#weed was made to be consumed my dudes

[the-untalented-photographer]

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐍𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

rick sanchez x reader

anon request: please i can request literally anything with rick sanchez acting jealous. Thanks and if you don't accept requests just ignore this tags: sexually suggestive, possessive & obsessive rick, daddy kink notes: minors dni wc: 2.2k

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He is Rick Sanchez. The smartest man, scratch that, creature alive. He isn’t a mere human, he is a God. Whatever Rick wants, he gets. He invented interdimensional travel. He fucked a planet.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He knows that everything and everyone is replaceable. If someone dies he can just switch universes. Does he lose something? Same thing. Nothing is unique. There are millions of versions of everything. 

Rick doesn’t get attached.

That’s why when you confessed your feelings in a drunken haze Rick yelled at you. Rick thought you were at least smarter than Morty. You should have known that Rick doesn’t do feelings. That you’re nothing special. That you’re just a quick fuck when his cock gets hard and needs some easy pussy wrapped around it.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

He didn’t understand why he felt pressure in his heart when you started crying, endless tears streaming down your cheeks as you apologized after he rejected your feelings. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt the need to reach his arms out and pull you into a tight embrace. Instead he insulted you as a whiny dumb bitch before disappearing through a green portal.

Rick doesn’t get attached.

So why was he fuming with rage as he saw you cuddled up on the couch with some other man weeks after he told you to fuck off?

A relentless fire, burning away any semblance of rational thought consumed Rick. His eyes smoldered with suspicion at the slightest hint of the man's attention toward you. Rick’s gestures became tense and guarded, his clenched fists betraying the turmoil within. Every smile directed at you from that dude sent a surge of insecurity coursing through Rick’s veins, twisting his features into a mask of possessiveness. Each innocent interaction fueled his rage until it consumed him entirely.

“Wh–Who the fuck is that–that lame fratboy on my couch?!”, Rick didn’t even bother to step closer, his voice dripping with anger. Your eyes shot wide open as you saw the tall scientists near the door. After your confession you avoided him as best as you could – after all you did live with the Smith family ever since your parents (their old neighbors) abandoned you. You never joined an adventure again. You never went into his garage to simply chat with him. You didn’t even ask if you could smoke space-weed. Nothing. That pissed Rick off even more because he caught himself missing you one time too many.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’m Michael”, Michael was a polite, handsome young man, who attended the same college you did. Smiling, he reached his hand out towards Rick to shake his hand, “Are you y/n’s grandfather?”

If looks could kill every version of Michael would be dead by now. “You’re fuck–fucking stupid.” Rick would’ve loved to just kill that boy or at least cut off Michael’s hand, which was dangerously close to your thigh. You two were way too close for Rick in general. “y/n, who is that? Your new–new lover, huh? You little– Spreading your legs a–already?”

Rick knew he was overstepping it. He should have never said that but he couldn’t help it. You didn’t talk to him for weeks after you said that you love him with all your heart and now you’re with some lame, boring dumbass? Is that what undying love looks like? 

“…You’re a fucking asshole, Rick”, Rick could hear you holding back your tears, the way your eyes started to water, your cheeks painted red. He hurt you – again. Meanwhile Michael had already stood up and made his way over to Rick.

„Listen to m–„ Michael didn‘t stand a chance, Rick immediately interrupted him. 

„Li–Listen to me, shitface. I know– You fratboys are all the fucking–fucking same. You wanna tell me y–you‘re serious about y/n?“, he stepped closer, „You– Could you give her your phone and promise–promise she wouldn‘t find nudes or chats from other pussies?“

Absolute silence. This was all it took for Rick to confirm his suspicions. „Now you‘re si–silent? Jesus. How predictable. Jesus fucking christ. You think just because you’re d–defending her right now she’ll let you have– get a piece of her? You– Do you really think y/n would do that?” More silence though now Michael’s expression almost matched Rick’s. Both were fuming with rage. Rick simply shook his head, pulled out his portal gun and ended up in his garage again. If he would have stayed any longer he would have ended up beating that fratboy to a pulp.

In the dimly lit confines of his garage, the air thick with the pungent scent of portal fluid and vodka, Rick's rage simmered beneath a haze of alcohol fumes. His knuckles whitened around his flask as he gulped down the fiery liquid, each swig fueling the inferno of jealousy and resentment burning within him. The echoes of a heated argument still reverberated in his mind, igniting a storm of emotions that threatened to consume him whole. His bloodshot eyes fixated on nothingness, yet his thoughts were consumed by visions of betrayal and deceit, twisting his features into a contorted mask of fury.

Rick's movements grew increasingly erratic, his drunken stupor amplifying the intensity of his emotions. Each swill from the bottle became a desperate attempt to drown out the insecurities gnawing at his soul. Yet, with every passing moment, the flames of anger raged higher, feeding off his intoxication like a relentless blaze devouring dry timber. Alone in the darkness, he surrendered to the tumultuous tempest raging within, consumed by a toxic cocktail of alcohol, jealousy, and resentment. Resentment towards Michael, you and most importantly – himself.

“Fuck it.”

His plan was to be teleported in the middle of your room, right in front of your bed. Instead he landed right on top of you on your bed. Maybe he really did have too much to drink. But fuck, did he miss this. Your silky hair, your soft skin, your body pressed against his, your eyes staring into his. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the window accentuated the contours of Rick’s silhouette, casting a seductive allure over the scene. His gaze, intense and unwavering, bore into yours, a silent invitation laden with unspoken desires.

As you laid on the bed, a mixture of melancholia and yearning coursed through your veins, your heart quickening in response to his proximity. The air crackled with tension, charged with the palpable electricity of unspoken words and unfulfilled longing. Despite the intimacy of their proximity, there lingered a delicate balance between attraction and apprehension, a dance of emotions teetering on the edge of possibility. In that fleeting moment, suspended in the hazy embrace of moonlight, you found yourselves ensnared in a silent exchange of desire, your hearts entwined in the delicate threads of possibility.

“What…what are you doing, Rick? Please leave”, your voice was shaking, filled with sadness. Just like a few weeks ago when Rick rejected you. Honestly as the days unfolded, the weight of his decision settled upon him like a heavy shroud, suffocating him with the burden of regret. What once seemed like a reasoned choice now gnawed at his conscience incessantly, tormenting him with the realization of what he had forsaken. In the quiet moments of reflection, your presence lingered in the recesses of Rick’s mind, a constant reminder of the warmth and companionship he had callously turned away. He yearned for a chance to rewind time, to recant his words and embrace the opportunity he had foolishly cast aside. But as the echoes of his rejection reverberated through his thoughts, he grappled with the harsh truth that some wounds inflicted by one's own hand can never fully heal, leaving behind scars of remorse that serve as a painful testament to lost love.

In a moment of raw vulnerability, Rick found himself enveloped by a surge of longing and regret as he reached out to embrace you. His arms wrapped around your trembling form, pulling you close with a tenderness born from the depths of his remorse. With each beat of his heart, Rick felt the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken apologies pressing down upon him, a heavy burden he could no longer bear. As your bodies pressed together, he savored the warmth of your presence, a fleeting glimpse of the connection he had foolishly forsaken. In that embrace, Rick sought solace in the familiarity of your touch, yearning to erase the distance he had allowed to grow between you. But even as he held you close, Rick knew that some wounds run too deep to mend with a simple embrace, and the ache of regret would linger long after your arms had untangled and they parted ways once more. So, he didn’t let go.

“Why– Why did you b-bring that boy over?”, Rick whispered into your ear.

“…Why do you even care?”

With a heavy heart and a tangled web of emotions, Rick mustered the courage to lean back and face you, intent on conveying the depth of his regret for his earlier rejection. His words caught in his throat, a silent plea for forgiveness lingering on Rick’s lips. Yet, beneath the facade of contrition, a different truth simmered—a truth he dared not confess. Deep down, Rick knew that admitting his regret would unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart, exposing the vulnerability he had long sought to conceal. So, with practiced deceit, Rick masked his true intentions behind a facade of remorse, weaving a tangled web of half-truths and feigned contrition in a desperate attempt to suppress the stirring of emotions he dared not acknowledge. In the shadow of his deception, the echoes of his regret remained unspoken, a silent testament to the complexities of love and the fear of baring one's soul to the object of Rick’s desire.

“Did you– Did you fuck him?”

“Why do you care?”

“y/n, st–stop with this shit. Are you dating him?”

“Why do you care?”

As you persisted, your insistence slicing through the fragile veneer of Rick’s composure, a simmering rage ignited within him, fueling the flames of his resentment. With each passing moment, your few simple words bore deeper into Rick’s wounded pride, stoking the embers of his anger into a blazing inferno. The weight of your expectations pressed down upon him like a suffocating weight, a constant reminder of the vulnerability he sought to shield from your penetrating gaze. Fueled by a toxic cocktail of jealousy and insecurity, his temper flared, unleashing a torrent of pent-up frustration and bitterness.

“What the fuck– What d–do you want to hear, huh?!”, Rick leaned on his hands, which were lying next to your head.

“Rick, listen, you rejected me. You didn’t want me, remember? I can fuck and date however I fucking want! ”

“No! You fucking can’t!”, he screamed into your face, “You said– You said loved me! Talking about– about undying love and now?! Now you get with s–some young bastard from co–college who only wanted to– to fuck you anyway!”

“That’s exactly what you wanted, too! You only wanted to fuck me!”

“That’s not fucking true! I– The last fucking weeks were pure torture. I fucking m–miss you! I can’t fuck–fucking stop thinking about you, y/n. I miss your fucking smell, your h–hair, your voice. Fucking e–everything! I miss your face, the–the way you nag me to drink more water. Jesus fucking christ! I miss you. Why– Why the fuck are crying even more now?!”

With tears of joy streaming down your cheeks, you listened intently as Rick finally mustered the courage to confess the truth hidden behind his guarded facade. As his words washed over you, each syllable laden with the weight of unspoken longing and regret, a floodgate of emotions burst forth within you. Your heart soared with a bittersweet symphony of relief and elation, the echoes of Rick’s confession resonating deep within your soul. The tears that spilled from your eyes were not born of sorrow, but of an overwhelming sense of gratitude and validation, as you realized that the love you had held in your heart had not been in vain.

In a tender moment suffused with the weight of unspoken truths and undeniable desire, Rick leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours in the hazy embrace of the moonlit room. With a gentle touch, Rick cradled your face in his hands, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin. As your lips met in a fervent kiss, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away to leave only the two of you entwined in the delicate dance of passion and longing. With each caress, the walls he had built around his heart crumbled, leaving him vulnerable and exposed in the embrace of her warmth. In that moment of intimacy, you surrendered to the magnetic pull of your shared desire, bodies entangled in a silent symphony of love and redemption.

“You know– You know I’m not good with…emotions and shit. But– But you’re important to me and–and I’m not letting another man touch what’s mine.”

“You were jealous?”

“I wasn’t– Fuck it. Yes, yes, I was. Wanted to k–kill that motherfucker. The way he–he had his arm around–”, in the middle of his rant you wrapped your legs around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. His crotch pressing against yours.

“Just so you know, I have been very, very lonely the last few weeks.”

“Oh? S–So you’ve been a good–good girl for daddy, huh?”, it didn’t take long for Rick to get hard, his bulge pressing against you, his hand now choking you slightly, “F–fuck, princess, daddy’s going to–to reward you for being so patient.”

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

[morningberriesao3]

Dirty Words

Steve Harrington X Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Word Count: 10.2K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warning: Explicit m/m sexual content including dirty talk, masturbation, hand jobs, spit and cum as lube, allusions to anal sex, scent kink, spit kink, multiple orgasms, and oral sex. Excessive swearing. Recreational drug use and drinking. This post includes explicit sexual content, foul language, and sensitive themes. It is intended for those 18 and older ONLY. I am not responsible for the media you consume.

Disclaimer: All characters in my fics engaging in sexual acts are—and always will be—18 or older, even if not explicitly stated.

DIRTY WORDS

Eddie is feeling all floaty and shit. The weed Argyle gave him really is better than the skunkweed he’s been peddling in alleyways since he was sixteen years old. Not that he’ll ever admit to it. Definitely a fact he’ll take to his grave.

But for now, Eddie has the weekend off from his new, lousy day job that Steve and (mostly) Robin managed to bag him at Family Video. To be honest, it had been a last resort. But turns out, business is shit after he fucking finally graduated high school. And now—cherry on top!—he’ll have to figure out how to file taxes and shit. Welcome to the corporate world.

With a sigh, Eddie takes another drag from the perfectly rolled joint that he made himself. Argyle can’t top him on that, at least.

Eddie giggles to himself. Top him. Shit, Argyle could top him if he really wanted to, considering how fucking pent up—

The phone rings, making Eddie jump a good six inches from the sunken couch cushion he’s lounging on. He scrambles to a sitting position, and then lifts himself onto his legs that only slightly wobble like a newborn giraffe underneath him. He runs to the yellowing, plastic phone that’s hung up on his uncle’s trailer’s wall, hoping that maybe it’s the guy Eddie’s been fooling around with on the other end of the line. Maybe he could try the whole phone sex thing. Again. And not fuck it up this time.

“Hello?”

“Eddie?” Steve asks, voice all staticky through the speakers. “Why does it sound like you just ran a marathon, dude?”

Eddie realises he’s panting. He’s not sure if it’s from the short dash to the telephone, or if it’s because his blood was rushing to his cock for a minute there instead of his lungs.

Either way, he should probably consider going for a jog once in a while or something. It’s kind of sad that he’s winded.

“Shut up, man,” he says. “Maybe I was running a marathon. You’d never know.”

“I do know. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when you decide to exercise willingly. The sun will be rising in the West. The sky will be green and the grass will be blue when Eddie Munson runs a marathon.”

“You forgot when pigs fly.” Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He nearly drops the phone that’s wedged between his ear and his shoulder. “Did you call to talk about my general lack of fitness, or is there another reason you called, Harrington?”

“I’m bored,” Steve whines. The phone line crackles. Eddie can only assume Steve is, like, laying in bed or something.

Laying in bed, in those navy blue sheets. Shirtless. Maybe fresh out of the shower. A little wet still, his hair sticking up around his head—

No. Nope.

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will away the next image (a towel slipping away from Steve’s hips), because three months ago he made a rule for himself. No more fantasising about Steve goddamn Harrington.

It had been becoming nearly impossible to look the other man in the eye after some of the things Eddie imagined doing with him.

Steve continues on, completely unaware of Eddie’s wandering mind. “Robin is working tonight and tomorrow so she can’t hang.”

“Glad to know I’m your second choice,” Eddie teases.

“No! No, I would have called you either way.”

“Sure you would have.”

Eddie smiles to himself. He’s not actually miffed. He and Steve have become way closer than he would have ever imagined possible. It started when Robin would ask him to hang out, and then she’d invite him along with her and Steve, and then somehow he and Steve just started hanging out alone. And it wasn’t even all that awkward.

Turns out Eddie is cooler than Steve thought, and Steve is more of a loser than Eddie thought.

“Eddie,” Steve groans. And Eddie tries not to be perverted about how good it sounds. “Come on, dude. Let’s hang out.”

“Can’t, man,” Eddie says. “I’m busy.”

“What? No you’re not. It’s nine at night and you’re at home. I also know Wayne works a double, so he won’t be back until tomorrow night.”

“It’s weird that you know my uncle’s schedule.”

“No it’s not; he works the same shifts every week. Point is, I know you’re alone. Unless you have other friends that I don’t know about?”

“I do have other friends!” (Not really. Just a guy Eddie’s made out with a couple times in the city, and the members of Corroded Coffin who’re away for the summer.)

“Oh.” Steve goes quiet for a moment, and Eddie feels like he won. But then, “Well, are they over right now?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re not busy! I can bring movies. I have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Wildcats—”

“What makes you think I want to watch a sports movie?”

“And Labyrinth.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. Shit, he loves David Bowie, and he hasn’t been able to get his hands on a copy yet. But he also knows Steve won’t just return the movie before Eddie has the chance to see it, because Steve isn’t mean like that. Not like Eddie is.

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Getting high and being alone!” And jerking off for the next hour and a half to see how many times he can make himself come before it becomes unbearable.

Eddie doesn’t add that last point, for obvious reasons.

“I like getting high. Please, Eddie? I’m so bored. And my house is empty and quiet, and you know how I get nightmares when—”

“Okay! Okay, oh my god, fine. You’re so whiny.” Eddie had no idea Steve was such a beggar. He kind of likes it. “But you have to bring beer as payment. Afterhours fee.”

“Yes,” Steve says, sounding like he’s doing something dorky like punching the air. “Beer it is. See you soon.”

“Hey, Harrington, can you give me, like—” half an hour, Eddie wants to say. But the line goes dead.

He wonders if he can manage to pump one out before Steve gets to the trailer. And the thing is, his dick is harder than he’d like to admit after hearing Steve’s voice. So he’s going to try.

