#WHEW BITCH THIS IS LONG

[spearxwind]

Hi this is where I talk a bunch about ocs :D

I dont have a lot of time lately to talk abt lore but i still think abt my guys whenever i have some chill time to myself, so here's some patch notes. This is also just me thinking out loud haha

CD:

ive been playing w some changes for CD and seeing if they stick :] gonna make the story slightly more complex and the sides of the conflict also different (for example I am going to make hades and talas full on enemies at first along with connon, caval and silas >:3 (and I am also making silas and his monster form two separate characters so the lion (hal) is now a mount instead))

Specifically what I've been thinking about is making Hades either a ship captain or a first mate for a rogue ship. The deal with Hades is that he comes from a renowned family from Redbridge and is a disgrace to them. In previous versions of CD they were artisans but that never rly clicked for me, and recently I have been reworking Redbridge into a naval empire to add some 🤏spice 🤏to the world, which would mean Hades' family is actually a naval captain family putting him next in line to be one of them but since his thing is being a disgrace he takes off and becomes a rogue. And instead of hating leviathans he fucking hates hunters instead. Conversely, I think with these changes Talas would also NOT be inclined to kill hunters (or at least not as often as he currently does). He'd pick fights with the naval fleet and other similar factions instead which is more like his character.

I also wanna try and bring back an older concept I had where connon's ship was able to both become fully submerged (like the subs in sunless sea where her character originated from) and this other idea I had where a ship could split in half into two smaller ships. Like if a catamaran could split into two and flank a vessel on both sides. But we'll see if I can make this work x)

Dragons (broken horizon + extinction):

I vaguely mentioned this a while ago as well but I've also been thinking abt my dragons and how I kinda want them to all be in one world/setting, which includes both my broken horizon guys (cer, jarek, octane, etc) and my extinction guys (alex, c, orion, etc) but I dont know how to deal with all of the conflicting lore and themes.

Because for extinction the big theme is there are people who can turn into dragons, and technically all of the dragons' powers are based on energy (for lore reasons). Meanwhile for my other dragons I have a few different elements or other ways of using fire (eg instead of using straight up fire/energy, my oc Jarek can breathe out gas only and ignites it with his mandibles).

I miss all my dragons a lot so I kinda wanted to make a world for them where I could have them Vibe and do different stories in so I thought about having a dragon-only universe but unfortunately Extinction has a pretty huge human element that I cant just eliminate.

It feels counterintuitive, i know the first logical choice is 'just let them be different things' but I genuinely feel like the right choice is to put them both together so the characters can interact and the whole story can be deeper because as it is both are really shallow and I would really like for them to work together so that's what I've been picking at for some months now (it's um. been real slow)

For these two stories I do have two different vibes though that I've been wondering how to weave together nicely bc they overlap for some characters. For broken horizon I had flying and aerial racing as a big theme (and some of the chars in extinction would be rly into that) and for extinction I had dragon arena fights as a big theme (and some of the characters in bh would be rly into that) both of these is another of the reasons why I wanted to put them both together bc it feels like they can fit very well I just have to find the right idea for them to click and then itll be smooth sailing -w-

I also wanted to talk abt this in hopes that talking abt all the dragons gets me to think more about them as well

I wanted to make this post bc I've been really busy lately and rly absent from here in general and I don't have as much time to draw (or even think abt ocs) anymore but I still wanted to keep posted about what's been going on in my head and hopefully get some eyes on it and maybe even some feedback if anyone is so inclined

If u read this whole thing thank u i owe you my life fr I hope u enjoyed reading abt my patch notes :D and hopefully sometime in the future I can get back to drawing concepts and stuff or maybe even writing stuff

[duskier]

you know for someone who sexualizes the dentist I sure am scared of dental issues

[ruth-the-artblog]

Hey @ari-shipping-stuff i thought i would answer everything in a seperate post so i can compile things easier fkjdkdidhdidjd

1- Yeah the saturation is edited :> I was going for a sunset vibe. Which is Extra Eerie in school because we always go before sunset. The original is regular window light + shadows. I'll put the og one at the readmore at the bottom. Also tbh i been using mostly pens for drawing to prevent me from constantly fixing mistakes in comics. Kkdhdkdjkdjdkjd

Oml those fucking windows. I hated them so much. As a public school student, they were in all my schools.

These, but much less clean (im talking CAKED in dust) and half the windows were broken/the glass panel is half hanging out of the frame. It was such a hazard to clean tbh because it was so easy to push out a loose panel. AND WE SAT NEXT TO THOSE BITCHES 🤡🤡🤡🤡

2- Thanks :> i also liked how it turned out with the blue pen and orange lights. I think the reason my drawings are rly expressive is because i like to draw those the most kdhdkdhdkd

3- kdhddkdjdkdjdjdkdjd with how much eyes it has, you def could hit one of them square in the eye

4- It's a karaoke room im leaving a photo under the readmore for reference. I kinda just based it off how i remembered it. Now that i think about it im not sure if there was a disco ball, but in my heart there sure is. The things on the table are microphones, but no one is singing right now. The song playing is "Eyes Without a Face" by Billy Idol, the one i linked in the post.

5- Nah i didn't use the knife, quite the opposite actually. I didn't like how one of the draings turned out, so i ripped the bottom half of the paper and drew at the bottom. Then i used my phone editor to blur the two pages together.

What ending scenes dym btw?

This place was inspired by the song "I Know The End" by Pheobe Bridgers. The place is sunset with thousands of billboards. Eyeballs and Lee sit on the titular billboard from the song as they chat.

When did Lee meet Wingtips or Eyeballs?

For Wingtips, its the usual one. Wingtips is a manifestation of Lee's imagination as a coping mechanism. Vae also act as a therapist and later a parental figure to Lee until the end.

For Eyeballs, after Lee dies, Eyeballs poses as Wingtips to torment him in Hell for eternity. However, something happens and leaves Eyeballs just as trapped in the dream-hellscape as Lee is. They kinda struggle to understand each other, as they are the only real people in the dream-hellscape

First comic

^ i think i sent the full vid in the discord before. Lmk if you want me to find it for you

Right that's it. Thanks for reading everything.

[wakeup01]

Theft Of A Bro

Uffh. Yeah, that’s good. Just like I thought…tight. We’ll see how long that lasts. No need to talk bro, I know what you want to say. You’re sorry for reacting that way, that me being gay shouldn’t have changed anything. That you shouldn’t have used that slur, or called me a bitch.

Hindsight is 20/20 though, especially when you’re getting fucked by a bro who’s stealing your muscles. Dude, don’t look away. Look me in the eyes, I want you to watch your legs dangle hopelessly above you as I take your masculinity. Take the body you worked so hard for. And I want to see your expression when you begin to love it.

I can already see your arms deflating down there, becoming dainty twigs. You won’t be able to lift a thing with those. That’s okay bro, you can give that bulk to me. I’ll put it to good use. Fuck. See them balloon, so fucking good man. Rrrrww! My biceps feel so much stronger, check out these guns. Check out YOUR guns on my body. Haha. What? Come on bro, you can forgive me for a bit of flexing. Okay maybe a lot of flexing, but I can’t help it. You were always such a egocentric showoff - puffing out your chest like a territorial beast. A textbook, self obsessed fuckboy, now I understand why.

And just look at my expanding pecs. So fucking thick and juicy. Bouncing in time with my th—thrusts! Those used to be yours. You always hated how guys used to eye them up, but now you’ll be the one salivating at them. No need to try and deny it my dude, soon enough your body will have new…needs. Wow bro, you’re already looking real flat down there. Those endless hours spent at the gym to boost your fragile ego, only for me to steal it within seconds. All that definition just fading into your tiny, slimming stomach. Those grab-able hips. Fuck, me on the other hand, I’ve never felt stronger. You could break rocks on here! I’ll take good care of these abs, they look better on me anyway.

Aww, your square jaw is rounding out to a cute little pouty face. Squirm all you want. You look so adorable when trying to seem angry bro. Hard to take you seriously when you’re blushing so intensely. You did always tease my boyish features and now my head is like chiselled marble. And you? That button nose and those freckles, guys are just gonna love you. Say goodbye to being a manly jock. Hello twinky boitoi! I think your waist is now thinner than your girlfriend… or is that ex girlfriend now? That’s a body designed to be fucked brah. So just let me fuck it. Take it like a BITCH! Like the BITCH you thought I was.

Uff. I can feel my cock expanding inside you. The veins pulsing, flowing with blood. Can you feel it too bitch? Yeah, by your expression I know you can. Stretching your hole wide, filling you to the limit. Feels good, doesn’t it. Don’t look now but your dick is shrinking. I’m stealing all that length, all that girth; pushing mine deeper and deeper inside you. Pounding that prostate. There you go. A tiny nub. My churning balls are dropping lower and swelling as yours shrivel up. Mmmff. Fuck that’s sick bro.

Yeah, it’s okay to moan. Your breathy voice getting higher and higher, as mine gets deeper. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal for slutty bitches in heat like you. It’s in your nature. Especially when in the presence of an alpha god like me. Whew, my pits are sweating like mad, just smell that intense musk. Smells just like you used to, bet that fact makes you real hard. Smelling your scent dripping from another man as it’s stolen from you.. Sniff and moan. Sniff, moan and give everything to me.

Holy shit, even your skinny legs are hairless now bro. Just like the rest of your smooth, svelte physique. How does it feel? How does it feel to be the ideal gay bottom slut, the very thing you abhorred.

Why so quiet broski? Oh that’s right, we’re trading that pigheaded ego for an eagerness to please. You had enough confidence to share, so I’m taking it. Taking all of it. Fuck. Yes. Your outspoken nature is draining into me, leaving a timid little mouse in it’s place. A stark difference from that rude, puffed-up dick you prided yourself on being. Even now I bet part of you wants to talk back, be a brat. Hm, but that shy smile betrays what you really are. A well behaved boy who knows his manners. Isn’t that fucking right? Heh, good boy.

Look at me and see what you used to be. Marvel at me, marvel at what you’ve lost. Starstruck at your own well deserved comeuppance. Feel your nub twitch at the sight of the perfect man fucking your jock-hood into nothingness. That strength being sapped away. It makes you feel so small and weak. But you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your head? Sorry bro, I got bored of being the dumb one, so yeah, I’m taking your smarts too. Even if you did waste it and let your cock make most of the decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t held it over me, looked down at me. Well…who’s looking down now? Don’t worry, being air-headed has it’s benefits. That empty look in your eyes, the open drooling mouth. Blissful ignorance. The cute way you’ll get confused at the simplest of things. The ‘ummms’ and ‘huhs’ as you bite your lip and push out your rear. Talking like the complete basic bitch gay you once hated. The constant state of mind melting hornyiness. Dumb as a rock. A complete ditz. You’ll get by doing ‘favours’.

