#hes mush your honour

[dimpledcherry]

Love is Scary

Summary: To love can be one of the hardest things to do. And a lot of us tend to run from out problems rather than fix them.  Pairing: Eddie munson x More-Than-Friends!reader Trigger Warning: Death mentioned / Swearing  Content Warning: Sharing Clothes / Being drenched by the rain / Intimate Awkward conversations / reference to trauma / slight nsfw joke

My Eddie Masterlist!!!

It was a Thursday. It was the middle of November. It was 1985. It was Hawkins. It was 7pm. It was all a perfect sum for a stormy evening. You found yourself bundled up in your coat, trainers sopping, hair drenched and slicked back, eyes squinting from the wind and rain, walking pointedly through Hawkins to the trailer park. 

You never intended your evening to roll out this way but when things mounted up above your shoulders, the act of thinking was never sought out. After almost 2 months of ignoring each other, sitting with the band kids instead of the freaks, keeping your head down in classes, evenings resulting in mediocre movie nights with the previously mentioned, concerts that always fell short or simply sitting at home doing sod all: life was getting suffocating.

Another set of unanswered phone calls, quiet and lonely trips to your locker for class books, and walking home on your own, sitting in your room alone got too much. A sporadic few minutes of storming through the house picking up door keys, your coat and shoes; you were out the door before the contemplation of the weather and your parents confusion settled in your brain.

When you did mentally tune back in though, you were entering the trailer park, hair dripping around your face, t-shirt noticeably wet under the coat you thought was thick enough to get through anything, your thighs bitting from the cold. The park was dark minus the handful of dim street lights, it’s edgy nature was something you’d gotten so used to and learnt to love in your recent history. Being back there made you nostalgic but also feel like home.

Knocking on the familiar trailer door at 8pm wasn't in your nature, and something you’d call inappropriate or disrespectful if you were the receiver but right now, that wasn’t your brains focus. 

The door creaked open unconfidently, the body opening it wasn't the wide shouldered, dark broad you were hoping for. “Y/n?” But were you so glad it wasn't the Munson you’d expected. “Kid, wha-”

“Hi, is Eddie home?” You knew the answer was a no, from the lack of van, but prayed silently it might have been in the garage. 

“Did you walk here?” You nodded, “Get in here before you catch a cold.” The elder Munson dragged you in. Instinctively, you took off your dripping outerwear, apologising for its mess. Wayne took it off you, hanging the coat on a near by radiator. “Ed’s gone out, but he should be back soon.” 

“Oh- I’m sorry for butting in on your evening Wayne-” Your voice small and disheartened and mumbled behind your t-shirt that was being used to dry your face.

“Nonsense kid.” He called out as he walked away to a laundry basket. The trailer still felt like home, and Wayne still treated you like it was only yesterday he saw you... not 2 months ago. “Listen, you take these and go have a shower - go warm up.” He was thrusting a pile of folded clothes at you, “I’m guessing your drenched to the bone so there’s a pair of Eddie’s boxers in there for you.”

“Thank you Wayne, but I'm not that wet.”

“You’re making a puddle in my living room.” Delivered in his usual stoic blunt tone. “Go get warmed up and I'll make you a tea.” 

The giving nature of the Munsons was a gift. 2 boys who didn’t have a lot but would stretch it around the world for anyone and everyone who needed it. The green tinted bath / shower, the grey shower curtain, the brown cabinets: it all felt like a second home to you. The humming of the shower, the golden rule “give it 10 seconds before getting in or you’ll ice yourself” running around your brain (in Eddies warm tone, accompanied by a tip of his head) and the collection of products dotted on the edge of the bath that smelt like a warm hug to you.

Gladly for you, the sound of the shower drowned out all other noises from the trailer, letting your brain only focus on the warmth and provide you with some form of calm - even for 10 minutes.

In the living room of the home, the door ripped open, “Old man, the good have been collected!” Eddie’s gravelly voice announced, followed by him waving a plastic bag, “What are you looking at me like for?” In reference to Wayne stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, stone expression.

“Got anything you wanna explain to me, boy?”

“What ever phone call you’ve received, it wasn't me.” He chuckled to himself, rounding the breakfast bar to lean against the draws.

“Not so much a phone call. Nothing you wanna indulge me in?”

“You gotta give me a hint here.” As the young man started the empty the bags items - bottles of beer, packets of smokes, a packet of matches - he noticed a few miss placed items. “Is that-”

“Wanna tell me why Y/n was stood at my doorstep after walking from the other side of town in the pouring rain?”

Yep. It was her coat. He knew it. Eddie felt his heart stop and stomach fall, he knew he had to address this soon, but he’d hoped it be on his terms, “Erm,” The brain that was infamous for never stopping seemed to fall silent. He knew the stare he was getting, he knew this was a Wayne is right and Eddie needs to be honest or listen moment. 

Wayne was never a do as I say guardian, rather a let's find a compromise and understand why we did what we did one. The only times he stepped over the barrier was whenever his nephew did anything illegal and got caught for it, or acted similarly to his dad. 

“Boy I'm waiting-”

“I don’t know.”

“Well something must have happened. Women don’t walk in heavy rain late at night, for nothing. You used to bring her home almost every day and now I can’t remember the last time I saw her, or heard you speak about her.”

Eddie unfolded his arms and left his hands to carry his face, a groan falling out, “I fucked up, Wayne.”

“No shit-” He laughed at his boy, crossing the kitchen to stand next to him.

“I like her so much, and I got scared. I’m so used to quick, surface level things. I don’t do vulnerability, the last time I let myself be open to anything deep and personal was Mom. And look how that turned out. I got scared; I don’t wanna hurt Y/n. I just know I would, or will, so I just ran way. I'm no hero, Wayne.”

“Ed-”

“No, Wayne, I'm not. And even without wanting to hurt her, I did. I’m just like dad, and I don’t wanna be that.” The boy rambled, his eyes never leaving the floor and his hands constantly playing with his rings and feet jumping in place.

Wayne wasn't used to this Eddie anymore. He’d gone through the motions of melancholy, flat, monotone, effortless Eddie - he’d pulled the boy from grey to colour. And was truly convinced he’d never meet that side of the kid again. “You are so much like your mother.” He laughed hopelessly. Eddie looked up at him ready to bat the comment down, “Listen to me kid, you are definitely your mothers son. If she was still about, she’d agree with me. The only thing you share with your dad is the boisterousness and the surname.” The silence that fell between them was the indication was Wayne’s words were sinking in Eddie’s brain. “But son, you can’t run away when things get out of your comfort zone.”

“I know.”

“She’s a smart girl, Ed. she wouldn't be in that shower if she didn’t think you were worth something. Love’s hard, always has been and always will be for a Munson, but when you’re given the opportunity to feel it, do it, boy.” He stopped himself, putting a hand on his now taller nephews shoulder, “She reminds me of your mother, too - so full of life and love that there's no where to put it all. Your mom woulda done the same thing for your dad - walk in pouring rain when it could've just been a phone call.” Eddie made a weird noise at that, Wayne squinted at him, “What.”

“I-um I've been ignoring her calls.” He couldn't look at his uncle. 

“You’re a dipshit.” Eddie pulled a straight smile at his uncles blunt honesty, he agreed. “And she still tries with you. Realise what you’ve got son, and go fix it, for gods sake.”

The twos conversation was broken by the sound of the bathroom door opening.  Being wrapped in Eddies oversized joggers and jumper was the closest thing to solace you had in the last 2 months. Even if tonight fully put a close to yours and Eddies friendship, you’d die happy knowing you could get away with stealing something of his forever - even if it was just his clothes. 

Your heart dropped at the silence and extra soul in the room. Thinking you were gonna come out the bathroom to Wayne and a conversation... He was definitely the last thing you expected. 

Stood in all his usual jean and leather jacket glory stood Eddie Munson. His face was small, the tiny smile laid hesitantly, hands jumbled in his pockets. “Hey.” His voice was small too.

“Hi.” You couldn't help the small smile, he always put a smile on your face. Your hands lost under the sleeves of the jumper, shoulder hitched up to your ears.

The air was thick, just the two of you staring at each other, both overly aware of your independent breathing - almost taking every second at it came. 

As though running on autopilot, your feet padded forward toward the boy, and your arms stretched themselves out, eloping you in him before he could react. The reaction was one Eddie never expected - he’d tensed up ready for you to shout at him, to hit him, to do something that replicated your pain. 

The moment you felt him wrap his arms around you, and his cheek on your head, you let go of a breath you never knew you held. Absentmindedly squeezing him.

“You’re cold.” Like an accidentally dropped thought. Eddie’s voice was soft and concerning, he brung you in closer, rubbing your back.

Being tucked under his jacket and in his chest was home. It was a place of safety and protection, anything negative never reached that spot, “And you’re warm.” You hummed, your tone was filled with love and comfort; you weren't going to apologise for it either.

“Shower not warm you up?” The way he spoke to you was immensely delicate, like you were a crying child and he was the consoling parent. You knew it shouldn’t have given you butterflies, but you'd be lying if you said otherwise. He forever had a way of talking to you like you were fragile china. 

You groaned in his chest, rubbing your cheek into him itching to get closer, “I don’t think any amount of boiling water could warm me up after that.”

He laughed lightly at your dramatics, feeling awful at the same time. “Sorry for that.”

“Nah, I quite enjoyed it. Might make it a new hobby.” Was it too early to joke about it? You could feel him sigh above you.

“You’re a nightmare.” Eddie was sure everyone in the world could feel the love dripping off his voice.

You smiled, pulling your head out to look up at the metalhead, “And you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” Arms linking even tighter behind him. No matter how loved up he sounded, it couldn’t psychically warm your bones. 

He was looking down at you, one hand around your waist and another moving the damp strands of your hair behind your ear, “I know.” It was a whisper.

With an agreement that a conversation was needed to be had, and a thank you to Wayne for the tea, you both directed yourself to Eddie’s bedroom. It was still the same explosion of his mind as you’d remember it being - only a slight bit more messier.

You sat yourself on the far side of his bed, putting your mug down on the speaker that sat in place of a bedside table and the boy knelt down to the cabinet under his cassette player.