Eddie runs to his room, pulls down his flannel pants so the elastic sits taut under his balls. He doesn’t bother laying in his bed; he just sits on the edge of it, facing his mirror, watching as he fists his own cock and gives it a few tugs. It’s not a narcissism thing, Eddie just likes the visual. Likes to imagine it’s someone else’s hand, or someone else’s cock. Likes to see the tip of it, shiny and red, as his foreskin pulls down his shaft to expose it.

He wonders if Steve is cut or not.

Fuck—no. No, no, no.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking about Steve, he should be thinking about the guy from the bar. About how hard his dick had been, pressing into Eddie’s hip as they made out against the wall in the alleyway.

Yeah. Yeah, okay, that’s doing something…

Eddie watches as his hand pumps over his cock, watches as it starts to strain, the veins popping from the skin as he builds himself up. He squeezes hard around the crown. It only gives a little under the pressure, considering how hard he is, but it makes his dick offer up a pearl of precum that he gathers and spreads around the slit. When he lifts his thumb away, a sticky string connects his hand between his legs.

He likes the way that looks. He likes when things start to get messy. He wonders if he’ll ever get to see the guy from the bar’s cock like this, if he also likes to play with cum and spit.

If Steve ever plays with cum and spit when he’s on his own, like Eddie does. He wonders how Steve touches himself, what he likes, what he doesn’t like, what sounds he makes, what face he makes…

Oh fuck, oh fuck. Yeah, that’s fucking good.

Okay. Okay it’s fine, Eddie will just think about Steve one more time, and then he’ll for sure stop doing it. Just this one more time…

A jolt travels from Eddie’s cock into the tight muscles of his stomach as he imagines Steve’s face all twisted up in pleasure. Those strong thighs bracketing Eddie’s head as he sucks back little dribbles of salty white that leak out of Steve. His nose brushing against a mound of dark hair that Eddie just knows would grow thick around the base of Steve’s cock; little curls that smell like honey and almond soap, because Steve uses the expensive shit.

Jesus Christ. What he wouldn’t give to go down on Steve, just once. Just one time.

Eddie’s mouth waters as his hand flies harder, faster. He’s so fucking close. Just a quick, dirty orgasm before Steve comes over. Steve. Fuck, yes, Steve—

There’s a loud knock on Eddie’s front door.

No! Shitshitshit. He just needs two more minutes. Maybe not even that, just one—

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is muffled beyond the walls of the trailer. Eddie almost considers letting him wait outside while he finishes up, but he can hear Steve’s footsteps getting closer to his bedroom window.

A rock hits the glass and shocks Eddie enough that it sets him back. Now it would definitely take the full two minutes.

“Shit! Goddamn fucking Harrington—” Eddie stands from the mattress and releases his cock from the death grip he had on it. It bobs between his legs, so fucking stiff that there’s no way it’s going away on its own anytime soon. “One sec!”

Eddie has no choice but to tuck his cock into the waistband of his pants. The tip pokes up under his navel, like it’s staring angrily at him for not finishing the job he started. It’s throbbing, and leaking, and getting the fabric it’s tucked into all damp.

“Same,” he mumbles to his dick as he grabs a longer t-shirt and pulls it over his head.

Another rock smacks against his window.

“Coming!” Well, he was about to anyway.

He doesn’t jog to greet Steve, because he doesn’t want to risk his dick slipping from its hiding spot. That is a conversation Eddie wants to avoid.

When he opens the front door, Steve has another rock in his hand, aimed towards Eddie’s window.

“You better not throw that, Harrington.”

Steve’s head whips around. His eyes are full of mischief, a small smile on his lips. His hair is freshly washed and styled, just like Eddie suspected. And his outfit is positively sinful (if you’re horny like Eddie is). Grey sweatpants and a plain white tee, which Eddie thinks is the guy version of lingerie.

Totally unfair, especially when Eddie would just like if his dick would go soft again.

“Why did you take so long, dude? Your trailer park is scary in the dark.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “You’ve literally fought monsters and a dark wizard in an alternate dimension, and you think my trailer park is scary?”

“Yeah.” Steve points over his shoulder to a mobile home down the lane. “There was an old dude watching me from his window.”

“Mr. Jackson?” Eddie tilts his head, sees the curtains ruffling as his neighbour draws them back. “He’s… mostly harmless. I think.”

“You think?” Steve flings up Eddie’s steps and quickly locks the door behind him.

“Totally. I mean, besides the shotgun he keeps next to his couch. But that’s reserved exclusively for handsome young men that come around the trailer park after nine PM.” Eddie checks his watch, gasps in mock fear, widens his eyes, and peers out of the window behind Steve’s head.  “That means you’re not safe! I think—I think I hear him loading the gun!”

Steve grabs Eddie’s arm, just for a second, as he cranes his head to look out the window. When Eddie’s sarcasm finally sinks in, he lets go and punches him (a little too hard) where his hand had been. “You’re such a dick.”

“I think that was kind of a compliment,” Eddie says, rubbing at the place where he would surely bruise. “I did say you were handsome.”

Steve flops down on Eddie’s couch and tosses a bag full of VHS tapes and a six pack onto the ground by his feet. He leans back, like he’s making a point, flourishing his hand over the length of his body with the most disgustingly sexy lazy smile on his face. “Yeah, well, that’s common knowledge.”

Jesus.

Eddie looks down to make sure his cock is still out of sight. He can feel it pulse between his legs as he hears Steve’s voice, sees how he stretches on the sofa. But thank God, he’s still tucked away and Steve should be none the wiser.

He takes his place next to Steve—makes sure his shirt drapes loose enough around him that it hides how hard he is.

He wonders if blue balls are a real thing. Will Eddie have severe health defects if he doesn’t come? Will his boner go away on its own?

Questions that he’ll find out sooner or later, he supposes.

“Little full of yourself, are you, Harrington?”

Steve sighs. “Not at all. It’s actually hard work being this gorgeous. You would know.”

Eddie feels his cocky expression fall from his face.

Did Steve just call him gorgeous? Or did Eddie totally misinterpret his words? He blushes and figures it’s better to be safe than be sorry. “Sure,” is all he replies with.

“So,” Steve says casually, “where’s this weed I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Eddie smiles, big and sweet, and points towards his bedroom where he left the joint to fizzle out in an ashtray before he molested himself. “Be a dear and go grab it from my nightstand?”

The truth is, Eddie’s pretty sure the tip of his dick slipped from under the elastic of his pants when he sat down. Miraculously, he thinks it’s starting to deflate by the teensiest fraction, but it would still basically slap Harrington in the face if he tried to stand.

Which—good thing or bad thing? Eddie isn’t sure. That would all have to do with Steve’s reaction. But he’s not willing to find out.

Steve rolls his eyes but gets up like a good little boy to fetch the ashtray. He brings it and the lighter to the coffee table where Eddie had been smoking before.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie is back in his floaty state with a beer between his legs instead of a hard on. Turns out, stiffies don’t actually last forever if you don’t let yourself come. It’s just very, very frustrating.

“You up for another beer?” Steve asks slowly, reaching into the bag to grab two bottles. His eyes are glazed and blown, and Eddie thinks he looks totally fucked up already. It’s hilarious.

“Yeah, I’m down.”

Steve hands Eddie a new PBR, and his eyes do this little flare thing that makes him look adorable. “Woah.”

“Woah what?” Eddie asks, popping the cap and replacing his empty bottle with the new one.

“Being up for something and being down for something mean the same thing, even though they’re the opposites. I just realised that.”

Eddie smiles against the lip of the bottle, feeling the glass clink against his teeth. “Shit, man, you’re so high.”

“Am not.” Steve honest to God giggles as he makes eye contact with Eddie. “Okay. Maybe a little.”              

“I’m glad you came over, Harrington,” says Eddie after a beat. “Better than another night alone.”

Steve opens his mouth, like he’s about to say something, but he’s cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing.

Both men turn their heads to stare at the wall phone, but Eddie doesn’t make a move to stand up to actually answer.

Because, for some reason, his mind is suddenly going a million miles a minute.

He knows it’s not his uncle calling in the middle of work, and he knows it’s obviously not Steve. The chances that it’s Robin are slim to none because her shift doesn’t end for another half hour. Gareth and Jeff are away with their respective families.

So the most logical answer to who’s calling after dark, would be the guy from the bar.

And the thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to raise questions. Isn’t sure if he’s capable of thinking of a good enough excuse as to who it was or why he’s calling. Yeah, he could probably have at least answered and told Bar-Guy to call back tomorrow, that he has company, but his brain isn’t thinking fast enough. So he just kind of… stares at the phone as it rings.

“I’ll get it,” Steve says after a few seconds, and suddenly he’s standing from the couch and reaching for the telephone—

“No!” Eddie pounces, because that’s even worse than if Eddie just answers the damn phone himself. He flounders towards Steve, grabbing the outstretched hand, stopping it from curling around the phone. “Stop! Stop—just let it ring!”

Steve gawks at him, but holds his hands in surrender in front of his chest.

The phone rings one more time, and then the kitchenette goes quiet.

Eddie heaves a sigh of relief, even though he probably just made more questions arise than he avoided by not picking up.

“What—what was that about?”

“Nothing,” Eddie huffs, dragging his feet back to the couch.

Steve follows closely behind. Just as Eddie flops onto the cushions, Steve is on top of him, tickling the shit out of Eddie’s arms, his sides, his stomach.

Eddie was not expecting anything like this—Steve’s hands all over him, his leg slung over Eddie’s to hold him down, the smell of Steve’s breath hitting his face. It’s not a bad smell, like freshly brushed teeth and beer and weed, and it’s warm, because their faces are so close together.

All Eddie can to is half-shriek-half-laugh, even as his mind muddles with confusion (and lust. Obviously).

“Tell me!” Steve commands, digging his fingers into Eddie’s neck, down his back, dangerously close to his thighs…

The boner that he just got rid of starts to fill out once more.

“Stop, dude!” Any sense of authority is lost under Eddie’s laughter that he can’t control. “No! Stop!”

“Come on, Munson. Spill the beans.”

Eddie tries flipping onto his stomach, but Steve follows him, blanketing over his back. The panes of his chest press behind Eddie, hard and warm, crowding him against the pillows. And there’s also friction.

Friction that could easily become a problem if Steve keeps goddamn moving against Eddie, making his hips rub against the couch—

“Okay! Uncle. Uncle!”

Eddie keeps panting face-down as Steve lifts himself away from his back.

“So?” Steve asks with a smile in his voice, triumphant from his win. An unhonourable win, as far as Eddie is concerned. Tickle torture is a serious offense. “What’s up your ass?”

Eddie snorts as he sits up, casually grabbing one of the throw cushions to hold against his lap.

Nothing, he wants to say. That’s the problem.

Instead, he just kind of adverts his gaze and goes for the truth.

“I’ve—kind of—been talking to…” this guy.

It’s not like Eddie has been hiding his sexuality from Steve, per se, but other dudes are way less accepting than girls about it. His first official ‘coming out’ had been to Robin (an obvious choice after she told him she’s a lesbian), and then to Nancy.

Apparently, Steve had been really cool when Robin told him she likes girls. But this is a different situation. Steve might be afraid that Eddie will, like, come on to him or something. Which… fair enough. Eddie probably would.

So, instead of finishing with the whole truth, he dampens it down a bit, and says, “Someone.”

“Oh. Shit.” Steve’s eyes do this thing where they drop to the floor, and then shoot sideways to Eddie, his eyebrows crumpled like a cartoon above his nose. He grabs the blunt, takes a deep drag. “That’s good though, right?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sure.”

“Sweet. So what’s the issue?”

All of it. Everything.

Because said guy lives all the way in Indianapolis—two hours away—and the only chance they have to communicate is through phone. Which, by proxy, means that the only times they can actually meet up is after a phone conversation.

Not to mention the fact that they aren’t, like, official—that they just made out a few times. Once outside of the bar, and a couple times in the back of Eddie’s van, which left him achingly hard when they parted ways.

This circles back to point number one about the phone conversations. They’re awkward. They don’t know each other well, don’t know what to talk about. Things don’t just flow naturally. Not like they do with—oh, say—Steve.

Maybe the worst part is that Eddie is a twenty-one-year-old man with raging hormones that—as much as he wishes otherwise—he cannot control. His self-discipline is basically nil. Nada. Zero. He’s fucking horny all the time.

So how is he supposed to deal with long-distance plus rare phone calls?!

Bingo. Yep. Phone sex. It’s the obvious answer, is it not?

So Eddie, like, tried.

And he thought it started well!

What are you wearing? Is that not fucking obvious where Eddie was headed? Is that not the exact line that they use in movies and shit? That’s what he said—What are you wearing?—and then he shoved his hand down his pants and waited for Bar-Guy to get into it, start saying something filthy into the speaker that would get Eddie going.

Maybe like… ‘Nothing at all,’ or, ‘tight boxers that show off my cock,’ or—fuck—'a towel slung low on my hips’. Something like that!

But all Eddie got was, “Uh—sweatshirt. Jeans. Why are you breathing hard?”

And then Eddie had said, “Just thinking about you,” with his low and gravelly voice, to help keep the conversation moving (again, he thinks this is pretty obvious and, like, at least a bit sexy).

Here’s the real kicker. The dude then said, “Are you… touching yourself?”

And it was not a sexy question. He sounded completely weirded out! Horrified! Disgusted!

So Eddie pulled his hand out of his pants and basically yelled, “No!”

Deny deny deny. Eddie is good at that shit.

The conversation had gone on to other things. Dinner plans, or something. Eddie didn’t really care. All he could think about was that this guy probably didn’t want to fuck him. They’d had the opportunity before, and it never progressed. And the thought of Eddie even fisting his own cock all but repulsed him.

Such a damn shame. Because Eddie is so desperate, so pent up, so sick of fucking his own hand, that he’s literally about to drill a hole in one of Uncle Wayne’s oranges and go to town until there’s nothing left but pulp.

Eddie doesn’t tell Steve any of this. He just groans really loud and buries his face in his hands, and says, “I don’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Something’s up. Out with it.” Steve waves his hand in encouragement, vaguely gesturing to the empty trailer and himself. “Safe space.”

Eddie peeks through his fingers at Steve, and he just looks so… genuinely curious. Like he actually wants to help, or at least hear, Eddie’s problems.

“Okay, fine.” Eddie snatches the joint from between Steve’s fingers and sucks it back like it’s water, keeping his gaze from Steve’s (beautiful) hazel eyes. “It’s just that I… I kind of made it awkward. Last time we talked on the phone. I tried to initiate… uh”—he clears his throat—“phone sex.”

Steve’s eyes go wide, his forehead crinkling with surprise. His lips are shiny and pink. But that second part doesn’t have anything to do with Steve’s expression—Eddie just happened to notice them.

“Fuck,” Steve says, leaning forward to set his bottle on the table in front of them. “Yeah. I’ve been there before, man. What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“I don’t know. What did you say? I assume it didn’t go well considering how you’re all… tense and shit.”

“Tense and shit.” Eddie laughs once, then mumbles, “You have no idea.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Steve encourages.

“It’s not! I started with the classic, what are you wearing?” Eddie drops an octave, making fun of his attempt to sound hot. “And then I got an actual play by play of what they were wearing.”

Steve sits back and thinks about it for a minute—his legs splayed, and his arms crossed over his chest. “I think the issue with that is… it’s obvious, but it’s not sexy.”

“How is it not sexy, dude?” Eddie asks, exasperated. “It’s literally a steppingstone into, like, a form of sex!”

“Yeah, sure, but it doesn’t get you hot. You know?”

“No, Steve, I don’t know. Because I’m always hot. Someone could bend to tie their shoes and I’d fucking cream my pants.”

Steve hiccups a startled laugh. “Fuck. Me too. It’s been forever.”

“I don’t think it’s natural for a guy to go this long, man.” Eddie swigs back the rest of his beer and cracks a third. Lights up a new joint, too. And honestly, regardless of his tolerance, he’s pretty fucked up.

“Do you know how many chicks I’ve gone out with? None of my dates have even led to hands stuff. It at least sounds like you’re close to sealing he deal.” Steve lolls his head towards Eddie with a cheeky little smile on his lips. “I mean, if you didn’t suck at talking dirty.”

“I do not suck!” Eddie cries, grabbing the throw cushion from his lap to smack it against Steve’s smug face.

Steve catches the pillow and rips it playfully away from Eddie’s grip. “Then show me.”

Eddie stares at Steve for way too long. He narrows his eyes after a few seconds. “You’re kidding me.”

“Not kidding. I can’t help you if I don’t know what you’re doing wrong.” Steve leans forward, plucks the joint right out of Eddie’s slack lips. “Just pretend I’m on the other end of the line.”

“No way, dude.”

Steve curls his hand up to look like a telephone, pretends to dial in a number. Brings it up to his ear. “Riiiinngg. Riiiinngg. C’mon, Eds, you’re getting a sexy phone call. Pick up. Riiinngg.”

