#i wrote a paper on this in college once it was one of my favorite assignments

[simonskitty]

Hii! Have you watched the movie Babygirl? It has something to do with Boss x Intern. It would totally be such a turn on if you wrote a Boss|Toji x Intern|Reader. Where an innocent intern smoothly flirts with her boss during an interview and it has his pants tightening. He has a family at home, such a dirty man to be getting turned on by this much younger intern. How this new intern would say the most naughtiest things but would act innocent about it. It was a dangerous game when it came to sneaking around and fucking like rabbits. It messed him up when she would start distancing herself from him. She could ruin his life in a second.. and he loved it. He loved being dominated by someone so much younger than him. 🥛

BTW, I loved your story on Toji x College Student. You’re my new favorite writer!! I hope I can request more soon ><

eeeek anon your such a sweetie !! i looked up the movie and now it’s in my watchlist hehe. request any time you like love ᡣ 𓈒⋅ ⩊ ⋅𓈒ྀིა ㅤ and sorry it took awhile, been dealing w/ mental issues lolz ㅤ

cw: mdni, cheating ୨୧

Toji was a perverse man—especially when it came down the way he treated his lower coworkers in the field. Bossing them around became accustomed when they signed they papers that made them under his control. Sure, he’d mess with the men—teasing and giving them a hard time. But, when it came down to the pretty ladies in skirts—boy did he have a time. He enjoyed acting being superior, being the controller in the relationships he had with his inferiors. He liked contorting their little limbs until they broke, running off from the job like scared little animals, wanting the sacred warmth of their mama bear :(.

So, when the last little lady ran off once again—record time this time around. Two weeks on the job. How pathetic. Toji knew he needed some fresh meat to work with—something tastier than the beef jerky he had put a wedding ring on a decade ago.

When you walked in, a young one, full of life—hopes and dreams presented like a bouquet of flowers resting tight in your palms—Toji knew he found himself a prime rib.

“You sure you’re up for the job?” He’s serious. Professional attire neatly ironed—the same suit he wore on his wedding day. Means just about nothing now. In a few years, once he kicks this job to the curb, it’ll be sat nicely on the racks of a thrift store, where it belongs. To be tried on by a group of silly teenagers, goofing off for fun.

Your head nods eagerly. Résumé sat in between the two of you on the conference table—waiting to be accepted. You enjoyed the praise.

“Yes, sir.” There’s a certain grin on your face. Toji likes it. Finds it endearing. Something his wife hasn’t had on her face in months—hell, even years. He doesn’t care enough to look back on the calendar. “What are your priorities?” It’s too sweet. Sweet enough to rot his teeth out.

“That depends what your qualifications are.” He leans forward, thick biceps resting kindly against the new wood. “I don’t just hire a woman because she has a pretty face ya know?”

“So that’s off my list then.” Your tone is kind, welcoming. Toji wants you to place your welcome mat on him. Step on him. He looks to your feet. Dressed in heels—professional. The kind of professional he’s acting. He’s preforming, you’re the nonfiction story.

“And you’re witty.” He’s commenting, and he observes. Toji would like to point out that your blouse is missing a button—but that would give away how he’s been focusing on your cleavage as if he was single. You beat him to it.

“And your shirt is unbuttoned.”

He looks down, suit jacket in perfect condition except for the button that had bursted from his pec size. His wife would call him lazy, unprofessional, would demean him and expect an answer for the mistake he didn’t even do on purpose.

He liked your reaction better. Walking over and bending down just the right amount so your eye to eye. Seriousness overtakes your expression. Toji likes you. Determined. Just to button up his dress shirt.

“Cologne?” Your head is tilted to the side. He knows your game. The little teasing that girls do to rile up a man. To appear innocent—doe like.

“Hm?”

“You are wearing cologne, yes?” The grin is back on your lips. It’s fake. It’s purposeful. It’s to get him on the leash that dogs are meant to walk on. “I recognize the scent.”

Brows are furrowed together in thought. His head titled the opposite of yours. “Fathers scent, I presume?” It’s stated as a statement, yet you answer.

“No. Last hook up.” Small giggles fill his ears. Making jokes during an interview. His dress pants tighten.

“What did you just say?” Face: Stoic. To his surprise, and much enjoyment, your bubbly act doesn’t lent up. All that’s left is a dumb look—you’re faking it. He’s not dumb. You can’t be dumb to be a boss. You can’t be dumb not to get caught cheating on your wife for the last three years. Sly recognizes the sly. Slick recognizes the stealthy.

“I’m very close. Surprised you can’t hear me.” Your eyes betrayed the innocent act that your lips told. Maybe you were both acting. Both in stage to perform for your imaginary audience. “Very nice suit by the way.” Smiling. Too wide.

Toji clears the lump left in his throat. Eyes in yours, sinking himself into the pools. “Thank you, miss.” His tone, different now. Lowering himself on the rank, on his prized pedestal that he had cheated his way up to. “Now let’s get back to the interview.” His hand attempted to adjust his tie—which felt tighter around the thick of his neck—yet again, you beat him to it.

Instead of loosening it, you tightened it. Toji sucked in a breath. Nervousness he felt in his gut? The same feeling he felt the first time he cheated on his wife. Dirty. That’s how he felt. Like he was committing a crime. In a sense he was. The vows he preached now just line of gibberish to him.

“The suit looks older. Get it from the thrift or something?” Your lips are quirked up, you can’t control it. You liked Toji Mr. Fushiguro.

He ignores your question. “How…how old are you, by chance?” He said the words. Like he was holding back a string of curse words that shouldn’t be spoken in the office. “On your…résumé?”

Toji doesn’t wait for an answer. He opens your file. 24. The number goes weighs heavy on his brain for a good while, calculating the age gap between the two of you.

“Sir?” Sweet voice ringing through his head like church bells. “Am I too young for you—I mean the job?” Your eyelashes bat at him. A groan makes its way through his chapped lips, he wets them with his tongue—the tongue that had seen many women’s pussies before yours.

One more can’t hurt? It’s not like anyone is gonna find out.

An almost primal look overtakes him. But your demeanor doesn’t falter. You let him have his fun. Chucking you over the conference table like you where the same weight as a stack of papers.

“Think you’re so fucking cute?” His words cut into your body like knifes, a sharp slap coming down hard on your fat ass. Toji’s eyes moving like googly eyes on his face, watching the skin ripple under his rough touch. “I bet you think you are sooo slick. Acting like a dumb, cheeky bitch. Riling me up.” The cold, office air hitting your bare ass like a slap in the face, Toji lifting up the skirt you bought a size too small, and panties being ripped apart like he was a professional in the sport.

“No, sir! I really didn’t mean any harm!” Lies. He knew better. This is what you wanted. For him to be a bastard to you. To treat you mean. To get under his skin until he broke—not the other way around. “I was—just trying to get the job!”

“Lying is ugly, sweetheart.” Another grunt, a slap to your cold ass cheek, warmed by the palm of his hand—kneading the soft surface. “Be a good girl and you’ll be my new intern, how ‘bout it?” No answer, bottom lip hugged tightly in your canines. Bad choice! Another harsh slap to your aching flesh.

“I expect an immediate response, bitch.” It’s a growl. Like an animal. The sound of his belt unbuckling and pants unzipping speeds your heart up in a delicious way.

And you do. Dick plummeting in your soaking wet walls like it’s your personal medicine. Dirty resolution to sick minded problems. Rutting your gut into the harsh edge of the table, squelching insides ringing throughout the room. Meaty thighs pressed against your own, sticky sweat clinging to your body and connecting your skin to his own.

Huge hands ram down on the table, venom dripping from the defined veins of his forearms. You wonder if the veins on his cock look the same. Sure feels like it.

Blissfully getting fucked, like your poor sopping pussy was begging for it the moment you stepped into the interview. Eyes blurry with tears—unable to make anything out.

Except for the silver band on his ring finger.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You were hired quickly after that. He couldn’t resist hiring a pretty little thing like you; who was able to milk him so nicely without doing a thing but batting your eyelashes at him. And at the moment it was great. You worked professionally under his rule without a second thought—allowing his hands to graze your ass in the break room—or allowing himself to private meetings with you during your lunch break. Enough so that he didn’t need anything for the woman waiting so loyal to him back home.

Until you began to distance yourself.

And Toji did not like that very much.

Though, his wife seemed oblivious to his actions at the work place—you were not as naive as your looks portrayed you to be. You saw the ring. You saw the little family photo that sat on his desk—collecting dust like an heirloom that deserved to be kept in an attic—or in your opinion: sold at a garage sale.

But you weren’t a home wrecker. You had pride, dignity if you will. Which could be debatable due to fucking a man you just met—one who you now knew was married. How could you destroy a seemingly happy home? Happy—to the wife and the little boy, maybe not so much to your boss that had just been so pent up for another taste of you.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

So, it ended up with Toji on his bulky knees, grabbing onto your fishnet covered thighs that were just below your skirt. You didn’t feel remorse for denying what he needed—you felt a sense of power over him. The power that usually never fell out of his grip.

Sweaty dark hair sticking to his forehead, creased with so much frustration, cursing himself for getting down—taking himself off that high pedestal—and begging you for just another taste. His cock, pulsing in need, just aching to be dipped into your warm cunt again.

“Come on—why do this to me?” Voice rough and dirty, fed up with whatever was stopping you from giving him the same treatment as you did when you two first met. “No one has to know!” God, what was wrong with him?

“You seriously don’t feel anything—“ Eyes welling up with tears now—regret coursing through his tight muscles. “For your wife? And a kid at home. Dirty little bastard.” A tear falls gently from his left eye, running down his scarred lip.

Toji looks over at the photo of his wife and child—happy as ever sitting on his desk. Yet, he felt nothing close to sadness—but the hot burning pit of want for you in the bottom of his gut.

You grab him by his tie—basically choking him much to his selfish enjoyment. “Too much of a pussy to tell the truth? To finally break off a marriage you didn’t even want?” Pleasure enters his pores when he sees the enjoyment on your smug face. He wanted to chant over and over to be rougher.

Giving a nice good tug on the red plaid tie around his neck—now popping out with blue veins of the stress weighing on him—he drops his hand from the fat of your thighs. The thick fingers drop down on either side of you, on the floor, him now on all fours. A string of whimpers fall from his wet lips, making you laugh.

“God yes.” His breaths are short and uneven, the sound giving you a dose of adrenaline. “I’m so fucking pathetic. Just—just give me this one more time—please baby.”

“I don’t fuck married men.”

“That didn’t seem to be the case two weeks ago.”

The smart remark earning him a harsh slap to his cheek, making him moan like a teenage boy loosing his virginity.

The gracious part left in your heart—decided to give in.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

You left the office that day—cunt bare and cold against the wind that lifted under your skirt. Toji kept your panties for a souvenir to remember the first time he ate you out, right next to the framed picture of his family.

Oh, and that beautiful family portrait? It was now thrown out in the dumpster behind the office, which was better than a thrift store or a garage sale in your right opinion. As well as his ring—well the ring he decided to sell at a nearby pawn shop because he’s still filthy as hell—and likes the extra cash in case of emergencies.

© simonskitty

[ophernelia]

you’re so right about your post to what i said it just rubs me the wrong way because some simmers i see on here already barely have other sims that don’t resemble whiteness and yes it’s your game do whatever you please but it’s weird asf for you to take a sim … a premade sim and change their skin color completely it’s just annoying if we barely have representation as is why change it you know.

Yeah, I get what you mean. It's a lot stuff that I've seen that's real iffy, but it's not like I can go uninstall the game off their pc lol. It is worth mentioning and discussing though! In some cases, I think it can be helpful too. Maybe people aren't thinking about the social connotations that doing that has. Even with the color correction, there's so much cc out there that people don't even know about. So, that may be new for them too. I try to give a bit of grace.

What a lot of people don't understand is that having a diverse game matters even if it is your own personal one. All types of media we consume have an impact on our world view and that also includes video games like the Sims. While, things like cowplants and aliens may not impact you significantly, its the subtle things like the beauty standards we set within our games. It may not be an outward statement of "only slim black haired sims are beautiful!", but to constantly use that archetype of like an "it girl" in your game is reinforcing some (probably subconscious) beliefs. It may not be intentional or intended to be harmful either! But sometimes we have to investigate where those feelings come from. It's worth the introspection.

There's also a level of nuance there that has to be considered though. A lot of us make sims who look like us! (Whether we intend to or not lol) I have so many sims that are my exact archetype and it's not even done purposefully lol! But regardless, diversity matters. It's good to include and to safeguard. It benefits each of us!

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[xxsabitoxx]

Tutoring Session

College Math Tutor Sanemi x Female College Student Reader

Warnings: raw sex, edging, praising, hair pulling, creampies

A/N: hit me like a freight train, I’ve been dying to write this idea for literal months and I just couldn’t figure out who to write it about… obviously Sanemi was the clear choice. I blame @peachdues tbh

WORD COUNT: 2.5k | NOT MY ART!! Credit to the artist!! if anyone knows them please let me know so I can properly credit them!

"There you go, that's right." Sanemi smiled as you solved the equation correctly, watching your hands tremble as you wrote the numbers. "Took you long enough, sweetheart." He added as you whined, the grip he had on your hair was the only thing really keeping your head from falling forward in frustration. "Let's try the next one."

All the while, the dull head of cock was gliding between slick folds. This was his idea of tutoring you, tormenting you with the promise of shoving his cock inside of you, but only after you finished your work. Sanemi had you stuck, literally and figuratively at this point.

Your knees were aching from where they were digging into the hardwood flooring of his apartment, and your body bent over his coffee table with all your math equations spread out before you. Nothing was on either of you from the waist down, Sanemi's knees keeping your legs from squeezing shut in protest."How would you solve this equation, sweetheart. Show me."

You let out a shrill whine as he caught on your entrance for what felt like the thousandth time that evening. You were soaking wet and he hadn't so much as pressed into you. Your hands trembled as you lifted your pencil again, reading over the numbers and letters with blurry vision as you tried to recall the first step.

One squeeze from his hand on your waist and you were focusing again, pushing the pencil to the paper as you wrote out your first line. Sanemi hummed in approval, pumping his cock slowly before sliding his leaking tip between your drenched folds.

If you got this one right, he'd get inside of you, you'd have to work through the rest as his hips slowly rocked in and out of you. It was his favorite part of tutoring you, he could edge you for hours on end but it didn’t compare to the warmth your cunt enveloped him in once he pushed inside. It was addicting, he’d never stop tutoring you just for this reason. 

“You have to carry that one over, remember?” he hummed as he looked over your shoulder, watching your handwriting get increasingly sloppier as you erased your first mistake. Sanemi’s eyes glanced over the other sheets of paper, you had started off so strong, then you could see exactly when he got you into this position, the shakiness of your hand was present. 

“You better hurry, it's getting harder to not push right in.” He grinned, tugging your hair just a little harder as you whimpered. The head of his cock had caught on your entrance again, but this time he kept it in place. He could feel you constricting, clenching around nothing at all and begging to suck him into the wet warmth of your sex. “S-Sanemi… sir please…” 

Your voice came out in a broken hiccup, making his cock twitch in interest as you moved down the line of your equation. “You know the rules, sweetheart. You don’t get my cock until I’m satisfied with the amount of work you successfully completed.” His knees were aching too, but he could withstand it just to see you struggle. Your hair was soft in his grasp, but the mewls you made were even softer when he tugged on the strands. 

You felt tears burning your eyes, frustration towards math mixing with the frustration of not being able to alleviate the ache between your sticky thighs. Within an hour of his tutoring, Sanemi had rendered you to an embarrassing, sticky mess. Your slick was covering his thighs as well as his pubic bone, and of course his cock. “Carry that one.” 

Shakily, you erased, whining as you corrected your mistake. “Don’t move your hips or I’ll return to grinding my cock against you.” You stilled, you hadn’t even realized you were trying to force your hips back on his length. “I’m…mmm I’m s-sorry sir.” You hiccupped, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit at this point, and it was driving you insane.  “Don’t apologize, solve the problem.” 

