#it made me feel like a very shitty person :((

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[thedeskofaltoclef]

How I became The Desk of Alto Clef.

My response to a SCP Group designed around Hate and Bigotry who have targeted me and others in this community.

Nah, man, my daughter is dead.

It has been brought to my attention that there is a group of people on the internet who are fascinated with my fascination of Alto Clef and Meri. Hurtful and yet cute in a way so I think now I'll choose this time and these screen grabs from their discord to explain how I came to be 'The Desk of Alto Clef'.

My Daughter died six years ago and it sent me spiraling deep into the bottom of whatever bottle I could find.

I was completely prepared to take my own life and even had the things to 'finish the job' because my life had no meaning at that point. What was another statistic going to matter anyways, right?

It was in one of these dark, drunk moments with a gun when I fell across the Volgun's video on 'reality benders and you' and fell into a rabbit hole.

Drunkenly I fumbled around the wiki and learned more about this broken man known as Alto Clef.

A man whom I could relate to in my own way. A man who, no matter what he did, could never see his daughter as I will never be able to see mine. So thus, I became a very, very shitty cosplayer.

I like to believe that over the past four years my acting ability has increased to a sustainable level and as much as I joke about things I do try to stay humble about it. Though I like to think I've become better but I digress.

I love the lore of Clef and Meri, on or offsite, to the point that I am weird about it I know, but that's how I stay connected to my daughter. Writing the Deskverse is how I stay connected to my daughter.

I am also autistic which causes me to hyper fixate on Clef as a coping mechanism.

Because of this group of people I have greatly considered leaving the community and going back to my own personal solitude. Acting, Voice Acting, Cosplaying as Clef gave and still gives me something to live for again. I may not be this group's cup of tea but I do like to believe that I have helped others. My main goal has always been to uplift those who need uplifting. I do not want anyone to ever feel how I felt in my lowest and darkest moments.

The main story in the deskverse is about a father and a daughter torn apart by the actions of an abusive mother. My real life story.

I also have ZERO clue as to why I am being involved with misogyny or yuri things. If I have offended you in any way I do apologize.

I do not plan on posting the more 'suggestive' or 'lewd' responses they have made. Overly sexualized content does make me extremely uncomfortable.

This group of people have broken my heart into pieces. Seeing this list of images and names dragging me through the mud has already smashed my unstable self-esteem as it is.

At this time I do not plan on releasing any names associated with all of this because I am honestly tired of reliving the most horrid event of my life over and over because I, for whatever reason, do not fit what this group feels is acceptable of an actor/writer/fan.

I cannot say the same for the others in which they were assaulting.

In summary Alto Clef is an outlet for the pain I live with every day. I can never see, hold, hear, smell, or speak to my daughter. I have scars on my body from her mother that will never allow me to forget that life I had. I will always remember the taste of gunpowder but thankfully my drunk ass was too weak. If your going to be bad at something, be bad at that I suppose.

I will leave all of this with a final image from the copious list and the one that honestly hurts me the most. I am honestly a shy and reserved person and frankly it takes a lot for me to get out of my comfort zone. Not long ago I went to another SCP discord server because I wanted to meet new people and someone in there was awesome. I truly enjoyed my time with this person and just found them amazing. They were kind, open, willing to listen to my ideas, and gushed over Numberonedoggo. I thought I had finally made a new friend on my own. I was apparently wrong.

Art, from some of my favorite artists, was made for the sole reason of mocking me specifically. To laugh at me for finding joy in something that gives me purpose. Something I use to drive away the darkness.

No age, disorder, illness, or reason at all can be acceptable for anyone to act in this way. You are all a mockery of everything the SCP community should stand for.

-TheDesk

[rensukepie]

all i want for christmas is…

oliver aiku x reader

all you wanna come back to after a bad day is your loving boyfriend aiku.

contains : smut, p in v, breeding kink, spit, cunnilingus, very lovey dovey aiku, romantic aiku, kissing (a lot of it…), established relationship, touchy aiku, reader is sad and aiku comforts her :3

a/n : this was inspired by @aikuposer ‘s post!

minors dni

it was always him.

he’s the first person, and the only person you see when you come back from a shitty work day, the person you go over the grocery list with, the person who sees you cry, he’s the person you love. no matter the situation, it would always be him.

so when you come home from work during the christmas shopping season with puffy eyes and tears all over your cheeks, he’s worried sick!

….

“I-i didn’t mean to make her upset… she wasn’t clear about what she wanted…” you say in between sniffles with your voice cracking because of the heavy lump caught up in your throat.