I’m not a jackass though. Not like you were. It’s only fair you get something of mine bro, you can have what’s left of my body fat. Unf. Straight to your rear. Let it plump up your butt to a perfect round bubble. A wobbly shelf. A big bouncy booty. Woof. Yeah just like that. The perfect entrance to your endlessly usable fuck hole. Damn, it’s tight. Let’s conquer it.

Bruh, your masculinity is truly delicious, surrender the rest up to me. To my new hulking, godlike form. Purge every trace of manliness from your puny effeminate body with abject glee. Lisp, smile and giggle like a silly little girl. Like the Femboy you were destined to become.

Like a BITCH.

Say again? Bthweed? Oh, you want me to BREED you. Way ahead of you bro. When I cum with my monster cock, your pretty little head will become stuffed with thick, cummy cotton candy. And bro, it’s never gonna clear up again. I have a new adorable outfit already picked out for you. Thigh high socks, booty shorts, a tiny thong and a nice thick collar with your name on the tag. BITCH.

I’m gonna enjoy parading you out in front of all our fraternity bros. You’ll pretend to be all timid and ashamed but I’ll know you’re actually loving the sense of humiliation. Loving your new place as my emasculated gay fucktoy. If you beg enough I might even let the rest of the frat borrow you. I’ll be sure to let ‘your’ girl know that you were a good hole after being passed around. Maybe she’ll even give you tips, you’ll be besties in no time.

Hm? That’s ‘thank you sir’ to you. That’s better. Let’s be clear, we’re not ‘bros’ anymore. I’m a fuckmachine and you’re a glorified fleshlight. We need to make sure you don’t forget your role. A simple tag will suffice. I’ll even let you choose where your ‘BITCH’ tattoo goes. Forehead or rear, it’s up to you. Yeah boi, I think it’ll look good there too.

Now open wide BITCH and be ready to swallow. I’m about to fucking blow.

———-

Whew! That was a good fuck. Clean up boy, the other bros will be here soon and I…woah. Damn, I feel lightheaded. It’s like my brain is overstuffed. With…stuff. And my cock, uughhh. It won’t soften. Maybe I took a bit too much from you, but fuck, I couldn’t help myself. You deserved it after all. But bruh, I need to lift! Huhuh! Oh shit. I don’t want to be exactly like you were! But dude. Like bruh! My head! Gotta lift! Gotta flex! Gotta get to the gym and be the blockheaded fuckboy muscle jock this body deserves!

Pass me your old jockstrap, yerhh, my huge cock gonna do the thinking for the both of us brooo!

[transgender-catboy]

Did my best! God, I wish I had that shirt irl...

Tagging some goobs, feel free to do it, or not. I don't care.

@gh0str3c0rd3r @ringosnoop @wisp-isnt-happy @rosestthorns @bitronic @team-sleeps @adderallcrusher and anyone else who wants to 💖

starting a picrew chain bc i found one that has tons of options for outfits and such

here is the link

so here’s a biblically accurate atlas for you folks

fun fact i have this exact outfit ^_^

no pressure tags: @gently-decaying-flowers @tellme-o-muse @gayoticbeing @xgirlidiotx @trying-to-be-cool-abt-it @bassguitarinablackt-shirt @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @astraeasparrow @fakevariety @mack-anthology-mp3 @my-cages-were-mental and anyone else who’d like to!!

[storydays]

Brozone Older Brothers' NSFW Headcannons

🧡John Dory:

Whew, boy, are you in for a treat!

So it'd been 20 years-ish, since he'd been in Pop Troll culture, so he is out of practice when it comes to intimacy.

100% an ass and thighs man: You bend over in front of him, no matter what you're doing, instant hard on.

He's more of a grower than a shower: 5.1 inch normal and 5.3 when hard (Correct my if this is wrong bc I know nothing about penis education lmao)

Play with his ears, or even his tail, and he is instant putty in your hands.

Turn-ons include: edging (giving or receiving), eating you out/blowing you, (loves receiving more than giving but will still pleasure you as well as you did him) tying you up (and he knows some different knots from his adventuring days) and many more that I can't think of lol.

Def gives me top vibes but once in a while you'll catch him off guard and top the hell out of him

When you do top him, he is such a whiny little bitch, and you hold him there for hours until the sunshine peeks through your curtains.

Leave hickeys on his neck and he'll happily wear them and preen when you press a soft kiss to them when you're jealous.

When it's jealousy sex, angry sex, or sex in general, the bed will be creaking, Rhonda will be shaking, and anyone who happen to walk by the armadillo-bus will know exactly what's going on and run away in horror at the noises they heard.

He is a caveman when you first meet but starts to clean himself up a bit.

Is a total mess when it comes to cum. He cums buckets in you (if given consent), on your face, stomach, anywhere really.

Bruce:

Ooh, this is gonna be fun

So Bruce has had his fair share of lovers, and knows his way around different genitalia and how to expose his partner's feel good spots.

Ugh, please please pull his tail

Just like the rest of him, he's pretty girthy down there, but is still long enough to hit those special spots.

His hair is beautifully tamed, which means he is tamed down there too, and even learned to make different shapes and designs out of pubic hair.

Def a a shower and grower: 3.5 when flaccid, but a whopping 5.5 when hard

He knows how to use his mouth, hands, and tail to make his partner scream

Def a power bottom; watches you through half lidded eyes as you take what you want from him, occasionally praising or degrading you, depending on his mood.

He's a attentive lover, and will cherish everything about your lovemaking, and make sure you're okay.

Turn ons include: hair (only time) and tail pulling, you making eye contact with him while making lewd gestures, being a brat and teasing him, morning 69, and loves when you surprise attack him; so many emotions flood through him, and he allows you to take some control, before he takes over and pushes you over the edge, with a smug smirk.

Sex is like a game to him: the end goals are making you feel like a million bucks and making you drunk on his love. Will tease you by cumming first, before he allows you to cum.

He is one smug son of a bitch when you can barely walk, or when someone makes a comment about the hickeys on your body (he leaves them everywhere), or about the scratches and bite marks on his back.

📚 Clay:

Okay, so he wants to be the best you've ever had, so this bookworm absolutely studied up on how best to pleasure you. STUDIED FOR DAYS, and even studied while they were attempting to pleasure you.

Annoyed, you snatched the book from him, and turned the tables on them.

He's pretty average, right in the middle both length and thickness so pretty enjoyable for both parties.

Prefers giving than receiving, adores when you use your hair to hold him in place

THEY ABSOLUTELY ADORES THICCCCC THIGHS; (Yall see how thick Viva's thighs are? #CLIVIA )

Would spend hours in between your legs if you let him

Quite noises escape him....unless you bring out the dark green strap on and/or cock ring...then it's the Theatre Du Chatelet in y'all bedroom!

(Their brothers' overheard y'all one time, and the next day they all avoided your smirk and Clay's bright purple blush when you make a smart comment.)

Everyone sees him as serious/fun, but when you two are intimate, it's just Daddy and Baby Girl, it's up to you to figure out which is which, (😉)

Always uses protection just to prevent any accidents.

With you, he can let go of labels and just be Clay and they love you for that.

Turn ons: that strap on/cock ring, dem thighs, being pulled closer when they go down on you, you taking control, just you in general, teasing him in public, making suggestive comments in his ear while his brothers' and friends are around and he can't do nothing but try to make the blush go away and ac natural, glaring darkly at you when no one was looking.

He is clean and trimmed down there.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

The noise of a lawnmower welcomes you out into the vibrant summer day. Your mother is already on the porch, sat on the patio bench. You can tell she’s primped herself up just a little bit. You put the jug of lemonade on the wicker table and stand by the end of the long eat. 

“A kind man,” your mother muses beneath the racket of the mower, “about time we got someone decent ‘round here. You know,” she furrows her brow viciously, “those bitches from the cul-de-sac never liked your nana. Hate us even more. Stepford hags.” 

You nod and peek over at Steve as he pushes the mower in a straight line. The grass falls to the blade and leaves thick clippings in rows. You twiddle your fingers as you notice the shine of sweat on the man’s forehead and forearms. His act of kindness feels more like pity. 

“Don’t be stupid, girl, go grab some cups,” your mother snipes and draws your attention back to the porch. “That man’s going to think I raised a moron.” 

You retreat back into the house. For as pleasant as she was to your new neighbour, it has done little for her mood. Or maybe it’s just you. 

You grab two of the rippled plastic cups from the cupboard and head back down the hall. You stop as you reflection passes you in the mirror. You turn to face it. You frown. You’re nothing special to look at but you don’t do much to help that. You wonder if you put on some mascara or wore something nicer if you might look anything close to pretty. 

You shrug off the fleeting insecurity. It’s not important. Your mother’s sick and your little uncertainties don’t mean anything. You push through the screen door and clack the cups down. As you do, the mower quiets and you peer over. The grass is trimmed neatly as Steve stands close to the steps, wiping his forehead as his cheeks burn rosy form the heat. 

“Whew, think I’ll try some of that lemonade,” he climbs the steps, “hot one today.” 

As he climbs the last step and he drags his hands down his tee shirt. His grey blonde hair droops forward and he tries to shake it out of his face. He tugs at the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, revealing a sweat-dampened undershirt. 

“Don’t mind me,” he chuckles as he uses the outer layer to mop his face and neck, “think I overdressed.” 

“Get him some lemonade,” your mother hisses and points to the jug. “Steve, was it? What brings you to Heron Meadows?” 

You unstack one cup from the other and fill both. You set the pitcher back down and step back on your heel, folding your hands together as you fade into the background. You’re peripheral to your mother. You only exist when she needs you. 

“Well, settling down, I think,” he smiles and reaches for a cup. He raises it and stops it just in front of his chest. He carefully gestures at you with it, “thanks.” 

Your eyes round and you glance away, “welcome.” 

“Settling down?” Your mother echoes coyly. 

“I know, I’m a bit late to the game. Had to get out of the city. Maybe I outgrew it,” he sighs, “and you two? Where’s your husband hanging out?” 

You mother laughs and crosses one leg over the other, not easily as she struggles to still the shake in her foot, “long gone. He never saw this place.” 

“Ah, hope I didn’t hit a sore spot,” Steve’s cheek dimples before he sips from the glass. 