Sitting in the comfort of his bed, you noticed a familiar friend - an out of place object - in his pillows. Sat on the side where you’d grown to own on the weekends was a small stuffed horse you’d both named Flo.

“What one?” Eddie’s voice pulled you out of your trance, confusion painted on your face, he nodded down to the selection of cassettes. It warmed your heart at his options: 3 of your favourite albums - well the ones he felt were not pop-y enough to make his brain explode. You’d made your choice and the once silent room was filled with recognisable melodies. 

Eddie plopped down onto the bed, next to you, stretched out on this back as you sat cross legged next to him, Flo in your lap, fiddling with her ears.

“You kept her?” You voice was soft and at a whisper. Seeing the deep smile on your face made Eddie’s heart flutter. The small horse was a gift he’d won you at a carnival that was in town - the two of you went alone, too scared to call the evening out a date. But it ended in giggles, candy floss induced highs and a new stuffed toy. The memory never fails to calm you.

“Of course I did.” Eddie couldn't help the pride in his tone, “Someone’s gotta keep me warm at night.” You sighed a laugh at his flirtatiousness. 

“Has she been behaving?” 

“Absolutely, but she did tell me she misses her mom.”

You looked over at him, he had a dumb smile on his face, “Oh yeah?” He nodded, “Well Flo,” You’d turned back to the stuffed animal, “I kinda miss your dad too.”

Eddie put a hand on your lower back, rubbing it lightly. “I’m sorry I dropped you outta the blue.” The quiet grey Eddie was coming back.

You turned, leaning against his wall, his hand retracted from you and found home on your thighs. “Please talk to me, Ed. Did I do anything?” You started to stroke the top of his arm.

“Jesus no, y/n. You never did a thing. I guess-” You felt him hesitate so you moved your hand up to his shoulder, still stroking. “I don’t know. I’ve never had an easy life: I never really get the good ending, ya know.”

Knowing where this was going, you interjected. “You don’t have to tell me if you aren't ready, Eds.” His life story was only known through the walls for you. You knew to not believe the rumours about his parents and that he’d open up to you when he was ready.

“I want to, you kinda deserve it. I’ve been a dick.”

“Bit of an understatement.” You laughed lightly, looking down at the boy with a smile. “You know I went to see the new Death Wish  with Johnny from band: one of the most awkward things i’ve ever done.” You were still laughing.

“You’re joking? Here I was, refusing to go watch it and here you are, whoring yourself about.” You gasped at his dramatic adjective, slapping him on the arm slightly. “Seriously though Sweet, I owe it to you.” You couldn’t help the flutter at the nickname.

“Well don’t feel like you need to tell me everything, just say what you’re comfy with.” He squeezed your thigh as a thank you as you kept stroking where his collar bone met his shoulder.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling, “You know I didn’t get to grow up with white fences, and home cooked meals. I did for a bit but- life just sort of...became real really early on. My mum was amazing, she used to wake me singing to me, and we’d make breakfast singing to each other, the house was never quiet.” You noted how Eddie was never quiet - everywhere he went, music followed. “Dad used to join in at times, but I don’t really remember anything too great with him. Wayne told me he got into a bad crowd at school and it just followed him through life. Apparently when he met my mum, he sorted himself out for a bit, but old habits died hard, I guess.” You nodded and hummed along, making your presence known by the constant touching. “Ya know, he shaved my head once.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got my moms hair, and she always had it down and free and I wanted that- but-um-” He hesitated again, the momentary confidence ran away. You scooted a little closer. “My hair was like, down near my shoulders in places and I guess he didn’t like it. Called me a queer, told me I looked like a girl and off it went.” Instinctually, your hand shot up into his curls moving misplaced bundles and rolled some of it around your fingers, “That was the first time I head them fight.” His voice was reminiscent but flat... painfully flat. 

“I'm glad you had the confidence to grow it back.”

“Keeps a part of mom with me, yaknow.” He mumbled, twisting the lone ring on his left hand. There was something so raw and honest in that sentence alone, you felt a knot in your throat. He cleared his throat, “Dad was quite a lot at times, when mom would work and he was looking after me, he let me hang out with his gang - they’d teach me to Hotwire cars, to roll, how to grind things, the full works. Mom and Wayne went off on him for that one.” He paused, “When mom died- he got worse, fast. Wayne used to come round a few times a month for dinner or we’d go see him but that all stopped, dad just kinda stopped parenting and I became a hinderance.” You dropped your hand to his jaw, rubbing his cheek with your thumb, you’ll never be a hinderance. “He and mom - before she died - would argue a lot towards the end. She never said anything, but he’d always bang on about what an expensive mistake I was, or I'd just hear things break. My mom went out one night - I presume, to get away from it all, and-” You saw his eyes filling, he rolled his lips in and made a gesture with his hands to fill in the gap. 

You squeezed his shoulder, unable to stop the frown on your face. Eddie was never good with words when big emotions were being felt - so you’d come to learn. “I’m sorry Eddie, she sounded amazing.” You spoke soft and quietly, slowly so he felt each syllable. 

“She was! She used to bake loads - every week there was a new cake in the stand” You now realised why Eddie got so teary when you’d brought round a cake out the blue a few months back. “She was always singing and dancing. Wayne said that you remind him of her.” You squinted at the boy, still rubbing his collar bone. “You both have a lot of love for the damned.” Something about that made you tear up again, “And you’re always calm, always singing and smiling too. I think she'd love you a lot.” His voice was laid with something you’d never heard before. He spoke slower, lighter and more airy. You turned your head aware from him, “Hey, you okay?”

He heard you sniffle, and saw you wipe your face, “Yeah,” you turned back to him, chuckling to yourself, “I don’t know why I'm crying.” He stretched an arm up to wipe your cheek. “I’m sure if your mom was still here, she’d be so proud of you.” You looked down at him, offering your biggest, most hearty smile.

“Do you wanna go meet her?” the heaviness of the question broke your heart, “I ain’t been to see her in a while, she could probably do with some new flowers.” 

“Oh Ed-” You were back wiping your eyes, a small laugh again at his soft side not many people got to meet. “I’d be honoured to.” 

The two of you smiled at each other, falling into a lull in conversation. You left his presence to get your drink, falling back onto the wall to drink it. Eddie stayed laying down below you. He looked lost in his thoughts as he mindlessly played with Flo - bending her legs in random directions. The sight filled your heart. Oh how you’d missed this boy. 

“Y/n?”

“Eddie?” You both asked for the other facing your respective objects: him -> Flo, you -> your mug. 

“Why did you wait 2 months to come see me?”

“How long were you planning to ignore me for?”

“I asked first.”

“Okay-” You dragged out, taking a sip of the hot drink. “I was a little confused at first. You kinda just flipped on a hat.” You noticed him cringe, “I was really lost. I thought something was going on, and you’d tell me when you were ready. But it just kinda got too much and I didn’t really feel wanted-” Your voice quieting with the honesty and weight of your admittance, “I guess after 2 months, I just had enough. I’d wanted to drag you out that lunch hall and scream at you everyday, but it just felt wrong.”

“You should’ve. I think I coulda done with a slap to wake me up.”

“No- nobody needs that.” You looked over at him, he was still bemused by the toy. You put a hand on his arm, “You just needed time.”

He smiled at the boy, “I got scared, to be honest.” He paused, “I didn’t grow up with a lot of love - sure Mom and Dad had their moments, but it was always over before it really started. I was always raised to believe Munson’s never get a happy ending.” You squeezed his arm, “ Or if we got close, we’d fuck it up somehow and-” He paused. “I guess I didn’t wanna lose you on a circumstance out of my control-”

“So you curled in on yourself?”

He nodded, “The Munson doctrine is anything but white picket fences, nuclear families and happy endings.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want white picket fences with you.” He turned his head to you, and you looked down at him, “I just want you. In anyway that comes. We could live in a trailer just the two of us until our dying days, we could be destined only 2 years together, we could have 100 kids- anything and as long as you were there, I'd be happy.”

The two of you fell into a stare, drowning the other in a look that read nothing but love. Eddie cracked first: chuckling, “That was disgusting, Y/n.”

“Here I am, trying to cheer you up, calm you down. And you continue to bully me.” You both revealed in the lighter mood.

“Oh I'm grateful.” He sat up with you, “But it still doesn’t excuse how cheesy that was.” You shook your head at the boy, he leant over to grab the mug out your hands, placing it on his bedside table. Eddie lent back, stretching an arm over your shoulders and tugging you into his chest.

“For the record, I didn't know how long I was going to ignore you for.” He’d placed Flo into your lap, his hand rubbing your bicep, “Maybe until she started looking at me with too much guilt.” 

You laughed at the horse, “Speaking of which, how much do I owe in child support charges?” 

“Hmm, I think it’s a lot.” He contemplated, grabbing your chin so you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” He nodded, “Got a figure in mind?”

“Yours?” There was your Eddie back - the 6ft flirt. You let out a cackle, gaging jokingly. 

“You’ve never even seen me naked!” 

“Jesus, don’t sadden me any more, Woman!” He quipped back with as much volume and torment. 

“You're an idiot-”

“How about: you repay your child support by staying here tonight and joining me and the boy at lunch tomorrow?” He cocked a brow at you.

You turned the horse around to face you, looking at her, you pretended to have a conversation. Watching you back in his arm made Eddie melt, he felt more at peace than he had in weeks. He couldn’t deny he was still scared of his feelings, but he was ready to try again, to try be honest.

“Flo thinks its a smart idea, and so do i.” You smiled back up to the boy.

[itachiiwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚❝𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐞! 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐢!❞

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

Content: 18+, smut, senpai-kouhai dynamic, fem!reader, rough sex, possessiveness, creampies, multiple orgasms, age gap (reader is 5 years older than Satoru), mutual pinning, Gojo "I have a breeding kink" Satoru.

Genre: smut, fluff

pt.2

Since Gojo canonly is into older women as well, I can't help but think of Senpai!Reader who's extremely flirty.

You're kind, pretty, considerate and confident enough that you effortlessly make him feel like a pile of mush? Sign him up.

