#only the bigger shirts are allowed to stay how they are

[mxelliott]

i have found out that i don’t have a perfect shirt size i just fucking hate it when i can feel the fabric touching my shoulders

[edward-munson]

never have i ever

Summary: You're playing the game "Never have I ever" at Dustin's birthday party and it surprises you when Eddie reveals a secret of his personal life.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, masturbation, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3.1k

You're only at this party because it's Dusin Henderson's 18th birthday. He thinks he's old enough to drink, so he makes sure all of his friends are drinking too. Except, he's only adept at drinking beer. Not like you, though. You like anything strong. You can drink beer, cocktails, tequila, anything alcoholic.

As you sip on your piña colada, one made especially by Jonathan, you watch as the younger boys play D&D at the bar. On the other side of the table, Eddie is smoking weed with his friends as they watch their friends playing. You try not to be obvious with your glances that are being directed at the metalhead, but you might be failing doing so because of the drinks you had.

Steve is trying to get your attention as he talks about his date, and Robin can't seem to listen to him because she's too busy checking Vickie out. They've been going on dates, but she's too invested and doesn't hide it. He's babbling and rambling, not hiding his excitement, and you feel bad you're not exactly listening to him.

The Hideout was rented just for Dustin's birthday, so you're allowed to listen to whatever you guys felt like. You and your friends are old enough to drink, and you're all taking care of the younger group in front of you. Will doesn't drink and Eleven isn't fond of it. Max is the one along with Mike who likes to try on cocktails and Jonathan makes sure he adds enough ounces of alcohol.

"Okay, you know what? If they're going to play a boring game, let's just play our own game!" Robin says as soon as Steve shuts his mouth

You both ask her what game it is and she seems excited about it. "Never have I ever"

Steve rolls his eyes and mumbles something and you just snort.

It's not like it's a forbidden game, but it sure can be fun.

She gathers every adult, including Eddie, who clearly couldn't be bothered by the idea. His friends decided to stay and watch the youngsters playing. As you all sit around a bigger table, Robin and Nancy spread shot glasses to each one of you, placing a good amount of tequila on each glass.

You don't protest, you like the idea of playing something like that. And it's funny how some of them, like Eddie and Steve, look like they're afraid of doing it.

You nudge the curly haired man beside you and whisper "You seem pretty worried"

He nudges you back and mocks you, shaking his head softly "Nah, just not the biggest fan of these games"

"Okay! Listen. I'll start and the round goes on to the right. Don't bullshit us and don't be soft" Robin shouts from the other side of the table, preparing herself before starting it.

They're all telling off things based on their own experiences, until Argyle decides to be the greatest menace ever. He started saying specific stuff that weren't related to him, rather to find out if people have ever done anything. The tequila shots were smaller so you all wouldn't die from alcohol poisoning.

You started to feel giddy, your cheeks were burning red and every time Eddie would bump his arm against yours, you would feel squirmy in your seat.

"Never have I ever been given a blowjob" Jonathan said and the guys took their shots. Argyle wouldn't stop laughing at this point, but mostly because he was drunk and high on weed.

It took a few seconds for you all to notice the fact that Eddie didn't take his shot and all eyes were pointed at him. He was leaning against his chair with a bandana over his head, so he wouldn't feel hot from drinking. His t-shirt was wet from the drink he missed and spilled over it. From your point of view, he looked hot as fuck.

"What? Yeah, I've never been sucked before and I'm not ashamed. I've barely hooked up with girls before" He seemed unbothered from saying the truth and it took them by surprise.

At least Steve and Jonathan were. Argyle, not so much. They've been friends for a while and they've shared experiences before. Meaning they didn't have many, but the fact no one ever wanted to give Eddie a blowjob seemed kinda off to you somehow.

"Huh, it's their loss" You murmured but loud enough for him to hear you

"What's that?" He rested his elbow over the table and leaned his head against his hand, having your full attention.

Eddie was holding a smug on his face and his lips were curved upwards. He pretended he didn't listen to you, but he knows what he heard.

"Uh– I mean" You blew through your closed mouth, trying to disguise your temptation of complimenting him. "Ah, they're all just stupid for not doing that"

"Really?" He pushes, biting his inner lower lip as he still muses towards you.

As you cross your arms in front of you, Eddie laughs at the way you react to his teasing and sits back straight on his chair. The game doesn't take too long to end, especially when Nancy says she's feeling kind of sick, and Vickie is about to throw up on the table.

You all scatter around, getting up and collecting the shot glasses. You don't feel sick, but you sure feel funny and like you're about to float from the amount of tequila you just had.

