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morlock-holmes · 2 months ago

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A pointless, overly long, barely edited review of White Fragility

Well that book sucked.

The end I guess.

OK honestly the process of reading White Fragility was incredibly draining, I started out annoyed, then became amused and fascinated by Robin DiAngelo’s peculiar definition of “Individualism”, then got annoyed and angry again, then just… drained. It’s an exhausting book.

As I try to put my feelings out there I’m having trouble linking them together coherently but this book is just so exhausting that the idea of editing this and doing several passes is just draining to think about. So here are some scattered thoughts:

Before anything else, it’s just not well written or edited

White Fragility is very repetitive, ambling, and just kind of… not very well arranged in general. It’s clear that the book desperately needed a proper editor, or maybe it didn’t, since it became incredibly successful despite everything wrong with it. Here’s an example I’ve already mentioned.

Towards the end of the first part of the book, DiAngelo puts together a list of a “common set of racial patterns” that are “the foundation of white fragility” and one of the bullets on that list reads,

“Wanting to jump over the hard, personal work and get to ‘solutions’��

Not once, anywhere in the preceding 111 pages or the succeeding 128 is the idea expanded on in any way whatsoever.

And it’s a truly baffling statement if you don’t expand on it. Why are solutions somehow opposed to “hard, personal work”? Is hard, personal work not part of a solution to some problem? If not why are we doing it?

The whole book has a similarly sloppy vibe; there’s very little factual information inside and what ideas there are are explained very badly.

A Christian apology for non-Christians

The more I read of White Fragility the more it seemed to me to have in common with badly written Christian apologia.

First off, modern, right-wing American Christian religious material often contains a sort of confusion that anybody could respond badly to the Gospels. After all, the good news of Jesus’ sacrifice and resurrection is both obviously factually true AND self-evidently good news, but somehow when you go out and preach the gospels, non-believers will often act with derision or anger.

And there is a certain kind of Christian who will respond to that anger, not by considering that there might be factual or moral objections to the gospel, but by essentially asking, “What kind of bizarre psychological condition would cause somebody to get angry about something that is obviously true and obviously good?”

This is an ongoing thread in DiAngelo’s writing, starting with the introduction,

“In the early days of my work as what was then termed a diversity trainer, I was taken aback by how angry and defensive so many white people became at the suggestion that they were connected to racism in any way…

“I couldn’t understand their resentment or disinterest in learning more about such a complex social dynamic as racism. These reactions were especially perplexing when there were few or no people of color in their workplace, and they had the opportunity to learn from my cofacilitators(sic) of color. I assumed that in these circumstances, an educational workshop on racism would be appreciated. After all, didn’t the lack of diversity indicate a problem or at least suggest some perspectives were missing?”

Well gosh, why wouldn’t these people be excited to hear about all the things they’ve been doing wrong? Truly a mystery.

Secondly, most of the arguments DiAngelo makes are made very sloppily, and are only really convincing if you have already been well-convinced. To demonstrate this I would essentially have to just quote the whole book to you, but for an example see the bit above about wanting to jump over hard personal work. You and I have spent too much time in the fever swamp, we can guess what she means from cultural context, but she never explains it.

Third, as others have pointed out white supremacy in this book takes on the qualities of sin in Christian theology. All of us white people, simply by virtue of growing up in a white supremacist society, are racist. This isn’t really proven so much as assumed.

You might assume that in Christian circles the fact that everybody is a sinner might level out hierarchies. After all, the Pastor is as much a sinner as you are.

But in many cases there is this kind of passive-aggressive jiujitsu. Oh, sure, the pastor sinned, but why should we criticize him when all men are sinners? Aren’t you failing to practice the virtue of forgiveness?

Oh, what’s that, you did something bad? Well that’s a different story. It sounds like you haven’t been really giving yourself over to God. Maybe we haven’t been doing enough to help stop you from sinning. You should talk to the pastor and really think about where you’ve been going wrong, and of course we would just be enabling you if we didn’t call you out publicly, it’s an opportunity for growth on your part, and of course if you disagree with how we think you should atone, that's just further evidence of your sinfulness.

Anyway, speaking of passive-aggression:

The Passive-Aggressive style in Woke Politics

Robin DiAngelo comes off as one of the most passive-aggressive people I have ever read. And also, ironically, one of the most clueless people I have ever seen when it comes to the most basic aspects of ordinary human psychology.

Here, have some examples:

“I am typically received well when speaking in general terms–for example, ‘Your requirement that applicants have an advanced degree rather than equivalent experience is automatically disqualifying some of the applicants that could bring the perspectives and experiences you say you are looking for.’ Yet when I point out a concrete moment in the room in which someone’s racism is manifesting itself, white fragility erupts.”

Oh, what, seriously? When you say, “We all need to try harder to improve at this” people agree, but when you go, “Especially you Greg” Greg somehow becomes defensive? Crazy!

“For example, in a conversation about racism, when white people say that they work in a diverse environment or that they have people of color in their family, they are giving me their evidence that they are not racist. If this is their evidence, how are they defining racism?”

I mean… Literally the same way you do? DiAngelo talks extensively about how white people don’t understand racism because we often have very few interracial friendships or relationships. Like a lot. Like it’s one of the major themes of the book and, in her mind, one of the major sources of white fragility.

I mean, imagine you are talking to someone, and you go, “See, here’s the thing that people who have never been to Cleveland don’t understand” they might respond with “Oh, actually I was born in Cleveland and spent the first twenty years of my life there” and their reasons for doing so are so incredibly obvious and natural that it’s kind of hard to even articulate them. Like… yeah of course if you tell a room that they don’t understand racism because of their shallow relationships with people of color, fucking of course the people who have deep relationships with people of color are going to bring it up!

“White people are receptive to my presentation as long as it remains abstract. The moment I name some racially problematic dynamic or action happening in the room in the moment–for example, ‘Sharon, may I give you some feedback? While I understand it wasn’t intentional, your response to Jason’s story invalidates his experience as a black man’--white fragility erupts. Sharon defensively explains that she was misunderstood and then angrily withdraws, while others run in to defend her by re-explaining ‘what she really meant.’”

Sharon, let me stop you right there. Can I just take a moment to completely ignore the substance of what you just said, while pointing out that you are objectively annoying to the people around you?

“When another police shooting of an unarmed black man occurred, my workplace called for an informal lunch gathering of people who wanted to connect and find support. Just before the gathering, a woman of color pulled me aside and told me she wanted to attend but she was ‘in no mood for white women’s tears today’ I assured her that I would handle it. As the meeting started, I told my fellow white participants that if they felt moved to tears, they should please leave the room. I would go with them for support, but I asked that they not cry in the mixed group. After the discussion, I spent the next hour explaining to a very outraged white woman why she was asked not to cry in the presence of people of color.”

Hi, thanks for coming to our meeting where we coworkers can support each other and connect. Before we start, I just want to tell Donna, Tammy, Jim and Bob that your coworkers don’t really want to support you too much, so if you need support please go somewhere else and get it from people other than your coworkers.

Look, I get it, that black lady finds the idea of comforting some distraught white woman in the aftermath of a black man being shot absurd. Maybe don’t handle that in the most ham-handed way imaginable though?

I want you to reimagine some of these scenarios as though they were addressing a less politically fraught issue than racism. In order to do that, we need something with the following qualities:

It is often unintentional;

The people who do it are often unaware that they are doing it;

It is genuinely difficult for others to live with and should probably be corrected because of that;

There is a social stigma to it so people feel embarrassed when called out for it.

I think having really bad body odor is the perfect analogue. But can you fucking imagine some of these if that’s what we were talking about?

Imagine somebody saying, “When I say that proper hygiene is important as a way to respect your fellow employees, I get broad agreement, but when I publicly point out that a particular person has bad BO and many of their coworkers have complained, instead of being grateful for the feedback, they often get angry or defensive”

That person would be a monster!

The dirty secret of Robin DiAngelo and her ilk is that as much as they talk about “systemic racism” they really think of racism primarily as an interpersonal problem.

Here’s another quote, “The dominant paradigm of racism as discrete, individual, intentional, and malicious acts makes it unlikely that whites will acknowledge any of our actions as racism.”

I mean… All the examples I just cited above involve DiAngelo calling out discrete, individual, intentional acts. I guess sometimes the discrete, individual, intentional acts are non-malicious.

That’s the kind of central hypocrisy and profoundly passive-aggressive style of this kind of discourse. You call out a specific person for a specific act in a very public way, and then, if they get defensive, you can talk about how sad it is that when you told them that the specific thing that they personally did was bad, they didn’t realize you were just talking about systemic racism and it’s awfully silly that they are getting so defensive when all you are talking about is systemic problems, not individual faults.

DiAngelo often talks about how whites need to be less sensitive because we are not in any danger, but, like, most of the concrete problems she addresses aren’t dangerous to black people either.

Which brings me to the last section,

What is the goddamned point of all this?

DiAngelo constantly talks about the absence of cross-racial relationships between blacks and whites, but never really addresses the question of why the hell a black person would want to be friends with a white person. Honestly it sounds like it sucks; we’re all racist. Frankly I don’t see what we bring to the table other than an endless parade of microaggressions and neuroses that could just be avoided altogether by sticking to making friends with your fellow minorities.

A couple of people responding to my blog have called the book racist against whites but that’s not quite right, there’s also this bizarre sort of… Apologizing for how much better off we are then everybody else. It’s taken as basically a given that black people all wish they had the position that we do, but we just don’t let them and they’ll never get it unless we shape up and learn to give it to them.

There’s a tremendous amount of guilt but it’s combined with a massive self-absorption. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that for DiAngelo, the entire world revolves around whites and our conception of ourselves. And I mean that literally:

“...[W]hite supremacy is circulated globally. This powerful ideology promotes the idea of whiteness as the ideal of humanity well beyond the West…

“In his book The Racial Contract, Charles W. Mills argues that the racial contract is a tacit and sometimes explicit agreement among members of the peoples of Europe to assert, promote, and maintain the ideal of white supremacy in relation to all other people of the world. This agreement is an intentional and integral characteristic of the social contract, underwriting all other social contracts.”

Like… All of them? Like relations between China and the Democratic Republic of Congo are underwritten by the belief in white supremacy? White supremacy is in fact integral to the politcal relationship between those two countries?

One of the things I wondered when reading the book was why on earth DiAngelo gets paid so much money to consult. In her telling there are two forces, a white supremacist overclass dedicated to ignoring and minimizing evidence of systemic racism and a minority underclass which is nearly helpless in the face of white supremacy. Which of these groups is paying her five figure speaking fees?

Anyway to continue that quote,

“Mills describes white supremacy as ‘the unnamed politcal system that has made the world what is is today.’”

I mean… I feel like it has a name. It’s named white supremacy. Robin DiAngelo wrote a best-selling book about it that people only bought because they already agree about it existing and being really, really important.

Hey, so, how does Tammy from HR crying about the police shooting a black teenager maintain a global white hegemony that undergirds literally all other social forces?

One thing, at least, that made me glad that I finished the book was seeing DiAngelo state overtly something that I feel has been implicit on much American thinking about race lately:

“When white people ask me what to do about racism and white fragility, the first thing I ask is, ‘What has enabled you to be a full, educated, professional adult and not know what to do about racism?’...”

Uh… You’re asking me how I graduated college without knowing how to upend a massive collusion between every nation in Europe that undergirds all of global politics and economics?

I mean I didn’t actually graduate, maybe “Overturning the entire global paradigm 101” was one of the classes I didn’t get around to.

“If we take that question seriously and map out all the ways we have come to not know what to do, we will have our guide before us. For example, if my answer is that I was not educated about racism, I know that I will have to get educated. If my answer is that I do not know people of color, I will need to build relationships. If it is because there are no people of color in my environment, I will need to get out of my comfort zone and change my environment, addressing racism is not without effort…”

Hey, yeah, but what about the part where I make minimum wage and probably can’t even overthrow Luxemburg, let alone all of Europe?

“Next, I say, ‘Do whatever it takes for you to internalize the above assumptions’ I believe that if we white people were truly coming from these assumptions, not only would our interpersonal relationships change, but so would our institutions. Our institutions would change because we would see to it that they would.”

This is exactly what I have been saying seems to be the dominant belief in America today. If we just teach Sharon from accounting to stop talking over her black co-workers, if Sharon internalizes exactly the right ideas about white supremacy from exactly the right corporate consultants, eventually, once we get our heads straight, there will be a kind of spontaneous eruption of will which will end racism forever.

From talking to more right-wing acquaintances I have come to the belief that many of them essentially agree with that premise. That racism sort of emerges as a kind of spontaneous emanation of wrong-think, and once we have used social pressure and the threat of being fired to get everybody to say the correct things about racism, racism will vanish.

And so the debate in America is no longer about policy; we don’t believe in a racial policy. The debate is about how we ought to talk about racism, with the parties disagreeing on what kind of talk will ultimately cause racism to disappear.

Do we solve police shootings by hiring a diversity consultant to tell the employees of our tech firm about white fragility, or should we hire a different consultant to teach them about color-blindness and treating people as equals?

#white fragility #truly genuinely astonishingly bad books #politcs

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20dollarlolita · 1 year ago

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If anyone is wondering, this tutorial to make this skirt is still a method that works. Both those links are from wayback machine captures from a time before Photobucket betraying us all and deleting pictures.

Yes, I'm still mad about that.

Anyway, in the spirit of seeing if budget lolita was still doable in 2023, here we go with a cost breakdown:

>Main skirt fabric was a $10 walmart 4-yard precut; enough fabric to make waist ties not pictured here >Skirt is fully lined with a polyester bedsheet I got for $1 at a surplus store >The bow lace was part of a bulk purchase, ended up costing 21cents a yard. Skirt probably has 6-8 yards of lace on it. The little vertical strips were scraps from another project. Back shirring on skirt is 1/4" elastic, which covid conveniently made super cheap. >I didn't have the zipper on hand, so I had to buy one for $1 at walmart. As anyone who has been on Wawak knows, that's massively overpaying for zippers.

This skirt is 3" longer and a few sizes larger than the one in the post. I had to make a new cutting layout for the skirt, and it took a fair bit of additional fabric. In addition, to save on fabric width, the "side seams" on this are actually a little bit farther back than the side of the skirt. I cut the back of the skirt to full fabric width, and then added the adjustment for the fullness into the side front pieces. Clarice, who wrote the original tutorial, mentions that the person she made it for was very small, so I sized it up a little bit.

