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luveline · 1 year

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𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Your best friend Eddie tries to explain what a hickey feels like and finds he doesn't have the words. He could show you, though, if you want? [3k]

fem!reader, shy!reader, implied inexpereinced!reader, friends-to-lovers, pining, mdni heavy petting, hickeys, lots of hickeys, marking up, neck kissing, shoulder kissing, heat of the moment confessions, eddie being flirty but also a good friend, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie strokes down the length of his guitar neck almost tenderly. You're focused on his hands rather than his mouth as he recounts last night's date to you, distracted by the deft movement of his fingers, which aren't exactly small. It's an oxymoron —paradoxical, even— that his thick fingers would move with such gentle precision.

You shift around where you're sitting on his bedroom floor, criss-cross applesauce with an uncomfortable heat rising from the bottomless pit of your stomach to your tight collar. The white button up you'd worn under your sweater vest is a size too small. You're really starting to notice.

You peel out of the vest and hope it'll help you calm down.

"She wasn't exactly sweet," Eddie says, plucking a string, listening to the sound, and tuning it this way or that depending on how he liked it. "I think she wanted to get it over with, which isn't really my thing. She was in my lap before I could make it clear I wasn't interested in anything quick."

You lift your gaze from his hands. He must feel you watching his face. He looks up in tandem and smiles reassuringly. "It's fine. I kind of thought she was getting into it, she was like a vampire on me at one point, but I wasn't feeling it and it's clear she wasn't either. Drove her home. How was your night, d'you watch that tape?"

You trace the coil of a black curl down to his shoulder, and can't force yourself to meet his eyes as you ask, "A vampire?"

"What?"

"She was like a vampire at one point, you said." Eddie's arm goes still. "What did you mean by that?" you ask.

He puts his guitar down on the floor. You worry you've said something truly dull for him to place his sweetheart in such a rush, but Eddie's like that. He can tell you're embarrassed no doubt, and he's giving you the answer to your question as swiftly as he can to soothe the wound.

"Here, look," he says. He pushes his hair away from his neck on one side and tilts his head, bearing a wine-stained curve of skin to you unabashedly. "She kissed me. She gave me a hickey, used a lot of teeth. That's why it's bruised so much on the edges."

Warmth you've never felt rushes in, like your blood has superheated, and it's written on your face. Eddie's room feels suddenly a thousand times smaller than before and more intimate, his poster wallpaper curving in, the space between you inching closer.

"Sorry," he says, "I know it's kind of weird to show you."

"No, I'm sorry," you say, mortified. "I shouldn't have asked you."

"Yeah, you should. You didn't get it and now you do. I don't mind telling you."

Eddie lets his hair fall back against his neck, a kinky curtain that looks ridiculously soft in the orangey light of his lamp. There's a butter smoothness to it, and the way he moves as he does is worse, his hand open and reaching for you. He doesn't hold your hand, doesn't even try, just lets his upturned palm hang off the edge of his knee as if to say, Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. It's cool.

"Why would she do that?" you ask, gesturing to your neck.

"It's not her fault, I was flirting with her a ton trying to make it work."

"Not like that."

Eddie's hand turns toward his knee. "Like what?"

Your hand drifts to your own neck absentmindedly. You get kissing, wanting to be kissed and wanting to give them. You understand why she kissed his neck; if you'd been in her position, alone in the car with Eddie laying his charm on thick, you might climb the console and push aside his hair too.

"I know why she kissed you. I don't see why she…" You rub your lips together, your embarrassment turning sharp. You hate how humiliating this feels. "I know what a hickey is, Eds, but why would you want one?"

His turn to fluster. The tiniest tinge of pink paints his cheeks. "Are you asking me why I enjoyed it?"

"Did you?"

You despise yourself, truly. Worse when Eddie laughs, his chest forward, hair falling in his face as he chuckles sincerely.

"Yeah," he says, smiling at you "I liked it. Before she started trying to kill me I was having a good time."

He doesn't put you through the agony of asking what you both know he wants to.

You've never had one?

"It feels warm, and it's– you know how being kissed gives you butterflies, right? It's better than that. It's hot, and all her weight is on you and you have your hand on her back trying to pull her in, and she's as close as she can be without, you know." Something flickers across Eddie's face. Not longing, but a remembered pleasure. It makes you squirm.

"I don't see how it doesn't just hurt."

The hand that hadn't been reaching for you holds a pick. He flashes it between his fingers, a party trick, a nervous tic, his eyelashes tangling together as his eyelids inch closed. He scrunches his face up for a second.

"Don't hate me if I ask you something weird," Eddie says, eyes shut tight.

You don't think you could. You watch Eddie's face, knowing he can't see your analysis, and feel a shock of pins and needles in your hands when his eyes open and immediately lock on to yours.

"Do you want me to give you one?" he asks.

Your lips feel like they've been glued shut. You're aware of your breathing, how shallow each inhale has become, but you can't do anything about it.

He has the decency to acknowledge what position his question puts you in, "I know it might be weird but I can't describe it to you if you don't know what it feels like."

You surprise him. You surprise yourself. "Uh, yeah. Okay."

"Yeah?"

"It doesn't hurt?"

"Not unless you want it to." A hint of a smirk plays on his lips, though it fades quickly. "It doesn't hurt. That's not the point. But it can feel… foreign."

You nod jerkily, wishing you knew what to do.

The atmosphere is thick enough to cut through. Neither of you like it. Eddie gives you another type of smile, a familiar one that says, I'm your best friend, I always will be, so please chill out.

"You're gonna have to sit in my lap."

You actually laugh. "Eddie," you chastise, thinking it's a bad joke.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's that or the bed." His teasing tone is light, but he still adds, "I mean, we can do it sitting next to each other but it's difficult. Whatever you want, though."

You climb up on your knees. You're shy, absolutely, you always will be and especially when Eddie's teasing, but he really is your best friend, and the bed isn't happening.

He doesn't scare you.

He grins and ushers you toward him. "Alright, come here." He tugs one of your thighs over his lap and your breath catches. He grabs the other and any laughter between you abruptly dies.

You settle over his lap with an expression not far from pained. Eddie's hands rest against your thigh and your hip. He has to look up at you now, and he does as he encourages your weight firmly downward. You're more than conscious of where you're positioned.

"Do me a favour?" he asks.

"Yeah." You put your hand on his chest tentatively.

"Don't suffer through it if you hate it, okay? All you have to do is say something and I'll stop, but if you feel like you can't, a good right hook would work too."

"I'm not gonna hurt you," you protest.

"Me neither," he says. His hand lifts from your thigh to your neck, and he brushes his fingertips down the curve of it ineffectually. It would feel good if you weren't choking on air. "Relax, sweetheart. Please."

"I'm really warm."

"Your shirt's too tight anyway," he says, hand at your collar. He thumbs open your top button, a second, and exposes the flat of your chest. His fingers slide across your neck as he folds back your starched collar. They're cool compared to the raging heat he finds there.

You take a deep breath.

"You could put your hands in my hair," he says. Wishful thinking has hope colouring his tone.

You put your hands on his shoulders. The very tips of your fingers partition his curls.