“oh sweet girl… it’s okay, don’t cry… im here for you, that lady’s so stupid for that! she should’ve been more clear about what she was trying to get for her kid...” he’s wiping away your tears with his thumb, pulling you into a long hug.

“k-kiss me aiku… please… i missed you…”

and he does. his soft lifts against yours, his hands roaming your hips.

“gonna make you feel better, yeah? you’ll let me? hate to see my girl all sad…”

….

he kisses you a little bit more on your lips again before moving more down to kiss the other areas of your body, his hands intertwined with yours.

he finds your inner thigh, kissing it some more before undressing you, you clothed cunt on display for him.

normally, he’d start teasing you for the damp spot in the middle, but today was special, filled with love for you, words of reassurance aimed at you.

he kisses your clothed cunt one last time before taking your panties off, spitting on your soaked pussy before licking your clit with his skilled tongue.

“a..aiku! you’re so messy… fffuck!”

“sorry.. can’t help myself around you… you’re too pretty…”

….

“mmf—! a…aiku…faster….please…”

he picks up the pace just a little, but enough to have you whimpering a little louder, hands playing with his hair softly.

“you taste so good, my pretty… so beautiful..”

“g-gonna cum soon… mm.. aiku…”

“cum on my tongue for me baby… don’t gotta ask… just let go..”

….

he kisses you again, tasting yourself on your tongue before he undresses himself.

aiku rubs his cock back and fourth on your wet cunt to lube it up before entering inside of you, making you let out a couple of whimpers and moans all for him.

“mm…! aiku….”

he takes your whimper as a sign and finally puts his cock inside of your tight pussy, a deep groan leaving his mouth at the feeling.

“your pussy was made for my cock.. fuck—…”

….

he continues to thrust himself into you with your legs wrapped around his waist reaching to his muscular back. he can feel himself getting closer to the edge along with you.

“gonna fill your pussy with all my cum… you want that, hm?”

“mhm… want your cum aiku…. pleaseeee…” you say desperately, nibbling on his neck.

he takes his thumb and uses it to rub your sensitive clit, making you clench around his cock.

“shit—! gonna cum in you, doll… ohh fuckk—“

you cum right after him again and he pulls out, his cum dripping out of you.

“I love you, aiku…thank you for making me feel better…”

“I love you too baby, but we should shower… we look like a mess..”

….

he prepares a nice warm bath for the both of you with your favorite body wash and shampoo. who knows, maybe he’ll fill you with his cum nice and deep inside of you again?

…

[velvetvexations]

"Women do traditionally feminine stuff because they are afraid of the men in their lives." Hilarious, because for me growing up all of the worst misogyny I faced was at the hands of other women, usually family and friends, and whenever I caved into the pressure to do feminine things I didn't want to it was specifically because I was seeking the approval of other women. None of the men in my life have ever forced femininity on me the way the cis women have. The people who made fun of me for dressing "badly" and not shaving and spread rumors I was secretly a boy were all girls. I kept trying to get into makeup, not because I wanted boys to think I was cute(all the guys who've shown interest in me have actually liked me just fine the way I am), but because I wanted the women around me to see me as one of them and I never felt like I was.

Even when women aren't pressuring me to do girly things I still feel the pressure because I'm the only woman I know who doesn't and it makes me feel like a freak. I don't care what the men around me think, a guy getting weird about my not shaving or wearing makeup would be instantly disqualified from my dating pool without a second thought, being raised a feminist very quickly inoculated me against giving a shit what men think, but the women? My whole life I have been trying so hard to be one of them and it's still hard work to ignore the annoying internalized patriarchal cisheteronormative bullshit in my head making me think I need to be more like them and less like me. And I genuinely don't know if there will ever come a day when I can hang out in a group of women and not feel like an imposter just waiting to be discovered and killed.

And I know that my experiences aren't universal any more than the person who originally said that's are, but like. It's just wild to me that trans people especially will chalk all of the pressure to conform to gender roles up to shitty men and completely ignore how heavily the patriarchy incentivizes women to not only violently police each other's femininity but also destroy ourselves seeking the approval of the very women who are violently policing our femininity.

EXACTLY.

I love cis women who our allies with all my heart and soul, but we need to stop being desperate for their approval. The cis women who DO care about us would be the first to admit they as a category need to do a lot better, so why do we pussyfoot around them being just as horrible to us as cis men can be?