As soon as you turn on your heels to go back to the table, Eddie is standing there in front of you, holding a bottle of water. He's still wearing the bandana and it makes him look gorgeous from how the lights are hitting him. Without his bangs, you can see him more clearly. How his eyes are blown from the weed he smoked, the way his eyebrows are perfectly shaped, just like the shape of his plump lips.

You don't think he wouldn't notice, but he tilted his head to the side and gave you a sided smile. The kind of smile you give someone when you're about to mess with them, when you want to taunt them.

"Why are you looking at me that way, sunshine? Something wrong with my face?"

He follows you as you start to walk towards the table and you shake your head, hiding your thoughts as you drink your water. Eddie doesn't even let you sit without pulling a chair for you. He sits next to you, facing you. He crosses his arms and slumps back.

When he does that, your eyes literally drop a few inches to watch how he just sits there with his legs spread open, almost an invitation to what you've been thinking about.

You almost choke on the water from drinking it too fast. He takes the bottle off your hand and closes it, keeping his previous demeanor.

"Okay, now you're just acting weird. What the hell happened?" He sounds a little concerned, but the fact he's sitting like that in front of you doesn't help it.

You shrug, taking a deep breath. You cross your legs and lick your lips playfully before opening your mouth to speak. This small action sends a shock wave through his own body but it lasts a fraction of time.

You pull your chair closer to his, your legs standing in the middle of his. Eddie shifts his eyes to your legs and the way you are looking at him.

"You wouldn't wanna know what it's like to get a blowjob, Eddie?" You try not to sound like you're enticing him, or even provoking him. But the context says otherwise.

He laughs nervously, diverting his eyes from you. He looks at the ceiling and sighs. You see him taking a deep breath, looking back at you.

"What is this conversation about, really? None of the girls I've gone out with would wanna suck a freak off. They just wanted to hook up because I'm sort of famous in town. And I've had sex like two times. So really, don't bother with the subject"

He played defensive, like he was offended. You didn't intend to sound as if you're joking and making fun of him for not having much sex.

"No– Eddie, I'm not trying to make fun of you. You're such a grumpy little man! Come here" You quickly get up and pull him by his hand, following to the back of the bar.

You knew the whole place. You've been at the bar a hundred times and he talked about the back of the bar where he and his band use as backstage. They had set up a few furniture including one couch.

One you pushed him to after you closed the door and locked it. He looked at you terrified but amused at the same time, because he had no idea what was happening.

You sat beside him, resting your arm on the back of the couch. His brows were furrowed and when you noticed how pretty his lips were you couldn't hold it back.

"We're friends, right? You trust me?" You ask, your voice a little shy and your tone a little lower.

He nodded and tilted his head, again. "Yeah, sunshine. If we weren't, you know I wouldn't let you fucking kidnap me and bring me here" He jokes.

It's the way he calls you sunshine. The way he looks tenderly at his friends and how he treats everyone. It's so fucking cute. It's not even the alcohol talking and you know that.

You also know sometimes he throws glances at you, but you know he wouldn't do shit about that. He's too afraid of committing, too afraid of being heartbroken. He just doesn't know what he's actually missing.

And then you laugh like you're embarrassed, your head is hanging low because you can't seem to face him right now. But he pinches your chin carefully, looking right at you. His fingertips aren't that soft and you know it's from playing guitar. They also smell like smoke.

"What is it?" He asks again, pleading chocolate brown eyes staring into your soul. You look back at him and move your face until you're just a few inches away from him. "Oh?"

At first, he seems confused and kind of lost. But it's only a matter of seconds until he's the one taking you in and kissing you softly. He tastes like tequila and cherry from the gum he was chewing. It's intoxicating, it's a mix of feelings for you. He's still holding your chin. He uses the other one as leverage and holds your neck. You're anxious to taste him, literally.

The euphoria hits you like a train wreck when he lets you pull his hair a bit. He tries not to gasp from the touch, and he instinctively bites a small bit of your lower lip. It sends you to a frenzy and your other hand flies up to his crotch. Obviously, he's hard. Not just from the touch, but from the kiss. From how you hold his hair.

Eddie never had a girl hold his hair like that, he barely had a girl that interested in him. And he likes the feeling of being desired, it's different. And knowing you, he feels like he can trust you.

So he lets you touch him. Both your mouths never leave, only adding more fuel to his fire. You notice his behavior and try to unzip his jeans without being concerned about breaking the kiss.