He raises an arm above your mess of limbs to weave a hand behind your ear. It's then that you feel his callouses, so rough against the delicate skin of your scalp. Despite their texture, you find it feels good. He tucks his hand in tight, and slowly, slowly turns your head to the side.

"Look up," he murmurs.

You lift your head and stare at the ceiling with widened eyes.

He can't know but he does, and he says, "Close your eyes." The heat of his breath kisses your neck.

You shiver at the suggestion of his lips, and again when they press to your skin. Close-lipped, Eddie kisses the skin just under your ear where on the opposite side of your head his thumb strokes quarter circles. You're quickly overwhelmed by the duelling sensations. You don't notice his lips have parted until he's kissing a sloven path downward, his spit cooling in wake.

This isn't a hickey, this is straight up kissing, and you don't know what to do with how you feel. You hide your hands in his hair.

It tugs him forward. He reads your hands for enthusiasm, and if it is or isn't he pulls you closer still and opens his mouth against your skin. His teeth are impossible to ignore.

Your hand works further into his hair, getting caught in a tangle as he sucks your skin between his lips. His lazy mouthing turns insistent but still gentle, his teeth scratching ever so slightly at your pulse as it capers beneath his ministrations. You gasp at the warmth blossoming under your ribs. You cup the back of his neck a touch too tight.

He doesn't stop kissing you, only grabs your wrist to stop you from choking him out. You make a sound you've never made with him before, a mewl, all breathless and teary as the sensation worsens. Which is to say, betters.

He breaks a particularly rough kiss to suck in breath, his nose sliding up the curve of your neck as he leans back. "You okay?" he murmurs, half-lidded eyes locking onto your flushed face.

"Why does it feel like that?" you ask.

He drops his head, his nose level with your chin. "I don't know," he says, punctuating with a kiss right there, the closest bit of skin he can find. "Want me to do it again?"

You swallow and he must see it. He says nothing, wrapping his arms around your waist as he waits for you to respond. Your stomach pushes into his, your arms braced on his shoulder so you don't collapse into his front, limp with touch.

"Sweetheart, can I do it again?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, quiet but enthusiastic. "Please."

He's slower this time. Eddie leans into your neck and doesn't kiss you at first, his lips so close to your skin that you can feel their phantom. You skin tingles from his previous scandalising, and it doesn't beg, skin can't beg, but you can, you curl your arm behind his neck and hook his head there, crushing his hair to the crook of your arm. He doesn't take much convincing beyond that. His lips smush against your neck and you feel every millimetre as they part, heat and warmth and wet spreading like budding flowers come to bloom. You melt into him soon after, and Eddie takes your weight in stride, hand at the small of your back and pulling you in so hard you can feel his ribs.

When you think you're used to it —not used to it, but expecting what can be expected— Eddie nips you. Tiny dainty kisses broken up with a nibbling you'd couldn't describe as anything but playful. He laughs at your gasping and does it again, again, giddy hot laughter mixed with one of the strangest feelings you've ever been subjected to. You're molten. You're dizzy with it.

Eddie pulls back enough to ask, "I'm gonna undo another button, okay? Just one. Is that alright?"

"What for?"

"So I can kiss your shoulder. Just your shoulder." He sounds pleading, desperately excited in a way you've never heard him and you want to know what it'll feel like, so you let him.

This next button unveils the top of your bra and the soft hills of your breasts. He doesn't look, barely glances at his hand as he tugs your shirts down your arm, diving into the juncture of your neck like he needs it to breathe. His kisses are proper compared to some of the stuff he's been doing, but then he opens his mouth and the flat of his tongue wets your skin as he kisses kisses kisses down your shoulder. His hand is somewhere under your shirt, fingers slipped under your bra strap and pulling teasingly at the elastic as he eases you down in his arms. You're shorter than him where you'd started taller, totally compressed in his arms and at his mercy.

When he pulls back, the slimmest ribbon of spit shines between your shoulder and his lips. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his eyes glassy, and that hand cups your face. He pretty much grabs you, but there's not a lick of cruelty in his touch. Eddie's rough. Never cruel.

"You're on fire," he says. It's objective rather than joking. "You're so hot. Do you want to stop?"

"Not– not unless you want to," you say, trying to quieten your breathing. You sound like you've run a marathon. It feels like it.

"I'm gonna give you a real one, cool?"

"I didn't know they weren't real."

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, and his eyes are damning, a loving pity in the black of his blown pupils, "I was just warming you up."

Your mind blanks.

"Make sure I can hide it," you say.

You aren't thinking straight, concerned about hiding his hickeys but not what this means for the two of you. His unexpected hunger, and your willingness to let him eat you whole.

"I don't think you can hide it anymore," he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You look down at his lips. They're rosy, swollen from the pressure.

He sees you looking.

He yanks you in by the waist and sizes you up, almost, like he's calling your bluff, not spiteful but something mean about him as he stares at your mouth in return.

Like he doesn't want you to make the mistake. Like he knows you won't.

His hand tips your chin up high and he ducks his own down. An inch and you'd be kissing. That's all it would take.

"Is that really what you want?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. Is it what he wants?

It has to be.

"Have you wanted to, before?" He draws a line down your cheek with his marriage finger. Fast as a heavy tear. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Yeah," you whisper, trying to make sense of this, your sudden confession, a secret want pushed into the light.

Eddie turns his hand and strokes down your cheek with the back of it, pushing any dampened baby hairs away from your skin. His gaze softens.

"Was that so hard?" he asks.

"You knew?"

He kisses you. He's smiling, and he doesn't take just one. He must kiss you four or five times, your lips parted enough to know he could push it further if he wanted, but he doesn't. These kisses are unhurried, missing the ravenous passion of his hickeying but not the fondness.

"You don't know how hard it is," he says after he's broken away, his forehead tipped against yours, "how hard it is to have someone look at you like you look at me everyday, like I'm something you can't have."

"I didn't know–" you knew. You felt the same. His kissing is evidence alone. it's confessional.

"I know. Guess I thought nothing good would come of it, but– but I don't want good. I want you."

He pulls back quickly, like you've said something confessional rather than him. He surprised himself.

"I'm not good?" you ask.

"You're good. You'll ruin me, that's all."

You don't have time to ask him what he means by that. He kisses you again, kisses your cheek, draws a line of crescent moons down along your neck to the mess he's made of you. He kisses– he sucks your neck so hard, so sudden, that goosebumps erupt and you can't stop yourself from saying, "Ohh," as you cling to his shoulders.

This is the vampire thing he'd talked about, the points of his teeth stark against your skin even now. There's another layer of vulnerability unveiled here, knowing that he could really hurt you and knowing he never would. He kisses you until you're overwhelmed by him. Heat everywhere. Sweat shining on your skin. You don't want anything else but this.

You squeak as the pressure turns from pleasurable to too much. Eddie hears the pain in it and pulls away, instantly sorry and willing to prove it, his hands cradling your face.

You pant. He shushes you gently.

"Sorry, baby." He pets your cheeks.

Your head falls back, too heavy on your sore neck. You feel wiped.

Wiped, but good. Lax.

"That was nice," you say breathlessly.