I make sketches like this as I go for personal reference, but maybe it'll be helpful.

In the spirit of livejournal, I "clarified" my sketch by making it more confusing in GIMP. (Your pieces you need to cut will be back: 44"x19.5", cut 1. Side Front, 22"x19.5", cut 2. Center Front, 15"x25.5", cut 1. Frills, 5.5"x44", cut 9 or 10).

So, when we get into it, yeah, if you have a good design (or can copy a good design) and you're willing to put some time into it, you can still do a budget lolita skirt for under $20 of materials, if you're careful. I'm mostly making this post to save which archive.org captures are the ones with working pictures.

(It also helps if you don't mess up on the waistband so many times that it slowly shrinks into a 1" waistband.)

Fun fact: the trim on the ends of the waist ties may or may not be because I hemmed them sloppily and the hem came up bubbly, and zigzagging some lace onto the bottom handily covered up the bubbling. One of the advantages about knowing a decent amount about lolita fashion is that you can look at things and go, "Yeah, if I added x here, it'd be fine," and knowing enough about sewing to go, "yeah, if I do x cheat here, it'll look better" and being able to put the two together and go, "hey, if I cheat here, it'll still look lolita!" It's a good feeling.

Anyway, if anyone else has ever used Clarice's tutorial to make a skirt, I'd love to see it! This is my second time using it, but the last time was almost a decade ago at this point, and I think I've improved a lot since then.

#20dollarlolita #lolita fashion #budget lolita #diy lolita #handmade lolita

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fallenangelicss · 4 months ago

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Dirty Hands (Dirty Fighting)

PAIRING | Rengoku Kyoujurou/Uzui Tengen

WORD COUNT | 2226

SUMMARY | Rengoku and Tengen like to spar. Too bad every time they do they turn into feral animals, obtaining the attention of everyone within hearing distance. Some of the nonsense they spew at each other can sometimes be heard and misinterpreted, leading to some interesting conversations to take place.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | Graphic Depictions Of Violence

A/N | This is my first time writing for the Demon Slayer fandom as well as this ship so I might've not gotten the characteristics of the characters down yet but I'm hoping to get there soon. @synaergy thank you for the name idea <3

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Fixing his grip on the wooden sparring sword in his hands, Rengoku slowed his breath by taking large gasps through his mouth, relaxing his body while his eyes stayed trained on Tengen a few meters across from him. Tengen was in a much different state in comparison to Rengoku. Seeming to be the embodiment of relaxation, Tengen stood tall and proud, holding the waster blade sloppily in his hand as he waited to start. Perhaps Rengoku should be looking at their spar in the same light as Tengen, but he couldn’t help the competitive streak that shot through him.

“Whenever you’re ready, Pretty Boy,” Tengen called out, a crooked grin stretching across his face as he lifted the wooden sparring sword and rested it along his broad shoulders, his whole demeanour screaming cocky. Ignoring the name Tengen had decided to yell out, Rengoku gives him half a second as he drops down into a well-thought-out offensive stance before powering forward. If Tengen blicked, he would’ve missed it, Rengoku almost vanishing into thin air. Although Tengen hadn’t blinked. Spiralling around just as Rengoku’s wooden blade was about to come down, Tengen blocked him midair, grinning as Rengoku landed with their swords still meeting in the middle. “Some warning next time would be nice.”

“You said to start whenever I was ready,” Rengoku stated with his usual grin on his face, not shying away as the test of their strength was put into play. From any outsider's perspective, it would seem Tengen had the advantage given his much taller build and larger frame, the man towering over Rengoku. He also had a few extra years of experience on him but Rengoku tried not to pay too much mind to that; Not when right now his arms were beginning to shake with trying to keep Tengen’s own wooden waster at bay. Before forcing Tengen’s blade to the side, giving him just enough time to backstep out of his reach, Rengoku says, “If you weren’t ready then you could’ve just said so.”

“Why, you little shit,” A low chuckle escaped from Tengen’s lips as he spoke, flexing the sword in his hand before he was the one charging at Rengoku, causing the Flame Hashira to jump back to evade his attack, switching to the defensive. Tengen, however, didn’t let him rest, chasing after Rengoku until he was forced to meet his flying wooden blade. Taking one last leap backwards, using the few milliseconds that distance earned him to change his footing and plunge forward, Rengoku and Tengen’s swords began to meet in quick and precise clashes, the two chunks of wood never staying together for more than a few seconds at a time.

The two of them moved in flashes of colour, never staying in the same spot for more than a moment as they continuously tried to push the other back, giving them less space to move so they’d be more susceptible to taking a hit. Although they were fighting with wood, their Nichirin blades hidden away for when they needed to use them in a real battle, their strikes still left a lasting punch. Speaking of lasting punch, Tengen pushed his body low, making himself move slightly quicker as he barreled into Rengoku, his free arm wrapping around Rengoku’s middle as he ran with him hanging onto his arm.

Slightly dazed by the sudden attack, not expecting Tengen to attempt anything but thrusting his sword at him at that moment, one of Rengoku’s hands clung onto the bare skin of his arm while the other twisted his sword around, slamming the butt of the wooden tool into Tengen’s temple, making Tengen stumble over his feet as he was attacked in any humans natural weak spot. Tengen’s stumbling turned into tumbling as his legs gave out beneath him for a moment, Rengoku dropping from his arm and rolling back as Tengen’s knees hit the ground.

“Hey, that was a dirty move,” Tengen snapped, twisting around to see where Rengoku was standing in a defensive position, not letting his guard down for a second even if Tengen was momentarily on the floor. Slowly pushing himself up from where he was rested on all fours, Tengen faced Rengoku with a scowl, pushing his foot under his discarded blade before kicking it up into the sky and snapping it out of the air with a quick grab, muttering while he did so, “So unflashy.”

“You’re the unflashy one,” Rengoku argued despite the smile he always wore staying adorned on his face, making his argument look a little ridiculous in Tengen’s eyes. For a guy who stood barely past his shoulders, it was hard for Tengen to find anything that the younger Hashira did threatening, Rengoku making everything look adorable no matter what he tried. One of Rengoku’s oddly shaped eyebrows arched up as he questioned in his usual loud voice, “Why were you trying to throw me over your shoulder like one of your wives?”

“Because you are one of my wives,” Came a loud shout from not too far away, catching the attention of Tanjirou, Inosuke and Zenitsu, all of their heads turning to try and see where it had come from. To Tanjirou, it sounded like it had come from the other side of the Butterfly Mansion, just beyond what they could see, and by the looks of it, Inosuke had the same idea, his head facing the general direction in which they heard it. Zenitsu's aura suddenly turned sour at the shout, as if his day had been ruined by the simple presence of whoever owned it.

“We should go and check that noise out,” Tanjirou suggested, waiting for an agreeing nod from Inosuke as he snapped himself into a standing position and a long, drawn-out groan from Zenitsu as if the thought of moving pained him too much. Furrowing his brows at Zenitsu’s sudden deflated persona, the shift occurred lightning quick. “Rengoku might be in trouble.”

“Rengoku should be in bed healing, just like we should be,” Zenitus whined as Tanjirou grabbed onto his hand and began dragging him towards the commotion, Inosuke leading the way with march-like steps. Leaving his boar mask behind on the hot day, Inosuke showed off his dark hair, the tips of it clashing with the bright blue. Tugging uselessly on his arm once, Zenitus gave up when Tanjirou’s hold didn’t immediately break, instead choosing to complain more as he said, “He’s not that much of an idiot that he would purposely go out of his way to worsen his injuries.”

“Just because he’s staying at the Butterfly Mansion doesn’t mean he’s injured,” Tanjirou reasoned, shooting down any and all of Zenitsu’s doubts as they continued onwards, tugging Zenitsu along. Inosuke chose to cut through the main building as he led the way with no real haste in his steps. “He might just be stopping here for a few days while he waits for his next mission.”

“Okay…” Zenitsu deflated, allowing himself to be dragged along almost willingly for the remainder of the short walk. Although there was no rush behind their steps, the three of them still made light work of getting through the mansion, Inosuke pushing open some of the building doors to reveal the voice that had been shouting earlier as well as another.

The scene in front of them left Tanjirou, Inosuke and Zenitsu shocked, the three of them stood in a line as dumbfounded expressions took over their faces. Displayed before them were Rengoku and Tengen rolling around the floor like rabid animals, the both of them attempting to get the upper ground while yelling profundities at the other. Every time it looked like one of them was about to come out successful, the other was able to weasel their way out of the hold they had somehow found themselves stuck in, further repeating the cycle.

“If I’m one of your wives like you like to claim,” Rengoku began booming in his loud voice, Tengen held under him for a few moments as he sat on his chest. Already, Tengen was grabbing hold of Rengoku’s ankle, twisting the two of them around until it looked like Rengoku was going to land underneath him, the action only stopped when Rengoku was able to interlock his fingers around Tengen’s neck. “When are you going to ask my father if you can wed me.”

“I’ll ask him when you finally agree to let me court you,” Breaking out of the headlock that Rengoku had somehow been able to shove him into, Tengen finally snapped the smaller Hashira under him, one of his large hands coming down to hold Rengoku in place. He had been lying there for less than a second and Tengen could already see Rengoku gearing up to try and escape, some absurd tactic flickering to life behind his eyes. Trying to cut off the attack before it even happened, Tengen brought his other hand up to hold Rengoku’s hip in place, grumbling lowly, “I suggest you think very carefully about your next actions.”

Rengoku seemed to soften at that, some of the strain in his body lessening as he stared up at Tengen with wide eyes, breath panting out from his lips. For a few short-lived moments, Tengen thought that would be the end of his struggle and maybe–just maybe–an agreement to finally start the traditional procedures of courting. However, those hopes came crashing down as Rengoku launched himself towards Tengen, his forehead flying towards his face.

“Why are you like this?” Zenitsu’s high-pitched voice screeched out just as Rengoku’s head came crashing into Tengen’s nose, blood immediately spilling from it due to the hard impact. The gasp that followed from Zenitsu not only snapped his two companions out of their shock but also had Rengoku and Tengen’s heads pivoting around to face them.

Both of the Hashria’s faces scrunched at the sight of the younger Demon Slayers, not expecting any spectators as they sparred. Tengen seemed to be more annoyed at their addition though, his eyes rolling at Zenitsu’s interruption as he boredly asked, “Are you talking to him or me?”

“You, you idiot,” Zenitsu cried as he began marking forward, walking to the end of the deck where he stood tall with his arms crossed over his chest. No matter what the circumstances, Zenitsu always seemed to have a bone to pick with Tengen, no matter if they were fighting demons in the Entertainment District or if Tengen had blood dripping down his face from where Rengoku had headbutted him. Both Tanjirou and Inoskue stood behind him with their heads being faceplanted into their hands, waiting for Zenitsu’s outburst to come to an end. “Every time I see you, you’re always doing something! If it’s not kidnapping little girls then it’s harassing your fellow Hashira!”

“You’ve kidnapped little girls?” Rengoku hissed in question, his owlish eyes blinking at Tengen with uncertainty. This was the first time he had heard of anything of the sort.

“That never happened,” Tengen quickly snapped, his head whipping around to face Rengoku. The thought of telling Rengoku had crossed Tengen’s mind a few times but he’d rather live to see another day without facing his future wife-to-be’s husband-to-be's wrath but now that whiny twerp had gone and ruined it. “How about you butt out. What are you even doing here?”

“What are we doing here?” Zenitsu scoffed loudly, steam almost erupting from his ears at the accusation. Pointing his nose up high into the air, Zenitsu’s voice cracked as he said, “We’ve been here all week! You’re the one who just randomly showed up.”

“Stop embarrassing yourself Monitsu,” Inosuke suddenly shouted, charging into Zenitsu’s back and almost knocking him over. Trying to stabilise the both of them quickly, Zenistu threw himself into an upright position with Inosuke clinging to his back, the boar-headed Demon Slayer getting comfortable there. “You’ve whined enough today already. I don’t know how much longer I can sit hear and listen to you scratch about nonsense. Your voice would’ve had you killed in the mountains.”

“Well, good thing we’re not in the mountains,” Tanjirou tried to quickly defuse the situation that was quickly escalating, attempting to pull Inosuke from Zenitsu’s back so they could hide away from the situation they had just made very awkward. When the two showed no signs of moving, Tanjirou dashed in front of them and bowed deeply to Rengoku and Tengen. “My deepest apologies for them. I’ll try and get them under control.”

“You better,” Tengen groaned, hardly sparing Tanjirou any attention, the other two starting to give him a headache. Turning back to Rengoku who was still sitting majority under him, Tengen asked, “Now, where were we?”

“You were telling me the part where you tried to kidnap some girls,” Rengoku prompted, a glare on his face.

“That never happened,” Tengen settled quickly, swearing that he would get back at Zenitsu some way. Staring down at Rengoku, Tengen’s attitude quickly changed, taking note of the positions they were actually in. Leaning down and presenting the bloody nose that had started to dry, he asked, “Moving on, do you think you can kiss it better?”

“No,” Rengoku said sharply.

“Have I told you I loved you today?” Tengen tried again.

“Once you ask my father to wed me, then I’ll hear you.”

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bapple117 · 8 months ago

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Memory Reboot - A One-Sided Radiostatic One-Shot (Vox x Alastor)

Third person - Fluff, Pining, Angst - mild adult references

~ A03 Link ~ text is also included below after the break ~ excuse the crappy art ~

Summary: Every now and then, Vox allows himself a trip down memory lane; back to when he and Alastor were good friends. This night, Vox rediscovers an old bit of memorabilia that has him reminiscing, all about one night when he and the Radio Demon shared a drink or two. The memory is a bittersweet reminder of what could have been, and what almost happened; lips meeting for the sweetest of stolen moments.

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Vox stumbles into his room, clumsy and heavy with drink. He bashes his head into the door as it rebounds; groaning, he rubs at his screen with a grimace.

Drinking alone is always a bad idea. With the other two Vees both out for the night, Vox had allowed himself a little more stalking than he usually does; drinking in his surveillance room, watching and rewatching clips of the Radio Demon going about his day. It’s obsessive; Vox knows it is. He still can’t help himself.

He teeters wildly on his legs now, looking through his belongings for some painkillers for the inevitable screen-ache he’ll have in the morning; where the fuck are they?!