“Mm, don’t feel much for the deadbeat,” your mother tisks, “what about you? Settling down? Is your wife coming with the couch?” 

“Ah, yeah,” he reaches over to plant his hand against the pillar that connects to the rail. He leans on it and gulps again. He swallows before he continues, his eyes meeting yours for the split second you dare to look up, “missed that step but the house will keep me busy until I figure that out.” 

“Oh don’t you worry, that little club will keep you busy,” your mother scoffs, “make sure ya keep your picket fence nice and whitewashed.” 

Steve gives a curious furrow of his brow. You mother sniffs as her little quip hangs in the air. 

“HOA,” you put in quietly. 

“Mm, I bought out of that,” he says. “Outdated if you ask me. I don’t need them telling me what colour to paint my door.” 

“Bought out?” Your mother grumbles. 

“I didn’t relish the extra lawyer fees but worth it,” Steve explains before he empties the cup and puts it back down, “thanks, that was great. Uh, guess I should get started on the back.” 

You stand dumbly as you mother agrees with a grumble. An awkward silence thickens around you and she snaps in your direction with her fingers, “take him out back, honey.” 

“Oh, uh, sure,” you clamour forward as if awoken from a slumber. “Just...” you near Steve and step around him to scurry down the stairs. “this way.” 

He leaves his tee shirt draped over the railing and turns to follow. He looms like a shadow behind you and as you stop to reach over the top of the gate and unlock it, you scratch around blindly. He steps closer and hooks his arm over yours. The smell of his sweat fills your nose. 

“Got it,” he says as he easily unlatches the clasp and the gate slants inward. 

You push through, quickly making distance from him as he trails you into the backyard. It’s even worse than the front. You grab the broken mower from where you left it and drag it towards the garage. 

“Great, I’ll go grab the mower,” he declares and leaves you to shove your way awkwardly into the side door of the garage. You push the rusted metal inside and the door snaps shut at your back as you emerge back into the sunlight. 

Steve pushes through his nice electric mower and you shy away. It’s got to be close to new and no doubt expensive. You trod through the tall grass and as you pass him, his arm brushes yours. 

“I could do the eaves too,” he stops beside you. “Get some of these weeds cut too.” 

“No thanks,” 

“I don’t mind,” he insists. 

“I can manage.” 

“You can. Probably a lot. Your mom...” he suggests, letting his words hang. “She sick?” 

You glance at his chest, the white fabric taught to his muscles above his thick stomach. You nod. 

“You take care of her?” He prompts. 

“Do my best,” you mutter and traipse on, “thanks.” 

“Right, uh,” he calls after you, “well, if you change your mind or think of anything, you can always ask.” 

You keep on. He feels bad for you. Just like everyone else. You’ve heard Marge and Lucy on their daily power walk; poor thing, going nowhere, sad... 

You go back out front, leaving the gate open. You go to grab the broom from the porch as your mother remains as she was. Her hand trembles on her thigh. 

“You know, should clean up around here,” she says, “invite him for dinner as thank you. Maybe tomorrow.” 

You take the broom and stop at the bottom of the steps, “maybe tomorrow,” you agree. 

“He’s a nice man. Could use one of those,” she smirks, “never had one of those. Handsome to boot.” 

It’s strange. You haven’t seen your mother smile since your grandma was around and even then, it wasn’t like this. The way she’s talking is almost ravenous. Like she’s slathering over a pork chop still on the grill. 

“Just gonna sweep up the trimmings,” you explain as you drag the broom down the walk. 

“Ugh, do whatever, you simple girl,” she chides. “When you’re done, you start on that kitchen. Those damn dishes have been sitting there all day.” 

“Yes mother,” you say to the broomstick as you begin to sweep. 

The sun beams relentlessly down, pouring onto you like fire. When you’re done, you return the broom to its place against the siding of the house and let yourself inside. Your mother hums as she watches the birds. You should be happy to see her outside, to see her in a better mood, but you’re too uneasy with the presence of that man. You know his name but it doesn’t make him any less a stranger. 

You fill the sink and add soap. You plunge a stack of plates into the water and stare out the small window above. You can see the side of the next house. It isn’t much too look at but sometimes a squirrel will critter along the wooden fence top. 

As you zone out, hands working mindlessly on scrubbing and dousing, a shift in the foggy colours of your vision brings your eyes into focus. You blink as Steve waves from outside. He rolls the mower up to the gate and smiles at you. You wince, jolted by the reminder of him. You offer a flutter of your soapy fingers. 

He stops and stares at you through the window. You blink, uncertain what to do. He’s just looking at you. He winks and you wince at the gesture. He slaps his hand back down on the mower and pushes it through to the front yard. That was odd. 

Or maybe you’re just awkward. 

[carolmunson]

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.” 

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.” 

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?”  “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!” 

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables. 

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?” 

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.” 

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.” 

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum. 

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.   

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?” 

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent. 

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like.  “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks. 

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in. 

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.” 

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.” 

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.” 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.”  “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it.  You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.” 

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you. 

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow. 

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them.  You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth. 

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?” 

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down. 

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies. 

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[megamindsecretlair]

I wish you would write a fic….

with a submissive Tyrone.

Like he’s hesitant at first, not really with it, but as it goes on he opens up a little bit more. I think he’s think he’s too tough to “wine” or “sound like a bitch”, but maybe reader convinced him somehow, and while he doesn’t eventually makes some sounds he begs more with his words, he gets all squirmy and he keeps chasing his hips you reader’s touch….. or something like that. 🫣

Ask and ye shall receive, sweet anon!

Pretty (Pretty) Boy

Pairing: Sub!Tyrone x Dom!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), teasing, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise kink, D/s lite, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: See ask. For Valentine's Day, you decide to shake things up. You ask to take control in the bedroom and it unleashes a side of you that you want to see more often.

Word Count: 4,946k

A/N: This ask been kicking my ass!!!!! It has been in my box for so long, I am SOOO sorry, anon! I definitely got in my head for too long and didn't think I could pull it off. Whew! I had a bad day and this absolutely cured me. I need to lay down!! Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @bratzmaraj

“Can you at least try to enjoy it?” You pouted at Tyrone’s scrunched up face. You had tied him to the headboard because you knew your man. You knew that the things you had in mind were going to make him want to grab you and touch you. 

And once he started touching you, he would get his way. He always got his way. Not that you were complaining. Tyrone was addicted to your body and couldn’t help but touch all your smooth curves. But you had been floating this idea in your mind for a few weeks and tonight was the perfect night to try it. 

For Valentine’s Day, you asked Tyrone… if you could be the one in charge. Just thinking about having the entirety of this man at your mercy had you clenching your thighs beneath your robe. 

He tested the restraints by tugging on them. “You tied these a little too good. You been takin’ notes,” he said. He gave you a smirk, licking his lips and tilting his head to try and get a peek beneath your robe. 

You grabbed his chin and pushed his face to meet yours. You gave him a quick peck. “If you’re good, you’ll get rewarded,” you said, dropping your voice to a silky purr. 

You saw your words sink into his eyes. They rounded for half a second before his eyes drooped. “Aight, aight, but I ain’t no bitch,” he said. 

You gave him another peck. “Of course not,” you said. You gave him a wink and finished checking over the restraints and that he couldn’t secretly get out. You made sure the ties were well out of reach of his long fingers.

Those fingers were capable of bringing you intense pleasure and deftly worked over every inch of your skin. If he could get out of the ties, he absolutely would take over. 

The sweet, subtle aroma of honeysuckle and orange flower blossoms filled the room from the candles you had lit. The lights were dimmed giving it a completely intimate feel despite it being a basic room you were overly familiar with. 

You glanced at Tyrone as he watched you, a bit wary. You giggled. “I ain’t gon’ hurt you. Don’t you trust me?” You asked. 

“I trust you. I just..Ion know about this one,” he said. 

You leaned down once more and got close to his face. “Hey, we have a safe word. At any point you want me to stop, I will,” you said and pecked his nose, knowing he secretly loved that shit. He relaxed onto the bed, the rumpled sheets beneath him bunching up. 

“Come on then, baby. Show me what ya got,” he said.

You grinned and stood up, surveying your work. He looked damn good, sitting up against the headboard like a concubine. He still wore black briefs fit snug over his lower half. So plump and thick in thighs and ass that you wanted to take a bite out of him. 

You held yourself back and then told him you’d be right back. You went to your phone on the dresser and turned on your “Grown” playlist on Spotify. The deep croon of Ro James floated softly through the speakers and you left the room. 

You went to the bathroom, nerves bubbling in your gut but you stamped it out. Tyrone was being brave and letting you play out a fantasy of yours so you had to be brave as well. You took a few deep breaths and let your other side come out. Let your inner freak rise to the surface and completely take over. 

You looked good, he looked good, and you were getting everything you wanted and then some. So you threw your shoulders back and admired your sexy lingerie. You checked over the baroque garter belt with the straps pinching pleasurably into your thighs. The thigh high fishnet tights were flushed against your legs and your bra had your girls looking lovely. 

You left the room and walked back to your room. When you opened the door, Tyrone’s eyes snapped to yours. Heat brushed all over your skin as you walked further in and he took in your outfit. 

His briefs began to tent a little with evidence of his arousal standing at attention. You walked over to him, giving a dramatic swing of your hips. You trailed a finger from his legs to his thighs, to his stomach. His stomach contracted as you reached higher and he inhaled sharply as if you burned him. 

“Got damn,” he said, licking his lips. He moved his hands forward but was held back by the ties. He looked up and cursed, a smirk on his lips. “Forgot already. I really can’t touch you?” He asked.

“Ion know, maybe if you ask nicely,” you said. 

You bent down and grabbed the bottle of lotion there. It was unscented, but it would do the trick. He looked at you funny until you squirted some in your hand. He watched as your hands descended on his legs, rubbing the lotion into his skin.

“What you doin’?” He asked.

“You take care of me all the time. I want to take care of you. Now sit back and be quiet,” you said. You gave him a stern look and he smiled. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

You smiled, pleased that he was trying in his own way. You rubbed his legs and feet. He was jumpy by the time you got to that point, not used to anyone touching them. You kept it brief since you weren’t at the torturing stage yet.

Your eyes flicked to his as you worked on the other leg, an evil smirk on your face. He had no idea what he was in for. Was this how he usually felt? Drunk on power that he could do anything he wanted to your body and you would enjoy it? And you had no fuckin’ clue?

You advanced up to his thighs. A tiny sound escaped him, too low for you to hear what. He smiled at you to cover it up, biting his bottom lip and sitting back against the headboard. His eyes were lidded.