Eddie sits up and drags you with him, hand behind your neck to prop you up. He's laughing again, his awful sweet laugh that you've heard a thousand times before. It never fails to make you smile.

"You're like a dead fish."

You cover an eye with your hand. "I take it the romance is over."

"You thought that was romantic? Babe, I'm only getting started."

Eddie gives you a quick peck. Where his hickey had felt like the heart of a star growing hotter with each passing second, his smaller kiss feels like the sun through blinds, a dappling of warmth.

"Are you messing with me?" you ask.

He pushes his arms over your shoulders for a hug.

"No. Not messing with you." His nose rubs against the shell of your ear. "It's about time we talked."

You let your hand drift down the dip of his back.

"Okay," you mumble. Talking. You need to talk about whatever it is that just happened.

"...Maybe I'll get you a glass of water first," he adds.

"That's a good idea."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please consider letting me know/reblogging, it means the world to me and makes a big difference!! ♡ NOTE: Eddie def pines back if that isn't fully clear, I tried to imply it with his date where he could've hooked up with someone but didn't go through with it, it was cos he's too in lurve

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #ish #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things

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repulsiveliquidation · 8 months

Text

don't let them hear.

Ona Batlle x Reader [SMUT!]

Warnings : daddy kink? I don’t know if people like that so this’ll be a little experiment lol. It’s got some demeaning words sprinkled in there, rough but loving sex (is that an oxymoron?), orgasm denial the works; we like being a little crazy around here.

word count : 3.8k of filth. you're welcome.

“That’s all for today girls! Good work! Let’s keep the energy up for the game this week, Sí?” Jonatan said loudly as the girls walked over to the drinks station. You grabbed Ona’s bottle and handed it to her before grabbing your own. You poured a little over your head and squirted the rest into your mouth, water cascading down your face to cool you down in the hot Barça sun.

You shook your head like a wet dog, water and sweat hitting Ona much to Ona’s annoyance, shouting Spanish curse words at you as you chuckled loudly with Kiera, walking back into the changing room.

“FUCK!”

It was suddenly cold, wet and unpleasant. Your jaw was wide open, you were soaked from head to toe. The whole team was laughing heartily as you wiped the water out of your eyes and looked up. There stood Ona and Pina, holding the huge cooler over your head with large grins on their faces. You chuckled darkly, Ona’s eyes realizing what your face meant; she’d seen that look one too many times and every single time ended badly for her. Pina was still grinning widely, not knowing the level of trouble she was in.

You grabbed Pina just as Ona ran away yelling, you held Pina in a head lock and yelled for Lucy to give you her bottle as you emptied it over Pina’s head. The whole team was now clutching their stomachs from the laughter; Mapi was rolling on the floor while Alexia was desperately trying to catch her breath.

You ran into of the changing room after Ona, Patri’s water bottle in your hand this time. She wasn’t there so you checked every room; she wasn’t in the physio room, the gym was empty, the meeting in the conference room was interrupted by a soaking wet player but still no Ona.

You walked back to the changing room feeling cold, you sat in your cubby and toed off your shoes. Most of the girls were still there, chatting and laughing; Graham asked you if you found Ona. You shook your head at her, laughing about how she’s dead when you got home though. You grabbed all your shower things, making a mental note to get Ona back when she eventually had to show up at the house. You smirked to yourself at what you could possibly do to her when she got home but your thoughts were rudely interrupted by a sweet singing voice you recognized coming loudly from the stall at the end. You grinned and made sure the coast was clear before stripping, pushing open the conveniently unlocked door and joining that familiar Spanish voice.

“Hola, mi niña.”

She screams, so far gone in her little concert that she didn’t hear you slip in with her. You grab her hands and look into her eyes, grinning before laughing at her trying to calm herself.

“I could have slipped, idiota!”

“I nearly got pneumonia from your little stunt earlier, we’re even.”

She scoffs, turning her back to you. You merely smile, wrapping your arms around her waist and stand under the warm water with her.

“Don’t be mad, baby.”

She doesn’t answer you.

“Darling.”

Nothing.

“Mi amor.”

She scoffs again. Spanish usually gets her to break. Stubborn girl.

“Literal love of my life.”

You know she smiles; you see her cheeks rise.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“You’re childish though.”

“You love me.”

“Damn right baby girl.”

She turns in your arms, kissing you passionately. She melts against your lips, kissing you harder and harder. You grab her leg and hike it up, pressing your thigh between her legs. You kiss down her neck as she grinds down earnestly, moaning like a whore at the stimulation she gets. Your hand comes up to her neck, squeezing gently. You look deeply into her eyes, she looks at you with fucked out eyes. This was too easy.

Ona was LOUD. She did not hold back at home. You’ve fucked her everywhere possible in the house; you name it, we’ve fucked on it. (a/n I outwardly cackled at this line the moment I typed it i’m a writer and a comedian; but maybe it’s the mental health issues. oh well.) she was loud enough that everyone still in the changing room would be able to hear your little voyeuristic escapade. They would NEVER let you live that down.

“Do you want everyone to hear you?”

“N-No…”

“You’re moaning like you do.”

She bites her lip, hands resting on your shoulders. Your hand leaves her neck and she stops grinding, leaning into your arms. You hold her, tenderly kissing her forehead.

“Think you can be quiet while I have my way with you, beautiful? I’ll reward you when we get home.”

She nods softly, bringing her arms around your neck to cradle your head. You kiss her hard again, pulling her closer by her small waist. She whines, hips going back to grinding down on your thigh. She’s slick despite the water, the glide over your thigh is smooth and stimulating. Her face was buried in your neck as she got off, your hands kneading her ass.

“Need more…” she whimpered out, head peeking out from its current home of your neck.

“Demanding and cheeky, we are on a roll aren’t we angel?”

She bites her lip and blushes hard, nodding like the cheeky girl she’s being.

“You’re one lucky girl, my mouth is watering at the thought of devouring you darling.”

The shower probably wasn’t the safest place to have sex but your girl was being so enticing, you couldn’t help it. It was your job to keep her satisfied, no?

“Remember, you keep your whore of a mouth shut. We don’t want Mapi hearing you moaning for her to tease you for the rest of your life, do you?”

“No, Daddy.”

Your eyes go darker at the sudden use of that name. It was reserved as a special word that she was allowed to use when she wanted you to specifically USE her. She rarely did this; you could count on one hand the number of times she spent the night calling you Daddy.

“Good girl.”

You kneeled before her, kissing up her leg slowly. She held your head softly and watched your every move. She was desperate now; legs shaking a little even from the little stimulation you were giving her.

You hiked her leg over your shoulder, leaning in and licking a suggestive stripe over her clit. She was, like you said before, soaked despite being in the shower. She moaned but slapped a hand to her mouth the moment she did. You grinned maniacally.

“This is going to be very amusing, baby girl.”

She smiled nervously as she looked down at you, her hands returned to holding your head as you dove into her folds once again. She bit her lip at an attempt to keep herself quiet till the shower room door opened. In walked a few girls, you could tell from the amount of giggling. Ona looked mortified; you looked utterly amused.