And he's such a show off, you already being impressed with him with the virtue of him being the Gojo Satoru, the honoured one wasn't enough. He needed to show you how fantastic he was during missions, hollow purpling people left and right and ignoring in bliss the scoldings from Yaga-Sensei for some serious property damage because—hey! He can take some of it if it means you'd flash him your prettiest smile, touch his arm and tell him how good he is. The sorcerer's infinity around you goes away like a reflex.

Like now.

"Satoru, you were so good" The gentle caress on his bicep and that fucking, sultry look in your eyes and how your voice was almost a purr doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yeah? Tell me about it, what else was I good at?" The cheeky dimpled grin on his face with a characteristically gentle voice he only uses with you, different from his obnoxious tone towards others, while coaxing you to give him more compliments, his ego soaring through the milky way.

You giggle and kiss his cheek without saying a word, sending him a wink before walking away from him, leaving him wanting more. Like always. And he short circuits, a little. Just a little.

Kouhai!Satoru who spoils you rotten without a warning and brings you souvenirs from the places he visits for missions— what he claims be a habit, a habit preserved only for you; because you'd return the favour immediately by calling him over for dinner.

Much to everyone's dismay, he won't shut up about you.

There's Shoko who presses him on about the status of your relationship. "She's always all over you, did you fuck already?" To which Satoru reverts in much of mock offence.

"She's my dearest Senpai, I'm not that disrespectful~" He replies meaninglessly as if he'd leave the opportunity to, if he ever got it.

Kouhai!Satoru, who feels his breath hitch in his throat and all the blood in his body rush down to his cock the moment you send him a picture of you delicately cupping your perfect tits, "accidentally".

Kouhai!Satoru who makes you regret your little stunt to seduce him when he teleports to your house, with a cold look in his eyes and a mirthful smile on his face as he places his hands on your waist. "So, you said it wasn't for me hm..? How about I make it about me?"

Kouhai!Satoru who fucks you into the mattress till you're a blabbering mess, holding your head down into the pillow, your muffled moans encouraging him further as he ruts his hips into yours, while being so goddamn loud with his whimpers.

He groans, feeling his cock slip out of your messy, sweet cunny because of how wet it was due to his cum and your arousal after being overstimulated to the brim. He plants soft, sloppy wet kisses on the nape of your neck.

"Wanna go again Senpaiiii—" He whines with a slight vibration on your skin, prolonging the 'i', and your eyes widen. He was insatiable.

"Mh.. wait.."

He huffs a small laugh, squeezing the flesh of your ass before rooting a light spank onto it. Getting up from the bed, compromising on the fact that he was aching for more.

"It's alright, rest up..I'mma get you some water.." But you were a simple woman, his considerateness and willingness to provide you with aftercare made your cunt clench around nothing.

And you thought it was a great idea to arch your back so sluttily to him, spreading your pussylips with your fingers reached down, looking at him like a vixen from the seem of your shoulder, not exactly mindful of the consequences for your poor body. "Fuck me, Toru.."

And Satoru was not an idiot to let it slide.

He frantically slipped it back inside, ruthlessly fucking you once again.

"S'good Satoru..mh..fuck me harder.."

And was he really the strongest if he didn't oblige to what his favourite girl in the whole wide world asked of him?

"... Yeah? You want it harder? Tell me again, for who was that picture for?" He cooes against your ear lobe with a stupid smirk on his lips before it's waved off with a grunt when his skin smacks against yours. He spits on his sculpted digits, slipping them in your wet cavern, accompanying his cock, not having any mercy on your puffy, battered cunt.

"Ah—, too much 'Toru, fuck.. I'm sorry..it was for you.." He hums, placing his body on top of yours after switching in multiple positions through the night, his torso slick with sweat pressed against your own damp back. The room was a whirlwind, but neither of you gave a shit.

"What was that..? I haven't forgiven you yet Senpai.. playing with my feelings like that, shit—maybe I should get you pregnant, so that everyone knows you're mine that way.. I'm never letting you go.." his thumb dancing onto your clit as you push out his seed.

And he doesn't. He never lets you go.

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 2024. Plagiarism not authorised. Do not distribute my work to other platforms.

[r1elle]

desperate male lead syndrome is making a strong comeback in 2024 and i’m here for it!! so i wrote about this annoying loser (your honour i love him so much)

husband atsumu drabble because this is what the people want ^^ (i’m people)

“baby, don’t go looking at yer’ poor husband like that..” atsumu pouts, poking your cheeks at the sight of your evidently disdained face.

okay. you could go do that. you could also just forget the broken ceramic on the floor, still not cleaned up because atsumu would rather make amends with you first than cleaning up the potential risk that was right infront of you both.

honestly, you couldn’t tell whether you should be glad, or concerned.

“i’m not mad at you,’ you say, the expression on your face clearly betraying your words. “don’t worry about it, atsumu.”

you thought that maybe your words would ease the blonde man’s resolve, however it seemed to have only made it worse for him.

“atsumu?! no baby, no love, no ‘tsumu?!” he stresses, hands going up to his mouth.

you stare at his rather dramatic delivery,—and was that the life in his eyes flying away?? he looks like a modern rendition of casper the ghost.

“i’ll do the dishes for a week, no,—a month! i’ll buy ya’ those heels ya’ told me not to buy at the mall!!” atsumu frantically spouts, saying anything he could think of as he continues to cling onto your figure, his face mushing onto your neck and shoulder area.

you shut your eyes. just.. how could you stay annoyed? look at his pouty face, how his ears seemed to be more red than the rest of his skins current complexion. he practically made it impossible for you to even be the least bit mad, and you would’ve felt as guilty as a convict for even attempting to do so. that’s the kind of effect he had on you.

in response, you merely sigh. but there wasn’t any bark to it. “or, you could clean up the shattered pot on the floor.” you say, making sure to bring your tone to a more gentle and reassuring one.

atsumu turns to at you once again, his blonde locks tickling your skin as he moves.

“yer’ not mad anymore?” he beams. “i mean, we could always make another pot, right? how ‘bout it?” he says, hopeful eyes staring directly to your orbs.

in all realness, you genuinely weren’t mad at him, —(as much as he would sulk and say you definitely were), no. you were just sad at the fact that you and atsumu’s ceramic that you both had worked so hard to sculpt and paint on your first date was now shattered on the floor, all but beyond repair.

“i was never mad at you, promise.” you say. “just a bit disappointed. i liked that pot a lot, you know.” your hand reaches for atsumu’s cheek, pinching it slightly. physical touch always seemed to reassure him more than anything else.

atsumu mentally notes that he should make you breakfast in bed the following morning as he stares at your affirming expression. he plants various of pecks on your face after doing so.

“i’m sorry, princess.” atsumu coo’s, his hand pushing away the little hairs on your forehead as he plants a kiss on it.

“i’ll make it up to ya’, i promise.”

— • —

now, you know that you most definitely shouldn’t be all too surprised, considering that, well, —this was miya atsumu we were talking about,

but seriously….

you stare at the little bundle of fur politely sitting on your lap as you rub your eyes, just having come out of your nights sleep. you also happen to notice the smell of pancakes and hot chocolate coming from the bedside table.

“ ‘tsumu, where—?..no, when did you get this dog?”

“i have my ways.” he proudly grins. “but look, it’s yer’ favourite breed!”

“….yes, i know. but where did you—“

“we have a daughter now, hehe.”

“since when did i agre—“

“so adorable, definitely takes after her mommy and daddy. look at the bow on her head!”

“ ‘tsum-“

“i love you.”

“dont change the subject!”

——————————————————————————

atsumu brainrot is real and clocking me out (kageyama i can explain)

update: TYSM for 1k+ notes omg ??!! thank u all for loving this loserboy with me i feel so heard 😢😢🙏🏽

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Simon Riley x Reader

Title: Our House

Synopsis: He slips up and you tease him in the mall.

Warning: Just a tooth-rotting fluff piece because I ADORE writing fluff <3

AN: THIS MAN HAS EYES THAT I WOULD KILL FOR AGH. TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF IS ALL HE DESERVES <3333

You haven't went to the mall alone in a year, not since Simon started seeing you. If he's deployed, he'll have a friend escort you--he won't have his birdie walking around the mall aimlessly where a bad person could take you!

You moved in two months ago when he was honourably discharged--he was shot and it was bad enough to get him discharged, but hey, he doesn't have really major hand tremours unless he's pissed--and today you're at the mall.

"Are you kidding, Si?" You ask, holding up some random basket, "It's 15 pounds, and it'll fit in the bathroom!"

He's rolled his eyes and drug his feet about calling it "your house" or "his house", it's always been "the house", maybe the lack of ownership meant something to him.

Simon crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow, "Can we fit it? I mean our bathroom is small," he says, taking it out your hands and setting it down.

He doesn't even catch his slip up at first, but you pick the basket back up, "This so could fit in our bathroom," you retort, enunciating the 'our' to tease him.

This man.. This man has been through hell and back, literally tortured, so you wouldn't think your teasing would affect him, but this man has the reddest ears as it dawns on him what he said, his face getting all splotchy-pink.

"Oh.." is all he mumbles out, taking the basket and quietly holding it, "it will fit, we'll get the basket."

His heart is fluttering and his brain is mush, all Simon can think about is how heavy that three letter word is.

You let out a small chuckle, shaking your head lovingly, "C'mon.. lets go back to shopping for our house."

You take his hand and Simon just lets you lead him around the mall, and this man looks so helpless following behind you, a large clunky man, a bull in a china shop beside the love of his life, a porcelain doll in comparison.

Occasionally you pick an item up and show it to him, and he just nods along to whatever you say.

The second y'all are home, he mumbles "our house," to himself as he kicks off his shoes and he sets the bags down on the nearest table, taking the bags in your hands out and picking you up.

Your arms wrap instinctively wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist, he holds you close, nuzzling your noses against eachother's, twirling you around like you're a cherished childhood toy.

"It isn't our home, it's our house. You're my home" Simon finally mumbles to you in that gruff voice, effectively melting your heart.

