the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.
sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.
you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.
it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.
but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.
they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.
they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.
barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.
and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.
but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.
they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily preverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!
this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.
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Steve wakes up around three or four in the morning almost every night. He’s always careful getting out of bed. Small movements, slow footsteps. Minimal bones cracking. Doesn’t want to wake Eddie. Not that he needs to be this careful because his boyfriend could sleep through several natural disasters (and if someone bothered to wake him in this scenario, he’d put an impotency curse on them or some equally fucked-up shit).
But that’s one of the reasons why they work. Not because of the sad-dick curse thing. They just exist on different sides of the scale. The raging insomniac and the deepest sleeper known to mankind. It balances out in the weirdest possible way.
Still… he’s always careful. Can never be too careful.
Steve doesn’t really do much when he wakes up at this ungodly hour. He sort of walks around their duplex, drinks a glass of water, opens a window to breathe in that pre-sunrise air. It fills his lungs up differently than normal air. At least, it feels like it does.
Like less people are breathing it in. Like he can take up space without feeling selfish. The logic doesn’t really add up but whatever. Concepts like logic and science are overrated at four in the morning.
After another lap around the place, he slides back into the covers, drapes an arm over Eddie’s waist. His t-shirt is rumpled up to his chest, so Steve is met with linen-warm skin. His fingers curve into Eddie’s sides, pulling himself closer.
Steve yawns, breathing out all of his pre-sunrise air. Inhales the scent of his boyfriend instead. Smiles like an idiot into the pillow because it’s totally a fair trade.
And Eddie… well, he doesn’t even budge - doesn’t even stir when Steve settles in next to him. He just continues to wheeze through his nose, mouth slightly open. Not quite a snore, but Steve will probably tease him about it in the morning regardless.
This right here. This makes Steve’s shitty sleep cycle worth it.
The sun pokes through the window blinds. Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek. Too much poking going on for Steve who definitely didn’t get enough sleep, per usual.
“You got up last night.” Eddie mumbles, still lazily poking him.
“How’d you know?”
“Bed felt different.”
Oh. The way Eddie says it. A crash of honesty. His voice sounds weathered, unused from sleeping. Barely awake. It sort of hits Steve’s heart like a crime he didn’t even know he was capable of committing.
Honestly, he doesn’t get why last night would be any different. Steve gets up most nights, not just last night. But Eddie looks particularly wounded by this (new) realization, so Steve probably shouldn’t point that out right now. Maybe in the afternoon when Eddie is more alert. Less… offended.
“Well, I’m back now.” Steve grabs Eddie’s index finger, the one poking him, and places it over his own lips. Bites at it gently till Eddie pulls away in protest. He’s smiling as he swears. Lets out a string of half-hearted threats about how he’s gonna pour Steve’s hair supplies down the sink for such a vicious attack.
It’s a little irresistible when Eddie gets like this. When he’s the pouty one instead of Steve. All he can think to do is reach out, curl his hand underneath Eddie’s chin and pull him in. Eddie moves so easily, gives up his one-sided fight long enough to kiss Steve. Hands running up his back, legs hooking around Steve’s thighs.
Drowsy, morning kisses are so good. So, so good. Their lips feel heavier, their motions feel thicker. Every touch is guided by pure need. Steve fucking needs this, to feel Eddie curving into him, arms framing his own, groaning every damn time they break away. It all makes Steve feel needed too. Needed by the guy who changed the trajectory of his life by asking Steve to ‘hang out or something’ two years ago.
Or Something turned out to be absolutely everything.
“New rule.” Eddie huffs, drags his lips down Steve’s jaw. “For every hour you spend awake during the night, you owe me.”
Steve laughs. “I owe you, huh?”
“Mhmm. You owe me an extra hour of wallowing in bed together in the morning.”
“What about work?”
“The hours will have to rollover, I guess. Accrue interest.” Eddie lifts up from Steve’s neck, eyebrows raised. Clearly having too much fun with this. “We can hash out the details over coffee and burnt toast.”
Typically, Steve would play along, continue the little comedy routine that Eddie starts up. But he’s so damn tired from the lack of sleep and early fucking wake-up call. So instead, he tugs Eddie back down by his collar and whispers, “Whatever you say, baby.”
Because that’s what it boils down to. He’d do anything for Eddie to kiss him this deep, till their lips blister and their jaws ache. Steve would give every fragment of lovesick happiness in his heart, just to hear the way Eddie says his name all breathy and raw.
He can’t say that out loud, dear god no. Eddie would mock his ass into next century. So Steve just hums into Eddie’s mouth, twists the collar of his shirt enough to permanently wrinkle it. They’re verging into that gray area between cable-approved makeout sessions and dry humping till the alarm goes off. If there wasn’t an alarm to worry about, Steve would already have Eddie’s boxers already his ankles and moaning his name the way he likes it best.
Whoever invented alarm clocks are the ultimate boner-killer.
Steve ducks his head into the crook of Eddie’s neck, lays a few quick kisses on top of his shoulder. Hopes that translates to, ‘I wanna suck you off till there’s nothing left, but I’m a boring fucking adult with a boring fucking job.’