“Aren’t you being a good boy,” you said. 

“I like to please,” he said. 

“Mhm, you like to tease,” you said. You worked his massive thighs, spreading lotion all over. It was such a small thing, but you were mesmerized by the way the lotion sunk into his bronzed skin. 

He had a smattering of hair on his thighs as you relished in the feel of him. The power in his thighs alone. He could crush watermelons and you thought about how you were going to ride him.

You had been debating how to do just that once he said yes to doing this. Your pussy clenched thinking of riding him reverse cowgirl. Bouncing on his dick while you fondled his balls. Or you could ride him cowgirl and dig your nails across his chest. You could watch his face while you selfishly took what you wanted. 

The back of your neck tingled. You probably shouldn’t do this too often in the future if he was open to it. You were entirely too excited to use him like your own personal sex toy. 

You bent low over him while you pretended to work a problem area. A part of your arm grazed his dick and he hissed, ending with a small sigh. You pressed kisses to his stomach, intentionally skipping his dick. But your mouth was close enough that a little dip to your chin would bring your lips to the base of him. 

“You are the most amazing man ever. Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked. You peppered your praise in between kisses. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?” 

You looked up at him while he had a wide smile on his face. His toothy grin brightened his face, making him as open as you've ever seen him. He was usually scowling, so damn serious all the time. His mind stayed on his money and his lady. You smiled at the joy you saw there. 

“Shit, got a nigga blushin’ over here,” he said. If you weren’t mistaken…his voice was a little thick with emotion. 

You weren’t going to point it out so you kissed his dick through the fabric. “You’re doing so good for me, Ty. You comfortable?” You asked.

“You could loosen these ties,” he said. 

“Nice try,” you said. You stood up and put more lotion into your palms. You worked your way over his chest, rubbing his solid stomach and studying his dips and grooves. You’d been together long enough that you knew every inch of him.

But it was rare when you got to explore his body. Take your time and see what you could do to him. Your hands crept up his sides and when you wiggled your fingers, he twisted away from you. 

“Aye, aye! Don’t start that shit!” He yelled. 

“Excuse me?” You asked. 

“Don’t start that shit!” He said. 

You slid your fingers upwards anyway and tickled him in earnest. He twisted and writhed beneath you, his legs flopping on the bed.

“Because I seem to remember begging for mercy and someone said no,” you said. You giggled as you watched his face in a mix of pain and happiness. He threw his head back trying to get away from you but he was powerless. 

“You’re lucky I’m nicer,” you said. You stopped tickling him and moved your attention to his arms. You licked your lips as you ran your hands over his muscles. Back and forth, back and forth. His muscles contracted and you traced one long vein down his forearm.

His tattoos were an aphrodisiac all on its own. The lion was your favorite. He said it represented his dueling spirits, both lover and fighter. You worked the lotion into his wrists around the restraints. Too bad you couldn’t rub his hands. He had such big hands, big enough to grab your ass whenever he felt like. Which was all the time. 

Tyrone loved you out loud and that was your favorite part about him. There wasn’t an inch of your soul that didn’t love and cherish this man. You didn’t have the words or the comprehension to let him see how much you loved him. How much you woke up everyday and had to wrap your fingers around your arms and squeeze them tight. To make sure that it was real and you had a man who adored you. 

You just wanted to make him feel good. To make him feel a fraction of what he did for you on a regular basis. You cleaned your hands on a towel on the nightstand. “Feel good, baby?” You asked.

Tyrone groaned, his eyes drooping further as if he could go to sleep. He smiled, wide once more. Fuck, you would never get sick of seeing that look on his face. You would take a mental snapshot and lock it in your heart. You would pull it out a thousand times a day just to remember this over and over again. 

“Yes, ma’am. I see why you always askin’ for one now,” he said with a chuckle. Hell yeah. When Tyrone rubbed your calves after a stressful day on your feet, you were jelly in his hands and would agree to absolutely everything he wanted. If he wanted to pour ice cream on your pussy and lick it off, you would not object. 

But tonight was about making him feel good. You smiled as you went to the foot of the bed. You turned your palm until you were cupping his balls. 

“Now, what do we have here,” you said. You increased the pressure a bit, squeezing his balls until he groaned a little louder. 

You turned your fingers, massaging his balls in the way you knew made him glitch. He jerked and twisted beneath you, his breaths coming in choppy and weak. Your pussy throbbed, watching the mix of emotions play out over his face. 

Oh, you could get used to this. Used to driving him wild first. “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffed. He drew his legs up to try and dislodge you. His arms wrestled with the ties as he tried to get free. When it felt too good, when his voice was low in the back of his throat, he would make you stop. 

He assured you that he couldn’t cum this way, but you wanted to know what would happen if you kept going. If he didn’t stop you by pushing your hands away. You continued fondling him and he squirmed beneath you. His arms shook more violently as he tried in vain to stop you.

“You know what to say to get me to stop, baby. You gon’ say it?” You asked. 

His eyes were closed tightly, head thrown back. You relished the look of strain on him. How he looked so…pretty. 

He sounded so pretty too. His little staccato whimpers were turning you on in the worst way. You were dripping wet already and you hadn’t really done anything yet. You were going to burn up before you had a chance to let the night play out.

You were too excited, too turned on. Electricity danced in your veins. Your fingers tingled. Everything seemed amplified. His hair is just a touch more coarse. His voice throaty and guttural. The honeysuckle scent invaded your nostrils and now you would forever associate him with the scent. 

“Hol’ on, hol’ on, damn,” he groaned. 

“Ah, ah. You’re a big boy, use your words,” you cooed to him. You leaned forward, getting closer to him so that you didn’t miss a single thing.

The way sweat gathered on his brow and slid down his neck. The way his wide nose flared. The way his pink tongue darted out to lick his parched lips. Those sharp intakes of air. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Your heart cracked in two as you finally got a sense of what he had been talking about. How him hovering over you, looking down at your face, made his entire world light up. You understood now. You felt that same light burst out of you. You were breathless with it. 

“Babe, babe,” he said. His voice was so strained. You were so wet. An empty ache pulsed at the core of you. You needed this man inside of you. But you wanted to savor each moment too. 

“Words, Tyrone, or I stop,” you said.

“No, no!” He shouted. 

“Oh, so you can use your words,” you mocked. 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“Well then, show me. Show me you can use your words like a good boy,” you said. 

“Don’t stop,” he said. 

“Do better. Beg me, Tyrone,” you commanded. 

It was a desperate need to hear the words on his lips that crawled over your skin. 

“Fuck,” Tyrone said. He licked his lips a few times. His breathing was choppy. The rapid rise and fall of his chest had you clenching and unclenching around anothing. 

He was trying to hold onto that bit of control. That stubborn fight in him was costing him unnecessary torment. You moved closer so that you could peck him with kisses on his temple and cheek.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You can let go, baby,” you whispered in his ear. 

You huffed and jerked as if he would cum but it didn’t seem like he was going to bust. You knew his face and that wasn’t it. 

You moved your hands to the band of the briefs. He took in deep breaths as your fingers slipped below the band. 

“You gotta tell me the magic words,” you said. 

“Come on,” he groaned. 

His hips moved side to side so subtly you almost missed it. Your fingers slid across his skin and you smiled. He was enjoying this. He really was lucky that you were so nice. You weren’t going to lord it over his head. 

“You come on. You want that nut, don’t you, baby?” You asked. You lowered your voice so that it was a little softer. He loved the sound of your voice and when you talked like this, like an innocent little doll, he said it made him brick up instantly. 

“Fuck,” he huffed out. “Please, babe. Touch me,” he said.

“Hm, that sounds like a command. Are you ordering me to do something, Ty?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. He shook his head back and forth. 

“Come on, be good for me,” you said.

“Please, please, please touch me.” he said. 

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, pretty boy,” you said.

You began to stroke his long, thick dick. Your hands barely wrapped around him. You used both hands to stroke him slow and hard. 

The song switched to Sevyn Streeter and you shivered. Her songs always made you feel so sexy and in your feminine power. Impatient, you moved his briefs down so that you could look at your handiwork.

You looked at your hands with your nails painted in your favorite color. Your hands sliding over his dick, getting all kinds of delicious sounds from him. How it seemed you were pumping the cum out of him. 

He was still so pretty. Dicks were not supposed to be pretty. They were wrinkly and hairy. You’d seen one, you’d seen them all. Perhaps that was only for men you didn’t like. Because Tyrone’s was like no other. He wielded that thing like a deadly weapon.

It had been inside of you, handing out orgasms like it was sustenance. He kept himself well trimmed and groomed. Telling you that he needed to keep your plate clean. You watched your hands and suddenly grew jealous that they were having all the fun.

You got onto the bed and straddled him in a reverse cowgirl stance. You leaned across his thighs and stomach, scooting your ass back until it was tucked high in the air. Your face was level with his dick so you sucked him down. 

“Oh, fuck,” he jerked off of the bed. You rode him, wiggling your ass for him. His breath fanned across your ass as he tried to lean forward. There wasn’t much slack on the ties so he only got so far. 

“Umf, lemme taste you, please?” He asked.

He was a quick learner. You suckled the tip of his dick and the roar in his chest almost made you cum on the spot. You let him go with a wet pop, licking your lips to collect wayward precum. 

“You know my pussy wet, Tyrone,” you sung. You wiggled your ass. You looked back at him. His eyes were transfixed to your jiggly ass, the globes shaking with its own gravity. He groaned. His hands flexed. Like if he could just grab hold all would be right in the world. 

“You got me so fuckin’ horny, baby,” you moaned. 

“Oh, I need to taste it, babe,” he said. 

“You wanna taste me?” You asked.

Tyrone nodded, tearing his eyes away from your ass just long enough to give you a quick glance. 

“You gotta earn that. Be a good boy for me and cum in my mouth,” you said.

You put your lips back on him and sucked on him just the way you wanted. You went at your own pace, bobbing your head up and down and trying to fit as much of him as you can. His hips bucked on the bed. The heels of his feet dug into the sheets as you gagged on him. 

He lifted his hips and came with an aggressive growl. You sucked and moaned as his cum filled your mouth. You swallowed all of it. Usually you stopped and went to wipe your mouth of any more. But this time, you kept going.

These sounds were different. These were raw and primal. He muttered and sputtered through all kinds of excited sounds as you sucked the fucking soul out of him. 

“Uh, u-” he moaned.

You gyrated on his chest. You felt that moan deep down inside. All the way down to your womb. 