Because he isn't wrong, it's just a house. A house of memories, sure, an apartment where you both live and eat and sleep, because your home has no permanent relationship. He's currently carrying you, after all, twirling you around and nuzzling your nose, treasuring you.

[sundrop-writes]

Mister Mxyzptlk

Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader Blurb

Word Count: 800

Sundrop's Main Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of bullying (Stiles being bullied for having a 'weird' name); mentions of Stiles's trauma surrounding his mother's death; obscure comic book references; this is mostly just fluff - very light implications toward sexual themes, flirting and romantic attraction between Stiles and the reader.

A/N: So, the last time I was actively watching Teen Wolf (when S3 and S4 were airing) I thought it was a running gag that Stiles's real name was never revealed and it was just always a mystery to the audience (like how it's a gag in Degrassi that Heather St. Claire's face is never seen). But when I saw a tiktok showing his real name, I was shocked, and then entirely amused by it. And I was also really offended because I'm watching S1 for the first time and the coach calls Stiles's name 'child abuse' and his father doesn't even dispute that, knowing that it's a family name to honour his dead mother's side of the family. And the fact that he is a character whose real name is very hard to pronounce and very few people actually know what it is got me thinking about the comic book character - Mister Mxyzptlk - and I realized that Stiles, being a comic book nerd who is always referencing things like The Incredible Hulk and Batman and Robin, would fucking love that comparison. Thus, this mini fic. Usually, this is an idea I would save and put it as a moment in a longer fic, but I'm not currently working a fic where I feel like this fits in, so it has become its own mini fic. Random idea, but enjoy this random fluff.

...

"Is Stiles your real name?"

You inquired lightly, walking out of school with Scott and Stiles.

"It's something I've been wondering since we met."

Stiles felt a unique anxiety clutch in his chest at this question. He hated telling people his real name, especially when those people were pretty girls. Especially when they were pretty girls he had only met a week ago who were new in town who otherwise didn't know what a reputation he had for being a loser and could form their own opinions of him.

He could see any chance he had with you being flushed down the drain at top speed. But it wasn't much different from any other girl he previously had a crush on.

"Cause, I thought maybe it was your last name. Guys who play sports usually do that - always call each other by their last names." You went on, not sensing the awkwardness as Scott and Stiles eyed each other heavily, waiting for the other person to speak. "But I heard the coach calling you Balinski?"

"Stilinski." Stiles corrected you. "I think he gets my name wrong on purpose to belittle me." He gave a fake laugh to play it off, but you frowned.

"Stiles is a nickname." Scott added on, trying to usher Stiles away from the awkwardness of having to tell you himself. "His real first name is... really hard to pronounce, and not a lot of people at our school even know it. So - everyone just knows him as Stiles."

This brought Stiles back to a painful memory - in fourth grade, someone had seen the attendance sheet with his real name on it, and showed it to everyone else. And this had started a barrage of bullying and rumours about how he had gotten the name.

Some said that his mother hated him as soon as he was born and wanted to name him something really ugly to match him. Some said that his mother had a brain tumour and she named him in such an odd manner because her brain was 'mush' when he was born. And whenever people in the halls mockingly called him 'tumour baby' or 'brain tumour' - then he had to painfully be reminded of his mother's absence from his life.

"So you're like Mister Mxyzptlk?" You posed, a smile coming across your face from the joy of making such an apt reference.

Stiles looked at you then, unsure if he had heard you correctly - but his heart started to beat faster and he was sure that his crush developed into full, heart-stopping love in that moment.

A gorgeous, cute, sweet girl like you making such an obscure dorky reference - there was nobody else. Nobody else would ever make him feel the way you had in that moment.

Scott was entirely confused, looking between the two of you with utter dumbness across his face, wondering why Stiles' heart rate had increased so much.

"Ugh - yeah." Stiles stuttered out awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"So, is learning your real name the power to defeating you?" You posed, smoothing your voice into a sultry tone, stepping closer to Stiles, running a hand up his bare forearm - clearly flirting now. "Do I get three chances to moan it in your ear without making a mistake before you're allowed to do whatever you want to me?"

Scott regretted his super-hearing, being able to catch exactly what you said in a low whisper against Stiles's ear.

Stiles's brain was short-circuiting.

You were making nerdy references and coming onto him now. His blood was rioting between rushing to his pants and giving him a heart attack, and soon, before he could stop it, he practically shouted:

"Marry me!"

And while this would have been a colossally awkward fumble with any other girl, you simply giggled and smiled.

"You're so cute." You complimented in return, reaching out to gently 'boop' a finger against his nose.

Stiles continued to gape at you, feeling like he needed to say more, needed to communicate just how epicly wonderful you were in his eyes.

"Chocolate? Or vanilla? Our wedding cake could have 4 tiers, or we could get one of those cupcake tower things, I heard those are really trendy."

You let out another laugh, thinking that he was joking - not realising that he was already picking out an engagement ring in his head, and wondering which comic book characters you would name your children after.

"We can start with a date." You told him. "Friday. After the game."

He nodded.

"Yes, date." He agreed eagerly. "A date would be amazing."

"I have to get going now." You added on - and he felt like he was floating when you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before you departed. "See you later?"

"Everyday for the rest of our lives." Stiles mumbled quietly, entirely love-struck.

"What the hell was that?" Scott asked, still entirely baffled.

"We shall have a spring wedding." Stiles replied, his eyes still locked on your back as you walked away - clearly, he was still caught up in the euphoria of the interaction.

Scott had to drag him away.

[minbells]

Oh, how precious they are, really. The flustered look on their face, the telltale signs of adoration that seem to surround them whenever they are in your presence. The shy men are truly gifts from the gods, angels on earth, butterfly kisses on your soul. Breathtaking and so cute.

It took forever for him to finally get enough courage and actually commit to a relationship with you. All because he was way too shy and inexperienced, and his heart was beating way too fast whenever your eyes would meet his own in that love stare of yours, so enticing and hypnotizing that he thought his brain would turn to mush. Frankly, his insecurities would also keep him away from you. How could you, a being so perfect and so kind, choose him ? Of course, this never kept him from daydreaming about you constantly. Your beautiful face, your lips, your hands wrapped around him, your blinding smile, your body… how ashamed he was of those inappropriate thoughts that made his whole face (and other places) heat up like a furnace. He was shy, sure, but definitely not innocent. All that was on in mind was you, you, you. When he wakes up with the sun and then late at night when he falls asleep under the moon, you’re everywhere. And yet whenever he tried to talk to you, he was becoming a stuttering mess and making a fool of himself. In his opinion he was quite the idiot, but to you he was utterly perfect.

How could you not fall for him ? Despite being shy and unsure of himself, he rises to any given occasion to comfort you in your lowest moments. Determination and love overcomes his anxiety, and when it comes to you and your honour, he always speaks with confidence and conviction. He would go on walks with you and listen to whatever is on your mind. He follows you around like a lost puppy, watching your every moves with interest, especially whenever you would cook something for the two of you. Wanna taste ? You would ask, and he happily obliged, wrapping his lips around the spoon you presented him and humming in delight at the flavours hitting his tongue, made with love.

All the anonymous — not so anonymous — handmade gifts he would make from scratch for you before you started dating were piling up in your room in a secluded space reserved just for the things he would give you. Needless to say, your genuine feelings for him as well as the flirtatious remarks you made every now and then — oh those teasing compliments that would make the tip of his ears heat up — finally coaxed him out of his shell.

And now that he finally got a taste of your lips and attention, he was done for. Does the nervousness ever goes away, even after months of a steady and healthy relationship with you ? No, not at all. But it’s different now. He knows he’s head over heels for you, and he knows you love him back. Which truly just unlocks a completely new side of him, one that is fully devoted to your happiness and pleasure, one that wants to try new things and go over his limits. This side of him gets flustered just as much, but he’s much more confident in his affection, more than willing to pleasure you and impress you in order to get your attention.

He puts all his attention in touching you and kissing you right, until you’re completely out of breath, putty in his hands, and weak in the knees. He actually has to hold you up in his strong hold so his mouth can keep chasing yours, otherwise you might melt in a puddle at his feet. Again. More. Kiss me more. His pleas never fall on deaf ears as you are always as eager as he is, and you kiss him more and more until he’s satisfied and your lips are puffy. The sparkles of admiration in his eyes seem to shine a little brighter every day that passes by, and his lips are always more eager to meet your own, no matter how shy he gets whenever you praise him and moan breathlessly in his ear. Yeah, it’s impossible not to fall for him.

amajiki tamaki, midoriya izuku, kamado tanjiro, armin arlert, kozume kenma, yamaguchi tadashi, azumani asahi, okkotsu yuuta, yoshino junpei, + all your favs.

[littlemissshoei]

SYLUS HEADCANONS (LAD)

sfw & nsfw — this one's in honour of my sylus smutshot doing so well heh..

content warning: suggestive / nsfw content, mentions of kinks, fluff, bad habits

i love Sylus so much guys.. Nothing's gonna top Zayne for me but he feels like a breathe of fresh air for sure!

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS enjoys teasing you. He loves trampling on all your nerves, pissing you off and driving you towards your breaking point. His sarcastic little remarks followed by the oh so innocent drop of his favourite petnames for you (kitten, sweetie) are enough to make you want to strangle him.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS makes sure you know how badly he wants you. Be it from his painfully obvious flirt attempts through text messages or how straightforward he acts when you're face to face; He wants you to know that you have his full attention and that he'd do anything to win you over.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is honest with you when it comes to his business and way of handling things. He doesn't need someone that's terrified of him by his side, hence why he decided to let you onto anything you wish to know, waiting to see just how much you can handle.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS makes sure to get you everything your heart desires. He doesn't care about what he has to do to obtain it (Both legal and illegal methods), He will get it for you with no hesitation. So when a strange package with your favourite perfume (that was sold out everywhere) gets delivered to your doorstep, you know who the culprit behind it is.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is a sore loser. The amount of times you had to drag him away from the claw machine before he went berserk on it makes you laugh. Kieran and Luke tend to tease him about it — behind close doors that is. What ticks him off even more is when he uses his evol, just to fail his much bragged about attempt too. Whenever the two of you visit the arcade you prefer staying away from any pay to win games, yet you cannot deny how cute that proud look on his face is whenever he manages to get you the plushie you desired.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS' favourite places to kiss you are your lower back, your inner thighs and your pulse points, though he prefers leaving bite marks rather than soft kisses.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS loves to mark you up. He couldn't care less about making it obvious. If he could, he'd paint your whole neck full of purple lovebites. Due to his habit, there have been way too many times where you ran out of foundation to cover them. Good thing he's rich, because he always buys you a new one (when you beg him. He prefers leaving you foundationless so you cannot cover them up.)

