#Eating to Alleviate Back Pain

[inshapenews]

Easing Back Pain Fast and Effectively

Is your back sore? Let's explore ways for you to alleviate that pain right now : )

Lower back pain is a common ailment that can significantly impact daily life. It is the leading cause of absenteeism from work, affecting up to 80% of adults at some point in their lives. The back muscles and spine play a crucial role in supporting the body’s weight and facilitating movement. Therefore, they are always on the go, making them prone to inflammation and injury. While…

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#Back Pain Relief #Back Pain Treatment #Better Back #Easing Back Pain #Eating to Alleviate Back Pain #Exercises For Back Pain #Health and Fitness #In Shape News #Tricia Leanne Snell #Yoga for Back Pain

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Earth 703

Miguel O'Hara x f!Reader

Summary: You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? (Sex pollen. Except it's you this time.)

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: language, smut, p in v, oral (male receiving), cum eating, some soft Miguel, maybe ooc. Not beta-read. Forgive the mistakes.

Part 2 of the sex pollen ask, by popular demand. Can be read as a stand alone but the lore stems from that ask. Hope ya'll like it.

...

Drowning. It felt like drowning.

The air suddenly felt thick as you fought to remain calm. The sensation of pins and needles ravaged the surface of your skin under your digital suit (designed by Miguel himself, as promised), running down your arms and abdomen until a burning heat settled between your legs.

Sweat began to bead along your brow, and you bit your lip to control your accelerating heartbeat. 

Shit. You fucked up. Badly.

You should’ve known better. You thought you did. Hadn’t you learned from the first time it happened to Miguel? 

You’d recognized the daisies immediately—remembered the giant stems and the bright white petals, how it made Miguel greedy and depraved. 

The New York jungle of Earth 703 was just as dense as the last time you’d visited. It was a second mission in search of the anomaly, and you’d decided to complete it independently. That’d been a mistake. And not telling Miguel about it was an even bigger mistake, but unfortunately, you hadn’t put much thought into that last part. You wanted this mission done and over with.

But mostly, you wanted to prove you could do it yourself. 

Miguel would be furious if he knew the predicament you were in. But there was no need for him to find out, right?

The Prowler had a strength that you’d underestimated, easily tossing you into the mass of pollinated daisies before darting off, glitching with an array of colors as he ran away.

You’d been knocked out, waking up covered in pollinated dust like a pastry dusted in powdered sugar. You’d sneezed a couple of times before stumbling out of the daisy patch disoriented before finding the nearest tree and leaning against it, dusting yourself off.

And that is where you found yourself now, sprawled out with your back against the tree and your legs spread wide, your cunt burning with a need to be filled.

Okokokokok. This was fine. You could manage. If you just sat there patiently, the effects would wear off and you could go back to HQ without anyone noticing you were gone. However, that was easier said than done.

You fought the desire to touch yourself. 

You knew that if you did you’d be in trouble, and no one would be able to help. But you were weak of mind, slowly trailing your hand down your abdomen to lightly press your fingers over your throbbing cunt. You groaned, thumping your head back harshly against the tree.

It felt good but it did nothing to ease the growing sensation. You tapped your cunt again, the arousal running through you immediately. You were panting now, letting your mask fall so that you could breathe better.

The burning increased and you squeezed your eyes shut in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. You pushed your sweat-slicked hair away from your face with both hands, pausing for a moment to help yourself get a grip.

You felt so incredibly empty. You couldn’t tell for sure but you just knew your core was dripping wet, waiting to be filled by someone’s cock.

You didn’t want to think about that someone just yet, knowing that if you conjured up his image (and his cock) in your mind's eye, you’d be a salivating, mewling mess.

Again, you tried to alleviate the discomfort, this time pressing the heel of your palm over your core. You mewled in response, resisting the urge to cry out in pain and frustration.

It was beginning to hurt, the burning flaring into an intense heat, and you swore you could feel it running down your legs, making your toes curl uncomfortably. Your vision blurred as your eyes tried to make sense of your surroundings. 

Suddenly your watch went off, and when you struggled to raise your arm to answer the call, an image of Miguel appeared. 

“Where are you?” He demanded, “Why’d you turn off your location? I’ve been looking everywhere for you at HQ.” You wanted to respond, you really did, but when you tried to speak the only sound that slipped out was a pained gasp, followed by a sob as you pressed your free hand over your suit-covered pussy. 

“Are you—are you crying?” 

Were you? You hadn't realized, couldn’t feel the fat tears rolling down your numb cheeks and past your chin. You could hear the subtle panic in his voice, his image seemingly appearing closer as he pulled his watch toward his face to inspect you. 

You did nothing but whimper in response, choking on humid air.

“Baby, listen to me,” Miguel reasoned, his tone measured and confident but not free of worry, “Are you safe?” 

“T-think s-so,” you managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain running through you. You groaned, your head dropping forward as your muscles tensed. 

“Can you tell me where are you?”

“E-earth s-seven—” Miguel cut you off with a great sigh, his pixelated form running a hand down his face. 

“Stay right there. I’m coming to get you.”

You didn’t need to finish. He knew exactly where to find you.

…

At least the new suit came in handy.

When you couldn’t wait for Miguel any longer you deactivated your suit, leaving yourself stark naked in the middle of the jungle. 

Normally, you’d be completely mortified, but the throbbing in your cunt overpowered the embarrassment. You simply didn’t care, not when you were desperate for physical touch, desperate to be filled to the brim.

You’re assumption had been correct—you were absolutely soaked. You sighed as you allowed your fingers to swirl through your folds, your creamy juices clinging to your skin as you pulled out to inspect them.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, finally plunging your fingers into your needy little hole, pumping in and out at a steady pace. Your bare chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you let your other hand skim up and tweak at one of your sensitive nipples.

You bit your lip, breathing in harshly through your nose. It was good but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t what your pussy craved.

You continued to thrust your fingers inside, holding on to whatever semblance of relief you could get.

A portal appeared in the middle of you working yourself open, Miguel stepping through. Your eyes reflected the bright yellow glow of the portal until it disappeared behind him.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he did so often when facing a predicament.  

“Baby…” he began, squatting in front of you, his red eyes observing your nakedness, your tear-stained cheeks and red lips, swollen from worrying them. You hadn’t stopped for even a moment, mewling as your fingers worked your messy pussy. You were so incredibly wet, the squelching loud enough for you both to hear.

He wrapped a large hand around your wrist in an attempt to stop you, but you hissed, pushing him away with a weak kick before continuing to stuff yourself. 

“Stop,” he said, grabbing your feverish face in his hands, “activate your suit. I’m taking you home.” 

“Don’t wanna move,” you cried, more tears rolling down your cheeks, “it hurts.” 

“I know, baby, I know, let me take you home.” He was barely successful in removing your hand from your sopping cunt, your fingers pruned with how wet you were. He fought to ignore the strong scent of your arousal and the way your slit glistened. 

Miguel held your body close, feeling how your limbs trembled. He stroked your hair to soothe you, running a hand up and down your back in comfort. His cock began to swell when you rutted against him, pushing him down so that he was flat against the ground. 

“Coño, wait—” 

You ignored his protests, grinding your cunt against him in deliciously slow circles, mewling all the while. Your mind felt hazy, the arousal so powerful that you couldn’t think properly, too overwhelmed by the immense pleasure of your cunt rubbing over Miguel's bulge. 

“Miguel,” you whined, your hands firmly planted on his chest as you moved skillfully over him, “I need you, please, just—just put it in real quick, I’ll be good, I swear, I just need your fat—”

“Shh,” Miguel, placed his finger over your mouth to silence you, his chest heaving as he watched you move above him, “I’ll give you what you want, yes? Then I’m taking you home.”

“Yesyesyesyes, whatever you want, please—” In a matter of seconds you were able to feel Miguel’s bare skin under your fingertips, his large cock springing to life, bobbing angrily against his stomach. Your eyes sparkled at the sight. 

You shuffled down clumsily, gripping his cock and quickly spitting on it to lubricate it. It was hot and heavy in your hands, and your mouth watered, desperate for a taste. You wasted no time in devouring him, lapping at the sides and swirling around the fat head, his precome already coating your tongue. 

“Damn,” he groaned, his head propped up so he could get a proper view of you. He licked his lips, watching you suck his cock as if you’d never have the chance to taste him again. 

His fingers weaved into your hair, careful not to tug on the strands too hard. You set a vicious pace, moaning around his shaft as spit dribbled past the corners of your lips and down your chin. His cock twitched in your hands when you began to jerk him, a sure sign that he was close, “You’re gonna make me come.” 

You hummed in response, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth and gagging when he hit the back of your throat. 

“S-shit—” Miguel slammed your head down into his pelvis, his hips lifting slightly away from the ground as he came down your throat, his large load making you sputter over his cock. “Fuck.”

He was a panting mess, his eyes lidded as he watched you lap up the come that slipped past your mouth and onto his dick, making sure to clean him thoroughly. 

Before he could get a word out you straddled his lap, taking his hardening cock in hand and lining it up with your needy hole. 

You looked up at him for a second, searching his eyes for protest.

“Take what you need from me, hermosa.” He panted, his hands running up your thighs until they settled on your hips. “Ride me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

You cried out when you slammed down on his cock, the stretch of him intense but nothing you weren’t used to. Your greedy hole swallowed him, coating his shaft with your creamy juices as you began to ride him. 

You came within minutes, your body quivering and your cunt squeezing him tightly, gushing all over him. He was moaning beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm before he choked, filling your womb with thick ropes of white. 

Miguel lifted you up by the waist, your pussy fighting to hold onto him as his cock flopped out, his spend and yours dripping down your thighs and over his hips and abdomen. 

“M-Miguel,” you whined, your fingers searching between your legs to scoop up some of the mess, quickly shoving your digits in your mouth for a taste. You moaned around your fingers, your eyes fluttering at the taste of him mixed with your tanginess, creating a devilish mixture that had you craving more.

“Shit, baby,” Miguel groaned, his eyes trained on your mouth as you sucked on your fingers, searching for every last taste of him, “you okay?”

“I-I need more, I need you,” your core began to burn again after being left empty for only a few moments, “i-it still hurts.” You rubbed your soaked core over his cock, making it hard again. “Let me ride you again.” 

Miguel’s brow twitched, and with a grunt he sat up, holding you flush against his skin. He placed a kiss over your sweaty brow, pressing his nose in your hair to inhale the earthy scent.

“Let me take you home, preciosa. Please.” 

“I need you now.” Tears began to blur your vision once again as you looked up at him. His expression was one of concern as he held you close, his lips set in a tight line. You were never this whiny with him, ever. “It hurts.”

“I know it does, baby, I know. I’ll make it better, I promise, just let me take you home.” 

You allowed him to fiddle with your watch, pressing a few buttons to activate your suit before he activated his own. You were clawing at his shoulders as he lifted you in his arms, your nails hardly breaking the barrier of his suit but still sharp enough to cause discomfort.

He ignored it, summoning a portal as you shook in his arms, and took you home.

…

He came down your throat for a second time.

You’d been so eager to take his cock in your mouth again as soon as he brought you to his apartment, sucking him off until he felt he had nothing more left to give you. 

And for the second time, you rode him, bouncing over him with a vigor he didn’t know you had, making him come deep within your walls. Your pussy was a drooling, sticky mess, unsatiated with the number of times Miguel filled you. 

You shuddered as another orgasm ripped through you. Your thighs ached and trembled as you pulled away, covering his skin in his spend. 

It still wasn’t enough. 

Miguel lay motionless on his bed, his hair a matted, sweaty mess, his body spent from the number of orgasms you took from him. His hands fell from your waist when you shifted away, his tired gaze regarding the wild look in your eyes.

“Amor, please,” he hissed, his eyes screwing shut as you took his cock in your small hand, slapping it over your mound to awaken him for another round, “s’too much. You gotta let me—fuck.” You spit on his shaft, pumping him a few times and bringing him back to life. 

“I need you, Miguel, need your cock,” you whispered, feeling him twitch delightfully in your hand before lining him up over your ravenous cunt, and sinking down.

Miguel choked, his claws sinking into his sheets and causing tears in the delicate fabric. He brought his legs up, bending them at the knees, hoping to slow down your movements but you couldn’t be contained, riding him for all he was worth. 

You caught a glimpse of his fangs protruding past his lower lip, and that was enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm, clamping down on him and causing him to cry out as he filled you (again) to the brim.  

When you replicated the same steps from before—pulling out and allowing him a second before attempting to stuff him back in you— Miguel stopped you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“No more,” he begged. You’d never heard him beg before. It sounded so pretty with the tiniest hint of vulnerability that had your cunt aching for more. 

“I-It’s okay,” you panted, leaning down to kiss him, “one more, okay? One more.” 

You carefully sat on his large cock again, sinking down carefully.

And whenever he hissed and groaned, you ignored it.

…

When you woke up you were in the bath. 

The warm water smelled of lavender and jasmine, caressing your skin pleasantly.

Miguel loomed above you, hair wet and a white t-shirt clinging to his moist skin. He lathered a bath sponge in soap before lifting your arm, gently scrubbing your skin.

You blinked the sleep from your tired eyes, gazing up at him. He looked beautiful. His lips were pursed in concentration as he focused on each individual finger, making sure to scrub the grime from under your fingernails.

“Miguel?” You called to him quietly, your fingers twitching in his hand. His red eyes shifted to your face, the concerned look from earlier still plastered over his features. “Are you mad at me?” 

Miguel grunted, dropping your hand to dip the sponge in the water before taking up your other hand.

“My girlfriend’s an idiot,” he muttered, scrubbing away at your fingers. You frowned, sinking deeper into the water until your mouth was barely above the surface. Your body ached but your pussy ached more. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered sadly, “I thought I could handle it on my own.” Miguel heaved a sigh, urging you to sit up so that he could scrub your back.

“I know, baby,” he answered softly, “but I don’t want you doing that again, ¿me escuchas? You need to communicate with me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your head hanging low in defeat. You didn’t know how much you’d slept, but you were still exhausted, your eyes heavy with the threat of sleep. 

Miguel grunted in response, before placing a kiss to your brow—his silent way of forgiving you.

“I told you to stay away from the daisies the last time we were there.”

“It was an accident.”

Another grunt from Miguel. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked, brushing a wet finger over the bulge on his briefs. He hissed, slapping your hand away.

“Off limits.” He snapped.

“Are you serious?” 

“Yes. I can’t count how many times you made me cum.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” 

“Cállate.” 

You giggled, carefully reaching up to place a kiss over his pouting lips. 

“Love you too, Miguel.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv #spiderman 2099

[de4dlyniightshade]

munch! spencer, reader with migraine, spencer reads something about how orgasms can help with pain

꩜ warning!: this post is +18!!! mdni!

꩜ word count: 1.6k (got a little carried away;-;)

꩜ A/N: honestly i don't rlly like this but hopefully it's good enough :,)

You let out a quiet groan in pain as you squinted your eyes at the tv, trying to watch your favourite show but the light from the screen only made your throbbing headache worse, to the point it was almost unbearable.

"Another migraine?" Spencer asked quietly from the other end of the sofa as he looked up from his book, keeping his voice low so as to not make it any worse. You just nodded, holding your head in your hand and letting your eyes close, feeling slight relief from the light no longer beaming into your eyes.

You didn't get migraines all that often but when you did they could be pretty bad and Spencer hated seeing you in pain and hated the fact that there was nothing he could do to fix it even more, or so he thought. He'd spent hours researching ways to alleviate your pain after your last migraine, which got so bad that it practically debilitated you and you couldn't do anything but sit in a darkened room for hours until it passed.

After reading countless articles and blogs a unanimous opinion was that an orgasm relieves a large amount of the pain, one woman going as far to say that hers was completely gone afterwards. Honestly the remedy was a complete win-win, he'd be able to help you and make you feel better and he'd also get to do his absolute favourite thing at the same time, which just so happened to be eating you out.

"Do you want me to help?" Spencer suggested, laying his book down on your coffee table and turning to face you, a slightly excited feeling bubbling in his chest.

"Remember nothing worked last time, Spence" you murmured, sighing at the realisation that you'd probably end up back in your bedroom, cocooned under blankets for your unforeseeable future. You felt Spencer shift closer to you and you could practically feel the excitement radiating from him, knowing that meant he'd found some scientific way to help you and wanted to try it.

"I researched a lot about migraines and how to help you since the last one and the method that came up almost every time was that a sexual release would alleviate a large amount of the pain and i was thinking maybe..." he didn't even have to finish his sentence for you to know what he was thinking, as soon as he uttered the word "sexual" you knew what he had in mind.