She shook her head and tried to pull you back up but you relented, burying your head between her legs and began to eat her out like you were starving. You slurped and suckled and swiped, fingers digging into the muscular meat of her thighs. Your devouring was drowned out by the noisy shower but her whines and shaky breaths made it over the sound of the water. She heaved over, fist in her mouth to try and keep her whining to a minimum but it only pushed your head deeper her legs which you took to be a sign to continue. Harder.

Your fingers joined the party, the girls who came in were now singing loudly together much to Ona’s relief. She was panting now, your fingers curling up into her spot aggressively as she legs were starting to become jelly.

You curled your fingers just right, hitting that special spot that always made her the loudest. She let out a choked back gargled noise, her eyes popping out of her head and looking down at you. She wanted to die the moment the singing on the other end stopped.

“Ona, you good?” asked Patri, who knew she was in here.

She looked like she had seen a ghost. Your hands grip her thighs and you stand, you pull her against your chest from behind as your fingers frantically pump in and out of her.

“Answer her,” you growled into her ear.

“Yes, just g-got soap in my m-mouth.” Soap? Interesting choice of words there, Ona.

“No one makes that sound when you taste soap, Oni.” Ooh, hello Pina.

“W-Well, I d-do…” A third digit joins the party between her legs.

“Okay, weirdo. Try not to eat your soap, bien? It’s not on the approved diet.” Ha! Good one, Patri.

Roaring laughter erupted in the bathroom. They went back to singing, your fingers slipped out as you turned her around and kneeled again. You kissed her navel softly, rubbing her tense legs.

“Good girl, Ona.”

She keened, hands tangled in your hair as you hiked her leg back over your shoulder and resumed your five-star meal.

She was dripping, your three thick fingers entering her with satisfying ease. You fingered her deeply, pressing up into her sweet spot as she tried to keep her noisiness to a minimum. As your lips suckled on her swollen bud, she had leaned down and begged you to let her cum in your ear.

“Please, amor. I can’t hold it.”

“Wait,” you told her simply, fingers pressing her sweet spot harder. Your thumb rested on her clit and rubbed random patterns, your free hand caressing up her wonderfully tanned legs. You stood, cupping her cheek and kissing her as your hand was unrelenting.

She whined and begged against your lips, tears of frustration cascading down her cheeks. It blended with the slowly cooling water; you couldn’t tell until the kiss was a little salty.

“Tears this quick doll? Such a desperate girl, you are.”

Your hand was slow now, she was on the edge and you were feeling merciful yet your hands were teasing. Her hands gripped your wrist holding her face, eyes glazed over prettily. She only nodded frantically, a beautifully whiny “Please Daddy…” leaving her lips as your hand sped up again.

“Cum.”

“FUCK!” she yelled, squirting all over your lower half. She couldn’t have cared less that the girls totally would be able to put two and two together; this was the best orgasm of her life and she was not going to let them ruin it. At least not right now. She’ll face the consequences later. The crippling shame would be worth it. Hopefully.

Your hand inside her did not stop until she was begging you to. You pull away and grab her face to kiss her. She kisses back hungrily, tongues fighting each other for dominance. You pull away panting, cheeky grins plastered on both your faces.

“That was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

“I love you. Dios mio, please do that again.”

“I certainly will, baby girl. When we get home, I am going to ruin you.”

She shudders, suddenly Mapi’s voice booms in the showers.

“You two are fucking in there aren’t you?”

“Fuck off, Mapi! I will tell Ingrid about that secret I’ve been hiding for you!”

“What is she talking about, elskling?”

“N-Nothing, mi vida. S-She’s talking out of her ass.”

The drive home was agonizingly long. Your hand gripped her thigh, thumb rubbing affectionately back and forth. She was picking at her cuticles, biting her lip softly.

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Babe, we’ve had sex a million times at this point.”

“It is not a million! Your calmness it unfathomable; I just moaned in front of our teammates! Loudly! They know what I sound like when I come, bebita!”

“I don’t see how that’s a problem. They should thank me for blessing them with that gorgeous sound.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Only for you, mi vida. Come on, we’re home. I’ve got some rewarding to do.”

Kit bags fall beside the coat stand near the front door. Your arms immediately pick Ona up, her arms go around your neck as you kiss her hard. You navigate through the house, dropping the little defender on the plush bedding. Her eyes are blown out, she’s panting and you’re pretty sure you’ve never been more in love with her. You give her a smile, one she returns. She’s beyond beautiful; she’s perfect in every way, shape or form.

“Undress for me, love.”

You switch places, sitting on the bed to watch her undress slowly. She really takes her time, pulling her shirt over her head, turning around to pull her shorts down her plump ass with feigned struggle. You remain stone faced, watching her completely unfazed. She furrows her eyebrows, pulling her long, brown hair into her signature messy bun (a/n which I have exhaustingly tried to do to no avail), nipples pebbled from the chilly room. She moves to climb into your lap, a little annoyed that you’re still dressed.

“What about you?” she asks, hands smoothing down your chest slowly. You merely smirk and hold her wrists, kissing her palms.

“I’m good, doll. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about me.”

“But I wanna see you.”

“You saw me plenty in the shower earlier, angel.”

She pouts, crossing her arms in defiance. Your hands grab her strong thighs and lift her, throwing her back onto the bed.

“Darling, don’t be mad. I’ll give you what you want in due time. For now, let me adore my pretty girl hm? You’re my obedient little pet, aren’t you?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“There she is. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me please?”

She does; her folds shine before you. You lean in and push her legs back, she watches closely when you lean in and lick up her folds. She sighs softly, your tongue gliding through her wet clit slowly. She tastes sweet and tangy at the same time, frankly it’s your favorite taste in the world. It’s just so Ona.

She begins to squirm when your tongue starts to swirl around fast, hips pushing themselves into your face. You let her, she’s indirectly in charge today and you wanted to keep your promise; whatever she wanted you were going to give and more.

“Close D-Daddy…close please!” she begs, hands flying to your head to pull you into her core. Your tongue pushes itself into her opened up pussy, licking up her juices that flow freely out of her. You make eye contact with her and nod, tongue working overtime to push her over the edge.

She cums with a loud scream of your name, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. You pull away, not wanting to push her too far too quickly. You smile and pet her stomach, her abs rippling as she reaches for your hand to hold. You sit up and pull her into your lap, grinning at her dopey smile. You kiss her, lips smacking noisily when your hand slaps her ass and she yelps into your mouth. You give her a few hard pats, her head burying itself into your neck. She takes it well, your calloused hands caressing her smooth skin.

“Good girl, you came so well for me. My perfect girl.”

“Thank you Daddy,” she replied, kissing your jaw softly.

“Can I have another, cariño? I know you will sound so pretty when you give me another orgasm.”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“Hands and knees please, hermosa.”

She fumbles but gets there, arching her back down just how she knows you like. You climb off the bed and pull out her favorite strap, putting it on while she watches from the corner of her eye. You stroke it theatrically, throwing your head back to tease her. She whines deep in her throat, lip bitten raw in an effort to be a good girl she knew she had to be.

“Give me one more orgasm and I’ll let you have my cock, okay baby girl?”