“Shit, I-!” He bucked his hips again and came one more time. His cum splashed the back of your throat and once more, you drank him down. You slowed your strokes, running your tongue lightly down his shaft. He made tortured moaning noises that had you seeing double. 

You stopped with your lips around his tip and then finally let go. You moaned and looked back at him. He was definitely in pain now. That shouldn’t quite turn you on this much. But who were you trying to fool?

You loved this look of pain on his face. Where he gave way to his base instincts. To fuck and be fucked. 

“You earned an award, baby, for being so good,” you said.

Your left hand descended down to your pussy where your fingers instantly slipped through your wet folds. You collected your essence and brought it to his lips. He panted before smelling your scent on your fingers.

His eyes were closed so he moved by the tilt of his wide nose towards your fingers. He opened his mouth and suckled them into his mouth. His tongue ran over your fingers, collecting every last drop.

“You so pretty, Ty,” you breathed. 

“Timeout,” he panted. 

You nodded and got up off of him. The song switched once more to Victoria Monet. It was a good song to relax to. You laid down next to him, wrapping your arm around his middle and staying there. 

He groaned and shook beneath you. His eyes were so tightly closed you wondered if he was intentionally getting himself hurt. 

“Are you okay, Tyrone?” You asked.

“Too much,” he whispered. 

You nodded and focused on not setting his skin on fire. You gave him small, tolerable kisses while he calmed down. You checked on him periodically, making him talk it out like he did for you. 

“Baby, please, I need to be inside you,” Tyrone finally whispered. You looked down the length of him. He was growing by the second. He swelled against your thigh, filling up just for you. 

“You sure you want to keep going? We don’t have to. You’ve already given me so much,” you said. 

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “I’m going to die if I don’t get to feel you. I’ll get on my knees and beg right now, untie me,” he said.

You looked up and brought your hand up to cup his face. Stroke his beard. Your hands slid down to his arms, past the tattoos all over his arms. There were some on his chest as well. You wanted to lick every single one. 

You straddled his hips and leaned up so you could look at his face. His eyes immediately went to your breast, concealed by your peek-a-boo bra. The sheer lace let him see your nipples. You played with your breasts as you began to tease him.

You slid your wet pussy across his chest and he licked his lips. His eyes dipped down to where you gyrated on him. His eyes. There was so much you could glean from his eyes alone. He wanted to devour you whole. 

You didn’t give him what he wanted. This was still your fantasy. You turned around on him, getting into a sitting position. You moved your panties to the side and grabbed his dick. You guided him inside you. He was as hard as a brick and nearly as thick as one. 

You groaned, sitting yourself down on that beefy dick. His head thumped on the headboard a few times as you seemed to continue sliding. Only Tyrone could get so deep that you felt him kissing your cervix. You clenched around him thinking of how he could fill you up directly. Shooting his load to the heart of you.

You weren’t sure when or how you became obsessed with being filled up by him but the image was provocative. Everytime he went inside you, your mind instantly flashed to how passionately he would grab your hips and slam you down on his dick.

You groaned and began to bounce, the bed creaking loudly over the music playing. It spurned you on more to hear it. You bounced faster, chasing your pleasure with reckless abandon. 

“Fuck, use me,” Tyrone moaned. “Use me, baby.” 

Your hands gripped his thighs and held on. You steadied yourself and bounced to your heart’s content. He moved seamlessly inside you, pulsing every now and then with his desire. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. Your screeches were getting louder and louder. 

“Let me feel it, baby, please,” he said, tacking on the please at the last second. Old habits die hard. 

All the teasing you did to him only served to tease yourself. You were already close. Especially with how deep in your guts he was. At this rate, he could definitely rearrange some things in there. You bounced faster. You were so close. So close. So close.

You screamed as you came, howling into the night that you were in heaven. Soaring through the clouds with wind in your air and space beneath your feet. You paused, clutching his thighs as you shook on top of him. 

You cried, your voice too warbly to be coherent. No help from him and you were still a mess on top of him. Flooding him with your arousal. You clenched and unclenched his dick, squeezing him tight enough to make him moan. 

“Can I cum in that pussy?” Tyrone asked. He moved his hips, wiggling you on top of him. You moaned as he pulsed inside of you. You were still so sensitive from your powerful orgasm. A shiver worked its way down your spine and you arched into it. 

“Since you asked so nicely, you can,” you said. 

Tyrone moved his hips. He managed a few inches and your eyes crossed feeling him deep inside. You wanted him to stay there. You wanted to stay connected. If he wanted you to cockwarm him, you would. Just sit there with him lodged inside of you busting load after load into you. 

“Ouue,” you moaned. 

You helped bounce on him while he moved his hips up, bucking and fucking you. You tugged on your nipples, needing a little bite of pain to really drive your pleasure higher. You moved one hand down south, reaching under your panties and circling your clit. 

“Sheeit,” you moaned and came. At the same time, Tyrone moaned loud and proud as he came, flooding your insides. You felt it fill you up to the fucking brim. 

When you finished, Tyrone fell back to the bed, completely spent. Your legs were wobbly noodles. You didn’t think you could move. You took deep breaths, waiting for the ecstasy to dissipate. 

But he always had the strength to make sure you were okay. You were going to do the same, because you loved him and wanted to make him comfortable. You got off of him slowly. He groaned as he slipped out. You got to your feet on the carpet.

You rubbed the sweat from his brow. “Talk to me, baby, are you okay?” You asked. You untied him and rubbed his wrists, rubbing the circulation back into it. You went around the bed and did the same thing to his other wrist.

“Hm, sleepy,” he said. He yawned to prove his point. You smiled at him. 

“Not without me.”

You went to the bathroom and warmed up a washcloth. You cleaned him off, wiping your combined juices. He hissed a little as the cloth touched his dick, but he quickly settled into the bed.

You went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up with a different cloth. You went back to the room to find Tyrone had slid down into the bed, resting his head against the pillow. Now the mu’fucka knew how you felt when you were overstimulated and speaking in tongues just to make the pleasure stop. It was almost like it was too much. But you couldn’t help but keep going, wanting more.

You blew out the candles and turned off the music. You turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed with Tyrone, pulling the covers up over your lower half. Your top half was too sensitive and overheated for anything more. 

You kissed his arms and chest once you settled into his arms. He flipped over unconsciously, pulling your back into his chest. You snuggled down into his hot body. Your back turned feverish just from his body heat. 

“Wait ‘till I recover,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ma get my payback.”

“See, that was all love. Why it gotta be payback?” You asked.

His hand flexed against your belly. He squeezed your flesh in his big hands and your pussy throbbed. You were already sore from earlier, you did not need another round. 

“Just gotta,” he said.

“But why?”

“Thems the rules,” he said. His voice was hoarse and seemed louder in the quiet, dark room. 

He fell silent and you thought he had drifted off to sleep. You were about to fall yourself when he hummed. 

“Baby?” He asked.

“Yes?” You asked.

“Can you call me ‘pretty boy’ more often?” He whispered into the air. 

“Of course. Anything for my pretty, pretty boy.”

Whew! If you need a cool down with another one, there's so much more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[satoruarchive]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) TODAY’S CONTENTS : 16+ / cursing / reader is suspicious!.. / a little bit of angst(?) / fem!reader / reader is scared of bugs / reader is described shorter than satoru / satoru’s kindaaa a bitch / let me know if i missed any warnings <3 ★ ˎˊ˗ series m.list ★ ˎˊ˗ wc : 3.7k (how did we go from 2.5k to..)

“tokyo jujutsu high..” you lean back against your seat in the train as an overwhelming feeling takes over you. this is going to be your new life — as a jujutsu sorcerer. this is what you signed up for, so no take backsies, right? even so, you can’t shake off the lingering feeling within you that tells you today is going to be much more than just a.. ‘long day’

“Excuse me, can you stop your mumbling?” your head snapped towards the sound, a look of embarrassment washing over you, realizing you’ve been talking to yourself like an idiot.

“oh, my apologies.” you force a smile at the old man who had been clearly trying to sleep, silently cursing yourself for choosing the worst possible seat — it doesn’t look like there are any decent ones, now that you look around.

“whew, everyone on this train looks real sketchy..” and you’re back to mumbling to yourself. i can’t even get my head straight right now.. the overburning feelings of excitement and stress cling to your heart. this is a big day for you, isn’t it?

you were told you were the replacement for some.. ‘crazy guy’ who slaughtered an entire village and left the jujutsu society. you wonder how his teammates feel about that — are they mad about what he did? sad that he left? or worse, scared of him even? no — maybe all at once. “sounds like a bunch of bullshit though..” you sub-consciously mutter. i mean, who is crazy enough to kill the people they swore to protect?

you can’t help but stare out of the window, a state of frenzy taking over you. determination flows through your body, you’re ready for this, these are just the few small steps you need to a—

“attention passengers,” a voice echoes through the train “we’ve arrived at tokyo — may all passengers please depart carefully, i repeat, we’ve arrived at-“

a frustrated groan leaves your lips, maybe you did want the train ride to last just a little longer. the boost of confidence you had early had quickly seemed to dissipate into thin air. come on, you’ve got this..

despite the hesitating thoughts, you don’t waste another second without arising from your seat, nearly stumbling onto your belongings. a sheepish apology quickly slips out of your mouth in a desperate attempt to not make any further noise while leaving your seat, lurking behind the stretching line of people exiting the train.

the almost never-ending line slowly becomes smaller and smaller until you’ve finally reached the train gate. as soon as you walk out and enter the train station, you’re greeted with the beautiful scenery of tokyo. it’s your first time experiencing the grace of such a serene place in real time — it’s almost distracting, really, the sound of birds chirping by and people bustling everywhere — hold on, something smells a little..

“hey, i’m here.” a hand waves over your face, causing you to flip around quickly and you’re greeted by the sight of a girl with short brown hair and a cigarette sitting in between her lips — so that’s where the smell is coming from. “oh.” you eye her uniform, easily recognising the jujutsu tech uniform that bared similarities to yours.

“wow, you’re pretty.” you attempt to ignore the smoke hitting your face by throwing in a compliment, miserably failing as you slip out a couple of coughs— ahem. . you clear your throat.

the girl notices your discomfort quickly. “sorry.” she removes the cigarette from her mouth, letting the tip burn and the end falling to the ground.

“no, no, its fine.” you shake your hands, sighing in relief when you finally taste some fresh air. “so, you’re shoko right?” a curious gaze displays your features.