"You seriously think it'll work?" Your tone was hopeful and you were prepared to try anything at this point, feeling your pain slowly worsen the more time went on. you'd tried almost every other remedy you'd been suggested by friends and nothing had worked even a little and painkillers did nothing for you no matter how many you took.

"It's worth a try," Spencer smiled, resting his hand on your lower back. you knew he wasn't just doing this for himself, it was just convenient that he loved nothing more than to be buried between your legs.

"Alright, but if this doesn't work I'm not gonna be happy" you were only half serious, you were happy to let Spencer run his little experiment, considering that if it did work, you'd both not have a migraine anymore and would have had an incredible orgasm, so either way, you got something out of the experience.

You watched as Spencer moved to turn off the TV, leaving just a lamp on so that it was light enough that he could still see but dark enough that it wouldn't hurt your head so much.

You quickly hooked your fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pants, lifting your hips to tug them down over your ass and slide them down your legs, kicking them to the side to deal with later as Spencer moved to eagerly kneel in front of you, placing his hands behind your knees and leaning down to press a chaste kiss just above your left knee.

You smiled as you slowly spread your legs apart, watching Spencer's eyes glint with anticipation. You already knew the drill—moving to place your legs over his shoulders the way he liked it and shifting forward on the sofa to give him better access.

Spencer didn't waste any time with teasing, reminding himself that this wasn't for him, no matter how much he enjoyed it; this was an attempt to alleviate your pain.

You let out a sigh as you felt his warm tongue lick a bold stripe up your folds before he circled your clit, moaning quietly at your taste that he'd grown to love so much.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as he buried his face deeper into you, urging your thighs apart to lap at your pussy, your quiet whines and moans egging him on as he took your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking at your sensitive nub, the stimulation making you twitch and grip his hair tighter, rolling your hips into his face as you let your head fall back against the couch.

Spencer wrapped his hands around your thighs as he nuzzled his face into you, making sure to get as close as possible to you so that he could dip his tongue into your entrance. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue pushing into you causing you to arch your back, a loud gasp falling from your lips, your migraine long forgotten.

"F-fuck spence," you whined as you tugged on his hair desperately, letting yourself grind into his mouth. Spencer continued his ministrations on your sensitive cunt, drinking in everything you had to give him with pleasure as he whined into your wantonly.

You felt Spencer push one of your legs to the side, and instantly you got the message, lifting your leg to sling it over the arm of the couch to give him access. You couldn't help but gasp when you felt his middle and index fingers prod at your entrance, teasing your hole briefly before he began slowly sliding them in. The copious amount of saliva and your arousal making it easy.

"Oh, f-fuck!" you moaned out as you felt his fingertips curl right into your g-spot, the mixture of his mouth on your clit and his fingers pressing right into that spot that made your toes curl, making your mind go completely blank as you whimpered and moaned, his name falling from your lips in breathy gasps.

Spencer began massaging his fingers into your g-spot, drawing needy moans from your lips as he brought you closer to your release, revelling in the way you moaned his name and the way that your walls clenched around his fingers.

You got completely lost in the pleasure as you rutted your hips into his face, gripping his hair harshly and pushing his face into you. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach tighten as you squirmed and shuddered, the feeling of Spencer's fingers nonstop stimulating your sensitive spot making you a needy mess.

"C-close! 'm close, Spence." Your voice was high-pitched and whiny as you warned him, Spencer only pushing his fingers harder into you, the action pulling a loud moan from your throat as your body began to shake and tremble.

You couldn't help but sling your leg back over Spencer's shoulder, letting your thighs clench around his head as you felt your orgasm approaching. Spencer's tongue never letting up his brutal sucking and licking on your clit, sending shockwaves through your body.

Spencer began moaning and whining into you, the sounds sending vibrations through your sensitive cunt and making you cry out in pleasure as your breath came out in gasps and huffs, your whole body tending as you felt your release dangerously close.

"G-god spence, I'm gonna c-cum!" You practically wailed with no regard for how loud you were being, letting out a constant slew of desperate noises when Spencer massaged your soft spot more precisely, coaxing you to your release as he sucked harshly on your clit.

Spencer let out an especially loud moan as you tugged on his hair, the intense vibrations sending you over the edge as your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your whole body shaking and writhing as your release gushed around Spencer's fingers that continued to curl into you, coaxing you through your orgasm while he gently licked at your clit.

You were breathing heavily and still shaking slightly when Spencer slowly pulled his fingers from your sopping cunt, wincing slightly as his skin dragged against your sensitive walls. You watched as he buried his fingers in his mouth, cleaning off your release like he always did, sighing at the taste before he pulled them out and leaned back in, dipping his tongue into your slit to lap up everything he could, not daring to waste any of it.

Spencer leaned his cheek on your knee when he was satisfied, looking up at you through his lashes as you lay completely fucked out with your eyes closed, a beautifully content expression on your face.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly, watching as you cracked your eyes open and furrowed your brows, scanning around the room and sitting up slightly, a smile spreading across your lips as you looked back down at him.

"I feel...great?!" You laughed slightly, completely fascinated by the effectiveness but also relieved that you'd found something that worked, both for you and for him. Spencer couldn't hide the wide smile that adorned his lips. He was overjoyed that his method worked as he pressed gentle kisses up your leg before he situated himself beside you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and sighing.

"i'm glad" 

(dookie ass ending again ik</3 i need to work on that :,)

#📬 maeve's mailbox! #he's a munch your honour! #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid request #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #mgg fanfiction #mgg smut #mgg imagine #mgg x reader

[withleeknow]

note: i am back again with my boring smut, courtesy of the Lip Ring Devastation that occurred yesterday (do not look at me).

smut right under the cut. minors dni.

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

minho, who looks like a god, absolutely delectable with a lip ring clasped around his full bottom lip. you don't know whose idea it was to have him adorn that sinful piece of jewelry, but you'd like to thank your lucky stars that they put it on him.

minho, who's running purely on adrenaline and always reaches for you in times like these to help him release his excessive energy, and you're always eager to help (especially when he looks like sex on legs).

minho, who grabs your waist the second he enters your shared hotel room and kisses you breathlessly with the lip ring still on. in his haste, he doesn't seem to remember that it's still there, but you'd gasp at the unfamiliar sensation, a little weird at first but you'd quickly find yourself with your thighs pressed together desperately, holding him closer by the nape of his neck so you could suck on his bottom lip, tracing the dainty jewelry with your tongue.

minho, who's got your clothes - and his - off in record time and crawls between your open legs until his face is level with your core, licking his lip in anticipation only to be reminded that the ring is still cuffed on his mouth. when he goes to remove it, you'd stop him with a hand on his shoulder, clenching around nothing when the metal catches the dim light emanating from the lamp on the bedside table. "keep it on," you'd say, and he'd be a little surprised at first, but then a cocky look would find its way onto his face. he certainly has no qualms about it as long as you want it.

minho, who eats you like a man starved, licking into you just the way you like, teasing your slippery clit with the tip of his tongue while his fingers scissor in and out of you. you'd pull on his hair and grind against his face, but it's not until he languidly kisses your bundle of nerves that you keen out a particular noise that he seldom hears. the coolness of the jewelry on his lip feels heavenly in contrast with his hot mouth, makes the pleasure skyrocket throughout your entire body.

minho, who does it again just to test your reaction, and is delighted when the same sound involuntarily drawls from your lips. it turns him on so much that it's almost painful, that it makes him rut into the sheets to alleviate some of the throbbing pressure.

minho, whose smirk you can feel against you where he makes a show of pressing his lips to your cunt, sliding the ring through your folds and to your clit repeatedly, dead set on making you come as hard as he can.

minho, who wears the proudest look on his face after you've squirted all over him, and kisses you deeply afterward so you could suck on his bottom lip and taste yourself on the lip ring where it's coated in your essence.

minho, who pounds you into the mattress without mercy for hours that night, and every time he kisses you, you would clench around his length impossibly hard as you outline the ring with your tongue; who makes a mental note to take the jewelry with him before the two of you go back home.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

[pedge-page]

I really love and laugh over your Joel and Preggo. I was wondering about Joel and his mother-in-law. How does Preggo get along with her mother? Maybe mother-in-law who lives out of town comes for a quick visit ? I leave to you what the dynamics or what directions “the mother-in-law” could be!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Mother-in-Law

^some inspo photos of Pedro with friend or his family. Momma is touchy but it's nonsexual. He's just eating it up.

Warnings: angry sex turns soft, brief oral F receiving, getting caught (not sexy), favoritism war

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You remember when your parents used to hate Joel. From the moment you announced your engagement, they frowned. Why not someone who has a more stable job? Went to college? Doesn't have white in his beard already in his 30s?

But when you refused to back down, they begrudgingly put up with him. And he went above and beyond to impress them. Gifts, kind gestures, helping around their house and treating them to nice dinners. 

But oh boy, the SECOND your Facebook friends let it slip that you were expecting, your parents flipped on a dime.

Joel was now their favorite child. 

And your mom was—

“I hope she makes that famous apple pie of-hers,” Joel says, a bounce in his voice as the two of you drive to your Mom’s house for the weekend. 

Your upper lip gets caught on your teeth as you scowl at his more-than-she-deserves giddy smile. “What about my apple pie?”

“You don’t make apple pie.”

True. "Well. If I did..."

“—Then it would be the best.”

“You’re just saying that because I expect you to. You probably would hate it.”

Joel opens his mouth but hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know how you want me to respond here. We’re talking about a fictional pie you’ve never made.”

Grrr fuck this man and his logic.

He tries to alleviate the subject—maybe you wanted to give baking HIM an apple pie a go? ”She did buy me that Kitchen-aide mixer..."

You shake your head. Not this again… “No, she bought it for me!"

"It was my Christmas gift she gave me.”

"Why would she get you a NICE kitchen aide thousand dollar mixer, when you don't even BAKE??? PLUS I'm her actual DAUGHTER??"

Joel just shrugs. It pains you but you will never admit it's most likely true. Your mom bought it for HIM and you got breast pumps and a barf blanket. She used to get you the over the top nice things, and Joel would get socks. But now…

Your mom always loved you, probably a bit more than most. Sometimes it was overbearing, but that’s how she is. She’s nurturing, caring, always cooking and taking care of everyone, running a million miles a minute yet still having time to tell you everything is going to be ok after you stubbed your toe and cried about a broken nail. 

Though, she also expected to be treated like royalty by Dad. Momma knew her worth, knew her value to the family and Dad would grovel if he didn’t give her exactly what she wanted the moment she wanted it.

You’re glad that Joel doesn’t have to deal with a nagging wife who needs to tend to her ridiculous wants and emotional turmoil whenever it falls over less he be beheaded for his insolence.

You narrow your eyes at your bopping himbo Joel now, completely unaware of your thoughts as he jams to the radio. 

What a lucky guy he is.

When you pull up outside the old ranch home, Joel hops out and smells the air like it’s the Bahamas.

He helps you down from the passenger side of the truck before you both jump at the sound of your Mom screeching from the porch.

“JOOOOOEEEELLLYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”

His eyes crinkle in a warm smile as the little yet fiery woman you call Mom comes rushing towards you two like a marathon speed walker, pumping her arms at a whopping 1 mile per hour.

He opens his arms and as your mother wraps herself in his embrace. “Hey you!”

“Oooooh! Ohhh you’re so thin!” 

You raise your eyebrow. Joel’s no heavy weight champion, but he’s got a dad bod ready to rival any of the neighbors—a body that you LOVE more than anything else as it is.

Finally seeing you behind him, she shoves Joel aside and wraps you up in his warm hug. “MY BABYGIRL!!!!”

That’s right, let’s remember the pregnant one here please!

Your mom is the same height as you, but that doesn’t stop her from getting on her tip toes to kiss your forehead like she always did since the day you were born. She marvels at the size of your belly, filled with excitement and wonder and familiarity. “Oh my gosh look how much you’ve grown already, are you sure it’s not twins??? I have twins on my uncle’s side so its entirely possible—oh my gosh you’re so—“

Please don’t say fat please don’t say fat…

“SKINNY! JOEL! Have you not been feeding her????”

You snicker and throw your arm around her shoulders. “That’s what I’VE been saying. Momma, he’s been limiting snack time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. The two of you ganging up on him wasn’t in the cards just 5 seconds ago when he was sweet Joely.

 “My poor starving baby starving my baby’s baby!” she muses, forces Joel to bend at the knee for her fat wet kiss on his scruffy cheek before rubbing her kisses into your head on the other side.

“Come, come in! I’ve made—“

“Pie?” Joel pipes up, his eyes tilted eagerly towards the overly touchy woman suffocating you both.

You roll your eyes, already smelling the apple and cinnamon in the air. Of COURSE she would make his favorite pie. She runs inside to set the table.

Joel starts unpacking the truck but you cross your arms and tap your foot.

“What?”

He towers over you with a duffel slumped over his shoulder. “—Not that shit."

“I'm just saying, she’s nice to you all the sudden. It’s weird—“

“Don’t start.” He interrupts, slamming the trunk with a startling bang. Those biceps look fucking delicious rippling under his tight tight shirt— "Just want her to think I'm good for ya. Not tryin' to replace you."

You scoff him, as if anyone else could pull a man like that except you. 

But Joel can still feel that tension radiating off you, knowing you won’t truly acknowledge what’s bothering you until it blows into something ridiculous.

“Jooeellyyyy?” your mother shouts from the kitchen window.

“JoElLeY” you mimic with annoyance. “I used to be the only one with cute nicknames, ya know. You used to just be ‘J guy-my-daughter-is-dating’. And that even AFTER we got married.”

He chuckles before giving you a peck on the lips and guiding your waddling self inside. Joel doesn’t want you thinking that he would ever choose your mom over you, of course not! 

Just, for the now, being on her favorable side was something he had been working towards for years. You would just have to put up with her lipstick stains on his cheek and endless praise from his mouth of her fabulous cooking for this the weekend.

- 

Your mom zips around the kitchen, going off about the new nail salon down the road, the garden beds that can’t keep the chipmunks away, and how your old ultrasounds to compare baby sizes.

Joel watches the way she waddles. It’s EXACTLY as you do, and he starts to think maybe it’s not the pregnancy that is giving you such a signature walk. You both sit down at the table together and sigh, biting into a cookie and making a nasty face before putting it back on the tray.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Joel has to hide his smirk. You claimed so often how you were NOTHING like your mom. Your mom was pushy, demanding, filled to the brim with extra energy that would come out of no where—ironically all the things that defined you but obviously was not obvious to his wife yet. 

Maybe it’s the slight difference between you two is exactly how Joel can relate to Momma—showing love through acts service. Your mom is constantly working around the kitchen, cleaning, cooking, and it has nothing to do with expectations. He can see the little smile on her face, the skip in her step—she loves taking care of her people. She likes that you whine because only she can make your favorite coffee cake the exact way you like it. That you credit your own excellent laundry folding skills thanks to her methods that prevent wrinkles without ironing. How she always had the BEST soups for when you’re sick as if they cured like medicine itself, even if its just poured from a can—its done so with love.

There’s a unique bond between mother and daughter that Joel gets to witness. It’s not self serving either. There’s a sense of personal gratitude in being able to care for someone that makes their world worth living in.

Other times you can be a total bitch but honestly? That’s just pregnancy talk.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? Grandmother’s just know these things—“

“Mom, I called you a few weeks ago and told you it was a girl. You didn’t just guess—“

“Just as you had predicted!” Joel jumps in. “Grandmother’s intuition is a real thing, and this sweet }Cookie’s got it.” He winks towards her and sips the lovely tea she had made him.

Your mom begins to favor his conversation over yours. “And names…?” She asks expectedly.

“We’re—“

“Yours is definitely in the mix!” Joel boasts.

She clasps her hands together, not seeing the deathstare you were giving him. Momma’s name was only in the mix for MIDDLE names, not firsts. You both had agreed you wanted your baby to have her own unique first that belonged to just her. 

He ignores you for now, hoping you can see the ‘please forgive me’, in his pupils as your mom goes to hug and kiss his messy hair like a bird feeding its young in the nest.

You clear your throat, eager to get her hands off your man and back on to the one actually giving her the grandbaby. “I think it’s time we settle down in our room. Right Momma?”

“Oh, you know your way up, I wanted to show Joel some of my new kitchenware—I just couldn’t decide what to buy so I got everything, knowing you’d be by this weekend! Come on, you can pick the ones you like.”

She grasps his hand and guides him, side to side with her piddled feet, into the next room and leaving you alone.