Not a single drawer he searches yields any results. Vox tosses items left and right, searching through masses of cables and piles of clothes. He rifles through his bathroom cabinet, knocking down an assortment of pill bottles in the process; none of them what he needs right now.

“Fuck my life,” the Television Demon mutters to himself.

On his hands and knees, he pulls out a bottom drawer from a huge dresser. Vox moves sloppily with inebriation as he pilfers through all the junk and bric-a-brac. And then - his hand is on something that feels familiar yet forgotten all at once. Vox pulls it out; and there it is.

His electric heart shudders within his chest.

The tiny die-cast CRT TV model that Alastor had gifted to him years ago. So many years ago. So long ago, in-fact, that when Alastor had presented Vox with this small model, it had been exactly what Vox’s own head had looked like. A chunky, heavy, 70s television. Long outdated technology, these days, of course; Vox has upgraded several times over the years since then.

Vox can hardly believe his tired eyes; it’s been years since he thought about this. He remembers the night Alastor gave it to him all too well - too painfully well. Vox sighs; his sadness threatening to leak into the forefront of his drink-weakened mind.

The search for the painkillers now given up on and forgotten, Vox crawls to his bed and lays on it in the dark, the small metal totem still in his hand. Neon lights from the city outside dance and skitter on the walls. Vox stares at the ceiling.

He can’t help himself; the memory begins to play in his mind, like an old VHS recording, discovered and dusty. Vox usually represses these memories, but for some reason, he allows this one to consume his thoughts this night. He drifts off into it; a broken heart indulging itself despite the pain.

---------------------------------

It’s the past. Long, long ago; some time in the 1970s. Vox is drinking with Alastor - the Radio Demon, his friend. They are drinking together in Alastor’s old apartment, sharing each other’s company in the easy way that they used to. The apartment is full of antique furniture and vintage radio paraphernalia; Vox has been here many times, and yet he always eyes Alastor’s decor with the same dry observations.

“You really need to get with the times, Al,” Vox says. “Get some more modern stuff.”

The Television Demon gawks at himself in an ornate mirror on the wall; his on-screen features blink back at him, set in his wide CRT TV head.

“Nonsense,” Alastor calls from the kitchen. “There’s nothing wrong with my decor choices. Some things never go out of style.”

Vox huffs in amusement to himself. Secretly, he adores Alastor’s presentation. Vox looks up to the Radio Demon; he admires him. Vox wants to be just like Alastor, really. Powerful, respected, smart, classy. Alastor is everything Vox wants to be. At this point in time, Vox is a much weaker Overlord than Alastor, having only been in Hell for less than twenty years. It’s never an issue between them, of course, but Vox knows he is inferior. One day, he’ll be better.

The Television Demon joins his friend in the kitchen then; Alastor is pouring new glasses of drink for them. Something expensive.

“Woah,” Vox says, laughing. “What are we celebrating?”

“Well, I was wondering when you’d ask,” Alastor says sassily. “I took down another one of my rivals today.”

Vox blinks. His screen buzzes.

“Another Overlord?” He asks, both impressed and appalled.

Alastor nods, pleased.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Alastor says, grinning. “It was no effort at all, really. Hardly worth you looking so gormless over. What fun it was though!”

Vox laughs nervously.

“Well, uh, that’s great, Al!” He says, accepting the drink. “You gotta promise not to ever try and take me down like that though, huh?”

It’s a weak joke; both demons know that it stinks of a true fear. Alastor scoffs.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Vox,” the Radio Demon says. “How long have we known each other now, hmm?”

Vox scans his memories to try and answer accurately.

“Uhhh… Well years,” he says. “Almost two decades.”

“Exactly. And have I ever once betrayed you?” Alastor asks, gesturing for them to sit at the table.

Vox follows Alastor’s lead and sits.

“I guess not,” Vox says.

The two demons sit in silence for a while; which is odd, given how prone to idle conversation they both usually are. Alastor hums along to a jazz tune playing in the background; Vox fiddles with his glass.

Alastor is deep in contented thought; eyes closed, a red claw tapping at the table to the rhythm of the song. Vox takes a gulp of his drink, still not knowing what it is; his question is answered as soon as it hits his throat. Some kind of very strong spiced rum, neat on ice. The Television Demon coughs a little, white noise filling the silence. Alastor grins.

Vox looks up at his friend then; sees his smile. His own grin creeps up on to his screen. How simple it is between them; how easy it’s always been. Just the two of them. Alastor doesn’t have many friends; Vox is honoured to be one of them. Friends. Vox wishes they were so much more.

“You know,” Vox says then, staring at his drink. “We could be something. Together, I mean.”

Alastor’s neck snaps a little as his head twitches to the side in confusion.

“Something?”

Vox hastens to clarify.

“You know. A team. Take down Overlords together,” he says.

Alastor seems to genuinely consider this for a moment; he drifts away into the thought of it. Vox lets himself hope for a second; his hopes are dashed just as quickly.

“Hmm,” Alastor says. “You know me, though! I prefer to work solo.”

Vox slumps a little. His work shirt sleeves are rolled up messily; one begins to loosen from its turn-up, so he focuses on re-rolling it.

“I know,” he says. “Doesn’t it ever get lonely, though?”

“I don’t think so,” Alastor says, amused.

“Oh.”

The Radio Demon ponders this for a beat longer; he senses he has insulted his friend somehow. This is meant to be a nice evening celebrating his latest victory; Alastor supposes he should show a little courtesy to keep things jovial.

“I suppose it does, sometimes,” Alastor says.

Vox feels his inner wiring twisting in his abdomen.

“Oh?”

Alastor rolls his eyes; must he elaborate?

“Well, I suppose having more allies couldn’t hurt,” he says.

“Oh, well,” Vox says. “I could… I could be that for you?”

Alastor grins.

“In your current state, I feel you may not be of any use to me, Vox old pal,” Alastor teases. “Come back to me when you’re stronger, hmm?”

The Radio Demon knocks playfully on the side of Vox’s clunky CRT head; it echoes within him. Vox knows that Alastor only means this as a cheeky gibe between friends; it wounds him all the same.

Vox lets out a nervous laugh as response and tries to conceal the hurt.

The night is salvaged somewhat; the two demons continue to drink into the early hours. They chat, they listen to music, they share stories about various occurrences in Hell. Despite the fact they are undying souls in burning eternity, they are also both something else; two beings who both died as young men, now frozen in time.

Alastor isn’t who he’ll truly be just yet; neither is Vox. In this memory, they are their younger, slightly sweeter selves. It’s enough to make present-day Vox cry with how much he’d give anything to have those days back.

Towards the end of the night, the two demons sit side by side together, wasted. They use the sofa as a backrest as they sit sloppily on the floor. Vox hiccups and it sounds like a channel being changed; Alastor laughs.

“You know,” the Radio Demon starts. “I do enjoy these little chats of ours, despite our conflicting technology.”

Vox is giddy; he nods, eager.

“One day I’m gonna be great, Al,” Vox says, suddenly. “I’m gonna build an empire. It’s gonna be huge.”

Alastor smiles; it’s the soft, fond smile of a friend humouring someone.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Vox says, slurring slightly. “And I’ll be as strong as you - no! - even stronger.”

Alastor is laughing; genuine and warm. Vox grins wide at the sound of it.

“I’ll take over all of Hell!” Vox says, clenching a fist.

Alastor chuckles.

“Hm. That sounds nice,” he says, drunk and feeling it.

“Well,” Vox starts. “You’ll be there with me, right?”

Alastor quirks his head.

“Will I?”

“Sure! We’ll do it together,” Vox says, wicked intent on his screened features. “We’ll rule Hell together. No fucker will cross us with our combined skills.”

Alastor is giggling; Vox wants to climb into the sound of it and live there.

“Well, that is a lofty concept, to be sure,” Alastor says. “But it is pleasing, I have to admit. You truly do get some devious ideas don’t you?”

“Fuck yeah I do!” Vox says, delighted.

Alastor smiles to himself, looking away.

“Well, if that ever comes to fruition, you can count on me being there,” he says.

“Yeah?!” Vox is beaming. “I can’t wait for what the future brings, Al. This old thing will be the first to get an upgrade, that’s for sure.”

Vox taps his own head; even now in the late 70s, his TV set head is looking a bit vintage. Vox just needs to wait for Earth technology to advance and filter down; he can’t wait to be better. Stronger. Faster. Alastor tenses as a thought seems to come to him.

“That reminds me!” The Radio Demon says. “I have something for you.”

Alastor retrieves something from his pocket and hands it to a captivated Vox; it's a tiny metal die-cast model of a Sony Triniton KV-1820UB television set. It looks just like Vox’s current head.

“Here you are,” Alastor says, pleased with himself.

Vox is enamoured; the Radio Demon doesn’t do gifts. This is special; it means Vox is special.

“Al, I don’t know what to say,” Vox says, his nerves alive and crackling. “I can’t believe you got this for me… I love it.”

Alastor grins wide.

“I got one for me, too,” he says, holding up a tiny model of an old radio. “I found a charming boutique selling all kinds of little novelties. Aren’t they fun?”

Vox is astonished; not only did Alastor get him a gift, he got one for himself to match. This surely is symbolic? Vox’s receivers are scrabbling to interpret the signals Alastor is giving off.

“Wow, yeah, that’s uh… That’s cute, Al,” Vox says, shakily. “It’s not like you to give gifts.”

Alastor laughs.

“Well. My conquest today put me in an especially good mood, I suppose,” he says.

Vox nods.

“Thank you, Al,” he says, screen blinking. “I will treasure this. I mean it.”

Alastor’s quota for sincerity has reached its limit; eager to return the conversation to playful jibes and gossip, the Radio Demon scoffs. Vox grins; he knows Alastor hates to be perceived as kind, despite the fact he can be. Vox shoves himself into Alastor’s shoulder in a playful bump.

“You’re goin’ soft on me, old man,” Vox jokes; Alastor pretends to be aghast.

“Old man?” He scorns. “How dare you, Vox. I only died two decades before you and we were both more or less the same age at death. Watch your tongue.”

Vox chuckles to himself. The two demons sit together for a little while longer in peaceful quiet; Vox’s mind is full of static. He’s processing, thinking. Vox has tried to broach this topic before, but he can’t help himself; he needs to push it again.

“Hey, uh, Al?” He says.

Alastor looks at him and hums an acknowledgement. Vox’s gaze shifts around nervously.

“Do you remember that… conversation, we had a while ago?” Vox says.

Alastor does remember; he pretends for now that he doesn’t. He shakes his head. Vox exhales shakily.

“Look, I, uh… I know you don’t like talking about… feelings, and stuff, but…”

Alastor wants this nipped in the bud as soon as possible.

“Is this about your infatuation, hmm?” The Radio Demon says, trying to sound casual about it. “I’ve told you Vox. It will pass, it’s just a-“

“No,” Vox says, urgent. “It won’t, Al, and you know it.”

Vox grabs Alastor’s hand; the Radio Demon doesn’t recoil. He lets his claws sit limply within Vox’s; a tiny concession for this display of vulnerability. And anyway; they’ve linked hands before, when dancing or fleeing a crime scene, or such. No big deal. Alastor sighs.

“You know I can’t give you want you want,” he says, radio filter slipping away. “This is all I can give you. My time. My friendship, my consort to you as a fellow Overlord.”

Vox is exasperated.

“Can’t you give me just a little bit more?” He asks.

Alastor avoids the Television Demon’s gaze.

“I don’t think so,” he says.

Vox grabs Alastor’s chin in his, then; pulling it in his direction to make Alastor look at him.

“How do you know you won’t like it?” Vox says. “You’ve never even tried it.”

Alastor blushes at the sudden contact, the intrusiveness of it. He’s flustered simply because Vox is being so forward; any sign of aggressive intent is entertaining to Alastor, of course.

“Why don’t you let me just try?” Vox says, his voice a thin whine.

“Vox, old friend, come on now-“

“Why won’t you let me just kiss you?” Vox whispers. “Please, Al.”

Alastor hesitates; if he relents, will it be enough to just shut Vox up about this once and for all? This topic cropping up every couple of years is getting tiresome. And... he does care about Vox. Alastor loves him, in his own way; platonic but true.

“Please, Al,” Vox murmurs, his eyes fixed on Alastor’s lips. “I’m begging you. I know it’ll feel right when it happens.”

Vox’s hand tightens around Alastor’s chin; he’s trying to pull him inwards. Alastor’s heart rate quickens; annoyingly. He’s a deer in headlights; drunk and unsure how to retaliate. Vox is closing the distance between their faces; Alastor can feel their hot breath exchanging in the small gap between their mouths.

Alastor’s ears are flat against his head; Vox is staring at his lips.

“Please,” he whispers again.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” Alastor whispers back.

“Please,” Vox begs, desperate.

Alastor huffs in defeat, and Vox knows he has won. Vox leans in and presses his screen to Alastor’s mouth; for a moment, the Radio Demon is rigid. But then… his mouth is moving; Vox is elated. Alastor is relenting. Vox cannot believe it. Alastor is kissing him back; his hand at the edge of Vox’s screen. Their mouths move together quickly, the taste of rum amongst it all. Vox's mind is awash with joy.

Yes, YES. Fucking YES! This is it, this is IT!

Vox moans into Alastor’s mouth; he risks letting his tongue breech Alastor’s lips, tries sticking it down Alastor’s throat -

Alastor pulls away; Vox is devastated. Too far.

“Hmm!” Alastor says, recovering, trying to sound light-hearted. “No, still not for me, I don’t think.”

Vox is panting, red in the screen. He’s hard; of course he is. Vox’s eyes dart all over Alastor, looking for signs - proof that he did like it.

“No, Al, come on,” Vox says. “Please, you know it works, WE work, c'maaan!”

Alastor is sad; a part of him does wish he could give Vox what he wants. It would make things so much easier; it would ensure keeping his loyalty, for one. And… well. It would make things a bit less lonely. But Alastor just can’t let himself go there.

“I’m sorry, Vox,” he says, genuinely melancholy. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want from me. I really am.”

“No,” Vox is angry. “It cannot be like this, please, we were so close-“

“I think it’s high time we went to bed, hmm?” Alastor says. “You’re in no state to get yourself home. You can sleep on the sofa.”

“Al, stop, just, can we talk about this? Can we try again, I’ll go slower, I promise,” Vox says, grasping at straws.