With trans women it feels like we're just trying to link arms under the exact same oppressive patriarchy because it feels like that's what being a woman is, haha yeah, men hate us, I mean they hate us in different ways and you hate us too but what matters above all else is that we're the exact same thing right? Oh, sorry, like seventy percent of you don't believe that and are violently disgusted by the thought of coming anywhere near me? But I also fear men!

And trans men...

"Women are soooo scared of me, yeah you better cover your drink around trans men too, I mean not that I would do anything personally, but I could, because I'm a man, and that means I could oppress and hurt you, theoretically!"

Listen, bro, most cis women aren't scared of you, they're laughing at you, and frankly so am I, not because it's impossible for a trans man to be a person who's intimidating, but because you're so needy for validation that you've developed a patriarchy fetish you can't turn off.

None of this is to say we should ignore the crimes of cis men or that cis women aren't also another marginalized class, and again, I love cis women who're trans allies, they're amazing, wonderful people and I would never want to leave them behind or seem ungrateful.

[yandere-daydreams]

pretty personal, but wanted to thank you for helping me (quite some years ago) come to terms with my s.a. experience. the way that you write unhealthy power dynamics, rape and dubcon is very authentic (in sense if not in form) and seeing it clearly expressed by you that those shifty, difficult to prove as s.a. encounters ARE coercion was very helpful. dubcon writing gets a terrible rep, but imo it's ironically very informative when done with intent (as in without excusing the actions as normal because they are between partners. or because you didn't excplicitly say no. and other many things that muddy the waters).

like. getting to read something that clearly acknowledges s.a. as s.a. and then also reframes it felt almost like reclaiming it.

i was reading geiman's allegations transcript and it brought up shitty traumatic memories, which in turn reminded me of how you were the writer that made the horrible lonely shameful experience (because surely if you let it happen to you it's partly your responsibility. surely you could have been more explicit in your no. surely you being dependent on the person for your survival had nothing to do with why you had to convince yourself your s.a. was totally consensual sex) feel less lonely. so. thank you.

anon this is such a heartbreaking and reflective and beautiful ask to receive but you MUST understand that it's currently sandwiched between about twenty-five monsterfucking discourse asks on either side. there are benefits and downfalls to using this platform and one of them is the lack of delineation between serious asks and. well. the rest of them.

no but seriously, i do feel like horror is a genre that gets discredited pretty often despite being one of, if not the most helpful types of fiction in terms of working through traumatic subject matter. i love romance, but it kind of has a habit of glorifying unhealthy behavior or justifying dynamics that shouldn't end happily with the ultimate goal of preserving veneer of positivity that is simply,,, detached from the events being depicted. in horror, there's a little more room to acknowledge horrific things as horrific because they're supposed to horrific, and the complicated feelings and catharsis you receive from that acknowledgement is, like, the entire point. it feels obvious that a spade should be a spade and that bad things are bad, and yet, here we are.

that explanation kind of sucked and my thoughts on the subject are very abstract, but thank you for sending this in <3 i'm glad my silly little blog could help in any way you needed it to.

[trashogram]

Why do I feel like, The reason Helluva boss lacks world building and continuity is because the creators are focusing too much on the comedy part of the show and not the, well... Everything in the show...

Said by my Friend who critiqued the show before. I can kinda agree on that.

(I think a great example of it is, why the succubus go to Earth in the first place, and why does Asmodeus even want from Earth when the souls all eventually go to the pride ring ONLY (like why the fuck does he have crystal that allow access to the human realm, when he gets little to no benefits from it?????). Also btw the 'because they can and will' reason is not a good reason, it's a shitty excuse, because if that is an excuse, what is to say that sinners can try to go out the pride ring? Because they can? Then WHAT THE FUCK is the point of keeping all of them in the pride ring?????)

(Also a little gripe, it's me personally. But humans in this show are waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too stupid, that it's fucking ridiculous how little to no brain power are made inside their minds...)

Helluva Boss lacks world-building because that’s not what the creators are interested in. I also think the creators expect their audience to have pre-established knowledge of Christianity and a shared irreverent perception of the religion, which is a huge oversight.

I presume that the reason Asmodeus enables incubi/succubi to go to Earth is because they require human lust and/or sexual fluids to live. As the Sin of LUST, Asmodeus’s job is to perpetuate overpowering sexual desire in humans that goes against the righteous path laid out by God. Part of that is sending succubi/incubi to prey on humans by encouraging sexual transgression, draining a human’s life-force, and impregnating them with hellspawn.

This promotes human suffering which is the reason why Hell and its inhabitants exist.