-

The blunt edges of your chewed up nails dig into Joel’s meaty chest. there are wrinkles in your forehead from how tightly concentrated you are at riding back and forth on his cock, your belly dragging along his and hips slamming down aggressively as you ride him with the pent up fury of the day.

Joel’s got a mix of emotions: your tight pussy sucking him in, kissing your cervix with each swallow, deep and delicious in that tight heat, plus the sheer feel and sight of you so pregnant yet fucking him so furiously while he lies back and takes it all in, trying not to cum too soon—but also knowing you’re more angry than you are thinking about the sex you’re having, and you’re going to injure yourself by all this energy not driving you anywhere closer to an orgasm, and he knows  he has to works out the knot in your brain before you can let the knot in your tummy snap.

“Why are you so upset?” He asks as his head rubs up along the pillow from each bounce of your body atop him.

“M—m not—upset,” you stammer, your fingers gripping his flesh even harder and slamming yourself down on his cock like you want to hurt it.

You’re sweating, visibly aggravated and probably in pain but refuse to quit.

Maybe you need this, but as he glances down at your bulging pregnant belly that is also being shaken up like a martini, he decides that his unborn baby doesn’t need brain damage too from your furious fucking.

Joel’s hands glide up along your flexed arms until he’s cupping your cheeks gently, wiping the tear that is building along your eyelashes. You slow your pace until you’re just sitting on top, impaled on his cock and letting out an exhausted huff.

“So why are you upset?” He asks calmly.

“You’re MY husband,” you say, and though your voice is full of confidence at the statement, it quivers just a bit at the end. 

Joel knew you would be pent up. That your mom was too touchy with him, and in his good faith to keep her good favor, he leaned in and let her butter him up, gave her the attention and kisses and hugs she asked for, and now its getting to you, and you’re jealous of your own mother—

“--and I’m HER daughter. But now she’s acting like you’re her favorite child too, even though I’m the one giving the grandbaby here, I used to be her favorite kid! Just me! I used to be the one BEGGGING her to give ya a chance but now suddenly she’s also loving you, out of the fucking BLUE,  like you’re all special when IT SHOULD JUST BE ME—.”

He blinks for a second, and you squeeze your walls around him as if signaling you’ll cut it off if he dare try to act confused. 

“Wait, are you jealous… of me?” 

Your eyes drift away, just in time for Joel to have the worst fucking reaction by chuckling so hard that the two of you are rolling over to your side.

He wipes his reddened face and calms his breathing so he can talk.

“That why you’re fuckin’ me like you wanna break me?” 

Maybe you did want to make a point to anyone who might be in the house about the hierarchy over who’s got right’s to loving Joel…specifically, to make that clear TO Joel himself. 

He scootches as close as he can, despite the big baby between your middles, and rubs his nose along yours, his palm brushing your cheek and centering your focus entirely on him.

“I’d shoot myself if I had to spend more than just this weekend with your mom. She’s nice, but I couldn’t EVER stand around bein’ pinched in the cheeks like that. Always doting on my ass all day, tryin’ to service me and make me feel like a spoiled porcelain doll that needed nurturin’ like a baby 24/7. I’d feel like a useless fuck. I think she n’ I are kinda alike in that. Wantin’ to take care of what’s ours.”

You snort in the boogers pooling in your nostrils. 

“Look, It’s nice gettin’ praise, THAT you could give me more of.”

“I don’t wanna talk about my mom when you’re inside me.”

“Then lets talk about you being a momma while I’m inside you.”

“Yeah… but I liked being the only one she adored. Now I gotta share?? With you????”

You nod shyly but agree. “I do appreciate you. I’ll try better to show it.”

“Nah, don’t want you to change. N’ I need you to listen to this because I know you’re gonna leave some details out intentionally when you go tattlin’ to Maria—but being pregnant with you has been the best adventure we’ve been on so far. You keep me on my toes and keep life interesting. I like the smile on your face when I give ya something only I can give. The dance you do when you get your little cookie dough milkshake thing, and the pout you make when I tell ya no, and you get all cute on me and do some ridiculous shit that I can’t deny you anymore cuz fuck, I want you happy sooo bad, and I wanna be the one that does it. YOU make me feel special.”

He smiles, stroking the hair away from your eyes. “Think of it this way: when did she suddenly start showin’ me some special treatment? When I put a baby in your belly. That’s it. She’s happy to be getting a grand kid, and she knows I’m officially stuck with you so might as well get used to it. I’m here to stay. “Ya spent so long tryin’ to get her to like me. She does now. Job well done! You don’t have to stress anymore. No need to get all greedy, baby though I know that’s just your thing,” he teases, rubbing his knee along your thighs to part them again.

You furl your lower lip out in a childish pout. “I think the baby is making me possessive over my belongings.”

“Oh? I’m a belonging now?” He wiggles his eyes brows. Slightly more relaxed, he takes advantage and smoothes his palm down your arm, behind your waist to squeeze your ass.

He’s about to pull you in for a victory kiss when your eyes shoot open.

“Wait… am I… the useless spoiled porcelain doll that needs nurturing 24/7 that you have to dote on all day??????”

“No! No you’re not useless!”

He’s offering a sweet smile, rubbing your shoulder with encouragement as a pregnant pause fills the air.

“…you got anything else you wanna deny in that or just that one part.”

He licks his lips before flipping you on your back and sliding down between your legs.

“You know what the BEST pie is?”

T h e o n e  b e t w e e n  m y l  e g s, you mouth out into the air, your belly conveniently keeping your lips out of frame as Joel spread your pussy and blows cool air on your nub.

“S’the one between your legs,” he whispers sensually against your thigh, nipping it and growling before dragging the tip of his nose through your slit, inhaling your scent.

You smile and cover your face with both hands. He’s cheesy, but he’s a keeper. 

and maybe, just maybe, worth sharing the love with.

The love that is quickly about to be snuffed out for the both of you as your mom opens the door and begins asking "Joel did you want the red one or the blue--AH!"

Joel and you both frantically cover your lower half, his head accidetanlly bumping into your belly at the same you to strain your back trying to sit up.

"MOM, SERIOUSLY!?"

she slams the door closed but calls out through the wood: "Oh that is NOT appropriate for the baby!" before stammering away.

Joel just chuckles into your breasts. "How does she think I got the baby in you?"

You shake your head and smack him, trying to feel more ashamed then amused right now.

- - - -

More Momma in Law and Sarah

Taglist:

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

#pedro pascal smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #last of us smut #joel miller fic #tlou smut #the last of us fluff #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fluff #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller fluff #joel dealing with preggo wife

[smoochhyuka]

Hair-pulling with Anton

Beware of the sassy man apocalypse

○o。content warnings! NSFW, fem!reader, oral (reader receiving), making out, perv!Anton (he's getting his hair pulled), very subtle dom!reader, she's kinda rough with him because she is a bit clumsy, a lil bit of exhibitionism??, a lil bit of strength kink (reader gets picked up), lots of making out bc that's all I think about with Anton, established relationship, mention of partying once, edited for spelling

Knowing Anton's love language is physical touch, you make sure to spoil him a lot. He loves to lie down in your lap, while you massage and scratch his scalp. Naturally, you'd also play with his hair, braiding it, or adding clips, and sometimes you get a little carried away, yanking at it a little harder than you intended to do...

That's how he discovered this kink, the tingle of your nails scraping him, the sharp pain if you pull too hard, feeling oddly dominated while you (innocently) do to him as you please.

Since he struggles to express himself verbally, he tries to make you tug at his hair during sex. Every time he eats you out, he puts one of your hands on top of his head, but instead of gripping it tightly, you just push it down a little bit further into your pussy, bumping into is nose, just to let go off him immediately, digging your fingers into whatever item was closest instead. When fucking you in missionary, he would try the same, this time you'd pull him down into a kiss (he's not necessarily complaining about this, though...).

The first time you actually pulled at his hair, you were just being playful. Anton was in an especially sassy mood that night and couldn't stop making petty remarks about everything you would say, while you two were binge-watching a random dating show.

"Why won't he just answer truthfully? He had no issue telling the other boys!", you exclaim, annoyed at the male single, who just bashfully lied to his date. "Y/N, why are you so uncompassionate? He wants to impress her." Anton sighs, rolling his eyes and dramatically crossing his arms in front of his chest, actually taking them off your shoulders. He can't contain his giggle, though, especially after looking at your annoyed face. You choose not to answer, being done with his antics. You also don't stop him as he's embracing you again, not even sparing him a glance, as he starts to press little pecks on your cheeks. Anton's kisses move further down your face, but before he could place one on your lips, you finally decide to tease him back: you lightly tug at his hair, the longer strands at the back of his head, pulling him away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for the moan that leaves his lips. You can see his dick swelling in his shorts, even in this dim lighting you can see how his ears turn a pretty shade of red. A relieved grin forms on his face, biting his lower lip, closed eyes, his glasses slipping down his nose a little bit -- you would never forget this expression.

From then on, you start using his little weakness, as you call it, to your advantage. If you want him to do something for you, like getting a water bottle as you are both already lying in bed, you'd start playing with his hair, wrapping it around your finger, massaging his scalp. After just a minute of this, he'll get up.

If he's getting on your nerves, teasing you or being sassy, you would play with the hair at the back of his neck as a warning, scratching the sensitive skin that's becoming riddled in goosebumps. Most of the time he'd only get worse, though, provoking you until you finally, and cautiously, yank his head back, asking him in your sweet voice to stop while keeping the pressure on his scalp.

Making out with Anton was always fun, sexy and passionate, but this definitely alleviated it for the two of you. Previously, you'd rather awkwardly place your hands on his shoulders or chest, but now you have them buried deeply into his light brown hair, pulling him occasionally closer by his cheeks.

You both can't stop kissing each other, surprising everyone at how shamelessly the shy Anton would french kiss you in public, just like he does tonight. One of your friends asked you to join her to this random house party at the house of some guy she is currently seeing, and since you knew she'd probably be gone the moment you step through the door, you decided to drag your boyfriend along to keep you company. Quickly, you two got bored, and decided to just make out in the kitchen. You're sitting on the counter, Anton standing between your legs, kneading your hips and ass. So immersed and turned on by the heated session, none of you noticed your friend stumbling in, until she's standing right next to you, jokingly complaining how rude you two are for hiding from everyone else. In actuality, none of you feel like returning to the group, instead you'd rather drive home and fuck his brains out. Much to your demise, your polite boyfriend actually starts to talk to her, but before he could promise her that you'd return to the crowd, you pull Anton's hair by the side of his head, until he's facing away from her, feeling overwhelmed by the heat pooling between your legs, just wanting to get her out. You yank at it with so much force he didn't even moan like usual, he just hisses at the pain. You quickly relieve your grip and tell your friend honestly that you two will leave soon, urging her to walk away, and immediately and panicky starting to kiss your boyfriends neck, worrying you hurt him. The moment she closes the door behind her, you wanted to apologize for being too rough, especially in front of another person, but Anton surprises you yet again by not only putting your hands back on his head, but also picking you up and carrying you out the backdoor to your car.

He moans so loudly when you pull at his hair, especially when he's inside you. His beautiful, light and airy voice sounds almost angelic as he's begging you in a whiny tone to pull harder. He cums so hard, his legs start to shake.

He's so desperate too, popping a boner as soon as your nails scrape his scalp, any rational thought leaving his mind. He'll actually giggle or laugh at every yank, feeling so much pleasure his heart pounds against his chest.

He doesn't really care if others are around when you pull his hair, in fact, it's usually the hottest since he least expects it, the humiliation only adding another layer to it. Since you usually do it rather spontaneously too, the tugs tend to be a lot rougher as well.

He cums just from getting his hair pulled while eating you out, your legs wrapped around his head, wet, swollen pussy rubbing against his tongue and nose, being engulfed by your sweet smell. Adding the friction from the mattress below his cock is more than enough to make him burst, loudly and whiny.

Kinda off-topic, but I hc him to be a little bit masochistic? Not just with the hair-pulling, but he'd also be into the asphyxiation aspect of cunnilingus (sitting on his face, wrapping thighs around his head...) and might even like it if you slap him lightly. He likes to feel owned, like you do to him as you please. It might be the depravity of it, since I also don't think he's solely submissive. He enjoys taking charge, I mean, you can still pull his hair, squish his face with your hand or bite him while he's pounding into you. lol

#anton x reader #riize x reader #smoochwrites #riize smut #anton smut #anton hard hours #anton hard thoughts

[belokhvostikova]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | An apology is definitely at hand, and Eddie cements it when he drunkenly appears at your house despite your clear disdain.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, descriptions of depression, self-deprecating thoughts, alcohol consumption, driving while intoxicated, mentions of neglectful parents, mentions of childhood abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief allusions to eating disorders, and brief mentions of predatory behavior.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | So sorry for the confusion, I was simply updating the color scheme of this chapter when an error was found in my tag list, which I had to edit. I had to remove the tag list, but everyone who was already in the list or asked to be will still continue to be tagged as new chapters are released.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫��� | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You stayed in your bedroom. Not studying. Not reading. Not eating. Barely even moving. The concavity of teals and pastels with trinkets and knick-knacks that constituted the room you found solace in for the last twelve years of your life had swallowed you whole. The bookcase. The vanity. The dying plants begging for life in a personified reflection to your state. Your knees. Your fingers. Your sullen face in the smudged mirror. You listened to the sounds around you. The cars. The birds. The buzzing bees of the blistering spring. So lively, not you. Your father, the whirring indication of the coffee machine that kept him alive, the clearing of his throat, and the crinkle of his newspaper, as if he didn’t proclaim the nastiest words of failure and disappointment against the child he fathered neglectfully. But you had everything—food, a roof, money—who were you to complain, right? Your bladder is full, it hurts, yet you don’t dare to move. You suck in a breath, forgetting to do so innately. Everything has become manual. Your breathing, your thinking, your will.

You’re eighteen, a senior in high school, and you want to go to college. Which one? The farthest one. You’re merely a girl, a teenage girl, a teenage girl deemed a slut because you were nice to a boy. Nothing more, nothing less. Until the next day, where you would be deduced to a whore, because that was the inevitable step for a teenage girl who was nice to a boy. And that’s all you think of. All you repeat. Because you don’t want to remember more. You just want to wait. For what? You don’t know. So you think, you sit, and you wait. Just waiting until there’s nothing more to wait for.

Maybe when you learn to let go, you’ll finally be free. 

-

Perhaps it was the jocular facet of Wayne Munson’s personality that humored the struggling reality of his life, or maybe it was as superficial as he liked to quip an occasional joke here or there, either way, the same teasing line declaring his rambunctious nephew to be the cause of his exceeding aging—the one that always got a good chuckle out of his buddies while sharing a beer or a shy giggle from the tired waitress who worked the overnight shift just to serve him his coffee in the early hours of the morning—was vastly proving to be a coping mechanism, because Wayne Munson swore he could feel a new wrinkle brandishing his forehead as his nephew was on the verge of getting suspended… and failing… and arrested. 

Eddie Munson truly did age the poor man into oblivion. 

“…Twenty-two tardies, fourteen absences, thirteen detentions…��

Wayne briefly freed the indented grays of his head from one of his many beloved trucker hats before securing it back on. His calloused fingers splayed against his stressed eyebrows at an attempt to alleviate the impending pain with a heavy sigh. It was midday. He should be resting for his coming shift at the plant. But here he was, having a parent meeting with the principal for his twenty-year-old boy.

“…Persistent insubordination, frequent public outbursts, and repeated offense of inappropriate comments made against staff…”

That one made Eddie giggle. Oh, Mrs. O’Donell.

“Okay, okay,” Wayne politely interjected with a tight-lipped smile, “I think I get the picture here.”

Principal Higgins scoffed incredulously, as he dropped the particularly heavy file of Eddie’s extensive high school record. “Respectfully, I don’t think you do, sir.” Eddie rolled his eyes, as he apathetically slumped in the chair. “Your nephew has been tormenting the sanctity of my establishment for six years, six years, sir, and he’s in for a seventh after assaulting a fellow student on school grounds!”

“Oh, please, Carver deserved it-”

“Ed.” Wayne gritted with sternness. 

“Mr. Munson, I specifically warned you of the potential consequences of another detention or suspension, and you went ahead and disobeyed my word! Now, charges are being threatened! This is monstrous! Vile, even! Blasphemous-”

“I told you, that jockstrap deserved it!” Eddie sat up to defend his stance, blatantly ignoring his uncle's plea to calm down. “Why aren’t you getting him in trouble, huh?! He’s the one that started all this shit! Going around and spreading lies about Y/N!”

And maybe this is when Eddie should have shut up, because the way Principal Higgins eyes bulged at the revelation honestly kinda freaked Eddie out a bit. 

