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#five times text meme
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'✉' Neal, for Emma
meme: five times text meme status: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: Emma ] I'm sorry. [ unsent text: Emma ] I miss you. [ unsent text: Emma ] God, I miss you so much, Em. I hope you find them. Your parents. I hope it's everything you dream about, and you find Tallahassee and - [ unsent text: Emma ] what could a thief ever do for a princess? [ unsent text: Emma ] Guess I'm a coward just like my dad, huh? [ text: Emma ] I'm so sorry, Emma. (this number has been deleted.)
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littlebennettbitch · 5 months
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meme: five times text meme status: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: unknown ] do you think you can pick me up? [ unsent text: unknown ] that did not go through [ unsent text: not Abby ] one digit off? [ unsent text: not Abby ] and still you answered. huh. [ unsent text: Neal Cassidy ] how are you more prompt with replies than my mother
[ text: Neal ] best place for pizza in New York?
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dwarfstaralloy · 5 months
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'✉' (ofhawknests)
meme: five times text meme status: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: C. Barton ] how did you even get my number [ unsent text: C. Barton ] for that matter how did I get your number [ unsent text: the hawk ] buddy bud bud you never miss do you? [ unsent text: the hawk the legend the man ] shoot straight [ unsent text: the hawk the legend the man ] 'shoot straight'? OBVIOUSLY RAYMOND [ text: Clint ] see you soon.
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sheepydraws · 11 months
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So much time is spent hinting that Gwen and Hobie have a relationship Miles is/should be jealous of, but I would bet a million dollars Hobie has had to listen to hours of Gwen disjointedly rambling about Miles as "the coolest guy ever, I mean, not as cool as you, but a different kind of cool, like you're neon night cool and he's like sunshine cool, and I'm never going to see him again, even though I could, but I won't, but I hope he's okay and still as cool as I remember" while he tactfully does not mention how down bad she is
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teruel-a-witch · 1 year
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steve: this is my partner, detective danny williams, now, does that mean i have a boyfriend who happens to be a detective or we are cops or maybe, perhaps, both? yes.
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today in steve's lessons™: when introducing your boyfriend partner to an old friend of your father's it's important to stroke his shoulder and back and then hold him closer in case a hawk swoops in and steals him, while you look away, i guess?
bonus you ain't fooling no one:
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vacantseance · 1 year
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Timey Wimey.
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betty-fazbear · 6 months
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anyway, i was tracking the shipment of the Hex Puppet plushie i ordered and made this meme
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konnfusion · 10 months
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I had a vision and had to execute it
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ditterbutter · 8 months
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.
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eddiernunson · 3 months
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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |
Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.
Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink
Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).
Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype
Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️
As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.
As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.
She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.
She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.
The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.
The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.
Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.
Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.
Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.
For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.
Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.
Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.
His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.
As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.
Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.
The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.
Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.
You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.
Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.
Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.
You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.
More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.
Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.
About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.
Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.
Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.
This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.
It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.
-
Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.
As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.
He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.
The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.
All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!
It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.
He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.
He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.
It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.
Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.
After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.
It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.
Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.
As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.
As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.
Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.
Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.
You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.
By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.
Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.
-
As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.
The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.
Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.
Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.
As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.
The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.
“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.
His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.
Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”
He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.
Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.
“How’s your arm?”
“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.
He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.
“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.
How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”
“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”
His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”
“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”
“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”
He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”
“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.
He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.
As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.
As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.
It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.
“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?
Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.
As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.
Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.
You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.
“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”
“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.
“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”
Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.
“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.
Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.
“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.
“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”
He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”
Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”
“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”
“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”
“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”
You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”
Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.
He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”
You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.
So much bigger, too.
You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”
You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.
“Oh…shit.”
This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.
“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”
“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”
You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.
You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”
It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”
The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.
Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”
He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”
He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”
His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”
You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”
He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”
“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.
His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”
“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”
His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.
You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”
Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”
The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”
Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.
“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.
It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.
“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.
He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”
You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.
His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”
Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.
He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”
You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.
“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.
“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”
“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.