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is a switch. While he enjoys being the one in control, watching you squirm under him as you try your best to get used to his length, something about you taking the lead turns him on like crazy. The way your fingers graze over his skin as you tease him, pressing featherlight kisses all over his body, it turns his brain into mush.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS is very much into bondage, breath play / choking, risky situation (public / semi public sex), marking, etc. His favourite positions are reverse cowgirl (especially in front of a mirror or any reflecting surface where you can see your pretty expression), and doggy style (allowing him to do as he pleases with you)

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS gets pissed off easily when it comes to you. He absolutely despises you staying away for too long, not even mentioning you'll be home later as usual. While he doesn't like to admit it, the fear of losing you gnaws at him. Most of your arguments with Sylus have to do with your stupidity and knack for getting yourself into trouble.

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀SYLUS usually turns to silent treatment when he's had enough. Even though you two rarely get into arguments, whenever you do he becomes silent. He doesn't like opening up, considering emotional moments like this nothing but a hassle, a weakness that should never be exposed. The more time passes, the more he is willing to open up, but for him to talk it out with you instead of locking himself in his room and staying there until he feels better will take a whole lot longer than the mere babysteps you managed to make so far.

[chelseeebe]

there’s a honey

title based on there’s a honey - pale waves

i would give you my body but am i sure that you want me?

the one where eddie’s probably in love with you and yet you can’t even be seen in public with him.

kinda really angsty and sad i’m sorry

18+. mdni. smut. r is kinda very mean to poor eds here, maybe there’s a ltitle redemption/hope at the end.. who knows. modern au i guess.

eddie’s not supposed to be doing this, your number had been deleted and he knows he should’ve just let it ring out.

but he’d recognised those last three digits and hadn’t be able to help himself. at least this time he’d let it ring out a couple of times before picking up.

and now here he was, hand fisting your shirt, pulling it tight around your waist as he slams his hips against your doughy ass, the bed frame matching his pace as it slams against the wall.

he felt terrible.

chrissy was probably somewhere across campus waiting for him to text back while he was here, balls deep in the girl he’d sworn off last week.

they weren’t together, he’s not even sure if they’re talking but he knew he at least liked her. thought she was cute and not mean to him, but truthfully, she’s not you. she’s never going to be you.

and he’s not stupid enough to think that while you’re still in his life, they could ever be anything.

nobody else that he had ever had sex with had ever felt like this, not that it were a long list of people but still. he thinks that’s what keeps him coming crawling back every single time.

“oh my god,” you whine, arms collapsing underneath you as you fall into the mattress. moving back against him in unison, his palm coming to slap your ass, his handprint lingering.

he takes that as a sign to keep going, slamming into you with such ferocity that the sound echoes through the tiny room. the wooden bed frame close to smashing through the drywall.

“fuck,” he grunts, keeping his grip tight on your shirt, “you feel so fucking good,” unable to contain his babbles. breath becoming laboured as you squeeze around him.

your noises are muffled, face pressed into the blanket as you incoherently mumble what he thinks is his name. he can tell you’re close just by the way you’re breathing. he’s had years of experience, learnt every trick in the book to get you there before he was.

he lands another smack to your ass before pressing his chest to your back, lips sloppily connecting to the back of your neck, pressing you further into his rocking bed.

this new position allows him deeper, nudging himself against your sweet spot, just about able to keep his body hovering over yours.

“shit.. i’m close eds don’t stop,” you whine breathlessly but he already knows that. can feel himself teetering on the edge though it is absolutely necessary that you go first.

“i know.. i know,” he pants, sweaty body melting together as his pace falters, giving you everything he had for the last however many seconds.

your legs begin to shake from underneath him, fist balling his tousled bedsheets while his name falls from your lips like some kind of prayer. eddie will never tire of hearing you whine and cry his name nor the way you clench around him, turning to mush right before his eyes.

it’s the only time you’re ever soft, malleable even.

“that’s it,” he soothes, open mouth pressed to your clammy skin, hand finding your hand and resting his palm on your white knuckles as he topples over.

“fuck.. oh fuck,” he pants, slamming into your quivering cunt, painting your walls with his load, his forehead falling to the skin between your shoulder blades, head spinning a hundred miles an hour.

his arms let out, collapsing on top of you, breathing into the crook of your neck as he regains any sort of semblance of control. he eventually rolls off, outstretched on the tiny slither of bed as you come to.

“jesus,” he weeps, pulling his boxers back up around his waist, the elastic dealing a harsh snap to his skin.

you don’t honour his words with a reply, turning to lean back against the pillow, readjusting your t-shirt. you’d be off soon, he can sense it. not so long ago, you’d maybe stay the night but now it was out of the question.

eddie misses it dearly, maybe it was his fucked up way of playing make-believe for a little while but he missed it nonetheless.

“you going to tina’s party?” he asks from the pillow, eyes narrowed as you shift around.

“yeah i think so,” you shrug, readjusting your bra straps. you’re itching to leave, christ, you won’t even entertain him with a little pillow talk now.

“who’re you going with?”

you sigh, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, not willing to entertain this conversation, “i’m not sure yet,” grabbing your discarded clothes with a haste.

“why don’t we just go together?” he asks, knowing that it’ll probably push you over the edge. he can’t help himself, has never been able to understand why you’re so evasive about your relationship.

“oh my god eddie,” you frown before slipping into the connected bathroom, eddie jumps up from the bed, he’s not gonna let you run away from him again.

“oh so you are still doing this?” eddie asks, following you into the bathroom. he stands in the doorway, watching as you comb your fingers through your hair.

“doing what?”

“pretending that you don’t want me,” he pokes his finger into his temple, “playing your weird fucking game that nobody else understands,” he should stop there, but he doesn’t, “you know, nobody cares if you fuck the freak, we’re in college now, right? you’re the only one that gives a shit,” it’s truly cathartic to get it all out but he knows he’s going to regret it.

“what?” you mutter, speechless. confused why he’d just unloaded all of this onto you seemingly out of nowhere. spinning on your heel to face him, still half-dressed and disheveled.

“you heard me. and you know what? maybe i understood why you didn’t want anyone to know in high school but we’re adults now, you can’t pretend that you’re still worried about people finding out,” the scowl deep-set and unbudging on his lips.

“well i don’t want you eddie,” your face turning sour, jabbing your finger into his chest. “maybe you’ve deluded yourself into thinking that this- the sex, means more than it does, but it doesn’t,” you’re angry now, he’s got you riled up, exactly how he wanted, “i don’t care if you’re a nerd or you play board games or whatever the fuck it is that you do, i just don’t want anyone to know that i’m fucking you.”

your words are bitter, sharp even. slicing through his chest with harsh force. it’s not true, he knows that much. it’s no secret that you do care about that shit, you’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.

he just can’t understand why you still think anybody else cares. everybody’s too busy to give a shit about outdated cliques and who’s fucking who. it’s your worst-kept secret anyway, by the end of the night you were always hanging off of his arm or pulling him out of whichever bar you’d both coincidentally fallen into.

“you’re a liar,” eddie bites, levelling his eyes to yours, “even you don’t believe that,” he steps closer, brows knitted together as you rage on.

“fuck you,” you spit, deciding to do something he could’ve never expected. smashing your lips to his, it’s a short, passionate kiss, your fingers twisting into his shirt before he pushes you off.

“you’re fucked in the head,” he utters, voice full of sorrow. he pities you, truly. because he knows that if you’d just shake whatever weird self-doubt you still carried, that the two of you could be good together.

you push past him, pulling your jeans on as you grab the rest of your belongings. you’ve done this before, plenty of times. stormed out of here because eddie had asked you a question you didn’t like, only to call him up next weekend begging for his attention.

and he gave it, time and time again.

at your mercy, completely.

it’s the only way he’d known, not enough self-respect to end it completely. and even now, when it feels different, permanent somehow, he knows you’ll be back.

“don’t call me again,” eddie calls out, still lingering in the doorway, “i mean it, delete my number, block me, whatever. just don’t fucking come back,” his arms folded over his chest, like he meant it this time.

“oh i won’t, don’t worry,” turning to face him one last time, eyes full of spite before you disappear into the hallway, not for the last time.

-

unbelievably, the two of you had gone weeks of no-contact.

not even a drunken text to lure him over. nothing. nada. zilch.

eddie had taken that as a sign and asked chrissy if she wanted to go to the party together, at least this time he hadn’t been met with slamming doors and a screaming match.

she’d helped him do his makeup, dotted fake blood around his mouth and made them take a picture for her instagram, an incredibly foreign experience to what he’d ever had with you.

you’d taken selfies before, stupid ones that never saw the light of day. lounging in bed with a joint hanging out of your lips, refusing to ever send them to him incase he did something unthinkable. like post them or dare show anyone.

he shakes his head as if to rid his brain of the memory, trying to zone in on whatever bullshit chrissy’s friend heather was droning on about. he can’t focus, not when he knows you’re here.

see, it’s different when you’re apart. he can compartmentalise you, all of your memories, bury you in the back of his brain and enjoy the time he had with chrissy. it’s like you’ve infected him, weaving your web throughout his mind.

eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, pulling him out of the hole he’d burrowed himself into.

those familiar three digits flash across the screen.

bathroom 5 mins

he hasn’t even seen you yet, not that he had been keeping an eye out (he had). he shifts over from where he and chrissy sat squished on the couch, too engrossed in the conversation to have seen his phone.