You focused to the best of your abilities again, tears leaking down your cheeks and spotting the paper below you as the pressure built. Between the ache between your legs and the pressure of his dull cock head pressing into your awaiting entrance, you were certain you would crack under his gaze. You could feel it burning just over your shoulder, certain it was accompanied by rosy cheeks and fucked out eyes, making even swollen lips from where he chewed them. 

Your entire body jerked forward, head nearly falling forward along with it before Sanemi tugged again. “Keep your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.” Your face was burning, he was one to talk considering the position he had you in right now.

“You are two lines away from getting my cock shoved in you, I’d smarten up and focus.” Your heart lurched, the promise in his tone was undeniable. Solve this equation and you’d get what you wanted. 

You scribbled the next line, earning a hum of approval from Sanemi as you moved to piece everything together and solve the equation. You waited with bated breath, looking everything over to confirm you were correct before shakily writing your answer.

After a beat of silence, Sanemi thrusted his hips forward, plunging his cock deep into your cunt. A loud cry of his name left your lips followed by a string of curses. The sting of being stretched so suddenly had you shivering, your pencil dropping from your hand as you tried to ground yourself. 

“Atta girl, you take me so–ha–so good.” Your cunt was fluttering around him, your hips trying to pull away just enough to ease the pressure on your cervix. The room was filled with your breathing before Sanemi finally panted “next”. You wanted to cry, frustrated and in need of relief and yet you were being forced to start your next round equations. “S-sanemi please…” 

“You heard me, sweetheart. Start the next problem.” He had regained a little bit of composure, pressing his hips flush against your own as he maneuvered his body lower. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as his front met your back, and yet again you were trying to run away from the one thing you had been begging for. “Turn the page over, we have four more to do.” His breath was hot against your ear, causing your body to involuntary shudder in response. 

You did as you were told, inhaling deeply as he returned to his original position. Once the paper was flipped and your pencil was back in your hand, Sanemi let go of the grip he had on your hair so both hands could hold your waist. He didn’t care if you struggled now, if anything he wanted to see you visibly falling apart.

You started slowly, moaning softly as Sanemi pulled out half way before slamming into you again. This paper would be a damn mess by the time you were done. That was Sanemi’s intention, after all, he liked to keep your ruined sheets of math as a reward once he was done. Your body shook with the force of his hips slamming into your own, the pencil dragging across the paper in sloppy mess as you began solving the next equation. 

“Oh fuck… fuck… fuck fuck…” You cried, pencil nearly ripping the paper as Sanemi’s hips rolled perfectly into you. The bulbous head of his cock grazed that one particular spot perfectly, making your back arch in response to the sensation. “Focus.” But his tone was hoarse, weak even as your slick arousal began to collect around the base of his cock. It's not like he could even focus on the math, eyes zeroing in on where your cunt sucked him in. 

“Solve this one right and I’ll fill you up, you’d love that wouldn’t ya?” You nodded, blabbering out a yes as your hand shakily wrote two more numbers in the first line of the problem. You weren’t going to get that far, but you’d damn near try your hardest. Sanemi’s hips were picking up their pace, falling into a brutal rhythm that was making it hard for you to properly see the numbers on your paper. The coffee table was creaking in protest with each snap of his hips. 

It was dizzying, feeling him split you open over and over as your velvety walls tried to clamp down and slow his speed. You were soaking wet, a warm gush of your arousal causing slick squelching noises to fill the small living room. “Finish the first line, sweetheart.” He could feel the sweat beading down his temple, as much as he loved to tease you, your cunt was almost too overwhelming for him.

He could fight off his inevitable release for a little while, but at the pace in which you were writing the problem out, he was certain he’d lose the battle. You were shaking as you finished the first line, eyes blurry as you tried to move the equation through your mind. You were too far gone already, cheeks burning hot as drool slipped past your parted lips. You could feel the embarrassment pushing you down, head falling forward now that Sanemi didn’t have a fistful of your hair to keep you upright. 

“C’mon, Sweet–ha–heart fucking finish the problem.'' The last half came out in a low and desperate tone, you could feel Sanemi’s cock twitching violently as it embedded itself in your velvety heat. “I-I’m trying…” you pleaded softly, tears flowing freely as you lifted your head. “I.. you’re too rough… oh fuck sir, don't stop.” you mewled, back arching as your hips shot back to meet his thrusts. Sanemi couldn’t say no to that, not when you were suffocating him. 

“Finish.” he restated, nails digging into the plush skin of your hips as his brows creased. He would have to pound some fucking sense into you… or maybe himself. Your pencil was scraping against the paper again as you worked through the equation, at this point Sanemi didn’t even care if you fucked it up and got the answer wrong, he just wanted to see a final result. 

Though, that suddenly wasn’t enough for him anymore.

A spike of arousal had one hand leaving your hips just to sneak around your front and find your clit. A sharp gasp tore from your mouth as white hot pleasure blurred your vision once more. Your neglected clit was far too sensitive for the immediate fast and rough circles Sanemi’s fingers were giving you. That and the fact that his hands were calloused, rougher than your own and creating more friction than you ever could.

“Oh fuck… I’m gonna…” you choked on your own words, the pencil led snapping as the heat in your abdomen grew hotter. Your release was sneaking up on you thanks to the addition of his fingers. “You’re already gonna cum?” Sanemi’s tone was mocking, as if his own cock wasn’t swelling with his own impending release. You let out a garbled response that sounded somewhat similar to a “yes”, no longer able to write now that your pencil had broken. 

Sanemi noticed, of course, his ego inflating like a balloon as he looked at the ruined paper and the ruined pencil. “You’re lucky that didn’t…” he inhaled, jaw clenching as he tried to stave off his release for a little longer. “You’re lucky you didn’t snap the whole pencil.” You just shook your head, cheek turning to press against the paper covered table. Your hands twitched as they found the edge, grabbing on tightly to try and ground yourself once more. 

“Don’t hold out on me, sweetheart… you’ll still get my cum for trying.” A loud whimper followed his promise, no longer able to control the noises you made as Sanemi’s hips continued to piston into your sopping cunt. It hit you then, your orgasm just barely teetering over the edge as you babbled out a jumble of curses and pleas to stop. Not that you actually wanted him too, Sanemi had learned that your cries only meant you were getting overwhelmed in the best way possible. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Ruin me.” 

You could feel the cord snap, your orgasm washing over you as his hips and fingers never faltered. You were positive you moaned his name a little louder than you wanted to, unable to help it as your ears rang from the intensity. Sanemi’s teeth sunk into his lower lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. Your cunt was quivering around him, suffocatingly tight as a warm gush of your arousal dripped down your thighs. The sight was unbearably hot, and just enough to push him over the edge with you. 

You shivered as he came, spraying your walls with his sticky release. “Oh fuck.” It was just barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. Sanemi was tense, too tense to acknowledge the marks he was leaving on your hips as his nails dug into your skin. It wasn’t until his hips came to a stuttering halt, burying deep inside your cunt that he was able to suck air into his lungs again and loosen his grip. “Y-you okay?” 

You hummed, too tired to lift yourself off of the table. “Words, sweetheart.” Sanemi was never content with your little noises after the fact. He needed the verbal affirmation that you were okay and he wasn’t too rough. “...’m good.” You heard him exhale through his nose, something similar to a humorless laugh. “C’mon, let me clean you up.” the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of you made you both shiver, his sticky release following. 

He watched your hips squirm, you were never fond of the feeling. “Sorry, sweetheart.” but again, you mumbled out an “...’s okay”. He had worn you out, there was no way he would be able to finish your lesson tonight. “How about a shower instead of a rag?” His fingers were running along your slick thighs as he spoke, carefully dragging your mixing arousal back up to your entrance and using two fingers to shove it back inside.

“You’ll have tah carry me.” you mumbled, pushing yourself up halfheartedly, your cheeks stained with drying tears. “Fine by me, it’s the least I can do.” Sanemi smiled, carefully moving to pull you into a sitting position and get your weight off of your bruising knees. “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night, would ya?” You nearly collapsed into him, turning weakly into his embrace so he could get you both off the ground. 

“You’re always welcome, Sanemi. I still have some of your clothes in my dresser.” He chuckled at that, hauling you up bridal style as he made his way towards your bathroom “I might as well move in at this point, hmm?” this time you were the one starting to laugh. “You practically live here already, Sanemi. Why don’t we make it official?” If he knew it would have been that easy, he would have made the comment weeks ago. “I’d like that.” 

[hysteria-things]

can you do a teacher!chris and a college student pleasee. (With smut. And if you want to!!)

PROFESSOR STURNIOLO

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!teacher!chris x student!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: this isn’t your first problem with this specific professor, but at this moment you’re fed up and want to put your foot down.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, p in v, degradation, spanking, masturbation (female), making out, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, squirting, cream pie

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,535

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: we are locked in🫡

your professor dismissed class mere seconds ago, and everybody either has already left the lecture hall or is still packing up. “are you meeting us for lunch?” your friend says, zippering her bag and putting it on her shoulder.

you scoff, shaking your head. “can’t.” you say, ripping out the essay you wrote for this class that was due a few days ago. “professor sturniolo gave me an F on the essay.”

“again?” she questions genuinely shocked. “he’s got a bone to pick with you.”

this isn’t the first encounter like this you had with your professor. this class — your argument and persuasion class — is the only one you’re failing this semester.

not in your three years have you ever had this type of problem, and after many F’s, you’ve finally had enough.

“well, good luck.” your friend sighs, leaving the classroom with the remaining group.

now, that leaves you and him.

it would be a different story if you didn’t do the assignment right or didn’t try on the essay, but you’re one hell of a writer and you’re sure he knows it. you’ve always been good in school, ever since a young age.

normally you wouldn’t pick up fights with teachers, but your blood has been boiling for this dude for weeks.

“what’s your problem with me?” you say sternly, wiggling the paper in your hand as you step down to where he is.

he stops erasing the board and turns to you. “class is over, ms. l/n.”

yeah, no shit.

you roll your eyes. “so? i want to speak with you about my recent essay. you always give me F’s and never explain why. i would understand if it happened once before at the beginning of the year, but for every. single. one? it’s ridiculous.

he’s emotionless as he listens to your rambling, then he shrugs. “it wasn’t good enough.”

you crinkle the paper in your fist and slam it down on the desk in front of you. “wasn’t good enough my fucking ass, professor sturniolo. is it a favoritism thing? or are you fucking the other chicks in your class so they can have good grades? is that what i need to do? do i need to fuck you?”

the moment those words left your mouth, you knew that was a huge mistake.

you wouldn’t be surprised if he does, though. he’s not much older than you, and he is attractive.

he licks his lips, tilting his head toward himself. “bring it over.”

you gulp, feeling slightly intimidated. you uncrinkle the page and hand it to him, who is now sitting in the chair.

not even reading it, he stares at it and looks back up at you. “sorry. your paper didn’t meet the expectations.”

your pinch your lips together to keep you from screaming at him. “you didn’t even read it.” you shake your head. “i should’ve dropped this class when i had the chance. you’re cocky, and a waste of my time. i’m failing probably because your teaching sucks.”

as you start to storm out, he speaks up. “i’m going to have to clean that filthy mouth of yours.” he smirks. “teach you a much-deserved lesson, then afterward you can see if my teaching still sucks.”

you pause in your tracks, face turning beat red as you slowly turn back around. “w-what?”

he motions you to come over with his finger, and for some reason, you listen.

grabbing your wrist, he pulls you over his lap so you’re straddling him. again, you let it happen. you can’t help the wetness that starts to pool between your legs.

“you can admit it, you know,” he whispers, dragging his hand from your waistband to your mouth. he grazes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“a-admit what?” you stammer, shuffling in his lap which causes him to groan and hold your hips.

he chuckles. “deep down you want me to fuck you. i bet you touch yourself to the thought of me like a desperate little thing.”

you look away, face turning even redder than before if possible. “nuh-uh.”

“your face says otherwise.” his whisper shoots a chill up your spine as he starts to unbutton your shorts.

the way your fingers move quickly inside of you have your eyes shut with your mouth dangled open.

you were lucky enough to get a single dorm, so you can do whatever you want without being sneaky about it.

the way your legs are spread makes your fingers dig deeper, curling to hit the right spot. you grip onto your sheets tight, moans and other loud noises leaving your lips.

your previous orgasms make a mess below you or the back of your thighs, but you don’t stop. you’ve been at this for almost an hour because your mind is only focused on one thing.

your lecturer.

professor sturniolo.

“shit.” you pant, your orgasm building for the nth time. you let go of the sheets to massage your breast, pinching at your nipple from time to time.

you whine. “just like that.”

legs shaking, your fingers get coated with yet another orgasm, but you wish it wasn’t your fingers.

you wish it were his.

your shorts are now on the floor, along with your shirt, underwear, and bra. chris still has his clothes on except for his pants.

hovering just above his tip, your lips move in sync with each other. his tongue fights yours, and the erotic sounds of you two kissing fill your ears.

his hands rub along your back before spanking you hard, ruining the intimate moment. you pull away to gasp.

“sit,” he demands, mouth agape as he looks down to watch you try to sink onto his dick.

you grunt from the pleasurable pain, stopping just about midway. he’s probably the biggest you’ve ever seen. “it’s not gonna fit.” you whine.

“i’ll make it fit.”

with that, he grips onto your ass, hammering up into you without being able to adjust first.

you grab onto his shoulders for dear life. you moan uncontrollably, the feeling of him raw inside of you making you grin like a fool.

you’ve been wanting him to do this for a very long time.

“look at you.” he starts, smacking your ass to have you jolt. “having the professor you allegedly hate balls deep in you.”

“i-i do— ha-ate you.” you struggle to get out, a hand landing on your asscheek again.

“is that so?” he mocks, waiting for you to talk back but instead you moan even louder. he nods. “that’s what i thought.”

he bites his lip, looking at the way your tits bounce rapidly and at the bulge in your belly, eyes widening slightly. he’d never seen something like that before.

“i should keep you around more often after class.” he groans, seeing your face of pleasure.

eyes rolled back, mouth hung open, hair disheveled and sticking to your forehead from sweating.

“you make a pretty little cocksleeve.”

that sentence makes you clench around him, your body starting to quiver from the overwhelming feeling. “ngh— feels so go-od. y-you make me feel s-so good.” you whimper. “wanna cum!”

“not until you apologize.” he tuts, grabbing and then spanking your ass. “say you’re sorry, and i might let you cum.”

you whine, his cock now kissing your g-spot more than it did before. “i’m s-sorry.”

“for?”

“for— mm!” you squeal. “for being b-bad.”

“and?”

“and-and—” you can’t finish because of the sudden clear liquid squirting out of you, now making your pussy squelch more than it was before. your back arches even harder, your brain all dazed and dumb from the overstimulation.

you start to lose stability from being too weak, so chris has to hold you by your arms.

he groans, shaking his head at the terrible mess you are making. “come on. you can do it.”

tears spill from your eyes, sobs running past your lips. “a-and for t-talking back. fuck!”

his dick twitches inside, his thrusts getting sloppy. “i hope you’re on the pill because i’m going to fill you deep, baby.”

you can only make sounds, so a high-pitched moan echoes throughout. you’re seeing stars the closer your orgasm approaches before it finally snaps and you’re smearing the ring of white around his dick.

he doesn’t stop, causing your body to twitch in his grasp as another orgasm builds since he’s still fucking deep to your g-spot.

“close again?” he laughs fake. “scream for me. let people know how much of a slut you are; letting your teacher use you to get a better grade.”

your body slowly starts becoming limp, eyes fluttering closed as you moan.

he spanks you for the last time, not caring that his job is on the line.

“louder. they can’t hear you.”

screaming this time, you cum once again when he holds you down on his shaft. you collapse onto his chest, quiet sobs leaving your lips as you feel his cum start to fill you.

he peppers kisses on your shoulders, peeking over them to grab a pen and clicking it open. he scribbles over the previous grade on your essay to write a new one.