She nods, not trusting her mouth.

“I need words, princess.”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll give you one more orgasm.”

You pull her apart and admire her; she’s puffy and her behind winks at you. You suck on a finger and slide it over her, she jolts when your nail grazes over her wrinkled backdoor. You find the lube and squirt a little over her ass, massaging it in gently. Your nails drag themselves over her silky skin, goosebumps appearing all over her. The tip of your finger teases her asshole, dipping just a little into her. She gasps and looks back at you, eyes glazed with a look of pure lust.

“Wanna see how good this can feel, my love?”

“I trust you.”

You swear your heart nearly comes out of your chest, you lean forward and give her forehead a soft kiss before lubing up a finger and pressing into her asshole slowly. She’s tight and a little tense.

“Ease on up, baby. I’ve got you.”

She visibly relaxes, asshole now sucking in your long index finger. She sighs, feeling overwhelmed a little from just one digit. You drag it out slowly, pouring a little more lube to slick her up. She lets you in easier this time, you feel her begin to open up and take it better.

“Good girl, you’re such a good girl Ona.”

She keens at the praise, hands gripping the bedsheets tightly. One finger becomes two, soon she has three long digits pumping into her second hole. The pleasure is unlike the pleasure from her pussy, she’s addicted and wishes you had tried it sooner.

“Think we can do both, my girl?”

“Yes Daddy…!” she answered too enthusiastically, a kiss on her ass earns her two fingers in her soaked and leaking pussy. You alternate your hands for her to chase her high; one goes in, the other goes out. She’s trembling, choked out moans loudly leaving her pretty lips.

“Oh, someone is enjoying this a lot, huh? You like your ass played with, Ona? You like both your slutty holes filled darling?”

“Yes Daddy, YES!”

“You think we should have done this sooner, angel? You mad at Daddy for not fucking both your fucking holes at the same time before?”

“FUCK! Yes, puh-please!” three fingers in, three fingers out.

“Are you gonna cum, mi vida? Gonna show Daddy how much you love having your cunt and ass filled to the brim?”

She doesn’t manage to answer you, her orgasm sneaks up on her and pounces; she squirts like earlier all over you and her. She’s having a full body orgasm; her tiny frame convulses and writhes in pleasure. Your hands remain unrelenting, pushing her into the realm of oversensitivity and pure sexual bliss. It was beautiful to watch.

She finally calms, your hands pull away to hold her. She’s panting harder now, looking up at you with adoration but you can tell she’s thinking.

“What’s on your mind, doll?”

“No one has ever done that to me before.”

You panic a little. “Did you not like it? Was it too much?”

She scrambled, albeit wobbly, into your arms, cupping your cheeks and kissing you.

“I don’t think anyone has ever loved me enough to give me that before. It was amazing.”

You relax, hands holding her impossibly small waist. “Do you still want my cock?”

“I deserve it, no?”

“Cheeky girl. How do you want it?”

“On my back like a slut.”

“Watch that mouth or I’ll really make you taste soap.”

She blushes, laying back slowly with her toned legs open. She even pulls them back for you, holding them wide open with both her opened up holes clenching around nothing and winking at you. You’ll fuck her ass another day, wanting to properly explore that realm of her goddess-esque body.

The toy gathers her pooling slick at the tip as you home, a soft sigh leaving your lips as your hips easily thrust into her with no resistance. She throws her head back, legs dropping to rest on your muscular legs. You pull them over your shoulder and pull her body closer, thrusting deeper into her core. She shifts and whines, lips crying out your name for the world to hear.

You lean down and go to town on her, hips slamming down to pound her into the bed. The harness gives you just enough stimulation to spur you on along with her, the angle giving both of you the stimulation you need to finish.

She suddenly grabs your face and smashes her lips to yours, kissing you hard and desperately. She whimpers and keens, abs flexing as she waits on your approval to let go. She knows your close too, your breaths uneven as you shakily whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

“P-Please let me cum, amor…” she begs for the nth time tonight, face scrunched up with pure bliss.

“Almost there, pretty girl. Just a little more and we can come together. Don’t you want that, sweet girl? Don’t you wanna come with Daddy?”

“Wan’ that, really wan’ that!” she nods and whines, legs shaking violently.

“Come for me, doll. Come all over my cock now.”

“Y/N!” she screams, gushing for the third time tonight. That’s certainly a personal best for Ona Batlle.

You come with her as promised, your own orgasm ripping through you hard. It was beyond heavenly, both of you falling forward and trying to catch your breath. You pull out and take the harness off, pulling Ona into your arms. She melts into them, grinning softly when you give her a wet kiss on the cheek.

“You did so well for me baby, such a good girl for me. My beautiful girl. Did you like that?”

“It was beyond amazing, bebé. Thank you.”

“Come on, let’s take a proper shower now.”

Showered for real now and cuddled in bed, you tease Ona about her little slip earlier in the showers.

“You’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

“I think I traumatized the girls.”

“Mapi is going to have a field day when we go to training tomorrow. That’s if she’s alive that is.”

“What secret did you keep for her anyway?”

"She got another cat.”

“Oh, she’s dead."

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #fc barca femeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona femeni #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #espwnt #woso smut #ona batlle smut

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afreakingdork · 1 month

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Deep Dive: Rise of the TMNT Donatello's Bad Boy Persona, His Cute, But Mean Type, and Why He is None of These Things

I made this presentation to delve into my take on Rise Donnie!

It was a power point, but I'm going to break it down here. I do want to preserve the first slide though because...

Did you know Black dahlia's aren't actually black? They're very dark red and in flower language they represent dishonesty!

Apropos, let's get into it...

Donnie is a Bad Liar

We see this throughout the show

“No? No… Of course I did… n't.”

"Uh, nothing. Just having a typical normal mystic free day."

"We are just typical, normal humans who got lost in the middle of our normal, everyday human lives. Nailed it."

"Oh man. Uh. This hurts me. Uh. I'm very sad?"

He has all the characteristics of a terrible liar. He sweats, his pitch warbles, his eyes dart, ect, everything you would expect.

Sarcasm! The Perfect Cover?

When Donnie does go for the use of sarcasm, he almost always points it out.

"I feel better already," he said without a hint of sarcasm."

"Oh, sure. Let me just load my tap-into-every-security-camera-in-New-York app. I'm sorry if that sounded like sarcasm, it wasn't. I am in."

Point Out the Obvious Much

However, when he doesn't point out the sarcasm, he also can't help but make mention of the oxymoron. We see this a lot, especially in Donnie vs. Witch Town.

"Oh yes very cool says Donnie as he quietly lets something go."

"Ooh, fireworks. Science never would have thought of something it was originally inventor of."

So basically, if Donnie tries to lie; he gives himself away. If Donnie tries to fudge the truth; he's compelled to make note of it.

I bring this all up to specifically tackle this sentence:

“So unfair. Although it is a boost for my emotionally unavailable bad boy image. “Y’ello.””

Why do I do so? Let me remind you of my first slide...

But how can that be? We just established that he's a bad liar. In the 'bad boy' line, he's not falling for any of his tells. He's body language gives no indication of lying. He doesn't make any note of sarcasm. No one after this line makes a face or corrects Donnie and he doesn't point out any discrepancies.

