Someone: You Can't Do Everything Your Friends Do. If They Jumped Off A Bridge, Would You--

had a dream about getting addicted to vaseline on toast. my girlfriend crying, begging me to stop eating "that miserable greasy toast"

(Estoy usando un traductor, lo siento por cualquier error).

Please reblog if you vote! Por favor comparte si votas!

If translations for other languages can be added, that would be greatly appreciated! (I'm North American so I'm mostly only familiar with English and Spanish.)

dorlily are so all girls school academic rivals to lovers angry love confessions secret relationships girlies!!!

via likeafunerall on insta

Sirius: Why is Harry standing in the corner?

Ron: Remus and Harry were arguing, Harry lost his temper and told Remus he hated him. Remus said he wasn’t surprised because he hated himself too. Harry was so distraught that he grounded himself

My History as a Baby Witch

Hello, I'm Nikki! I'm 24 out of Florida. I'm a Baby Witch.

I started my magical journey 8 years ago back when I was 16. I fell in love with Wicca as soon as I heard about it. I loved the beliefs, I loved the freedom, I loved the mystery of it all, and I loved the idea of witchcraft. I realized right then and there that I felt at home as a Wiccan.

I lived in a very Christian family and had to practice in secrecy for a very long time. I learned a lot of things. Color correspondences, candle magic, sigils, and kitchen magic. It helped me keep my practice hidden but it also stunted my growth as a witch.

Now that I can practice openly I've come to Tumblr to seek information and to possibly join a community that can guide me through this journey of becoming a witch and learning more about witchcraft.

If you have any information you'd like to share whether it be a community to join, information on altars or other types of magic, or anything else please feel free to reach out to me. I'll try to respond as quickly as I can.

With that said:

Bide the Wiccan law ye must, in perfect love, in perfect trust. Eight words the wiccan rede fulfill; if ye harm none, do as ye will. Ever mind the rule of three; what thee sends out comes back times three. Follow this with mind and heart. Merry ye meet, merry ye part.

Update 1 (9/14/2024):

Since writing this first post I've definitely reflected on my beliefs and have learned of the injustices of Wicca. I no longer feel comfortable calling myself Wiccan and have instead found myself as a Hellenic Pagan. I do not stand for cultural appropriation and I'm taking steps to undo any injustices that I may have done while Wiccan.

Fictober Day 9

“You need to pay better attention.”

Stranger things, Steddie, friends AND lovers, Steve tutors Eddie (unsuccessfully), soft!Eddie

Prompt thanks to this blog

“You need to pay better attention, Eds.” Steve sighs as Eddie hands him his report card with a frown, the paper crumpled from being at the bottom of the bag.

“But look! I got a C in english!” He exclaims, trying desperately to distract him from the F's in math and science.

Steve shakes his head with a fond smile, pulling Eddie down to sit next to him as he looks over the grades.

“I swear I thought we went over this stuff, babe. What did you struggle with?”

Eddie shrugs, leaning into Steve's side, pressing his face in his shoulder. “I dunno. Its just hard.”

Steve frowns, glancing over at him when he notices Eddie's withdrawing tone. “Lets drop this for now, okay?”

Eddie nods, standing as he pulls Steve up and towards his room, discarding his boots as soon as they're through the door. Steve follows promptly and lets Eddie pull him to lay on the bed.

Steve's face is in Eddie's hair, the boys face shoved into his chest. He smiles softly, pulling him closer, running his hand soothingly over his back.

“How'd your day go, baby?” Steve asks, pressing gentle kisses to the top of Eddie's head.

“Alright, I guess. D&D had to be canceled, though.” Eddie scoffs, tightening his grip around Steve's waist. “Some stomach bug is going around.”

“Aw I'm sorry, Eds. But it can always be rescheduled once everyone's feeling better, okay?”

Eddie nods, pressing a kiss to Steve's cheek.

“I know. How bout you? How was your day, Stevie?” Eddie asks, his voice slowly turning into a mumble.