A+

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @catalina-island @mbsbaby @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopeno1

[danikamariewrites]

The Happiest Day

Bat boys x reader

A/n: I can't believe @polyacotarweek is almost over. I know I'm late for celebration but I wanted to make sure I got out what I wnated to say. I wrote this one because I've never really liked my birthday but in the last few years I've started to enjoy celebrating. I didn't have anyone I liked celebrating with (minus my immediate fam) until college. When people really love you and want to celebrate with you that's what makes the day special in my opinion.

Warnings: none

Another year another century started for you. Today marks your 400th year and Cauldron did you not want to celebrate. Not that you didn’t like your birthday. Quite the opposite actually. You love having a day where you get to do all the things you love. But when it’s just you. 

At some point in your youth your family started celebrating multiple birthdays together. The day no longer felt special. When you were old enough you started doing your own thing. 

Having a calm afternoon to yourself, treating yourself to nice things just felt right. Of course that semi-stopped when you met your mates. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel always made you feel special and your birthday was no exception. 

Stretching and rolling around the soft sheets you reach out for your mates only to be met with their cold pillows. Your fingers brushed over a note against Rhys’s spot. Your name was written in his elegant handwriting on the outside. Opening the parchment it read, Happy Birthday darling! We’re sorry we aren’t there to kiss you and hold you on our favorite day but you will see why later. We love you very much y/n. Enjoy breakfast in bed. 

Putting the note down on the bedside table a tray appeared. A small vase with Evening Primrose sat in the corner. Chocolate croissants, fruit, toast, and bacon were laid out on beautiful blue and white plates. 

You decided to enjoy breakfast, choosing not to dwell on the giant party your mates are putting together for you.

—

Mor knew exactly where to find her cousin this morning. Entering the grand ballroom of the House of Wind Mor weaved between fae carrying large flower arrangements and party decor. She shook her head, blonde waves bouncing around her shoulders. 

Rifling through the stack of papers in her hand she picks out the one Rhys needs to sign. Looking around the room Mor spots Rhys in the middle with the party planner. He was pointing animatedly as Cass and Az lifted the heavy stuff for the decorators. Mor cleared her throat once she was behind her cousin making him slightly jump. 

Once he faced her, Mor gave Rhys a shit eating grin. “Excuse us, I just need the High Lord a moment.” The party planner gave a bow of her head, scurrying off to go perfect something else. “Cousin,” Rhys sighed, “what can I do for you, I am very busy.” Mor hands him the papers and a pen for his signature. As Rhys read through them Mor looked around the ballroom, truly taking in the lengths the males will go to celebrate you. 

Mor’s brows furrowed as she thought back to your last wine night. If she recalled correctly you hated celebrating your birthday with a huge party. “Here,” Rhys shoved the papers back into her arms. Rhys began to walk to the banquet table and Mor followed. “Does y/n like these parties? All seems a bit, ya know…much.” 

Rhys stops dead in his tracks slowly turning to face his cousin again. “Of course she likes the parties. Why would you ask that?” Mor’s eyes go wide along with that stupid smile she’s still wearing. “Oh, you have no clue do you.” 

Cass and Az have now joined the conversation. Confused looks pull at their features which are bringing Mor so much joy. The males look at each other, having a silent conversation. “Mother above you three are thick in the head.” Cassian waves his hands urging Mor to tell them. To stop teasing them with this secret information she’s holding over their heads. 

“She doesn’t like big parties. Have you ever wondered where she goes during the day on her birthday? Why has she only asked for a party with the family?” Their faces drop as the realization hits them like a ton of bricks. “Excuse me,” Rhys murmurs, quickly turning on his heel to tell the party planner to stop everything. Mor let out a triumphant hum, leaving the other two glued to the floor.  

—

On your way to the kitchen you found the house oddly quiet. Usually you could hear the hustle and bustle from the ballroom. People hurrying through the kitchen and foyer, cooking and setting up decorations for the party Rhys insists on throwing you every year. But nothing. Odd for eleven in the morning.

Normally you take the day to yourself to mentally prepare for the large party in the evening. You never liked big events or being the center of attention. It was never fun to be used by your people as a reason to climb a social ladder or gorg themselves on food and alcohol Rhys provided. 

Not that you would ever tell your mates this but you have shed a few tears after putting on your gown. Eventually you pull yourself together. Putting on a smile to look ready to celebrate.   

Shyly poking your head in the kitchen you find it empty. Your brow furrows as you place the breakfast tray in the sink. “Rhys,” you reach out to him in your mind. “Yes, darling.” His voice a purr in your head. “Where is everyone?” “We’re waiting for you in the living room.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You smirked, something told you your mates are up to something. 

You found them in various states of excited and nervous. Cassian was pacing while Rhys and Azriel sit in large arm chairs conversing quietly. Clearing your throat the three perk up, smiles plastered on their lips. Cassian made it to you first, pulling you into a bone crushing hug, “Happy birthday, sweet pea.” He pulls away from you to kiss all over your face leaving you giggling. 

Azriel pulled you to his chest next then into a searing kiss. “Happy birthday, princess. How was your breakfast?” “Delicious.” 

Rhys held your hands, resting his forehead against yours, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “You look like you want to ask something, darling.” You exhale a little. Not wanting to seem greedy but you needed to know. “No, I was just expecting the house to seem…busier.”

Rhys hummed, “Yes, you have Mor to thank for that.” Your cheeks turn red from the shame of your friend speaking up for you. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Azriel asked softly. Letting out a sigh you look down to avoid eye contact. “You seemed so happy having the party and I didn’t want to upset you.” After a few long moments of silence you feel Cassian’s hands gently grip your chin, tilting your head to look at them. Frowns replacing their smiles. 

“You could never upset us y/n.” Smiling at them you feel happy tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mates pull you into a group hug, sending pulses of love down the bond. Letting go Cass ruffles your hair. "No more tears today." He says.

"We have the whole day planned," Rhys starts, "we're going to go to all your favorite shops and then have a nice relaxing night in. Az will cook dinner and we can do whatever you want." Your face lights up at the thought of having your mates with you, doing your favorite things on your day is all you've wanted.

[edmunsonss]

Love Letters to Future Selves

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN! Reader

Summary: Eddie finds a letter that he was never supposed to read.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Swearing, kinda angsty??, it's also overly dramatic and not proofread because I just wrote this in class (sorry professor!).

A/N: I don't know what this is but I had the idea sitting in my lil idea dump, so yeah! I hope you like it :)

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Air hits your face as you stand there, alone, overlooking the city from your small apartment’s even smaller balcony. Ever since you arrived to New York, standing out on the balcony at night and looking at the lights that illuminate the buildings all around you is something that brought you comfort. Now it’s just a poignant reminder of the decisions that have brought you there.

You still remember the day the letter arrived in the mail. Eddie was there with you, sitting on your bed as you both tried to complete your English Lit assignment. It was one of the first times in your whole High School experience where you could genuinely say homework was enjoyable. Even Eddie seemed to be enjoying it, more involved in a project than you’d ever seen him be.

Your mom called your name, told you there was mail for you, which immediately made you look at Eddie.

“I think I’m going to be sick, Teddy.” You wished it was a joke, but you had genuinely felt your heart fall to your ass at her words. You had been waiting for that letter for months at that point.

“It’s going to be fine,” Eddie reassured, “There’s nothing to worry about, my little valedictorian.”

Eddie had never cared much about school, as demonstrated by the fact that by next fall, he would be a three-time senior at Hawkins High. He would have never imagined that he would end up becoming the biggest nerd in school’s best friend. Life was funny like that sometimes. Now there you were, about to escape Hawkins and go to college while Eddie stayed behind.

“Okay, okay.” You mumbled, anxiously playing with the ring on your finger, “I’ll just go get it before I throw up.”

You ran into the kitchen and basically yanked the letter out of your mother’s grasp. After mumbling out a quick apology, you went back into your room and shut the door behind you.

You stood there for a few seconds, back pressed against the door. It felt as if the purple envelope in your grasp was mocking you, like it knew the letter inside of it would change the course of your life.

“Well, open it!” Eddie laughed and secretly wiped the palm of his hand on his ripped jeans, just as nervous as you were.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You went and sat by his side once again.

“NYU.” He whispered. Your dream school ever since you were a little kid, the dream he had seen you chase for years.

You messily ripped the letter open, blinded by pure excitement. Everything went silent for a few minutes, you swore you even stopped hearing the Metallica record that had been playing.

Eddie read the letter with you, slightly craning his neck to look over your shoulder. The next thing he knew, you were screaming out of pure joy. He barely managed to catch the words admitted… Tisch School of the Arts before you threw the piece of paper into the air.

He treated you to a celebratory dinner that night. With the little money Eddie had, he took you to your favorite diner and let you ramble on and on for hours about everything you would do once you were in New York.

When the time came, Eddie was the one who helped you get settled into the apartment you would be sharing with two of your classmates. He helped you decorate your room and stayed the week before school started. You explored the city together and he made sure to take the subway to Tisch with you every morning until you had it perfectly memorized. You also took him to watch West Side Story and insisted on going to George’s for breakfast, just like your family did when they visited the city. It was probably the most magical week of your life.

Back then, you had been afraid of the distance pulling you apart from each other, but Eddie killed your fear with every call he made and letter he sent. You would even visit each other on holidays and it would almost feel as if nothing had ever changed.

You were still living inside that illusion until about an hour ago. You had just gotten back from class and figured it was a good idea to give Eddie a call before his show at the Hideout, craving to hear his voice. Neither of you had been able to talk over the phone that whole week and all you wanted was to hear how your best friend was doing.

You dialed his house number, which you had memorized as well as if it were your own. What you didn’t expect, was for someone else to pick up the phone on the other side.

“Munson residence,” Spoke a sweet voice. You frowned, what the fuck?

It definitely didn’t sound anything like Eddie’s voice, or Wayne’s. It did sound familiar, but you couldn’t put a face to the voice.

“Hello? Anyone there?” She said after a beat of silence had passed. That’s when it dawned on you. It was Emily Richards.

WHAT THE FUCK? Emily was a cheerleader, one of the nicest ones of the bunch, sure, but that still didn’t explain what she was doing at Eddie’s trailer. It surely wasn’t for one of his deals or she wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

“Uh… Ah… Hi,” You mumbled awkwardly as you anxiously toyed with the telephone cord. You told her your name, “I’m Eddie’s friend.”

“Oh! It’s so nice to finally meet you! Eddie always speaks wonders of you. I’m Emily, his girlfriend.”

You felt your jaw go slack at her words. They almost seemed to repeat themselves in slow motion inside your head… His girlfriend. Panic invaded your mind as jealousy crept into your heart and punctured it with a knife, but why?

It was perfectly fine for Eddie to have a girlfriend, right? Right? Millions of questions swarmed your mind, from thinking why he never told you about her, to wondering where this blinding jealousy came from if you were just friends.

“I think Eddie’s in the shower.” She said, abruptly putting a stop to your train of thoughts, “But I can tell him to call you back if you want.”

“Uh, that’s-that’s alright, I’ll just call him another time. Thank you though… It was nice meeting you.”

You hung up immediately after that. You’ve been out in the balcony ever since, sulking for God-knows-what reason. You fish around your pocket for the clove cigar you know you’ve got somewhere, but before you can even find it, your roommate, Tessa, walks into the apartment.

You turn to greet her, only to find she’s already looking at you with eyebrows raised. A sigh almost escapes past your lips at her expression. Tess hasn’t been your roommate for long, yet she seems to pick up on every time you’ve had a shitty day just by taking a look at you. In your opinion, it’s fucking insane… Slightly scary too.

“Don’t look at me like that! It’s not my fault you chose the balcony as your ‘I’m miserable’ spot.” Tess goes over to your tiny kitchen and you can see her shuffling around until she comes across the box of cookies that has become part of every deep conversation you have with her.

You spend most of the night sitting on the couch, talking about Eddie. Tessa is clearly unaware, but when you stir close to the topic of your jealousy she makes you question everything you thought you already knew about where you stood with Eddie. You still think about it as you lie in bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.

“I don’t understand him,” She had said, “Why would he cheat on you?”

“Cheating? Who said anything about cheating? You do know Eddie and I were never dating, right?” You reply. Tessa raises her eyebrows as she shoots you a questioning look.

“Friends with benefits then?”

“No,” You laugh. “We’re just… really close. I mean, we’ve basically known each other our whole lives. Eddie’s my best friend, nothing more, it’s how it’s always been.”

“Babe, I really don’t want to be pushy here but… does Eddie know he’s just your friend? He’s smitten! I swear he looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass.”

She then asked the question that kept you up the rest of the night, “If you feel nothing for him, why are you this upset over him getting a girlfriend? You can lie to me all you want, but you can��t lie to your own heart.”

You teased her for how cheesy her words sounded, but deep down, the question left you with more doubts than you’d like to admit.

You’re more than aware that there was a time where you did have feelings for Eddie, but a long time has passed since then. Back in your freshman year of High School, you had awkwardly tried to shoot your shot on at least three occasions, only to be turned down every single time.

It hurt at first, but you eventually got over it, because your friendship with Eddie was far more important than your romantic feelings. Yet, there seems to be where the lie is, isn’t it? To think you actually got over it. If that is the truth, then your discovery shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

So, as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, you come to the realization that your feelings for Eddie have never gone away. No, you are in love with him. Shit!

The thought startles you out of bed in an instant. A million thoughts buzz around inside your head and you cannot imagine a way in which they will quiet down on their own, so you do what you’re best at, you write.

You sit at your desk for a long time and write out a letter for Eddie. A letter you know he will never read because you find it unfair that you’ve decided to write something like this when it’s already too late. So you just use it to write all the feelings you’ve bottled up for years, then, you bury the letter somewhere inside your closet, never to be found again.

TWO YEARS LATER

Eddie

A smile illuminates Eddie’s face as he listens to the soft purrs of the cat perched on his lap. His fingers comb through her soft fur while his eyes are focused on the TV in front of him.

He’s been trying to keep himself busy until your classes end for the day. There are still a few boxes of stuff waiting to be unpacked, but Eddie wants to get your permission to do so first, knowing the only empty space left in the room is in the closet, which still has some of your stuff.

After Tessa moved out once she graduated and Eddie finished High School, he had moved to New York to help you keep the apartment you loved so much. The salary paid by the bakery wasn’t cutting it anymore and month by month you struggled to gather up enough money to pay rent.

Eddie had gotten himself a job at the bar downtown to help out. You’d insisted on him taking the biggest room and despite his refusal to do so, you had already moved most of your things into Tessa’s old room, claiming it was the least you could do for him after he left so much on pause back in Hawkins just to be with you.

After a while of watching TV, Eddie finally hears you open the door and turns to look at you as you walk in. The cat on his lap jumps down and walks over to you after stretching out her body nonchalantly. Eddie pouts and mumbles a barely audible “Hey… come back.”

Your shoulders sag as you pet her soft fur, then lazily drop your bag by the door and change your shoes. Eddie watches as you head straight for the coffee maker. A big yawm escapes your mouth and you rub your tired eye.

“Hi Teddy,” You turn your attention to him once the coffee starts brewing and offer him a smile, which he gladly returns. He can’t help but think of how adorable you look in your fluffy white sweater and the pair of bunny slipper that are keeping your feet warm. He’s no stranger to this sight, you’ve had more sleepovers than Eddie can count. Yet, the desire to wrap you in his arms and cuddle you is still present.

“I see you’ve met Storm.” You say, looking at the cat brushing her body against your leg.

Eddie straightens up ever so slightly and wiggles his legs like a little kid to stretch them out, “I didn’t know you guys had a cat.”

You laugh, “She’s the neighor’s, actually, but she likes sneaking in through the balcony sometimes. Don’t let her get too close to your hair though, she’ll chew on it.”

“Isn’t that like a sign of love or some shit? Pretty sure Henderson said that once…” You shrug and finally pour yourself a cup of warm coffee.