Alastor smiles weakly. He reaches up and turns one of Vox’s dials fondly; Vox’s erection twitches in his jeans.

“You’ve just had too much to drink, hmm?” Alastor says. “We’ll sleep this off and tomorrow it’ll all be forgotten about.”

Alastor stands then; Vox groans, his screen in his hands.

“We’ll be back to normal tomorrow, eh, old pal?” Alastor says with forced jollity.

Vox sighs; it’s guttural. He looks up at the Radio Demon, agonised.

“I’m never going to be back to normal,” Vox says. “I’m always going to want this. I’m always going to want you.”

Alastor hesitates; he looks forlorn. Only in the eyes, of course; but his smile is a tight, thin line on his face.

“I know," he says.

Vox's heart shatters in his chest; not for the first time.

"Do try to get over it, though, won’t you?” Alastor says, and he turns to leave for his bedroom. “Get some sleep.”

Vox is left alone in the living room; ruined.

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The memory of that night, so many decades ago, drifts away from present-day Vox, just as cruelly as Alastor had slipped from his grasp.

The pain of it - and indeed, remembering what came later - is unbearable; Vox can only cope with these memories now by wanting Alastor dead. Just so he’d be gone for good; just to rid himself of the pain of knowing Vox never got to keep him. He came close, of course; some years later, in the 80s. For a while, Vox had had Alastor; it had been so sweet. Vox doesn’t let himself think on this, for now. It’s too brutal. He’d be a mess; for now, he needs to compose himself. Vox places the die-cast vintage TV model on his bedside table and looks at it for a few beats.

I wonder if Alastor still has his radio model.

I wonder if he still thinks of me.

Vox curls into a ball in his bed; the truth hums around him, thick and heavy, like electricity in the air before a thunderstorm.

He’ll never love me like I love him.

He never did.

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This story continues in:

Bluest Monday

Read all my stuff on AO3 🍎

104 notes · View notes

starzwithapen · 11 months ago

Text

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

VIVA / GN!READER / CLAY ☆ poly dating hcs !

Headcanons for being in a polyamorous relationship with these two !! Reader is gender neutral and this is ENTITRELY self indulgent lmao the target audience is ME

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

☆ if you're more bubbly and excitable like Viva- you and her team up to help Clay unwind after work, walking into the admin building every few minutes to help him take regular breaks

☆ if you're more serious like Clay, you and him help Viva stay grounded and not get too in over herself from excitement- making sure she calms down and thinks things through

☆ they're both very grateful for having you, and they show it in different ways!

☆ just know you'll always be sporting a little braid in your hair throughout the day- Viva loves to add little hair charms so you two can match [and tries to rope Clay into it, too]

☆ all three of you have matching bracelets, and you'd be surprised to know that it was actually Clay who made them! The thread is tied off a little sloppily, but he tried to join you and Viva in something you both loved, and it warmed your heart and had Viva squealing

☆ Clay tries to be smooth and subtle but Viva gets too impatient lol

- "Sooo.....I was thinking-" "We want to go out with you." "HEY- I was gonna, y'know, build up to it!" "You were taking too loonnggg!"

☆ I'd actually imagine you or Clay had to be the ones to confess! Viva's a very affectionate person in general, but with something as delicate and important to her as this, she's scared of changing your dynamic and what it could bring [and is afraid of either of you not feeling the same and leaving her behind]

☆ Once she gets over that initial fear the PDA is amped up by 100! She's holding your hands and dragging you across the golf course, constant hugging and kisses in public

☆ Clay's a little more quiet about it- he doesn't want the other trolls thinking he's gone soft, but....he'll link his pinkie with yours and lean down to kiss your forehead when no one's looking

☆ They're not the type to get jealous- Viva loves seeing you and Clay being all cute together, and Clay's glad you two have each other when he's busy with work

☆ Speaking of- if Clay's taking too long working on something and won't take a break? You and Viva are sitting behind him on the couch being as dramatic and ridiculous as possible

☆ "ohhh....I'm just so cold and miserable....if only our boyfriend would give us the time of day!" Viva slumps back on the cushions and puts a hand across her heart, trying to hold back her smile, "Viva, it's hopeless....he cares only for calculus and equations, the cheater." You both look at each other and burst out into a fit of giggles. Clay sighs and turns his chair around, opening his arms wide for a hug "fine, fine. Get over here."

☆ It gets a little hard to cuddle with 3 people [and a work table that Clay insists on, because these supplies won't order themselves] but you all make it work

- it's usually Clay in the middle, you sat in his lap with your arms wrapped around his waist, and Viva behind the both of you fiddling with Clay's hair and gossiping with you

☆ Clay really likes reading aloud to you both- he knows Viva can't sit still long enough to finish his favorite books, though she does try, and he doesn't really mind it. Reading out loud to you makes it more of a date activity, and your reactions make reading all the more fun

- [especially when Viva gasps at the plot twists and you fumble over Clay's shoulder to make sure he's not messing with you, and the book really did say that]

☆ Viva LOVES sleepovers, and you three usually have them at your place. While Viva's house is perfect for sleepovers, she tends to get too lazy to make her bed [and you'd rather not sleep on sticky candy], and Clay's bedroom is just.....well.

- "it's distinguished!" "No- no, Clay, it's just sad."

☆ Clay's surprisingly clingy in the mornings- while Viva's up and ready to go, rushing to bring you a mug of your favorite drink and kiss you, Clay's clinging onto you and shoving his head into your back to stay away from the sunlight

☆ Viva can really unwind with you, being open and vulnerable without the fear of being weak or being left behind- she knows you'll always be there, by her side

☆ Clay can be his true self around you, without forcing himself to have this serious image all the time- he knows you see him for all he is, and if he has fun around you it won't be all you define him as

☆ The putt putt trolls all know you're a close trio- to the point that seeing any of you without the other two feels wrong somehow, even before you all started dating

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rosesbxrry · 2 years ago

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Links for Sunghoon 🔞

Warnings: this contains nsfw links and explicit commentary imagines on my end. Afab! Reader. Minors do not interact. Of course, this is all fictional and none of the materials represents them.

a/n: this a new format of writing I’ve been indulging. It’s a lot of fun to write, and a lot quicker to complete while writing my other wips. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and definitely helps that I was working on this while they drop the concept photos for the full version 😮‍💨😮‍💨

Main masterlist

He fucks you doggy style when you wear those cute thigh high socks

Sunghoon was quivering on his knees at the sight of you in a skimpy lingerie, a baby pink color that matches the sheer thigh-high socks. His dark eyes linger at the small bows adorn at the sides, and the carnal urge to fuck you in it takes over like a wrecking ball. He’ll squeeze the flesh at the top of your socks, leaving deep crescent indents on the skin from his fingernails. “You drive me so insane, you don’t even know it.” He groans against your neck, biting and sucking hickeys on your collarbone. “You act all innocent and look so sweet, but I know what a dirty mind you really have.” Your moan loudly, clawing at his back desperately when you feel him press his huge bulge against your stomach. He hooks a finger on the top of your sock, pulling at the elastic hem before releasing it to smack on the flesh of your thighs. “You dress up like my pretty little angel just to get fucked like a whore, didn’t you?” You whimpered at how delicious the impact felt, squeezing your thighs together at the pool of wetness drenching your pussy. With a devilish smirk on his face— Sunghoon felt the insatiable hunger at how your body trembles in his arms. “Ass up and head down, doll. I’m gonna make you regret wearing something cute to make me fuck the shit out of you.”

Bending you over any surface so he can fuck you full of his cum like a toy

Your upper body is not completely rested on the table’s surface, enabling him access to your tits— pulling and pinching on your nipples as he pounds you from behind. He’ll reach out to grope your boobs, loving how it threatens to spill from his grip at how much it bounces when he thrusts his hips hard and fast. His hands will move to your love handles, hitting that spot where you scream the loudest over and over again until your head is buried deep into the table’s surface, drooling at how good his big cock was stretching your pussy. Fuck, Sunghoon can’t get enough of this view of you— making him delirious and high on pleasure, and the wet smacking that echoes heightens the tension in the room even more. “Yeah, you like that? Like how I fuck your pussy like a toy?” He’ll taunt, watching your back tense up at his words. “Oh, fuck yes—“ You drawled out, eyes rolling and back arching as you felt his fingers playing with your swollen clit. He was not gentle with the ball of nerve, swirling it back and forth with the pace of his deep thrust. “So close, I’m gonna come…..” Another reason why he loves fucking you in this position? Once he pulls out after cumming inside, he will watch with hooded eyes at how you’ll spread your legs wide for him to see his thick milky seed dripping out of your spent pussy with a proud smile.

Sunghoon likes pinning you against the wall because he wants you close to him

He likes to show off how much he can pin you to the wall with just one hand, caging you with his built body until you feel his weight envelop your whole figure. He'll kiss you sloppily on the lips, swiftly hooking one of your legs around his waist. "I wanna fuck you so bad," He pushed his hard cock into you without warning, not letting you adjust to his size as he began thrusting. "I love you so much that all I want to do is fuck this tight pussy until you can't walk." The initial pain started to wear off, allowing you to clench your walls around him every time he pulled out. “I-I love you, Sunghoon…please fuck me harder….” You gasped out. He didn't waste his time, capturing your lips again in a deep, hungry kiss that took your breath away. You wrap your hands around his neck, deepening the taste of his tongue in your mouth. He did the same, sucking on your bottom lip desperately as he secured your leg closer to his hips. Passionate tension grew immensely ravenous, a suffocating notion that only this position could grant him. Sunghoon would do anything to make love to you at such proximity— ensuring that each other's attention was pledged to this moment's shared pinnacle of pleasure.

When he notices the twitch of your expression and the way your hot walls spasm around his length, it signals him that you are close and he softly murmurs close to your ear like a lullaby. "That's it, my love. Come for me."

When his guilty pleasure is to have passionate shower sex because you feel like heaven under the water

You know, the moment he uttered those words— still standing in front of your shared apartment, a slight nod in understanding from you was aimed his way. “Join me in the shower?” Something like this was nothing unexpected from him. Sunghoon would often feel burned out from his hectic schedule, and his way of reviving his dire condition at the end of busy work day was to have each other’s naked body together— letting the hot water shed the tense muscles under his skin. “Tell me if it’s too hot,” He said from behind, wet hair sticking to his forehead. You were perched on your back against his chest, holding you firm with his hands groping to feel your ample breast. You chuckled at his doting words, especially when he was buried deep inside of you the moment you were under the water.

“I want it to be hotter, can you do that?” You push your hips back, feeling the tip of his cock kissing the deepest end of your womb. Sunghoon let out a deep moan, kissing the expanses of your neck so that his lips were melting you to the bone. “Anything for my princess.” He starts to rock his hips back and forth, the movement causing your tits to rub against the foggy glass door of the wall. Somehow, the water softened the action, yet the intensity never faltered— a slow and soft rhythm that insinuated how raw and intimate his thrust was.

He wouldn’t pull out even after finishing, basking in the after-sex glow while cock warming you until the heat becomes pleasurably unbearable.

Touching himself when he misses you a lot after being away from each other

Sunghoon is a patient man; he can wait a little while to come home and indulge himself with the help of your presence.

However, his preservation was slowly crumbling in both body and mind. Evidently, he was becoming too horny, so he took matters into his own hands while pulling out his hoodie— the one you’ll always wear around the house with nothing but a lacy underwear.

Your faint smell was still there, enticing his body that sends blood straight to his cock. Sunghoon strips down naked, laying on top of the clothing as he teasingly ruts his hips to the thought of you underneath him.

He’ll let out a sharp inhale, squeezing his eyes at the friction of the hoodie against his hard dick. He imagines you’ll warp your legs around his hips, thrusting up to meet him halfway, moaning close to his ears to go faster and harder. Your erect tits will graze on his chest, causing him to buck into the hoodie deeper, rougher.

“S-Sunnghoon! Shit, right there— hmmm!”

He was so high at the thought of you that he could envision your voice moaning his name.

Sunghoon reached up to roll a nipple between his fingertips, the sensation causing him to leak out more precum with gritted teeth. His movement starts to pick up, ecstasy overwhelming his body from the tip of his cock to his heavy balls.

He needed one more push, taking his wet cock in a fist and jerking the length while thumbing the red slit— the way you always like to play with him. Sunghoon choked on a sob, arching his back while repeating your name like a prayer, ropes of hot cum shooting up to bathe his abs with white.

With a hand over his eyes, his chest was panting with exhaustion, reminding him to borrow maybe a pair of panties from you the next time he’s away.

Permanent Taglist: open/ take this form to be added!

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#enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon smut #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon hard hours #enhypen oneshots smut #enhypen sunghoon x reader smut #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop hard hours #kpop smut #enhypen sunghoon smut oneshots #enhypen smut imagines #enhypen smut oneshots #enhypen smut scenarios #park sunghoon smut

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pe0ple3ater · 8 months ago

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Smiles. Tazercraft weed fic. I'm too tired to say something clever or funny here, just enjoy :)

The room is smoky, with afternoon light pouring in through the half-opened windows, setting their bedroom warmly.

Mike's lying back against the headboard with a lapful of Pac. His hand tightens on the more petite man's jaw, holding him still and smiling lazily at him. Mike raises the lit blunt to his lips, takes a long drag, pulls it away, and sets it down in their ashtray. He leans forward and presses his and Pac's lips together, sharing the smoke between them as they kiss sloppily. They're both very high already, floaty and lethargic. They're getting to Mike's favorite part of the smoke sesh, though, where Pac stops trying to hide how soaked he is and starts getting needy. Mike likes having Pac needy. It happens every time, and Mike has him trained to get horny when they smoke. They always end up fucking anyway. It just feels so lovely like this when everything is warm and soft. Mike likes making Pac feel good.

Pac's dressed for it, too, in cute little neon green lace panties and one of Mike's shirts. Mike himself is just in his boxers.

They pull apart from the kiss, and Pac whines softly, hands sliding down from where they'd been resting on Mike's shoulders and resting on his waist. He squirms in Mike's lap and leans down to kiss him again, licking into his mouth and digging his nails into the fat at Mike's waist. Mike grunts softly and shifts them so that Pac is straddling his thigh. Mike grabs the half-smoked blunt and holds it to Pac's lips. Pac breathes in, and his eyes flutter. Mike feels heat shoot through him, and his leg presses up between Pac's thighs meanly. Pac moans softly and grinds down; he's fucking soaked; Mike can feel it through the thin fabric separating them. Mike's starting to fill out in his boxers, and honestly, the arousal buzzing under his skin is a pleasant background noise.