How could this be a lie?

Because Donnie himself doesn't know it's a lie.

Let Me Take You Back

Things I Did Unironically as a Teenager

Added Japanese honorifics to the end of my friends nicknames (-san, -chan, -kun)

Had my friends help me wrap myself up in caution tape for my birthday, but told people they made me

Wore a dog collar with a dog tag that had my name in Romanji on it

Had screen names like RubyBlueSango62 and blahweeblah626

But That’s Just Personal Experience!

Things Donnie has Unironically as a Teenager

"Ah, yes, so in this case a game of bask-eh-ball."

"Prepare to eateth thy words."

"Oh, hey guys. What’s the haps? Huh? Oh, oh this? I didn’t realize I had it on. This is my sweet new purple satin jacket- Got it from being a bit of a tech wiz. Purple Dragons. Members only. No big deal. Mm-hm. Well, you better grab some toast, fellas, 'cause you are all jelly!"

“It's Bootyyyshakker9000. Capital B and three Ys in booty.”

I believe it's a universal experience for teenagers to push boundaries. For so long, most parents decide everything for you. With hormones and growth, you want to experiment, but since autonomy is new, you try to break from the mold and do it uniquely. Anything that is outside your norm, especially things that swing wildly from what you once new seems especially exciting. From embellishing speech, to wearing specific clothing items, and even your first screen name, you don't know boundaries! It may be 'cringe' in the future, but when you first do it, it seems like the coolest thing ever! It's something that wholly represents you. This online space you. This you that is ungoverned! I'm an only child so I can't imagine, but I bet you especially want to do this when you have siblings. Where the shame in that?

I mean... Kat Haynes agrees with me on this...

Low Empathy

Now to get a little more serious. Alexithymia is a term that describes those who have difficulty feeling emotions. While not always associated with autism, it is more common in individuals with it. About 1 in 5 people who have autism also have alexithymia.

As already stated, it is clear the Donnie suffers from alexithymia. Most Donatello-centric conflicts in Rise have nothing to do with Donnie being emotionless and instead often deal with him lashing out due to his confusion or insecurities. We see this a lot especially in Witch Town where he is grappling with himself the entire episode. He's insecure about how he doesn't understand mysticism and he doesn't know how to process it or his place on the team. He's not emotionless, he's insecure when he doesn't understand something.

"Yes, feelings. Hot, cold, sleepy, hungry…"

"I don't normally feel things, but that one got through!"

Emotions on his Metaphorical Sleeve

Nothing about alexithymia says that you don't feel emotions. Instead, it's characterized by not understanding them. Donnie feels his emotions big and large just like Mikey does and especially if something is important to him, you'll see those reactions dialed up to eleven.

All Talk

While many think of the classic "semi-lethal" line and the "Speak for yourself" when Mikey says they aren't savages in regard to Donnie, he's not really the bad boy he plays himself up to be. When the theatrics are set aside, most of Donnie’s snap judgements are the altruistic kind or he thoughtfully plans out ways to not only take care of his family, but actively ensure their safety (to varying degrees of success, but that's not what we're saying here):

created devices which both counteracted his brother's flaws because they were getting them hurt

Used himself as a shield for Mikey on multiple occasions

Risks his own safety and bodily harm especially in Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man and Breaking Purple

Builds Escape pods for everyone

Enters a sensory nightmare for the sake of the world

Often asks, especially Raph, if he's okay and looks out for the oldest brother

Yet the Presentation Continues?

Why yes, because there is another line of Donnie's that I want to tackle that I believe falls exactly in line with the 'bad boy image' one...

"Oh, you’re so cute, but so mean. Why do I always go for your type?"

You know what I'm about to posit again...

Insecure

As touched on previously, Donnie is insecure. He's insecure about his emotions. He's insecure about his place on the team. He's insecure about anything he doesn't understand and his insecurities are exceedingly personal in nature because he ties them intrinsically to his personality.

"The real thing is much more personal and thoughtful, and I really hope you like it, ‘cause if you don’t I will just be crushed!"

"This’ll teach you to compliment my work and give me my first positive reinforcement from a parent aged adult, ever!"

Speaking of parent aged adults... i wonder where this could stem from...

Role Model

Who do all the turtles model themselves after, but their own father? Whether they knew it or not, Lou Jitsu was someone they all strived to be like. They commited to learning all the lines from his movies. They fought like him outside of the training course Splinter sets them on. Heck, Donnie takes his hero worship so far that his character defining brows are exactly Lou Jitsu's! Babies start learning how to establish social and emotional relationships around 18 months. We have Splinter, a despondent, but loving care giver who unfortunately did not give Donnie the validation he craved. This manifests in his insecurities where he bends over backwards to get the attention he craves. He wants to be seen, again compounded by having three rowdy mutant-powered brothers, and so he ends up tying his worth into his ability.

Now, while for a majority of the series, the turtles don't know about Splinter's past or that he dated Big Mama, but it wasn't as if Splinter hid that part of himself away so obviously. In fact, because he himself is still mourning his lost humanity, he ends up feeding his son's a hardy diet of his life's existence. The boys are secondarily raised by Lou Jitsu movies in place where Splinter is not always present. Obviously, Lou Jitsu seemingly disappears, but Splinter's feelings on the matter don't. He openly still cares about Big Mama in the present and this I don't think it's a stretch to say that he would let these feelings leak in a similar way to how he presents Lou Jitsu in the boys lives. Big Mama is a attractive, albeit manipulative woman. This is awfully close to a little line someone says, especially when we consider that he models himself after this man.

Also, if we're taking models into account. Something we know for a fact shapes teenagers. Something we know for a fact that Donnie does. Something that is equally canonized in the show, then we have to talk about.

Donnie’s True Canonical Idol

That's right. You know her. You love her. You believe that Donnie is a thigh man because of this Lass' existence. Donnie says flat out that Atomic Lass is his childhood idol. He goes to great lengths to dance with her, smashing Leo out of the way. He then even goes so far as to ask if her and Atomic Lad have split up because his intention to date her is so clear. Now she was obviously a mutant in a costume, but that didn't matter because he loves Atomic Lass that much and Atomic Lass?

She's a heroine.

Only cute and mean in the context of the episode, this is not the Lass he fell in love with. The Lass he loves is a comic book hero that travels the universe doing good.

Also....

Ron Corcillo Agrees With Me

A staff writer on Rise, I apologize I can't show the origin tweet because it was deleted, but it was a dual question that asked both about the Turtles meeting Spider-man and about Donnie's preference. Now you could say he's forgotten a line that may not be as important to him, but doesn't that in and of itself say something? It says that it could have been a one-off joke or that it wasn't something that was necessarily intrinsic to the character.