“Ms. Y/L/N?!” Higgins spit odiously. “This is about Ms. Y/L/N?!”

Wayne blinked between both men. “Who’s Y/N Y/L/N?”

The poor man’s presence had long been disregarded. Once again, this had been extrapolated into a battle between Higgins and Munson, a long six year war that seemed to have no ending. And you, well, you fell victim in the crossfire, left unaided, to die, vulnerable to the vultures of Hawkins High that got to pick you apart free of consequences. Because that was human nature for a small town that capitalized the American Dream with infiltrations of conservatism and conformity for the need to prioritize normalcy. And Eddie Munson was not normal, therefore you were not normal. Because you took his fucking picture. 

“In my years of administration, I have never, and I mean never, have had this much havoc from two students!” It became quite astounding how much a single vein could protrude from a reddening forehead of a forty-seven-year-old man. 

“This isn’t her fault!” Eddie burdened to emphasize. “Why are you always blaming her?! You used to love parading her achievements around as if they were yours, and now that she’s friends with me,” you weren’t friends with him, “you suddenly got your little feelings hurt?! You’re unbelievable!” Eddie sneered with a heavy breath and condescending laugh. 

Now, Higgins had been far too familiar with Eddie’s bite, but the abrupt revelation had the man searching for words that would excuse his exaggerating behavior. “I-I, uh, well, I… t-this- this isn’t about Ms. Y/L/N, this is about you, Mr. Munson, and what you did!”

Wayne had reached his wits end, “Alright, alr-”

“What? Rightfully put Carver in his place? Yeah, I did-”

“Alright.” Wayne’s jaw was heavy with tension as a stern scrape of his teeth was gritted to end the commotion. “Look, I truly do not have the time to be doin’ this, so we’re gonna run this quickly.” He sighed with a hand massaging his stubble. “I’ll have Ed apologize.”

Eddie made his annoyance evident with a loud groan and scoff, as he waved his uncle off. 

“But,” Wayne interjected, knowing his nephew would spew out more words that would worsen his consequence, “you said it yourself, sir, that Ed’s been “disrupting” your school for a couple years now, so I don’t think another repeated year would do anyone any good. Right?”

“I- I… well, I, uh, I suppose so…” Higgins mumbled. 

“Perfect.” Wayne perched out of his chair with a groan from his aching back. “I think a… sincere, heartfelt apology will teach my boy a valuable lesson here.” He patted Eddie on the shoulder before yanking on his denim vest to pull him from his seat. “So, no detention, no suspension, that way Ed will get to graduate, he’ll be out of your hair, and all’s good in life.”

“I, well, I think we’re being a little too lenient-”

Wayne shoved his working hand in front of Higgins. “I appreciate your understanding, and I’m glad we were able to come to a consensus.” Dumbfoundedly, Higgins shook the man’s hand trying to process everything. “Now, I’ll get in touch with the other boy’s parents, hopefully talk them out of charges, and Ed and I will have a long talk as to why we shouldn’t hit people. Right, Ed?”

“U-um, uh, yeah- yes, sir, I’m so sorry.” Eddie nodded, faux guilt casting his face, as he pressed his lips in and threw his round eyes of disappointment to the ground. 

“Well, then” Wayne sighed, “I better get going, sleep’s not gonna catch itself.”

“Mr. Munson, uh, sir-”

“Again, thank you for understanding.” Wayne shoved Eddie past the office door, before sending a polite wave to Higgins, left speechless and open-mouthed, yet no protest could be formulated, as the Munson men were out quick with a slam to the door.

Upon reaching the empty halls of the school, Wayne wondered how ethical it would be to lean against the cold, metal lockers and light a cigarette, because he had no willpower to wait until he was outside. Wayne Munson loved Eddie, he truly did. It may not have been affectionately shown for the majority of his guardianship, but it was there; through every cracked joke, every greasy late-night dinner shared, and every moment when he would miss work, because Eddie always waited last minute to finish the algebra homework that he knew he struggled with, and Wayne was there to help. 

But parenthood, itself, was a troubling journey, and when abruptly placed onto a man who had no desire to ever have kids of his own, it became devastatingly unfathomable. It became worse when the kid in question knew nothing but abuse, no hugs no kisses, simply fists and swears to condition his mind with the wrongful notions as to how to express his emotions. It was grueling. 

Wayne cleared his throat. “Ed.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie was quick to explain, “but I swear, it really wasn’t my fault.” His eyes pleaded to avoid the wave of disappointment he knew he brought to everyone in Hawkins. 

“Boy, if this Carver kid and that girl, Y/N, are giving you trouble-”

“No, no, she’s not!” Eddie swallowed the lump in his throat, and huffed. “I-I mean, he is, yeah, but it’s nothing I’m not used to, so it doesn’t matter. But her, she, uh, she didn’t- I, fuck, look this is all stupid! He’s stupid, she’s stupid- I, no, she’s not stupid-”

“Eddie.” Wayne was seeing the younger boy Eddie had once been. Struggling with emotions, struggling with words, unable to process and formulate because he was scared. 

“She fucking hates me, alright!” Eddie heaved. “All of this is stupid, and it doesn’t matter, because she fucking hates me! And I can’t even blame her, because I’m an awful fucking person!”

“You’re not awful-”

“I am!’ Eddie sighed to catch his breath. “C’mon, Wayne, you know I am. I nearly fucking failed for the third time in a row, because I have no self-control and apparently no fucking emotional intelligence, and now I may end up getting arrested in the middle of the fucking school day. And she fucking hates me, Wayne, she hates me!”

The quietness of the hall became deafening after Eddie’s tangent. He knew his uncle didn’t understand half of what he just uttered, but it sure as hell felt good getting it off his chest. And by now, a cigarette was looking real good to the older gentleman. 

“I- shit, I’m sorry, just forget all of that.” Eddie groaned, a tense hand running through his tangled hair.

“No, no,” Wayne shook his head, “say what you need to say. It’ll do you some good.”

Eddie suspired. “Look, Jason was saying some really gross shit about Y/N that wasn’t true, and the only reason why they said all that shit was because she added me- uh, Hellfire to the yearbook.” Wayne raised an eyebrow. “I know, don’t give me that look, like I said, this is all fucking stupid. Anyways, I felt bad, he was literally causing a scene in the middle of lunch, and well, I punched him-”

“Well, see, you’re not an awful person.” Wayne pointed. 

“You didn’t let me finish.” Eddie, now highlighted with genuine guilt, casted down to the floor. “When she first took our picture, I kinda yelled at her, because I thought she was just being some two-faced cheerleader, which she wasn’t, but, uh, after the whole cafeteria scene, well, she told me to just leave her alone, and um, I got defensive and called her… a sl- look, I just really fucked up, alright.”

Wayne puffed out a big breath of air. “Okay.” He really didn’t remember high school being this cursory, granted it was over thirty years ago for him. “Uh, well, did you at least apologize to her?” He truly didn’t know how else to approach this problem. 

“Well, no, she got suspended yesterday because of the whole yearbook thing. Highly doubt I’ll get a chance.”

“Well, make a chance.” Wayne waved off simply.

“What?”

“You care that much about what she thinks of you, make the chance happen. Don’t just sit around, do something. And if you really don’t care, then just let it go and focus on graduating and not getting in trouble.” Wayne pulled out his pack of Camels. “Either way, I need sleep and you need to get to class.”

“It’s lunch time.”

“Then eat.” Wayne sighed, as he began walking away. “Just stay out of trouble, because there’s only so many free car repairs I’m willing to offer in order to keep your ass out of jail, boy.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

-

“I can’t believe this! I totally don’t look like this!” Dustin shrieked. “This is a terrible angle! And I specifically told the guy to get my good side!”

Mike laughed with a mouth full of greasy pizza. “You look like the orcs from our campaign.”

“Who looks like the orcs from our campaign?” Eddie announced his arrival, as he took a seat at the head of the table. 

“Dustin!” Gareth guffawed. 

“But, hey, if you really wanna feel better, take a look at Stanley Godwin who literally sneezed in the middle of his picture.” Jeff stole the yearbook from Dustin’s grabby hands. “Poor kid and his sinuses.”

But before Jeff could thumb through to find the sneezing sophomore, Eddie had forcefully yanked the brand new book from his friend. “Where the hell did you get this?!”

“I bought it.” Dustin answered. “The Yearbook Committee is already selling them. But, if you want my advice, don’t bother asking Nancy for a family discount.”

“You’re not family.” Mike sneered with a playful shove.

And in true Dustin Henderson fashion, the boy audibly gasped. “Have the last ten years meant nothing to you?”

“Is our picture still in here?” Eddie interrupted. 

“Yup!” Gareth smirked. “Front and center.”

Eddie flipped through the extracurriculars, filtering through the numerous clubs before his eyes bestowed upon their photo. There they were. All of them. Their faces and names representing the Hellfire title. 

“Hey, how’d the meeting with Higgins go?” Jeff snapped Eddie’s attention. “Your uncle dish one out to ya?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Eddie signed. “Got let off the hook.”

“Wait, Higgins isn’t suspending you?” Mike questioned, and Eddie merely shook his head in confirmation. 

“Wow, you’d think punching his precious star athlete would get you expelled.” Dustin laughed. “I mean, even Y/N got suspended for something less. Wish she was here, so I could thank her for the photo.” 

Your name had sparked something within Eddie. He quickly turned the pages to reach the senior class of 1986, and flipped until he found your face. Your fucking beautiful face. So pretty and proper, dressed in your best clothing, pearls shining around your neck, eyes glinting with perfection. You were perfect. Perfect. Down to the last minute detail. Your teeth, your lips, your skin.

Make a chance.

Eddie tore the page with much fervor in mind. 

“Hey, what the hell?!” Dustin whined. “That cost me forty-five bucks!”

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie muttered, as he stood from his chair, stuffing the torn page into the leather pocket of his worn jacket. 

“Where are you going?” Jeff catechized. “We’re in the middle of lunch.”

“To find Chrissy Cunningham.”

-

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot harder to find than Eddie had expected. She had been in the same lunch period with him for the entirety of the semester, but the one instance he actually needed to speak to her, she wasn’t sitting with the gaggle of cheerleaders and jocks that claimed the best seats in the lunchroom. The girls’ bathroom had been his best option, now he obviously didn’t enter, but after he begrudgingly called out her name through the doorway, he felt like a creep and left rather quickly. The gym was his backup, but after peering through the small windows of the double doors, all he saw was Coach Monaghan loudly instructing scrawny freshmen through enervating suicide drills for the sake of physical education. And the health room was no luck, as the guidance counselor was enforcing teaching the importance of abstinence to a group of girls—only girls—for the sake of sexual education. More like purity culture. Eddie was running out of luck. His watch indicated the mere five minutes he had left before he’d be obligated to endure Mrs. O’Donell. But, by the grace of whatever god may or may not be out there, Eddie caught sight of the strawberry blonde sitting alone upon the writhing wood of an old picnic table just outside of the cafeteria. He walked all around, just for her to be a couple yards from where he originally was. Sometimes Eddie could only scoff at himself. 

Appearing to be caught up in her own world, Eddie’s heavy footsteps went unnoticed, until he materialized into her peripheral, a startled shriek making him surrender with hands up in the air. 

“Woah, hey, sorry.” He raucously chuckled, looking around to make sure no one could fabricate some false story of harassment against a cheerleader. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

But his words brought no ease to her- clearly, it was just yesterday she was cleaning up her boyfriend’s lip, because of Eddie. “I, uh, I- well, if it’s alright with you, I, um, liked to talk- well, ask you for something.” He softly assured, as she eyed him timidly. 

“Um, a-about what?” Her voice could barely be picked up by the breeze of the afternoon. 

Eddie took it as an invitation to sit down across from her with a tight-lipped smile. It was awkward. He took notice of her uneaten lunch, merely picked apart but not savored—well, as savored as school lunch could be. “So, uh, what brings you out here?” Perhaps an attempt at conversation with someone he never even spoke to was too bad of an idea, but he simply chose the politeness path, as he ask was pretty hefty. “Finally got tired of Jessica’s big mouth?” He laughed.

Chrissy didn’t. Jessica had made a comment, one that sounded too much like her mother’s own words. 

So when Chrissy sadly shrugged, he dropped the small talk and diverted the conversation. 

“Okay, look, I’m just gonna be up front.” Eddie sighed. “I need you to give me Y/N’s phone number and address.”

Her thinly groomed eyebrows creased her forehead in confusion. “Um, what?”

“Look, it’s a simple ask, alright, I just need her phone number and address.”

“No, I hear you, Eddie, I just- well, I just don’t know if she would want me to-”

“No, and I understand that, I just really need to talk to her.” Eddie pleaded. “And obviously I can’t do that at school.” Chrissy stayed quiet with contemplation. “C’mon, you guys are friends- or were friends, right? I really just want to make it up to her after all the bullshit she’s been through. Us being partially at fault because of it, y’know.”

Chrissy’s guilty round eyes met his. “I just don’t want her to hate me more.” she whispered. 

Eddie’s mouth fell slightly agape, not knowing how to comfort. See, lying and saying all was good and merry between you and Chrissy in order to get what he wanted would have been his first solution—the asshole way of thinking. But being that Eddie being an asshole was the start of all your misery in the first place, he fought the urge to choose the easy way out and rubbed his face with agony. 

“Yeah, no, I, uh, get it.” He huffed. “And if it’s any consolation, she fucking hates me, too. Probably more than she hates you.” He smiled. And luckily, a sadden smile curled her lips, which was a start. “And I mean, rightfully so, we were jackasses to her.” He laughed.

“I should have stuck up for her.” Chrissy sighed. “She always has for me. I mean, she’s been my best friend for four years. But Jason, he just gets so far into this idea of what people will say and think, and he doesn’t want me or him hurting from others' judgment.”

“So you judged her instead?” He couldn’t really be one to speak on the morals of virtue, as he judged, too.

“I know, it’s so stupid.” She dropped her head into her palms with shame. “And I’m not trying to excuse it, I just want her to know I’m so sorry, but I haven’t had the courage to tell her.” She groaned. “Plus, her dad is really strict and really hard on her to be so successful, that I doubt he’ll want me over after she got suspended.”

Chrissy drowned with dejection. Four years of the purest bond between young girls had been cemented into a cascade of hateful rumors and a lack of clear discernment that severed their loving connection that persevered them through the pinnacle of teenage years. As naive fourteen-year-olds, you both had stolen the locked up booze from your father’s office, and cheered one another on as you took a sip, to ensure you both appeared to know what you were doing when you arrived to Bradly Leminski’s party. Turns out, you both had accidentally drank too much in the comfort of your bedroom and missed out. You’d even watched giddily, as Jason Carver asked Chrissy out, after you ran him through the basis of what she loves, because he was determined to get her on a date. But through the woes of boys and high school parties, you’d both been there for one another through the deepest of tribulations, like when Chrissy called you bawling, because her mother’s words manipulated the way she saw herself in the beautiful dress she’d been so excited to wear for the winter formal. Or when she held you tightly after saving you from the harsh grasp of a senior, Jimmy Saunters, who forcefully shoved multiple shots of tequila down your throat, and attempted to drag you into his friend’s bedroom when you were merely a baby freshman. 

Her comfort had saved you, just as yours did to her.

“Well, I mean, you can’t just not try.” Eddie reasoned. “Look, I fucking hate that she hates me, and I want to at least try to apologize to her, too, which is why I at least need her number and address, please. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you, too, whenever you get the chance.”

The school bell that Eddie had been all too familiar with screeched for the coming of class, and he jumped in hurry. “C’mon, Chrissy, please, you gotta help me out here.” The desperation became palpable. Chrissy turned and watched numerous students flood into the halls through the glass doors of the building. Caving in quickly, she rummaged through her backpack for a pink pen she’d nearly worn through after the excessive notes from her third period. But she simply grabbed Eddie’s jacket sleeve, and utilized the back of his veiny hand as a canvas for her information. 

He’d ache his neck with a contorted twist of his head to watch the fading ink print what he wanted. A seven digit number lined the back of his hands, a small smile consuming his face, but then Chrissy started capping her pen away. “W-wait, uh, her address, too.”

“Um…”

“Please, I swear, if she asks, I won’t say it was you.” Eddie rushed.

Chrissy sighed, before quickly scribbling the number and street name of your home. Eddie cursed under his breath. “Christ, Pinecrest Acres? I got hired to mow some dude’s lawn in that neighborhood one summer, and some prick called the cops on me for trespassing.” He scoffed, and poor Chrissy didn’t know how to respond at the irrelevance of his news besides with an awkward chuckle. “But, anyways, thank you. I’ll, uh, leave you to it.” Eddie saluted, as he headed towards the door.