Eddie feels his face flush red. He’s not sure if it’s from where this conversation is headed, or out of sheer embarrassment for Steve’s sake. “Holy fuck. You’re such a loser, Harrington.”

“I’ll just pretend you already answered and said hello. Hey, Eds. It’s… wait, what’s this guy’s name?”

Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it again, because Steve just said guy. Not girl. Guy. Is this a slip of the tongue? Or did Buckley out Eddie to Steve? Or Nancy?

No, neither of them would do that. Maybe Steve just figured it out from context clues.

But still, to be sure, Eddie just says, “What?”

“What’s his name?” Steve askes again.

So—shit—it definitely wasn’t a slip of the tongue. But Steve isn’t freaking out. Hasn’t freaked out in the past. And he’s looking at Eddie expectantly, but not judgy or anything.

Eddie clears his throat. “Nick.”

“Nick! Strong name. Not as strong as Steve, but not everyone can be a Steve—”

“Come on, man!” Eddie groans. Again. Hides his face. Again.

“Okay, Okay!” Steve clears his throat. “Hey, Eds, it’s Nick. What’re you up to?”

Eddie sucks in a breath and lets it forcefully out of pursed lips. “Uhh—hey, Nick… I’m…”—his eyes flick sideways to catch Steve staring at him with a half-smile on his face—“no. Nope! I can’t do this.”

Eddie goes to stand from his perch on the couch, but Steve’s arm shoots out to grab him. “Alright. Let’s just do it, you and me. No phone roleplaying required. Just start with saying a compliment you’d tell Nick or something.”

“Alright… Okay… Uh, you’re—I mean Nick—is really funny?” Eddie says. Nick isn’t all that funny but, fuck, it’s all Eddie can think of. Steve is funny, though, so it’s easy enough to say.

“Yeah, good. That’s good. What else?”

“And you’re really hot. Really fucking hot.”

“Good.” Steve shifts around on the couch, maybe trying to get more comfortable. “And then Nick would say something like, You’re really hot, too.”

Eddie stifles a giggle. “I really don’t think he would.”

“Well, just pretend he does. And then it’s your turn to keep the conversation heading in the direction you want it to.”

“By saying what, Harrington?”

“Try saying how I—Nick—makes you feel.”

“Okay. You make me feel… like I’m vibrating. Like I’m pressurized, or something.”

“Yeah?” Steve breathes, his voice dropping an octave. Probably just getting more into character. “What does that make you do, when you feel like that?”

“It makes me… makes me hard.” Eddie feels his hips pitching forward. His cock twitches under his flannel pants.

A dangerous game they’re playing. Maybe Steve doesn’t know just how serious Eddie was when he said he’s pent up.

“Fuck,” Steve says lowly.

“Too much?”

“No! Nah, it’s good. It’s hot. I mean, sometimes it’ll take longer to build into that kind of stuff, but keep going.”

Eddie nods nervously. “Okay. Uh, what do I say now?”

Steve sits up a bit to adjust the band of his sweats. “Sorry. So, you said it makes you hard. And then I’d say… me too. That it makes me hard just talking about it. Just thinking about it.”

Eddie’s dick is starting to properly fill out again. It makes sense since he never got to come after taking himself right to the edge before Steve came over.

He takes a steadying breath to try to will it away. “Shit. Okay.”

“Do you like that?” Steve asks. “Do you like thinking about how hard my cock gets when I think about you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie pulls at the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to stretch it beyond his crotch where he is most definitely about to tent his pants. Maybe if he wore boxers it would have been easier to conceal. “I don’t think we should do this.”

“It’s okay. It just means we’re doing good, right?” Steve slides his hips forward, making his sweats tighten against the bulge between his own legs.

Eddie lets his eyes linger there for longer than he should. There’s no way that Steve is getting turned on by all of this, but shit, he is. The proof is in the pudding—if the pudding is his dick that is suspiciously growing under the heather grey fabric.

He can’t help but blurt out, “I want to suck your cock.”

Because it’s true. Eddie’s mouth is watering just from the thought of it. But as soon as the words push past his lips, he realises that it’s not exactly fitting in the theme of phone sex. So he quickly adds, “If we were together right now. Instead of—uh—just on the phone.”

“Fuck, yeah. You’d suck my cock so good.” Steve licks his lips, and Eddie swears his eyes trail over his body, landing between his legs and then back up to his mouth. “I’d fuck your throat so deeply you’d gag and drool all over yourself.”

Eddie can’t help himself from groaning at that image. And as if his body is proving to Steve just how right he is, a trickle of saliva escapes the corner of his lips before he’s able to swallow it back.

He lifts his hand to wipe the back of it against his mouth. “Jesus, Steve.”

Steve shifts closer to Eddie. His voice is low and soft and seductive, and Eddie is having a very hard time remembering that this is a game as he says, “And then I’d ask if you’re touching yourself.”

The words echo those of Nick’s. But when Steve says them, he doesn’t sound horrified at the thought. He sounds like he wants Eddie to be fucking his hand while they talk. Like the thought turns him on almost as much as it does Eddie.

“I would be, by now,” Eddie confesses, wiping his sweaty palms against his knees. He desperately wants to trail them higher, wants to rub between his legs where he’s throbbing and hot. His pants feel like a sauna. They’re humid and sticky, and he knows it’s partly because he’s radiating heat, but also because his cock is already starting to dribble.

“I would be, too,” Steve says. “I mean, Nick would be, too. If I was Nick. And I’d—I’d ask how you were touching yourself. What it felt like.”

Eddie glances between Steve’s legs again. And—holy shit—Steve is hard. As hard as Eddie.

His cock is fucking massive, as far as Eddie can tell. Thick, and long, sitting sideways inside his pants against his hip. Eddie knows it would stand proud by Steve’s belly button if it wasn’t trapped.

And he’s also pretty sure Steve is circumcised by the obvious ridge he can see under the fabric.

Maybe it’s dumb, or false hope, or just how ridiculously horny he is (again), but Eddie is feeling encouraged. Because he’s not the only one who’s getting hot. He’s not the only one who’s participating, or the only one who’s bricked up.

So… why not get into it a bit more?

“I’d say that I have my hand wrapped around my cock. That it feels heavy in my hand. And wet. That I’m leaking all over myself.” Eddie’s hips pitch forward on their own accord, the sensitive tip of his dick deliciously grazing against the flannel of his pants. “And I’d tell you that it feels good. Really fucking good. But it would feel better if it was your hand instead.”

Steve is the first one to break.

Eddie can tell it’s an automatic reaction when he reaches for his cock and squeezes where it’s straining under his sweats. Awareness shimmers in Steve’s eyes, and he quickly pulls his hand away again. “Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Eddie says fast as a whip, repeating Steve’s words from earlier. “Just means we’re doing good, right?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s laugh is small and breathy. “Really good.”

Eddie swallows his nerves, decides to see if he can keep whatever this is going. “What would you say after that?”

It seems it’s Steve’s turn to be flustered. Eddie can see red creeping up his neck, like his chest is flushed. It reaches his cheeks and makes him look all bright and pink. “I’d tell you what I’d be doing.”

“Which would be?”

“I’d be reaching under my pants, and I’d circle my fingers around my dick. Gently at first, because—because I’m sensitive down there. And I want to make it last.” Eddie watches as Steve’s hands lift back to his lap. And then pinch the hem of his shirt. A strip of his sun-kissed stomach flashes as his fingers tease against the drawstring of his pants. “Like this.”

Steve’s hand disappears as it pushes down into his sweats. It moves along the length of his cock. He adjusts so it’s no longer sitting sideways; it’s now straight up, as big as Eddie assumed, dangerously close from peeking past the waistband.

Eddie would not be upset if it did.

The best part is when Steve’s hand starts moving under the fabric. Long, soft strokes that Eddie can tell are featherlight, mostly just fingertips teasing against his skin. Just enough to make Steve bite down on his lip and his breath hitch in his throat.

“Steve—fuck.” Eddie’s mouth goes dry as he watches Steve touch himself. And he has a few fleeting thoughts.

First is the classic, Am I dreaming? Because surely Steve Harrington is not jerking himself off in Eddie’s living room on a Friday night while they say filthy things to each other under the guise of another dude.

Impossible.

The second comes after Eddie subtly pinches himself and doesn’t wake up. Which is, Is this a joke? Because now that he knows he’s (probably) not asleep, there must be some other horrible explanation for what’s happening. He racks his brain, plays back the events that led him here.

Eddie doesn’t think he could misinterpret everything. But he’s probably done dumber things in his life.

Plausible.

And the third—which is the thought that’s taking up the majority of his consciousness—is, Am I allowed to touch myself, too?

He doesn’t let himself consider this one too long. Because there’s no way in Hell that Eddie would be able to stop himself. Not if a gun was pointed to his head.

So he shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes his cock way more aggressively than Steve.

It’s both not enough and instant satisfaction. Like when you start scratching an itch and it seems to get itchier as your nails dig into your skin, but at the same time it’s doing exactly what you need to soothe the discomfort.

Eddie’s lips part as he grabs his balls and gives them a taut squeeze. His dick basically weeps against his skin. So much precum is pushing from his slit that it’ll be a miracle if there’s any left when he actually comes. Fuck, he hopes this time he can actually come.

His heart is beating so goddamn fast in his chest that there’s a good chance if he stops for a second time this evening, it will give out. He really, really will die.

“Does it feel good?” Steve practically purrs the question.

Eddie nods fervently, but he’s not able to form words. He doesn’t know where to look; Steve’s blown eyes that seem more black than hazel, his hand that’s speeding up under his sweats, the damp patch that’s forming where his cock must be leaking nearly as much as Eddie’s if it has already soaked through the fabric, or the growing expanse of abs on show—flexing in tandem with Steve’s strokes—as his free hand continues to lift the hem of his shirt.

Fuck, Eddie wants to come. Right now. He wants to come right fucking now.

He squeezes the base of his cock, bordering on the verge of pain, to stop his orgasm in its tracks. “So good, Stevie.”

Steve’s head falls back against the couch cushion, his eyes flicking between Eddie’s legs, his mouth, back down again… back up. He’s pumping himself with more intent now, his wrist twisting with each upwards stroke. “I wish it was your lips on me. I just know how good they’d feel. You have perfect dick-sucking lips.”

Eddie attempts stroking his cock again. It zaps into the coil in the pit of his stomach, but if he goes slow he’s sure he can go at least thirty second before he’s on the edge again.

“You have no idea, Steve,” he says, his tongue wetting his lips like he just might fall to his knees and start sucking Steve off for real. “I’d keep them nice and soft like you said you like. The inside of my mouth would be so wet—fuck, I’m salivating just thinking about it. And then I’d seal them around your big cock and hallow my cheeks when you least expect it, and you’d fucking thrust into my throat in surprise—”

Eddie moans, dropping his grip on himself yet again. That time it was really close; he can feel his dick pulsing under his pants. If he were alone, he’d push them down and watch as his cock twitched against his abdomen, angry at the loss of his fingers at the last possible moment.

Across from him, Steve speeds up; his hand moving in quick, short bursts against his tip. He makes his own noise, his eyes rolling back into his skull and then closing altogether.

It takes everything inside Eddie not to grab himself and come inside his pants right then and there. Shit, Steve looks so fucking good. Eddie desperately wants to see more. The colour of Steve’s dick, the way it strains, if it’s curved or straight, if it’s shiny. He wants to see it leak, wants to see Steve’s fingers catch the pearls of precum that are soaking through his pants and rub them into his skin. Wants to see it web between his fingertips—sticky and white. Wants to suck it off of them.

Shit. Fuck. It’s a miracle Eddie isn’t coming untouched. He’s still right there, on the verge of his orgasm. One single, insignificant, breath of a touch would one hundred percent set him off.

Steve’s eyes open. He drops his own dick, wipes his palm against his t-shirt. And he scootches closer to Eddie.

Just the brush of Steve’s thigh against Eddie’s makes him tremble, makes Eddie feel like he’s going to lose any semblance of control that remains.

They’re pressed right against each other. The length of Steve’s leg is warm and strong against Eddie’s, bigger than his. Thicker. Just like the rest of him.

Steve spits in his hand. Eddie watches as it pools in his cupped palm, watches as Steve brings that hand back down to the front of his pants. He stretches the waistband away from his body, and for a split second, Eddie catches a glimpse of his cock. Just the crown, broad and pink like Steve’s lips, right before the elastic snaps back and covers him again.

Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t you dare fucking come, Eddie Munson.

“And then,” Steve says, adding fuel to the fire, “I’m gonna bend you over the arm of this couch. You’ll look so hot, with your back arched and your ass on full display.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Fuck it. Eddie sticks his hand back down his pants, but barely touches himself. Just draws a line up the fat vein on the underside of his cock. He can feel his heartbeat under the pad of his finger.

“I’ll push into you so slowly. You’ll feel so full with my dick in your tight little asshole. And you’ll make those sexy little noises the whole time.”

Eddie makes one of them right as Steve says that—a low, quiet rumble from the back of his throat.

“Yeah, just like that. And then… then I’ll start fucking you. It’ll feel so good, Eddie.” Steve fucks his fist harder, his hips lifting from the couch like he’s chasing his own touch. His hand sounds wet on his cock, slapping and squelching each time it smacks against the base. “I’m gonna fuck you so good that you start crying. That you start screaming. Your scary neighbours will know how good I’m fucking you from the noises they hear coming out of your trailer.”

Eddie wonders if he lets himself come if it’ll be the end of whatever is happening. He knows for a stone-cold fact that he’ll be able to stay hard after the first time. But Steve doesn’t know that. Not yet. Maybe he should tell him.

But for now, Eddie tries to regain some control, some semblance of his quippy, cocky personality, just so he doesn’t come off entirely as a whimpering fool (if it’s not already too late). He tries to smirk. “Bold of you to assume I’m a bottom, Harrington.”

“A bottom?” Steve asks, and Eddie realises that maybe it’s a term that he’s never heard before. Because he’s straight… (question mark?). Again, Steve uses context clues. Smart guy. He presses impossibly closer into Eddie’s side, and asks, “Are you telling me you don’t want to feel my cock inside of you? Don’t want my cum dripping from your asshole for hours after we fuck?”

Eddie’s whole body vibrates. That’s it. The end. He fists his cock and pumps it hard, pulling his foreskin forward enough to cover the head, back to expose it, all underneath the checkered fabric of his pants. “I’m gonna come, Steve. I’m coming.”

His teeth bite painfully into his lower lip as he lets himself tumble from the ledge. Cum surges from his cock hard enough that he knows it would have painted his entire chest if it wasn’t contained inside of his pants. Each wave of his climax makes him whine aloud. It sounds crude, mixed with the slick slap of his hand against his skin.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, staring as Eddie’s working fist, eyes blown wide like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

And maybe it shouldn’t, but Eddie’s left hand reaches out with a mind of its own, gripping high on Steve’s thigh. Squeezing it hard enough to leave a bruise, while his right is covered with hot, slick cum.

“Don’t stop,” Eddie babbles, riding out his orgasm for everything it’s worth. “Keep going. Keep talking. Don’t stop. I’m not finished yet, I wanna come again. Please. Please.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie.” Steve brings his own hand down atop where Eddie’s is still sunk into the flesh of his upper leg. For a moment, he thinks Steve is going to pry his fingers away, but instead he laces them with his own.

It’s such a simple thing, holding hands, but it feels intimate. Intentional. Like this isn’t just some game.

Eddie shouldn’t be thinking that. But he is. He is. And it’s the moment he consciously knows he’ll be ruined for anyone else. End game for Eddie Munson. Steve held his hand while they jerked off. He’s in love.

Steve yanks him from his internal monologue. “You can come twice in a row?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, his hand still squeezing between his legs. Each stroke sends a bolt of lightening through his entire body, but his dick barely softens in his hand before it stiffens back up to steel once more. “Usually more than that. Four times if I want, but—but not as much cum comes out as the first.”

“Oh my God,” Steve breathes. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Can I… Can I see?”

His eyes flicker down to Eddie’s crotch.

“Sure.” Eddie pretends he’s confident as he tugs down his pants, lifting his hips enough to push the fabric under them.

His cock springs free from where it was trapped.

He doesn’t want to be self-conscious of his body, but he can’t help but wonder what Steve sees. If he’s at all disappointed that Eddie’s dick isn’t as big as his. It he thinks it’s weird that he’s uncut or that his dick curves upwards. If he let his pubes grow too long.

But Steve’s eyes go heavy with desire, taking in every inch of Eddie. The way his entire dick is shiny and sticky with his own cum, how it gets stuck in the hair that grows below it. His fingers squeeze around Eddie’s, involuntarily or in encouragement, he doesn’t know. But it makes him feel better.

Eddie is about to ask if Steve would show him more, too.