Mike pushes Pac to lie down. Holding himself up on his elbows, Pac looks up at Mike with a confused head tilt. Mike grabs the ashtray and blunt and sets them next to Pac.

"Smoke, I'll take care of this," Mike says and drags his knuckle feather light against Pac's panty-covered cunt. There's a considerable wet spot that Mike plans on making ten times worse. Pac smiles dopily at him and nods, grabbing a pillow to lean on and getting comfortable. Mike settles himself between Pac's legs, pulling his full one to rest over his shoulder and using his hand to pin the other to the bed. Pac groans softly, and his head falls back. Mike watches him take a long drag from the blunt and pets two fingers up and down Pac's pussy, just tracing the shape of his folds and lightly pressing against his hard little cock. He leans down and presses a soft kiss against his dick, feels it twitch under his lips and smiles.

"Mikey," Pac's already moaning, all breathy and soft. Mike laughs a little and drags his tongue against the wet spot on Pac's underwear, enjoying the little gasp it drags from his soulmate's mouth and the fuzz of pleasure through their link. He laps at the soft fabric and lets Pac squirm against him, needy for more. He keeps going until the panties are sticking like a second skin to Pac's cunt. He pulls back and grins, reaching blindly for his communicator and snapping a picture just for him. Pac whimpers, having finished the blunt, and covers his face with his hands. Mike grins wolfishly and tugs the underwear off.

Mike doesn't feel like fucking Pac, he hopes he understands. So he leans in and locks his lips around Pac's little dick, sucking and lapping at the sensitive little bundle. Pac's back arches, and his hands fly to Mike's hair, tightening in the stands and twisting hard. Mike smiles and presses two thick fingers slowly inside of him. Pac groans and clenches around the intrusion, melting back against the bed and letting himself go to the pleasure Mike is offering him.

Pac is so high that he can't talk or do anything but moan, giggle, and squirm. Mike pays careful attention to their link and pushes through the haze to keep track of Pac's enjoyment. Usually, this goes well; they both enjoy intoxication a lot, but Mike would hate for this to get spoiled because Pac gets overwhelmed. Pac is a mess above him, mouth hanging open and eyes shut tight. Mike laughs and doubles down on his efforts.

The weed makes everything better. Mike brings Pac to orgasm after orgasm. Pac's muscular thighs clench around his head, and Mike groans softly, three fingers stretching him out now. Mike pulls away when Pac comes down from his sixth or seventh orgasm of the afternoon. He presses one last kiss to Pac's twitchy and sensitive cunt and sits up, wiping Pac's slick off his mouth and grinning at him.

"Good?" he asks, his hands running affectionately up and down Pac's stomach. He likes the way the muscles clench and twitch under his hands. Pac opens his eyes and looks at Mike hazily, his mind gone to the drugs and pleasure. He smiles and nods slowly, stretching out like a lounging cat and motioning for Mike to lay down.

Mike smiles and obliges, laying his head on Pac's chest and his arms around his waist.

#qsmpnsfw #m!ke #p@c #they smoke weed #and have sex #what more is there to want?#I love intox I think m!ke does too #big fan of him

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girlboypersonthingy · 9 months ago

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Can I request Matt with a cosplayer s/o? I can totally see them doing cosplay couples such as Link and Zelda, David and Lucy, Zhongli and Tartaglia, Jean and Lisa... And please could It be fluff (and maybe something spicy If you want)? Thank you!! 🩷

PLZ IM SO WEAK FOR THIS REQUEST OML !!! Thank you for this 🙏🏻 also sorrrryyyyy this took me literally forever to get to. ENJOY~

Note: FUCK IT!!!! TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY IDCCCC

Cosplay Couple 🧡

This dweeb would for sure be the one to bring all the ideas to you. I could see him running up to you, practically shaking from excitement as he takes a deep breath then tells you his thoughts.

“Link and Zelda, hm? That sounds fun but Link is canonically shorter than Zelda sooo…”

If you’re shorter than him, he’s immediately like “HELL YEAH!!! ILL BE THE PRINCESS. IM GONNA WEAR A DRESS!”

If you’re taller than him, he immediately gets flirty. “Oooh~ I can’t wait to see you dressed up like a princess. You’re gonna be so freaking adorbs.”

Honestly he gives zero fucks about gender roles and stuff like that. If he wants to dress as a female character, he will. And he won’t do some gender bent version of it, he’s going full out girly girl.

But he likes dressing as male and other gendered characters too. He just likes to cosplay his fav characters and sometimes his favs are girls. 🤷🏻 whatevs

Will absolutely take you to comicon or any other fun convention. He’d be running around like a kid in a candy store with $100.

Might even get too excited. Like running into people, tripping and falling type excited. You may have to hold his hand or put him on one of those money backpack leash things for kids lmao

Will also beg you like a million times to take pics of him with any cosplayers that he thinks are really cool and well done.

Fucking cutie dork is like ✌🏻😃 in every pic

Also asks several different people at different times throughout the day to take pics of you two together and when he looks back at the photos, he smiles all big.

At some point, he’ll drag you off to a private corner or to a single stall bathroom or even back to the car to dishevel your costume a bit with gentle groping and touches as you guys sloppily make out.

Probably messes up your hair, wig, makeup. Maybe all three. You might have to tell him to chill out cuz he’ll totally try to take you back home for some quality time together right now.

If yall are more into the ‘cosplay for a video and post it online but don’t leave the house’ thing, he’s totally fine with that too.

He wouldn’t care if no one even saw your cosplays but each other bc either way, it’s a lot of fun and he loves the quality time spent with you.

Always asks you to help with the makeup part of any cosplay. I couldn’t see him being very good with makeup so he’s gonna rely on you.

Also he sucks bc you’ll take hours to get into your cosplay, trying to perfect your look and Matt will ruin it all with his big, grabby hands and his soft, slobbery lips within minutes.

But god forbid you wreck his cosplay from being all handsy and kissy, he’ll pout about it for the rest of the day.

“Aawwww, (Y/N)!!! No! Why?! I looked so goooddddd, ugh!”

Back to the ‘fuck gender roles’ thing…Matt would find you so fucking hot cute in any cosplay, regardless of your gender or the characters’ gender.

If you are a fem who wants to dress as a masc character, he’s like 😍🥵

If you are a masc who wants to dress as a fem character, he’s like 😳🥰

If you’re anything in between or non binary or whatever, he doesn’t care. He vibes with you soooo heavy so your looks or your sexuality or your gender identity don’t bother him. If anything, your unique sense of yourself makes him adore you even more.

ALSO ALSO same goes with height, weight, skin color. If you wanna cosplay a character that actually looks nothing like you, is way taller than you or way thinner than you, he’s there to help you get it as accurate as you can

Tells you at least 100 times that it’s just dress up and doesn’t have to be perfect

But also tells you you’re always perfect in the same breath

He’ll support you in any way no matter what.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld #voltron x reader #voltron x you #matt vld x reader #matt holt x reader #matt vld #matt voltron #voltron matt #matt x reader #matthew holt #matt holt #vld matt

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thesakuragarnet · 7 months ago

Text

Rays of Lust

Summary: Sunlight filters in through the curtains of Hawks’ apartment, casting thin rays over the tangled bedsheets and highlighting the two bodies intertwined in the bed. OR Hawks and Dabi have sleepy, uncoordinated, emotional morning s3x.

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS BENEATH THE KEEP READING SECTION

Non-Spicy Tags: DabiHawks, heavy smut, swearing, making out, Dabi cries blood, sleepy cuddles

Word Count: 1,645 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: sub b0ttom Dabi, t0p d0m Hawks, morning s3x, aftercare, sleepy s3x, foreplay, a n a l sex, fr0ttage, multiple s3x positions

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight filters in through the curtains of Hawks’ apartment, casting thin rays over the tangled bedsheets and highlighting the two bodies intertwined in the bed. It’s a cold October morning, and a chill runs down Hawks’ spine, the light shining on his eyelids and forcing him to stir. He blinks through his blurred, sleepy vision to see Dabi passed out, chin almost pressing into the top of his head with one arm lazily draped over his wing. Keigo’s face is pressed up right against Dabi’s neck, and he instinctively starts softly sinking his teeth into the scarred flesh. He could never get enough of kissing Dabi…the way he felt…the way he tasted…Hawks was obsessed . The pressure wakes Dabi up with a breathy groan, pleasure pooling in the pit of his stomach at the feeling of his lover’s tongue on his skin.

“G’morning,” Dabi sleepily grunts, practically melting at the sensation and leaning into his lover’s embrace as Hawks pulls him closer, running a hand slowly down his back. Dabi shivers, back slightly arching into the Pro’s touch.

“Mmmmorning,” Hawks huffs in return, peppering the healthy flesh on his chest in hickeys. Dabi borderline whines before haphazardly moving his fingers through Hawks’ feathers. The Pro Hero moans at the sensation, his voice low and gravelly in his throat as arousal builds between his legs. His brain is a tangled mess of groggy thoughts, but steadily, the need for Dabi starts pulsing through his veins. His dick brushes against Dabi’s, and the fire-user whines as his cock slowly hardens. They’re never this frisky in the morning, but Dabi’s clearly not opposed to it.

“ Fuck ,” The word falls from Dabi’s lips in a raspy whisper, and Hawks catches on, lust glazing over his eyes as he starts rocking his hips, deliberately rubbing their cocks together. Dabi’s eyelids flutter, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He’s so fucking touch-starved, and suffocating, sloppy foreplay seems like heaven to start the day with.

“I want you bad , baby,” Hawks slurs with a yawn, and Dabi mumbles his reciprocation, a smirk playing at his lips through labored breaths at the thought. He was gonna get way more than foreplay this morning.

Hawks grabs the underside of his thigh, pushing his legs up and apart, one of his hands cupping Dabi’s ass cheek. The villain gasps when he feels the lube sloppily rubbing against him, cold and slick and uncomfortable considering he’s half-asleep. Still, he is absolutely craving Hawks to the point where it’s borderline painful. His cock throbs against Hawks’ abs as he feels the Pro lining up his own cock with his entrance, beads of precum dripping from both of them.

“Ohhh… fuck ,” Dabi moans, cheeks flushing red as he feels Hawks stretching him open. Hawks pants as he pushes in, eyes only half-open, tongue lolling as they quickly dissolve into a tangle of tongues and limbs. Hawks licks at the scars on Dabi’s neck, and Dabi’s hands find their way into the Pro’s blonde hair, holding the back of his head. Slowly, the hero rolls his hips, and wanton groans are practically punched out of Dabi as his eyelids flutter shut, completely giving in to his lover. Their breaths hang warm and hushed in the air as they cling to each other, partially for warmth and partially for passion.

“Feels good ,” Hawks trills, pumping his hips as the slow, soft sounds of skin slapping skin echo through the bedroom. Dabi blinks, his hand coming up to cup Hawks’ chin and forcing their eyes to lock before he smashes his lips against the hero’s. Their tongues dance, Hawks’ delicately tracing over the stitching in Dabi’s.

“I want you closer ,” Hawks rasps in a husky whisper, his speech slurring as his wing wraps around Dabi, feathers pressing into his back, and the villain practically sobs when his erection presses harder against his lover. A yawn turns into yet another voice-cracking moan from Dabi as Hawks ruts up into his guts, the tempo deep and deliberate and dazed. The rhythm is uncoordinated and desperate, after all, they’re both still half-asleep, but they’re overcome with an insatiable need for one another’s touch in the most primal way possible.

“Mmmngh… Hawks …mmmngh,” Dabi whimpers between deep kisses as they frantically connect each other’s lips, mouthing at one another like starving animals. Dabi’s brain is numb from giving up control, focusing solely on Hawks’ touch. Part of him wonders if maybe this is just a sex dream that he’s having…until Hawks changes the angle…and he’s suddenly very aware that this is anything but a dream. It’s an overwhelming reality that sends stars across his vision and sparks beneath his skin; it makes his heart pound against his ribs and his lips move to only form his lover’s name over and over again until he’s drooling. Hawks digs his fingernails into Dabi’s thighs, blinking hard as if he’s trying to fully wake up; he groans when he hits Dabi’s prostate, feeling the villain's whole body twitch beneath him. He grinds slow and steady, completely lost in the pleasure and…what was that other emotion? Love or delusion…he can’t decide which. The wind blows through the open window, and Dabi shudders, suddenly very cold despite his fiery Quirk. Hawks notices the shift and makes a begrudging effort to change positions, keeping his cock inside Dabi as he lifts him up and pulls him into his lap, wings wrapping around his scarred back for support. They’re encased in a crimson cocoon, safe and warm and filled with the heat of ecstasy. Hawks’ hands firmly grip Dabi’s hips, and he bounces him up and down forcibly, making the villain’s eyes roll back into his head as he covers his mouth with shaking hands, trying to quiet his slutty moans. Still, the muffled noises kiss Hawks’ ears, making the Pro swallow a grin as he falls into a rhythm that has Dabi utterly addicted.

“Fffffffuck meeee ~Ha- Hawks ~!” Dabi slurs, dragging his hands down his face before grasping at Hawks’ chest, trying to ground himself. The gesture has Hawks in a puddle of devotion as his heart drops, and his movements get sloppy. He keeps his eyes locked on Dabi, watching the crimson tears streak down his cheeks and the sweat bead on his brow. Whispered curses pour from the hero’s mouth with every thrust as they both coax closer to climax.

“So pretty. So pretty, darling,” Hawks groans, calloused hands gently tracing up Dabi’s sides. “So good for me, Dabi,” He gasps, muscles tensing as he feels the high climbing. Suddenly, Dabi crumbles to pieces, back arching and fingernails digging into Hawks’ pecs as he comes without warning, painting his lover’s tanned chest white. When Dabi clenches around Hawks, something snaps.