But then he abruptly turned. “Wait! Uh, tell your boyfriend I’m sorry for the, uh, whole, y’know…” And Eddie laughed, as he mimicked the shocking punch that loosened Jason Carver’s front teeth. 

The entire reason why he hadn’t showed up to school that day. 

“Um, don’t you want to tell him yourself?” Chrissy sweetly proffered. “I’m sure it’ll mean more.”

Eddie could roll his eyes. It was Jason Carver. Nothing Eddie did could mean shit to him.

He winced with a hiss. “Yeah, see, I totally would,” no, he wouldn’t, “but since he’s not here, and you’re the next best thing, I trust that you’ll pass on the message for me.” He smiled so sickly, Chrissy couldn’t see the drenching lies of his words.

“Oh, okay.” She agreed. 

“Oh!” Eddie perked. “If Higgin’s asks, I totally did apologize to Carver, okay?” Well, maybe there was still a little asshole left in Eddie, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting anyone. Yet.

“Uh, o-okay.” She hesitantly smiled.

“Thanks, Chrissy.” He lifted his balled fist to bump with hers. It was telling of the fact that Eddie Munson had little interactions with girls his own age- or any girls for that matter. But she hesitantly bumped him back, nonetheless. “Y’know, you’re a really cool person, you should get better friends.” He affirmed, before waving a goodbye.

“Th-thanks.” She meekly watched him enter the school building. 

While uncomfortable at first, the overall start of the budding friendship between Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson was one to look forward to. While they evidently had nothing in common, it was quite comical actually, they could find reassurance in one another that improvements needed to be made within themselves in order to speak to the one person they both genuinely cared for. You. They at least had that in common. And luckily for Eddie, in six hours, Chrissy Cunningham would confide to Jason Carver to drop any potential charges, and he would listen, because he loved her. 

-

“Fuck.” Eddie mumbled under his breath. He shook the nerves from his hands, and rolled his neck in preparation. “C’mon, you can do this.”

“So, uh,” Wayne snapped Eddie’s attention. His uncle was staring at him circumspectly, as he shrugged on his jacket, “you preparin’ for a marathon, or somethin’?”

“What?” Eddie blinked through his messy bangs. “No, I’m about to make a phone call.”

“Right.” Wayne cleared his throat, studying the newfound nervousness of his nephew’s demeanor, which he hadn’t seen in- well, ever. “Ima head out to work, see ya tomorrow morning.” It was clear Eddie was waiting for his uncle to leave, as Wayne caught sight of how quickly Eddie grabbed the handle of the phone as Wayne, himself, grabbed the doorknob. “Is this about that Y/N girl?”

Eddie’s shoulder’s dropped. “Shouldn’t you be heading off to work by now?”

“Alright, alright,” Wayne mumbled, “just askin’. Be sure to eat dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it, Ed. Eat.” 

Eddie, in fact, did not eat. 

In order to not succumb to the nauseating feeling that was churning in the pit of his tummy, he came to the concurrence that a cold beer would extenuate the ferment that made his heart skip a beat every ten seconds. Now, in typical sense, Eddie had consumed enough beer in his lifetime, that a single one shouldn’t have affected him to the extent at which this one did. But see, Eddie didn’t listen to the wise words of Wayne Munson, and his gurgling, empty stomach rocked him to the edge of tipsiness far quicker than he was used to. 

And before he knew it, his cold fingertips were jamming the buttons to the sequence of Chrissy’s faded pink handwriting, and soon it began ringing- shit, the phone was ringing! Eddie began panicking in place, wavering between hanging up and bringing the phone back to his ear. He hadn’t even planned out what he would say to you. Well, he technically did, it was all that he could think about for the entire day, but each idea seemed unworthy to the standards you deserved, so he’d move on to the next thought, but then suddenly every thought was determined unfit by Eddie. Should he apologize? Fuck, of course, he should apologize, but for what first? Calling you a miserable bitch? An attention-seeking slut? Making a scene in the cafeteria? Yelling in your face? Making you cry? Jesus Christ, thinking it out loud, why on Earth would you ever accept his apology?! He should just hang up before it’s too late-

“Hello?”

Eddie Munson’s knees buckled.

He carelessly gripped the edge of his wooden table, and slowly steadied himself into the chair below. He should speak, but no words were coming out. His knuckle flew into his mouth, where his teeth brandished the tender skin with harsh indents. It was painful, but he couldn’t stop. 

You spoke so featherly soft, too delicate for his usual orotund tone. The one he’d use to berate you. “Um, hello?”

“H-Hi…” He pierced out, immediately cringing at the sudden loudness he uncontrollably spoke in. “It’s, uh- well, it’s me, um… Eddie.”

It was dead quiet for what felt like an eternity. 

No word, no squeak, no air. You were obviously holding your breath, and the mere thought was tearing at Eddie’s heart. “Please.” It came out so weak. “Please, Eddie, I don’t wanna start anything.” 

His stomach dropped, and his hands shook with how scared you sounded. You were scared of him. In the couple of instances he interacted with you, he scared you. Because to you, he brought harm. It may not have been physical, but it was detrimental, nonetheless. And you were scared. He was becoming the sole person he did not want to become, because he knew what it was like to be scared. 

“No, no, sweetheart,” he let out a shaky sigh, “I’m not gonna do anything. I promise.” He wanted to profusely vomit. It was the same words his dad had uttered to his bruised mom in order to sweet talk her out of leaving.

“I told you to leave me alone, Eddie.” You choked quietly. It was dinner. Your father was downstairs enjoying his takeout. Not yours. He stopped caring to ask the minute you refused to leave your bedroom. “I don’t even care how you got my number, but I need you to not call-”

“No, I know, sweetheart, but I really just need to talk to you.” His knuckles were casting white upon the tight grip he clutched the phone, as his lips brushed the bottom speaker in whispers. His other hand began insistently picking at the old wood of the kitchen table. Wayne would have a word with him about that. “I- what I did, I really need to tell that I’m sorry, because I truly am sor-”

“Eddie,” You gently interrupted, no energy to scream at him like your mind was begging you to do, “I don’t want your apology.” You sniffled. “If it really meant that much to you, you would have never done it to begin with, because I- I would have never done this to you. I would have never done this to you.”

His eyes clenched shut to mitigate the profound stinging of his eyes from the welling of tears his heart was urging to spill for you. He knew the probability of you accepting his apology was low, but his mother always seemed to accept his father’s after he sweet talked his way out of a domestic abuse charge. This is what was supposed to happen, right? You should be loving his words and running to forgive him, right? It was what he saw. It was what he experienced. It was what he was conditioned to believe. But you weren’t his mother. And he’d desperately do anything to not be his father. Yet everyday, the image in the mirror was sneering back that sickening smile that destroyed Eddie’s childhood. So you weren’t going to run in his arms. You were going to stand your ground, just like he wished his mother had done to his father. 

“Please, sweetheart.” A gritted through his tense jaw, as a tear stained his reddening cheek. “Please.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, Eddie.” There was no admonish to your words, in fact, you were so demure, holding back tears of your own, because he knew the ugly truth that you were well aware of the fact that if you screamed, he’d scream. And you’d, once again, be scared. “Just let me be, please. I don’t want you near me.”

The buzzing of the cutting line shot his bullet in his heart.

Your voice was gone, and yet, the phone stayed glued to his ear in hopes that he was just imagining it all. You didn’t hang up. You were still on the line. You would take back your words. You would accept his apology. But your euphonious voice never appeared again, and Eddie aggressively slammed the phone back on the hook with a grunt of frustration. The heel of his palms stabbed into his weeping eyes, as his shoulders assertively shook with every choke of his tightening breath. Rejection, heartache, vexation, and patheticism rampaged his mind from any calamity, and before he knew it, the characteristics he so badly hated about himself were being proffered up to the surface of his being. 

In truth, this was the scary aspect of Eddie Munson that resembled the harm he was verbally and physically ingrained with as a tragic child who knew of no hope. All rationale was gone, and wrongful devotion rooted in his deepest fear of being neglected with disregard had overtook his judgment. Standing with all fury, his finger’s strained through the excessive flexing of joints before his balled fist broke through the drywall of his trailer. His knuckles split with blood, but it felt deserving to him. Who was Eddie Munson without the infliction of pain? Absolutely nobody, he affirmed in his mind. He was meant to suffer. 

Chest heaving, beads of sweat pebbled his forehead, and the fridge door broke open. His truculent, battered hand grappled onto the torn yokes of the remaining three beers, hauling them, as his other hand reached for the keys to his van.

Eddie Munson was about to cause more harm. 

-

“Please, jus hol’ on f’me…” His drenched lips slurred with beer, as his hand crushed the empty can he haphazardly threw into the passenger seat, where his growing collection stacked. 

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie knew he was attesting to the predisposition of his role in this town, but he couldn’t help it. A lowlife, criminal, an irascible danger to society. Would you actually accept him? No, you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t blame you. But he couldn’t stand the pre-conceived notion he’d confirmed about himself to you, and he was in desperation to speak to you. Unfortunately, Eddie had panicked, and this was happening in the ugliest, most horrifying and sinister state he’d ever been in. And you would see it all.

As lucky as one can be under the influence while driving, the cracked roads had fortunately been desolate, as nuclear families gathered around their pristine tables to lavish in the draining emotional labor of home cooked meals by their underappreciated wives. He rejected all red lights and street signs, stampeding through neighborhoods, drifting past turns, and steadily accelerating until he’d approached the spotlighted sign of Pinecrest Acres. The affluence—actually the beer and sharp curves—made his stomach turn in disgust. The aristocrats of Hawkins housed together, where they frolicked with no worries in the prolific assortment of two-stories, pool houses, parterres, and vintage cars, all while the struggling families of Forest Hills had to huddle with worn blankets to survive the blistering winters of Indiana. Ronald Reagan’s conservatism sure had an ascendancy on this place. He came to an abrupt stop after his headlights reflected the engraved 630 of your mailbox. “6… 3… 0 Pinecrest fucking Acres.” He mumbled.  

His tire ran over the curb of your street before he pulled the keys from the ignition. For a second, he stopped. His breathing was becoming suffocating, as his chest fervently raised with each depth of an inhale. His hand found the door handle faster than his mind could process, and soon he was stumbling on inebriated legs to the front lawn of your house. Honestly, if your dad had found him, he would have shot him, but the man had driven himself into bed after downing the entirety of his rum. 

Eddie’s eyes scaled the height of the house. “Fuck me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have chugged four beers. He cleared his throat. His joints echoed in a rhythmic sequence of pops, as he pressed and twisted his fingers to loosen up. A guttural groan escaped as his neck was next, snapping it left to right to ease out any crooks. His breaths stammered in unprecedented waverness, as his ears ached through the thudding sounds of his beating heart that seemed to be amplified in his mind. Jaw ticking. Hands shaking. Mouth dried. Body sweating. What the hell were you going to do when he’d shown up without your consent? In fact, you explicitly said to leave you alone. “Shit, shit, shit.” Eddie wanted to cry. Should he knock? No, your dad would call the cops. Would you call the cops? He sure as hell would if a drunk man harassed his yard. 

But then, his stomach sank to his ass. 

The one room that had been illuminated by the glowing overhead light had accentuated your silhouette. You. It was fucking you. In your room. Where you stayed, where you studied, where you slept, where you’d been crying and chose stoicism to numb the pain of everything around. But everything had happened quickly, and soon, you were gone with a sharp close of your curtains. 

Eddie’s legs began working without thought, and he’d swiftly aligned himself with the window to your room, tramping the trimmed garden of crumpled rose bushes beneath his dirty sneakers. Your house had been complemented by the standing trellis that had been wrapped by vines of delicate nature. If there was any sign of either moving forward or leaving, the intricate trimming of your house perfectly starting where your trellis ended meaning Eddie had leeway to make it to your window, meaning Eddie’s intoxicated mind saw it was a passage to see you. “Jus do it f’her, do it f’her…” Regrettably, the rational part of his brain had fallen under the influence, which was screaming at him to just leave you alone. 

As stealthy as a drunk man could, Eddie prayed the trellis could hold his weight, as he began scaling the flimsy wood against your wall. All he could think about was you. Every step was for you. Every splinter was for you. Every stumble was for you. Yet his clouded judgment could not process the fact that you didn’t want any of this. But the bottom of his shoe was already scuffing the white trimming of your house, and he was hoisting himself to stand upon the hipped edge roof. Crouched and begging his intoxication didn’t drop him from the second story, he quietly approached the dormer of your window. 

His fingertips gently caressed the glass with great scrutiny. It was now just dawning on him as to what he’s just done. The danger he’s put himself and others in. The disrespect he’s inflicted upon you. The hurt. The knock was soft, barely comprehensible. You had ignored it, there was always noise. You tightly cuddled a bundle of your duvet, sinking yourself into the wallow of your bed in hopes of willing yourself to a serious need of sleep. But the noise continued. More apparent. More concerning. 

You jolted at the clearest indication of a set of knocks cascading against your window. 

Your heart began racing beyond compare, as the noise followed just outside. It was night, no one should be coming to your house, let alone your window at 9:27 p.m. And the one man you should have had full reliance on was currently passed out in his locked bedroom, where you knew awakening him would lead to a revile of the burden you’d become in his life. He said it when you were nine, and he’d freely say it again if you gave him a headache from his usual hangover. 

But suddenly, the trembling of your body succumbed when you heard it. 

“H-hello…”

Blindsided by the simple greeting, you stumbled out of bed with stupefaction that he would actually show up. Eddie. You ran to your window, swinging the curtains open to reveal him. Round, reddened eyes oozing with plead, as his hand pressed against your window. His heart sank at the look of disgust that his face garnered from you. He hated it. He hates your disheveled hair, your bagging pajamas, your wobbling lip. He hates you. He hates how perfect you were. Why the fuck were you so fucking perfect? 

You made out the shaky “please” that left his mouth. 

Opening the window swiftly, the cold breeze of the night engulfed you, as he helped you lift. “What are you doing here?!” You were quick to spit with spite.

“I-I,” upon seeing you, his eyes had an instant reaction to start welling for the shit he was putting you through, because he knew what he was wreaking was pure havoc in the normalcy of your life, “I just really needed to t-talk to you.” He managed to choke out.

His hot breath hit you like a truck, proffering memories of what a humid house party smelt like. “Are you drunk right now?!” He could only shamefully nod with closed eyes. “And you drove here?!” Another disgrace to his character. “Are you insane?!”

“M’so sorry… M’so fucking sorry, please, I-I jus- I jus-”

“You could have hurt somebody, Eddie!” Though whispered, it carried all the beratement of your anger. “You could have killed yourself!”

“I know!” He wailed with guilt. “I jus- I feel like m’losing my mind, because I need to fucking fix what I did. What I did to you! M’so sorry.” Your hands caught your head in anguish. You hated him, every being in your body wanted to shout at him, and yet, your heart was tormenting at the state he was in. And you fucking hated that you couldn’t hate him how you wanted- how you deserved. “M’sorry, I-I can leave and I swear I won-” 

“You’re not fucking leaving like this, Eddie, you’re gonna get hurt.” You began tearing in frustration.

“Nonono, p-please don’t cry-”

He tried to reach out to you, but you slapped his comforting hands away, forcing him to lose his balance, before you had to steady him yourself. “You’re just saying that because you know you’re the cause.” You mumbled far too low for his drunk brain to process, while you held a tight grip around his wrist.

At an attempt to pull him in, his heavy, limp body contorted trying to bypass your window alcove, brandishing it with the streaks of his dirty shoes, and it took all your strength to stumble him onto your bed with a huff. Having him sit in place, you kneeled in front of him to get a good look at his face through the peering moonlight. He looked beyond exhausted, a testament to the agony of contrition he’s been eaten by for what he’s done to you. His eyes wholly swollen with irritation and tears that stained his flushed cheeks, as everything around him felt like it was burning hot. You couldn’t yell at him. At this state, ambushing him with an onslaught of curses and shouts would only project him into a disposition of vindication in order to protect himself. And that side of Eddie Munson was scary.

“Eddie,” you sighed, as his hanging head managed to meet your round eyes and quivering lips. “You cannot do this again. Do you hear me? You’re scaring me.” He vehemently shook his head, as his hands were quick to cover his face with shame to shield from the embarrassment he was consumed by. You pulled his arms away. “No, Eddie, I need you to say it; that you won’t do this to me again.”

“I-I… I won’t do this to you a-again- m’sorry. I won’t touch you, I promise, M’not my dad.” He sobbed. 