Steve smiles and begins on how his day went, rambling on and on. But after a bit, he notices that Eddie went unnaturally quiet. He smiles softly when he realizes that the boy was fast asleep.

He moves him to lay back, unbuckling his belt and putting it to the side, along with his various rings and necklaces. He covers him up and presses a kiss to his forehead before getting up and rummaging through Eddie's drawers for clothes he could change into.

Once he finds something, he lays down next to Eddie, pulling him into his arms, smiling softly as he falls asleep.

“I'm proud of you, Eddie.” He mumbles, dozing off.

The Watermelon Woman 1996, dir. Cheryl Dunye

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 — squirting

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: shy!reader (not "innocent" or inexperienced, just a little more reserved). penetrative sex.

Chrissy didn't know what she was doing.

It was an innocent question — as innocent as the questions being raised could be, that night. The conversation had quickly descended into more risqué subjects after Steve had gotten a little too tipsy and started complaining about his lack of luck on his latest escapades.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really. You were all used to talking about sex in one way or another. Eddie was famously loud about it, always having a story to tell, his or otherwise. Stories that made you imagine yourself on the receiving end of, guiltily wanting your friend to do those same things he was describing to you.

You kept those fantasies to yourself, though. Not wanting to be teased by the girls, maybe even worse, have them try to set you up with him. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if Eddie ever rejected you, or dated you out of pity. There was no scenario where this would work in your mind, no "you and Eddie", just you and your thoughts of him, where he would never hurt you, where all he did was make you feel good, imagining it his hands on your body, roaming until they found that place between your legs, instead of your own.

That night, it was no different. After Steve started the conversation, there was no stopping it. You often listened more than talked — not due to lack of experience, you were just a little too shy to share too much, even among close friends — but when the talk switched to Robin commenting about making her girlfriend squirt, you slipped.

"Good for her."

Your reply may have sounded a little more bitter than you'd anticipated, because, one by one, all of your friends looked at you. Maybe it was the scoff that has left your mouth, maybe it was the alcohol that had loosened your tongue. 

"What was that?" Nancy asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you.

"Yeah. What was that?" This time, it was Eddie who repeated her question. He sat on the opposite couch with his legs spread, tight black jeans stretching on his lean legs, making you wish you sat between them. You avoided his eyes.

"Nothing. I mean…", you signed, already regretting having said anything, "it's good! Good for her. Robin is good to her, that's a good thing."

You cringed even before you could finish all those convoluted sentences.

"Honey, have you ever… you know," Chrissy asked from her place on the floor, sitting as delicate as a fairy. "squirted?"

"No." You said, simply. Scared to run your mouth even more. "It's not a big deal. Doesn't happen to everybody."

"Have you tried?" Steve asked from behind his beer. He got a myriad of answers ranging from "that's not how It works, dingus!" from Robin, "it's not a matter of trying" from Nancy and "don't ask that, dude" from Eddie.

"I don't even know where to start, Steve. And before anyone asks, yes, I have cum from sex. Just not… like that."

You wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. It was even worse when you could feel Eddie's eyes on you, like he could see right through you. He tilted his head, and you weren't able to handle the kindness in his brown eyes. You looked away.

Your friends' opinions diverged again, making questions and trying to get you to speak, but you couldn't deal with their scrutiny anymore.

"C'mon, guys. It's fine! Can we change the subject, please?" You tried to swerve them. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. Maybe I'm just broken like that."

They shrugged. You shrugged. They moved on — but Eddie's eyes stayed on you for the rest of the night.

You're on Eddie's passenger seat, right in front of your apartment building, later that night when he brings the subject up again.

"I don't think you're broken."

The two of you had spent the entire ride silent, which was odd since Eddie was the chatterbox between the two of you, always filling the gaps with anything that would cross his mind. Neither that, nor his music filled the silence between you.

"What?" You looked at him, still not believing what you'd heard.

"You said that maybe you were broken like that. That's not true, you're… you're perfect."

That feeling of wanting to hide came back tenfold, making your eyes fill with tears. "Eddie, forget about it, please."