You cradle the cup on your hands as gently as if it were your most prized possession, “Wouldn’t know, Teddy. Anyway, I’ve got some homework to finish, but feel free to tell me if you need anything. We can go get dinner once I’m done too.”

Eddie hums—basically moans—in delight at the idea of food, already picturing the delicious pizza he’s going to be eating later, “Ugh, yes please. I can’t stop thinking about Joe’s pizza.”

“I told you it was better than Wade’s.”

“Woah! Nothing’s better than Wade’s.”

“Keep lying to yourself. It stopped being good like… years ago, it’s the nostalgia talking.” You argued and picked your backpack back up, making a beeline for your room.

“Hey, sweetheart, before you go. Is it okay if I move some of your stuff out the closet?”

You shrug once more, “Sure, knock yourself out, Eds.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

Eddie has spent almost a whole hour organizing the closet and he’s sure it’s only a matter of minutes before he goes utterly insane. He’s never been the biggest fan of cleaning, especially not when the only thing in his mind is what he’ll eat when he’s done.

His dark eyes scan over the next box and he can’t help but let out a deep sigh at what he knows is inside. An “in need of sorting” label is messily written on the side of the cardboard box, which contains some of his records and some things Emily gave him during the months they were together.

It’s been over a year and a half since they broke up and he’s over it, but even then, he isn’t exactly thrilled of having to sort through those things. As much as he likes to deny it, Eddie still feels a slight pang of guilt in his chest when he thinks of her.

He decides to move the last box of your stuff out of the closet instead. It looks small, which makes Eddie assume it mustn't weigh too much, so he picks it up, not putting much care in supporting the box from the bottom.

He quickly realizes his mistake when he picks it up and it is as heavy as if it was filled up with stones. He huffs and watches helplessly as the bottom of the box gives out and all its contents end up scattered on the bedroom floor.

Eddie doesn’t give it much thought before he kneels down and folds de box closed again, securing it with some tape he sees lying around. He starts picking up your stuff and dropping it in the box. It’s mostly school papers, Eddie notices, the weight coming from a few pocket-sized books.

His fingers brush over a folded piece of paper. Eddie doesn’t mean to snoop, but he can’t help but notice that at the top of the pages Dear Eddie is scribbled in your handwriting.

He thinks it’s probably a letter you meant to start but didn’t finish, which wouldn’t be too unusual given how busy you are with school. That’s why it comes as a surprise when he unfolds the paper and sees it’s filled with your writing. The With love at the bottom an indication that you did finish writing it.

Eddie sees no harm in reading it, after all, it’s addressed to him, right? So he plops down on the floor and shimmies around until his back is resting against the bed.

Dear Eddie,

It has always amazed me to think of how much you’ve changed my life. I still remember the day I met you, do you remember it too? You walked into the classroom wearing a shirt that was a few sizes too big for you, fingers tightly holding on to Wayne’s hand. You were so reluctant to let go, but you eventually did and sat on the only empty seat left, which was right next to me. The rest is history.

Eddie smiles as he reads. He remembers that day too. You don’t mention it in your letter, but at the time, you had greeted him with a bright smile, which had reassured him everything would be okay despite everything.

*I hold the memories of every moment we’ve spent together close to my heart. They remind me of how lucky I am to have you in my life. Maybe I’m getting too emotional, but you’ve done so much for me all these years. Like that time I was upset because my parents were going to miss my first play, so you made Wayne, Gareth, Jeff and Grant go with you so I’d have people cheering me on in the audience. Or that other time when I was practically shitting my pants out of nerves a few days before my Tisch interview so you made us go on a road trip to Indianapolis to “*calm my nerves” as you’d said.

There are obviously thousands of other times where you’ve been my knight in shining armor, despite me saying I don’t want one. Truth is, I want one if it’s you behind the armor. Is that a cringy thing to say? Maybe. I don’t know.

I found out about Emily just a few hours ago. I keep wondering why you didn’t tell me about her when I went over to visit for Thanksgiving break. I’m glad you didn’t though, because you can read my expression annoyingly well and I’d be afraid of you finding any traces of dissapointment on it. Keep in mind I’m not disappointed in you for having a girlfriend, it’s great actually! You deserve nothing but happiness because you’re nothing short of an amazing human being, whether you believe it or not. I fear my state of dejection would have been my own fault ‘cause of something I didn’t say.

I feel the need to say it now because I’m stupid and I’m selfish. That’s why I don’t really plan on sending this letter out. I can’t be unfair and burst into your mailbox with my confession right after I’ve found out you have a girlfriend. I just wanted to write this out because I don’t know what else I could possibly do with all this love I feel for you. Which is actually funny if I think about it, because if it were about anything else, I would have already called you so you’d knock some sense into me, but I can’t exactly do that right now, huh? Not when it’s about this. Not when I don’t want you to know.

But yeah, Teddy, I love you. I love you so much more than a friend should. I always share my secrets with you, but I think I’ll keep this one to myself. I’m sure you know already though, I asked you out like three times in freshman year, I wasn’t exactly the most secretive about it back then, huh?

Eddie has to stop reading right then and there, both to collect himself and wonder what the hell it is you’re talking about. Eddie’s sure he’d remember you asking him about because the one thing he’s dreamed of for years is taking you out on a date. He’s always fantasized about how he’d drop you off at home and kiss you on the porch like they did in those boring romance movies you liked. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried, in fact he had asked you out on several occasions during freshman year too! You rejected him every single time.

Now that he has time to think about it, he comes to the conclusion that all along you’ve just been morons. Two lovesick morons. He figures it’s time to fix it, but first he finishes reading your letter.

Whether you know… or don’t, I’m not sending this letter. Even if I were to, it isn’t cohesive enough, or whatever. My creative writing professor has made me become obsessed with writing everything perfectly, it’s fucking exhausting, not like it matters right now anyway.

I don’t really know what else to say other than: I fucking love you and I hope it’s the only secret I ever keep from you.

With love.

There’s a deep sense of longing in his heart, accompanied by nostalgia as he remembers growing up with you by his side. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he knew just how lucky he was to have you in his life, had never taken it for granted in fact.

In hindsight, a lot of things make sense now that he knows what you felt back them. Eddie can’t help but think of a particular Friday night, the week before Halloween.

Eddie had his eyes on the road, but otherwise, his attention was fully set on you. Hellfire’s yearly Halloween campaign had just finished and, per tradition, he was driving both of you to the trailer so you could have a scary movie marathon.

Ever since the campaign ended, you had been catching him up to what went down during the brief time window where you didn’t see each other that particular day. Much to his dismay, you were telling him about how Christian Adams—some guy from science class—asked you out on a date after first period.

“My first date! Can you believe it?” You shouted over the music playing loudly inside the van, “I’m kinda nervous, Teddy.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering while as he stole a quick glance in your direction, “Who was the date with, again?”

You groan, “Eds! Don’t start falling asleep on me, dude. It’s with Christian Adams, you know-”

“Ah! The idiot who told Harrigan two plus two was five?” A throaty laugh escaped past Eddie’s lips, you rolled your eyes.

“It was stupid, wasn’t it? I thought I’d seen it all when I heard you say Thor was a Greek God.”

“You absolutely cannot compare my honest mistake with that shit! I’m about to be a super senior and even I know basic math.” You guffawed at his comment and shook your head in pure amusement.

Eddie parked the van and you walked into the trailer, still laughing a bit. Wayne, who was sititng on the kitchen counter with a bright blue cup in hand, looked at you.

“Hey, old man,” Eddie greeted his uncle lovingly and gave him a side hug.

“Hi Wayne!” Your best friend gave your hand a gentle tug and gestured to his bedroom.

You playfully swatted his hand away and took a moment to open your backpack and grab the mug that was securely wrapped in layers of newspaper and paper towels. Both men watched with interest as you peeled each layer of paper away to reveal a beautiful mug decorated with a detailed drawing of a deer.

“I got this for you! From Colorado.”

Wayne gave you a small smile, which for someone like him was basically the equivalent of a toothy grin, “Look at that boy, should take notes from them.”

Eddie pouted jokingly at his uncle’s words and turned to look at you, “Where’s my souvenir?”

“It’s in my backpack, Teddy. Shut up.”

“Make me.” You furrowed your brows and turned to look at him, only to find him looking back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“You suck.”

He pulled you towards his bedroom once again and this time you didn’t put up any resistance. Wayne watched it all unfold and sighed, “You kids are going to be the death of me.”

•:•.•:•.☾☼☽•:•.•:•.

You had been in Eddie’s room for almost an hour at that point. Wayne had already gone to work and Eddie was busy writing down something on his DnD notebook.

Your fingers plucked at the strings of his beloved guitar, which you had insisted on not hooking up to the amp.

“So… Why did you say you were nervous for that date?”

“Well, what if he wants to kiss me?!”

“You kiss him back if that’s what you want.”

“I’ve never even kissed anyone before, what if it’s gross? What if I suck?” By that time, you were pacing around the room, Sweetheart long forgotten in Eddie’s bed. This was a topic you had discussed with Eddie countless times, but it was never something that was the cause of actual concern, until that moment.

“I heard somewhere that pretty people are good kissers, so you must be amazing at it.” You stopped dead in your tracks at his words. You knew he was probably kidding, but that didn’t stop you from feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“Ha. You’re so funny.” You replied in a dry, sarcastic tone. A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, “We could always test that theory though.”

From his expression alone, you knew he couldn’t tell if you were serious—you were… Kinda. You thought that your crush on Eddie wasn’t much of a secret at that point. You’d asked him out when you were younger, but you had never been so direct about it.

There was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he stood up walked towards you. For the first time in years, you felt nervousness crawl into your heart. For as long as you could remember, Eddie had been your safe place, you always found solace in those warm brown eyes of his, yet at that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if your stupid comment was about to ruin everything.

Eddie’s fingers grazed your face as he cupped your face. He was intimidatingly close by that point. You let your hands wander to the curls that sat right below his shoulders. That naughtiness in his eyes was long gone, replaced by a tender look.

He took that last step needed to close the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours in a timid peck that couldn’t have lasted longer than a few seconds.

The brief contact gave you enough confidence to kiss him one more time. You let him guide you and quickly realized just how correct it felt to have his lips on yours. There was nothing but pure joy in your heart as you enjoyed the feeling of having him close.

Much to your dismay, Eddie eventually pulled away. He said nothing for a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity. Then, he let out a breathy laugh and spoke, “Well, theory confirmed. That was… wow… you’re totally ready for your date, yup.”

Back then, Eddie had noticed something in your expression shift after the comment he’d made, but you’d left almost immediately after, which left him no time to ask. When you saw him Monday morning, you acted as if nothing had happened and told him all about your date with Christian. He had been hurt, but now he understood how much of an idiot he was for that comment and how he had hurt you too.

In his own defense, Eddie was genuinely convinced that you had no other intention behind your comment. He actually thought you wanted to practice kissing for a date! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT!

Eddie stands up, doubt planted in his heart like a poison, but he isn’t going to let that stop him, not again. He firmly holds the letter in his hand as he walks down the hallway to where your new room is. His hand trembles as he raises it up to knock.

He doesn’t even need to knock again before you open the door, a confused look on your face, “Since when do you knock?”

“Since, uh, now… I guess.”

You smile at him, “Well,that’s a mi—”

The words die down in your throat and your smile vanishes as you notice what he’s holding.

“Oh.” Is the only thing you manage to say before tears start welling up in your eyes.

Eddie can see your temptation to close the door on his face, but before you can do it, he musters up the courage to speak up, “I found it by accident while cleaning out the closet. Why didn’t you send it?”

Your lip trembles as you find a way to answer his question. “How could I? I had no right. I spent years hearing you talk about how you wished someone would give you a chance to show them you’re so much more than stupid town gossip. I wasn’t going to ruin your chances of that happening, not when you had someone so perfect by your side.”

“I always had—still have someone perfect by my side. You.” Eddie watches as you shake your head and tears start falling freely down your face.

“You can’t say that, Teddy. You can’t give me hope.”

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your body and pull you close, “I never told you why I broke things off with her, did I?”

You shake your head against his chest, “I broke up with her because I kept comparing her to you. I kept hoping to find at least half of what I have with you. I know it’s wrong, but you’ve changed my life. You know every little thing about me and you’ve never loved me any less for it. You care so much about me, about Wayne. It’s you, always been you and I wish I could have had the courage to say that I love you sooner.”

“You love me?”

He cups your face with the same gentleness as he did that one autumn night, “So much more than words can express.”

“Kiss me then.”

“As you wish,” He says with a lopsided smile and lets his lips meet yours.

Eddie feels a heavy weight lift from his chest at the feeling. The kiss is so tender yet full of so much passion, caused by those bottled up feelings you have shared all this time. The way you hold each other makes him feel like you’re both trying to say every feeling to that single kiss, and it’s truly magical.

When you pull away, Eddie is met by a sweet smile and your kind eyes, “I love you to.”

It’s a funny thing how everything has played out, or at least it is to Eddie. For two people who understand and share things with each other, you’ve sucked at sharing one of the most importat things of all. That you love each other. For this reason, Eddie can’t wait to make up for all the time he didn’t spend showing you how much he loved you.

[thollandneedy]

Hey Bella! Hru?

First of all… the Tom Holland Masked fic you wrote

ABSURDLY AMAZING

Second, could you write a oneshot where Peter discovers that y/n has a praise kink? Thank u🩷

Good girl- Peter Parker

A/n: Literally screaming cause my favorite Peter is soft!dom Peter and UGHHHHHH YES! JUST YES! Thank you for the request btw babes 🤍 (Definitely doing a pt 2 if you guys want too)

Warnings: Make-out and suggestive content

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“Peter?” Y/n called out to her boyfriend, who was lying on the bed.

The brunette sits up when he hears his girlfriend's voice, smiles and gets up to hug her. The girl runs into the hero's arms, who greets her with a kiss on the forehead and then a kiss on the lips.

“How did you get in?” Peter asks, placing both hands on Y/n's cheeks, looking into the shining eyes of his girlfriend, who is wearing a dark blue sweatshirt.

“May gave me a copy of the key.” Y/n explains. “I have something to show you.” The girl takes out a piece of paper from her shoulder bag with the name of her college printed on it.

Peter took the paper, moving away from her so that he could read the entire document, which soon turned into a piece of joy. Parker smiled at Y/n, hugging her once more and saying:

“I knew you'd make it, love. You're good at everything you do.” Y/n's cheeks flushed, causing the girl's feet to slowly pull away from the embrace.

“It's no big deal, Pete. It was a difficult test, and I had your help.” Y/n points with the paper in her hands, putting it in her cream-colored bag once again and then leaving it on the study table next to Peter's bedroom door.

“Stop being modest, Y/n.” Peter grimaces. “You've earned it, and asking for help is never a sign of weakness.”

“Good” The girl looks down at her own feet. “Then Santa will have to give me a present in advance for my grade.” Y/n comments, remembering that Christmas was only a few days away.

“He sure will.” Parker approaches with slow steps, putting his hand on his girlfriend's waist and pulling her close to his body. “You've been a good girl”

At that moment, the world stopped. Y/n's breathing stopped, and her eyes froze in an expression of surprise. Peter tilted his head to one side, smiling at Y/n as he saw her reaction to the affectionate nickname he had given her. It was no surprise to Peter that his girlfriend liked to be complimented, because of the words of affirmation she always liked to hear, but he didn't know that such compliments could leave her speechless. The hero gently kissed the side of his girlfriend's mouth, who only responded by kissing him back. Her hands were on the collar of Peter's shirt, which had become a fulcrum for her weight. The boy allowed his tongue to slide over her lips, making the kiss wetter.

The brunette could hear Y/n's heart beating harder, holding back his instincts to just throw her on the bed and take off his winter clothes. The girl moans against the older man's kiss, who responds with a smile.

“Did you like that?” Peter asks, pulling away from the kiss, but quickly returning at the urging of his girlfriend, who messes up his brunette curls. “Did you like that I called you a good girl?”