You sighed in defeat. “What- why would you even do this in the first place? What are you talking about?” You pleaded to understand, as tears constricted your eyes. 

There’s so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start. “I fucking need to fix what I did to you. I didn’t mean it, any of the shit I said to you. Being around is just so nice that I get afraid. I don’t want to lose you… a-as a friend, because- because nice things don’t happen to me, and I don’t know what I would do if I lost-” His breath had caught up to him, making him retch on nothing but tears and snot.

“Breathe, okay, Eddie, just breathe.” You quietly instructed, as he endeavored to follow suit. Your hands softly took hold of his, trying to ameliorate the violent shakes of his stiffening body, fingers delicately locking to find solace within his. And he held back so tightly. 

“Nobody- nobody’s ever cared like you have.” He whimpered. 

“So why treat me like this?” You mewled, sinking your teeth to discontinue the incoming sobs that stung your throat. 

“Because I don’t fucking deserve you-” You were quick to immediately shush him, as your father was merely a couple doors down. “Sorry, but I can’t fucking like you, Y/N.” He murmured through a quivering lip. His mind was spewing his feelings, the one he so badly wanted to ignore, but alas, his intoxicated state was regrettably telling all. “I can’t, it hurts too much. Knowing- knowing you don’t belong with me, I-I can’t fucking hold you, hug you, I c-can’t.”

“Eddie, you could have just talked to me.” You softly cried.

“No.” He looked so terrified. “I can’t fucking hear you ignore me. I-I know you don’t like me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Fucking look at me, Y/N.” He bawled. “Look at what I’m doing to you. You don’t fucking deserve this. M’not a good person. I hurt you. I fucking hurt you.”

“I just wished you would have given me a chance, and talked to me, Eddie.” You squeezed his hands.

“No, I don’t want to burden you.” He cried with heavy breaths. “There’s things I wanna say to you- do with you, but I should just be letting you live free from me. No one cares about what I have to say, and you know it.” He begged for you to get it. “All that bullshit about communication doesn’t mean anything when it comes to me. No one wants to hear me. No one wants me.”

Your heart shattered at the revelation because it was beyond the definitions of truth. From childhood, Eddie Munson knew he was nothing if not a punching bag to his father, a therapist to his mother, an obligation to his uncle, and a burden to everyone. It became unwarrantedly embedded into a six-year-old boy and vandalized into his twenty-year-old self. He recognized it. Everyone affirmed it. 

You raked your hands from his hold, choosing to sit next to him on your bed, where your arms inundated him into a hug he had not received in years. The last close touch given to Eddie Munson left him weeping with a broken nose. He immediately fell into your embrace, shoving his head in the comfort of your neck, where his cries only amplified with the desperation of being touched lovingly. Your own tears had dampened his unruly head of hair, as you caved into him. His heavy arms constricted you tightly. 

At this moment, you were not scared of Eddie Munson. You’d seen his reasoning and you understood. Not excused, but understood. A lot of people had simply scared him first.

“I hear you, Eddie. I want to keep hearing you.”

-

“Eddie?” You whispered into his curls.

It’d been an hour of nonstop wails of distress, years of pent up emotions, and the realization that his being could be accepted. Even if it was just for tonight. His eyes had endured a rollercoaster of feelings, and they soon gave up on holding him awake. You didn’t move. He didn’t move. A tight hug that was necessary for both of you after heavy stoicism from neglect in your own unique ways. 

You caressed his head. “Eddie?”

He was out. You let out a shaky breath of relief. Carefully maneuvering his body, you gently laid his head onto your pillow, prying his strong arms from your waist where they refused to let go, bunching the fabric of your sweater. But you managed to escape his needy hold. Huffing lightly, you carried his legs onto your bed, deciding to let his shoes dirty your clean blankets. His arms had subconsciously gotten comfortable, splaying out against your mattress, where he fell into deep relaxation in comparison to the lumpy bed he’d succumb to back home. You took sight of the fading ink across his hand, your information decorating his alabaster skin with the all too familiar pink of Chrissy Cunningham’s pen. You wondered how the hell that conversation had gone down. You tenderly eased his arms from the malaise of his jacket, bringing the denim and leather infused with cheap cologne and cigarettes up to your nose. It was Eddie. Soothing the beloved jacket against the back of your desk chair, a small paper had dropped from the nearly torn pocket. Reaching out, you picked up the torn page from Dustin Henderson’s yearbook.

Though, no other student could be seen. It was ripped haphazardly to only focus on your picture. 

You.

Eddie Munson had now seen you, as you had now seen him. 

Softly placing the photo back, you rummaged through your closet to retrieve another set of duvets and blankets, where you preciously placed them onto the floor of your bedroom. Your bed had now been stolen, but you weren’t complaining—that much, at least. You’d quietly taken another pillow from your bed, placing it onto your newfound cushion of the floor. There was a reason why you shoved this particular blanket into the closet, it made your skin itch uncomfortably, but you’d withstand the terrible material of the woven covers if it meant that Eddie could get the peace he needed. 

Because if Eddie was okay, you’d be okay. 

Because similarly to Eddie, who were you if not catering to the needs of others in order to keep sanity in your life. You just wanted stability. True stability. 

Cuddling into your blankets, you heard the snores of the past out man next to you. You sighed. In the mere three days of knowing Eddie Munson, you accepted the emotional labor that came with his damaged self. But that was okay. Because Eddie Munson seemed ready to do the same for you. Accept you.

But how willing were you to tolerate the impulsivity of Eddie Munson who knew nothing of stability?

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | Again, there was an error in my tag list, which led me to removing it. Luckily, it’s been a couple days, so I believe most who wished to be tagged already read this chapter. My tag list will continue, I just simply had to remove it for this chapter in particular. I’m terribly sorry for any confusion.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #mean!eddie munson #the yearbook: club pictures

[xtreklx]

You're hurt ~ Ninja Turtles x reader

Headcanon: Bayverse Turtles x reader

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: SFW, angst + a little fluff, mention of injury

A/N: really appreciate all of the love shown to my last headcanon post, so I thought I'd do another one! switching up the tone tho and doing a little bit of angst ~ hope you enjoy!

__________

~Leonardo~

we all know that Leo probably has the best handle on his emotions of all the turtle brothers

so when he sees your injured form, on the outside he probably looks a healthy amount of concerned 

but inside he is absolutely going beserk

like amber alert sounds going off in his brain fr

he asks Donnie what to do as they quickly tend to your injury but as they work, there is a ringing in his ears 

when you wake up from being unconscious, the first thing he does is let out a big sigh of relief, and then "how're you holding up, princess? can I do anything for you?"

and when you smile softly back at him and say "I'm okay now, love, I promise" his heart is going to shatter and then put itself back together again all at once

he is so quick to do anything and everything to alleviate your pain

while you are healing, of course he takes the main shift in caring for you

he is constantly refilling your water bottle, bringing you food or tea, changing out your bandages

he'll even sit on the chair next to your bed and read to you, just to take your mind off of any pain you may be experiencing

our guy in blue is very motherly and nurturing in that way

but lowkey, he will take any chance he gets to step out of the room because of how much it pains him to see you like this

he'll lean against the wall outside of the lab/infirmary and rub his temples, furrowing his brow ridge and holding in tears

his most precious, delicate flower, trampled by the cruel, outside world

but he won't let you see his pre-grief; you only see him with a smile on his face

it's only when you start making visible progress with your injury that he starts to feel okay again

because the physical proof that you are going to recover reassures him that he is not going to lose you any time soon

~Raphael~

omg when Big Red saw you injured... his world literally came to a halt

like record scratch type of halt

his biggest fear in the whole wide world is losing his family, and you are a part of his family now

so he is simply beside himself with fear and worry and is absolutely desperate and angry until he knows that you're going to make it

he will be snapping at whoever is tending to your wounds, if anyone tries to pull him away from you he WILL FIGHT THEM

he is very not okay and very emotional

once he gets a moment alone, he will definitely let the emotions take over and cry to himself

when you first wake up, he will say or do whatever he can to make you feel tough, because he doesn't want you feeling weak while down for the count

"damn, you really showed 'em, huh tiger? you shoulda seen the guy, he was limpin' away after the stunt you pulled."

swears up and down that he will kill whoever touched you, and even though raph is a violent guy, he's not a killer. but he 100% means what he says

however, a big part of him is going to blame himself. for not being with you, for letting you get in the way of danger, for even allowing you to be a part of a life like this to begin with.

but you can read the big guy like a book. so you give him a knowing smile and tenderly reassure him: "I wouldn't do a thing differently. I love you, and I want to be with you no matter what."

you got him fucked up, that's for sure

and while you are healing he is in no way shape or form leaving your side for a SECOND

he will fall asleep next to your infirmary bed, he will eat meals next to you, he will do whatever Donnie tells him to, but he will not be able to physically bear leaving your side

man's top quality is his loyalty, and while his fears or insecurities may get the best of him every once in a while, he's in it too deep now, and he'll do anything to be by your side

~Donatello~

as we expect, Donnie is able to keep his head on straight when he sees that you're injured

he knows that he has to have his wits about him because he's the only qualified medic of the group

but deep, deep down he is in full-on panic mode

Don keeps different groups of tabs open in his brain (like on a google chrome browser), and while one of the groups is flipping through every medical textbook he has ever read, another group is just going "Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N--"

over and over again like a computer system error

his brothers are trying to help him tend to your injuries but he is extremely strict with whatever they do and has a very hard time letting go of the reins

as he's talking to them, he looks concentrated and steady, but his voice will not stop cracking

once he has decided that you are stable and going to be okay is when he breaks down

he's definitely also a crier, and can't help but think about how he almost lost you and can't function without you

but he gets a hold of himself, continues to chronically monitor your vitals and pain levels, and then immediately gets to work on a new invention to keep you safe

when you first wake up, now that he's feeling a little more confident with your condition, he'll say something silly to cheer you up, like "well hello to my newest little experiment"

and you'll smile back at him with a joking "hi, Doctor Dee", insisting that you're fine as he asks you a bunch of analytical questions about your symptoms

after he's done playing doctor, he'll just sit next to you for a moment in silence, looking apprehensive

but you know exactly what he's thinking, so you say "you're my hero, Donatello. you know that, don't you?" 

he gets so blushy and flustered at that, but has the biggest smile on his face 

~Michelangelo~

surprisingly, when Mikey sees you hurt, he goes quiet

you would think that with our goofball in orange, his reaction would be super over-the-top and dramatic

no, mans goes dead silent

he never gave much thought to what his fears in life were before this, but he has realized that one of his biggest fears has just come true

he asks Donnie what he needs to do, and he doesn't think he has ever sounded more desperate in his life

he does his tasks immediately and with the utmost attention to detail, no protests and no questions asked

his brothers have never seen him like this before in their lives: so focused and concerned and quiet

they'll tell you about it later, as a testament to how much the guy lives and breathes for you

once Don has confirmed that you are stable and going to be okay, he lets out the biggest sigh of relief and overall goes back to his old self

when you wake up from unconsciousness, you're a little confused as to what happened, and he just goes "you got hurt on your way down from heaven, angel!"

he does everything he can to comfort you and make you smile and relieve your pain while you're recovering

he'll bring his speaker in and play you some of your favorite songs, sometime putting on elaborate performances to get you to laugh

he'll try and cuddle with you in your hospital bed and whine when Donnie protests

"awe come on, Doctor Dee! help a dude out a little!"

but he'll be successful whenever Donnie is sleeping or too engrossed in one of his other projects, and he'll lay next to you and stroke your hair

but whenever he remembers that moment when he thought he had lost you, he will go dark for a moment or two

and he will do whatever it takes to ensure that it never happens again.

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #bayverse tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt Raphael x reader #tmnt raph #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt Leonardo x reader #tmnt Leo x reader #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt Donatello x reader #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt Michelangelo x reader #tmnt Mikey x reader #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2014 headcanons #tmnt 2016 headcanons #tmnt bayverse headcanons #tmnt bayverse x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donatello

[satoruwiki]

Hey! I really loved your somno piece with Sukuna and story about Gojo’s lactation kink. If you take requests, can you do Sukuna having lactation kink 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 please please please, I’m going feral thinking of this 😩

♡ - ̗̀ LET ME HELP YOU...⇢ ৎ୭

minors, ageless and blank blogs dni.

content: nsfw; smut; porn w/o plot; afab!f!reader; noncurse!sukuna; implied relationship; lactation kink; breeding kink (if you use a magnifying glass); fingering; unprotected sex (on purpose lol);

w.c: 1.2k

n/a: sorry for making you wait for so long, i couldn't think of a good scenario to begin this with and tysm for the support! hope this makes worth the wait :(

"Ah! It hurts…" you hissed as you held your breast, wincing in pain at the fullness of it. You desperately needed to pump the milk out, but your child was asleep, so you had to find another way to empty it.

"What happened?" Sukuna's deep voice echoes behind you; you turn slightly and notice his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

You sigh as you take a small artifact from among the cupboards. "Oh, nothing. I just produced more than what he eats," you mumble, adjusting the breast pump to your chest to relieve the pressure in your milk-filled boob.

Sukuna hums in acknowledgment, understanding the reason for your discomfort now, and wraps his beefy arms around your waist, depositing soft kisses under your jaw. "Next time, let me know when it happens," he said, sounding like an order.

"What for?" you sounded confused. In your mind, there was no reason to do so.

"Just do it," he reiterated.

—

You woke up with a familiar sharp pain in your chest, your t-shirt wet around the nipple area. You cursed under your breath; you had fed your baby not too long ago, and it was likely that he was not hungry now.

"Honey..." you nudged your boyfriend, prodding him to wake up. "... 'kuna, wake up."

You heard a soft -and slightly annoyed- groan from him. "What's wrong?" Sukuna grumbles groggily, with his eyes still shut, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"It happened again; it hurts," you whisper back.

"Okay, lie back in bed," he instructs you, which leaves you dumbfounded. Is he being serious?

"Then why did you tell me to tell you when my breasts were full again? Aren't you going to do something about it?" you hissed; the discomfort in your chest and his somewhat apathetic (or at least that's how you interpreted it) response had your irritation simmering within you.

Sukuna sighs heavily, sitting on the bed and gently pushing you back onto the mattress. "I am," he reaffirmed, hovering above you and lifting your shirt over your bust, small blobs of the white liquid running down your mounds. "You don't have to be angry," he kept his voice passive, but his eyes expressed the opposite, carrying a glint of lust in them. 

"What're you-" A gasp cut short your words as his mouth latched onto your swollen breast to suck on the hardened peak, gulping the fluid oozing out of it.

"Sukuna, wait, no- Ah!" you mumbled, breathy moans spilling out of your parted lips as you ran your fingers through his pink locks of hair, pulling on them at each hard suck of his, earning a low groan from him.

Sukuna's tongue lapped over the pebbled flesh and swirled around your areola, revelling in your honey-sweet taste. His skilled tongue confused you; it drifted your mind into a foggy state and sent a heat pooling in your lower back, making it hard for you to think and know what you truly wanted. 

Your back arched off the bed, and you shuddered at his teeth grazing over your delicate nipple, drawing a loud whimper out of you. "Easy there, I'm oversensitive now," you sputtered, your words coming out as a weak plea.

His eyes rested on your gaze, a sly smirk gracing his lips moist in his saliva. "I'm surprised you haven't stopped me yet," he remarked, "Feelin' good, eh?"

His teasing words went up to your cheeks, flushing them red. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stop him or not; the pain of your swollen tits was alleviated and replaced by the pleasure of his lewd ministrations on you. "Stop looking at me like that," you whined, blushing up to your ears.

"Don't tell me what to do, silly. I'm doing you a favour right here," Sukuna sighed with a chuckle, his lips latching onto the neglected nipple, a soft grunt escaping as he gave your sensitive skin a broad stroke. With a scowl on his face, Sukuna delighted with your breast milk, an elixir to his taste buds and a stimulating to his cock, which throbbed and left a wet patch on his boxers. "You taste so damn sweet. Might be my new favourite drink after your squirt, of course." 

You squirmed underneath him, overwhelmed by his mouth and vulgar words. His hand traced a path from your breast to your centre, snakily slipping under your wet panties. His calloused fingers circled your bud and teased your folds, coating them in your essence. "So fucking soaked f'me, dirty girl," he murmured, bruising the skin of your breast.

His name spilled out of your plump lips as he glided two of his thick fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping and scissoring inside your gummy walls, the knot in your stomach snapping and coming undone on his fingers.

"Already? I haven't put my dick in yet," Sukuna teased you, drawing an embarrassed whine from you.