Steve beats him to it. “Do you want me to—?”

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah.”

Steve brings the hem of his shirt to his chin, catching it between his teeth. His whole chest is on display, his olive abs flexing as he pulls down the front of his sweats, tucking the elastic waist under his balls. His hand circles his cock, so thick his fingers barely meet.

And now they’re both just… bare. Basically naked as they jerk off next to each other, hands still intertwined like they’re some sort of couple. Things go quiet for a few moments as they just watch each other. How their hands work against themselves, speeding up, slowing, twitching.

Eddie’s cum gets sticky on his hand, against his cock. When he pulls his fingers away from his body it feels a bit like glue, tacking his hand up so much that it’s hard to slide it over his length.

“Spit on it,” Steve whispers, like he knows exactly what Eddie is thinking.

Eddie nods, bringing his hand up to his mouth—

“Wait.” Steve unlaces his fingers from Eddie’s, grabs his wrist. “Can I?”

“Shit.” Eddie huffs a breath through his nose. “Sure, Harrington.”

Steve lets a long string of saliva fall from his pretty, pink lips. It wets Eddie’s palm, mixing with the cum that covers it, making it slippery instead of sticky. Instead of letting go, though, Steve brings Eddie’s hand down to his own lap.

“Wanna switch?”

And—holy fucking fuck. Eddie trembles with ill-contained delight. He doesn’t even reply, just wraps his fingers around Steve’s cock before he can even think about what’s happening. What it means. That it’s changing the dynamic—they’re getting involved with each other instead of just themselves.

It doesn’t even matter. Not right now.

Steve’s head falls back against the cushions. “Oh God, that’s amazing.”

Eddie slides his fingers up Steve’s shaft—so heavy and hot in his hand—just as Steve described he liked. Soft and gentle. He twists his wrist in the same way Steve touched himself, watches as his lips part and his brows crinkle together, marvels at the vision of Steve’s cockhead surging from his grip, so flushed against the paleness of his hand and the silver of his rings.

He squeezes a bit harder and watches Steve’s hips rut towards him.

“You look so good,” he tells Steve, voice getting lost behind the moans that Steve keeps loosing from his lungs.

“Eddie?” Steve pants, thighs twitching as Eddie dares to circle his thumb around Steve’s slit, gathering more wetness to join the rest.

“Hmm?”

“Were you serious earlier?” Steve asks, barely a whisper. “About wanting to suck me off?”

Eddie’s hand stills on Steve, his eyes shining wide with shock and want. “Yeah? I mean—yeah. Very serious.”

“…Would you?”

Steve doesn’t have to say anything else. Eddie is already sliding onto the floor, already grabbing Steve’s knees and spreading them apart so he can slot himself between them. As soon as he’s bracketed by those strong thighs, they clamp down against his waist. A powerhouse of muscle, locking him to where he kneels.

Eddie is slightly intimidated by Steve’s cock. Will he have to unhinge his jaw like some sort of python to fit it in his mouth?

He leans down and kitten licks the tip, testing how it might feel on his tongue. Steve’s body jolts from that alone, makes a little whimpering noise that makes Eddie’s dick dribble onto the carpet.

“That’s it,” Steve encourages as Eddie’s lips close around the crown of his cock. “That’s perfect. Fuck, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s all I think about.”

Eddie moans, opens his jaw wider, and then sinks forward. Steve’s cock glides against Eddie’s tongue. It tastes like hot, sweaty skin. And cum—whether it’s Eddie’s from his hand, or Steve’s pre, it’s salty and heady and makes Eddie’s mouth even more wet as he salivates.

“Fuuuuck.” Steve’s fingers bury themselves in Eddie’s curls, tugging him closer.

It’s different than his fantasies. Steve doesn’t smell like honey and almond soap, and Eddie’s nose most definitely cannot reach Steve’s pubes, even as the tip of his dick brushes against the back of his throat. But the dark curls at the base are exactly as Eddie pictured. Perfectly trimmed and up-kept, as nicely as the hair on Steve’s head.

Eddie can’t help but pull off Steve to trail his tongue all the way down his shaft. He noses along Steve’s inner thigh, shamelessly burying his face in that thick thatch of chestnut hair. And then he deeply inhales the musky scent of Steve.

Steve groans, shallowly thrusting against Eddie’s cheek, the tip of his cock grazing Eddie’s ear, getting lost in his mane of hair.

A rope of drool connects Steve to Eddie, his tongue lolling from his mouth to rub against the side of Steve’s balls as he drinks in his smell. He dips his chin lower, until Steve’s dick is standing straight up, resting against his forehead.

The noise Steve makes is fucking��sinful—completely wanton—as Eddie shoves his nose into Steve’s balls and breathes him in, committing everything to memory. His scent, his taste, his sounds, his face—everything.

Eddie isn’t sure if this will happen ever again. Isn’t sure if it’ll even be acknowledged. So he’s going to enjoy every goddamn minute while he’s so up close and personal with Steve’s cock.

“Ah—Jesus Christ. You are a freak, Munson.” Normally, those words might hurt. But Steve says them with such lust that it can’t possible be construed as anything but a compliment. Eddie wraps his hand back around Steve’s cock and starts pumping him with purpose, sucking his balls into his mouth and rolling them around his tongue. The wet, slurping sounds are totally lewd in the quiet air of the trailer. “Shit. Ohhh—shit. I’m close. I’m about to come.”

Eddie hums in encouragement, keeps his lips sealed around Steve’s balls. His hand flies above his face until he can feel how tight Steve’s balls get, can feel his cock pulsing in his hand.

He pops off, rests Steve’s cockhead onto his tongue, and jerks him off fast and dirty.

“Eddie—Eddie!” Steve’s thighs tense around Eddie’s middle. Cum surges from his slit into the back of Eddie’s throat in thick rivers, coating his tongue and teeth in sticky white release that he happily swallows down.

Fuck, Steve tastes good. Feels good. Sounds even better as he comes with Eddie’s name falling from his lips. Eddie closes his eyes and revels in the moment, lets himself savour the twitch of Steve’s dick as it empties into his mouth, the intrusion as he thrusts into Eddie’s throat, and the threat of himself gagging against it. He keeps swirling his tongue, even as Steve’s cum stops spurting. Even as his noises become high, and his body starts seizing with each flick against his sensitive tip.

Eddie desperately wants to make the moment last forever, doesn’t want to acknowledge that Steve is basically crying from overstimulation above him.

Finally, the fingers in Eddie’s hair tug him away. He whines at the sudden emptiness, wants to lean back in and feel Steve’s cock soften completely inside of his mouth.

Steve’s eyes are still blown and lustful, and strangely soft, as he says, “That was so fucking good.”

He smiles and gives Steve’s knees a squeeze as he leans back, his own shaking under his weight as he hauls himself back up onto the couch. He feels a little weird now that Steve came, because Eddie is still hard. Still wanting. But he also came once himself. Not from Steve’s hands but from his words, and it was enough. Maybe he should just tuck himself away and let this thing end naturally—

Before he can make a decision, Steve is reaching towards Eddie’s lap. “Is this okay?” he asks as he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie lets his gaze fall between his legs. His dick gets swallowed up by Steve’s big hands. He likes the way it looks so red as it peeks out from his fist.

“Is that a real question?” Eddie’s hands flounder in the air before they land on the couch cushions and bury themselves there, his nails digging into the upholstery as Steve starts fucking him with his hand.

“I knew you’d be good,” Steve says lowly. “Knew your hands and your lips would feel incredible. I can’t believe how hard you made me come. I wanna make you come like that.”

Eddie’s jaw swings open and his eyebrows knit together, and he thinks to himself that it’s not going to take long at all for Steve to get what he wants.

Steve leans forward, and for a second Eddie thinks he’s going to put his mouth on him, but he just lets a string of spit fall onto the tip of Eddie’s cock and gathers it with his hand, spreading it along his skin that moves in tandem with his strokes. It’s almost as good.

“Oh, Jesus—Steve.” Eddie sucks in a breath as Steve’s fingers tighten, forcing a bead of precum from his slit. “I’m gonna come again. Keep doing that. Keep—keep doing that!”

Steve nods, watching as he works Eddie back to the edge. Watching as he expertly rubs his thumb against the spot that makes Eddie see stars.

His second orgasm is stronger than his first. Eddie’s vision blurs out of focus—probably because his eyes are crossing—and the noise he makes sounds like an animal getting fucking murdered. The muscles in his torso tighten and tense and shudder as Steve enthusiastically jerks his dick, cum gathering in his fist, eyes watching with rapt attention.

Eddie’s body goes limp as Steve slowly lets go of him. When he’s able to focus his eyes, he notices that Steve is looking at his hand in fascination, watching Eddie’s cum stretch between his fingers as he scissors them.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever done that,” he says, bringing his wet hand up to his face. Steve smells his fingers, and then decides to bring them to his spit-slicked lips. One of his fingers pop into his mouth, and he hums around it, as if he’s actually enjoying the taste of Eddie’s release.

Yep. Eddie could definitely, without a doubt, go a third round.

But before his dick does something stupid like get stiff again, he tucks himself away. “And? What did you think?”

Steve pulls his finger from his mouth, grabbing an old napkin from the coffee table to wipe the rest of Eddie’s spend from them. “I think I was wrong.”

Eddie’s heart hammers in his chest, waiting for Steve to start berating him or something for making him do something gay. Even though he’s pretty sure he wasn’t the one who initiated it.

But Steve just smiles and cocks his head to one side. “You definitely aren’t bad at dirty talk.”

A sigh of relief heaves from Eddie’s chest. He smacks Steve’s shoulder, but he smiles right along. “You’re a prick.”

As he stands to grab a towel from the bathroom, Steve calls behind him, “You seemed to like my prick.”

Eddie blushes ferociously. He catches his expression in the mirror and tries to wipe it away, but it’s impossible. He’s just bound to look like a totally fucked-out dipshit for the rest of his life, he guesses. As soon as the water runs warm, Eddie washes his hands and wets two towels. He cleans off his dick and his sticky thighs, and brings the second one to the gorgeous man who’s back to lounging on his living room couch.

“Did you?” Steve asks, taking the towel to better clean his fingers. When he shoves it down the front of his pants, Eddie adverts his eyes.

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it?”

“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “Yes, Steve, I enjoyed it. Fuck.”

“Good.”

Eddie sits next to Steve and tries not to let himself feel awkward. “Yeah. Good.”

“Want to watch Labyrinth now?” Steve casually digs into the bag he brought, grabs the VHS and wiggles it in front of Eddie’s face.

“Absolutely,” says Eddie.

They pop in the tape, and the TV screen glows blue before it starts playing through the ads. Steve sits next to Eddie, their thighs pressed up against each other, just like they had been before.

Steve reaches over and laces his fingers with Eddie’s. They stay like that for the whole movie.

_____

It’s been three days since Steve left. Since Eddie has even heard from him. Keith makes sure they don’t have many shifts together at Family Video (because they never got any work done), so it’s not uncommon that they go this long. But Eddie’s anxiety makes it feel like it’s the end of the fucking world.

God forbid he reach out to Steve himself.

But by the end of the third night, he gets a phone call.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Hey, man.” Steve is on the other line, sounding chipper and unphased.

Maybe Eddie was overthinking it.

“Oh, hey!” he says, a little bit too enthusiastically. He dials it back a bit, clears his throat. “What’s up?”

“Not much. Just got off work. I have the afternoon off.”

“Sweet.” Eddie nervously twirls the chords between his fingers. Time to be brave. “Do you—maybe—want to hang out then?”

“Yeah. That’s why I called, actually. I stole Psycho III from Family Video. Want me to bring it over?”

Eddie’s shoulders sag in relief. Things aren’t changing. Steve won’t estrange himself after what happened, because he’s a good person. Eddie doesn’t even know why he was worried in the first place.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

A few ticks go by, and then Steve quietly asks, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just wondering…”

Eddie waits, the suspense nearly killing him. “Wondering what, Steve?”

“…What are you wearing?”

MASTERLIST

SOCIALS

[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Shit Heard On The SOLDIER Floor #6

Previous: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5

Angeal: No, Genesis, you spaghetti-noodle-spine-having-ass bitch.

Sephiroth: I identify as a tonberry *chases Cloud with a kitchen knife*

Zack: Ra Ra Rasputin *kicks Sephiroth over*

Genesis: Unhand me you cretin *alone, talking to no one*

Angeal: Zack just showed me a picture of the Grinch and said "hear me out"

Lazard: No, Sephiroth, you cannot have a human-sized cat bed in your office "for enrichment"

Cloud: Parkour time *crashes through the air vents*

Sephiroth: I'm the biggest lesbian ally in this department, actually.

Angeal: For the sake of my sanity I'm gonna pretend I didn't just see Zack twerking to One Winged Angel.

Luxiere: I would commit unspeakable atrocities for a crumb of Zack's attention.

Lazard: That stripper pole better be gone when I get back or so help me, Genesis, I will return you to the goddess.

Sephiroth: *does a single pump of sore throat spray* This is enough for sustenance for the day.

Kunsel: Care for a deep-fried cigarette?

Angeal: You look like an AI-generated twink.

Sephiroth: I've grown so tired of Genesis's voice that we now communicate solely through interpretive dance.

Lazard, over the speakers: Whoever heated fish in the break room microwave, please come by my office so I can break your knees.

Zack: Aww, I forgot to feed the Roomba :(

Genesis: I don't know why me and Angeal are being judged. Simulating a birth with a watermelon is a perfectly normal activity for two people.

Kunsel: Hopefully this office party won't end in accidental weed use.

Angeal: WHY IS THERE A FAMILY OF RACCOONS IN THE TRAINING ROOM?

Genesis: I noticed some homosexual subtext in your screams, do you want to talk about that?

Angeal: *sniff sniff* Ooh~ who's barbecuing? OH MY GOD IT'S AN ELECTRIC FIRE.

Roche: Every time I think about chopping my hair short I think "Sephiroth wouldn't want this for me" and the feeling is gone.

Genesis: I made a friend *drags in a skeleton with a Sephiroth wig*

Cloud: *points at Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth* Pure of heart, dumb of ass, big of tit.

Lazard: I told Zack to use Excel and he started sobbing.

Angeal: WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST SEASONING YOUR GROUND BEEF?

Sephiroth: It's extremely rude to ask someone why they're eating a salad bowl of udon at 8 AM. Mind your business, Zack.

Cloud: Genesis likes Loveless so much because the title resonates with his love life.

Zack: You keep your anxiety pills in a takeaway to-go box? Dude that's so fancy.

Lazard: Why is Sephiroth the only one wearing a shirt??

Angeal: Common sense has chased Zack all his life but he wears wheelies so he's faster

Sephiroth: I personally don't use the peace sign because I haven't had a day of peace since I was 12.

Kunsel: I'm never going out in public with Zack again. A child's balloon popped when it went near his hair.

Angeal: No I'm not giving you an aspirin. Last time I gave you one you crushed it and snorted it like cocaine.

Lazard: An overwhelming majority of you peaked in kindergarten.

Sephiroth: Zack, I'm becoming increasingly concerned by the amount of potatoes in your pants right now.

Zack: This year I want an A/B/O themed birthday party.

Sephiroth: Please don't commit tax fraud, Genesis. You won't thrive in prison.

Genesis: Does anyone have an extra ramen packet to give Sephiroth? The 64 he consumed this morning weren't enough.

Roche: Commander Rhapsodos and his emo fringe is our culture.

Zack: I'm at my fucking limit! I'm about to eat a vegetable!

Genesis: He's a son of a bitch Sephiroth: That implies he has a mother, so I don't see how that's an insult.

Zack: Fuck around and find out *said with a chunk of Genesis' red coat hanging from his pocket*

Cloud: Does anyone have an extra brain cell? I lost my remaining one when Genesis spoke to me this morning.

Sephiroth: Damn.

Kunsel: Zack owes me so much money that if he sold his box of random shit he stole from Angeal, he still couldn't pay me back.

Angeal: Why are you guys playing Queen's Blood in the closet? is this a metaphor?

Genesis: Have you prayed to your Sephiroth cardboard cutout yet today?

Sephiroth: Alert me once Rufus Shinra arrives so that I may greet him adequately *said while building a pipe bomb*

Lazard: It's all fun and games until the timeout cage that I ordered online arrives.

Genesis: I will atone for my sins by becoming a nuisance to the environment.

Cloud: If Zack were a scented candle he'd smell like ADHD and crayons.

Sephiroth, standing on a table: DO NOT. EAT. THE CHEESECAKE. IN THE FRIDGE. It's mine.

Angeal: *with a bucket while it's raining hale* Free ice baby.

Zack: I finally have enough gil to buy a sixteen bouncy castles.

Genesis: Being overcome with the desire to eat pasta and call your mother at 2 AM and wondering if you're having a mental breakdown or are possessed by Sephiroth.

Lazard: I can't fire any of you, but I'm about to start setting things on fire.