But like you said, humans are far removed from the other rings and Sins of Hell. They’re also completely inconsequential and stupid, existing only to die or precipitate shenanigans when the writers need them to.

(And on top of all that, Helluva Boss not only expects you to know all of that without telling you, but also expects you to throw out parts or all of that information when it benefits the direction they want characters and their relationships to go. Viv wanted the audience to root for Fizzarolli/Asmodeus, so she chucked out the very purpose of Asmodeus’s existence to make Asmodeus a good person. And a good person wouldn’t want others to suffer, would they?)

[deadheaddaisy]

So anyone who follows me knows I am 100% a SatoReed shipper. But knowing this @pearlypairings and @more-better-words raised this possibility, and I've got to say, I can see it. It'll never replace my OTP - which really only kicks into gear in hypothetical Season 5 in my fics anyway - so let me brain dump on y'all.

Talas is a woman who knows what she wants, and as much as she's using Reed to get to the sphere, she's unlikely to be your standard honeypot operative. She's Andorian; while sex is nothing to be ashamed of, it's also not to be used lightly. She's unlikely to sleep with someone who doesn't interest her. And let's be real, Malcolm is very interesting to a soldier of her caliber.

OP is right; it's the one time on the show where Reed is shown as completely relaxed around a woman in whom he's interested. (Yes, he's completely relaxed around Hoshi outside of the enchiladas scene; they have incredible chemistry right from the frostbite scene, they really riff off and get each other, there were lots of little clues that more was brewing - but it never actually turned into anything on-screen.) So it's entirely plausible that Reed and Talas would have made one hell of a power couple if she hadn't been using him to get to the sphere.

I do think that if Talas had slept with Malcolm, she would have been ashamed of deceiving him. I don't think she's built to be a spy; she's a soldier and she doesn't like playing games (and neither did Shran, both likely feeling that it impugned their honour). I can get behind Reed & Talas hooking up and simply enjoying each other with the understanding that they weren't planning a relationship, but it being more fun than a standard one night stand.

There would very likely have been a meeting of minds and spirits - military backgrounds, both trained and skilled in intelligence and security work, both tactical officers on their respective starships, dedicated to their work and their crews, ready to do whatever they must to safeguard their species, but ready to work together to achieve their goals. Giving up their honour and ethics with a struggle and then only because it's what's needed for their missions to succeed, but not happy about it.

And let's be real, they are both freaking hot AF under those uniforms.

I think Talas' ulterior motives rattled her because she wasn't expecting to respect Reed as much as she did. She might have gone in with an attitude of, a one-night-stand with a soldier, okay sure, if nothing else she gets a decent lay out of it - and then she meets this man who's very much like her, and like Shran, dedicated and intense, a man of integrity - and it becomes more complicated than a simple honeypot.

And looking at relationships, he's not with anyone, there's no cheating, so why the hell not? He's a lot more relaxed and comfortable around Talas than he is with the Viznian (?) woman, the Orions, T'Pol during pon farr (ignoring the wisp since that wasn't actually him), etc.

That said, I'm not sure anything between Malcolm & Talas would necessarily be a long-term, committed relationship, given their similarities - I do think Malcolm needs someone who's not exactly like him, because I think he's quite fragile under that tough exterior, and I think Hoshi brings that combination of strength and warmth and implicit trust he needs to both give and take from a partner.

At the same time, that no-bullshit attitude of Talas' I think might also have helped Malcolm overcome his shitty self-esteem. Game recognises game, and Talas isn't going to waste her time seducing a weakling, in mind or spirit (his body is clearly not weak in any way). So I reckon she could have made great strides in flicking that switch that made him not just confident in his abilities, but in himself as a person.

So yeah, if I were to choose anyone other than Hoshi to ship with Malcolm? I'd be far more likely to ship Talas than pretty much anyone other than Shran (sorry Shranchers) (we were outright robbed of more Shran-Reed interactions and I bet there would have been flames on that bridge in Season 5 if Shran had joined the crew).

Admittedly I have read some really good Mayes, and again, the military background comes to the fore - I can see it playing a big role if he were to go for someone not Hoshi, who I think is both strong and gentle in the way he needs; but if not Hoshi, I'd really see him with Talas or Shran and then maybe Hayes before anyone else.

And the Andorian polycule opens up so many possibilities, not everyone would have to be super tough universal soldier, after all. So yeah, Malcolm and Talas are very much within the realm of possibility in my book. Hell, now I have brain tingles about a 6-strong squad, ffs.