He helps you out lifting his hips so you can get rid of it, trying to focus on kissing him and touching him. You love the feeling of having someone this horny for you. You feel his hardness grow through the fabric and you can feel the dampness already.

"You're so hard for me, Eds" You whisper hovering your lips over Eddie's and he grunts in response.

Your little evil laugh makes him more turned on for you, and his first instinct is to pull your hair, but not with force. He pulls you back a little, enough for him to have a look at you, the way you stare back at him with lust in your eyes.

"You're so gorgeous" He mumbles, his eyes sparkly. When you grip his hard cock tight, he hisses at the touch and closes his eyes forcefully.

He's still holding your hair and when you do that again, he grips it tighter. He's playing your game. Only he's the one getting something out of it. At least today.

You hold his underwear and pull it down, watching as his dick springs free from the fabric. Red tip, already leaking and begging for more of your attention. Eddie doesn't let go of you, only enough for you to start sliding down the couch, kneeling in front of him. You look at him before looking at his cock, it's trimmed and it looks gorgeous. It's already begging for your attention.

The alcohol in your system seems to evaporate immediately. Eddie glances down at you with concerned eyes, like he's afraid you won't do it. But you glance up and nod, reassuring him you will do it, smiling just before you start giving him the pleasure he deserves.

You lick a stripe through his shaft, tasting him for the first time. He didn't know the feeling until then, and it made him pulse like he never did before. One hand holding your hair back and the other one gripping tightly on the edge of the couch.

Your tongue savors his precum until you reach the tip and give it a small kiss. You look at him again, he's trying to hold back his whimpers. You know it's hard for him to handle the touch as it is his first time. Usually something this provocative causes a man to last only a few minutes.

But you take your time, taking his cock inside your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. It's not your first time, so you don't gag anymore.

You bob your head up and down a few times, sucking him and the liquid coming off of him. You use one hand to grip his balls, and the other one you leave resting over his stomach. He seems to love it.

He watches you carefully, he looks at how your tongue roams up and down his length, reaching the tip again, swallowing thickly. You feel it pulsing every now and then, precum spreading all over it until you suck it in again.

"Jesus fuck" Eddie moans. He lets out a loud, unsteady breath. His hand is gripping your hair carefully and if you didn't know any better, he's just being gentle when you know he would pull it harder. He was almost melting from the feeling of your mouth. 

You take him back and forth, rolling your tongue around it. You lick his cock down and reach his balls, sucking it until your mouth is full and he struggles to keep his eyes open because he wants to watch it all.

You hold his shaft with your delicate hand and pump him, your mouth helping out with the job. You sank back down lower, taking every inch of him, looking up at him. Your lips slid perfectly around his skin and it made him even harder. He starts to buckle his hip when he glances at you, seeing lust in your eyes again.

Your eyes are blown from pleasure and Eddie wonders if you’re feeling the heat between your legs as well. He wants to know if your pussy is wet from doing all this with him and he can’t help but thrust against your mouth. He starts slowly, until you’re feeling comfortable having his entire length in the back of your throat. 

Eddie watches when you let him fuck your mouth mercilessly, feeling his tip hitting your throat. He can't hold back his grunts, letting his head fall back to the couch. His eyes are now closed and he's in a bliss of pleasure.

The quiet room is filled with the sound of his cock in your mouth, Eddie moaning huskily and you whimpering from your own pleasure. No one cares you're both there, no one even knows you're there. He holds your head and hits his length in a perfect spot that makes him shiver.

He stops his thrusts because he wants you to finish for him. You grip the base of his cock and grip it tightly, letting the blood rush to the tip, and you suck him hard. You hollow your cheeks and suck him hard enough for him to feel lightheaded.

“Godfuckingdamn” Eddie pleads.

It's how it makes his heartbeat fasten quickly and his cock is almost exploding from the pleasure. You know he's going to cum because his legs start to falter and shake. His hand is gripping your hair tighter than before and he's buckling his hips upwards.

It comes with the loudest grunt he lets out. He fills in your mouth and the warm liquid washes over your throat as you swallow all of it. His dick pulses incessantly and you don't let go of him for a second.

Eddie feels kind of drained, but in a very good way. He's still on a high, but he feels relieved. His entire body is shaking, his legs are weak and his hands fall on top of the couch. You take the last bit of his cum and let go of him.

You think it's cute to see his cheeks flushed, painted in red. He's breathing heavily and you can't quite describe how hot he looks right now. His dick is still a little hardened but less than before. You get yourself up and help him get his pants done and sit back on the couch.