Y/n grunted in response, as if her legs were made of jelly and her vagina became wetter with every word he spoke. Peter laughed, taking her weight in his arms and guiding her on his lap to his bed, where the sheets were already messy. Y/n couldn't quite put her finger on why she liked it, but she just knew that she liked it and wanted more. Perhaps it was the constant need for approval in everything she pursued, or the stress of the last exam grades being released.

“Keep talking.” Y/n asks.

“Talking what? Tell me what you want, princess.” Peter trailed his kisses down Y/n's neck.

His voice sounded like velvet, and his open questions still, yes, sounded like orders coming from him.

“How good I am.” Y/n says without shame at exposing her desires."How good I make you feel. How good a girl I am, how much I…” The girl's speech is cut off by a hot kiss

Peter removes his gray blouse in a hurry, throwing it on the side of the bed in an attempt to feel his body closer to Y/n's. The girl looks at him with her eyes wide. The girl looks at him with her eyes asking for touch, validation, love and care. Peter uses his index finger to trace the curves marked by the slim shirt his girlfriend was wearing under her sweatshirt. Peter lowered his eyes to the legs covered by the jeans, and again turned his gaze to his girlfriend's mouth, which, without saying it, was begging to be kissed.

“Do you want to be my good girl, love?” Peter asks with an imposing air,

“I-I do.” Y/n agrees, almost impeded by the longing for the touch.

Peter moves a lock of hair away from the girl's eyes, putting his weight against hers, allowing her to feel how hard he was. In an instant, their hips met, and all Peter could think of was the image of his girlfriend completely submissive to him.

“Then take off your clothes and kneel for me, darling”

[eetherealgoddess]

i found your works recently and I FELL IN LOVE <333 if you feel up to it would you be able to write about a foreign exchange reader with any tr boy possibly ending in smut?

Thanks for the support! I love when you guys send requests and love!! I hope you enjoy this! ♡︎♡︎♡︎

Shoutout to @deadxyeyes for our brainstorming that led me to this idea!! The original idea we talked about was a bully au but then while I wrote the story, it became different and my brain just went on autopilot.

ꨄYou’re Never Leavingꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Foreign Exchange Student Au

❦You catch Kazutora’s eye❦

Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Pretend it’s all in Japanese bc you learned the language, except when you speak to the people from your home.

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

I’ve only been an outsider to foreign exchange students visiting America when I was in high school. The reader will be from wherever you are and this will take place in college. I did a little research on studying abroad but I can’t promise complete accuracy!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

You’re Never Leaving

Preparing years in advance for this wonderful opportunity, you finally reach the end of your second week at your new college in Japan. Excitement fills your senses as you take a selfie to send to your friends back home while sitting in the study room of your dorm. Your plan is to complete a whole year, having saved up all the money you made from working in high school for this very moment.

You’re currently sitting in a chair with a foot propped onto the mini wooden table in front of you. Your laptop open on an incomplete assignment you had been working on for the past hour, deciding to take a break. Your eyes meet the door when you hear a click, watching as a man you haven’t seen walks into the room.

You analyze his features, attempting to ignore your thoughts that begin to race at the attractiveness of the guy who entered the study room. You grab your laptop and set it on your lap after setting your phone down, continuing the paper. You keep your eyes on the screen as the brunette with blonde strands sits in the seat placed beside you.

“You’re one of the new exchange students in the dorm right?” He greets, a sly smile as he leans back in the chair, crossing his legs once his feet were placed on the table. He eyes you up and down, observing your features as well as your different aura. You turn away from your screen to acknowledge him with a friendly smile.

“Yes, I’m Y/n.” His smile seems to widen at the mention of your name.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He says, your name rolling off of his tongue as he plays with it. “Pretty name. Hanemiya, Kazutora. Call me Kazu. Say, aren’t you bored of your homework?” One of your eyebrows raise.

“Depends on where you’re going with that sentence.” You respond, giving a sly smile of your own. In all honesty, no matter where you're in the world, completing papers has never been your favorite thing to do unless it was something you were interested in.

“Let me show you a good time?” He offered, a hand raising as well as one of his eyebrows.

You give a look of contemplation with a finger on your chin. Deciding that you can postpone the completion considering it’s not due for another one or two days, you shrug.

“Sure.”

Once you packed everything, he walked you to your dorm room to grab your purse and set everything else you had aside, locking the door behind you once you got all your things. Throughout the night, he took you to different bars and clubs as well as the other hot spots in Japan, you both taking pictures with each other as you enjoyed your time together. You hadn’t known but you had already caught Kazutora’s eye from when you first moved in. The unexplainable attraction caused him to search a little more about you, though he couldn’t find much besides a few selfies on your social media.

He decided to get your attention so he could get to know you, take you out and see you in a more laid back setting besides school. He didn’t regret it, you both having a blast with each other as you drank the night away and danced. He pointed out different foods for you to try as well as feeding them to you which caused giggles that he already loved so dearly to spill out of that pretty mouth. He just knew that you’d be perfect together, your personalities fitting very well. He feels a connection he had never felt before with his one night stands and past girlfriends. Yes, he knows it’s ridiculous to be this infatuated with you and you only just met, though he can’t control how he feels.

The end of the night finally came and he walked you to your dorm. Usually he’d be in the girl’s bed, already getting to know her intimately, though he had wanted to go a little slower with you, deeming this a perfect opportunity to obtain an official girlfriend at some point. Yes, he’s moving fast but it’ll be worth it when you’re in his clutches.

“When are you free tomorrow?” He asks.

“Anytime after the morning. Gotta call my boyfriend.” You respond. His delighted expression drops when he hears the mention of your boyfriend.

“You have a boyfriend?” He questions in disbelief.

“Yeah! He’s so sweet!” You say cheerfully before dismissing yourself politely, giving him a ‘goodnight,’ before walking into your room.

He stares at the door for a moment before he turns red with embarrassment and anger. This can’t be right considering the obvious connection you two seemed to have. He can’t be wrong. How could you have a boyfriend when you had so much fun together? This is your fault for acting so casual. Your fault for leading him on. Your fault for seducing him. A vixen you are. A sneaky little serpent who tricked him. He walks away from your room to enter his own.

Over the weekend, you hadn’t heard from your new friend. A little concerned considering he stood you up the next morning, not answering your messages or calls. You let it go with slight disappointment, going on your own adventure as you toured the area, video chatting with your friends a couple of times and taking memorable pictures.

When the week began, you still hadn’t heard from Kazutora until he walked up to you during a break.

“Sorry I stood you up. Something important came up. Let’s make up for it tonight.” He says, giving a charming smile.

“That’s okay. I’m cool with that, but let’s have a chill night. I have to wake up early in the morning.” He nodded in response before you both separated and went to your designated classes.

When the night came, you both met up in the same study room you met. He brought some alcoholic beverages which caused you excitement because it helps you stay awake. You drink as you both converse and complete assignments together. As time went on, drink after drink you began to feel drowsy and hot, sweat building as the clothes on your body began to feel tight.

“You okay there?”

Kazutora had been studying you the whole night after he gave you the spiked drinks. He made sure you kept drinking by innocent friendly contests with the shots filled with aphrodisiacs, along with sleeping medication.

“I-it’s so hot in here! I’m burning up, man.” You whine as you take your sweatshirt off, too intoxicated to care that you’re only wearing your bra and pants. He smirks as he eyes your chest, ready to grab them though holding himself back to make sure the plan goes accordingly.

“Come ere.’ Let me help you feel better.” He says, motioning for you to come toward him. Your eyebrows furrow as you try to hold your head up.

“W-wait, Kazu. I c-can’t get up.” You whisper, your eyes closing as you lean against the chair only to open your eyes wide and try to hold yourself up. You look at the floor with confusion as a heartbeat forms in your panties, wetness beginning to stain.

“It’s alright, I got you.” He chuckles, standing up from his chair and picking you up, setting you on his lap cowgirl style as he sits back in his chair.

“You’re so pretty, angel.” He states, using his thumb to caress your cheek which causes a shiver to go down your spine. You grab onto his shoulders as you feel a bulge form through his pants. Barely holding yourself up you try to push back, the sensation of your whole body weakening slightly scaring you.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening.” You say as tears form. He brings your face closer as he uses his other hand to rub your back.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you.” He says as he unclasps your bra with one hand. He tosses it to the side as he eyes your hardened nipples.

“K-Kazu?”

“Relax. Everything’s okay, baby.” He flicks his tongue against your nipple, causing your breathing to pause as you look down at his mouth. He continues his kitten licks before closing his lips around the nub, sucking as he traces your back with the tip of his fingers. You couldn’t help but release a quiet moan as your hips moved against his bulge. Both of your arms wrap around his head as you lean into the sensation, grinding drunkenly as your head falls back. He continued to rub your back and suck your nipple as one of his hands moved into your pants, fitting into your panties as he parts your lips with his fingers, pressing against your clit.

Everything felt intensified, causing you to be sensitive by even the smallest touch. Pleasure engulfs you as you grind against his finger, fingers tightening in his locks as you moan shamelessly. He rolls his finger as he stares at your eyes, both of you making eye contact when your head hasn't fallen black with your eyelids closed.

“Feels good?” He whispers against your nipple, slightly nibbling. You nod your head causing him to stop moving his finger. You look at him with confusion.

“Tell me how good you feel.” He demanded with a husky voice. God you want this so bad, he can see it all over you. He just needed to hear it. Yearning for your praise.

With your hands placed on his face you lean over near his ear and whisper, “It feels so good, Kazu.”

“Yeah?” His face pink with an intoxicated look of lust on his expression, eyelids heavy without his usual smile. You nod, “Yeah.”

He continues to roll his finger against your nub, placing his lips back on your nipple as you grip his head and roll your hips. Your mouth stays slightly open as your head falls back once more in awe.

“Take my cock out. I wanna show you how hard I am for you.” He pulls his hand out of your pants as you comply, moving back to where you're kneeling on the floor in between his legs. He sits as if he’s on a throne, watching you pull his erection out after unbuckling his pants and pulling them down along with his briefs.

“See that? See what you do to me, Y/n?” You eye the length quietly, observing the veins and how the thick girth pulsates. Your pussy tingles as you feel more juices spill, leaking in your underwear as you become more turned on by the second. An intensifying heat spreads throughout your body as you lean against his legs for balance, still going in and out of darkness.

“Show me a good time.” He smirks as you nod, gently wrapping your fingers around the length. You lower your head, circling your lips around his tip, sucking lightly around the lining of the mushroom. His cock twitches in response as he gives a slight moan. You close your eyes as you fit his entire girth into your mouth, easing down your throat as your lips meet his base.

“Fuck.” He whispers, pulling his phone out as he aims it to your face, eyeing the angle through his phone as he makes sure to get your bare titties in there once he presses record.

You begin to bob your head slowly, saliva and pre cum dripping out of your mouth as you wet his dick, engulfing it in warmth as he moans, lifting his hips slightly when his head hits the wall of your throat. Too occupied with his cock you open your eyes, too high to register that a camera is in your face. You don’t care. You don’t care about anything right now. You only care about receiving his nut like the good little vixen you are.

Tired of recording, he presses the button to stop it as he sets his phone down. Using a hand to grab your head as he lifts his hips once more, pushing you all the way on his cock.

“Good. So fucking good.” He breathes as he pulls his hips back and begins fucking your mouth. Easing in and out as he accelerates. You begin to hold his thighs as he roughly thrusts his hips, becoming sloppier as time passes. Edging himself, he pulls you back abruptly.

“Take off your pants and get on me.” He says, ready to explore that pussy. You drunkenly comply as he helps you before snatching you off the floor.

“Show me what you can do.” He states, guiding his head to your entrance before you ease down, moaning as his girth stretches you out.

“Shit!” You hiss as his head immediately meets your g - spot. You grab onto his shoulders as you pull your hips back and drop down, grinding as he holds your thighs, helping you as he picks your body up and slams you back down, speed accelerating.

You both breathe heavily in each other’s ear, moaning and cursing as his hips meet yours, rutting against you desperately as he bites down on your neck.Your hands reach around his neck as you grip his shirt, scratching through the fabric with your nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed. Eyes rolled back into your head as you bounced on his cock.

“Yeah! Just like that.” He grunts, fingers gripping your skin, nails piercing as they leave indents, his mouth hanging open as he leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. The effects of the medication begin to take you as you almost faint on his cock, drowsy by the sensations as they overtake you before he wakes you by pushing you back and using one of his hands to grab your neck.

“Stay with me, angel. S’ fucking close.” You groan as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot.

“So deep, Kazu.” You whisper as a moan follows, a warmth building in your core before he slams you down one more time, the pressure causing you both to finally release, his semen shooting deep inside you as he holds you down against his lap while you grind out your orgasm.

“You did so fucking good, Y/n. My beautiful girl.” He holds onto you tightly as you begin to fall asleep on top of him, unknown to what awaits you in the morning.

You grunt as the constant ringing of your phone wakes you up, your hand grabbing your throbbing head as you slowly sit up in your bed. Your eyes are squinted as you read the contact name, confused as to why your boyfriend is calling you so early. You answer with a croaked out, “Hello.”

“How could you do this to me? To us?” He exclaims. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Look at what I sent you!”

You immediately put him on speaker as you comply, opening your chat. Your eyes widen and your hand goes to cover your mouth as you watch yourself sucking a random person’s erection, furrowed brows as tears form. You try to remember when this could’ve happened and how but you had no memory before today. Just distant memories of your first week in Japan.

“Derrick, I-I don’t know or remember, or even how this happened! You have to believe me, please!” You cry out, scared of losing the love of your life. The one you planned to marry. Tears threaten to fall as your hand shakes over your mouth.

“I didn’t know you were such a slut, Y/n.” You gasp as the line goes dead. You attempted to call him back but you were only met with his voicemail. You check the group chat with your friends to respond to all of the notifications, only to see the same video one of your friend’s said Derrick had sent to them. They shamed you and apparently blocked you. You searched their social media and couldn’t find anything.

You begin to cry, your life feeling as though it has fallen completely apart. You only hope that they won’t send the video around to anyone else at home, not that you knew many people personally. You skip your classes and sulk in your room, curtains closed as you weep for the rest of the day. You contemplate getting out of the bed when you hear a knock at your door.

With a blanket wrapped around your head and body, you opened the door to tell the visitor to go away. Of course, Kazutora doesn’t listen and walks in anyway, pulling you into a hug as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You explain to him everything, anxiety filling your mind from your violation. You talk to him about how scared you are because of the unknown person you had sucked off, stds being a fear as well as just feeling shame in general. You couldn’t believe you allowed that to happen. He explains how it wasn’t your fault and he’ll go with you to the doctor’s. He embraced you and allowed you to cry on him. He knew you needed him. Heknew that you just needed a push in the right direction. He knew that there was nothing truly wrong with you considering it was just him. He’s clean anyway.

He was prepared for the tears and pain though he knew it would be worth it once you're in his arms. After a month of healing, you both became a couple, Kazutora asking you out in a romantic way. He had patience throughout the relationship, wanting you to be comfortable in your own skin once more. A year passes and you decide to stay in Japan, having nothing left in your old country. Having attended therapy, you both live on happily, though you are still unknown to the truth that ruined your life in the first place.

[stellisketches]

Random MCD Headcanons that have nothing to do with anything (Part 5???)

Sorry I haven't made any real posts in forever. My drawing phone broke and college has been a bitch so i haven't really gotten the chance to make anything (though I finally made some more progress on the next chapter of my rewrite). In any case, please accept this next installment of head canons I wrote like 10 months ago and completely forgot about in lieu of anything that requires actual talent. Love y'all:

Laurance lost an incisor tooth in a fistfight when he was 19

When he got turned into a shadowknight it grew back, now he purposefully goes out of his way to loose teeth just cause he knows he can grow back an unlimited supply

Hayden has a cat named Bog Butter. He’s the color of butter and he found him in the bog. 

Vylad’s favorite vegetable is avocado

There are three major guard academies in Ru’aun: one in O’Khasis, one in Scaleswind, and one in Bright Port. 