He pulled his fingers out of you, his tongue lapping and licking them clean of your release as your pussy clenched around nothing, begging to be stuffed with something thicker.

Without being able to wait any longer, Sukuna unfastened the cloth that confined his erect cock, with a thick vein protruding from the side and smaller ones running down its length, his urethra leaking precum gliding down to the base.

He aligned himself with your pussy, teasing you by sliding his gland up and down across your folds and kissing your swollen clit with it. Before he could sink inside your wet walls, you halted him, putting your hand on his abdomen. "'kuna, condom," you reminded him.

He ignored your comment and snorted, leaning down to trail kisses from your jawline to your collarbones. "For what? We already have one," he mused biting at the skin on your throat, "I wouldn't mind giving you another one."

His cock sank down slowly into you, the initial burning stretch of your pussy being worked open pulling lewd noises out of you, your legs encircling his waist til he bottomed out. 

"Holy shit, you feel so fucking amazing," he huffed, his girth moulding your clenching walls to his size as he fucked you, his cockhead kissing your spongy spot at each deep thrust, driving you to ecstasy.

You moaned his name like it was a mantra to you, your nails scratching his back muscles, holding onto him for dear life and feeling your second orgasm closer than ever. Enamoured with your cunt, Sukuna babbled sweet nothings to your ear, telling you how good you took him in and marking you as his property. "I fucking this pretty pussy, sucking me in so greedily. She knows who she belongs to, doesn't she?" He panted, licking off the bead of sweat rolling down your neck covered in his markings.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," you sobbed out, your brain numb from the heaven-sent pleasure his cock made you feel.

"So pretty, already cock drunk," he hissed, his abs clenching and glistening in sweat, close to his climax.

Your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck and was unexpected. Your legs quivered and went limb, your pussy fluttering around his shaft. Sukuna cursed under his breath, the spasms of your walls making his dick pulse and release his seed inside you, his hips stuttering to a stop as he reached his high.

Sukuna pressed his forehead against yours, careful to not crush you with his weight as he steadied his breath. "What do you say?" he puffed exhaustedly. 

"Thank you," you mewled weakly, still dizzy from your high.

"Good girl."

#KY000 ★ #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jjk sukuna #sukuna x y/n #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu ryomen #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime smut #jjk smau #smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw smut

[poisonlove]

Jealous | w.a

Wednesday Addams wasn't exactly sure why she found herself at that party. She was accustomed to spending her nights writing, playing the cello, or simply continuing her investigation on Hyde, but despite this, she was in the main hall of Nevermore, torturing her eardrums in a way she didn't like to be tortured.

Her brown eyes roamed the room, noticing how other teenagers danced, talked, or simply tried to get as physically close to each other as possible. The smell of alcohol stung Wednesday's nostrils, and she agreed that she shouldn't be there at that moment.

It's torture being here.

Her gaze stopped at the figure of Y/N at the far end of the room, accompanied by Yoko. The girl was laughing while holding a red, overflowing glass of alcohol in one hand. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she laughed and blushed at the things the vampire girl whispered in her ear. The vampire's arm was around the shoulders of the academy's only fairy, idly playing with Y/N's T/C-colored strands.

Wednesday felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach, like a firestorm that didn't want to calm down. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Her jaw tightened, causing an odd clicking of teeth. Addams was very confused because she didn't know what was happening in her body.

She had probably been looking at Y/N for too long, as the girl had turned in her direction. A smile spread across her lips, displaying her perfectly white teeth. She waved to Wednesday, feeling uncomfortable for not receiving a wave in return. She then turned her attention back to Yoko.

"If you keep staring at her, she'll melt," someone said, and Wednesday turned her attention to the sound of the voice. Two blue eyes looked at her amusedly.

The sensation in her stomach had disappeared.

"I'm not staring," Addams said simply, annoyed by the mere accusation. Enid raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I didn't think you'd come to the party; I'm very surprised," Enid said. The werewolf girl had been drinking, and Wednesday wrinkled her nose at the smell of what seemed like vodka. Enid looked at Wednesday with glassy eyes, offering a clumsy smile.

"I'm as surprised as you are, I don't know why I came here," the black-haired girl replied, shrugging. Her eyes, almost unconsciously, sought and fell once again on Y/N's figure.

The feeling of discomfort returned.

Stupid vampire.

Enid held back a smile when she saw Wednesday's throat swallow nervously. Wednesday was clearly jealous, and she would tease her about it forever. Addams resisted the urge to go over there and rip Yoko's fangs out.

"I think I'll go back to the room; I'm not feeling well," Addams confessed, looking at the tips of her shoes as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"What's wrong?" Enid looked at her roommate with concern.

"My stomach hurts; I think I haven't digested dinner," she said with a furrowed brow. At that moment, her nerves had relaxed, and the fire in her stomach had subsided, replaced by embarrassment.

"What did you eat?" Enid asked, rubbing her wrist to ease the pain. Addams grabbed Enid's wrist and pushed her hand away abruptly, annoyed by the contact.

"I ate the usual, Enid," Wednesday replied begrudgingly, rolling her eyes at the somewhat stupid question. The blonde rubbed her wrist, trying to alleviate the pain.

The alcohol in her veins allowed Enid to challenge Wednesday. Suddenly, she had an idea, a thought that, if she wasn't careful, could kill her. Tonight, she felt strangely brave.

"Let me try something," Enid grabbed Wednesday's shoulders.

At that moment, Wednesday was confused and felt like pulling Enid's hair due to the blonde's gesture. Her eyes were fixed on Y/N, a sensation of spiders weaving a web reigning in her stomach, which was suddenly replaced by the fire when she saw Yoko's hand around Y/N's waist.

"Do you feel that your stomach bothers you?" Enid asked absentmindedly.

"Yes, it feels like it's burning..." she whispered softly. Enid Sinclair stood in front of her, blocking her view of the fairy.

"How about now?" She smiled.

"Now I feel better... definitely," Wednesday opened her eyes in confusion at the sudden change of emotions. A knot stuck in her throat when T/C-colored eyes met hers.

Her legs wobbled.

"Perfect. What you're feeling is called jealousy," Enid said sweetly, satisfied with having solved her best friend's dilemma. Wednesday felt like the world was crashing down on her. She couldn't be jealous; she didn't want to be like her parents, she didn't want to fall in love. She despised anything that came close to this feeling, and she felt nauseous at the thought of her parents' interaction.

"How can it be avoided?" Wednesday asked in panic. For the first time in her life, she felt fear. She was afraid of something that was new to her and that she couldn't handle. She wanted to bury it inside her, hide it in the remotest part of herself.

"You can't control it," Enid exclaimed, sighing heavily when she saw Ajax in the distance, her wonderful boyfriend. Ajax greeted her and invited her over.

Wednesday Addams looked at Y/N again, realizing that Enid was right. Her heart was pounding, she had never felt this way in her life, and she was beginning to feel the famous obsession that her father had told her she would feel when she fell in love. Something inside her had bloomed, and she knew it would be impossible to hide it.

If you can't beat the enemy, ally with them, and Wednesday wanted to do just that with Love.

"She will be mine, Cara Mia," Wednesday whispered, smiling slightly, her eyes darkening further due to the darkness growing within her. The Italian nickname that she never thought she'd remember or say in her life came out of her lips naturally, and it felt damn good to say it.

She would be mine, and nothing and no one could separate us, even if she had to kill her and erase her from the face of the earth.

Now that Wednesday had admitted what she felt, she no longer wanted to deny it; she simply wanted to go there and claim what was hers, even if it meant getting her hands dirty with blood to get it.

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #miércoles addams #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday adams x reader #Jealously

[peachesofteal]

Firstly, I love your writing-- I eat it up like Im starved. Secondly, I LOVE omegaverse dead disco. It's so good omg. I'm begging for more if you feel like writing. Simon and Johnny realizing darling left the flat and panicking to find her. Comforting eachother because they feel so guilty for not catching on to the fact that darling was lying about the suppressants.

hope you have a great day/night!!! xx

Ahh love thank you so much for your support! I’m so happy you’re enjoying them 🩵

Takes place after this.

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / mature themes

You’re practically sedated between them. Johnny keeps himself pressed to your back, the warmth of his chest bleeding into your skin while you chuff in your sleep, little purrs and hums vibrating in your chest.

His knees stay tucked up behind yours, his arm under the pillow where your head lays, neck and glad exposed for his mouth, tongue flicking over your skin every few minutes to remind you, deep in your heat hazed sleep, that they’re there.

Simon’s laying on the other side, his chest pressed to yours, one arm draped over your waist and Johnny’s, occasionally stroking up and down your side. Whenever you tremble or fidget, he shushes you, soothing you with a rumble in his diaphragm until you’re slipping back under.

“How did we not know?” He whispers. Johnny lifts his head, peering over you to peek at his Alpha, his distraught face, worried eyes and brow furrowed low making his own anxiety pick up. He presses his nose to your neck and inhales deeply, licking over your gland before reaching to grip Simon’s hand tight.

“I… ‘m not sure. Why would she hide this?” He tries not to think about how long you’ve been dealing your heats on your own, trying to satisfy yourself, alleviate your own pain with toys that wouldn’t even come close.

And yet-

“She’s been exhausted, these past few months.” Simon reaches out to stroke his wrist along your gland, scooting even closer, lowering his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss. “More tired than usual. More scattered. I’ve thought, maybe… she was going through a phase, trying to prepare for possibly… growing our family but this… I mean. The cleaning, the collecting of our clothes all the time-”

“The sheets.” Simon nods. The sheets have been fresh when they’ve come home, every other op. They thought it was because you were trying to clean for them, an unnecessary action considering they’d rather swim in a sea of blankets that smell like you and them together, but the flat had always been spotless too. Fridge scrubbed, bathroom shiny. They’d just assumed…

“I’m going to call her doctor.” Simon tells him lowly, and unease spikes in Johnny’s heart. It feels like an invasion of your privacy, a violation almost.

“It’s-“

“It’s our responsibility, as her mates. We’re supposed to be taking care of her. I can’t do that unless I have all the information.” You fidget, and they both still, voices silent while you purr and shift. “What if she’s sick?” Simon’s voice breaks, and Johnny closes his eyes, breathing through his nose against the widening pit in his stomach. You’re not sick, you’re not, you’re fine. You’re here, right here with them. In his arms- “Or what if something is wrong? And instead of telling us, she’s tried to deal with it on her own.” He can’t disagree with the last bit. If there was something wrong, you might feel like a burden, like you should be handling it yourself.

Why have you been suffering on your own? Why haven’t you come to them? Your mates? Why are you trying to self soothe? Have they done something wrong? Have they not been proper Alphas for you? What happened, before you came to them?

“She’s never indicated anything in her past that would be explain the self soothing.” Johnny murmurs, Simon nods gravely.

“We’re going to have a long conversation, after the heat.” Johnny’s arms tighten around, and he tries to not get lost in his own feelings. He wants to feel happy, feel excited about you not being on suppressants, like they’ve always dreamed of. Wants to relish in the opportunity to care for you in the most intimate ways, during your most vulnerable times.

But they can’t. He can’t. How could they be happy about this? You’re suffering. You’ve been suffering, lying, hiding yourself from them. All he feels is worry, sadness, guilt. They’ve been off having their ruts together while you’ve been alone, taking care of yourself and then hiding the evidence.

Simon sighs, and Johnny sees the same feelings in his eyes. The pain. The guilt.

“We let her down.” He whispers, and Simon nods.

“We should have been here, should have been paying better attention.” He shivers. “I know her moods, her tells better than anyone. I can’t believe I missed this.” Johnny squeezes his fingers, rubbing a thumb over the back of his knuckles in attempt to comfort him.

You whimper, hips shifting. You smell, a mixture of your sweat and the residual fear from your midnight escapade, dried slick and fresh. The heady, ripe heat flavor lingers beneath it all, but you need to be cleaned before anything happens.

Your hips press against his, rubbing, seeking. A small smile breaks through on his lips.

“Sweet Omega.” Johnny kisses you softly.

“Sweet, stubborn little Omega.” Simon agrees, and then strokes a hand down your back. “Let’s get you in a bath, darling.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

[bunniekittiee]

The Lin Kuei brothers with a sick s/o

Bi-Han

He may not exactly show it, but he is really worried for your health.

Like this man is pacing and checking on you every minute.

He just wants you to feel okay, and he hates to see you miserable.

He will force you to be in bed and if you try to argue with him, he will forcefully put you back in bed no matter what.

Also don’t even try to mention how you don’t want to get him sick, he will give you the dirtiest look ever and tell you to shush.

He doesn’t care, he wants to take care of you.

Surprisingly a good cook.

He will make you hot soup and use his powers to somewhat cool it off to a warm temperature so you can eat.

He will make sure you have water, cough drops, tea, any remedies that can help you and your illness.

If your sinuses are plugged, he will gently rub your face to break up the mucus and aid your recovery.

Will give you forehead kisses while you sleep.

If you run a fever, he cuddles with you, and even though he can run cold, he will stack blankets on you.

If your fever breaks and you’re sweating profusely, he will cool you off with his hands.

His powers can def be helpful.

Kuai Liang

Oh this sweetheart loves to take care of you.

He might even notice your illness before you even tell him, and he is rushing you off to bed.

He doesn’t want you to overexert yourself when you need time to recover.

Immediately makes you soup and tea.

If you’re running a high fever and are shivering, he will warm up your body.

His fire powers definitely pay off in this aspect, plus he loves cuddling so it pays off double.

He worries but he knows you will recover, he is very positive about that.

He isn’t worried about getting sick, his immune system is strong.

If your nose is runny, he will wipe away your snot and give you a kiss on your head because he thinks you’re cute.

Even if you look like you rose from the dead, he thinks you’re miserably cute.

He finds it a little funny to see you in such a state, but he loves to take care of you no matter what.

It makes him feel helpful.

Will give you massages to help with body aches and pains.

Brings you lots of tea so the steam can help drain your sinuses if you are stuffy.

Sometimes will heat up water in the bathroom to produce steam so your airways can clear.

He’s very helpful, he wants you to feel better as soon as possible.

Tomas

Feels really bad that you are sick.

When he sees your little feverish face, his heart swells.

He is willing to do anything and everything possible to help you.

Will bring you anything you need and is very quick with it. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting longer than you have to.

Tomas is v good company, he will sit there with you and talk or he will rub your head to alleviate some head tension.

He wants you to know that you have him you can lean on.

He is a big cuddler and will hold you for hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him.

Your sinuses were so congested while you were sleeping, you started to drool on him.

He didn’t care, he thought it was really cute even if you found it gross.

Anything you do is cute to him.

Will take you outside to get some fresh air and sun. He believes that this is a good remedy for illness.

If you are running a fever, he will pile blankets on you and wrap you up in them.

You’re like his little burrito.

If you start burning up, he immediately begins to unravel you and will bring you a cold wash cloth to lay on your forehead.

Gives you lots of face kisses. Giggles when he sees your tired smile.

It makes him happy to be helpful and loving to you in this state.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk bi han #mk kuai liang #mk tomas vrbada #mk sub zero #mk scorpion #mk smoke #mk1 bi han #mk1 kuai liang #mk1 tomas vrbada #mk1 #mk1 2023 #scorpion x reader #sub zero x reader #smoke x reader #scorpion mk1 #bi han sub zero #smoke mk1

[de4dlyniightshade]

could you do spencer giving reader his shoes when he notices how her feet started hurting from wearing heels for a while? i hope this makes sense

(this is my first time requesting lol but i really love your work 💗)

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: none

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: none, just domestic fluff

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

A/N: matthew offering that girl his shoes is my roman empire and i did cry.

you should've listened, you really should have but you just hated when he was right, which was already a score of about 2763547-1 to him so just this once you wanted to prove a genius wrong and now you were experiencing the consequences of your own actions.

you thought you were playing off your pain well and disguising the very obvious limp you had going on but truthfully, spencer noticed about fifteen minutes ago, he wasn't ignoring your pain because he didn't care, he did, very much, he just wanted to see if you would admit that he was right. he really should've known better, you would never admit he was right, especially when it was such a cliche.

"spence, hold on, i need to fix my shoe" you lied, slowing your hurried footsteps to keep up with him to a stop and leaning on a wall for support as you adjusted your heel, forcing your foot off the bottom to alleviate some of the throbbing pain.

you heard spencer let out a heavy sigh, looking uo at him to see him looking back at you with an "i told you so" look on his face but you refused to crack.

"i'm fine, it was just wonky, my feet are fine" you lied again, spencer deepening that look on his face before shaking his head and crouching down on his knee, reaching for his already tied shoelace and beginning to untie it.