To Recap:

Donnie doesn’t always know himself

Donnie is a cringey teen

Donnie is insecure

Donnie has difficulty understanding emotions and himself

Donnie isn’t actually an 'emotionally unavailable bad boy'

Donnie doesn’t actually like the ‘mean’ type

Sources:

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles episodes:

Mystic Mayhem

Donnie's Gifts

Pizza Pit

Hot Soup: The Game

Shadow of Evil

Donnie vs. Witch Town

The Mutant Menace

Breaking Purple

Turtle-dega Nights: The Ballad of Rat Man

End Game

Repo Mantis

Mascot Melee

Donnie's Gifts

Bug Busters

War and Pizza

Goyles, Goyles, Goyles

Lair Games

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie

lactoseintolerentswag's post on Rise Characterizations Pt. 3!!!

skulltrot's Donnie (Rise of the TMNT) | Autism Representation in Media video

Ron Corcillo's tweet from Cartoon Brew's Feb 10, 2024 AMA

Alexithymia | Autistica

earthytzipi's post not understanding why people characterize Donnie has hiding his emotions

hyperfixatinator's post about ROTTMNT Theory: Donatello's Hidden Role

#rottmnt #character analysis #deep dive #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello hamato #rise donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #cute but mean #emotionally unavailable bad boy #mic drop #donnie's wrong #me

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258punkweight · 7 months

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hey girl are you an oxymoron cause you're hot and cool

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youatemylollipop · 1 year

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What types of girls do u think the tokrev boys would like (separately), what type would u match the up with?

A/N: Not quite sure if I had understood your questions correctly, but here’s a list of TR boys and their dream girls based on my interpretation of your request.

Ft: Haitani Ran, Hanemiya Kazutora, Matsuno Chifuyu, Mitsuya Takashi & Sano Manjirō (Tokyo Revengers).

Part Two: Haitani Rindō, Hitto Kakuchō & Terano South ➵ Tokyo Revengers

Haitani Ran

➵ I can imagine our little Wednesday Addams being interested in two types of girls.

➵ The first type would be the “high-maintenance” type, obviously someone with a lot of demands and requirements that he cannot meet.

➵ She would be confident with a very high self-esteem and probably very fashionable, walking with her chin held high as if she owned the place.

➵ She would be mischievous and flirtatious, but still loyal.

➵ People would sometimes wonder who the bigger player was between the two before they started dating.

➵ The second type that I can see him being interested in is the quiet and reserved type.

➵ However, she still needs to have high standards and be confident in herself.

➵ The fashionista aspect is not that important, but there has to be something that caught his attention.

➵ If anyone has watched the series "The Queen's Gambit," then you must be familiar with the main heroine, Beth Harmon.

➵ When I say reserved, that's the type of reserved that I truly mean.

➵ The one who seems very shy, only to be interpreted as the incarnation of Satan once she's spoken her mind.

➵ Which could also be seen as the “freak behind closed doors” type.

Hanemiya Kazutora

➵ The "a literal angel" type is the kind of girl that our little banana boy is drawn to.

➵ He wouldn't be interested in just any girl, however.

➵ The only type that would catch his eye is one who is exceptionally gentle and patient, with a natural inclination towards helping others.

➵ The kind of person who can't walk past someone in need without offering a helping hand.

➵ Her kindness is not performative, but instead comes from a genuine desire to make the world a better place.

➵ Sometimes I wonder if this girl even exists.

➵ Someone who is very shy and sweet.

➵ She might have a tendency to blush when she's happy or flustered, which only makes her more endearing.

➵ Her voice is soft and soothing, the kind that could calm anyone down with just a few words.

➵ Can also be referred to as the "can't even hurt a fly" type. But to our banana boy, she is so much more than that.

➵ She is an angel in human form, a symbol of everything that is good and pure in the world.

Matsuno Chifuyu

➵ The "extreme badass" type.

➵ While Chifuyu is the type of guy who can get along with different kinds of people, he is instantly drawn to the badass type.

➵ He just thinks that she's so cool and can't help but admire her.

➵ I swear to god! This boy is such a big simp!

➵ Pretty much like Baji, she can be unhinged and have serious mood swings.

➵ She can also be very sweet and bubbly.

➵ However, she's still the cool-headed and collected type of girl who manages to dominate any man she meets.

➵ Her aura is warm and inviting, but also cold and haughty.

➵ Blunt. Extremely blunt, but also surprisingly mature.

➵ She probably reminds him of a stray cat in a way, which is mostly because of her tendencies to go missing for a few days.

➵ Because of this strange combination of characteristics she can also be seen as the “self-contradicting” type.

➵ Overall, she is a walking oxymoron whom any other person would have problems getting along with.

➵ Well… anybody but Chifuyu.

Mitsuya Takashi

➵ Mitsuya would probably be attracted to two types of girls.

➵ The first is the “mother-like” type.

➵ One who is extremely mature, sweet, and caring.

➵ She is excellent with children and takes school very seriously.

➵ She’s a good cook and his sisters love her.

➵ Very hardworking to the point that he sometimes has to ensure that she is not overworking herself.

➵ She can also be seen as the “selfless” type because she tends to place others’ needs before her own.

➵ He would like her because they share a lot of common ground in their interests and values.

➵ The second type is the “she-devil” type.

➵ She’s mischievous and loves to fluster him on a daily basis.

➵ Makes sure to flirt with him and send him compliments and is very bold in showing her attraction.

➵ Still very good with kids and enjoys teasing him a lot.

➵ I think this would be seen as the opposites attract trope due to Mitsuya’s constant need to be like a parental figure for his sisters.

Sano Manjirō

➵ The “too strange for this world” type.

➵ When our little taiyaki (as well as dorayaki) lover had met her, she had immediately piqued his interest.

➵ Because it's a well-known fact that Mikey doesn't get interested in 'ordinary' people.

➵ She had most likely said something utterly ridiculous or done something weird.

➵ And even if she didn't, she probably has a unique sense of fashion that makes her stand out from the crowd.

➵ Typically, she's the type of girl who has an odd way of thinking, and most people can't grasp what she means.

➵ Mikey obviously finds her amusing.

➵ The “dreamer” is the other type that Mikey would most likely get attracted to.

➵ She is the one who has been held hostage by her overly strict parents and wishes for her prince charming to whisk her away.

➵ Or rather, her knight in shining armor, because let's face it, Mikey is nowhere near as sophisticated as a prince is supposed to be.

➵ But it doesn't matter, as long as he’s that somebody that’ll 'show her the world', take her on various adventures, and save her from monsters—or the evil wizard/witch that has been keeping her in confinement.

➵ As you can see, she is the biggest romantic on earth, and Mikey finds it adorable and would happily bring some new colors to shower her world with.