Bright Port’s is the largest and most well known

O’Khasis’ is the most prestigious

Scaleswind’s academy is the most difficult

The bare minimum age to join is 14, though most people join between 16-19

Every guard must have a minimum of 2 years training to earn the actual title of Guard, however to serve in O’Khasis you need a minimum of 4 and for Scaleswind a minimum of 5. 

Part of that training includes apprenticeship, so they do get some in-field experience with their mentors (think unpaid intern)

Technically you can train for up to 8 years, however most people only train for 2-5.

Garroth was in academy for 3-4 (although to be fair he had been trained in sword fighting since he was like 9)

Laurance went for 5 years and Dante went for 6 ½ 

Dante lied about his age when he enlisted though

He was barely thirteen

Both went to the Bright Port Academy however they were in different divisions at different times since Dante is younger, so they really only saw each other in passing and never actually talked to one another

The only personal interaction they ever had was one time at the academy Laurance was trying to get back to his dorm after a night of copious drinking and partying and could barely walk out the front door of the bar. Dante (who was pretty tipsy himself) ended up half-carrying back to Laurance’s dorm before going back to his own. Neither of them remember this. 

Katelyn’s two older brothers’ names are Kaj and Khareem

Khareem is the oldest, then Kaj, then Katelyn, then Kacey

Occasionally, when he is absolutely, positively, 100% sure he is alone, Zane will sing to himself sometimes

Dante once did a Zane impression in front of everyone and Garroth got so freaked out by how realistic it sounded he made Dante swear he’d never do that voice around him again. 

The worst argument Kenmur and Emmalyn ever had during their marriage was whether their system was heliocentric or geocentric (Kenmur argued the former and Emmalyn argued the latter)

In most colleges across Ru’Aun, there is usually some statue of Enki that students will leave offerings to before their big exams

Offerings vary, but it’s usually something like food, money, trinkets, or paper. It varies on how important the exam/how desperate the students are

Kenmur went to one of these colleges for a few years

One time he fell asleep the night before his final exam and he woke up like an hour before his exam was supposed to take place and in a fit of panic he dumped his entire wallet in front of the statue. He passed with flying colors.

One time at the Narhakan college someone left a life-sized horse statue made out of gold. No one has any idea where it came from or who left it. It’s become kind of an urban legend among all the colleges

Zenix never learned how to read and by god he isn’t about to wimp out now

Garroth tried to teach him once and it… did not go well

Let’s just say Garroth still owes Emmalyn a book from that incident. And a new table. 

Zianna came from the same region that Esmund was native to

Katelyn absolutely despises the feeling of sand in her shoes

Dmitri and Nekoette raided the Bright Port guard academy kitchen the first night they got sworn in

Dmitri also had to go to the infirmary after getting shot in the arm by one of Nekoette’s loose arrows

Laurance can play the piano and used to play it at some of the taverns in Meteli

Levin and Malachi both know a good bit of Elvish thanks to spending so much time in Yggdrasil

They switch to Elvish for the majority of their arguments

[seongminiz]

hotdemonsummoner . com - kang minhee

minors dni ; demon dom!minhee x human sub!reader ; 2.4k words

warnings : fem reader , dubcon , not rlly proof read (thats my trademark atp) , reader is an idiot and a monsterfucker (just like me fr)(very mild monsterfucking btw bc he literally looks human with horns like ..) , crack-ish in the first half but i swear it gets smutty quick , minhee is kinda mean , spit (minhees spit works as an aphrodisiac ehegegheh), its just messy overall , unprotected sex , breeding but its not rlly breeding but ,, whatever , possessive minhee [pretends to be surprised] , manhandling , size kink , strength kink (reader is referred to fragile/small but its just in proportion to a literal demon n has nothing to do with how she looks !), oral (f receiving) , biting , marking , dumbification ? , praise , dacryphilia , minhee calls reader 'little human' (giggling kicking my feet) . hopefully i didnt forget anything

tagging my lovely @ajaxsbeloved hope u like this 🫶🏻

the warning list is ,,, long . it might be a little cringe but i literally give zero fucks‼️⁉️ but i do feel like the smut part kinda sucks but also it might be that im just sad while posting this n its affecting how i view my work idk ANYWAYS wrote this while i had a cold n then a mosquito bit me on the eye so any and all mistakes r bc of that real no clickbait . had so much fun writing this uhhh happy spooky season idk i want demon!minhee in a way that is concerning to feminism lesbianism and my gender identity amen

demon!minhee whom you not so accidentally summoned in your room one uneventful night.

you're bored to death. your favorite show hasn't had a new episode in weeks, all your friends are busy - studying for exams, working, on dates while you're sitting in your lonely bedroom, staring at the ceiling as if it'll solve all your problems in life.

you start considering it might be able to do that when, out of nowhere, you're reminded of the stupid website you visited a few days ago with your friend when she was sleeping over at your place. something about the occult, hot demons and summoning rituals. you grab your phone, opening an incognito tab and typing the link you somehow remember by heart (hotdemonsummoner.com? seriously?)

if this was a horror movie you'd probably be dead in the first ten minutes. you grab a pen, paper and a candle - the tutorial talked about multiple small ones, but you'll have to make do with the cinnamon scented ikea christmas candle that has been sitting on your desk for at the very least three years. and once you're done, you wait for the magic to happen.

five minutes later, there's no sign of any hot demon summoned instantly in your room. you're pretty sure- no, you're certain the problem was the candle. either that, or the site is complete bullshit, but you refuse to believe that. there's no other explanation, screw ikea and their stupid christmas candles.

you sigh, placing everything back where it belongs and letting yourself fall on the bed, picking up your phone just to be met once again by no notification, no nothing, just that stupid 'SUMMON A HOT DEMON INSTANTLY!' title in neon pink with a little devil gif floating right beside it, mockingly staring back at you.

that's when you see something from the corner of your eye, a shadow sliding across the wall. it's probably just the light outside hitting a tree weirdly and casting a creepy shadow, no big deal. but there's no trees outside your window, you're a broke college student who lives in a sad gray apartment complex in an equally sad and gray city.

you gather enough courage to look up from the screen of your phone, your eyes slowly adjusting from its blinding brightness to the darkness of your surroundings. at first you don't see anything, half tempted to turn your phone flashlight on. and then you make eye contact.

he looks just as confused as you are when he quite literally spawns in front of your bed. the normal human reaction would have probably been to scream, instead you just gasp in surprise, followed by a small 'oh.' as you look at him with wide eyes. he takes slow, calculated steps towards you and you have half a mind to hastily turn off your phone, hiding it under a pillow.

'what the fuck?' you say under your breath, studying his figure. if this isn't some extremely technologically advanced burglary and you're not having an expired candle fumes induced hallucination, then this is the demon you tried to summon. and he's actually hot, which means the website was not a scam and the candle is the problem. he seems to read your exclamation and general confusion as a question on why he's there. 'you summoned me.' he explains, taking yet another step towards you.

'no! wait! don't get close!' you order, your self defense weapon of choice being the pen you used to summon him. 'listen,' you start, raising your hands defensively 'i did not think the random summon a hot demon instantly tutorial i found on a sketchy website would actually... well, summon a hot demon instantly.' the creature - minhee, you don't know how you got his name, if he telepathically shared with you or what - raises an eyebrow, amusement clear on his face. 'so you think i'm hot?'

'no! i mean yes! but like not in a i want to fuck you way! just in a... you're an objectively beautiful man- demon, sorry, way...?' you can feel your body temperature rising, getting restless under his unwavering stare. and minhee can feel it too, he can hear the way your heartbeat hasn't calmed down for a second and he can see how your thighs have been clenched together ever since he appeared. his eyes linger for a few more seconds on them, observing the way your shorts ride up everytime you anxiously squirm under his gaze.

'so, little human, why would you want to summon a hot demon instantly? is there anything in particular you need from me?' the nickname has your stomach doing backflips, you swallow thickly before speaking 'will you steal my soul if i say yes? take it as a payment for whatever favor i may ask?' the demon laughs, leaning down so his face is just a breath away from yours. 'not really. i could make an exception for a pretty girl like you,' his eyes flicker to your lips for a split second, so fast you don't even notice it.

thing is, minhee usually does feed off of human souls, but there's something about you that's telling him to not do it just yet, wait it out and see how it goes. maybe he could feed off of something else, something he doesn't get to do that often nowadays. surprising, but the monsterfucker demographic - even the milder ones who would only ever go as far as fucking his semi-human form - is basically an endangered species nowadays.

before you can answer with what favor you actually need (not that you'd actually know what to ask.. what, were you going to offer him to play UNO or something?) minhee's hands are on top of your thighs, spreading them slightly as he presses his lips to yours. you shiver at the cold sensation of his skin, way too cold for a human, and minhee can hear your heartbeat quickening, as you weakly grab his wrists in a failed attempt to get him off of you - or at the very least slow down the process of whatever is going on.

minhee finds your fighting amusing, he knows no human could ever overpower him physically, let alone a little fragile thing like you, but he still indulges in giving you the small hope you could break free from his hold, just to take it away immediately after. one of his hands leaves your thigh to grab both of your wrists, pinning them over your head, the other one staying on your thigh, pushing it to spread even more as his thumb runs along the hem of your shorts.

his mouth is on you once again, and this time minhee forces his tongue past your lips - the tip of it is slightly pointed, not enough to actually hurt you in any way but enough to make you wonder what exactly it could do. you panic for a second, just for everything to slow down, your body relaxing under minhee as the arousal between your legs grows tenfold, you can feel your panties sticking to you and minhee doesn't give you an answer once you look up at him in confusion, your eyes welling up with tears. you can barely come up with a coherent sentence, 'wha- what did you do?' you manage to stutter out, every word getting harder to say as your mind slips, you don't even know where.

minhee's hand leaves your thigh, going to gently wipe the tears that started running down your cheeks. 'mh, that's interesting,' he says, more to himself than to you, fingers sliding down your face to lightly brush against your lips. 'i've used this on other humans before, but their reaction was never this strong.' you don't have time to ask what exactly 'this' is - you don't even know if you have the brain power to do it, really - as minhee forces your mouth open and spits in it. you gasp at his action, but still end up swallowing, your body shuddering with another wave of what could only be described as raw pleasure.

you don't know how he's doing that, but you feel pathetic, getting this horny over someone who hasn't even touched you yet shouldn't be normal. but, honestly, what exactly is normal about a demon appearing in your room and trying to fuck you?

your shorts have been discarded somewhere in your room, and your panties are quick to encounter the same fate - not before getting ripped off of you, to which you whine in disappointment, but minhee cuts you off saying something about you 'not needing them when you're with him' you don't really pay any mind to.

he takes his time with you, biting your thighs to the point you're sure you're bleeding, and then running his tongue along the small cuts he caused, letting whatever the obscure substance mixed with his spit is enter your bloodstream in a matter of seconds, reducing you to even more of an incoherent mess.

when minhee finally gets to eating you out, it all escalates far too quickly for your slowed down brain. for a second he's sucking on your clit, and then he's fucking you with his tongue, reaching spots a human could never dream to reach with their mouth alone. the stimulation is too much, your hands search for any kind of support, something you can grab onto, your fingers running through his hair and pulling slightly before minhee grabs your wrists, moving your hands to hold onto his horns instead and letting out a groan when you do so.

he works on you until you're on the brink of consciousness, until you've lost count of how many times you already came - around three, probably, but they feel like ten times that when each orgasm is more intense than the other and your perception of reality is fading with it. minhee notices it, ignoring your pleas about it being 'too much' and how u 'cant take more' and slipping two of his pretty slender fingers in your sopping cunt. you sob, shaking your head as you uselessly try to squirm away from his touch, subsiding to the unbearable pleasure just a few seconds later.

'already tired, little human? how are you going to take my cock if you can't last a few rounds with my tongue and fingers? maybe you don't want it that bad, then,' he's just fucking with you, deep down you know it, but the thought of minhee just leaving you like this after everything he's done is enough for you to desperately shake your head as you grab his free hand - a far too intimate gesture for this whole 'fucking a random demon you just summoned out of boredom' situation you've found yourself in - pulling him into yet another kiss that leaves the both of you breathless. you never knew it would happen in your lifetime, but you managed to make a demon, a being who doesn't need to breathe, breathless.

'is that convincing enough?' you whisper in a split second of lucidity, your mind and body already subsiding to the effects of his spit you might as well have grown addicted to, half tempted to kiss him again and only interrupted by minhee slowly slipping his fingers out of you. your complaints about it are short lived, so focused on the emptiness between your legs you don't realize minhee has pulled out his cock until his tip is pressing past your entrance.

the stretch is almost unbearable, despite all the time minhee spent overstimulating you he's still too big, and you tell him exactly that in an attempt to slow him down. it only feeds minhee's ego more, though, he chuckles as he pins your hips to the bed, telling you to 'stay fucking still and just take it,' forcing his whole size inside of u until he bottoms out. you've never felt this full, struggling to even breathe as the feeling of minhee inside of you overcomes all your senses.

minhee gives you no time to adjust to the way his cock is stretching you out, immediately thrusting into you and reaching even deeper. all your pleas for him to go slower fall to deaf years, quickly being replaced by the moans you're struggling to quiet down. it's not long before you're getting close again, still sensitive from all your previous orgasms.

'need to cum' you whine, your hips buck up to meet minhee's, feeling his tip hit spots you never knew existed. he chuckles, slowing his thrusts until a fresh wave of tears is filling your eyes at the idea of being denied of your release. 'you need to?' his tone is mocking, but you're so fucked out you can't notice it, quickly nodding 'yeah, need to cum all over your cock.' that's all it takes for minhee to pick up his pace again, aim even deeper than before and have you quickly approaching your high as you incoherently moan his name.

you feel like your soul has been ripped out of your body, gone through each and every layer of hell, and then put back where it belongs. your legs shake as minhee keeps mercilessly fucking you, mumbling something about how he's going to 'fill you up and keep you forever' that, even in your fucked out state, slightly alarms you, your hands pushing at his shoulders to no avail just to be once again pinned above your head.

minhee knows it's physically impossible for a demon to breed a human, and yet, the idea of somehow making you his through it sounds so appealing, as you sob in overstimulation and keep begging him to pull out. he might be aware of there being no consequences if he cums inside, but what would a human like you know? the way you squirm under him, trying to convince him to pull out is almost endearing.

'you're so well behaved, little human, it would be a shame to let all the results of your hard work go to waste, right?' you keep shaking your head, a high pitched moan leaving you as minhee finally cums deep inside of you, tightly pressed against your cervix to make sure you're marked by him, completely ruined for anyone else who'll ever try to fuck you.

minhee doesn't know why he did that, despite having no plans to keep you he still found himself desiring, needing to claim you as his little human. as he stills inside you, minhee thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might bring you 'back home' with him.

[writingonleaves]

bundles of flowers (we'll wade through the hours of cold) - brock boeser

pairing: brock boeser x original female character

warnings: literally nothing, lots of fluff, flower research i did two years ago, not proofread

title: “promise" by ben howard

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: dug up a creative writing piece i wrote two years ago for a class and tweaked it a bit to create this. happy holidays to all. hope you all enjoy <3

*****

It’s a routine.

When Amber Chen was a young girl, she spent most days after school at Petals Lab & Design, zooming through the front door into her father’s waiting arms, chattering about the meal she had whipped up in the play kitchen at Kindergarten that day. Customers would fawn at her pigtails as she hid shyly behind her father or skipped behind the counter and hoisted herself up on a stool, munching on apple slices her mother had cut.

During her high school days, she would be sure to lock her car twice, twirling her keys around her pointer finger as she walked in. She’d drop her backpack, placing her iced green tea in the center of the counter. If the shop was filled with customers, she’d go into the back room and check the whiteboard filled with her father’s scrawl. If the shop was empty, she’d lean her head on her chin while listening as her parents rattled on about shipments or what was going to for dinner that night. On Mondays and Fridays, it was just her and Xavier or Willow in the shop. On those afternoons, she blasted the music a little louder, swayed her hips a little bolder and dragged whichever poor soul was working that day into a dramatic dance that always left both of them laughing. 