“mhm, i am shoko.” she confirms your statement. “Mr. Yaga sent me to escort you, he rambled quite a bit about you.” shoko briefly glances your way as you subtly nod at her words, gesturing you to follow her. you wonder what Mr. Yaga could have possibly said about you — hopefully good things.

“so you’re replacing suguru, huh?” she says it almost as a fact and not a question. honestly, she is also a little unsure about the replacement like satoru— maybe not as worried as him, but she still expresses a sense of uneasiness — she is suguru’s friend too after all. . or was.

you haven’t even noticed that she’s talking to you, her words entering into one ear and out of the other. you’re inattentively staring straight ahead, mind too occupied with thoughts to notice her voice. your ears are ringing with theories about what could of seemingly caused their friend to do such an insane 360 — or maybe im thinking about it too much, he’s not what im after anyway..

“heeyy? you there?”

“oh, yeah, i am.” your response came off a little delayed. damn it, focus. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the lingering thoughts, it’s not the time to let your head get swayed.

“so. . is smoking even allowed in there?” you ask with a half-hearted snicker, a desperate attempt to save conversation.

“no, but if you don’t get caught then it never happened.” she shrugs. “not much of a smoker, are you?” the teasing glint in her voice makes you a little embarrassed, a nervous smile bracing your lips. “no, not really haha.”

“nothing to be embarrassed about, im just poking you.” her reassurance made you sigh in relief, perhaps this wasn’t going to be as difficult as you assumed it was.

“actually.. i wanted to ask something.” shoko turns her head in your direction, awaiting your question expectantly. there’s an unsure expression on your face, contemplating your words.

“why did your teammate-“ the words are about to roll off your tongue when suddenly a strange noise causes you to choke on your words — ring ring.

well isn’t that just great.

“sorry, gimmie a sec.” shoko looks at you apologetically as she takes her flip-phone out of her pocket. she checks the contact name, satoru. you managed to take a peep in time to see who’s calling.

the name leaves your throat a little dry. satoru gojo — from the gojo family. his existence itself makes curses quiver. a sense of rage boils up within you, hearing the name of the gojo clan itself makes your teeth grit.

your eyes narrow for a moment as you faintly hear his voice on the other side of the phone, words being exchanged. “stop calling, im almost there.” shoko hung up, her attention diverting back to you. she doesn’t miss the scowl on your face. “something wrong?”

“oh, no, nothing.” you snap out of your trance before your kettle could pop, your lips curling upward. “who’s ‘satoru’?” you fake a curious look. play dumb — that’s it.

“you don’t know satoru gojo?” shoko lets out a humorous laugh, faltering a little when she sees the serious look on your face. “he’s from one of the big clans, the strongest sorcerer of our generation, they say.” she simply shrugged. “don’t worry about it, he’s all talk, no bark.” she gives you a reassuring look, not what you would of expected from a gojo clan member — but perhaps you should take her word for it, for now.

theres a strangely comforting silence as you follow behind her, you could feel the air getting chilly and shivers vibrating through your body. shoko doesn’t seem to be affected much by it. maybe i should’ve brought a coat.

“anyways, we’re at the outskirts of tokyo now.” you squint your eyes, seeing a big building a few feet away. “well, you’re officially a sorcerer now. its not as exciting as it sounds, though.” she gives you a teasing look.

“i know that.” you roll your eyes. you both take a few more steps, finally arriving at the gate. behind the gate you spot multiple buildings. you have to stand still and collect your breath for a moment, so this is jujutsu tech.

“woah, it’s huge.” of course you knew a place with sorcerer’s from one of the biggest clans wasn’t going to be any joke, but it’s hard not to be swayed by such a breath-taking place.

“come on, lets go.” she takes your hand and walks through the gate. you closely inspect every sight on your way. wow, this place was pretty. you’re almost jealous of it’s radiance.

you’re taken to a bridge where shoko spots a familiar lean figure slouched against the railing with a sulky pout. the chalk-white hair that fell over his eyes, having to push them back with his long fingers and you almost get a view of the famous six eyes the gojo family is known for — those serene blue eyes that can put you in a daze with a look — wait, are you in a daze?

“not you too..” shoko slams her face causing you to snap out of your daydreams in a panicked oh! “im going to hide your face with a cardboard box one day, i swear.” a nasty side-eye was sent satoru’s way.

you thought him ‘charming people with one look’ (such big talk!) was mere gossip amongst the crowd. i mean, he couldn’t be that beautiful right?

you’ve never been more wrong.

“huuuuuh? so it’s my fault now?” satoru crosses his arms, a pout visible on his face. shoko already knows his ego is already swelling with pride, ‘cause he just can’t control the fact that he’s oh-so beautiful, can he?

“oh. . uh.” you finally realize his tall figure looming over you, taking a few steps back as he sizes you up, those piercing cold eyes were antagonising, anything but friendly. resentment runs through your body — it really is him, satoru gojo.

“this is stupid.” satoru let out a huff, pulling away and crossing his arms. “we don’t need a replac—“ satoru freezes in place when he catches the striking scowl on shoko’s face. “whatever. it’s ‘nice’ to meet you.” how much more pettier could he get?

“wellllll, ahem.” you let out a cough, trying to compose yourself. “my apologies. you’re satoru right?” you ask with a friendly smile on your face, but it’s almost like he can see through it with the way he eyes you. as if his icy orbs were poking right through your skull, did a shiver just run down your spine?

“it’s gojo to you.” a huff escaped his mouth and he turned away, refusing to even look at you, as if he was destined to hate you the exact moment you met — well, at least that’s something you both have in common.

shoko could only smack her forehead with her palm. when suguru joined sorcery, him and satoru didn’t hit it off immediately, it took them a while to get used to eachother’s company and get over their silly rivalry.

yet she has this strange feeling it might not be the same with you.

“ignore him, he’s just been a big whiny bitch about about the idea of a replacement.” shoko places a hand over your shoulder, ignoring the offended look satoru gave her, he was no ‘whiny bitch’ about it.. okay, maybe he was… just a little.

“speaking off..” you finally take your chance. “why’d your old teammate leave?” as soon as the words spilled out of your throat, you quickly notice how a cold tension develops in the air. you take a glance at satoru, oh. he doesn’t look very pleased you brought that up. .

“what’s it to you?” he snickers, tone comes off with an edge of hurt. he can’t say he’s over it, that he moved on, that would be a blatant lie. the reoccuring images of that day play in his head, not a single flaw in the vision of that scene — and it hurts.

you almost feel bad for bringing it up, since it clearly wasn’t the. . ‘right time’. you rub your hands together, its cold. was it always this chilly out here?

“i was just ask—“ “well, it’s none of your damn business.”

you can almost feel his glare, as if it was stabbing daggers right through your mind. teeth clenching, you hate that look, it’s just like them all. just like every other g—

“we’ll talk about it later.” shoko finally says something, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “im going to show her around for a bit, satoru. bye.” shoko waved as she quickly pulled you away from the bridge. phew.

“so i definitely killed the mo-“ you’re immediately cut off. “don’t bring that up in front of him, god.” shoko laughs. “it’s a sensitive topic for him.”

shoko looked up for a brief moment, exhaling. “suguru — he was our old teammate. they both were practically inseparable, i’m guessing you know he left and all.” you take in her words, suguru geto, of course you already knew who he was.

“im guessing you also wont tell me why he left.” you laugh, yet a curious gaze still present, hoping to hit the jackpot. “well.” shoko lets out a quiet hum and you’re kept on your toes, anticipating, as if watching a love confession in a movie. come on. .

“why do you wanna know so bad?” ah, shit. you almost let a groan leave your lips, you knew it was never going to be that easy, yet it’s just as frustrating.

“im just a little curious, from the things i heard he did some prettyyy crazy things, y’know?” woah, good save. “i can’t argue with you on that.” shoko laughs bitterly. “ill tell you some other time, though. its your first day here, let me tour you for real.”

you nod at her words, trailing behind her as she leads you to a hallway. you take a good look around — must be the dorms.

“so this is where the dorms are.” you look to the direction shoko points at. “your dorm is the one on the right, next to.. satoru’s.” she gives you an apologetic look. “theres no other rooms with essentials as of now, hope he wont be a big pain in the ass for you.”

you acknowledge her words, slowly moving to the room, paying a lot more attention to satoru’s door than yours — there was nothing special about it, yet you can’t shake the feeling that everything’s going a bit.. too smooth. your dorm being right next to his is like a lottery ticket, it’ll make everything much easier, but it’s almost too good to be true — or maybe you’re just overthinking it.

aside from that, it’s also not the best thing in the world. it’ll be perfect for your mission, and yet one day you might just end up punching that arrogant expression on his face from irritation — a double edged sword, they say.

“you can do whatever you want with the room, you listening?” you turn back to shoko, giving her a half-hearted smile. “oh, yeah, definitely.” shoko gives you a suspicious look. “ill take your word for it.. anyway, Mr. Yaga wants to see us tomorrow for a mission so you can prepare for that.”

“wow, mission already? it’s not a piece of cake, huh?” you joke. “consider yourself lucky, a lot of people have it way worse.” she teases you. “im going to go back to my own room — 303 if you’ve got any questions.” she gives you a pat on the shoulder before heading to the third floor, leaving you with the key to your dorm.

you slowly approach the door, finding yourself inspecting the door carefully as if something might jump out and hurt you, paranoid much.

rest assured, there was nothing set up. (obviously. .) you’re fiddling with your keys, about to open the door—

footsteps. the noise causes your ears to perk up immediately, turning around in a defensive stance to see whoever it is— oh.

“woah.” satoru raises his hand in the air defensively. “you ‘tryna to kill me or something?” redness spreads across your face as you immediately stand up straight. “im not armed, that was just a reflex.” you shoot him a glare. clearly, both of you were still petty about earlier.

“you were reaaaaalll nice with shoko huh?” suddenly he’s leaning in close. too close. is he onto you? is your journey over right here right now? maybe you were stupid for thinking you co- “there’s no mistake about it..” he scratches his chin.

“what?” you clench your fist in annoyance, its like your patience disappears whenever it comes to him.

“you’ve got a bug in your hair, do you even wash it?”

. . . .

“wait, what?” a rush of panic washes over you. “where is it!? wait, gojo!” you look up to him with a pitiful expression, only to be met with a teasing smirk. “ohhh, so you’re scared of bugs.” he’s saying it as if he’s keeping tabs on you or something. . he definitely is.

“i was just playing with you.” he shrugs nonchalantly. “seriously, how are you gonna fight a curse if you’re scared of a ‘lil ole bug?” oh this little tease.