The translation must be clear enough because Eddie rolls off of him and heads to the bathroom. Seems just as grumpy about it as Steve. Good. They can be cranky together.
When he comes back out, they get ready for their respective work shifts. Steve looks over, watches Eddie struggle with a tangled portion of his hair, before giving up. Accepting defeat way faster than Steve ever would. “Uh, Eddie?” He tries his best to hide his snickering through the question.
“Yeah?”
“Why does it matter if I wake up sometimes?” Okay. Most times.
“You’re gone.” Eddie shrugs. “Simple as that.”
The reaction is too mellow for Eddie though. Shrugging and dismissiveness? Nah. He’s downplaying the shit out of whatever he’s feeling, and Steve’s not having it.
“What do you mean it’s simple?”
“It’s just… I don’t know. Doesn’t seem fair.” Eddie checks the clock, then sighs. “I want more time.”
More time? More time with Steve or more time in general? Either way, it doesn’t add up. They’re young - they have all the fucking time they could ever want. Also, they live together and have all the same friends. It’s not exactly a logical theory.
Then again, neither is Steve’s ‘pre-sunrise air supply’ theory. None of it makes sense. But at least they’re here. Wanting fresh air and each other. That’s enough logic for a lifetime.
“Hey.” Steve walks over and takes Eddie’s hand. He taps over his ring finger, the one that symbolizes something they can’t have. Not now, not in this society. Still. It means something. So he stares intently at it, rubs over the place where a ring might sit. Thinks that Eddie would pick out something bold. Something gaudy and perfectly him.
More time. Steve gets it, he does. He releases Eddie’s hand and nods. Smiles.
“I’ll steal us as much time as I can, Eddie Munson.”
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18+ content pls dni if you’re a minor !! this is longer than i originally planned it out to be…this was supposed to be small little thoughts but yep have this
(mommy kink (n), puppy/pup (r), use of toys, d/s dynamic, reader is afab, guided masturbation)
natasha being away on a mission telling you to be good and not touch what’s hers until she’s back but day after day the ache gets unbearable and you can’t help but give in a start touching yourself. getting lost in the pleasure you don’t notice natasha coming back home and now her standing in the doorway until she clears her throat. she smirks at the way your face changes so quickly from pleasure to fear and shame of being caught.
before you can even begin to stutter out apologies, she’s already next to you softly stroking your cheek lulling you into a false sense of security that she isn’t mad. next thing you know her fingers are in your mouth pushing them in deeper making you gag around them slightly
‘well puppy, don’t stop just because i’m here, keep going’ smirking, a low chuckle at the hesitation on your face. not knowing whether she was setting you up, knowing you’d already broken her first rule you might as well try to be good and listen to her now. natasha smiles, removing her fingers, watching you start to rub your clit again. listening to your whines and whimpers, her favourite sound.
she would talk you through touching yourself, sitting back watching how her words, mixed praises with hints of degrading, was coaxing you further into sub space. telling you how fast to rub your clit, telling you to slow down once you got close. how many fingers, slowly making you stretch yourself out, keeping you on edge until you managed to get three inside you, ‘be a good pup, make a mess all over yourself for me’ allowing you to cum.
‘good girl, such a shame you can’t follow instructions any other time’ being so deep in your headspace you didn’t register her words properly, thinking the minimal edging was all your punishment consisted of.
until the next time natasha had to leave you by yourself for the day. you didn’t want her to leave and it was the morning so it was easy to get you spread out naked on the bed. grabbing one of her suit belts she swiftly ties your hands together and to the headboard ‘my pretty girl, look at you all spread out for mommy,’ running her hands all over your body, groping your breasts, pulling and rolling your nipples between her fingers, sliding her fingers through your folds dipping the tips or her fingers into you before pulling away completely. grabbing a vibrating wand and tying it to your thigh making sure it’s pressed right against your clit before turning it on, ‘it’s a shame i have to leave such a pretty little thing’
you’d be whining and pleading with her to stay, ‘mommy will be back soon doll, be good for me. maybe my sweet princess will learn to listen after this’ she’d give you a kiss on her forehead, stroking your cheek gently before leaving.
natasha would never be gone for long, and she’d have cameras set up so she could keep an eye on you, making sure you’d be okay. you know she’d have everything voice activated if she was gone so you could still use your safewords and everything would slow down or stop depending on which you used. despite it being a punishment natasha would always remind you to never be afraid to use your safewords always praising when you do.
after coming back home she’d marvel and admire you before making her presence known. always telling you how pretty you look all fucked out for her. her precious girl. mumbling incoherently she’d swiftly turn off and untie the vibrator and your wrists pulling you into her arms holding you close. whispering how good you’d been, all kinds of sweet nothings while you cling right to her.
already having a warm bath already prepared along with your favourite bottle when you’re like this filled with water. gently placing you in the water and climbing in behind you hugging you close knowing you like to be kept close and feel her body against yours. she’d wash your hair and body so gently, massaging your back before drying the two of you off and wrapping you up in your softest pjs and a warm fluffy blanket
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