[farfromstrange]

Weed Cookies | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 3 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Karen receives a box of cookies from one of their clients. Foggy and Matt take a bite. Even with his heightened senses though, Matt doesn't realize what's wrong with the cookies before he's absolutely wasted, and you have to babysit him. Yes, they were edibles.

Warnings: Fluff, faint hints at S3 depressed!Matt and suicidal ideations, attempt at humor, crack fic, accidental drug use, for the sake of this fic we are going to pretend that the edibles were made well enough for Mister I-Know-Everything to miss it

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I wrote this after watching the episode of Grey's Anatomy with the Weed Cookies. I took some behaviorisms from my own experiences and exaggerated them a little to fit the vibe of this fic. I scraped parts of this and once again adjusted them because this was even more poorly written before than it is now, and I added the Nelson, Murdock & Page Season 3 narrative again because that's now the running theme of this event. Anyway, if you choose to consume edibles, stay safe! (Also, I'm just copying and pasting my usual tag lists. if anyone wants to be added for this event, do let me know)

“We just got cookies from Ms. Lebowsky next door,” Karen announces happily when she enters the office, balancing the transparent Tupperware in one hand and her handbag in the other. 

“She told me to thank you for helping her get out of that hellhole,” she says. Her eyes crinkle in the corners as a mischievous grin takes over her face. “There’s plenty for all four of us. Although she did mention Matt a few more times.”

“Ms. Lebowsky?” Foggy asks. He stands in the doorway of his office, holding a freshly brewed coffee. “Isn’t she the elderly lady we helped last week?”

“Yeah, that’s her. I think she has a crush on Matt.” 

He rolls his eyes. “Of course, she does. Who doesn’t? Not that I do, but—well, you get the gist.” The blood rushes to his cheeks, and Karen giggles in response.

From the office on the left, Matt’s voice rings out, “We just did our jobs,” he says. “She made us cookies, dude!” Foggy inspects the box on Karen’s desk. “They’re chocolate chip cookies. Our favorite. See what good looks can buy you?”

Matt chuckles, his fingers tracing the Braille indentations in the documents that are starting to form a mountain before him. “I think we got them because we’re good lawyers, Foggy.”

“Yeah, right. No way! That woman was smitten the second she came in. I really gotta get that blind thing going. I mean, she’s way too old for you, but come on! You’re in a serious committed relationship, and women still come piling at your door. It’s not fair.”

The way he whines like a little kid who has just been denied his favorite candy makes Karen laugh at his antics, and even Matt can’t help but join in. No matter how stressed he is, and how badly he wants to focus, Foggy never fails to lighten the mood.

Ever since moving offices, things have been going well for the trio. 

When Matt met you, he was at his lowest. You helped him climb out of a dark hole that was threatening to swallow him whole after losing Elektra and almost losing everything he worked so hard for to Wilson Fisk. Thanks to you, he found the will to fight again. You brought him back to life.

He wanted to die. He hated himself for the longest time after the building collapsed and forever took the first woman he ever loved down with its ruins, but then you came into his life, and you didn’t care about his baggage. You were far too good for him, but that didn’t matter to you. 

He fell for you hard and fast, and maybe the timing was a little off because what he needed was therapy and not someone new to get attached to. Still, if you hadn’t pulled him back to his feet and encouraged him to fight back against Fisk, saving his friendship with the people he cares most about in the process, he would have never made it far enough to get therapy.

Matt trusts you with his life because he feels like he owes it to you, but he also loves you more than anything. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to him. You’re his soulmate, and he couldn’t be happier.

Nelson & Murdock added Karen to their permanent repertoire. With her, things are flowing much more smoothly, and they’re actually making money now. They’re expensive, as Foggy likes to say it. Matt’s friends are just as happy as he is, giving him hope for the future.

“Hey,” Foggy snaps him out of his trance, “Earth to Murdock.”

Matt blinks behind his glasses, his fingers halting their frantic movements along the paper. “While I don’t disagree with what you’re saying,” he says, “please don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that women are piling at my door.”

Karen snorts. “Trust me, Matt. She knows,” she says.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t remind her of that.”

“My lips are sealed. Foggy?”

He sighs, once again dramatically. “As long as you don’t sleep with them, you have nothing to fear, my friend.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” says Matt. “The one I’m sleeping with is incomparable.”

Foggy grimaces. “Oh, dude. Gross! You know, God made conscious thought as a mechanism for humans to know when to shut up.”

“To be fair, ninety percent of the population don’t know how to use that mechanism,” Karen jumps to Matt’s defense.

As he laughs, he takes a whiff of the air surrounding their new baked goods. Matt can smell the sweet chocolate of the cookies, and somewhat of a herbal essence, but he can’t quite pinpoint why the scent seems so familiar. 

Karen walks around her desk to drop her bag and her coat. “So, do guys want a cookie?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.

“I’ll take one,” Foggy is quick to answer.

Matt nods from his desk. “I’ll try one, too.”

The innocent decision to indulge in a sweet treat soon comes back to bite them in the ass though. Heavily.

When Matt first bit into the cookie, he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. It tasted like chocolate mixed with basil, sugar, honey, and the kind of flour Ms. Lebowsky used, but he didn’t find much else wrong with it. Perhaps if he hadn’t allowed himself to get distracted by his phone calling out your name and the sweetest text he could have possibly received this early in the morning from the love of his life, he would have noticed that something tasted off about these cookies. And that what he believed to have been basil as a secret ingredient was something else entirely.

When lunchtime finally rolls around, you drop everything you were doing before and make your way to Matt’s office. You always spend lunch together. It’s your favorite time of the day. For an hour, you can forget the stress of your workplace and focus on him. He’s your safe haven. Your home. You crave to memorize his features anew every day so that you will have something to carry around with you when he has to work a bit longer, or when he goes out at night and his Daredevil duties drag on beyond what he planned. 

You need to be with him as much as possible because you’re scared that your happiness will shatter on a white cloth, and you will be forced to move on—you can’t imagine losing him. You dedicated your life to loving him, and the thought of ever losing that privilege kills you. 

On your way out, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You smile, thinking that it’s Matt, but when Karen’s number pops up on your screen, you frown. 

‘We have a problem,’ she texted you. Without context. 

All the alarms in your head start blaring, and you start to walk a little faster. You start imagining all possible scenarios. When you ask Karen what’s going on, she doesn’t even reply. What if someone got hurt? What if something happened to Matt? You almost lost him once; you can’t go through that again. 

You burst into the new office space that your friends share a few minutes later, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your pulsating temples. You’re ready to fight whoever dared to hurt the man you love, or possibly threaten your friends, or both, but when you look up and see your darling boyfriend with his cheek pressed against one of the leaves on their gigantic office plant as if the overgrown Calathea were the coziest pillow he has ever touched, you understand why Karen texted you that you—both you and her—have a problem. A big one, too, judging by the looks of it.

“What is going on here?” you ask the dreaded question, shutting the door behind you.

Only then do you notice Karen to your right in Foggy’s office, trying to get him off of his office chair. He’s belting the chorus of Defying Gravity at the top of his lungs, and he’s got a broom clutched tightly in his right hand.

Oh boy. Your wide eyes drift to Karen’s desk in the middle of the room. As soon as you see the chocolate cookies inside the Tupperware, it slowly begins to dawn on you.

You’re not sure which is worse: Matt cradling a houseplant with his glasses discarded and the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone as he’s coated in sweat, or Foggy singing one of Broadway’s greatest ballads so off-key that the Calathea is starting to wither.

It takes Matt much longer than usual to sense your presence in the room. He calls your name, and his lips curl into a bright grin. Even completely out of it, he looks like an angel on earth. 

“Matthew,” you say. You approach him like you would approach a little kid. He’s on his knees, so the analogy isn’t far off. 

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Sweetheart,” he greets you, and you have never heard this man sound so relaxed. His hazel eyes are red-rimmed and glazed over, but the most obvious change lies in his behavior. 

“Feel that.” He reaches for your hand when you’re close enough for him to smell you, but he misses. “Where are you?” Matt pouts. “I can’t see.”

You want to laugh, but this is not the time. “You are blind, baby,” you remind him. 

“Since when?”

“Over twenty years.”

“Oh.” He finally gets a hold of your hand. The conversation seems to go right over his head. “Feel the power of nature,” he tells you. “It’s so soft.”

You want to drag him away from the potentially dangerous plant if he decides to eat it, but the sight of him is one to behold. He looks downright adorable. 

You have to focus though. You gently pat his hand. “Maybe later,” you say, and then you make your way to Karen’s desk to inspect the cookies.

Behind you, she calls your name. You twirl around. From the looks of it, she managed to get Foggy down from his chair, but he remains singing at the top of his lungs. All the signs point to one thing, and one thing only.

“Did you give my boyfriend weed cookies?” you sound a lot more condescending than you planned to. 

Karen shakes her head. Her face is pale, and she looks just as panicked as you do. “Those are not mine,” she says. 

“But you knew they were edibles?!”

“Of course, I didn’t! I started questioning it when Matt started cuddling the plant because his Braille felt like boobs and he didn't want to cheat on you, so he decided that he needed to touch some grass.” She points to him, exasperated. As if on cue, Matt lets out a happy little sigh.

Your brain struggles to process all of the information at once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“He said that his Braille feels like boobs. I don’t know! I thought he was messing with me until Foggy turned into Elphaba, and that’s when I took a bite and realized there was weed in them,” she says.

You groan, your worried eyes momentarily flicking back to your high boyfriend. High. That’s not a word you thought you would ever associate with him. “How did this happen?” you ask.

“Ms. Lebowsky, the lady next door, we helped her out the other day, and this morning, she gave me these cookies. I called her when these two started acting like idiots—more than usual, anyway. Turns out, she confused them with the ones her niece made for her birthday party tomorrow.”

“Her niece made edibles for her birthday party?”

“Please, don’t ask. I don’t have all the details. I just–”

“It’s fine,” you cut her off. “Just tell me that you’ve got Foggy under control.”

Karen peeks in through the window to his office. “More or less, yeah. You’ve got Matt?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him.”

You have to take care of him. He’s your responsibility. But as calm as he is right now, his heightened senses make the situation a lot more complex than the mere accidental consumption of edibles.

Walking over to him, you try to haul him up. He protests, at first, but then he feels the fabric of your shirt, and he slacks.

Matt wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “You’re so soft,” he coos. “You smell like honey.”

With his entire weight on you, you have to widen your stance so you won’t fall over. His usually quick reflexes are nonexistent right now; he won’t be able to catch you if you trip, and then you’re both going to get hurt.

“You know what’s even softer?” you ask.

“The plant,” he answers confidently. He sounds like a more careless version of himself. You can’t deny that it does something to you.

“No, silly,” you chuckle softly, “I meant your bed.”

“Oh. But I’m not tired.”

“You’re high.”

He pouts. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” You stroke his back. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.”

He stiffens and relaxes at the same time. You swear you can feel the electricity in his veins as his nerves respond to the feeling of your skin on his. It’s like he’s on fire. Like your touch feels a million times more intense, and he’s being crushed under the weight of it in a way that makes him crave more. 

He squeezes you tighter, trying to get swallowed by you, consumed to the point that you are the same person. The drugs are doing a number on him, and his already heightened sense of feeling has increased tenfold to the point you’re not sure if it’s pleasurable or painful or both. It must be agonizing, yet at the same time there is a high chance that the weed is calming his nerves and dampening his perception to the point he’s taking everything in without the added weight—he’s enjoying the newfound sensations in limbo, and he’s unaffected by it. You wonder how long that is going to last. 

After bidding farewell to Karen, wishing her good luck with Foggy who has now reached a point of his high where he’s lying on the floor, demanding to listen to Bohemian Rhapsody and cry over Freddie Mercury. She assures you that she has got it under control, apologizes again, and then sends you on your way.

“Bye, Karen,” Matt says. “You have very nice hair.” His hand tangles in yours, and his face lights up like a Christmas Tree. You managed to convince him to put his glasses on, at least, or he might get irritated. “Never mind,” his voice turns into a pur. 

Usually, you would shiver at his fingers in your hair, tracing the strands and sensually massaging your scalp only he knows how to, but today is not one of those days. You’re still concerned about the effects that the weed might have on him, so you want to be careful, although you’re not sure how much longer you can keep yourself from laughing. 

As you maneuver Matt through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, his cane hovers above the ground and his arm is hooked around yours. Without you, he would have run off into traffic by now. He has absolutely no spatial awareness anymore. 

Every sound, scent, and texture seems to capture his attention, but there's one sensation in particular that he can't seem to shake: thirst. You’re not even home yet, and you had to stop by a convenience store to get him a bottle of water. He shed his coat, which you are now carrying for him while also guiding him while simultaneously trying not to attract any unwanted attention. 

You can’t help but look at him as though he is your whole world. He is. He is everything to you, even high on edibles he never meant to consume, and acting like a feral toddler. If anything, you are even prouder now that he is yours. 

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close to you, “do you think fire hydrants taste like licorice?”

You shake your head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Matt, don’t lick the fire hydrant.” 

He pouts. For a moment, you think that you have steered off any possible disaster, but that was only wishful thinking.

Matt’s curiosity knows no bounds, and he’s soon reaching out to touch anything that catches his eye. He runs his fingers along the rough brick foundation of a building, marveling at the texture, and he stops to sniff a flower, declaring, “This is the most beautiful flower I have ever smelled.”

You pluck it for him, and he carries it in the pocket of his coat with a happy smile. 

You’re both exhausted when you finally make it to his apartment. Getting his large frame through the door is one thing, stopping him from tearing the tap off the sink as he desperately searches for liquid with the words, “Water!” is another.

“Okay, okay,” you try to calm him. You grab a bottle from the fridge, open it for him, and force him to take it. “Drink.”

One touch is enough for him to drop it. “It’s cold,” he recoils in agony.

You sigh. “Tap water it is, then.”

You have never seen him down so many glasses of water. He is severely dehydrated and sensitive to changes in temperature. It’s either too hot or too cold, and you’re so glad that Karen texted you when she did.

You manage to get him to the couch with some snacks that he devours within seconds. If he moves one more inch today, you may not be able to catch him again.

His lip twitches. “Chickens don’t have any arms.”

You pause in the process of wrapping him in a blanket, staring blankly ahead at him. “Excuse me?” you ask.

“Chickens don’t have any arms,” Matt states. “Every American citizen has the right to bear arms under the second amendment in the constitution. If an egg was fertilized on US soil, and the chicken hatched there as well, technically, that makes them a citizen of the United States of America, therefore allowing tiny creatures without arms the right to bear arms, but who gives the bears their arms?” 

You’re so flabbergasted that the absurdity of the situation eludes you. The words process only slowly in your mind, and when they do, they cause a wave of confusion to wash over you before it turns into genuine amusement, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from laughing at him.

You can pinpoint the exact second the thought escapes his mind and something else replaces it. His hand brushes over the leather couch. “Smooth,” he observes. You haven’t even fully processed his very philosophical question about the animal kingdom before he drops his cheek down on the couch.

The man who has been carrying the weight of the world in bricks on his back for years is finally relaxed; it shouldn’t leave such a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

You kneel in front of him, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Do you need anything?” you ask.

Matt’s gaze is filled with an odd sort of clarity. “Nah. Just you,” he mumbles.

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you brush a sweaty strand of hair away from his forehead. "I'm right here," you reassure him. 

He nods, his eyelids drooping as the effects of the edibles start to take their toll. “Good.” He searches for your hand, and you help him intertwine your fingers. A giddy smile finds its way onto his face. “You’re warm.”

You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “And you’re high,” you tease.

Matt huffs out a breathy laugh. “Mmh, yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay. ‘Cause you’re here.”

Despite the chaos and the unexpected turn of events, there’s a sense of contentment settling over you as you watch him drift off into a state of bliss. He deserves it more than anyone. 

You stay by his side, watching over him as he succumbs to the pull of sleep that you’re all too familiar with after a sudden high. 

“Note to self,” you say to yourself, “never eat a stranger’s cookies without drug testing them first.”

And love has funny ways of making even the most absurd moments feel strangely beautiful.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan

[krvrawr]

Weed & Self-Pleasure With Your Captain !

Captain John ‘ Soap ’ MacTavish x Trans Male! Reader

A/N ; updated my shit so view my pinned and everything !! inspired by my source memory which was triggered 2 days ago 🤩 which was my first time trying weed w this dude that i knew ( memory ) , ALSO FUCKING SOAP 09 >>>>> .

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

CW ; smut , soap 09 , consuming weed , small fluff in the end <3 .

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

WARNING IN SMUT ; afab anatomy , reader fingering himself ( with 3 fingers ) , reader being pre-everything ( breasts , cunt , clit mentioned ) , soap watching the reader touching himself , soap touching himself , aftercare .

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

visual smut ; ★ !!