“i’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he smiles, guilt running through his veins, “get me another beer?” using that as an excuse to not do anything stupid.

though he knows himself, knows you too and most certainly knows that won’t happen.

“okay,” she grins, none the wiser, making him feel so much worse. her halloween costume was completely different to anything you’d ever worn, opting for a cute little rabbit as opposed to the ridiculously sexy getup you usually had on.

he wonders what you’ve chosen for this year, what low-cut, revealing outfit will have him on his knees, regretting his decisions this time around.

there are hoards of people everywhere, crowding the hall as he tries to shuffle through, not even bothering to knock as he reaches the bathroom.

he slips inside, quickly locking the door behind him as you sit perched against the sink. he was right. you’re in some tiny red dress, horns adorning your head. it’s fitting, really.

“so you didn’t block me,” you state, smug as shit as you lean against the white porcelain.

eddie just rolls his eyes, “is that all you wanted to say?” his hand already clamped around the door handle. it’s an empty threat, he’s not going without a fight, or a kiss, but probably both.

you bite down onto your bottom lip, the red lipstick already slightly smudged, “i missed you,” squeezing the words out, as if they physically hurt to verbalise.

“me? or my dick?”

“can’t it be both?” you smirk, pushing yourself from the sink to near him.

“not if you’re lying about the first one,” keeping his head stood tall, not letting his gaze wander, no matter how much he wanted to peer down your dress.

“i’m not,” placing your hand on his chest, looking at his lips rather than his eyes, “you didn’t miss me?”

you’re so.. so terrible. for him. as a person. whichever.

because he knows that you know he can’t resist. all you have to do is bat your eyelashes and speak softly to him and he’s right back at your feet. eddie wants to be stronger this time. to turn around and march out of here with his dignity still in tact.

but then your hand creeps lower, fingernails dragging down his unbuttoned shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake and he knows he’s fallen for it again.

“of course i did,” he whispers, barely audible because even he doesn’t want to hear it.

“who’s that girl you’re with?” you question, fingers lingering at his belt buckle, gaze flickering between his eyes and his parched lips.

“chrissy,” he feels like a dick for even speaking her name right now.

“she’s cute. she your girlfriend now?” teasing him, drawing a line down to his crotch your finger.

his breath hitches in his throat, wetting his lips, “no.. she’s- uh,” stuttering when your palm meets his dick, already rising in his pants.

“she’s what?” grinning devilishly, hah.

“she’s waiting for me,” he chokes out, just about remembering that he’d asked her for another beer.

“why don’t you run along back to her then?” knowing full well that he wouldn’t. couldn’t even.

the words tangle in his throat, coming out in a squeak, “tell me- tell me that this is just sex and i will,” finding a spurt of courage from somewhere deep within.

you don’t reply, keeping a firm hand on his shifting jeans, “eddie,” more as a warning than anything else.

“or tell me you want me,” swallowing the lump lodged in his throat, “and i’ll stay,” he’s pathetic, begging for an inch of your love, just a little of your heart.

“i can’t.. i can’t be who you want me to be,” you choke, dropping your palm from his zipper, hanging limp as you back away.

“why?” reeking of desperation, pitying himself more than you ever could, “i don’t.. i don’t understand,” the party bounces on outside and eddie can’t think of anything worse than having to go back out there with teary eyes and a tent in his jeans.

you turn away from him, keeping your palms pressed to the porcelain as you stare into the basin, “why don’t you just leave? i’m not going to have this conversation with you again,” point blank refusing to even look at him anymore.

eddie scoffs, swallowing his despair to make one last statement, “you’ve ruined my life,” choking back his cry before swinging the door open, elbowing his way through the crowd.

he pushes past drunk assholes until he reaches the front door, storming out onto the sidewalk, gasping as the fresh air hits his nose. all he wants is to scream, or puke or maybe both. he can feel the eyes of concerned partygoers as he stumbles out onto the street.

everything sounds weird, metallic like ringing through his ears until a familiar voice calls out from the doorway.

“eddie?”

[cheollipop]

okay but imagine after pussydrunk woosanhwa passed you around for sloppy seconds and thirds, you’re filled up to the brim with their cum so ofc woosan slurp it out of you and share it with you and hwa hehe <333

I'm gonna fight you. WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM- I barely survived this one your honour.

this kinda counts as a part one

nsfw under cut—minors dni

wooyoung went first, then san, before passing you over to seonghwa—all heavy limbs and sweat-covered skin. ever the gentleman, he kissed away your tears and held you close until the spasms shaking your body spaced out.

but then he was pushing his cock inside you, his lips parted in concentration as he watched spurts of cum leak out of your used cunt every time he sheathed himself inside you. your senses turned to mush, and you were left a drooling mess under the three men, unable to discern whose lips latched onto your nipple and whose fingers tweaked your clit. all you could feel was seonghwa's hard length pounding you with vigour, moving your body up on the bed with every rough thrust.

"our baby's not gonna walk tomorrow, is she?" wooyoung whispered against your jaw, his fingers tapping over your clit before going back to rubbing it back and forth.

san pulled off your nipple with a pop, kissing up you chest to nibble on your collarbone. "how does it feel, sweet girl? is seonghwa fucking you good?" he mumbled over your skin, pressing his palm down on your lower belly, groaning at the slight bulge.

"s-so good—hnngh!" Your back arched off the bed, hands flailing around to grab hold of Seonghwa's forearms. "please, hwa-"

"our dirty girl," seonghwa panted, his cock twitching between your clenching walls as he neared his release. "getting two loads fucked into her and still asking for more." seonghwa came without warning, his whole body shuddering while he emptied inside you and added to the mess painting your insides. "have some more, cumslut," he pulled out, lowering his head to watch a stream of cum leak out of your clenching hole, pursing his lips and spitting over your clit.

just as you were about to complain about not finishing, san was pushing seonghwa away and flipping you over, lifting your hips and sliding his hard length through your soiled folds. "can I have you once more, jagi?"

your hips jerked when his cockhead brushed over your swollen clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. "s-san-"

"you can take it, right? my good girl," he planted a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades, his cockhead prodding at your entrance. "what do you say? I'll breed you full of cum, have you leaking for days."

you nodded frantically at his words, pushing your hips back until his cock slipped inside you. he straightened up, groaning deeply as pleasure soared through his body. he peeked at your face, smiling lopsidedly at your fucked-out expression, drool pooling on the sheets under your head. San knew he wasn't going to last, and that the two men were going to tease him for it later, but the feeling of your cunt pulsing violently around him was all-consuming, and any thought not about you faded into nothing. he dug his knees into the mattress and held onto your hips, fucking into you with a desperate need and reveling in the squelch of the cum being pumped into you. with san's cockhead pressing into your g-spot, you quickly came undone, your thighs vibrating forcefully and your walls clamping down on his cock. the familiar warmth of his seed seeped through your abdomen, his heavy breaths blowing over your back where he leaned over you. he rolled his hips into your used cunt, milking himself of every last drop before pulling out.

falling sideways, you managed three deep breaths before you were being rolled onto your back, your legs spread wide open and a tongue licking up your slit. you jerked when it brushed over you clit, a whispered apology over your skin. wooyoung buried his head between your legs, slurping at your swollen enterance as it clenched and unclenched uselessly. he pulled away, grabbing san by the back of the neck and towering over him, angling his head upwards and using his other hand to pry his lips open with two fingers. rolling his tongue out, you watched as a blend of cum and his spit dribbled into san's open mouth.

"don't swallow," wooyoung instructed, licking the residue off his lips and signaling towards seonghwa—slumped against the bedhead, watching the two men silently interact.

wooyoung’s mouth was back on your pussy, panting like a dog over your leaking hole as he sucked out the last of their cum from inside you. your hips spasmed at the overstimulation, but your eyes were fixed on the two men beside you—san, with his legs thrown over seonghwa's thighs and his tongue down his throat, a line of cum streaming down seonghwa's chin while their teeth crashed against each other. seongwha's hand kneaded the younger man's ass, drawing him closer by the back of the neck to lick over the roof of his mouth, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed down the bitter liquid.

wooyoung's mouth pressed against yours, drawing your attention back to him. you tasted a blend of yourself and everyone else on his tongue, and he spat the wad of cum in his mouth down your throat. with a final peck to your lips, he pulled away and swiped his thumb over your bottom, wiping off the leftover translucent mixture and feeding it to you.

the two men beside you had already separated by the time you looked over at them again, now holding damp towels and water bottles, ready to pamper you for the rest of the night. cleaned up and trapped between the three of them, they showered you with kisses and praise until you drifted off into pleasant dream.

[stormisblooming]

🎨 at last… my final riddle..

Can I request a muichiro x father figure! reader where the father is washing his hair for the first time… scrub scrub scrub

WAAAAAAAAAAAAA WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Hey Dolly! I am going To kill you with a Bat! /a

Muichiro and a father figure; washing his hair for the first time!

contains; brief implications of Mui dissociating (it's one line), reader has a good knowledge of hair care, your honour they are found family

word count; 514

Mui… oh my baby boy Mui… My son whom I adore so

as a Hashira, Muichiro’s mind is often far too preoccupied to think too hard about self care, when he’s not spaced out of course.

however, no one grows their hair out that long without learning to take care of it at some point! Giyuu and Mitsuru have given him the hair care shakedown in the past and as a result his hair is for the post part fine — clean, but not particularly shiny or silky.

I think he has pretty thick hair too, so oftentimes washing it can feel like a bit of a chore…

is he going to cut it though? no, he actually quite likes his hair. it helps to have something to fiddle with when he’s looking in the mirror to remind him that the boy looking back at him is himself.

so when you, a fellow Hashira he’s found himself in a strange familial situation with, offer to wash his hair? he stares for a second in shock, then quite readily agrees.