“you’re seriously. asking to be punched, gojo.” you attempt to come off as intimidating as you can. unfortunately for you, you’re dealing with the cockiest man on this planet.

“what happened to ‘yer nice little demeanour huuuh? or does it just not apply t’me?” he’s easily towering over you, you don’t know why he’s so.. adamant to get to you. every word that comes out of his mouth — god, give me patience.

“bold of you to assume you deserve a single ounce of kindness.” ouch. the exasperated look on his face proved he did not take your comment lightly.

“oh yeah? don’t get arrogant just ‘cause you happen to get picked as a replacement.” there’s a strange venom in his words, you can’t tell whether it's targeted towards you. just why did he have to be so hard to read?

“just what are you so mad about, that you have to come bother someone else about it?” you bite back. “oh, yeah, me mad, suuuuureee. as if you didn’t look like you wanted to kill me a few seconds ago.” he retorts right back at you.

this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. you’re supposed to be nice to him and gain his trust — but that lingering anger in your heart is taking over you, the same coldness you loathe feeling — that cold look in his eyes, its just like them all. it’s like your feelings are speaking for you, as if your heart is pouring itself out.

present you would laugh at the fact that just an hour ago, you thought you’d be able to befriend him with ease. like a walk in the park, you’ll shoot him a kind smile just like you did with shoko, compliment his eyes maybe, yet it seems like you were destined to be enemies at first sight.

“and you know what? maybe you should be careful, ‘cause i will.” you shoot back, but satoru’s obviously not taking your threat seriously — ‘what could a wimp like her do to me?’

“oh please.” he grabs the collar of your shirt. “if you want me to be the last thing you see ill make it happen right n-“

“satoru, what are you doing?” a stern voice is heard from behind satoru and he immediately pulls away. you immediately recognise the man as the principle — Masamichi Yaga.

“nothinnggggg.” what a liar, you almost want to rat him out but technically it’s your fault as well. . .

“you’re the new student, aren’t you?” the man approaches you while satoru quietly observes. “yeah-“ your voice comes out in a stutter. “i am..”

“it’s your first day here, and you’re already fighting with that lunatic.” a grumble escaped his lips. his tone held a sense of aloofness, he doesn’t seem like someone who plays around. “don’t let me find this behaviour continuing.”

“but he started it f-“ you don’t even have time to respond and he’s leaving. your first encounter with the principle and its great, wow.

“but sirrrr, but heee..!” satoru mocks you from the side, and you have half a mind to not kick him in the face right there.

“im done arguing with an immature jerk like you.” you declare confidently, knowing you’re just as immature as him. “woooooah, look at miss victim being the bigger person, aren’t you sooo admir-“ by the time he’s done talking, you’ve already slammed the door to your room shut, causing him to flinch a little.

“gee, she’s ‘annoyin alright.” satoru opens the door to his own room with his key. walking inside and flopping onto the bed immediately. the AC is turned on in a beat. satoru can feel his mind relax as the cool air hits his body.

today’s tiring. there’s a lot of new unwanted thoughts swarming his mind, many of them being you.

in fact — ever since he heard about you replacing suguru, he’s been unable to help the hatred that filled his heart. is it hatred? or is he scared? the thought of someone else taking suguru’s place, for some reason, it irks him.

“maaaan, feelings are just as annoying as her.” satoru grumbled, resting his head on his arms. “i swear ‘somethin about her rubs me the wrong way.”

he’s not taking himself too seriously. he’s probably just thinking about it too much because he’s overwhelmed. he’ll take a nap and forget about it soon enough. (if only he followed his ‘divine intuition’.)

you, on the other hand, are quite literally panicking. unable to even lay down on your bed. you’re staring at the wall in disbelief, you’ve made it so far, you can’t afford to mess up now. but that look in his eyes — it brings back too many memories you’ve been wanting to forget.

maybe he was just playing around when you were fighting, but you’ve realised it now. he really can kill you if he wanted to. it makes you doubt yourself — if you even hold a fraction of his power. you knew it was never going to be easy, but it makes you wonder.

“just how will i assassinate gojo satoru?”

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) TAGLIST : @kuroogguk @ilovelinkk @kr1nqu @creamflix (open!)

★ ˎˊ˗ a/n : first chapter !! uh funfact reader was not suppose to have ulterior motives and the story was just suppose to be a simple rivals to lovers thing but while reader was talking to shoko i was like, why not give her a cliche assassin story 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ hope you enjoyed reading!!

[earthtoharlow]

Series Masterlist

Pervious Chapter

JACKHARLOWSOURCE

liked by 5,789 users

jackharlowsource: Jack posted a photo dump today and included this throwback photo with DJ Drama!

view all 7,457 comments

user: oh

user: when y/n gets a retraining order >>

user: yes just a simple throwback with dj drama no one else

user: ugly ass ghost pants

user: I’m truly a child of divorce

urbanwyatt just added to their story!

CALLHERDADDY

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callherdaddy: Jack’s thoughts on Y/N now that he’s single again 🥹💜 catch up on last week’s episode only on Spotify

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user: he dropping new music so he needs people to like him again

user: dude on apology tour 😂

user: “I love her, she knows that. I believe we’ll get back together when the time is right.” 🥹🥹🥹

user: I love y/n too, you ain’t special!!!

user: he’s acting weird so some news about to come out about Y/N

user: “she’s not even in a serious relationship right now” mind you there’s rumors of her marrying drake 😭😭😭

user: whatever helps him sleep at night

yourinsta just posted to their story!

champagnepapi added to their story!

THESHADEROOM

liked by 75,568 users

theshaderoom: Is a congratulations in order for Drake and Y/N??? A couple months ago there were rumors of the couple getting married but they were shut down by close sources but apparently things have now changed.

According to People Magazine, the pair had a private wedding in Toronto, days before Christmas. Only close friends and family were in attendance, including Y/N best friend Urban Wyatt.

#Roomies send your congratulations to the couple down below!

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user: stop cause I’m so happy for them 🥹

user: awwwww I love that Urban was her maid of honor 😂😂😂

user: chileeeee not y/n stealing my man

user: we gotta hang Drake’s jersey up on the rafters

user: the streets just lost a real one

user: has anyone checked on Jack

user: them leaving the reception early to go get ice cream is so cute 😭

user: sending my condolences to Jack Harlow 💐

user: I love that y/n didn’t wear a traditional wedding dress!!!

BALLERALERT

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balleralert: Jack Harlow just performed the worst halftime show performance EVER. Is the news of his ex Y/N marriage getting to him? Let us know what you think in the comments!

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user: y’all told me he was the best white rapper alive?

user: embarrassing

user: Jack go get yo bitch back please I can’t handle this

user: yikes!

user: whew that y/n voodoo working overtime

user: chileee he just needs to go be a stay at home dad

***

(un)holy matrimony 💍

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO THIS AU!! Doesn’t even feel like it’s been that long!!! 🥹🫶

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[kyoshi-lesbians]

ID: Comment by user othelo that reads, "my bet is that they live at least hundreds of years, if not thousands, but that the unagi we see in the show is relatively young, and that the older ones live far deeper underwater and are are much bigger. source: made this up just now bc i think it could be cool". End ID.

@comradekatara No exactly source: "this is sick as hell" is a good one. Plus. Deep sea giantism for the win!

I was thinking about this initially because the Kyoshi Islanders have a close relationship with the unagi, obviously (and to them it's The Unagi, singular) but Kyoshi island has only been an island for around 300 years. So like. How does a gaint eel respond to an island moving into its ocean territory? By Suki's time there's a certain symbiosis where the Unagi can stop outsiders from reaching the shores of Suki's village.... and they Have Fed people to the Unagi.

So to your idea, that these creatures live for hundreds or thousands of years and younger unagi stay near the surface, I think this Unagi has been there since Kyoshi's time. And not to make Everything About Kyoshi, because indigenous people like the Yokoyans would adapt to live in relationship with the Unagi with or without her. But I think Kyoshi might have played a role in navigating that early on, as she has to deal with the environmental/ecological effects of splitting the peninsula into an island.

how old do you think the unagi is. and how long do you think it takes a giant sea serpent to reach adulthood. and how old do you think giant sea serpents live?

[pigeonstab]

Okay so not that I’m still thinking about that art or anything but I have to know, does Horror pick the others up like that too? Do Dust and Cross also get scruffed if they’re in the way or being a pest or are they scooped up more gently? Has he tried picking up Nightmare?? :o

Haha, that's interesting!

I don't think Dust wouldn't get scruffed really, being picked up like that could be very panic inducing I feel like, especially since it removes his hood and messes with his scarf. He's not much of a trouble maker anyways. Though, maybe being picked up like from under his arms would be better, he knows he can't get out of Horror's grip (not without hurting him) so he just goes limp. Horror picks him up for being mean to Killer and it's an immediate slump.

Cross I'm not sure. I don't think he'd be scruffed too much just cause it'd be kinda awkward, they don't know each other that well yet for that kinda bond. Also with his need to be perfect, being physically stopped from misbehaving? He is not having a good time, he feels like a failure. I could see it more like... If he's being hard on himself, like cross insisting: "no, I'm fine, I should train two more hours after having already done eight!" And Horror is just like too bad get scruffed bitch. And Cross could get out of Horror's grip, but the hold is kinda comfortable and he is pretty tired and if Horror's picking him up then he should probably listen right? (Haha what a liar, he loves being taken care of and picked up, touch starved ass)

It'd be kinda funny for Horror to pick Nm up, though I feel like it'd just be reflex, like he's gotten Killer away from danger so many times just by grabbing his hood that one day on a mission he grabs Nightmare's cloak hood, Nightmare's stunned and get kinda choked, he looks back at Horror with a look, my god, if looks could make people melt into the ground that would have done it. And maybe like at home? Kinda like for Cross, when Nm's working too hard Horror comes and picks him up, it goes like this "Put me down you insolent fool! Do you know who I am-" And Horror just says he needs to eat. And Nm knows when it's about food there's nothing to try with Horror. He's all petty like "I can walk there myself" Only to be told "yeah but would you have?" *ensue Nm avoiding eye contact* "that's what I thought." And he just keeps him in his hold, and they don't really talk about it.

Whew this has gotten way too long, sorry man you just give me so many ideas 😭.

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (heartless 5)

⏮️Previous || (📚Previous Stories) || Beginning ▶️

⚠️ The following update contains the following triggers: death, blood, gore, strangulation, needles, gun, violence.⚠️

(Charles stares down at the body of Daniel. He feels nothing but contempt. There were no lies said by The Werewolf... a pity, really. He'd have more respect for him if he walked out even once; didn't matter if he came back groveling on his knees or not. At least he's put him out of his insufferable misery.)