Once Amber went to college, she still found herself coming in every other Sunday to help out, with a sample of whatever baked good she had made that week, an iced green tea, a hot black coffee and a cappuccino. Her mother would always roll her eyes, before reaching for a cookie or cupcake or brownie, chewing it thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and scrunching up her nose. 

“This is too sweet,” she’d say, or, “Too much chocolate.” 

Her father would then wander out, taking a small sip of his coffee first before placing a gentle kiss in her hair. 

“Missed you. How are classes?” Before she could answer, he would always get distracted by something else, whether it be a customer, a phone call or the sudden epiphany of remembering something he had to do hours ago. 

Amber knows that a bouquet of lilies was always acceptable for a funeral or that corsages cost $30 on average, and that yes, they can find a flower color to match the dress. She could rattle off cost estimation for bouquets by the time she was 13. She even finds herself from time to time sitting across from couples at a table tucked in the back corner of their shop, pulling out wrinkled papers to consult them about the floral arrangements for their wedding. 

One hot morning in July, she’s left completely alone to open the shop. Her parents are helping with preparations at a large wedding. She had decided to play one of her favorite playlists over the speakers, soft guitar plucking and the honey-like voice of John Mayer accompanying the routine of putting out the flowers that had arrived that morning. The music’s louder than usual, as people usually flock in about an hour after opening.

But this time, the bell rings after two songs, and she looks up to see a guy around her age, gray hoodie over his blonde hair, black vans covering his feet. The neutral color scheme of his outfit heavily contrasts the bright colors of the flowers around him. He has a calm aura about him, hunched shoulders as if he’s trying to make himself smaller to fit into the shop. She shoots him a tired smile before going back to stocking the bouquets of roses. She waits until the end of the song to speak up, finding him glancing at the orchids.

“Anything I can help you with today?”

He looks up, “Uh, not at the moment.” His hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “My mom’s birthday is today, and I’m a jackass who is getting her something right before she wakes up.”

“Well, orchids are always a solid choice.” Amber backs away with a small nod. “Let me know if you need anything.” He hums in thanks, and she walks back to the register. 

She pulls out her laptop and looks over the materials her eventual boss sent her to read before her first day of work in a month,  singing along to “Daughters” under her breath, ears alert for the tinkling of the bell at the front door. 

She looks up to see the guy shuffling to the counter, and closes her laptop. He clears his throat, eyes bright and smile contagious. “Do you happen to do custom bouquets?”

“We do.” Amber walks from behind the counter and leads him to their lab, eyes going to the multitudes of flowers and brain already spinning with ideas. “Tell me about your mom. What’s your relationship with her like?”

He blinks. “Good. She’s literally always smiling. Has never yelled at me once. She’s the strongest woman I know.” He trails off as she gathers a couple of various stems. “That all you need?”

“Well, let’s see.” She points at each flower as she describes them. “Gerbera Daisies represent happiness, pink carnations represent gratitude and peonies represent prosperity and good health. Pair all that with some baby’s breath and you got a beautiful bouquet right there.” She raises an eyebrow. “Ultimately though, it’s your gift. I can do whatever you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head with a nervous chuckle. “It’s perfect. Go ahead.”

She flashes him a grin before methodically cutting the stems of the flowers, arranging them into a lively arrangement of colors and wrapping it all together with tissue paper and a ribbon to match.

He pays for the bouquet at the register, and when she comes around the counter to hand it to him, he thanks her before ducking his head down and walking back out into the muggy Saturday morning air. She blinks as she watches him get into his car, but shakes her head to herself as the phone starts ringing. 

A few weeks later, Amber finds herself waking up to a frantic call from her mother, asking if she can meet up at Camrose Hill for a wedding. Her father has to deal with a shipping miscommunication back at the store, and she needs one more helping hand. When Amber arrives, she steps out, travel mug filled with tea in her right hand and her left hand smoothing down her red floral dress. After asking around, she finds her mother next to carts filled with roses in various colors. With a quick hug, Amber gets to work on building the arch, the light breeze making her regret not putting her hair up. 

“Funny seeing you here.”

She looks up and blinks twice, standing up from her crouched position. 

“Good morning.” She eyes him up and down, admiring his white button up and black dress pants. 

“You here for the wedding?”

“I’m the Best Man, actually.” He chuckles, shoving his hand in his pockets. “My best friend’s getting married.”

“Congratulations,” she says softly, climbing onto a nearby chair to reach the top of the arch. “Beautiful place to do it too.”

He nods, eyebrows furrowing as she stumbles slightly in her heeled sandals. “Do you need help?”

“Absolutely not. You’re a guest. You shouldn’t even be out here right now.” He eyes her warily when she attempts to reach down to grab some roses off the cart, hands automatically going up as she almost falls over. She sighs, “Fine. Grab me five ivory ones and three pink ones, please. And the scissors.”

“So, what do they mean?”

“Hm?”

“The roses. What do they mean?”

She glances at him as she intertwines the stems together, wiggling her fingers at him for more flowers. “They’re roses. Roses are pretty typical for a wedding, generally symbolizing love. I’m sure you know that.”

“How about the colors?” 

“Your friend’s soon to be wife chose ivory instead of white, and ivory usually means gracefulness. Peach roses are usually given as a thank you gift, so gratitude and sincerity is tied to that one. I’ll admit that green roses are more rarer in weddings, but it means growth, so perhaps the start of growing together as a married couple?” She shrugs. “Or maybe she just likes the color combination.”

“Knowing Stacy? It was probably very methodical.”

Amber laughs airily, before sticking her hand out. “Help me down? I need to move the chair to the other side.”

Before he can respond, someone from inside the tent calls his name. He helps her down quickly, before running his hand through his hair. 

She hums. Brock. It fits. “So that’s your name.”

“Can I get yours?” He asks hopefully. 

His name is called again and Amber shrugs with a sly grin. “Another time. Think you’re needed, Best Man.”

With a slight huff, he backs away with a wave. Her attention goes back to her fingers as she threads the flowers into the white arch, listening to the chatter of the other employees preparing. She’s out of the venue before the guests have even started arriving.

The summer always brings in tourists from all over, many itching to take a peek at a shop that has a rainbow of flowers outside of its doors. Balancing her new job at a PR firm, she pops in to help her parents, fingers slowly getting scars and cheekbones beginning to hurt daily. 

On a day where the sun is shining bright and the shop is in a lull during lunch hour, Brock walks in. His smile is wide as he makes small talk with her mother across the shop. Amber freezes when she sees both sets of eyes on her, and swallows her tea as he walks over. 

“Hi again.”

“I came in yesterday looking for you,” he said. “Your parents told me to come back today.”

“Looking for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they tell you my name?” 

“Amber.” Fuck, her name rolls off his tongue so sweetly. 

“That’s what they call me.”

“Beautiful name for a stunning girl.”

She snorts, “What can I do for you?”

He grins slightly at her professional tone. “My mom was complaining about how her place isn’t homey enough, so I figured I’d come to my favorite flower shop and talk to the experts about how to fix that.”

“My parents could’ve helped you with that.”

“I know, but I wanted your opinion.”

She moves from behind the counter, lips lifting into a smile as he immediately follows her. “If you want just a bouquet, you can never go wrong with sunflowers. And judging from your sporadically timed visits, you’re probably not around town much, so it wouldn’t be wise to get a plant that you would actually have to take care of. Unless that’s what your mother wants.”

“How do you-”

She stops in front of the sunflowers, ignoring his question. “We got a fresh delivery this morning. If you don’t like these, there are plenty of orchids I’d suggest as well.”

“I’ll take the sunflowers. What’s the special meaning of these?”

“Exactly what they look like. They bring happiness into people’s day.”

“That they do.” She feels her cheeks flush from his stare.

She quickly rings him up and bids him farewell as he walks out the door, smiling to her parents along the way. They both turn their heads to look at her as soon as the door shuts, and she rolls her eyes before venturing into the back room, ignoring the shout of questions and comments.

Winter rolls around quickly. Every time someone has purchased sunflowers these past couple of months, she can’t help but think of Brock; the last image of him imprinted in her brain was him walking out the door with sunflowers in his hand. That was four months ago.

Since then, Amber’s figured out who he is. Brock Boeser. Vancouver Canucks. Minnesota’s very own. She’s spent many nights with a few glasses of wine deep thinking too much about it. 

She’s outside the shop one day after a long day of work, on top of a ladder, gloved fingers fumbling around with the string of lights. Her cheeks are rosy, snowflakes are sticking to her hair and she’s been yawning every five minutes for the last hour, but she’s determined to get these lights up before she locks up in 15 minutes. The poinsettias, mistletoe and holly are scheduled to arrive the next morning.

“Are you guys still open?”

She straightens up at the familiar voice and tightens the gray scarf around her neck. “Yep. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hangs the last of the lights and plugs them in. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms, she stores the ladder away and walks in. 

“Brock. Hey. What can I help you with today?” She asks, ducking into the back room to hang up her coat. The shop is quiet, crooning notes of Spotify’s “Christmas Coffeehouse” playing in the background. The dark blue button up peeking out of his black winter coat makes her smile. It’s the most color she has ever seen on him.

“Can you help me with a bouquet?”

“Of course.” She observes the half-empty buckets. “What things do you want to symbolize this time?”

“I actually know what I want.”

“Oh yeah? Great. What would you like?”

“Purple lilacs, irises, pink roses and baby’s breath, please.”

“Just give me a second. The roses are in the back.” She begins arranging the flowers and looks up as she’s grabbing the wrapping paper, noticing his confused stare. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, you just, didn’t tell me what they mean. Like, the flowers.”

Amber chuckles. “You’ve obviously done your research. You still want me to?” Brock nods. “Okay, purple lilacs symbolize first love, irises symbolize wisdom and eloquence. Roses are romantic, but pink ones specifically? That symbolizes admiration. So I would guess you’re giving this to someone you like, maybe a romantic partner? Someone you haven’t been with for long?”

He whistles, “Damn. You’re good.”

Her heart sinks the slightest bit as she shrugs, before a particular set of flower stems caught her eye. “I know it’s your bouquet, but how would you feel about adding daffodils? It would add a beautiful contrast to all the purple you have in here. I won’t even charge you for it.”

“Add them in, and charge me for it too.” She plucks the daffodils out of the bin, separating them throughout the bouquet. “What do those mean?” Brock asks. 

“The daffodils?”

“Yeah.”

She clears her throat. “New beginnings.”

After adding the finishing touch of a purple ribbon, she punches the sale in the register and walks from behind the counter to hand the bouquet to him. 

Brock shakes his head. “Nope.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry?”

“They’re for you, actually.” She raises an eyebrow, and he continues, flexing his fingers continuously. “It’s my stupid way of asking if you would like to go on a date with me.”

She looks down at the bouquet and back up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“If you’re free. Or in a couple weeks. I, uh, I don’t work around here, unfortunately. So I won’t be back in Minnesota until about a month or two.”

“I know who you are, Brock Boeser.” She hands the flowers to him again. “Hold these while I close up?”

“Is that a yes?”

Amber grins, scanning the shop. “Yeah. It’s not stupid, by the way.” She shuts off the lights, grabs her coat and locks the front door, her date for the night following her obediently. “It’s actually really sweet.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.” She tentatively reaches for his fingers with her other hand as she admires the bouquet. “Do you wanna know something?”

“Anything,” He says, leaning down so he can hear her better.

“Daffodils are actually my favorite flower.”

“Like, ever? Out of all flowers?”

“Out of all flowers.”

He leads her to Osteria La Buca with a wink that has her stomach flipping. “What a coincidence.”

She looks down at the bouquet with a smile.

[cowgurrrl]

OKAY WAIT

late night talks with college!joel - how reader and him came to date. they were studying they got distracted talking about something and stayed up all night taking. now joel can get her off his mind. 😉

thank you harry styles <3

I’ll kiss you on the mouth dude I love this idea

UPDATE: I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO END IT AND IF IT WASNT FOR MY MELATONIN KICKING IN I WOULDVE CONTINUED IT

She’s got a book for every situation

Pairing: college!joel x fem!reader

Summary: this ask

Author’s note: typed in tumblr and not proofread so god speed slayers 🫡

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, Joel being The Biggest Flirt, June your BA in English is showing, I think that’s it??

Working at the writing center on campus has its perks. You get unlimited printing, editing experience, and free coffee. Granted, it’s from a pot that had been simmering for several days but it’s free nevertheless. You’ve even managed to get in good with a few professors who would recommend their students come to you if they need help. Normally, they don’t take the advice until finals week and they all scramble into your office all at once. So, when a tall guy with curly dark hair walks into your desolate lobby, you’re a little surprised. He looks lost with a stack of papers piled in his hands and visibly relaxes when he sees you peek your head out.

“Hey there. Can I help you?” You ask, approaching him.

“Maybe. ‘M from Dr. Phillips class and she said to come to the writing center and ask for…” He trails off as he glances down at his paper before saying your name. “Said she might be able to help me with my paper.”

“Yeah, I think she can help you with your paper.” You say and hold out your hand to grab the red inked paper. It’s a paper on Kerouac who’s never been your favorite. In fact, you wrote an entire paper about how pretentious and privileged Jack Kerouac actually was but that’s neither here nor there. The bottom line is that you know how to write a paper professors are looking for. You feel his eyes scanning your face as you read his thesis and try to ignore the blush creeping over your cheeks.

“I take it you’re the brilliant writer Dr. Phillips likes so much.” He says. You smile but don’t take your eyes off his words so you don’t get distracted by his presence.

“Dr. Phillips doesn’t like anyone.”

“She seemed to like you. Told me all about how smart you are,” he says. “Never mentioned the pretty part, though.” Finally, you look up and meet his gaze.

“Technically Dr. Phillips isn’t allowed to recommend one student editor over another. It’s against our policy and makes things a little fairer for everyone. So, can we keep this little secret between us…” you let your sentence end, realizing you never asked his name, and he holds out his free hand.

“Joel.” He says and you shake his hand.

“Well, Joel, I’ll tell you what. I’ll agree to help you get your paper in order if you agree to not get me fired. Fair deal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He says politely.

You spend the rest of the day walking Joel through essay structures, grammar mistakes, and thesis issues. His argument is strong but it needs to be more concise and punchier. When you try to explain it to him in those terms, he looks at you like you’re from Mars. Eventually, after a little too much flirty small talk, he tells you about his dad’s construction company and you learn to put flowery, over dramatic writing advice into clean, neat boxes that he understands completely. Unfortunately, you don’t end up finishing the actual essay before the center closes.

“You’re free to come back tomorrow morning so we can finish this.” You say as you gather your things and stuff them in your backpack. Joel stretches in his chair, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a gorgeous sliver of tan skin and you have to force your eyes away from the sight.

“D’you live far from here?” He asks, standing and throwing his own backpack over one shoulder. You waffle for a moment, unsure if you want to tell this almost perfect stranger where you live.

“Maybe a ten minute walk. It’s not bad for Austin.”

“Can I walk you home? Since I kept you so late,” he asks. Once again, you hesitate. Joel doesn’t seem like the typical frat guy you’ve come to fear since your time at school. He actually seems gentle and genuine. You turn the thought over a few more times before he throws his hands up. “‘S just an offer to make sure you get home safe. I’ll even carry your backpack for you if you want.” He offers and you smile. You take another second before handing him your heavy backpack. He slings it over his free shoulder and walks to the door to open it for you, keys jingling in your hand as you lock up the writing center for the night. The humid Texas night suffocates you the second you step out into the fading daylight.

“You always carry girls’ backpacks home?” You ask as you start walking in the direction of your apartment. Campus is mostly empty this time of night, everyone crawling home after class to pregame or cry or both. Squirrels patrol the sidewalks for any students who may want to hand them a piece from their bagel or sandwich. Someone honks their horn in distant standstill Austin traffic, and the sun slowly slides behind the Capitol. It’s peaceful.