His wings flare back, and Dabi falls, head hitting the pillow as Hawks suddenly launches into a mating press, wildly fucking into Dabi who can’t help but scream for the hero. Hawks laps at Dabi’s tears, tongue dragging across his face as his voice pitches into a cry; he empties into his lover, hips stuttering and feathers stiffening before he pulls out and collapses on top of him. They’re both panting, struggling to catch their breath from the sudden sexual frenzy, and, slowly, the rising and falling of Dabi’s chest evens out. Hawks looks up to see the villain’s eyes closed, mouth hanging open in a gasp as his body completely relaxes.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Hawks clicks his tongue, huffing as he lightly taps on Dabi’s cheek. “No going back to sleep. I have a patrol shift at eight. Get your ass up.”

Dabi growls in annoyance, gritting his teeth and loathing the fact that the hero can’t make up some lame excuse to miss work today. He’d love nothing more than to just rest and relax in those strong crimson wings as his brain floats away into nothingness.

“Just…hold me…for a little while,” Dabi mumbles sleepily, wrapping his arms around Hawks and pulling him flush against his chest, the both of them sticky and sweaty and only slightly more awake than when they started. Hawks rolls his eyes but nuzzles into the crook of Dabi’s neck, feathers brushing against the villain’s face. His alarm hasn’t gone off yet…he can wait a few more minutes before showering. Hawks takes a deep breath, relishing in the afterglow as he regains control of his senses. For a few moments, he was Keigo again. Walls down. Instincts rampant. Lost in his own urges. At the same time, Dabi feels like Touya for the first time in years, letting his overwhelming emotions completely consume him. He had to bite his own tongue to not call Hawks by his real name in his delirious state during their session. Dabi sighs, muscles sore and mind scrambled as his hands snake up between Hawks’ wings, tracing soft circles on his back.

Hawks rubs his eyes, determined to not fall asleep in the scarred man’s embrace…but…it’s so comforting. The way Dabi treats him with such reverent grace is unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

“Stay…don’t…go…,” Dabi yawns between deep inhales, wishing he could sleep in Keigo’s bed all day. The gears in Hawks’ brain start turning…maybe he could ask for the day off and pass it off as getting more intel. After all, it would mean spending all day in his penthouse with Dabi.

“Mmm…I’ll call out if you get the fuck up and shower with me,” Hawks mutters, words muffling into Dabi’s neck. The villain cracks open an eye, mulling over the idea in his head.

“Can we have shower sex?” Dabi whispers earnestly, his voice hoarse and wanting. Hawks’ ears perk up at the request, and a smug smirk curls at his lips.

“Of course we can have shower sex.”

#my hero academia fanfiction #dabi #ao3 #fanfic #dabi x hawks #toukei #dabihawks #keigo takami #hotwings #ao3 writer #dabi mha #dabi smut #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #heavy smut #touya todoroki smut #touya todoroki #dabihawks smut

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rustboxstarr · 1 year ago

Text

♥︎ This is 46 ♥︎

Being married and having kids isn't always as amazing as it sounds, making time for each together can prove to be quite fucking difficult but finally you get a chance.

Pairings: Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom! plus size reader

CW: Smut, P in V, Creampie, swearing, protected sex (contraseptives but not mentioned) be safe bro, smexy photos, illusions to masturbating at work, distance within relationship. R & Eddie have two daughters, mechanic! Eddie

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: Look who managed to get off their ass and write a fic (Only took fucking forever) hope ya'll like it. If you have any issues using my links the newer works will be under the tag #starrwrites and #starrthinks 🥰 would you like more adult, domestic, married and parents reader & Eddie? tell me :)

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

The morning sun mildly filtered through the curtains, shedding light in the room, it was harmonious, peaceful, calm.. until your husband's alarm rang out on the loudest volume signaling 7 am. You groaned as you awkwardly woke from your medicated sleep. Hair in a mess, residue of makeup from the day before and a drooping boob on full show from constantly turning in the middle of the night in your slip dress nightgown. You rubbed your eyes angrily and sloppily as you noticed the alarm was still ringing. Turning your head to the side you saw Eddie fast asleep, completely undisturbed. You lay a palm on his shoulder, nudging his body in an attempt to wake him. Unsuccessful. You nudged him harder this time. “Eddie” you spoke, trying to wake him.

Eddie stirred in his sleep as his eyes slowly opened. “Hmm?” he hummed in question, he let out a loud groan as he turned and switched his alarm off. He rolled back around to face you as you were adjusting your nightgown. Eddie grinned “Sexy” he commented with a pump of his eyebrows. “Shut up” you joked as you once again rolled your eyes and took a sip of water from the glass on your bedside table. “C’mere” Eddie held his hand out signaling for you to snuggle up to him. You lay back down, adjusting yourself on your side as Eddie wrapped his arms around you, snuggling his head into the crook of your neck. “Good morning” you greeted with a yawn, “Missed you last night” he hummed. “Yeah sorry, late night but atleast I get to go in at ten today” you said groggily.

“Oh so you have some time then?” he smirked into your cheek. “Yeah.. why?” you asked, slightly suggestive, knowing where he was heading. In response, Eddie forced his hips along the mattress pressing up against you to make you aware of his stiff morning wood. “Oh well good morning to you too” you giggled. “Corny, really corny Y/L/N” he chuckled. “Hey, it's Munson remember” you grinned.

“Well Mrs Munson, how would you feel about getting dicked down by Mr Munson before he heads off to work?” Eddie forced his hips against your ass again. “Corny, really corny Munson” you quoted back to him. A hand slunk back from its soft hold on Eddie's arm to pull at the hem of his boxers, signaling for him to take them off.

“Exited are we?” he joked. “Hey you're the one with the hard on” you smirked as you could feel your husband rustling around behind you and then his bare cock pressing hard against the cheeks of your ass. Eddie's hand traveled down from your hips to hover by your mound. “Ooh no undies I see, naughty girl” he growled in your ear, earning a giggle from you. “Gross, don’t call me that this isnt some trashy porno you hide in your browser history” his head popped up beside you, as you craned your neck you saw his confused expression, eyebrows pulled together. “How do you know about those?”

“Well first of all I’m not an idiot, second” you whispered in a raspy dramatic voice “I know everything”

His hand slank to your thigh, tapping it for you to spread your legs, he then found his cock, leading it to your cunt, now on display from your parted legs. He forced his cock past your folds and straight to the goal, having no problem thanks to the slick that had gathered during the night. Your mouth may be dry from the propavan but your cunt surely wasn't. He groaned in your ear as he felt a powerful relief. Once he bottomed out his hand circled round your thigh and found your clit. As you let out a gasp from the sensation your leg dropped back down to a more comfortable position.

“Fuck” Eddie breathed as he began slowly forcing his hips back and forth in a sensual pace. Matching his slow circles pressing into your clit. Your arm which previously waited patiently for Eddie wrapped around his neck and shoulders to slither into his bedhead of curls behind you. Eddie hummed at the sensation as he closed his eyes, focusing on forcing his hips back and forth. “God I missed this” you sighed as your own mess of hair rested against Eddie's forehead. “Me too” Eddie groaned as he quickened his pace. A slight moan escaped your lips as you arched your back, forcing your hips closer to his.

“MOM!” a shout from downstairs made you jump in surprise. Eddie groaned in frustration. “MOM! Roxy ate the last poptart!” you could tell Ophelia, your eldest, was getting frustrated with her younger sister Roxette, she had a habit of screeching when her emotions were in overdrive and you were not about to handle a panic attack over poptarts at 7 in the morning.

Eddie's hips stilled at the interruption, you groaned as you heard the 13 and 16 year old start to bicker in the kitchen. A shout of “MOM she's pulling my hair!!” from Ophelia had you groaning in annoyance and hurriedly get away from Eddie behind you. Stumbling as you got to the floor and pulled your nightgown up to hide your boobs. “I'm coming!” you shouted as you hurried out of the room to break up the fight.

Eddie groaned in his spot on the bed and rolled over on his back. He adjusted himself to sit back in his boxers as he threw his head back against the pillows with a “FUCK!”

It had been a while since the two of you had been intimate, with two teenage kids who had their own issues and two full time jobs, finding time for each other was difficult, you had to treasure every moment you could spare.

–

Your next opportunity to be close to Eddie came a few days later:

“Alright, better get up, I need a shower” you explained as you groggily lifted the bedsheets and padded across the floor to the bathroom. “Hey, maybe I can join you?” Eddie asked slightly hopeful, he had ten minutes before he had to rush and leave for work, you were dropping the kids off today but not for another 40 minutes.

“Ooh” you hummed as you turned the doorknob. “That sounds nice” you smiled as you walked through the door. Once you made it past the threshold Eddie hurled himself out of the bed, stumbling over his work clothes on the floor and almost falling over. Stumbling into the bathroom he groaned as he saw your naked form in the bathroom littered with plants.

“Fuck, you are so sexy” he hummed as he slid in behind you, pushing his hard cock against your ass, already awake with the excitement of a quickie in the shower. You hummed, pleased as you craned your neck to the side to let Eddie kiss at the soft skin.

“Ok, come on I only have-” He checked the time on his watch “- 9 minutes before I have to leave” you giggled as he slapped your ass, gesturing you into the shower. You hurried in kicking your nightie along with your panties out of the direct firing range of splashing water, stepping into the shower and being quick to skip backwards away from the cold rush of water. You felt Eddie’s warm hands wrap around your waist as he walked you to the water.

“Ok hurry big guy, you need to go soon” you reminded him. “Yes boss” he placed his hand on your shoulder, pushing on it slightly, guiding you to bend over and place your hands on the wall. “Get ready for the best fuck you’ve had in a while” Eddie joked, earning an eyeroll and a chuckle from you as you felt his tip push against your fold. “Fuuuuck” Eddie groaned as he slid in your wet cunt. A loud groan slipped from his lips as he bottomed out, “Eddie, shh the kids are downstairs”. He began thrusting slowly, hands gripping onto the fat of your hips as his head relaxed on his shoulders and rolled back. You hummed in pleasure at the slow pace as you loosened your body, letting go of a tense buildup in your muscles.

“Wish we could do this more often” Eddie groaned as he began thrusting faster. You closed your eyes in pleasure at the feeling of him finally being inside you, sweet relief. With each thrust Eddie picked up the pace, rushing to find mostly his own release but also yours before the clock rang time to go loser. In a deep focus he hunched back over your frame, watching as you bobbed back and forth against the wall with the force of his hips.

“Shit, 6 minutes” he complained as he began drilling faster. “Fuck fuck fuck I’m-” he began in a loud whisper, he jumped out of fright when he heard a knock at the door, he turned his head expectantly. “Dad! Your phones ringing!” Roxette shouted through the door. Eddie sighed annoyed as his head fell back on his shoulder, this time not out of pleasure.

“I’m coming!” he pulled out of you as you straightened up and turned to face him. “I’m so sorry” he whispered as his hands found their rightful place on your hips. “It's ok” you whispered as your ringed hand caressed the side of his face, stubble coming in despite his shaving two days prior. Just as he was about to kiss you “Dad!”

“I’m coming! I'm coming!” he shouted again, this time more annoyance laced his voice. A quick peck on the lips before he rushed out to wrap a towel around his waist. “Ah I’d love to hear that sentence under different circumstances” you teased as you returned back to your shower. Eddie grimaced annoyed and sheepish, because he too would like to be saying that sentence under different circumstances.

You didn't bother getting out to lock the door when Eddie left but you heard Roxy on the other side of the door “Did you just shower with mom?” you could hear the grossed out expression in her face as she spoke. “No, shut up” Eddie said at the confrontation, you grinned to yourself. “Heyyy Zander! What can I do for you?” His voice faded as he spoke to his coworker and hurriedly dressed himself with the phone on speaker.

–

Days passed and you had hardly seen Eddie, both on different work schedules and you on the line for a promotion had been staying late at the office. Yet somehow the two of you had managed to drop the kids off and pick them up from school and have at least one parent cook and eat dinner with them. By the time you came home at night everybody would be tucked into their beds, well almost everyone, 11 pm Roxy was asleep when you checked on her but Ophelia was still wide awake scrolling her phone in bed.

“Hi love” you smiled as you creeped into her room. Sleep Token playing on her google nest in a low volume while she read, she had told you she was reading independent amateur writing about fictional characters on some app you couldn't remember but you knew that scene slightly, pretty sure she wasn't reading wholesome stories about Hogwarts and Harry Potter.

“Hi” she answered back as she sat up, putting her phone down.

You talked to Ophi for a few minutes before heading to the bathroom with a “Goodnight, go to sleep soon” As you entered your bedroom you found that Eddie was in fact fast asleep, each time you came home the past week to find everyone asleep your heart broke a little at the fact that you couldn't be around them much, but soon that would be over and you would all be more comfortable with the flood of income. A promise of a trip somewhere had helped soothe Roxy when she wondered why you were never around much.

Quietly you got changed and headed for the bathroom and got ready for bed. You slipped under the covers and relaxed on your side, back facing Eddie ready to sleep the day away and then suddenly a glimmer of hope. Eddie stirred in his sleep and rolled over to face your body. He groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, but within a second he was fast asleep again.

–

By now enough was enough, you missed Eddie and he missed you. You couldn't be intimate other than kissing a little and hugging a little too long when no eyes were watching but you could at least have a little fun with him.

Princess Y/N 💕: Don't open the picture around people

It was 1.30 in the afternoon and you'd finally gotten a second of peace to yourself, so you decided to spend it in the bathroom.

Princess Y/N 💕: *Image*

A photo of you in your employee bathroom at work, multiple blouse buttons discarded as you stood against the mirror with your phone up, taking a picture of the reflection of you leaning forward, tits covered by a deep blood red bra, his favorite, prominent cleavage from your large figure which had blessed you with a large set of tits which Eddie adored. One hand cupping your breast, the other on your phone, half your face in the picture.

As you button up your blouse again your phone dinged;

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: Holy fucking shit

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: You have time for a quick call???? im in the bathroom at work

Princess Y/N 💕: Sorry baby, i have a meeting in 5 and i have to get ready

Princess Y/N 💕: But enjoy the photo, love you, see you tonight

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: 😭😭😭

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: Love you too, so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Princess Y/N 💕: I’ll be home at 7 btw (yay), Ophi’s out but Roxy's home, we’ll have a nice dinner

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: 🍕🍔➡️🍆💦💦💦

Princess Y/N 💕: Ur 46 u shouldnt be using those emojis

Stupid guy 🎶♥︎🎤: U sayin im old???????

Princess Y/N 💕: Yup, byeee

Finally the clock struck 7 pm and you were home free. Eddie was already stood in the kitchen cooking dinner. “Ooh smells nice” you hummed as you entered the kitchen “Yup, mushroom risotto” he grinned and you, leaning down for a kiss, just as your lips met you backed off “Babe, Roxy doesn't like mushrooms” you told him with a sigh.