┈┈───╼⊳⊰ 𐂯 ⊱⊲╾───┈┈

if i missed anything lmk :3

You do not know how it happened that you were laying on your Captain's bed masturbating, maybe it was influence by the weed he offered you to try. All you knew is that weed is making you feel so sleepy and horny and that feeling from your finger going in and out of your wet and tight cunt, making you feel so good and causing small moans. You didn't care if he watched you touching yourself, which he did, he knew you were clearly influenced by weed to feel that way. He felt himself getting hard at the sight and his eyes watched over your naked form. Your tits, that you were planning on getting chopped off, and cunt on display for him, you would spread your legs wider when you felt more good. Soap felt himself getting hard while watching your handsome form and smoking weed, he didn't expect you to be doing this for your first time trying weed but he loved the sight in front of him. After thrusting your finger in and out in slow and deep pace, you added second finger inside of you, making you moan a little louder and slowly grinding against your fingers. Soap was mesmerized by the sight of two fingers inside of your tight cunt, the grinding and your face, he didn't realise he rubbed his cock with his other hand until he moaned. Which you didn't even reacted to as only thing in your mind was pleasure, you didn't care if you would cum or not, you just wanted to feel pleasure. You started to speed up your fingers in deep thrusts as you quietly moan, your hand went over to your breast, going to squeeze the nipple, making you close your eyes and your mouth opening in silent moan. Soap placed the cig down as he walked over to you, rubbing his crotch, he watched the way your hips grinded against your fingers and your other fingers playing with nipple. Your small actions only making him more aroused but he knew better than to take advantage of you in this state. You felt his fingers brushing against your cheek, making you lean into Soaps touch, making him look at you with awh look.

“You think you can handle third finger darling?” He asked you with his Scottish accent slipping out and his voice rough, you replied with a small nod.

You added a third finger, making you moan loudly and arching your back. Your eyes closed in pure bliss as your fingers went somewhat fast but deep inside of you with wet sounds coming from your cunt.

“Good lad” You heard him calling you which made your heart beating fast as you felt more pleasure within you moaned and your hand from breast left to your sensitive clit, rubbing it slightly as you felt your body jolt from it. Making you so worked up over your own actions, Soap smiled at you as he stroked his clothed cock, he didn't care about his own pleasure, much, only cared about you. After sometime you threw your head back, eyes half open as you started to get sleepy, your fingers still pleasuring you, you felt something forming in your lower abdomen as you picked faster pace. Soft moans and gasps escaping your barely open mouth, opening your legs a bit wider and stroking your clit faster. Your eyes closed as a whimper, saying Soaps name, left your mouth and felt sticky and thick liquid on your fingers. Soaps heart beat fast as he heard you saying his name, causing him to release his own pleasure.

“Good job, pretty boy” He murmured as he kissed your forehead, your fingers left your body, making you gasp.

After your amazing release of pleasure, you drifted off to sleep peacefully. Soap smiled to himself, he went to take a small wet towel from the bathroom to clean your sensitive cunt from sticky liquid and the rest of your body. He decided to take care of you first then himself, after cleaning he simply put back on your boxers and one of his shirts on you, which after he cleaned himself. He got in bed with you under a warm blanket, you were on top of him, your face against the fabric of shirt.

His arms were wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead, “Good night lad” He whispered into your ear, making you smile in your sleep.

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[itgirlgyu]

TXT MTL! would i smoke my first weed with them?

◌⃘ ⪩☘️⪨ ۫ ִ✮ txt.ot5% ໒꒱ WORD COUNT⇆ 613!﹒☆WARNINGS: do not condone smoking, will never smoke﹒♡﹒🔋

★◜YEONJUN...

ah yes I will actually smoke with him.

because I think he will hook me with some fine imported mary jane.

puff puff pass baby.

i would be like, yeonjun ☝️☺️ i heard for the first timer you have to pass the smoke from your mouth,,

also like of course he would consume nothing but the best of it.

his dealer probably wears some gucci set as he delivers it to him.

he won't even ask me to venmo the money back to him.

he would probably start acting like best friends though, trying to tell me his relationship problems.

like no sir

which is a con because i want to get into his pants.

sorry yeonjun im not your bro.

★◜SOOBIN...

hard no.

he doesn't even know where his dealer is from.

but dude smelled fine so maybe it's ok to consume.

but im not ready for that kinda risk in my life.

to be honest he only smokes to get some good sleep so he isn't even the best option to smoke with.

very boring.

04/10

that four is because the off chance you find him in a happy mood and got to smoke and he will actually take off his clothes and twerk if provoked enough.

★◜BEOMGYU...

i think for the first time he would be fine.

but like soobin, don't expect him to know where his dealer shits from.

probably gets his shit while his dealer is getting chased by police.

which to be honestly would be thrilling if beomgyu wasn't crying half the drive.

still has the audacity to be like,, bestie you ready?!?!

as if he didn't commit to half his life crimes on the drive earlier.

bro got loser rizz.

probably tells you it's okay to hold his hands when you take your first puff.

would nod knowingly in sympathy when you shoot him a dirty look.

gets high way too fast.

you finish one puff and he's out in the corner, dazed out of his mind.

i think the quiet is fine, so yeah he will just do fine.

im not saying i might fall in love with him but i might.

and so will you.

thats why stay away from drugs kid.

★◜TAEHYUN...

doesn't do weed.

too classy for it.

i suggest mushrooms and he looks at me like i insulted that his grandmother smells like fake LV.

whatever that means.

but he is shocked, like his palm on his chest and mouth making perfect 'o'.

drinks alcohol like a real man.

maybe if you convinced to smoke with you, he will probably go into a catatonic state, like you won't know but he is not there.

mentally.

prefers edibles after hitting the bong a bit to many times despite his "irk" for it.

mannequin challenge 2k23 edition.

you push his arm and he's actually sleeping like a baby.

maybe the best one he's ever gotten.

would be a good smoking partner to be honest.

if he's awake for it of course.

★◜HUENING KAI...

best option.

just yes.

anything with him is a yes.

he would be so cool with you.

like he takes care of you.

also snatches the bong when you've done too much.

makes you eat stuff so you don't get too high and end up suffering the consequences.

kinda panics when he sees the stuff he made you eat were laced with edibles.

i want him as my best friend if that isn't clear yet.

probably gets really high off his mind.

but like very, very giggly way.

which is always the best version!

fuck weeds, id even do hard drugs with him ( i won't.)

aN from txt crack to txt literally doing crack.

©ITGIRLGYU 2023! feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated, and encouraged!

PERM TAGLIST / @impureperhaps @full-sunnies @wonioml @1921choi

[spiraledfaun]

I'm a Deerboy Toy!

Welcome to my blog, everyone, I'm Faun, your friendly neighborhood deerboy ^^

🦌Facts About Me🦌

I'm 29

Grayromantic Demi-Bisexual

Trans Man (1 year on T!!! :D)

Exclusively a Submissive Bottom (though I will occasionally switch for other subs)

Dumb Slutty Hypnokinkster

Obsessed with Spirals

I write Hypnosmut

Erotica and Play Menu [Here]

I follow from another blog, so if you're a fellow kink blog assessing if we're mutuals for safety reasons, shoot me a message!

✅️Please Use These Terms✅️

Boy, man, guy, dude

Slut, toy, pet

Chest 👍🏻 (Paid good money to not have tits so this is the only word I'm good with rn)

Cock, dick, tdick, cocklet

Front hole, pussy, boypussy, cunt, boycunt -- I am a boy with a nice, wet hole. You can only use these terms with the "boy" part in mind :) Abuse these privileges, and I block you.

Dumb (not stupid), needy, desperate, slutty

Basically all degradation/humiliation through at least a mild praise kink lens

❌️Please Don't Do These❌️

Do not interact if you are under 18/a minor. I know different countries have different age thresholds, but this is my choice regardless. (Ageless blogs will be blocked)

Don't ask me for pictures. If I want to give you pictures, I will offer.

Don't assume I want to enter a dynamic with you! I am open to finding someone, but it does not consume me. I'm also grayromantic demisexual, which means, for me, I'm not interested in getting romantic with anyone new.

No misgendering/detrans/sissification/forcedfem kinks in my inbox or on my posts! I am a believer in kink and let kink, but those ones are going to stay far away from me, thank you.

Don't call me anything not in the lists! If you're unsure or think it's pretty close (like if I'm cool with slut, then Spiral Slut is fine) but isn't there, please ask, I'd so much rather answer a respectful question than have to block you for being a dick.

I love chatting with others, and my inbox is always open, and anon is always on, so feel free to chat or play~ I will always talk with any trans person, big T4T Vibes, so don't be shy and say hi! I'm open to playing or talking to anyone so long as you're respectful, but I will be more cautious if you're a cishet man.

😈Main Kinks😈

Hypnosis(/Brainwashing/Mind Control): The Big One. I love going down and feeling nice and fuzzy. Mmm. Yes please.

Spirals: This is not usually listed as a kink, but I love spirals, especially flashy ones that fill my mind 🤤

Corruption: Mostly sexual in nature, but I don't *not* enjoy religious corruption.

Tentacles: I am a big sucker (👀) for tentacles, especially in combination with other listed kinks.

Aphrodisiacs/Drugging: This mostly means weed (and fantasy drugs/pollen/nectar), but someday I want to (safely) try other things for this kink ^^

Toy/Pet Play/Free Use: Combined because they check a lot of the same boxes for me. I've never quite indulged in pet play before, but I am a deerboy and I love being petted 🥺

Exhibitionism: This is pretty much exclusively offline, but I do like being shown off, even online, and I like thinking about people watching me get off or get used and enjoying themselves 😊

Mommy/Lactation Kink: Very very specific, I want to be made to drink someone's milk from their breasts and have it corrupt/hypnotize/drug me 😅

CNC: emphasis on the Consent, but holy shit please it's so hot. I'm not into super violent stuff but more in line with my other kinks, for reference.

I am totally into one-offs, anons, new friends that I haven't met yet, and mutuals dropping in to drop me, so come play! I'm just a dumb, slutty little toy and I need to be used. 🥺

[brightlotusmoon]

the "stoner" accent : r/asklinguistics

"I would also say as a person born and raised in the south bay (southern coast of the SF bay) that I know a lot of people who honest to god talk like that, especially from around santa cruz, and also that it does get exaggerated when people are stoned (something about the slurring/relaxed face)"

"so I found this thread because I'm having this exact experience. Except: I am a woman from New Zealand. I've been stoned a handful of times and each time I am speaking in a stereotypical Californian accent. My theory behind it is I consume a lot of US media (songs, movies, social media) and maybe my subconscious voice just seems to want to speak like that. I have been to California several times over the years and enjoy the accents of the friends I made there. I even use so much American slang myself (bruh, dude) and that adds to my exaggerated stoner voice."

"Jon Mooallem in his book "Wild Ones" describes this as a "stoner drawl." I had it before I smoked weed, a sort of low energy apathetic speech, using as little enthusiasm and energy as one can muster to speak. I grew up on the Puget Sound in WA state.

I did smoke weed for a number of years beginning in my early 20s, often daily. It likely affected my speech and other behavior/cognitive functions, for better or worse. People can tell that I smoked weed, but they could also "tell that" while I was in high school before I ever smoked weed."

_

I decided to think about how the cerebral palsy slur might be altered by the stoned slur and fell down a rabbit hole.

[hoshis-tigers-den]

LAY WITH ME

Pairing : Hansol Vernon Chwe x Male Reader

Genre : Suggestive/Fluff

Summary : Y/N spends a lazy smoking weed with his boyfriend, Vernon.

Warning : Marijuana use, slight sexual content but bearly

Note : I took a chapter from my oc book and made it male reader cause I'm lazy lol

As the sun rises on a quiet Sunday morning, it's bright rays cast themselves onto slumbering Y/N. Blinking away sleep's call, it takes a bit for Y/N to collect his thoughts. His mind was out of touch from either his exhaustion or the edibles he had consumed the night before.

A slight movement from under the covers wakes Y/N fully. He opens his eyes to see the messy hair his sleeping partner, Vernon. Y/N smiles. He sure wouldn't mind to wake up to him like these every morning.

Y/N runs a hand along his back, starting from the base of his spine to find it's way to his hair. He gently brushes Vernon's hair out of his face making him stir a bit but not enough to wake him.

His fingers hop from one mark to another on his tanned skin. He lost track of time enjoying the feel and sight of Vernon's body. It was long enough for Vernon to wake.

"Stop it...tickles.." Vernon mumbles against Y/Ns chest.

"Maybe I will. Maybe I won't."

"You better, bitch."

"You can't call me a bitch when you're my 'bottom bitch'.

"Oh shut up." Vernon protests as he pushes Y/N's shoulder, unable to think of a witty comment. Y/N laughs at Vernon as he looks away with a light pink blush dusting his face.

"My baby shy?" Y/N pesters. Vernon wasalways cool and composed but Y/N was the one person would destroy that image and make him a blushing mess.

"Dude, you're literally no better than me. You have an internal panic every time we bang." Vernon looks up giving a winning smirk.

"Got me there." Y/N gives in and kisses the smile on his lover's face.

They pull each closer, embracing each other's warmth. Quiet moments like these were rare with their careers. They didn't have to say or do anything, just having each was enough. Y/N lets out a sigh of contentment.

"Yo what's up?" Vernon asks while rubbing circles on Y/N's chest.

"Nothing. Just content."

"With what?"

"With us. I like being together."

"Ditto. Sex, weed and you are all I need today." Vernon knows that's probably going to be all for today.

"All in that required order?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"Probably is the correct order but maybe we can switch it up today." Y/N leans over to the nightstand and grabs a prerolled blunt the had been left over the night before and a lighter. He lights it and takes a puff of it and pulls Vernon in for a kiss. Vernon inhales the intoxicating smoke. His head buzzing as the high settles in.

He takes the blunt from Y/N and does the same to him. The room fills with the heavy smell of marijuana that will end up being a trouble to remove from all the linens but the problem will be reserve for later.

Vernon pulls Y/N into a sloppy kiss. Their tongues entangle, fighting with each other. Hands roaming their bodies. Y/N's hands exploring Vernon's chest, kneading the soft flesh.

Letting out a moan, Vernon enjoys the sensation of Y/N playing with his nipples. Nails pinch and scratch at them. A mixture of pain and pleasure amplifies by the high of the marijuana.

They continue their makeout session for a few minutes till Y/n whines. Upon hearing him, Vernon separates.

"Mmm...too tired." Y/N rolls over to hug his cat squish mallow. His mood changing quickly. It always tended to be unpredictable when he was under the influence.

Hyper sexual to down right tired in a matter of seconds. It seemed tonight the latter had won.

"Dude, don't you dare do this to me." Vernon gently nudges Y/N's back.

"We'll continue later..just sleepy."

"You're the one who wanted it first!"

"I recall that but you know how weed gets me."

"Asshole."

Y/N begins to snore after a few minutes of silence and all Vernon could do is sit there slightly mad and sexuality frustrated. Y/N's tattooed ribs raise and fall with each breath.

He's so cute when he's asleep.

While together Y/N would find himself falling asleep first. Within a short while the feeling of being loved and safe would lull the usually uneasy boy to sleep.

Smiling, he realizes to make the best of the undesired moment and spoons his lover. The smell of Y/N's shampoo mixed with sweat envelops Vernon's senses. His hands roam in Y/N's messy h/c mullet.

Slowly he begans to braid the long strands of hair all while humming a random song he remembered posting on his Instagram story a few days back. Braiding was something he never realized he had gotten good at till he started to date Y/N. He had never been one to succeed at it with his little sister. Poor Sophia would often have a rat's nest after Vernon's ill attempts.

"Love you...a lot." Vernon whispers into Y/Ns ear. They don't say it very often as they know love is beyond just words but he feels the moment is too perfect to not let it goes without saying it.

"Love you too. Maybe too much." Y/N turns after waking from the gentle whisper. It sometimes genuinely scared Y/N how much he would sacrifice for the man he loved.

"I know. Just go back you sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

Vernon pulls Y/N closer where his back met his chest. His warmth surrounding Y/N.

Y/N listened to Vernon steady heart beat. A rythm meant for a song. It was that very beat that guided him to sleep.