“Only when I make ‘em read my shitty writing.” He says and you laugh.

“Your writing’s not bad, Joel. It’s actually very good. Essays are just the worst to write.”

“You like ‘em enough to work at the writing center.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I actually care about,” you shrug. “At this point, I’m a warm body with a clicky pen.”

“Woah there, Kafka. I think you’re a little more than that,” Joel laughs and you have to laugh too. Not only for the perfectly on brand joke but for the tone in his voice. The playful lilt makes your head feel fuzzy. “Alright then, if you don’t like essays and you don’t like Kerouac, what do you like? What do you wanna write?” He asks and you take a deep breath. It’s a question you’ve fielded more than enough times in your college career to know that not many people like your answer.

“I’m not sure yet. I like a little bit of everything.”

“Have you written anythin’ I would’ve read?”

“No,” you laugh. “Probably not.”

“Why’s that funny?” He asks and you shake your head.

“Because nobody wants to publish my work. It’s too… rough.”

“Rough?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah. Publishers either want the next Great American Novel or nothing at all, and I am not next Great American Novel material.”

“How do you know?”

“Because nobody’s publishing me.”

“Maybe, you’re not lookin’ in the right places,” he says. “‘M just sayin’ someone as smart as you has to have somethin’ someone will wanna take.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go holdin’ your breath on me, cowboy.”

“Why do you do that?” He asks suddenly and you stop to look at him.

“Do what?” You ask.

“Try and play it off whenever someone compliments you.” He says with glaring honesty. It sets you back in your heels but you quickly recover.

“You’ve only known me for a few hours. How do you know I’m not just incredibly humble?”

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “Could I buy you a drink and figure it out?” It could be the way he, somehow, sees right through you already or the way his brown eyes look in the sunlight but you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach. You purse your lips together and dare a step closer to him.

“Tell you what, if you get an A on this paper, I’ll let you buy me a drink.” You say.

“And if I fail?” He asks and you shake your head.

“You won’t fail.”

“But what if I do?”

“If you do, you have to…” you search your brain. “Carry my backpack home for me for a week.”

“You drive a hard bargain, ma’am.”

“But I take it Joel Miller’s a bettin’ man.”

“See, smarter than you think.” He quips and you roll your eyes.

“One thing at a time, lover boy.”

Joel ends up getting the highest grade on his essay out of anyone in his class. Dr. Phillips commends his dedication to bettering his first draft and tells him to keep up the good work. “Whatever you did to change this, keep it up.” She says when she places his graded essay on his desk. When he presents the A to you at the writing center, all you can do is applaud him and smile.

“I told you you’d pass.” You say, poking at his firm chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “Maybe I just needed a little motivation.”

“Oh, yeah? What was that?”

“I think I was promised a date.” He says cheekily and you nod.

“You were, and my mama raised me to be a woman of my word,” you smile. “Jenny, do you mind closing up for me tonight?” You ask the receptionist and she shakes her head.

“Not at all, darlin’. Have a good night.” She winks at you when Joel turns his back and you stick your tongue out at her.

Say what you will about the writing center but you think a date with a broad, tall, handsome cowboy is the best thing that could’ve come out of that hell hole.

[batsyheere]

Hello..If you don't mind me asking, can I ask, what are your top 7 (or top 10) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series/etc) and your top 10 favorite (fictional) characters from any media? Why do you love them all? Sorry if you've answered this questions before......

Oh, that's a fun question because it's constantly in flux. I get a hyperfixation binge and usually bounce around whatever I like because otherwise I get bored. But there are quite a few I go back to, and I always have a favorite character whether I like the media or not. So.

Top ten media? This is definitely not in order and I might ramble-

Danny Phantom

I come back to this one a little too often because of how the fandom has managed to make it so much more than the show- I love lore and worldbuilding and the way people have built off this show is fascinating to observe.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation // The Untamed

This is another I return to a lot. It's a story of how everything goes wrong, and while there is a villain at the end, ultimately the blame is on the collective characters. It's also neat to see so many adaptations of the original material. I also like to remember that I had no idea this was a novel about guys pining after each other because I was just looking for something interesting to read and it got recommended by a friend. Who said nothing. And then mentioned I was equally as dense as some characters.

Homestuck

This one will always have a place in my heart for being incredibly weird and weirdly influential. Despite the fact I haven't read it again in years, I recall so much about it and enjoy engaging with my fellows- I volunteered at a con once and saw the most gorgeous Karkat cosplayer, we had a nice conversation while I tried to get the system to read their ticket. The community of this fandom is a nice thing, especially since at least once or twice a year we can see who is still in the world.

Percy Jackson

Where most people get into mythology thanks to Rick Riordan, Greek mythology got me into Percy Jackson. Modern day interpretations of myths are so intriguing, even if some interpretations could be argued with. It's also funny that I got my first Percy Jackson book at a summer camp. (It is not a surprise that I now have an EPIC the Musical fixation.)

Lord of the Rings // The Hobbit

I'm a huge classic fantasy nerd and this was a way I bonded with my grandfather over the years before he passed. It's influenced a lot of how I interpret other takes on fantasy and sets such a high bar. I also like that it's an encouragement of hope and faith in the little things of life that make it worth the fight. I wrote a lot of high-school papers on Tolkien.

Batman / DC Comics

While I do love comics, I do have a returning fancy in the Gotham Knights and their allies. Especially since in a world filled with corruption, an unjust system and too many broken pasts, it shows a person can make something of themselves to help others rather than just hurt. And that it is never too late to turn onto a better path. Also, just like LOTR, I wrote a couple of papers on Batman in college.

Star Wars

I grew up on Star Wars. Even with this weird output to the franchise Disney is trying to put out, I feel there are parts of it that are great to come back to. If I had to pick specifics I would mention the Mandalorian, but I favor the era around the prequel trilogy- both before and after.

Critical Role / Dimension 20 / TAZ

If I could just say DND I would but I had to list the top three for me. As I mentioned before I'm a hug fan of worldbuilding and lore. I also really like complex characters who are neither good nor evil, just trying to go about their lives. Found family is also one of my favorite tropes, and these three pull that off effortlessly.

Howl's Moving Castle

Both the book and movie are fantastic, I enjoyed both forms of this story in a way that I only ever enjoyed the vast differences between the How To Train Your Dragon movies and books. I like how it's a good example of adapting a book without being entirely off-putting.

Arcane

Just barely making this list because the second season just came out. But honestly? Arcane is so good. It takes such an artistic approach to its animation and gives vibrancy to its characters you don't typically see outside video games or movies. The story writing and dialogue are excellent- I could rant all day about it.

And now, Top Ten Characters from media...

Shang Qinghua from SVSSS

So many reasons. Top three? Such an unreliable narrator, understandably a sell out and holds a better romance than the technically main character of the novel.

Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

He's on the sidelines of a lot of the main story as a mentor, brother, friend- despite being one of the most tragic characters in the entire timeline.

Stiles Stilinski from Teen Wolf

My friend dragged me into watching the show because she didn't want to watch alone and he was the most redeeming quality of it. The sarcasm, the wit, the untapped potential.

Dick Grayson // Nightwing from DC Comics

A complex character with an even more complex series of issues in his life that never let him have a moment to breath half the time. He has so much repressed rage it's funny he's considered the happy one.

Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

This one is basically me being way to empathetic with a character and another reason for therapy. He needs a hug.

Aizawa Shouta from My Hero Academia

As weird and "way too much" the fandom can be, Aizawa is worth it. Crazy and a mentor figure.

Taako from The Adventure Zone

Again, love complex characters. I also like convoluted pasts and people with intimacy issues who are also huge flirts.

Fai Fluorite from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles

This poor guy was my first "wow what a character" for way too many reasons to list. Probably the crippled sense of self worth.

Ruby Rose from RWBY

She has such a good character set up and had such a strong sense of self. That plot did NOT help, but she's coming out stronger for it.

Yor Forger from Spy X Family

This one is purely because I love pure of heart dumbasses with too much badass and not enough sense.

As much as I like certain pieces of media a lot it's not a guarantee that I like the characters, and vice versa. Anyway, thanks for letting me ramble! This is what is currently on my mind when it comes to immediate favorites, though I definitely love far too many pieces of media- a lot of anime, and a lot of fantasy.

[angelanimedesaray]

🍄🍓🎲

AAAH!!! HELLO!!! I always see you in my feed, I wasn't expecting you in my inbox, but I'm happy to see you here XD

Sooo, the questions. Yes. I am so sorry these are so long, I can't be short and sweet and to the point for anything, I swear, it's always just word vomit and -- I'm rambling again, let's get to it hahaha XD

🍄 A Headcanon for one of my favorite ships/Pairings. Sooooo I don't have a favorite ship/pairing, not really, for the AOT fandom, I'm just kind of vibing over here with most of them XD I'll enjoy Erwin/Levi Content one second, scroll two more posts down and oogle over a Hange/Levi, and then gasp and jealously drink in an OC/Levi art the next second while scribbling down the artist for future reference for the day I can finally afford to request some Levi and my OCs art (I have an OC in mind for every Levi x Reader Fic I've written that I imagine while I write). So it's more like a Levi x Anyone kind of headcanon:

I have always been a sucker for the thought that when Levi get's really comfortable with whoever he's with, and he's letting his guard down more and is cuddling regularly with his SO, that this is a common and favorite position:

Just, the hand running gently through his hair at the nape of his neck, arms wrapped tightly around one another, head pillowed on n their chest, it looks so comfy and warm and comforting for him and uuugggghhhhh I'm a sucker for it, it's my comfort soft thought/headcanon and I love it.

🍓 How did I get into fanfic. Soooo I was already known IRL for loving writing, mostly poetry at the time, and being a huuuuge star wars fan (I was usually the one people went to if they had a character or event question cause I KNEW MY STUFF). And a friend of mine came up to me one day at summer camp and asked for some help with a star wars fanfic she was writing since i knew character and canon/EU stuff so well, and she explained WHAT fanfic was to me, and after talking for a while we wrote it together, though we kind of parted due to creative differences/complete opposite styles, but I'd created a fanficnet profile putting the original character names from the story together with plans to post the fanfic we were writing, and I decided to just keep it and start writing my own stories, and that's how I started writing fanfic--and also how I got the penname AngelDesaray, two OCs that didn't really see the light of day. Well, Desaray got revamped into Zelina for my Star Wars fanfiction baby I still work on slowly to this day, but that's besides the point, heh.

🎲What stops me from writing more in my free time? I usually get in my own way a lot. My attention span has been really shot since college, it's hard for me to focus on one thing for a long time--it's part of why I started having multiple things going on at once, it helps me to focus if I have a video running or music playing, and three or four word documents and a social media website I can easily jump away from again open, because then there's enough going on that I oddly enough can focus (I used to get teased all the time by my parents for having my laptop open on my lap, texting someone on my phone, playing a NintendoDS Game, and watching a show all at once). Another issue is that I think I haven't 100% bounced back from my college burnout, but I really really miss my writing and stories, which puts me in this weird catch 22 where I'm just mentally tired and don't want to do anything, but i've been daydreaming of my story for literal hours and really want to get something on paper. Also sometimes I'm cursed with wanting to write plot heavy stuff but I'm in the middle of relationship building, or wanting to write action but I'm doing dialogue heavy chapters, or wanting to write relationship steamy stuff but there's a lot of plot stuff going on--etc etc. Its usually me and my attention span getting in the way, pretty much. Doesn't mean i don't want to really really bad or that I'm not thinking about it 24/7, cause I usually am, it's just hard for me to FOCUS these days once I have the white sheet in front of me.

Ask Game Here

[melliotwrites]

Hi! I’m writing my own music, and Adamandi is an inspiration. I’m just wondering, has there been any inspiration when it came to you two writing musicals? (Adamandi, The Art of Pleasing Princes, Ghost Story, and any other future musicals.) Such as, any movies, TV shows or any other musicals? I find the aesthetics and music in these musicals all so different and I love that! And the themes in these musicals are so interesting! (/vpos!)

Great question! It's hard to separate genuine inspiration from research, since once we get an idea we usually try to consume everything that's related to what we want to write to figure out what we wanna add to the cultural conversation. Sometimes we also get inspiration from a work because we don't like it and want to position our piece in opposition to that one. But for this post we'll try to keep it to Genuine Inspiration that we consumed before we wrote each piece (hey, this thing is cool, this helped me figure out how I wanna write my thing for the better.)

Maybe we'll break this up by show:

TAOPP

Fun light fantasy with heart that plays with the tropes of fantasy settings, a la classic DND settings, Six of Crows, Terry Pratchett

Mel took a class on the High Middle Ages and read On The Origins of Courtliness (from which the title is derived!) and The Ballad of Tristan and Isolde, which got sort of melangéd into the Princes court world- living and dying by the king's pleasure, etc.

Aesthetically, the TV show The Great? Mel watched it a little bit before writing Princes and the anachronistic dialogue + rules of court drama have something to do with it.

Not much musical inspo for this tbh, I think it was just our first go at Writing A Show Together so a lot of our influences were just other musical soundtracks we thought might be the vibe we were aiming for. (Probably Pippin, 35mm, Great Comet, etc..)

Similarly with lyrics, I wasn't really thinking of a lyrical style, but I think I based a lot of my song forms on Something Rotten as the other show I knew set in the same era (using the very loose definition of "the same era"). ~Mel

ADAMANDI GENERAL INSPO:

the usual dark academia medias (Maurice and Another Country were our favorites) and also attending undergrad at a dark academia ass college

Lots of folk horror! (The Wicker Man (1973) - was particularly fun for me in thinking about the Catholicism storyline -Mel)

Jordan Peele movies like Get Out and Us

For musicals, Passion was really inspirational in both tone and subject matter.

Lyrically, I tried to think about Falsettos and Sunday- very lyrically dense shows that portray the intricate vocabularies of a specific, often highly intellectual subculture. What shibboleths do academics use to identify who does and doesn't belong? And why is the word "shibboleth" so not singable :( I think really liking Matilda as a kid also had something to do with it. ~Mel

I looked at a lot of horror musicals for a research paper but didn't like them much. (Except Little Shop. I love Little Shop and kinned the dentist in high school.) So I guess that's inspiration but in a what-Not-to-do way? Which is how I stumble on a lot of "inspiration" - Elliot

ADAMANDI MUSICAL INSPO:

chamber pop, baroque pop (incorporating the orchestral/acoustic elements of "dark academia" movie soundtracks with alternative pop and rock that's associated with the dark academia aesthetic more thematically)

The Dresden Dolls/Amanda Palmer's music

swing, jazz, dark cabaret (for the 1930s vibe)

Murder ballads (e.g. American Murder Song)

also weirdly the soundtrack to the Yellowjackets TV show. I love the eerie vocals in them and the creepy use of body percussion/breath - Elliot

here's an early inspo playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wjhDj3ZzR01ghNfB03sYC?si=6f38f4c5f2ee43c7)

GHOST STORY

(more of a reading list since we're thinking top-down for this one!)

M. Butterfly by David Henry Hwang. I will never write anything as bangin' as "Being an Oriental, I could never be completely a man." - Elliot

Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection by Julia Kristeva

Stranger Intimacy by Nayan Shah

A View From the Bottom by Tan Hoang Nguyen

Ishtyle: Accenting Gay Indian Nightlife by Kareem Khubchandani

For musicals, Assassins and Parade

Arcadia and Follies are my touchstones for how the past and present can intersect onstage, and what got me excited about doing it ourselves! ~Mel

GHOST STORY MUSICAL INSPO

ragtime, jazz, Americana, blues, folk, country ! For inspo, trying to look for American folk music as close to 1880 as possible, but it's hard to find. Allowing myself to listen to stuff up til 1920.

Also alternative pop/rock/indie/whatever per usual. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0QwtUiwwZfc3TYMy0DarOq?si=cc9d5129d43b4aeb is my working inspiration playlist right now - Elliot