(he gets excited to spend time together like he does with Tanjiro 🥺)

since joining the corps, he’s been the only one washing his hair — his mother always seemed to know what to do and she enjoyed doing it, so he would always just sit back and relax while she washed his hair… and he can’t help but think back to that time when the memories come back to him in a wave.

he sits in the bath almost limp as you gently rub his scalp and run the shampoo through his long hair, sat on a stool behind him with everything you need on the floor by your feet. it feels more like you’re talking at him than to him, but that’s only because he’s just so relaxed that he can’t think of much in the way of a response other than an occasional “mm…”

if his skull wasn’t in the way, he’d think you and your magic hands had turned his brain to mush.

once he’s out of the bath, you help him dry his hair and joke that you could use him as a mop with how long it was. he doesn’t say anything, but you do see a tiny smile in the mirror.

then, just before bed, you braid his hair to keep it safe while he sleeps and give him a cuddle before you leave to get ready for bed yourself. he hasn’t said much all evening, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t complain about doing this again.

Muichiro basically passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. the second you’re out the door, bang.

the next day, he notices just how many people compliment his hair and how nice it looks, how shiny it is. when he sees you again, he doesn’t mention it, but he does go to you for hair care advice from then on out — if you offer to wash his hair for him again when he does, he counts that as an absolute win!

please do not repost

[gallaghersgal]

i am here for some kev since i got the honour of being shipped with him hehe

mutual pining trope + ❛ you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me. ❜

and maybe cus i got to be shipped w him... plus size reader????

ilysm pookie bear can't wait to read this <3 -🐁

kev fucks plus size girls,, say it a lil louder for the ppl in the back nsfw 18+. plus size!reader, gn but afab, some slapping (thigh), oral, rough sex, lots of praise & dirty talk, mentions of self conscious reader

mutual pining + "you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me." from these fanfic tropes and these smut prompts. part of my 1,500 follower celebration!

after a particularly hard day in terms of self confidence you found yourself in the apartment above the alibi room, well past last call. the bar had been closed for an hour now, and consequently that was the same amount of time kev has spent worshipping your body. you're sent careening into a second orgasm on his tongue, thighs squeezing his head while he pulls away slightly to mumble, "fuckin' squeeze me, yeah, tha's it."

you whimper, fingers threading in his hair and tugging until he draws away from your sensitive core. wet lips trail kisses over the softness of your stomach and up to your chest, closing around a nipple and pulling a needy whine from you. "need you inside, please," you manage, nails leaving angry red marks down his back as he grinds his cock through your folds.

"mmm, beautiful," he groans, lining himself up with your entrance. he starts to slide the tip in but stops when he notices your arms reaching to cover your stomach, feeling like too much of yourself is on display. one large hand gathers both of your wrists, lifting them above your head as he growls, "cut that out, let me see you. wanna watch how you move when i fuck you, m'kay?"

you avoid his eyes, your cheeks and neck flushing under the intensity of his gaze. he lets go of your wrists to take your chin between his fingers, drawing your visage up to meet him. "y'can use your hands, as long as y're not covering' y'self up, got it?"

"y-yeah, okay," you whimper, nodding weakly. you've wanted this forever now, so you're not going to risk fucking it up. you throw one arm around kevin's shoulders, pressing your hips up until he finally sinks into you fully. the moan that escapes you is downright pornographic, leaving the man above you with a smirk on his lips. "ffuuuuck," you drawl as he starts to fuck you rough.

"you're so good for me, so fucking good around me, fucking made for me, aren't you?" he grunts between hard thrusts. his hazel eyes are locked in on the way your tits bounce in response to his rough motions. his lips come to your ear as one hand grabs your ankle to push it up by your chest. "love that i can fuck you rough, know you won't break. y'can take it, huh? been waitin' so long to have you like this. so beautiful," he whispers between nips at the space below your ear. "fuckin' say it. say y're beautiful, that y're made f'me."

all you can do is whine, too lost in the rhythmic motion of his cock hitting so fucking deep inside you. little 'ah, ah, ah' noises spill from your lips, fingers reaching out to push back the hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat. suddenly his hips still, buried to the hilt, and he lands a sharp slap to the underside of your thigh. "i said say it," he growls, and you don't need to be told twice.

"i-i'm beautiful. i was made for you," you choke out. at your words he starts moving again, lips mushing to yours in a sloppy kiss.

"yeah you were," he mumbles against your mouth. "pussy's all mine, gonna ruin it for anyone else. gonna ruin you."

[wonderlandwalker]

To Love or To Lose| Finnick Odair X Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wishes he could just simply make up his mind about you, but in reality he was in a constant rotation of emotions. He knows it could never be, but that doesn't mean it's easy to let go.

Content Warnings/Tags: Slight fluff but mostly angst, look I tried writing fluff but it's simply impossible, this is once again not proofread, no use of y/n, no character descriptions.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: Ask and you shall receive. Still recovering from the writing mush my thesis put me in but slowly trying to get back to it, hope this is good. Let me know if you guys have any requests! (Once again divider by @saradika-graphics who was sent to tumblr by the damn gods themselves)

He wanted to hate you, his life would be so much easier if he could just hate you. And every once in a while, he could convince himself that he did, that when you looked at him with that sparkle in your eyes the feeling in his stomach was disgust and not butterflies, that when he saw you all dressed up at a party the haze clouding his mind was annoyance instead of jealousy, but as soon as he would actually talk to you the masquerade fell down quicker than he cared for, and he would have to confront it time and time again.

If he was honest with himself he knew what this feeling was, he knew the fact he wanted to crumble to his knees and ravage you until the melody of you moaning his name graced his ears wasn't contempt, but actually facing reality was much harder than upholding the illusion. Because you were everything he stood against, you were everything he had devoted his life to destroy, you were part of the capitol. And yet he found himself wanting to devote himself to you, found himself desperate for your attention.

He fought the battle with himself for so long, but every time you had snuck away from a party to your apartment you would become so gentle, you would reassure him and care for him and it would make him question everything he thought he knew, because capital citizens weren't good people, he knew that, so why were you?

And tonight had been different, he had dreaded the event since he first heard of it, and tried everything he could to get out of it, but President Snow wasn't one to easily budge. It was a night in honour of something he could not remember, something he didn't care to remember either way. His stylist had dressed him up less provocatively than usual, a three-piece suit adorning his frame letting him know it was at least a high-profile occasion, therefore letting him know you would be here.  He was scanning the crowds of people he so desperately wanted to destroy, desperately seeking for you among them. And the moment he saw you he remembered why he put himself through all this turmoil, why he couldn't simply stay away. The blue dress you were wearing put the oceans at home to shame for daring to think they were beautiful, it made him wonder if the skies above knew they were being humbled by you tonight, and once again he couldn't help but walk over to you the second he caught someone else noticing the same thing. And he knew, logically he knew that it was his own doing, that if only he could get over himself and tell you the intricate rambles of his mind he would have no need to feel threatened. Because that's what this feeling was slowly creeping its way up to the surface, the threat of someone else realizing what he was taking so long to come to terms with, and he had no one but himself to blame.

And as he woke up the next morning he forced himself to forget everything he learned once more, just as he did every time he spent the night with you, because this sense of peace was nothing but a well-constructed time bomb. 

The way you would so perfectly fit into his arms as he lay beside you, as if someone had found the mould of his body and crafted you to complement it made him melt every single time. The soft tilt of your voice as you invited him in without fail made him wonder if perhaps it was possible because you did not ask what others did, you did not demand more than he was willing to freely offer, the only thing you wanted was to be with him. And maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t sure how to process the concept, but maybe he was still too scared to even try. 

And as he attentively removed your soft skin from his and got up to get dressed he knew he was creating his own destruction, that he was reconfirming his own fate. And if he truly let himself he knew he would love you, he knew he would love you until the world was cruel enough to rip you apart, but he also knew that he would convince you to join the cause without even meaning to. Because if loving you was what he would do, he wouldn’t hold back, he would share every part of himself with you, including the one that would lead to destruction. You were smart, you were smart enough to survive on your own in a world that was out to get you, bright enough to climb to the top and remain there, you were respected enough that he knew Coin would utilise it, she would be foolish not to. And no one would make it out of the war unscathed, but he wasn't about to contribute to the harm of it, not willing to risk it.

So stuck with the alternative it was, stuck pondering over the what ifs and the distant possibilities, wondering if he would be able to remember the feeling of your lips against his until the moment he died, wishing to forever recall your sweet whispers. He would come back to it as long as he could, as long as he could stand the guilt of exposing you to the exact same thing he would spend the rest of his life recovering from

They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but what about the scenarios that run rampant in his head as he looks back at you, the internal screaming of doubt as he closes the door behind him to return home, careful not to wake you as the lock clicked in place, because if he knew he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eyes if he had to see yours shimmer back at him. He would have to love without ever being able to lose, because you would always be in the back of his mind, receding with an infatuation that would be his undoing one of these days.

[phlurrii]

Really hoping I am posting this at the right spot…

Hey there, loving your work, you got me to jump into the theory wagon out of sheer suspense. Here is my try at seeing what will stick to this massive theoryboard of mysteries~

Missingo went from a creature stuck to Meau's shadow to having a body/vessel powerfull enough to kill Palkia.

Which braught me to what vessel could be powerful enough to do so? Meau's first cub died somehow (stillborn? Necktube fatality?) Meau designed Bucket after the Necktube drama to remove the necktube. But a cub that predates or happened to die during that drama should still have the old blueprints of being bigger and having a necktube. Traits Noe physically holds. Noe being a prototype non-ancient mew baby could explain why he and Meau could exist at the same time.

But that leaves an additional questionmark on why their lifeforce are linked.

Which is where I bumped into theory two (the most probable one I think) in which Meau was so done with living that she tried to birth an ancient mew. But if the birth went wrong and the ancient cub died there could have been a glitch. The world must have one ancient mew. If Meau passed her lifeforce to the cub yet the cub still died both should technically be dead. But that goes against the laws of the world. There needed to be something to fix/ballance that glitch. Missingo could be the way the world tried to fix that mess. Missingo might have inhabited the dead cub and taken on a weird alive status of not quite living. And whatever ballance his manifestation created could have allowed Meau to wake up (a lot more weakened than an ancient mew should be but alive nonetheless)

Both are merged to the same lifeforce and function or count as a placeholder for one ancient mew.

Meau + Noe = one ancient mew. Cause of problem? = Lifeforce transference issue.