"Hey," he brought your gaze back to him with a finger to your chin, delicately turning your head. "I meant what I said. You're perfect, it's just that no one's taken the time to treat you right. It takes patience, from both sides."

"Yeah, and?"

"I was thinking that maybe I could change that. If you'd let me."

One thing you'd always admired about Eddie was his strength of conviction. He never said anything he didn't believe in, and backed it all up. His voice never faltered, he doesn't shy away from speaking his mind — and you hated that you were forcing yourself to disbelieve him.

"Eddie…"

"Look at me." He pleaded, and in spite of your concerns, you did as he told. His eyes bore into your with a sincerity that was so painfully him. "You can say no. I'll go home and we'll forget about everything I just said. But, sweetheart… I'm dying to prove you wrong."

Eventually, he did.

After you'd gotten up the stairs to your floor kissing and tugging at each other's clothes, letting Eddie's tongue taste yours over and over, stopping to let yourself be cornered against the wall by him. Getting lost in the feeling of his solid body against yours, the smell of him — a strong, masculine perfume, cigarettes and beer — making you dizzy, his lips on your neck making you even dizzier.

After he took your clothes off halfway down your living room, reverencing your body with his rough hands, kneeling between your feet in the middle of your halfway. He made you cum for the first time that night with his mouth, kissing your pussy the way he kissed your mouth, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your tongue. You came as you pulled his hair, his strong arms around your hips preventing you from falling.

After he guided you to your bed, still craving a taste of you. Hands not knowing where to sit still while he pulled another orgasm from you, his fingers deep within you, curling and stroking your walls, his mouth still not leaving your clit. Your ears buzzed with the force of your climax, not being able to hear Eddie's praise. "That's my girl," he said, head resting on the plush of your thigh, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, "doing such a good job, but I'm not done with you yet."

After he made your eyes blur with pleasure when you finally entered you, rubbing the head of his cock on your sensitive bundle of nerves, once, twice, three times before putting it in, slowly bottoming out. Leaving kisses all over your face, shining with sweat. You didn't think you could take it, curling your toes and hugging his narrow hips with your spread legs, feeling each thrust with a tenderness you never did before.

After he filled and stretched you to the brim, pulling out only to push it all in again. Uttering against your skin, broken whimpers, your name on his lips like a prayer. You were beyond the point of forming words, kissing him to stop yourself from screaming. You could feel yourself dripping down your pussy, and into the sheets, soaking Eddie's cock.

After he pulled your thigh higher up his waist, and stood on his knees, pounding into you with measured speed. He hit your spot over, and over, and over — you grabbed the sheets with both hands, repeating his name like a broken record, music to his ears.

"Yeah? That feels good, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Eddie looked like a god above you. Wild hair down to his shoulders, pale skin slick with sweat, eyes drilled on you. You made the mistake of looking down to where your bodies met, watching his thick cock drenched with your juices, going in and out of you. His pubic hair, also matted with your wetness, creating a delicious friction against your clit. "Tell me. Who's making you feel this good?"

"You, Eddie." You whimpered. "You, you, you. Always you."

"That's right, baby. That's" a hard thrust, "fucking," a a squeeze of your thigh, "right."

You felt your orgasm approach with a  deep pressure on your navel, building and building until you couldn't keep It down anymore. You let yourself go, the ringing in your ears louder and cleared, cumming with Eddie's name on your lips.

That's when you felt it. You were limp in your bed, with Eddie above you. You'd felt him cum too, dropping his weight above you, but still keeping himself steady by his elbows. but everything was distant, like it was happening in a dream. Slowly, you came back to yourself — to Eddie, gently coaxing you with sweet words, and to the warm wetness coating your thighs, your ass, and Eddie's lower half.

"Did I…?"

"Fuck yeah, you did." His boyish smile, so different from the confident smirk you saw not moments ago, made you smile too, weakly and still a little embarrassed, but too satisfied to care.

"Happy now?"

"Only when you do it again."