"spence, i mean it, i'm fine" you tried to bargain but he just wordlessly continued, moving onto the other shoe before standing to step on the heels to get them off, revealing one pink sock and one with cats on it.

"nice socks" you joked as spencer picked up his shoes and held them out to you, "put them on, please" he asked softly.

"i do not need your shoes, i am fine." you said, enunciating every word to sound sure of yourself but he saw right through it, sighing again as he moved to stand right in front of you, dropping on one knee again and grabbing your ankle to lift your foot.

"you don't have to admit i was right but i won't see you in pain" he mumbled as he unbuckled your heel, sliding it off your foot and you had to resist sighing in pure relief as you felt the heavenly material of his beat up converse slide onto your foot.

spencer stood up and brushed down his pants after putting his other shoe on your foot and trying them both so they wouldn't go anywhere, offering you a sweet smile.

"thanks..." you mumbled, practically admitting he was right and he had to hold back that shit eating grin he always gave you when he was right, instead offering his hand that wasn't holding those evil shoes to you.

"come on, we're almost home anyway"

#📬 maeve's mailbox! #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction

[grlpartdoll]

Ok so the first post I made about famous!reader and bodyguard!Simon made me think about something interesting. How would Simon react to his lamb actually getting sick or being in a bad place? I am sick, so this is incredibly self indulgent, lol.

afab!reader, mdni with any of my work pls.

You sip quietly, watching through your lashes as Simon types something on his phone. It's late at night — one am. Way past the bedtime established by the man himself.

There's only one light on, and it's the one in the hallway. It illuminates only half of his face, highlighting a sharp jaw, a scarred brow and lip, a once (or twice) broken nose.

When you shift uncomfortably, he peers down at you again, his eyes immediately brought to you when you sputter a little, water refusing to go down.

"Doc's beeper is off." He announces, turning off his phone and bending his knees a little to lower himself to your height. As you slowly move your cup of warm water down on-top of your thighs, you cup your throat, a desolate frown on your face.

He motions for you to open your mouth, raising a hand to pinch your chin gently between his fingers. He looks at the state of your throat, at the cough drop you're using sitting idly behind your teeth.

He shakes his head. "Still inflamed."

You pout. Quietly, you try to speak, but he shoots you a look you know too well.

"Y'know the procedure, Bambi."

You give a glance at the camera crew stuck at the door. The rule that Simon had firmly introduced and stuck to ever since the documentary had begun filming between the walls of your home — no cameras in your room, and none at the door if it was closed. The only reason its open now is because your manager had scolded him about the documentary not containing enough raw footage of what it was like to live in your skin. All of its current footage was made up of carefully nitpicked moments Simon allowed people to witness and nothing else.

Even this, you know, is eating away at him.

And at you, too.

It's shameful, to pull out your rusty signing skills when there are cameras there. When it's just you and Simon, it's.. different. You know he doesn't judge.

His hand tightens around your jaw a little. Nothing painful. But it jostles you back to reality, bringing your gaze back to him.

"Focus o'me. Just you and me." He whispers. You hope the cameras don't pick it up. Maybe, if you're lucky, they won't have. Afterall, you don't have mics strapped on — the whole crew had been sitting in your kitchen eating when Simon called your name, noticing (or hearing?) you tiptoeing to the bathroom for a drink, and none of them had had time to get mics on anyone because of how quickly it had all happened. Or, well, it could also be because he slammed the bathroom door closed and then proceeded to corner you in the bathroom until you admitted you couldn't sleep because your throat was hurting. He only let the cameras film you after you'd confirmed ten times over that you were okay with them filming you.

You start to go through the words in your head, translating them into jerky movements of your hands. He nods as you sign "it doesn't hurt anymore"

"That's the cough drops," he whispers, and his voice sounds so intimate that you want to melt into it. He tucks your blankets around you, and takes the hot pack from your bedside table, silently applying it to your throat.

With your performance just tomorrow where you're supposed to sing live, this is really not something you want. You get the flu too easily, you have a shit immune system, had always been like that since you were a kid, but today, it feels even more disappointing because it's ruining something important you'd been practicing for a very, very long time.

You hum. It feels tight in your throat, and you cough again, trying to alleviate the pressure.

"Alright, alright, get it out," he moves the two of you around until you're on your side, and he's sitting right beside you. You're curled around him, and he's patting your back, rubbing it soothingly. The flue meds would kick in soon enough — knock you out. But for now, you worry, and you're angry.

You stick your hands up at him. You sign too quickly — clumsily ; "told you we shouldn't have went to the award show. Someone there was sick as hell and we all know it was—."

As he glares at the cameras trying to catch what you're signing, he also expertly catches your hands and lowers them to his lap before you can do or say something stupid, warming them in his impossibly warm ones.

"Stop fussing," he grumbles quietly, probably meaning for it to sound reprimanding, but it comes out more like a plea. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."

You sigh, burrying your face in your blankets. He keeps rubbing your back.

You eventually dig yourself out of the blankets, fever making your body run hotter. He helps you move on top of them until you're laying on your back, your upper body raised by a shit ton of pillows. He sits next to you like you're on your death bed. Something about the situation makes you want to laugh, even though you're a bit upset.

He still holds your hands.

When his hold on them finally loosens, though, when he probably thinks you're finally succumbing to the medication, you move your hands up again and sign, calmly this time ; "sorry for waking you up."

He fixes some strands of hair that fall in your face, sticking to the beading sweat on your temples. He shakes his head, his face severe and strangely.. comforting. Every harsh slope, every cruel swipe of scars, every movement. It all feels like home to you. His hand lingers on your temple. Calloused and scarred too, but he touches you with so much gentleness you only feel the soft edges of his fingers.

"Sleep, kid." He finally murmurs. You know the cameras and the crew don't catch that. "Please. You'll feel better in the morning."

You doubt it, but you close your eyes, and let his presence sway you into sleep anyway.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x afab!reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #bodyguard!simon #bodyguard!ghost #famous!reader

[sacredtime]

If the boys had a chronically ill mate:

Possibly ooc

David: the minute he’s told (or realizes) Angel is chronically ill he internally panics and frets about them and how they treat themselves and how he treats them. He knows Angel has been living with this for a long time knowingly or not, their usual laidback attitude and usual lack of thought towards how they take care of themselves makes him concerned. He’ll focus more on making sure Angel is accommodated for in the home and they can be as comfortable as possible in their house.

David makes sure Angel is also treated well in day to day life. They come home complaining of how they’re getting treated or how they have to go into the doctor and how shit the doctor was to them when they told the doctor their problems he’ll come in next time as scary dog privilege and back up bullshit detector since unfortunately they’ll listen to him better than Angel. David is also on top of any medications and the conditions and location of possible mobility aids. Angel will never run out of medication or misplace any aids they need. If any of their medications have bad side effects or reactions with Angel David’s written it down in detail along with when they started it. Anything needs maintenance or needs to be replaced? There’s already an appointment set before Angel can forget or procrastinate about setting one.

Asher: Asher doesn’t worry like David, Babe is responsible and has their shit together out of the two and they probably have a steady routine; and despite his goofball, carefree personality he’s extra attentive to Babe once he’s told and help them see the positive side of things. Yeah he might try to get out of things but he’ll become their personal runner for anything, he’ll even ask David to try and teach him how to cook again so then Babe doesn’t have to make meals when they’re not up to it or has to power through making meals because Asher can’t really be trusted in the kitchen. He’ll also move anything around to make things manageable for Babe, he’ll also carry them and any mobility aids around if need be any time they ask.

Asher isn’t as intimidating as David off of looks alone, he lacks David’s murderer face, but he is very much a people person and I think he’s able to guilt trip people very well. Someone talks down to Babe or touches their things he makes the person feel so bad the person can’t help but apologize and depending on the situation avoid the two. He’s also naturally Babe’s biggest hype man, things are getting hard for Babe and he can’t do anything? He’s there encourage them and then comfort them after. Physio? Asher’s right beside them being literal support and not backing out no matter how hard they hold onto him or how much of their weight Babe puts on him. Asher is also great with positive reinforcement, if Babe struggles to take or remember to take pills he has a timer and little treats to make it all worth it and bearable few minutes.

Milo: Sweetheart is pretty self sufficient and tries to work through hell and high water so when they crash, they crash hard. When Milo realizes they have a chronic illness he makes it his mission to alleviate their stress and pain. He knows sweetheart is a workaholic and they are set well in their ways no matter how unhealthy it is. He has pain killers, massages and a good show/movie on hand. Even if Sweetheart tries to keep going despite everything Milo will pull out the big guns: ✨Aggro✨. He’ll plop the cat on their lap and sweetheart can help but stay put for as long as possible no matter how frustrating it is to be kept from their work. Milo also makes sure that in sweetheart’s work frenzy they eat well so they don’t feel even worse. He has ice packs, heating pads, pain killers and if worst comes to worst his mother to help manage sweetheart’s conditions.

Milo also makes sure he that they keep any mobility aids in arms reach for them. It’s not that sweetheart doesn’t acknowledge that they need them, it’s just that it’s another thing they have to bring with them that they also can’t cloak the aid so they try to go for as long as possible without it. He’ll start to nag if they’re at home and refuse to use it. Milo will also get sweetheart excellent comfy formal wear for work so they don’t have to wear anything uncomfortable or if they have braces they can wear them comfortably under their clothes and are able to look fashionable. I feel like sweetheart carries enough respect naturally with their job and just the attitude they have on their own they don’t need Milo’s help when it comes to disrespectful people and doctors in the empowered world but both would bounce off each other excellently and damn near kill someone with their words alone.

Sam: in short he is stressed. When Sam finds out Darlin has a chronic illness they shrug it off as ‘not that bad’ and that ‘everyone’s bodies do this.’ that if Sam weren’t a vampire and immortal he’d have had so many years taken off his life by the stress of this revelation alone he’d probably be on his deathbed. In the early stages of their relationship Darlin has nothing but a sketchy ziploc bag of Tylenol/Advil and a brace and/or cane from like Walmart. He goes all in looking for their medical history to confirm what they have if it’s there and if they should be on medication and then takes them in to the doctors for various tests whether they think it’s serious or not. Sam is there no questions to make sure Darlin goes to their appointments and he makes sure Darlin gets answers and proper treatments, he is unbelievably persistent and determined to get their health back on track. He is the ultimate mother hen early on and focuses on getting Darlin into better habits while also keeping them safe from their own recklessness.

Sam later in the relationship is far less stressed since Darlin is considerably more stable. He keeps tabs on their medicine still and can’t help but monitor their condition just incase they try to hide it again as to try and not worry him. In the rare time that Darlin finally crashes Sam comes in with old man comfort as they sit on the couch under a blanket. He uses his lack of body heat as a human sized ice pack, putting his hands on the areas that ache the most and apply subtle pressure while murmuring affirmations of how they’re still strong and how he doesn’t see them as lesser or love them any less for times like this.

If darlin has a cane and Sam picks it up Fred and bright eyes joke that it’s his now and to not rush his weary old man body and a whole bunch of grandpa jokes.

#redacted asmr #redacted headcanons #redacted asmr david #redacted angel #redacted david #redacted audio #redacted darlin #redacted asmr angel #redacted asher #redacted asmr asher #redacted asmr babe #redacted babe #redacted asmr milo #redacted milo #redacted asmr sweetheart #redacted sweetheart #redacted asmr sam #redacted sam #redacted asmr darlin #angel (listener) #babe (listener) #sweetheart (listener) #darlin (listener)

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ “i’ve got you..”

warnings: mentions of depression, restricted eating, descriptions of drug misuse.

summary: y/n can’t think of any other way to alleviate her pain. (this was a request, but i accidentally posted it instead of saving draft so the ask is gone.)

four days, it had been four days since rafe last heard from her, and he was starting to get anxious. the last time he saw her, she looked as though she wasn’t really there, more of a hollow shell than she’d ever been. he knew why, he knew she was spiralling, but she’d never disappeared on him like this before.

four days was a long time for them to not see each other, let alone not even exchange a phone call. rafe knew she needed some space, he knew she preferred to be left alone when everything came back up, and he was okay with that, as long as he knew she was okay. but this time, he didn’t. he had no clue.

he’d left phone calls, voicemails, texts, but to no avail. sighing, he swept a palm over his face in frustration, making the decision to just go over there.

he knew she’d be in, barry had called him a couple hours earlier to let him know he’d seen her on her way home from her shift at the wreck.

topper had also called him the day prior, having been to the wreck for some lunch with his mother. he took notice of her gaunt face which lacked colour and any sign of emotion. he made sure afterwards to pass this information onto rafe, letting him know she didn’t look good at all.

and it was true, she didn’t. she hadn’t been taking care of herself like usual, y/n couldn’t even remember the last thing she ate. she had no energy to wake up in the mornings, never mind eat and look after herself.

she settled on coffee and energy drinks to keep her going through the day, and then allowing herself to dissociate for hours when she got home.

the last few days y/n had been on autopilot. wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep…it felt like it would never end. the pain in her chest only grew when she thought about it.

she never thought doing a deep clean of her apartment would be so detrimental. coming across an old photo of her and her late brother as kids certainly wasn’t on her to do list, and have it uproot her life for the next few days wasn’t either.

she missed him dearly, not a day went by when she didn’t think about him, her big brother. and it hurt. it hurt so much to the point she was now trembling, looking at the crumbling pills in her hand.

they were old, but they were the next best thing compared to sweet nothingness. utter bliss, is how her friend had describe them to her when she bought them a few months prior.

her friend was somewhat of an expert when it came to downers, he knew his shit, and she trusted him not to give her anything that was too much or too little.

falling back against the couch, allowing the pills to slip down her throat with a sip of water, she waited patiently for them to kick in as she stared at the television.

rafe on the other hand, was on his way over, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel restlessly. he’d finally given in to his worries, too anxious to keep his promise of space.

he just had a bad feeling. sure, he’d seen her in all sorts of states before, she’d been through a lot, so he was bound to experience the highs and lows. but this, this was different. y/n had never shut him out like this before, and his stomach was doing flips every minute.

the range rover screeched to a half outside of her apartment building, the patter of rain echoing throughout the car as it landed on the roof.

pulling out the key, he twirled the bunch in his hand nervously before getting out to head inside. fortunately, her apartment was only on the second floor, so there wasn’t too many stairs to climb.

all measures of privacy were thrown out the window as he neared her door, pulling the spare key from his pocket.

he took note of the lack of noise in her apartment, hearing nothing but the television on an unusually low volume. it was eerily uncommon for y/n to not have music and the television on, as well as whatever devices she had in use in the kitchen.

his heavy footsteps padded through the hallway into the open living room where she sat, completely unaware of his presence. “y/n?” no response.

rounding the couch, he planted his feet in front of the television, causing her to jump at his sudden appearance. “y/n?” he asked again, his usually confident tone faltering.

“r-rafe…what…here?” she mumbled, her eyes flirting between him and the floor, barely open.

his mouth fell agape as he really took in her appearance. her cheeks were hollow and her eyes were unusually glassy, which was unfortunately familiar to him. he’d seen the same look in others eyes, completely catatonic.

slowly, he moved towards the couch, sitting down beside her to get a better idea of her current state of mind.

her head turned slowly to face him, still slumped against the back of the couch as a weak smile flashed across her lips.

“have you taken something?” he questioned, leaning closer to observe her. her head shook ambiguous, almost not answering his question as she reached a hand out.

looking down at her open palm, his jaw clenched as his eyes met the white residue left on her fingertips. “how many did you take?”

her hand trembled as she signalled a two with her fingers, her eyes now avoiding his.

pulling her in gently, he rested her head against his chest, his other arm reaching over her hips to pull her closer. she sank into his arms as he stroked her hair, pressing the odd kiss to the crown of her head.

“i wish you’d let me help you angel, i’d have been here in a heartbeat if i knew you needed me..” he muttered, his eyes now welling with hot tears.

tilting his head, he lay his cheek on top of her head as she rubbed hers against his chest, a silent nudge that she was listening.

her free hand clasped around his elbow, weakly pulling his hand from her head, his brows furrowing as she did. his confusion subsided as she interlocked her dainty fingers with his.

her eyes remained fixed on the television as they held each other, scared the other night fade away if they let go.

“i’m not going anywhere baby, ever. m’kay? i love you so much..” he whispered, a few stray tears seeping into the roots of her hair.

she nodded slightly against his chest in agreement, letting out a breath as he shuffled on the couch, moving to lie down. pulling her further onto him, she nuzzled into his arm as they lay there together, sharing silent tears.

“i love you y/n, more than you’ll ever know…”

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