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ourfag · 7 months

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i think part of the resistance i’ve seen in response to the view of ed as an abuse victim—not just the view of izzy as someone who abused ed, but of ed as someone who was abused by him, as opposed to interpretations that pursue an image of Nuance and Complexity (unnecessarily, because their dynamic has heaps of both, but there seems to be a popular impulse to conflate complexity with shared culpability) by characterizing their relationship as being toxic/unhealthy in equal reciprocity, or as “mutually abusive” (oxymoron)—i definitely see the influence of racism there, but i think the racism is also working to amplify an adjacent issue where we tend to receive very specific cultural messaging about What An Abuse Victim Looks Like, and ed is excluded from a lot of that criteria.

he’s outspoken. he’s boisterous. he’s Very Cool and he Wears Leather. he’s physically bigger and browner than the person mistreating him. he spends the first season with a big grey beard, he’s covered in tattoos, he projects the image of A Man’s Man, to say nothing of his being a man in the first place. we see him get aggressive and we see him get angry (and sometimes we even see both at the same time). we see moments where he’s surly, prickly, insensitive, arrogant. his survival techniques and trauma responses incur collateral damage to other people, and in the second season this extends into affecting people we actually sympathize with. he’s extremely private about expressing fear. without examination, his professional relationship to izzy seems to position him as the one with the power slanted in his favor.

most damningly, we see him react multiple times to izzy’s abuse with physical violence. this is behavior that gets referenced all the time in the construction of narratives condemning subjects of physical abuse, let alone emotional abuse. which is why writing that intends for its audience to interpret a character as being unambiguously A Victim Of Abuse will often, for simplicity’s sake, avoid showing the character regularly engaging in anything of the kind.

and again, all of these departures from the image of The Model Victim are compounded by his being a man of color.

without any of the shorthand designed to point a big flashing arrow at his mistreatment, all we have left to work with are the words and actions we see from ed and izzy onscreen. who instigates conflict, and how does the other respond? how are they able or allowed to respond? how do we see them speak about each other to outside parties? does one go out of their way to control or isolate the other? what consequences does either party stand to face in saying “no” to the other? in acting against the other’s wishes? in trying to leave the relationship? when either of them attempts these things, how do we see the other respond?

i realize and appreciate what people are driving at when they garnish their analysis with disclaimers that they’re not saying ed’s just a poor innocent abuse victim, they’re not saying he’s a perfect angel who’s never done anything wrong, and that’s true, but these are points already contained implicitly in statements like “this show’s protagonists act like human people” and “ed’s emotional struggles are portrayed in a realistic and believable way.” my assumption is that these disclaimers are anticipatory responses to worst-faith interpretations of any discussion that attributes any victim status to ed whatsoever, so i definitely sympathize with their inclusion, but a (very small) part of me still worries about them potentially reflecting or reinforcing a belief that there is any way for someone to behave towards their abuser that imparts a responsibility for them to make right whatever damage the abuser receives, or for that matter any degree of ambiguity over their status as an abuse victim in the first place.

part of what i find so gratifying about ed as a character is that i don’t feel like the show’s writing is pressuring me to consider that ambiguity at all. which was a really nice thing for me to discover!

and tbh—did using ed to deconstruct The Model Victim even factor into the writers’ agenda?? ive got no clue. im guessing no? ??maybe?? probably not?? but if you create a main character whose central premise is that he feels trapped in a performance of exaggerated masculinity that he’s desperate to escape, and then you set him up with a character premised on embodying a tangible obstacle against that escape, then i guess that’s the natural shape your story’s gonna be inclined to take

#man thats a lot of words when i couldve just said ‘im not an ed apologist bc he has nothing to apologize for’ and yalld get the message #had to get it off my chest though #abuse tw #sorry about the verbosity Im Aware. Its An Ongoing Issue #this is actually after i went through and edited to make it as concise as possible #the good news is ive finally managed to limit myself to a mere half dozen commas per sentence #the bad news is all these words are mush in my brain now and i can barely tell if theyre actually saying anything #are any of these paragraphs related to one another? i dont fuckin know #i do know i agreed with them when i wrote them though #am i procrastinating in the tags because im nervous about posting this? maybe. shut up #im gonna go do todays wordle

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connoisseursdecomfort · 10 months

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Embracing imperfection - Yor's reflection on her marriage

The latest arc, I believe, is an arc about their reflections upon their marriage. Since I've already made two posts about Twilight (one about how he's arrived at chapter 79, and the other about him in Ch.86), I'd like to talk about Yor a little bit more.

Why did Yor get married in the first place?

For Twilight, it has always been "for the mission", although it is turning into an obvious excuse. Yor's is slightly different. She got married because of social obligations, i.e. the warning from her colleagues, and the concerns for her brother.

Because the Ostanian society deems an unmarried 27-year-old as abnormal, in order to act normal, Yor must get married. She wasn't totally dishonest when she told Loid she wanted to ease Yuri's mind, because Yuri did tell her he would not accept the promotion if she didn't find a good enough boyfriend to take care of her. Of course we also know she needs a cover-up for her assassin job.

But the problem is, Yor is also socially awkward - most probably due to her assassin job - and she's painfully aware of it. She understands what the society requires women to do as wives and mothers. Is it fair? No, and Loid actively rejects this idea. He might have successfully alleviated the pressure, but I don't believe that any person, other than Yor herself, can make it disappear entirely.

On top of this, Yor has been getting more attached to Loid and Anya, particularly Anya.

And slowly she became closer to Loid as well. She recognises how tired Loid is and actively tries to help. As she slowly settles into her new life, she also realises how important the Forgers have been to her. It's only normal that she wants to become a better family member to her family.

(Spoiler alert)

Because of the Forgers, she's able to embrace her own strength, because she feels validated. Anya told her she liked her strong and cool mama, and Loid said she's an excellent mother because she's strong.

However, she still didn't know how to be normal. Her insecurities remained. She still worried about her neighbours gossiping about her not being a decent enough mother for not knowing where to buy tea cakes for her daughter.

She then thought to herself:

But there is no such thing as "good at acting normal". The term "perfectly normal" is an oxymoron. Normality isn't about good at something, as shown in the two gatherings Yor'd joined.

Melinda and her friends told Yor that "not knowing what to do is normal":

During her after-work drinks with her colleagues, she learnt that "having gripes is normal".

Normality is imperfect. And that goes against what she's been doing as an assassin. She needs to be the best in order to survive. We can see hints of Yor being the zealous and cutthroat assassin she is:

In chapter 79 there's a similar scene:

(In the JP version it should be something more similar to "It's better to win.")

Her assassin mentality was also on full display in the volleyball game - to do it alone and to win.

As an assassin, she needs to cut to the chase and deal with her targets quickly. She takes in the information and must act on it quickly. The feeling of being new to something, which also echoes her situation in her marriage, could also add to her anxiety of not being able to help as much as she wants to. So when she's told everyone has gripes, she has to act on it.

It created an internal conflict and she short-circuited.

On one hand, not knowing how to be normal has always been her biggest problem. Her getting married was initially a way for her to "act normal". On the other hand, what if "being normal" means hurting her family, who has now become very dear to her:

And of course she knows she doesn't really want gripes:

She doesn't want to hurt Loid. That's why she did the backflip in Ch.79.

At this point, Yor finally has to face this question: what is her goal? Does she want to act normal for the sake of being normal and find gripes? Or does she want to reflect upon what she really wants to do when she thinks about the possible gripes she might have?

And therefore she came to a conclusion and decided to be honest with Loid:

The arc starts with a pretence - her finding gripes in order to be normal, and ends with her being honest while talking about her true concerns and trying to be supportive. She tries her best, and she's happy.

A lot of people have already pointed out this panel echoes the scene in ch. 14.

I'd like to think this is a new start for Yor.

#spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #yor forger #loid forger #spy family #spy x family manga

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