“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.
“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.
He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”
“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”
You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.
He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.
“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.
“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.
“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.
You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”
He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”
You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.
“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.
You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”
“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.
“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”
“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.
Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”
“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.
His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.
“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.
“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”
He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.
“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.
“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”
“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.
“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”
Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”
He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.
Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”
You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”
“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”
“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.
“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.
“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”
You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.
The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.
He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.
Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.
Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.
You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.
-
Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr
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bomberqueen17 · 1 year
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tone indicators
I reblogged this post without adding any commentary bc queue and not a lot of computer time lately but like okay here's the thing about tone indicators:
they're yet another in-group set of coded speech. like an inside joke, or a meme, or a conlang. if you are in a group that uses them, they're great and perfectly comprehensible.
but if you don't happen to have come from inside a group that uses them, they are exactly as exclusionary as any other heavy jargon or inside joke or acronym. I mean have you ever listened to soldiers talk? The US Army communicates in heavily jargon-ified speech, liberally laden with acronyms, so much so that it's a self-referential joke to make up obscene or deliberately-obfuscated ones to slip into official reports since the sorts of people who'd kick up a fuss about obscene language won't understand them.
It is exactly the same thing. Except that's exclusionary on purpose, and tone indicators are exclusionary in effect but tout themselves as inclusionary.
So if I, an outsider to this, am reading along, and after a sentence, there's a / and then between one and three letters, that is not enough information for me to use to look it up.
This is absolutely inaccessible if you are not alreadhy in the group that uses it.
I wouldn't mind if the people who used them were just like 'oh ha sorry jargon, i'll try to explain if it's not clear, sorry i forget you guys don't know them' just like any other inside joke or meme or whatever.
But I was in a discussion with someone on a Discord and when I was puzzled about them including these weird slash-acronyms after their statements they were like oh how nice for you that you're not neurodivergent and don't need to use these.
Uh no. The opposite actually. I'm the kind of neurodivergent that needs context. I handle being excluded from conversations very poorly. And that's where I get pissed off, that people seem to be holding these up as the new be-all end-all of Finally Solving The Problem Of Ambiguous Tones In Social Interaction. The hell you are, kids. They're just another layer, and I'd say the worst one yet, out of many many many attempts to solve this exact problem. They are fundamentally inaccessible. Don't mistake the fact that you learned them (somewhere, in some context inaccessible to me) for them actually being universal.
Considered against the many different solutions that have been offered since text-only speech was invented, tone indicators stack up as among the very least-accessible of the lot, since they contain so little context in and of themselves-- if a key is not provided then they're totally inaccessible, and are exceptionally difficult for non-native English speakers, and in general require so much memorization or cross-referencing as to be prohibitively hostile to outsiders.
And that's fine, if what your'e doing is just meant for talking to your friends. But don't come into my conversations and berate me for not having memorized whatever incomprehensible set of acronyms you've newly-decided are the new universal truth. And what drives me the most insane is how many of these acronyms someone has now decided to assign a whole new meaning to are acronyms that are well-known and already existed and are in heavy use. So if you try to look them up guess what you get! is it gonna be the newly-created version or the one that's been in use for fifty to seventy-five years??
For one, P.O.S. has had a specific meaning in written and spoken English for a really damn long time and if you call me a piece of shit in the actual language I speak I am absolutely not going to interpret your conlang as having intended something nice. (YES REALLY THEY'RE USING THAT ONE TRY TO GUESS WHAT IT MEANS. NO. NO! I know. Fuck! That's wild. Absolutely the fuck not.)
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Note
'✉' (cnfrmdkll @ will)
meme: five times text meme status: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: big J ] Your dad is a dick, kiddo, alright? [ unsent text: big J ] My house is always open to you kids. [ unsent text: big J ] I'd take you two in if I could. Damn, don't know if you'd believe me if I said that. [ unsent text: big J ] Don't get shot, it's not fun. Also painkillers are like, the greatest invention on the planet. [ unsent text: big J ] Would I be the coolest uncle if you knew I met alien robots or nah? [ text: big J ] Key's under the flower pot, kid. Make yourself at home.