Why would the world chose Noe over deca? Probably becouse Noe was already present. Being at the right time at the right place. Or technically wrong time since he was way too early…

Basically the ingredients of stopping the whole world from imploding where already in the bowl so the world just mashed them all together into a weird yet functioning chimerical mush. What a way to recycle your resources.

Deca born all late because he became extra. When could this have happened? Why was it the domain of space that had to die? When and why did Noe and Giratina go rebel? My brain does not compute numbers very well. Not touching anything timerelated with a ten foot pole.

Anyways congratulations Phlurri, you got me to use the comment function on this site for the first time. Got me typing out a whole tower of text from the get go, have a good day~

First, let me say I am HONOURED to be the cause for your first even commenting, as a lurker myself I feel that XD

Second, 100% correct place, I LOVE these asks, but they definitely make me go dormant for a day or two in order to proceed and write my response carefully ehe

Anywho, ONTO THE THEORY!!!

To start off, Meau’s first cub did not die, Bucket is Meau’s first mew child. Bucket is currently comatose in a bubble in the Tree of Life. So I know that throws a wrench in the theory, but dw you have a lot of foundational things correct; just the bridging between points isn’t X3

As for the necktube stuff, Meau did create bucket without many of her own traits/characteristics due to her own experiences. She wanted to remove those issues from afflicting her child!

However, Meau specifically avoided EVER having a child until she felt she was mentally capable of raising one. Hence why she never had one in the nearly 4.5 billion years she’s been alive. Adopting? Sure, but raising a functionally immortal mew? Definitely not ready…. Given she was struggling a lot mentally with… things. So bringing a child into that mix was something she actively refused to do until those issues were no longer severely afflicting her. So she never attempted to have a cub, let alone an ancient cub, to remove herself from the picture.

But, I am genuinely impressed beacuse again, your foundations for things… are mostly correct, which makes me very excited to know someone can go through the comic and asks and get EXACTLY that,,, the foundations correct,,, meaning the rules and whatnot I attempted to put in place has indeed made it though in time for the Noe arc >W<

Noe indeed did not have a vessel and COULD not have one until a certain criteria was meant. Meau did assist in that criteria being meant, however his appearance was early and not how it was suppose to occur. It was a glitch, just like Noe is himself. The way he obtained a vessel… you’re awfully close, but it does not involve dead children I want to be clear!! Regardless, it’s scary and exciting at the same time at how close you are, I think one person (you know who you are.) may figure it out with the publication of this, but until then… I cannot comment further.

The way he obtained a vessel and comes into the world connects into how and why him and Meau share their life force. Though I will say, Missingno. cause the split, not Meau.

Also for the rest of time stuff you are too scared to touch, don’t worry, I spent 3 weeks figuring out how all it would work and then another 2 making. Digestible and simplifying XD

It will make sense, I have made SURE of it. As well as it will be satisfying most importantly. Very excited to be looser lipped about this all with how close it is ehe,,

Anywho, ty for your tower of words I quite enjoyed them and well DONE on the foundations, again that’s huge. Your skeleton is very close, the connecting tissues though would be hard to guess for anyone X3

[totallysora]

Newsies (1992)

Ok so these are some things from 92sies! Icl I never actually had time to rewatch it so this is all from memory 😔 There is deffo more and at some point I will actually rewatch it and add to it, but this is all I have for now!

Crutchy is a cutie 

Oscar mocking blink

For a group of kids who can’t actually sing they actually sound rlly good when they’re singning together 😭

Crutchy being stressed out at the start of carrying the banner

CRUTCHY OK I LOVED HIM SM 😕 Him messing with the newspapers 😭

“Nobody told the horse >:(” - Racetrack Higgins 1899

SANTA FE 🥰 For someone who clearly can’t sing HE DIDNT ACTUALLY DO A BAD JOB OK 😭

SPOT 🥰🥰 

“Never fear Brooklyn’s here” - Spot Conlon 1899 

Race and the others all asking synder to donate 😭 AND HIM ACTUALLY DOING IT 💀

Kloppmann 😻 Him protecting Jack 😭 they totally butchered his roll in the bway show but honestly I see why lmao

MEDDAAA‼️ SHE’S SO PRETTY 😕

Icl I don’t hate high times hard times I thought it was kinda fun

Everyone holding spot back ☹️ honestly I would’ve just let him beat his ass

THE FACT THAT SPOT ACTUALLY HAD SCREEN TIME 😻

Ok I could say this about both the bway show and the movie but in king of new york the fact that they’re all asking for rlly simple things 😕

SARAH JACOBS 🥰 SHE WAS SO PRETTY 

THE FACT THAT SHE BASICALLY BEAT THE MORRIS’ ASS

Also Denton!! Don’t get me wrong I absolutely adore Katherine but I kinda like denton tbh

THE CHOREOGRAPHY WASNT EVEN THAT BAD ICL 

“Go back to Brooklyn 😡” - A random newsies 1899 (to spot at the end lmao)

LES MF JACOBS ☹️ HE WAS SUCH A CUTIE 😭 (and he actually did look 7 so 💀) 

The delanceys were just,,,ridiculous 😭

Jack and David r somehow still gay in the movie like what 😭

SPRACE 🥰 THEY ACTUALLY INTERACT IN THE MOVIE 😻

THE WAY SPOT NODS AT RACE DURING KING OF NEW YORK WHEN HE SAYS “AINT I PRETTY”

Do you think they know how much people ship them 😭❓

Ok but spot’s eyes were actually so pretty??

“I say, that what you say, it what I say” - Spot Conlon 1899

“On the grounds of Brooklyn your honour” - Spot Conlon 1899

Can you tell I love spot

Mush bullying Jack at the start 😭

PATRICKS MOTHER 😻‼️ HER VOICE IS JUST SO UGH I LOVE IT

Crutchys laugh

“Extra extra Joe, read all about it” - Jack Kelly 1899

“Headlines don’t sell papes, newsies sell papes” - David Jacobs 1899

This wasn’t in the movie but blood drips heavily on newsies square is iconic

Ok this also wasn’t in the movie but the bloopers of crutchy mentioning the delanceys when they’re first introduced r so funny 💀

The fact Morris calls Weisel ‘uncle weas’ 😭 (I THINK DON’T QUOTE ME ON THIS 😔)

Jack on a horse,,,that’s it 😭 IT WAS SO SILLY LMAO

The whole cowboy thing with Jack is also a lil silly

Ok but Jack scabbing in this was like,,sm better done?? Don’t get me wrong I love the whole sellout thing in newsies live but cmon 

Also the fact that JACK ACTUALLY GOES TO THE REFUGE ‼️‼️

The whole spinning on the lights/fans thing in King of new york (AND HOW THEY DID IT IN UKSIES 🥰)

The way Race says “It takes and orphan with a studdah”

THE WORLD WILL KNOW‼️‼️

Once again this is from memory of watching it at Christmas so sorry if some of this is wrong 😭 If I think of anything else I’ll add it! (Also this was requested by @artemis-lynn [praying this actually tags u 🙏] sorry it took so long!)

[futuristicpinklemur]

I just want to take q!phil and squeeze him. Because this man, this man, oooooh. He is finally starting to let loose in same way he had done in the past with techno. He is finally enjoying himself, the thrill of death and blood has finally gotten to him - a smidgen at least. And it feels me with glee for what’s to come as he continues to hide behind the mask of “Oh, but we have honour.”.

Oh, q!Phil… keep telling yourself that. Because in the end the blood on one’s hands tend to soak through the skin and bones. The ecstasy that bloodshed brings is one hell of a drug and once you get a taste of it (especially if you have been hooked on it before)….

We shall all see how your mask of morality holds up to that.

(I’m writing this at 2am so it’s mostly incoherent thoughts mushed together lol)

[ohnoitstbskyen]

what;s your thoughts on ionia if you have any? from a design perspective? I personally feel like ionia lacks design coherency, and kind of forces a bunch of unrelated design elements into what is suppose to be a single nation.

I feel pretty mixed. The concept art and conceptual ideas behind Ionia's aesthetics are genuinely beautiful - if you check the Universe page for the art, you'll find some visual absolute bangers.

One of the major ideas of Ionia is the idea that people live in symbiotic harmony with nature by way of magic and spirit magic, and one of the very clever ways this is reflected is that Ionian buildings are not built by felling trees, but by asking trees to arrange themselves into structures that buildings can be built around, in return for the occupants nourishing and honouring the tree that shelters them, which is a super cool idea and genuinely comes across in a lot of the region's concept art:

And the artists at Riot explored some genuinely incredibly creative visual ideas for the aesthetics of the region that draw from various fantasy aesthetics without feeling like it's merely regurgitating lesser imitations of Chinese, Korean or Japanese fantasy. Like, it does at least try to imagine and synthesize something novel out of its influences, mixing stark rocky environments with impossibly vibrant nature colors to create the sense of a dreamlike, shifting landscape, something that makes sense in a region defined by a living environment animated by magic. Plants and rocks flow into one another and merge, rock formations sprout like trees, the boundaries between land and life blur.

Unfortunately, outside of the concept art, Ionia really is just treated as Magic Asia: The Region. China, Korea and Japan, with sometimes a bit of south and south-east Asia conglomerated in there, it's all just mushed together into one homogenate; and that rankles a bit in a game that devotes four entire regions to various flavors and time periods of Europe Shit.™

And that's where your complaint comes from, I think. Ionia is a big soup of pan-Asian fantasy tropes all packed into a single compressed region, where none of them really have enough room to define themselves, and it leads to a lot of incoherency. Wukong is drawn straight out of Wuxia, and he runs around alongside a Batteries Not Included minor Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle villain-looking cyber samurai in Master Yi, a samurai-ninja in Shen, a Korean kumiho in Ahri, a fantasy Yakuza in Sett and random spirit creatures like Treebeard On Weed Ivern and Disney Princess Bambi in Lillia. It's messy.

It could be genuinely brilliant, I think, if Riot committed more to inventing their own mythology and aesthetic here, rather than merely reproduce pop-culture tropes and archetypes, but we're 150 champions deep in this now and I don't think there's much chance they'll pivot at this point.