[hydesjackiespuddinpop]

Est: 1972/1973

Members:

First Generation: Eric Forman Steven Hyde Michael Kelso Fez Donna Pinciotti Jackie Burkhart Kitty Forman (kitchen) Red Forman (kitchen)

Second Generation: Leia Forman Gwen Runck Jay Kelso Nate Runck Nikki Velasco Ozzie Takada

Third Generation:

Anne-Marie Kelso Jonah Shaland-Mitchell Martin Martin Kira Kwan June Guzman-Queimada Lois Clarkson Cleo Joy-Martelli

Visitors:

Laurie Forman Mitch Miller Schatzi Mr. Wilkinson Etienne Marshall Leo Chingkwake Andrew Jill Alice Cooper Steven Tyler (cutout) Joe Perry (cutout) Bob Pinciotti Midge Pinciotti Mrs. McGee Jackie's plush unicorn Coach Ferguson Jerry Thunder The Station Manager Waitress Sarah Mitchell Fatso The Clown Schatzi Mitch Miller Delilah Reed Kristie Forman Darline Joy Kelly Shaland Serena Marotti Betsy Kelso

About

The Circle is a way for the creators to showcase a vital component of the '70s – smoking weed. According to the show creators, the blunt or joint is passed around ahead of the person speaking on camera, thus never shown. The circle usually takes place in the basement and features four people, though these rules are bent on occasion. On special occasions, the circle has been used to show the characters partaking in consuming other things than weed, such as dinner, alcohol, ice cream, cigars, hash brownies (accidentally) or nothing at all. During such scenes, adults also participate.

On occasion, the circle scenes are followed by scenes where the characters act sober while being still high, but more often that not, no one seems to suffer any ill effects after the fact. A notable case was the second-to-last episode where a particularly potent "stash" was acquired by the gang when Fez's friend from his homeland visited. Hyde, who was unquestionably the most frequent pot smoker in The Circle, actually quit smoking for a period of time because he got too high.

The Circle also remained in the '90s and '2000s, where the gang would still smoke and occasionally drink.

Rules

The circle is not:

An area where people can talk about their feelings.

A place where people can cry.

For the faint of heart.

A place where people can grope each other.

But it is:

Where laughing occurs.

Where random stuff is discussed.

Where some of the dumbest decisions are made.

Very candid.

One of the most well-known elements of the show.

A place to sing random songs.

Quotes

That '70s Show

Hyde – I would be so pissed at you if I had the ability to feel anger right now...thank God I don't!

Fez – You know guys, sometimes I wish we were cartoon teenagers

Hyde – Zoinks. That'd be super, Fez

Kelso – Alright, guys...I have a confession...I do shave my legs. I just love the way it feels!

Hyde – Man, when two people break up, it's the saddest thing...except for right now, when it's funny!

Hyde – Dude, I can't close my mouth...This is freakin' me out, man!

Hyde – Hahahaa, ohh weather kicks ass

Hyde – No way is Samantha hotter than Jeannie! Hey, I heard there was an episode they never aired.. where Jeannie gets totally naked! The government banned it.

Kelso – You know what's a funny word? Pickle-Weasel!

Kelso – You guys are never gonna believe this. Jackie cheated on me. With the cheese guy!!

Hyde - (dramatically pretends to be shocked) No!

That '90s Show

Gwen - "You're fun!"

Nikki - "You're fun! Should we be funyuns?"

Gwen - "Funyuns!"

That '2000s Show

Anne-Marie - “Oh my god. I just got stoned. Did I get stoned because I feel like I got stoned?

Cleo - Try this leafy mint. It tastes like Fruit Loops

[gorey]

been randomly tweeting about this on zero sleep but reformatting in better detail for tumblr bc oh my gd I forgot about just how fucked up a part of 2018 was for us in an incredibly short span of time

- been 18 for a month, flagrantly abusing prescription ketamine, at our wits' end

- finally run out of ket when the use overtook the refill schedule, have a really vulnerable moment on video call with some summer camp friends

- literally the next day. walk over to the local garden store, get hired for the landscaping crew as a stealth transmasc binding full time we're talking manual labor 8 hours a day in the boiling sun in the titty squisher Plus we're weak as shit Plus we get in trouble for asking to use a client's bathroom bc we can't disclose that we don't have the parts required to piss in an empty Gatorade bottle. This lasts less than a week.

- break up with our long term partner, kiss best friend who is dating other best friend (who I'd had much stronger feelings for for a long time) (they both hate me now and we don't speak but that falling out didn't happen until several years after all this), try to like. get in a polycule with the two of them but I'm still talking to my ex and we get back together almost immediately on the condition that they get therapy (they never did) bc they started showing the bare minimum signs of actually loving me and I was of weak constitution

- after the landscaping crew I manage to worm my way into freelancing as a landscaper clearing the back lot of a local bakery (free fine pastries and coffee a massive perk) (also shoutout to the dude who would come by and harvest bamboo to make canes with, he helped me figure out how to work more efficiently).

- have massive sexuality crisis (false flag, was identifying as bi decided I was gay now I realize I'm bi I just had a lot of Girl Trauma from my other shitty ex) while working the lot just wandering around in a stupor imagining really unpleasant scenarios. I bought some really weird camel cigs that I've never had before or since they were tiny and odd tasting

- injure myself and never go back to work bc now it's time for my top surgery

Fast forward a few months I, titless, have moved in with the person I failed to break up with to escape my demented abusive father who had moved back in from an old folks home earlier that year to cut costs, get an awful awful job at chipotle, dive right back into my ketamine abuse now with even greater weed access for a truly mindbending experience, didn't need to pay rent bc my partner (now Actually my ex but not til several years after this) has RICH and ABUSIVE parents that were disappointed in their performance at college so they literally BOUGHT A HOUSE, made it be in my partner's name and had them play landlord for 2 chill friends and 1 absolute asshole all engineering/compsci students who would buy 4-aco-dmt on the gray net and built all kinds of weird fucking shit and art installations and one of them (the one who only ever consumed soylent) got a tarantula named APPLEBEES bc my partner as the fucking homeowner (vomit emoji) had naming rights for any bug introduced in their vicinity. Partner's deeply suicidal plans on dying after they graduate (fortunately didn't happen) I am utterly powerless in the face of this I'm being emotionally neglected and working myself to the bone but it was like one of the best eras of my life bc I got to get obscenely high and wander in the woods or just sit in the kitchen with the rave lights going listening to Blood Orange

[PRIEST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CONFESSION BOOTH RIPS A FAT VAPE HIT]

[queenofrunonsentences]

Okay so, a prompt...Eddie and Chrissy on their first date 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

You got it dude, This one got away from me and it's over 4k words so I'm sorry but that's what you get when you send me cute prompts.

This is Eddie and Chrissy's first date, plus a little rewrite of their scene at the picnic table because this is a HAPPY STORY my friends.'

Re write of the scene in the woods

When Chrissy had asked Eddie for drugs near the end of senior year he had been shocked, the queen of Hawkins high wanted to get high?  He had invited her to meet him after school in his secret spot in the woods. Nobody ever bothered him there and he often went there during lunch to smoke a bowl before going back to class. He had been hesitant to share the spot but she had seemed desperate.  When they had met up, she had been dressed in her cheer uniform and seemed just as nervous as he was. It had made him smile when she admitted he wasn’t what she thought he would be.

From his brief assessment, she seemed to be really going through something. She didn’t want to talk about it but he assumed it was either her home life or her relationship. He didn’t want to press, knowing it would only make him look creepy, but he also didn’t want to take advantage and give her something too intense that she wasn’t ready for. When she had asked for something harder, he had lied and insisted he didn’t delve into the heavier stuff anymore.

She had seemed nervous, unsure how to even go about consuming what she bought from him. He reassured her that it was totally normal but that if she wanted he could roll her some joints to get her started. She sat across from him at the picnic table, watching closely as he picked apart the nugs of his own weed and filled the papers with it, his tongue poked out to wet the papers as he rolled it up expertly. She was so enraptured by the process it took the click of a lighter to snap her out of it.  He was lighting the joint and taking a deep pull before offering it to her. 

She took it carefully between her polished nails, eyeing it curiously. “Want me to talk you through it?” he offered gently and she nodded silently. He smiled and leaned onto his elbows on the table. “Okay, inhale deeply and hold it in for 5 seconds?” he instructed, watching as she did as he instructed. “Atta girl, alright now exhale slowly.”  He chuckled as she attempted to, but sputtered and started to cough.  “That’s alright, everybody nearly coughs up a lung their first time.” He insisted, reaching over to pat her back before thinking better of it.

They smoked the rest of the joint together and he rolled her a few from the bag she bought from him, but wanting to leave a bit unrolled so she would need to come back to him for help again. He knew it was selfish, but it worked. Soon Chrissy was meeting him every few weeks for his help rolling the contents of the baggies she bought from him.

Eddie POV-

 He was scrambling around his trailer looking for something clean , and was feeling incredibly nervous. He didn’t know what had come over him, but he had just gone for it and asked her out to dinner. He knew she was recently single and had been daydreaming about the day when he could have a shot at treating her the way she deserved. What shocked him even more than the request slipping from his lips, was that she had said yes! 

He pulled on his least ripped pair of jeans, wondering what kind of shirt was appropriate for a date with your middle school crush. He held up a red flannel and gave it a sniff, before sighing and tossing it in the dirty pile. All his shirts were dirty except one, his prized possession. A pristine ride the lightning Metallica shirt sat in his dresser drawer. He yanked it out and gave it a shake to release the creases from sitting folded for so long before pulling it over his head.

He checked the watch on his wrist and grabbed his metal lunch box to light a joint and ease his nerves. He had made a reservation at Enzo’s but hadn’t told her yet, wanting to surprise her with the nicest restaurant in town that he could afford on a small town drug dealer's income. He puffed on the joint, wondering what Chrissy would wear, and if she would wear perfume or have her hair up or down. He fluffed his own hair and put out the nearly finished joint, searching for his rarely used bottle of cheap cologne on his desk. 

He opened his metal lunch box once more to pull out some cash from his most recent deals and stuff it into his wallet. He knew Enzo’s was expensive but a girl like Chrissy was well worth it.

————————————————————-

Chrissy POV-

When Eddie had asked her out, it had been 2 weeks since her breakup with Jason. he had gotten so possessive it had frightened the cheerleader. He had been disgusted when he found out she was smoking, calling it the Devil's Lettuce, and he became enraged when he found out who she had acquired it from. Her mom had called her crazy for giving up a man with so much potential but she couldn’t stay with someone who scared her like that. 

She sat in her room at her wicker vanity, applying a final coat of mascara to her lashes. Her strawberry blonde hair fell in perfectly formed curls around her face. She had toyed with pulling it half up but decided to leave it down, she rarely wore it that way and she was craving a change. 

She wore a delicate house coat and matching slippers as she flipped through her closet, searching for the perfect first date dress. She skipped past the pink frilly one she had worn out to Enzo’s with Jason , the white flowy one her mother loved so much and pulled out the blue lace gunne sax her mother had said made her look chubby and homely. It had made her happy when she tried it on in the store, until her mother had come into the dressing room and torn her down.

She was actively trying to ignore the hurtful things her mother said, using the coping mechanisms from the school counselor. She slid it from the hanger and held it up to her chest, admiring her reflection in the mirror before stepping into it and struggling with the zipper. She couldn’t believe Eddie had asked her out. If it had been anyone else, so soon after a break up she would have refused but there was something so charming about the dungeon master that she couldn't help herself. Her eyes had widened and she had eagerly said yes. 

She pulled out a pair of nude Maryjanes and slipped them on, before pulling out a light brown leather purse from a shelf in her closet and setting it on her vanity. She opened it and put some cash, a powder compact and a lipstick she had already applied into its inner pocket. She reached for a small red Dior bottle by the mirror giving it a sniff before smiling and spritzing herself with its contents.

 She glanced at the alarm clock on her bed side table and smiled,she had time for one round of ice climbers before he was due to pick her up. She pulled a frilly pillow from her bed and sat on it on the carpet in front of her TV, pressing the power button on the right hand side of her NES, bobbing her head as the intro music to her favorite game played. She turned down the volume, paranoid her mother would come in and harass her again about her ‘unbecoming,boyish hobby’. 

She selected one player, tucking her curls behind her ear and preparing to start the game. She started smashing the buttons to break the barricade between the levels and start climbing upward. She got so lost in the game, tongue poking out between her lips as she focused that she almost missed her alarm on her watch going off. It was muffled, buried in her cheer bag. She sighed and pressed her power button, shutting off the game system before turning off her TV and packing them away. Her mom was insistent that her room always be pristine, appearance was everything in the Cunningham family.

 She heard her mom banging around in the kitchen and decided to sneak out her window instead of dealing with the drama of the older woman and her judgment. She bunched her nearly floor length dress up above her knees, grabbing her purse and sliding her window open. She hoisted herself up onto the windowsill and climbed out onto the ledge of the roof. She was grateful her room was right near the front porch and made for a relatively easy escape route.  She had just landed on the stone path that led through their front lawn when she heard the rumble of his van coming through the neighborhood. She smiled and gave her hair one last fluff before he came into view.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie POV

When he entered her neighborhood his immediate instinct was he did not belong here. It was all nice houses , perfectly groomed yards, and expensive cars in the driveways.  He turned down the Iron Maiden album he had been blasting on the drive, peering through the windshield at the numbers on the mailboxes to locate her house. When he came around the corner he saw her standing in the front lawn looking like a barbie doll, and his breath caught in his throat. Her strawberry blonde curls were in perfect waves and her bangs were parted in the center,framing her face. Her baby blue dress had a sweetheart neckline and buttons up to the collar. He had never seen her in anything so fancy at school and was honored she chose to wear it for him.

When he rolled to a stop at the curb she started towards him, heels clicking on the concrete of the sidewalk. He leapt from the car a little too eagerly and ran to open the passenger side door for her, his eyes wide as he continued to take her in.”You look absolutely gorgeous” He informed her as he offered her his hand and she flushed at his display of chivalry “Thank you” she said as she took it, lifting the skirt of her dress up slightly with her other hand to climb into the passenger seat. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and a spicy fruity perfume he didn’t recognize but really liked. He closed the door behind her once he was sure her dress was situated and wouldn’t get caught in the door.

Eddie climbed back into the driver seat, his ring covered hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he tried not to come on too strong. “You smell really nice.” He blurted out, so much for that. She giggled, hand raised to cover her mouth shyly. “Thanks, It’s called Poison.” she told him, tucking her hair behind her ear. He took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s nice, I like it.” She smiled up at him and raised a brow. “Am I making you nervous Eddie?” She wondered, he swallowed and nodded and her eyes somehow even wider at the idea of a tough guy like him being nervous around anyone. “I didn’t even expect you to say yes to be honest.” 

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chrissy POV

Sitting in the front seat of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munsons van wasn’t really something Chrissy had ever imagined would happen. Since their re-meeting at the picnic table she had been harboring a slight crush on the dungeon master, but never expected anything would come from it. He was so different from anyone she had ever dated, and she never saw him with a girl so she had no idea what his type even was. Her hands rested in her lap and they started to sweat as her anxiety kicked into overdrive.

Almost as if he sensed it, Eddie smiled over at her and spoke softly “I am so glad you agreed to come out with me tonight. I-I had been thinking about asking you for a while now.” she flushed at his confession and wiped her hands on her dress. “I’m so glad you asked me.” she replied shyly. “I made a reservation for us but we have some time to kill, do you want to drive around and smoke or go ahead and head that way?”  He asked, eyes on the road, reaching blindly for the joint tin he kept in his center console. “Smoking first sounds good” she replied and reached to help him open the console and locate the tin. Maybe a joint would settle her nerves and help her relax a bit more, and get properly hungry.

He lit the joint and inhaled deeply before passing it to her, she mimicked his actions, only coughing a little bit as she exhaled and passed it back to him. She let her eyes roam, following  the houses and businesses out the window as they drove past, smiling as the comfortable daze from the weed set in.  She recognized the path they were on, heading towards the typical first date spot in Hawkins. He passed the joint back to her and she took a hit, pursing her lips after exhaling out the open window. 

She spotted a dive bar and restaurant coming up on the right. She had always wanted to go, it looked like something out of a movie. “What if we went there, instead?” she suggested wistfully.  Jason had always turned her down when she suggested it, saying it looked seedy. Eddie's eyebrows had disappeared into his fringe , fumbling and nearly dropping the joint. “Are you sure? I - I made a reservation at Enzos…but if this is where you want to go, that’s fine with me.” She nodded eagerly and he shrugged. “You are not what I expected, Princess Cunningham” he teased and turned the wheel to steer the van into the parking lot of the rather seedy looking establishment she requested. 

He had cut the engine and scurried to open the passenger door, offering her a ring clad hand and trying not to stare at her as she climbed out his van looking like Cinderella. She slid her purse over her shoulder and gripped his hand tightly until her heels hit the concrete. He let go reluctantly, hurrying ahead to open the door to the bar for her.

They sat at the bar, Eddie handed her a menu and ordered two beers from a bartender who recognized him. He ordered a beer and glanced over at her, not sure what she might like. She panicked and ordered a beer too which got her a raised brow from the old man behind the bar. “What year were you born sweetheart?” he asked, and she panicked. Math was not her best subject. She was born in 68, but if she wanted to be served she needed to say 67. When she opened her mouth it was like her brain short circuited. “69”. The bartender chuckled and said “I can get you a coca-cola kiddo.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie POV

Eddie laughed and let his ring clad hand fall onto her shoulder, offering it a reassuring squeeze. “My band does shows here, I can get you a beer if you want.”  but she shook her head.  “I was just ordering it to look cool,  I don’t even know if I would like it.” she said sheepishly, her cheeks flushing at the admittance. He looked shocked. “ You’ve never had a beer? Don’t cheerleaders and jocks go to house parties and get wasted all the time?” he wondered, and she shrugged. 