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littlebennettbitch · 5 months
Note
'✉'
meme: five times text memestatus: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: Faith ] so you know the spell i promised i wouldn't do alone? [ unsent text: Faith ] yeah, i did it. [ unsent text: Faith ] okay, no need to panic. [ unsent text: Faith ] am i saying that to you or myself [ unsent text: Faith ] fuck. [ text: Faith ] you wouldn't happen to have a ceremonial dagger i could borrow, would you?
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dwarfstaralloy · 5 months
Note
'✉' x
meme: five times text meme status: accepting (from mutuals)
[ unsent text: Maeve ] don't freak out [ unsent text: Maeve ] that is a HORRIBLE WAY to start a message ray [ unsent text: Maeve ] wassup doc [ unsent text: Maeve ] not doing that [ unsent text: Maeve ] god i hope these aren't going through [ text: Maeve ] is there anything i can do to help?
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augustinewrites · 1 year
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“just leave me alone!” 
megumi storms off towards his room as gojo’s easygoing expression falls away instantly, leaving you conflicted as to who you should check on first. (which is difficult to do when you remember that thirteen year old boys hate talking about their emotions almost as much as twenty-five year old ones do.)
you decide that megumi needs a few minutes to cool down, so you step into the kitchen first, where your fiancé is tearing open a new bag of candy a little more harshly than necessary. you lean your hip against the counter as he murmurs a greeting. 
“what was that about?” you ask. 
“he hates me,” he shrugs. 
“he’s a thirteen year old boy. he hates everybody,” you point out, but it fails to make him laugh like you’d intended. instead, his frown only deepens and he mutters,
“he doesn’t hate you.” 
you tilt your head slightly. “is that what this is about? me being his favourite?”
“i don’t know,” he sighs. “i…i just can’t seem to connect with him the way you’ve always been able to.”
“that’s not true,” you say quickly, unsure of what exactly you can say to make him feel better. it’s not like him to be so insecure. “you guys have had your moments.”
“not lately. i just keep pissing him off,” he huffs, unwrapping and popping a piece of candy into his mouth. “did i do something?” 
you open up the fridge to pull some ingredients for lunch, sighing. “i don’t think so, but nanami, shoko, and i were texting about it the other day—”
“wait, you’re in a group chat with nanami and shoko?”
“oh yeah,” you nod, setting your vegetables on the counter. “it’s mostly memes, but sometimes we talk about how messed up you are.”
he blinks at you a few times before muttering that you’d get back to that later. “what’d they say?” 
“they quoted a lot of freud, but the gist of it was that it’s normal for fathers and sons to butt heads.”
he frowns deeply at that. “so what should i do?”
“be patient. he’ll come around eventually.”
“easy for you to say,” he huffs. “you’re the only mother figure he’s ever known. he’s already had a dad.”
“satoru, he’s thirteen. he’s officially been with us longer than he was with toji.” 
you study his conflicted expression as he turns that information over in his mind. “okay, how about this? i was going to take him to the mall to buy new clothes after lunch, but why don’t you go with him instead?”
“that’s a great idea!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together excitedly. “i’ll take him to the bookstore too! can you find out what’s on his reading list?” 
“he’s not a little kid anymore,” you remind him. “you can’t just buy his affection with a new book.”
“i’ll buy him two, then.” 
“i love where your heart is at,” you start slowly. “but you just…have to give him space to let him come to you.”
he groans loudly, coming up behind you to press his forehead into the crook of your neck. you smile, tilting your head to the side and reaching up to pat his hair. 
“i guess this is good practice for when we have our own kid,” he mutters, stiffening when he feels your hand still in his hair.
“our own kid, huh? so does that mean you’re done bringing home strays?” 
“you three are all i need,” he tells you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “whatever happens next…is just a bonus.” 
BONUS:
[you] [1 attachment]
[nanami] Why is he dressed like Gojo?