“I know” he grinned again, a devious little display on his lips, only earning a frown from you “Is she not here?” you asked confused as you gave him a quick peck on the lips before bending down to slip your heels off “Nope, shipped her off to switzerland” you cocked your head with an unamused look on your face. Eddie chuckled “She is actually staying the night at Missys, told her she could since it's friday” he couldn't help the excitement on his face. “Wait so we're alone? Till the other one comes home?” your eyes went wide at the fact that you finally had the house all to yourselves, with both of you in it!

“Nope”

You frowned “Were alone aaaaaaall night. Little miss teenage rebel is staying with her boyfriend tonight” you backed off once again slightly “Ooh don't like that” you told him as you placed your hands behind your back stretching. “Yeah me neither, but I told her the rules, and even if she breaks them, which, she will, it won't be anything worse than what we did at her age. And if her staying the night at Matt’s is what gets her out of the house so we can have some time for ourselves is what it takes then so be it.”

“I love you” you smiled as you gave him a deep kiss “I'm just going to change into something more comfortable, I’ll be right back” you told him as you scurried off up the stairs.

First time finally getting to be with your husband undisturbed in two months, this was a big deal. You estimated Eddie would be done in about a half hour which gave you plenty of time. You hopped into the shower first, tying your hair up so it wasn't wet when you went back down for dinner you began. You showered your whole body and scrubbed it clean with various heavily scented soaps. It was too short notice to shave your mound and expect it not to be red and irritated but you could at least trim it, you felt awkward using your hair scissors down there but at least when Eddie was around to see you you wouldn't be sporting a hairy jungle. You shaved your legs, your arms and even the small hairs gathering on your big toe, that felt extremely weird but you were excited and wanted to look and feel your best when you finally had sex with Eddie. Once you got out you smothered your body in lotion, strawberry scented just to ensure that your legs and arms were as smooth as possible.

When you finally set foot at the top of the stairs you were clean, shaven, fresh wearing a matching black and dark purple set of sexy underwear from the really expensive part of Twilfit concealed under a pair of leggings and a baggy t-shirt. The second you stepped into the kitchen Eddie's arms were wrapped around you, a kiss landed on your forehead “mm you smell nice, did you shower?” “Yeah just quickly, wash the day off” you reasoned, getting a hum in response. “Well sit down, because you are getting the princess treatment tonight” he grinned as he guided you to the table. “I prefer queen thank you very much” you flicked your hair goofily earning a chuckle from Eddie. “Whatever you say baby”

Dinner was heavenly, Eddie had outdone himself, and had clearly cooked to impress. By the time the last spoonful was gone you felt happy and content, sipping the last of your red wine in the crystal glass, a wedding present, part of a set of six. Just as Eddie was about to rise from his comfortable position across from you you halted him “I’ll clean up” you smiled. All Eddie could do was watch as you began loading the bottom rack of the dishwasher, sinking back into the dining chair and spreading his legs while you bent down.

In Eddie's mind it was obvious you were finally going to have sex, just as soon as you loaded the dishwasher, it didn't cross his mind that foreplay was probably something that would be appreciated by you or any kind of affection beforehand so he just went for it. When you finished loading the dishwasher you straightened up to clean up the mess that was left from cooking, that's when Eddie decided to saunter over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nestling his cheek against your hair. “What do you say we move this to the bedroom?” you felt him force his hips against your ass, revealing his hard on that had worked up from watching you clean up. He grinned as you turned your head to peer up at him. “Oh I thought we could cuddle up and watch a movie on the couch, I'm kind of tired” you lied, nothing in your facial expression hinted towards you joking and Eddie's face fell. “Really?” he asked incredulously “What?” you turned in his arms to face him, his body cradling you against the kitchen counter. “We haven't had sex in like two months, we finally get the house to ourselves and you want to cuddle?” he raised his eyebrows, miffed but also slightly annoyed. “Is that all you think about? Sex?” you huffed at him, still playing your face neutral.

“Well no” he averted his gaze from you as he delivered those words, in reality all he had thought about since he realized both girls were out for the night was finally getting you to himself, in bed, with no interruptions. His eyes met yours again “But we haven't, you know been with each other for like ages, and you sent me that photo today!” he realized as an argument. “So? Sexy photos doesnt mean you can just fuck me whenever you want” you couldn’t help the slight tug of your lips, cursing yourself for it. Eddie noticed it right away, wheels spinning in is head till he came to the conclusion that you were fucking with him. “Oh really?” he grinned. “Nope, takes two to tango” you grinned at the lame wording. “Oh so I can't just bend you over right here and have my way with you?” his hands retracted from their laced position behind your back to slither to your hips and grab a firm handful of the fat covering them. “Nope” you repeated. “Wanna bet?” “I hardly think you have the balls to actually do that, seeing as you're an old man and were not 20 anymore” you smiled.

He smirked mischievously at you and was quick to indeed flip you around against the counter, force your hips against the edge and push your shoulders down to the cold marble. “I may be old as you call it” he slipped his hands under your shirt to find the hem of the black leggins and slip his fingers under the fabric, drawing his hands to your sides “But I would like to think I haven’t lost my spark yet” he ripped the fabric down your thighs harshly. Backing off slightly to allow him access to draw a finger against the purple fabric concealing your pussy. His touch was feather light as we guided his pointer finger along the slit of your chubby skin. You hummed at the feeling and retorted “I don't” adjusting yourself to support yourself on your forearms and arch your back slightly. At that he went through the same procedure with your underwear as he did your legging, he ripped them down to find your core.

Knowing what was to come you spread your legs as wide as the fabric gathered around your mid thigh would allow you, revealing your cunt to him finally. A low groan from the back of his throat echoed through the walls of the kitchen. He once again brought his pointer finger up to you to slip it in only one knuckle deep. “Talk a lot to be so wet” he pushed his finger in further “How do you know its not discharge?” you grinned “Discharge doesn't stain your underwear baby” another knuckle, his finger now fully drawn in by your wet walls. His harsh demeanor of wording dropped as he breathed a simply “I've missed this”

Your heart squeezed “Me too” you whispered. “Good” the harsh exterior was up again and on guard. You heard Eddie unbuckle his belt and zip the fly down. As much as you wanted to have slow passionate sex and reconnect to each other's touch starved bodies, doing it this way was best for the both of you. There was a requirement for an outlet, and if riling Eddie up was the way to it, you would happily oblige, loving sex would come later but for now rough and loaded sex was perfect.

His hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he took a step closer to you, your round figure covering what he desired he went in blind, eyes fixed on the slope of your hips he grasped onto your left and nudged himself blindly against you. He found what he was looking for quickly and pushed himself inside. His tip rested around hot flesh as his head lolled back on his shoulders, “Fuuuuck” he groaned as he forced his hips slowly to be flush against the fat of your ass, you let out a low deep moan at the action and expected him to start thrusting almost instantly, when he didn't you opened your mouth and was about to tell him move goddammit when he finally forced himself to retract his hips only to slam them back against you. He did it so quickly and with such force that you couldn't help the loud almost pornographic moan that ripped itself from your chest.

He let out a loud groan and within seconds was at a relatively fast pace drawing his hips from you and thrusting them back in. Both his hands grasped hard at your hips, pushing and pulling you against him, making you rock back and forth against the countertop. He held onto you so hard it was almost painful but you couldn't focus on that when the head of his cock began hitting you at the sweet spot that if he hit too hard or too long would eventually leave you crying and not from pleasure. It wasn't often Eddie could hit that spot, not when you were lying down, only with your back to him or sat on top of him and everytime it was a gamble, being on top of him would most definitely make it painful but when he was thrusting into you from behind you could properly feel that distinguished pleasure.

Loud moans and groans were heard from the picture perfect cute little kitchen in an equally cute and little house, a great contrast from what was actually going on. Eddie was cursing as he worked his body as hard as he could while you breathed and moaned strings of fucking christ, feels so good fuck, and yeah right there, fuck right there.

“Shit baby, I-I wont last long” Eddie heaved from behind you, willing himself to hold back but he couldnt when he hadnt touched you or fucked you like this for ages, it was all too much. “It's ok-” you broke off with a moan as Eddie hit one very harsh and angry thrust. With only Eddies cock you wouldn’t cum anyway, you needed some other form of stimulation or at least for a longer time in order to reach your high, and even then it was only a mild wave that you barely even noticed that came. Eddie knew this, and always made sure to make you cum in one way or another, on occasions he could hold out till that small wave hit but this time he was just sorry that he couldn't make it last even a little longer for it to actually be enjoyable for you.

As Eddie began thrusting faster, the previous pleasure of just being in the moment, having sex with Eddie turned to something else. You felt it, that tingle in your core, as if something other than your walls was squeezing at your pussy. You could only assume it was because of Eddie's rough pace and the fact that you hadn't had this pleasure in forever. “Shit” you breathed in suprise “Fuck, fuck, Eddie I’m gonna cum” you moaned . “Shit really?” he breathed “Yes, Yes! just- just keep going!” that second yes was nowhere near an answer to Eddie but a loud praise at the fact that you were about to cum and only within about a minute of Eddie slipping inside you. “Fuck, fuck ok” Eddie shut his eyes tightly, willing his body to hold out just a little while longer.

That tingle gained power within seconds, spreading from your core to your hips, stomach and thigh which were forcing themselves to close. “Fuck” you let out an extremely loud moan which would no doubt be heard my Ms.Driscol had she been out in her garden at that moment. “Fuck Eddie I’m coming. Ahh I’m coming!” you practically screamed. Another scream and that tingle exploded within you, shards flowing throughout your body as if to say I'm done now, you can relax. The effects of the explosion lasted for a few seconds before the message had been received and your limbs gave up on you. As you breathed heavily Eddie released a mix of happy excited laughs at his accomplishment and groans of pleasure. He let out a particularly loud one when you felt his hips force as close to you as space would allow and his back arch in a strain as heavy loads of cum spilled within your walls.

Finally you collapsed, had your upper body not been splayed on the counter you would have crumpled to the floor. Eddie breathed heavily as he bent over laying his head on your shoulder blade.

After what felt like a long time Eddie huffed a laugh “fuck, that was good”, you chuckled “you think so? I felt it was mediocre at best” “Oh shut up” his weak hand squeezed once again at your hip making you giggle again. “Now can we watch a movie and cuddle?” you smiled. “Sorry baby I wish but I have plans on counting orgasms tonight”

“That, was a horrible joke”

#80s #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson has adhd #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson headcons #Eddie Munson plus size reader #Eddie Munson x plus size reader #Eddie Munson x reader #modern Eddie #modern Eddie Munson #modern Eddie Munson headcons #modern Eddie headcons #headcanon #headcon #StarrWrites #StarrThinks

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crazylittlejester · 7 months ago

Note

You know what, you need some fluffy headcannons to sweeten up all these angsty ones

Time and Wind have developed Midna's sarcasm and teasing nature due to how often they all teamed up together. Twilight nearly went insane because for the longest time he assumed them both to have Twili heritage due to it (they also know how to speak their native tongue, mostly to insult people without anybody minus Warriors knowing)

Four and his dad like making each household items as gifts. His dad has a whole cutlery set made by Four that he uses and shows off.

Warriors and his fairy pals do spa days together and he makes them sweets.

Despite never learning how to read, Hyrule loves folktales.

The reason why Sky learned woodcarving was so that he could make a cradel and toys for when he and Sun have their child.

Wild sounds like Gordon Ramsey and no I shall not elaborate.

Legend cannot tell reality from dream anymore and sometimes he wonders if he is in some sort of purgatory.

Twilight has been forced into a dress so that all the kids in Ordon could "save the princess". He had the sloppily done make up and crooked crown too.

When registering as a proper citizen of Hyrule, Time allowed Zelda and Malon to choose his middle name. This would lead to him having possibly the worst name known to the heavens. He regrets doing more than just Link Lonlon. (His full name is Link Bartholomew Andrew Lonlon the 3rd. Zelda added that bit at the end to mess with him.)

I love these soooooo much oh my god, but that last one and Warriors making little sweets for the fairies are my absolute favorites. AND TWILIGHT IN A DRESS, BECAUSE HE’D EAT THAT UP, LET’S ALL ADMIT

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #jes talks #jes ask #lu headcanons

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bowsellie · 1 year ago

Text

better than revenge - pt 2

fic warnings: cheating, angst, love triangle. abby x reader, reader x ellie, abby x ellie kind of. MDNI, smut

part 1 part 3

warnings: not proof read! ellie x reader, smut without feelings, kind of toxic!reader, manipulatey!reader, SMUT, MDNI. oral (r! receiving), face fucking (e! receiving), praise, pet names.

The rest of the night was spent internet sleuthing. Going through the girls Abby followed named Ellie--of which there were three--and finding the only one with a pride flag in her bio. Requesting to follow and scrolling through her posts to confirm that she was exactly Abby's type. Liking a few of her recent posts to show her you've been looking, then going through your mutual friends to figure out your common link.

After some time gathering information, you decided to send her a message.

hey, idk if you know me but we have a couple friends in common. I can't believe we've never met, you seem so cool!

Shortly, a response came.

oh, hey! yeah I've seen you around but never had the chance to introduce myself haha. well, I'm ellie (obviously).

You let yourself fall into the comfortable lull of flirting with Ellie. Complimenting her appearance, her vibe. Mentioning your queerness. Bringing up the potential to meet up in person. Everything that had worked on Abby seemed to be working on Ellie.

oh, are you still dating that abby girl?

Shit.

oh, her. idk honestly haha. we're on a break or something, but I don't think we'll get back together. I kind of have my eye on someone else.

who?

You looked at her message, considering for a moment before the three dots on Ellie's side popped up again.

do I know them at least? I won't say anything if I do--swear.

how about we go out to coffee and I can tell you then?

Nervousness and excitement danced in your gut as you watched for her response. When the little "yes" appeared, you smiled to yourself and began to make plans to see Ellie.

---💗💗💗---

"You're so pretty, baby."

Ellie's mouth was against your ear, breathing hot and humid as you whimpered. Her knee grinding against your cunt, pressing into the seam of your jeans and expertly growing a pressure there that you knew would pay off sweetly.