The Werewolf: "Whew. I got carried away, didn't I?"

(Charles' attention snaps to The Werewolf and fights his urge to make any sudden movements. He didn't think that he had such short of a time to plan his course of action. A sharp gasp escapes him.)

(The Werewolf holds up Daniel's still beating heart by his claws, observing it with a curious gaze.)

The Werewolf: "I'm gonna be honest, I wasn't expecting this to come out all so cleanly... but I had to make sure that fucker didn't die. Tough son of a bitch."

"The fact that it's still going like this. It's fascinating... I'm not sure what to feel, but it's got me thinking -- if you had somehow gotten your way, what would've been your next move, huh?"

"That look on your face... I see. You would have. Or am I wrong? Doesn't matter though, you can see I'm very alive. You're probably wondering how could all of this happen?"

"We can discuss that later; I'm sure you'll love it."

"But first, I hope you don't mind me doing this--"

"I spent a lot of energy and you know what? All of this is makin' me hungry and I have the perfect little snack in my hand; it would be a waste and rude to Daniel if I didn't do anything with it."

"Bottom's up."

(Charles eyes widen as he watches The Werewolf tear into Daniel's heart with frightening speed and ferocity. His time is rapidly approaching and still, he has nothing. An emotion he hasn't experienced in so long wells up in his stomach.)

The Werewolf: "̧̱ͩD̵͉̾ē̟͞l̩͗͠i̙ͯ̀c̹̆͜i̱͐̀ō̸̞u͒͘ͅs͉̽́.̶͉͒.̛͓͋.̡̳͐ ̴͈͐b̔͏͈u̡̦͐t̵̠̾ ̛̩̀I̥̋͠'̲̓͜m̨̠̑ ̧̦ͤş̻̐t͖͊́i̦̾͟l̶̪̒ḽ̓͟ ͈̽͝h̝ͪ͠ű̢̮n̡̟̏g̥̈́͢r̘ͬ͜y̶̦͗.̧̣ͭ"̷͙͂

(Charles takes a step back. He's fucked up.)

(Blood drips from The Werewolf's mouth as he smiles, revealing his fangs.) "̨̪̄Į͕ͫ ̸̳ͭw̼ͫ͟ȯ̡͎ņ͎̆d̷̘̎e̼ͬ͜rͥ҉̝.̄͜ͅ.̴͕͛.͍̒͟"̢͔ͭ

"̶̭̒W̫̙̌͜h̜̉͞a̦̥̐͗̋́͞͝ṭ̶̱̏́ ͎̍̓̕w̢̛͔ͤi̷̺̋ͭͣ͞ͅḻ̲ͧͤ͘ļ̟̼̖̇ͪͮ͠ ̰͖̄͢ͅy̜̤͌ͪ́͢͞ŏ̰̱̖̍͒́ṳ̄͐͞ ̃͏͏ͅt̨̰͋ͭ͜ą͇ͨ́s̨̨͓̔ţ̵͓͚̻̋e̷̷̡̖̋͐̐ ̩̈́͗̍͝l̫̎̊̋͝i̷̤̩͑̋k̡̙̒͆̊͡ȩ̬̗̉̕?̬̣̩ͤ̔͆́͝"̵͉ͬ́̚

(Charles breaks free of his paralysis and takes a step back. His time is up and he's come up with nothing. Those two useless bastards should've called for the guards the instant this started! No, he can't stall for time any more and he has nothing to try to defend himself with.)

(The Werewolf wears his deranged smile as he steps closer. Charles knows he can close in without any effort -- if he wants. Something tells him that he's not going to--)

(The lab door opens and Charles risks his life to see it. The guards are here!)

// Next ⏭️

[the-bard-of-heartstrings]

Seeing a lotta RWBY rewrites/redesigns. Not complaining so long as nobody’s slandering the crew, and I’m gonna throw my in the ring a bit. Yang is one I see often and a common criticism is the fact she’s got brown in her color scheme. I get why this rubs the wrong way, but anyone trying to pull off her redesign knows yellow is a BITCH to pair with other colors w/o making it look tacky. Brown isn’t a bad neutral considering, but I think we can enhance it a little. Bear with me. (Haha)

Here’s my solution + small rewrite (if you can even call it that). Yang’s composed of a mish-mash of different things. Goldilocks being the central fairytale, fire/the sun, dragons. Going back to her fairytale and emphasizing a woodsy aspect in her (being raised in a cabin in patch is a good start) would make furs and specifically bearskin/fur being incorporated in her design and by extension the brown make sense. This sounds like a stretch and congrats if you’ve read this far but listen.

What if: Yang is from a little island traveling around looking for her mom and being exposed to different cultures but she keeps the traditional bearskin/furs of the patch to remind her of home while traveling like a safety blanket could be something. Or maybe she keeps it bc that’s the only part of the Brawnwen tribe and therefore her mom that she has and Yang holds onto it for V1-4 till she meets her and decides to move on and embraces team rwby’s colors more instead. This ALSO visually emphasizes Blake and Yang being both the beauty and the beast more for Yang! Whew this was a long one, I got a lotta thoughts like this so there’ll probably be more of this and maybe even some art if I got time.

[hunterbunter3000]

Hi! I love your page so much! From the dog/ handsome man ask, who would be the home wreckers and who would suffer in the friend zone?

Gaz and König would be the kings of the friend zoned boys while Ghost and Kruger would definitely manipulate, manslaughter, and manwhore their way in Sweetheart’s relationship. Where would the other boys be?

Hello! I'm so happy that you like my page!! I appreciate it 🙏 🫂❤️❤️

WHEW NOW YOU WENT IN BABES

(What we're referring to!)

You are very right, Gaz and König would be the absolute BALLERZ of the friend zone (or the brother zone, cause she sees them like "b r o t h e r s") and then Ghost and Krueger, like the SLUTS THEY ARE, would still be trying ONE HUNNID PERCENT

So let's use this as a pyramid system! The highest is 100% brother zone, and then going down further, you get to the Slut Homewreckers. It goes as such:

The Brother Zone

König

Gaz

Rodolfo

Alex

Roach

Horangi (The Whore Medium)

Alejandro

Price

Soap

Graves

Ghost

Krueger

The Slut Homewreckers

This was so sad to write out 😢

S I K E

Lemme start with Krueger, because he's always my favorite when it comes to Sweetheart.

Short answer: Krueger don't give a flying fuck shit.

Long answer: Krueger has been heavily obsessed with Sweetheart ever since he met her. You think that'll just E N D cause she got a boyfriend? Bitch please, that just makes him want her more. That little boyfriend is just keeping her company for now. Sweetheart belongs to Krueger, she just doesn't know it yet.

Now Ghost, he honestly can't help it. If he has his eyes set on something, he's either gonna make it his or complete it with so much determination it's scary. And that's EXACTLY what he's gonna do with Sweetheart. He didn't think he would fall in love with anyone, so she has a very special place in his heart. He's a bit heartbroken that she has a boyfriend. But as I said with Krueger, that's not gonna stop him. He's absolutely addicted to her, and his addiction can't just be leveled by being friends.

Graves... Jesus. With how much Sweetheart hates him, he's still SO PUSHY. He also can't let her go just like that. He likes their banter too much. So much so, that he sees his future with her still doing this, just with her in his arms surrounded by a white picket fence. Now everytime they fight, his brain reminds him that she has a boyfriend. Fuck, well not for long. He's gonna be the most annoying, pushy asshole she has ever seen. And he's not gonna give up.

Soap-- he was honestly gonna be in the brother Zone, but I had to think... cause I have in another ask (that I haven't posted yet, lemme alone) saying that Sweetheart and Soap are best friends first and lovers last. But g o d that's so hard now because he's fallen in love with her. They're extremely close, and for Sweetheart to not tell him that she has a partner really messes with him. He can't shake the feeling of wanting her for himself. (I can also see him being so desperate and begging. I have a problem with Soap being desperate and begging, its like my whole personality)

Price DEFINITELY wasn't gonna be bro zoned. Like come on- he's so determined in everything he does. But he will feel guilt everytime he tries to woo her. The black tendrils coiling around his being, the right from wrong really be setting in his soul and he hates it. But his desires and his heart keep pushing him to do the "wroight" thing. (Get it? It's right and wrong mixed together HAHA sorry)

Alejandro wouldn't.... but also really would. He feels a connection to Sweetheart. Platonically and romantically. But the romantic weights out the Platonic, and long story short; he wants her. He doesn't want to give up, but he also wants to respect her decision. She seems happy with this man, but wouldn't she be happier with him?

Okay so Horangi is in the middle because he would be 50/50. He would respect her choice to have a boyfriend. I mean yEAH YOU SHOULD-- IDIOT. He would tell himself that it needs to be Platonic only. He would say that when he's near her, when he's staring at her, when he's about to sleep, about to eat, about to-- you get where I'm going. But what if he would keep trying? He's a dogshit gambler though, so it may not turn out right.

Roach would be too scared to be a Homewrecker. He doesn't want to lose her completely, so he will just be Sweetheart's friend. I don't think he could take it for long though, since everyone has a breaking point. Seeing her smile with her man makes him smile, but his heart is bleeding.

Alex would be a bit disgruntled, but he would get over it. She's still in his life but just as friends. He would love to kiss her though. And to wake up next to her in the mornings and make breakfast together-- BUT YA KNOW IT'S FINE, HE'S FINE

Rodolfo hurts me, man. I feel like he would be so sensitive to love. Especially when it comes to loving Sweetheart. He would just look like a sad puppy everytime he's around her cause he knows he'll never get her like he wants to. #LOVEFORRUDY2023

Gaz will be on the cusp of crying 24/7 and being jealous everytime he sees her. And her 🤢man🤢 he will be supportive though, in whatever Sweetheart does he will always be supportive. And a friend. Only a friend to Sweetheart because that's what she wants and he'll respect it. I mean shiii he has to, he doesn't want to ruin anything this good, even if it is platonic.

König, my boy. The König of the friendzone (I LIKE TO THINK IM FUNNY) alot of people think that he's "UwU Boi babygirl nervous wreck little meow meow" (which I do agree on sometimes but also-) he grew up with alot of anger, and punching the shit outta people in school and getting into fights. He would never, EVER put his hands on Sweetheart, but he will mess up his room. And she didn't tell him? He gonna shut off for quite some time. And cry. Cry a l o t. He would have to re-wire his brain to tell himself that she's taken. She's gone.