[shoko]: like father like son huh
[you] satoru had a quarter-life crisis yesterday. just a small one. 
[shoko] i’m not surprised. his life is like a shakespearean tragedy.
[nanami] That is accurate.
[you] he’s trying to bond with megumi.
[shoko] by dressing him like he’s emotionally unavailable?
[you] what does that even mean?
[shoko] the sunglasses
[you] ?
[nanami] Elaborate further, please.
[shoko] eyes are the windows to the soul. 
[nanami] (the more you know gif)
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itaipava · 7 months
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— how f1 boys would act when crushing on someone.
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˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS
tries to become your best-friend. and makes sure everyone knows you two are close. actually plays it cool but secretly thinks of you 24/7. tries to deny his feelings and puts himself in the friend-zone so that it hurts less when and if you do. sometimes, his eyes subconsciously drop to your lips when talking to you. always invites you to hang-outs with his friends and unintentionally ends up ignoring or forgetting everyone else and mostly just talks to you or sticks with you. always tries to match your pace when walking together.
˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO
casually flirts with you a lot but does so in a joking or playful manner. slow to realize his feelings but doesn’t bother hiding it once he does. goes out of his way to spend time with you and talk to you. so many little touches like slight brushes of the fingertips, a light rub of shoulders, or a game of footsie under the table. is endearingly protective over you and defends you a lot. asks you to text or call him when you get home, or often offers to walk you home himself. unknowingly smiles so big while texting you and lowkey gets embarrassed when someone points it out or when he notices his own reflection in his phone screen.
˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ
looks at you like you must be protected at all costs, but also admires you and thinks highly of you. notices your little quirks and habits, and finds them cute. wants your opinion on things because he cares about what you think. wants to be updated about your life and keeps you updated about his. lots of eye contact. soft yet deep and intense gazes. unintentionally becoming more goofy and energetic around you. smiling uncontrollably when someone mentions your name or when he gets teased about his crush on you. always picking you first for his team when playing games with friends.
˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC
is actually timid about liking you, and tries to teat you like just another friend because he doesn’t want to be too obvious. does subtle things like tagging you in funny posts, or remembering your favorite cake flavor and buying you one on your birthday. throws surprise parties or celebrations for you — your birthday? surprise! you just finished your exams? surprise, again! sends you memes and tiktok videos at 3 a.m. his words are neutral but his body language shows his feelings; can’t look at you directly without getting slightly flustered, especially when you’re in public or when surrounded by friends. sometimes becomes tongue-tied in the most adorable way when talking to you.
˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON
becomes more talkative and tends to ask a lot of questions about you. he tries not to overdo it but he’s just genuinely curious and interested. tries to find excuses to hold your hand; subtly grasping your hand just a little longer after a high-five or asks for your hand so that he can “read your palm” or compares hand sizes for the hundredth time. lingering gazes and touches when you’re around people. always buys you little snacks that you like. if you just casually makes a comment about how a certain color looks great on him, he remembers that and wears that color even more around you.
˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI
more smiley around you but is also generally chill. always tries to initiate conversations with you and keeps it flowing. he’s slow to realize his feelings, so his friends are more likely to notice it first. loves to tease you and loves it even more when you tease back. the type that probably won’t look away when you make contact but also gets flustered and a little annoyed when someone interrupts the moment. initiates hang-outs with just the two of you and likes to take you to his favorite spots, but claims that it’s not a date unless you want it to be.
˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN
enjoys teasing you, but in a good-natured way; pinches your cheeks and ruffles your hair; steals the last piece of chips from you, only to buy you a whole new bag afterwards. showers you with compliments and also likes to help you with things — basically becomes your cheerleader and personal assistant. his voice or tone changes when talking to you, like he might be mad at someone and talking to them in an angry tone but as soon as he turns to speak to you, his voice becomes softer and sweeter. stalks your social media because you’re so beautiful and he can’t get enough of you. and he always comments on your posts, even if it’s a provocative comment, but he’s always there.
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