Her soft mouth moved to kiss your face all over. Cheeks, brows, lips, as she whispered praises in between. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen. So perfect. I bet you're so sweet." At this suggestion, your hips bucked upwards and elicited a louder groan out of your mouth. "You want me to taste you, sweet girl?"

You nodded quickly, somewhat dazed already. Sex with Abby hadn't felt this good since the very beginning of your relationship, when sparks were still flying and the fire in your bellies was bright. Before the domesticity, and the comfort, and...

You should probably stop thinking about your girlfriend while fucking another girl.

Tuning back in, you noticed that Ellie had pulled your jeans and panties down in one swipe and was resting her cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with hungry eyes. Making eye contact, she leaned forward slowly until her warm mouth attached itself to your cunt. You closed your eyes as you moaned, immediately overwhelmed by how warm and wet and good it felt to have Ellie's tongue playing through your folds. She teased at your clit before moving back down and giving long licks to your pussy, listening attentively to what made you pant and groan and squirm underneath her. She focused more and more attention on your pulsing clit, sucking it between her teeth harshly and applying pressure that made your back arch and thighs clasp around her head. Your hands took two chunks of her hair and began to pull her closer to you, pushing your hips against her mouth as she sucked and lick at your clit. Tensing up and practically shouting her name, you came messily over her mouth.

Ellie leaned away and looked up at you with a grin, wiping her mouth on her hand. "You are sweet." She leaned forward over your body to kiss you sloppily, the tangy taste of pussy on your tongue.

“Ellie,” you whined. “I wanna taste you.”

“Want me to fuck your face, pretty girl?” You nodded enthusiastically, reaching to pull her close to you. Ellie discarded her jeans, moving to position herself above your face. She held you by your hair and lowered her wet cunt over your mouth, holding you still as she ground over your extended tongue.

The girl above you was a grunter. Between praises of how good you were doing, she was breathing out carnal pants and groans that grew louder when she began to increase the pressure. Your jaw was sore, but you knew Ellie was close as your teeth bumped against her clit one, two, three times. As her rhythm stuttered and the grip on your hair loosened, Ellie’s thighs squeezed tight around your head as she came right on your tongue. Your tastes blended into something strong that stayed on your tongue as Ellie climbed off your face, kissing your hair and heading towards the bathroom to grab a washcloth and clean you off.

Wiping down your legs and chin, you sat up and began retrieving your discarded clothes. Ellie sat on the edge of the bed, shy in a contrast to her precious persona. “Have somewhere to be?” she asked. She placed her weight on one hand behind her in an attempt to look casual, but a crease sat between her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s late and I have to get home. This was great though. I want to see you again.” Your words came out rushed, and you glanced up at Ellie.

“Yeah, let’s do this again. Should I, I don’t know, walk you home or something?”

You shook your head, already halfway out the door. “No no no, don’t worry about that.”

Suddenly, your plan was getting risky. Yes, you wanted Abby to find out and be jealous. But how were you planning to tell her? How would she actually react? The foundation began to crumble and you bit the bottom of your lip raw on the way home.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #abby anderson #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut

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fanartfunart · 5 months ago

Text

The Light is Not What Hurts You

Chapter 1 Ao3 - Chapter 2

Summery:

Vio Link is a traitor. Shadow knows what to do with traitors. Traitors die. He shouldn't have won. Now there's Three Links, their Shadow, and Four Swords. Shadow has to find out how much his heart can take actually destroying the very people he is bound to. Not to mention- Can someone like him ever fill the role of a hero? Especially after destroying the one hero who might have been a friend? (aka a manga canon divergence au exploring if Shadow was able to kill Vio for trying to destroy the mirror, before the 3 heroes arrived to rescue him.)

Warnings: Graphic Depiction of Death, Shadow kills Vio, obviously, blood, injury, lots of violence, lots of angst. ~~

Shadow felt Vio's warmth slip away from his back. He groggily and slowly opened his eyes, shifting to look back at where Vio had been asleep, back to his. The space was empty and cold. He caught a glance of his silhouette slipping out the door silently.

Shadow Link tilted his head, and sighed, sitting up. He floated behind, leaning out the doorway to watch Vio turn down another corner… That wasn't the way to the bathroom or kitchens. Where was he going?

Shadow flitted from shadow to shadow to follow Vio’s quiet footsteps. Shadow watched curiously as Vio stepped up to the Dark Mirror. He materialized into the gentle morning sunlight behind him, softly landing against the floor.

Vio looked at it carefully for a moment. His reflection in the mirror held a dull, tired gaze. He took up a hammer out of his magical pouch. Slowly, he raised the hammer to the Dark Mirror.

His shadowed heart clenched in his chest, a dark buzzing energy squeezing his throat and pricking his eyes. “YOU TRAITOR!” Shadow screeched, rushing to stop the hammer. His sword materialized in his hand without a single thought.

Violet Link's eyes widened, dropping the hammer like it had stung him. “Shadow!” he gasped. “I- you don't understand-”

“He aimed to kill you,” a dark whisper echoed from the mirror into Shadow's mind. “Execute the traitor.”

“I think it's pretty clear!” Shadow screamed and rushed him. Vio scrambled to grab his sword. Too slow. Shadow managed a slice into his arm. He growled and struck again. Dark metal hit light with a loud clang.

Vio braced against the impact with trembling arms. He shifted to turn away from the mirror, taking a step back toward the wall. “Shadow please, I heard they were moving the mirror, there wasn't any more time, I-” he pleaded.

“Kill the traitor.” The voice demanded- insisted again.

Shadow snarled, raising his sword against the Hero. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I hate you! You liar!” He crashed down with each exclamation. Vio blocked the first one, two… Three, dark red stained the violet tunic, pooling on his side. Four, a line dribbled down Vio's eyebrow and over his sharp blue eye. Vio backed himself into a corner, defending another blow sloppily, eyes wide and panicked.

Vio ducked and struck at Shadow's knee, rolling away from him toward the center of the room. The cut across his knee knit itself back together. It still stung. Shadow hadn’t told them that when they realized their singular swords alone couldn't destroy him. It still hurt. Shadow lunged at him, sword poised to slash across his chest. Vio spun to avoid it, and stabbed into Shadow's shoulder. Shadow hissed loudly. It only fueled his burning rage.

He threw him down to the ground with another furious slice. The back of Vio’s head collided with the ground with a loud thud. He let out a winded grunt, grimacing. Shadow followed him to the ground. Knees digging into Vio's stomach, trapping him against the unforgiving stone.

His dark mirror of the Four Sword left a sharp shadow across Vio's face as he raised it. Vio flinched, waiting for a final blow. Shadow panted his breaths. Rage and fear made him tremble. Vio’s gaze grew firm, curious and thoughtful. Analyzing the hesitancy to strike. Shadow felt thoroughly disarmed at the focused look. How? How did he do this to him?

“Finish it.”

“You don't have to listen to him…” Vio whispered. An inky droplet splashed on Vio's cheek. He smiled sadly.

Shadow closed his leaking eyes. “I can't-” he whispered. Unsure exactly which voice he was responding to.

Vio's hand was gentle on his chest, “You're the Hero, right?”

Shadow felt something sharp clench around his heart. Tight. Like a threat to break it. The voice growled, leaving no room for argument, “Now.”

Vio gasped, eyes widening in shock. The dark blade sunk into his chest. Vio's hand seemed to fall in slow motion. A series of short choked breaths. Shadow felt something horrid swirl in his throat and twitch at his lips. His grip on the blade tightened. A final breath escaped Vio’s pale lips at a rasp.

Shadow froze, staring down at him. The traitor hero's body fell unnaturally lax. Shadow could feel no pulse. The air settled strangely without another breath. Silent.

Another dark teardrop fell onto Vio's still cheek. A wail echoed through the halls. The shadows of the room shivered and shook, harsh against the thin golden light pouring in from outside. Shadow heaved for breath. He curled toward the still warm body. Screaming and sobbing.

Light stung at his skin. Shadow scrambled backward, eyes wide as the Violet hero became illuminated with light. He shielded his eyes when it grew too bright to handle, tears clouding his vision. When the light faded, all that remained was the Violet Four Sword clattering on the stone. A pool of blood stained on the cold empty ground.

The Four Sword’s glow dimmed. He felt like something within him vanished with Vio. He wasn't sure what. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely. He fell to his knees again, glancing at his shadowed sword. Red stained the dark blade. Shadow dropped it and it vanished into the shadows.

“Congratulations,” the gravelly voice cackled from somewhere beyond him, “I knew you would be victorious.”

At least Ganon seemed finally satisfied with him. Finally. Shadow closed his eyes and stifled the grief filled whimper that nearly escaped his lips. His voice wavered regardless when he responded, “He was my friend.” Shadow had killed him. He'd killed his friend- His only real friend- He’d finally had a friend-

“He betrayed you,” Ganon growled, “He was to kill you. This is what we do with traitors,” Traitors such as Shadow when he discussed the possibility of releasing Zelda to defeat Ganon and Vaati with Vio. Shadow's breath hitched. The voice softened, barely, “You have done well.”

Normally, he would jump at indulging such praise. Dig for more. Especially from Ganon. But it felt wrong. It was all wrong. Shadow stared at the Four Sword. Could Link even return to himself now? What would actually happen to a Shadow of Nobody?

“Thank you, Master.” Shadow whispered instead.

“Now go. Destroy those swords.” Ganon demanded. His presence vanished from Shadow's mind. Shadow sagged toward the ground, scrubbing uselessly at inky tears. He squeezed his eyes shut tight.

For a moment, he imagined a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a quiet voice offering comforting sounds. That side of Vio was never real, though. Was it? Vio was a traitor. Deceiver. Though. Shadow was now a killer. His mind swirled with that thought. It did not feel satisfying, or fun, or even simply successful. It felt like a loss.

Shadow grabbed the Four Sword off the floor. It felt warm in his hands, more inviting and accepting than he assumed a blade of Light would be to a creature of darkness. He lifted the pommel to his gaze. Violet swirled in the gemstone. Shadow closed his eyes.

Destroy the blade. Shadow took in a shaky breath. Destroy the blade. He wrapped the Violet blade carefully in his darkness, and sheathed it among his things. Destroy the blade…

Green, Blue, and Red felt it before they saw it. A sharp stabbing pain in their chests. A wash of panic that wasn't theirs, then nothing. Red turned sharply from their march toward Death Mountain and looked back at Blue and Green, eyes wide and frightened. “What was that?”

Before either could respond, their swords hummed and glowed in tandem, bright enough to make them shield their eyes. As the glow vanished, the three of them stared at each other, silence threatening to overwhelm them.

“Vio's in danger,” Green determined. “We have to hurry.” He pushed ahead of Red and broke into a run.

“Green!” Red called, rushing to chase after him.

Blue lingered a moment, stuck where he was, eyes flickering to his sword. That didn't feel like a warning. It felt- He scrunched his face up tight, shaking his head, “Please be wrong, please be wrong-” he whispered to himself, rushing to catch up.

The trio rushed to the center of Death Mountain, bubbling lava searing their skin with heat. Every shadow was cast in a red haze. The air was suffocating with ash and heat.

A familiar silhouette held two swords. Standing alone on a stone platform. One blade glinted in the fire light, the red stone warm against the dark hand that held it. The other blade was cast in shadow in his left hand.

“Shadow Link!” Green accused. “Where is Vio!?”

The figure flinched, clutching the swords. He looked down, staring at the magma. He raised the shadowed sword, and it brightened in the light, pommel golden like the other. A violet stone in its center.

“Gone.” Shadow whispered, twisting the violet sword in his hand, hovering it over the magma.

“Gone where?!” Red asked, looking around frantically.

“What-” Green looked down at the lava. “No-”

“I didn't have a choice,” Shadow said, finally looking at them. Black streaks fell from his reddened eyes across his cheeks. He released his grip and dropped the violet sword in the magma.

“NO!” Green shouted, nearly looking ready to leap onto the lava after it. Red grabbed the back of his tunic with wide eyes.

The golden blade turned black as it melted, the earth reclaiming it once more.

“You bastard!” Blue shouted and rushed to leap at Shadow, sword raised. He slashed hard across his arm. Shadow couldn't help a pained cry, dropping the other sword onto the stone. Stumbling back. The Red Four Sword glinted against the light of the lava. Shadow's eyes flickered to his arm, darkness stitching it back together, then to Blue. Blue’s eyes were sharp and enraged.

Shadow shifted to a fighting stance, hand posed to reach at the sword on his belt. “Don’t make me do it again,” he whispered like a plea.

“I'll kill you!” Blue exclaimed, kicking Shadow toward the lava. He flailed and froze his fall back, eyes wide. He hovered over the magma, taking sharp breaths as he clung to the sword handle on his belt. Tight.

“That was… so stupid!” Shadow screeched, floating up out of their reach. He laughed a cackle, near manic energy overflowing. “Can ya'll imagine if I just grabbed you and just dragged you down with me?” He raised a hand to his hair, pulling at it, “I can't believe ya’ll’ve survived this long honestly! Was Vio's existence in this plane the only thing keeping ya'll sane?”

An arrow sailed through his chest. Shadow turned his head to Green, his eyes focused as he grabbed another to knock on his bow. Red rushed behind Blue to grab his sword. Sword secure, he raised the ice rod at him. His hand trembled, but his eyes were cold and sure.

Shadow's manic grin dropped immediately. All their eyes were the same. The constriction in his heart squeezed again. Vio stared at him from the place behind his eyelids. His sharp blue eyes focused on him like a puzzle. The blood dripped across his brow and down to his eye slowly, clumping in his eyelashes. All four copies of their eyes were the same.

Blue was shouting at him. A sound that seemed like distant buzz more than a voice. A challenge, a demand. Shadow couldn’t quite catch the words, all of them dissolving like streams of water through his fingers.

He ducked away into the Dark World. Darkness enveloped him like a soft embrace. The trio shouted as he vanished. All he could see was three silhouettes that looked just like him. One of them fell to their knees against the stone. He almost wanted to follow the action, it felt like the right pose to be in. Instead, Shadow took a step back. His heart pounded against his chest. He turned and raced away, fleeing through the dark realm. He refused to look back.

#I have a few chapters pre-written #so hopefully I can keep up with this one lololol #shadow link #vio link #green link #red link #blue link #four swords manga #four swords adventures #death #major character death #angst #heavy angst #fanart's fanfic #legend of zelda #loz

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