(Of course, only if Hoshi is not in the picture, I'm not throwing over my OTP for anyone else, this is purely a what if exercise.)

Criminal how these two never went anywhere. They are. Made for each other. The trust issues. The military family. The unashamed flirting. It's the first time Reed has ever been normal around a woman in his entire life. She cured his daddy issues with 1 sentence.

She would have been the type of fiery and strong woman who always has strong opinions and wants to decide everything, and he would have been the "sure honey, whatever you want, your wish is my command :)" kind of man. UGH. We suffered a robbery.

[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

three ways to piss off each seventeen member 🤷 :

hyung line I maknae line

(apply them at your own risk hehe)

scoups:

absently nod while he is still talking and then go all, "sorry, did you say something?"

cut him off while he is still speaking by saying he is wrong.

admire his watch and then ask him if he got a great deal for it at the thrift store.

jeonghan:

nag him to talk about his feelings all the time.

'accidently' pay attention to everyone except for him.

be a very very loud karen while he is with you.

joshua:

intentionally picking a fight in group settings in front of him.

throw trash into the trash can but miss it by a centimeter.

nitpick continuously while he cooking.

jun:

always give him a side-eye when he tries to be silly.

never 'notice' his acts of service and then complain that he doesn't show you that he cares.

say 'why are you being so emotional' when he tries to talk about his feelings.

hoshi:

put the bare minimum effort when he is trying to teach you a dance move

be a 'well actually' type of mansplainer and create an awkward atmosphere.

dampen his mood when he is excited about something.

wonwoo:

touch his things without permission.

force him to go out every night.

insist that ramen is unhealthy and not let him have any. pick a fight about it if you have to.

woozi:

mess with his google calendar.

force him to be late to his next appointment by 10 minutes.

fidget next to him all the time.

[rileys-battlecats]

was trying to figure out why I feel so Wrong rn and I think it's because I didn't follow my usual daily routine like At All and now my brain is freaking out. woke up at a vastly different time, had entirely different tasks throughout the day, took a nap at a weird time (to make up for the fact I had about 3 hours of sleep last night), zero human contact for the past 15 hours, and ate different food from usual (various leftovers from social events/thanksgiving, instead of cooking for myself like normal). and before I really realized that these were all things that were Bad For My Brain I was just wandering around my house like "why do I feel like garbage?? I've literally been outside so much today my brain should be happy"

ANYWAY here's to me not remembering I have issues with unstructured living because my days have been so similar for the past 4ish years that I straight up Forgot that things being too different too fast makes me crazy ✌️

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

honestly it's been really healing being back to actively contributing things and writing out thoughts on tumblr the last week or so, because while twitter tends to be easier for me to write out Thoughts on without getting overwhelmed, the environment in the twitter fandom circles i'm interested in is not only infested with antis but cliqueish in a way that is caustic to the fucking soul if you try to express a thought that's more than three sentences long--a hundred times over if you're autistic in slightly the wrong way--and it's incredibly reassuring to come back to an environment where the very kindest and most inclusive people toward you are not clearly thinking the r-slur the entire time they interact with you lmao

[kjzx]

I've been playing slitherio these past few days, and after some time messing around with nicknames and my own experience with the stuff, I've realized anger is something very easy to weaponize. On my second attempt of having "trans rights" as a nickname I killed a huge ~5k point worm as a teenie tiny 200 point worm simply because it was so desperate to kill me specifically. Anger makes your life harder, but it also makes people really unwise. I fucking bet this is in "the art of war", even though I haven't read it.

[guinevereslancelot]

how do i stop feeling like i'm in trouble all the time fr. sitting here on my lunch break like everyone's gonna be soooo mad when u get back...from lunch...which you are allowed to have.....(?)

[vertin-is-the-frog-guys]

guys am i a bad person a person i absolutely despise got put into a mental hospital and im not sad for her

[ikishima]

.

[daz4i]

i literally can't think about life or the future for more than a few seconds without getting so distressed that i shut down. surely this is a good sign for things to come

[blujayonthewing]

myrkul: hi I'm an unambiguously evil death god of cruelty and suffering who has never had anything to do with you until right this moment, would you like to align yourself with me in exchange for the power to win this midtier combat you're already in the middle of winning and no other clear benefits whatsoever

eachthighern: um hey hi it's me your current patron, you know, the good god of protection and light who has only ever given you unwavering strength and hope and support through all your darkest hours and also extraordinarily powerful magic powers and the ability to heal? I am still here and have never stopped being here and I love you very specifically and personally? remember?

the warlock: hmm..... hmmmmmmm