Their drinks arrived and Chrissy tried to hide her flush as the bartender took the lids off their respective beer and sodas. She took her coke and took a hearty sip, offering the bartender a genuine thank you. The old man smiled and hurried to take care of the regulars down the bar, leaving them to their drinks.

He looked at her expectantly, and she hurried to answer his question“Maybe, but I don’t. My mom is kinda obsessed with appearance so I go to the public events to look like I'm a part of things, but I don’t go to parties…it would be ‘unseemly’” she said the last word with a little bit of venom and it surprised him. “Wanna try mine?” he asked, offering his beer to her cautiously. 

She pursed her lips and considered it for a moment before nodding and taking it from his outstretched hands. “Why not?” she muttered as she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a tentative swig. She handed him back the bottle and swished the amber liquid around in her mouth before swallowing it and making a face. “I think I’ll stick with my Coke.” She grabbed her own drink and took a sip to get rid of the taste. He laughed and took a sip, savoring it.”Might be an acquired taste.” he offered with a shrug. “Do you know what you want to eat? They actually have decent food here, burgers and seafood even.” she raised her brows at that, and glanced over the menu.

He decided on shrimp, and she did the same. They made small talk about upcoming graduation and their plans after school. She confessed her plans for college, wanting to go to Purdue University to become a teacher. She seemed excited at the chance to be out of her mothers grasp. When their food arrived they dug in happily, Chrissy was so excited to try something new, she got distracted taking in the pile of shrimp on her plate she forgot to watch how Eddie ate them. she glanced over and saw him dipping it in the sauce and popping it into his mouth. She mimicked his actions and ate a handful, enjoying the taste but not the crunch. When they were full Eddie glanced over at her plate and furrowed his brows.”What are you doing with your tails?” he asked curiously and Chrissy turned beet red. 

“Oh my god you ate them.” he was shocked and couldn't help but laugh. Chrissy covered her face and tried to hide how bright her cheeks had become. “Oh honey, it’s okay. I didn’t know you didn’t know, I only got them because they were the nicest thing on the menu and I figured a fancy food for a fancy girl. Next time I’ll teach you how to peel them.” he promised and reached to pull her hands from her face.”This is mortifying, what is going to happen to me? Am I going to throw up?” she mumbled, refusing to look at him “It’s alright, you aren’t going to die or anything, you just might get a stomach ache later.” he brushed his thumb across her cheek before dropping his hand to his lap awkwardly. 

The check arrived moments later and he snatched it up before she could look at it, pulling on the chain connected to his wallet to retrieve his cash. She smiled as he hopped off his bar stool and offered her his hand. “M’lady, your chariot awaits.” He teased, gesturing to the parking lot. She laughed and took his hand,  slipping from the barstool and following his lead. For the first time that evening he didn’t let go of her hand right away. They walked to the door hand in hand, he only released his grip on her to open the door for her.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘

Chrissy POV

She led the way to his van, and he followed dutifully, only rushing ahead as they arrived to unlock the doors and open hers for her. He started the engine and moments later they were out on the road again. “D’ya wanna smoke a bit more, or should I take you home?’ he asked, ever the gentleman.  She pursed her lips as she thought. “What if we made one more stop? There's one more place I’ve always wanted to go.” she confessed, wanting to spend more time with him, and avoid having to go back to her mother for as long as possible.

“We can go wherever you want” Eddie agreed heartily, maybe a little too quickly but she didn’t mind. His enthusiasm was welcome, especially when she was so used to Jason's indifference or her mothers judgment. She loved that she didn’t feel any of that with him. She felt so comfortable, like she could really be herself with him. That's why she felt comfortable making the suggestion she did. “What about the Arcade?” 

 Eddie's eyes widened, he had not pegged her for a gamer, but she was full of surprises. He should be used to it by now. “I didn’t know you liked that kind of thing.” he started, making a U turn so they could head in the direction of Hawkins one and only arcade, the Palace.

“I play a lot of games at home, and at the movie theater but none of my friends know about it. They aren’t into that kind of thing so I never bothered trying to invite them. I haven’t actually ever been, I’ve just always wanted to go.” It was her turn to ramble now and he was smiling at her as they pulled into the strip mall parking lot that held the arcade, video store and a few other assorted businesses. 

He killed the engine and jumped out, quick to open her door and offer his hand as always. “What game should you show me up at first?” he joked as he opened the door to the neon lit room filled with arcade and pinball machines. “Ooh I love Ghosts and Goblins!” her face lit up as they walked around in search of the black arcade machine with the wild marquee. 

She spotted it first and hurried towards it, grateful it was unoccupied. Eddie followed behind, watching as her curls bounced as she bounced over and she excitedly retrieved a quarter from her change purse. As she queued up the game she was so excited to play, she didn’t even notice the way the dungeon master was watching her with stars in his eyes. 

They moved from cabinet to cabinet, taking turns paying and bouncing between 2 player games and taking turns at 1 player games. She was excellent at Galaga, Qbert, and Mrs Pacman. It was around 10 pm when he finally checked his watch. “Oh shit, I think I was supposed to have you home half an hour ago, I am so sorry.” he apologized. She shrugged, depositing her change purse into her bag as they started the walk back to his van “That’s okay, my mom doesn’t even know I’m gone.” she confessed. When his face fell she hurried to add. “Not because I didn’t want to be seen with you, I don’t care about that. It’s just that she’s just been really mean lately and I didn’t want to hear about how fat she thinks I look in this dress.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie POV

Eddie's eyes widened as she confided in him about her mother and her treatment, his face fell. “You know you look beautiful in that dress, don’t you?” he asked, as he opened the passenger door for her. She smiled , a blush creeping across her cheek for what felt like the millionth time that night. “Thank you, Eddie.” she said softly as he joined her back in the van and started of on the road towards her neighborhood.

The drive home was short, as most were in the small town of Hawkins and Eddie found himself almost wishing they had walked so he could really savor the time with her. About halfway through the short drive she surprised him again she reached over to take his hand that sat awkwardly on the center console. He fought the urge to stare at their joined hands incredulously, but instead glanced over to offer her a charming smile. 

As they pulled up to her house, she sighed and reluctantly released her grasp on him. He turned off the engine and quickly made his way to the passenger door to help her out. He offered to walk her to the door but she refused, insisting her mother would be too horrible to him for her to bear. He shrugged and shuffled his feet awkwardly, kicking at the curb. Before he could process it, she had stood up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and turned to run towards her house to avoid seeing his reaction. He stood there, holding his cheek in shock, watching as she let herself into her front door, only turning to glance back to offer him a brief wave before hurrying inside to face the wrath of her mother.

[qualifiedcutie]

Hehehe hiiii sky :3c!!!! 2, 4 and 16 for the stoner ask thing hehehe >:3c!!!! 🐾

Hiii Bear!!!! 2. What's your favorite way to consume? I love smoking weed because it feels nice (even though I cough sometimes lol), and it kicks in more quickly and lasts somewhat shorter than edibles so when I smoke I have a better level of control over how stoned I'm getting. 4. Favorite munchies foods? Sour gummy worms are really really nice!!! :3 16. Favorite things to do while high? My favourite thing to do is imagining myself as other things/people/creatures. Good weed makes my imagination very powerful so I can get really close to feeling like something else and/or being in another world. For example imagining myself as an animal in a magical forest, or as a videogame character, or just as some other dude I made up, or as a wooden bird that can fly, etc. etc. Recently when I was doing weed on my own, I imagined myself as a horny anime catboy lmaooo

[thewingedwolf]

<long and rambling, I’m gonna add a cut when I get on a desktop next bc I don’t think I can do it on mobile>

Went to a pride party, absolutely fucking crashed and burned several times at socialization and I apologized to my friend for being Terrible At Parties and my friend goes “you really ARE bad at talking I can’t believe I never noticed it! That feels like this one is on me!” And honestly I think that was the first time anyone has ever taken responsibility for my anxiety and for some reason I do not understand at ALL it made me feel REALLY good about myself ya kno like it was the equivalent of taking your friend who you know damn well hates shellfish to a crab shack and not understand why they’re annoyed as they pick at their shitty ass salad. Like yeah man my anxiety is YOUR problem bro not mine.

Uh anyways so all that anxiety + anxiety from the event we had today - which went really well!!! I’m actually really happy with how it went! We put a lot of hard work into it and it really paid off! - and also generally my anxiety has been awful lately + the amount of pot I consumed at that party bro if I would have realized they were gonna be that free and loose with the weed I would have brought an ice pack, propped my leg up on a chair, and started smoking the moment I came in so I could have lasted longer!!!! = I have been like uh ~talking with a dude and I’m being very careful because Im actually Very careful on the internet, sometimes in weird ways, and I know there are ways I could be safer for sure, but I also think that while my anxiety has hindered my ability to date in a lot of ways, once or twice it has helped me realize that there was a red flag I missed not too far away and then I bailed and it was the RIGHT decision. This guy wasn’t talking down to me, we were sort of disagreeing about serious stuff so it was tense but we weren’t arguing, just discussing and finding we had different world views on something. And then I made a joke about how I just wanted them to raise the minimum wage bc my rent was expensive to lighten the mood up a bit, bc we had both been throwing jokes in every few minutes so it didn’t get too serious and then…then I looked at my phone and it said that he had deleted a chat he had sent, and then he sort of made some “this system is broken someone needs to fix it” and that’s FINE except we haven’t really discussed politics and I admit I’ve been a little mum in that regard bc he’s bisexual and we sort of really quickly bonded over the weirdness of being raised technically in yiur culture but unable to speak the language and that was interesting but also doesn’t mean anything like maybe he meant it in a commie sort of way since he’s told me he’s been really affected by COVID so maybe he, like a lot of people, found himself feeling more and more than this system is inherently broken beyond repair. Or MAYBE he meant it in a “you know I really think trump was onto something” sort of way and I’ve been staring at these messages wondering what the fuck they mean but let me reiterate, I have not looked at these messages ONCE without being bogged down with anxiety or high as a kite! He might not have been making an Anakin skywalker style “maybe dictators are good actually” type comment, you might, in fact, just have spent the last 20 hours in a bungled mess of anxiety and weed and pain.

Um anyways this program went really well and I think I’m gonna stay on to do it next year because I had sort of a good time, it reminded me why I like working in a library, but also, I’m so glad it’s over bc it was so much effort and I’m so anxious and tired all the time akskdkjd I don’t do anything but sleep and watch the same three episodes of a show bc I keep falling asleep, and then texting this dude at 4 am when I wake up bc I can’t sleep thru the night bc he keeps the WEIRDEST hours so I know he’ll be up and like ~flirting until I fall back asleep. That’s it. That’s been most of my life bc of this program the last few weeks. It’s not bad, but bro I would LOVE a CHANGE

In other news a pretty (straight) girl hugged me at work and I almost cried its been such a great pride already 🥲🥲🥲

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e19 the chitters (w. nancy won)

what on earth kind of story requires this setup of sam and dean-esque parallel kids that also involves one of the kids being gay and some goofy fucking monster

SAM So … so we get back out there. We get back to work. We keep moving. We keep working. We’ll catch a break on Cas. We have to. It’s … it’s karma. DEAN You know, karma’s been kicking us in the teeth lately.

LOL lately. yes, new phenomenon

dean/jackles sounds sick

i gasped when she showed up lol, she's so beautiful and i know i've seen in her in something but i'm not sure what. she was in bsg (imdb), but i have almost no memory of that show honestly

SHERIFF TYSON Twenty-seven years ago. About a dozen residents went missing. Twenty-seven years before that, another eight disappeared.

sounds like tooms on the xfiles with his every 30 year liver feast

After eating foie gras during a trip to France, Carter proposed the idea that the villain should consume human livers.[6][7] Morgan noted that the writers settled on the liver because it was "funnier" than any other organ.[6]

LOLL okay

DEAN What, you’re saying it was junkless?

i just talked about the junkless metatron in dogma recently lol after remembering the crack dean made about a junkless angel early on

DEAN Green eyes, buzzing. Weed alone doesn’t conjure up that kind of scenario. [turns to Sam] Isn’t that right, Sam? SAM Dude, I was eighteen. DEAN Sinner. SAM It was college. It was probably oregano anyways. DEAN Rebel. SAM You’re an idiot.

glad dean enjoyed teasing sam about it. and i'm sure dean has partaken in pot more than once :p

cosigning this glare at dean

ah, the hunter origin story being the reason for the weird show open. why didn't i think of that! pretty sure i've seen this conversation with them that's about to happen, in a gifset. roll the dice on whether i will think it's cute or get annoyed at the wincest bait*

DEAN Ah, you guys fight just like brothers, almost as bad as us. CESAR Well, it’s more like an old married couple. DEAN That’s … Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] CESAR Yeah.

okay yeah embarrassing dean, you know it's bad when i tear off my headphones and yell stop at the computer :p deep breaths. i can do this.

DEAN What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? CESAR Smelly, dirty. Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

sort of saved it but jackles still played it awkward, made the weird face saying that line. sometimes he's completely smooth about accepting the info that someone is queer, and other times he does this. or worse yet, this thing with the cupid match being two guys where they focus on him being stunned for *10 seconds*. mild disgruntlement.

also maybe part of the point is he's asking what it's like being settled down with a hunter, when he's already settled down with a hunter. aside from fucking sam, i'm not sure how much more "settled" he can be. not to mention twice the worry about getting ganked, he just briefly killed himself in 11x17 trying to get sam back from being actually-not-dead.

anyway. cesar has a lovely voice and accent (and i appreciate the pronunciation of his name not being anglicized)

CESAR Yeah, it’ll eat him alive if we don’t. DEAN It’s hard to watch someone go through that, isn’t it? CESAR Yeah, I never had a brother or a sister, but I’ve seen it over and over, when someone loses someone when they’re young. It never heals over. DEAN No, it doesn’t. CESAR And the insane thing is, how many hunters have you seen over the years get their revenge? DEAN A few. CESAR Yeah. Me too. And they are never fixed, are they? DEAN No, I guess not. But, you gotta help him get that revenge anyway.

not me being reminded of how many years sam had to live without dean in the end. le sigh. but also the winchesters are constantly playing revenge whackamole

JESSE I never got over what I lost that day, the one person in the whole world I loved the most.

cut to meaningful look on sam. in case we forgot, how his brother is the person he loves most.

them going into this mine i'm like, haven't they done this before? wait didn't one of them break a leg in a mine?? or wait was that a fic i read :P

well, jesse finding the remains of his brother and the coin got me to cry a bit, good job guys. which also set the emotional tone for me to get even more weepy over the next conversation

SAM You know, whenever you and Dad used to leave me to go hunting, and I-and I wouldn’t hear from y’all for a while, I, um, I was always sure that some vamp or rugaru, or take your pick, I always figured one of them finally got ya. I tried to think what to do, you know, the next step to take. I was just lost. DEAN We came back, though, every time.

the terror and loneliness of sam being left alone as a kid alone in whatever passed as home for the moment, out of contact. guh

SAM So, uh, what’s freedom look like? JESSE Nice little spread in New Mexico. We’ve been paying on it for years. Set foot on it about … twice? CESAR Gonna raise horses. And if that goes bust, Jesse used to be an EMT. JESSE Oh, so now I’m supporting your ass? CESAR It’s time to start living.

then cut to sam and dean in the car. on their neverending hunt. are they living.

SAM Couldn’t do it, huh? DEAN No, didn’t feel right. SAM Yeah. I know what you mean. Two hunters who make it to the finish line? DEAN Yeah, you leave that alone.

we know not everyone one in this car makes it to the finish line. i mean who's to say but 42 is too soon.

*sometimes i'm just like WHY DO THEY DO THIS. early on like in playthings (mini rant and clip there) when sam was pawing at dean looking like he's one step from trying to kiss him, i got pissy because it's like why are you setting this up when it will not ever ever EVER go anywhere. but then they just kind of stuck with the theme quietly, and said the quiet part out loud in sex and violence. which just made my brain go ????

i think ultimately i like when they make grand gestures and are generally just. their canonical extra weird about each other selves, and i'll take any little moments of intimacy and vulnerability i can get. having a joke setup that points out their dynamic is more like a married couple than brothers, sometimes that can land weird for me and i feel disgruntled about them (the writers) playing along with the bit. i also don't feel great and mood is also not great so i might be a little extra cynical/negative at the moment. charlie said they fight like an old married couple but it was cute and fit the moment. and bobby did too in tall tales (which hit all my awkward humor buttons in the most unpleasant ways) and it was kind of playing into the bit of them being extra crabby at each other.