Eddie looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's seen. And it's not just because of what happened. He likes the thought of kissing you, of having you blowing him. He kissed you without any hesitation, tasting a bit of himself in your mouth.

"That was mind-blowing" He heaves, resting his forehead against yours and you laugh softly.

"You wanna go back to the party?" You ask, getting up from the couch, ready to open the door. But he pulls you back and holds your hand.

He shakes his head, showing off a little bit of shyness in his features. "I wanna take you home and kindly fuck you"

It makes you laugh at how much he can still manage to be such a gentleman when saying something dirty. But you agree to that and you both leave, driving to his apartment.

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel O'Hara blurb because I'm obsessed

UPDATE: Part 2

I love the DBF!Miguel O'Hara scenarios that have you sneaking around and fucking while your family is around and unaware BUT consider:

DBF!Miguel O'Hara who offered to let you stay at his place when you moved out for college. You don't have to worry about rent or anything because he'll take care of everything. He'll take care of you.

It all seemed so good and innocent at the start. You even got to have the place to yourself most of the days because of his demanding job. Miguel said you can bring your friends over but no romantic partners or flings allowed. Not that you had anyone in that way when you're so busy yearning for Miguel. You've had a crush on him since forever and every time you tried to get into a relationship or have sex with anyone, anyone your age, your mind always compared them to Miguel. For the longest time you were hopelessly yearning, convinced that he'd never return your feelings until one night.

You were lying in bed trying to catch your breath after fucking your pussy raw with your vibrator thinking about how hot Miguel looked that morning in his nice suit, ready for an important business meeting he had. You were about to fall asleep when you felt the bed dip and suddenly Miguel was pulling you close to him, your back against his chest. Your bare ass still wet from your own slick, flushed against his erection and the only barrier that separated you was the same sexy suit you had been fantasizing about. He was so big, he felt bigger than how you imagined him and your cunt throbbed, seemingly ready to be used and abused again.

He kissed your neck, licking and sucking, marking you as his while murmuring how long he had been wanting to do this. He heard you moaning his name when you thought he was going to come home late and he immediately called in his office to tell them he's taking a sick leave. He's going to spend that time fucking you, on every surface in the house, making up for all those times you teased him in the mornings just walking around in an oversized shirt and no bra. You didn't even wear shorts around him, gave him a show of your cute ass, trying to reach mugs from the high kitchen shelves. He had to go shamefully jerk off in his car just so he didn't have to go to work with a very obvious boner. How'd he explain that to your dad when he inevitably bumped into him in the office? His precious little daughter living under the same roof as this pervert?

Hearing you moan his name while you fucked your slutty cunt was the last straw, all his self restraint went out the window. He took your vibrator from your hand and let it overstimulate your swollen clit but immediately take it away when he feels you almost going over the edge. You whine and beg him to let you cum but he just laughs. He promised you'll cum plenty of times, more than you can handle.

Of course he eats your pretty pussy out and fuck you all night in so many different ways, in positions you never even heard of. Your pussy was swollen and oversensitive, and you're pretty sure your cervix is deliciously bruised. Miguel kisses your pussy as an apology but gets distracted and tongue fucks you and makes you cum again.

You slowed down some time in the morning. Miguel made you breakfast but soon enough you found yourself bent over the kitchen counter getting railed again. You don't know how this man had that much stamina at his age. You were getting close to cumming when you heard your phone ring. Your dad was calling you. You helplessly looked back at Miguel, expecting him to stop so you can pick up the call but he didn't stop and clicked the answer button for you. Your dad happily greets you over the phone wondering how you're doing and you tried to keep your voice steady and told him everything's good and uni was going great. Miguel leaned over, pressing his chest on your back and driving his cock deeper and harder into you. It took everything in you not to cry in pleasure and you wondered if your dad can hear the erotic sounds of Miguel's cock abusing your sopping wet hole and his balls slapping your aching clit.

Your dad told you he heard Miguel was taking a sick leave which he has never done befor. He was convinced that he must be really sick for that workaholic to finally take a break so he asked you to take care of his best friend for him. You told him not to worry because you were taking really good care of him.

[sttoru]

‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’

☀︎｜tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.

“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.

megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.

toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;

which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.

“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.

toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”

megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.

“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.

your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.

he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”

“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.

you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.

you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.

you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.

that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.

“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”

the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.

toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.

his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;

“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”

before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.

the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.

“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”

the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.

toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.

“wah! mama. . .”

even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.

“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.

your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.

you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.

“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”

“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.

and. . . there they go again.

your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.

you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.

time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.

and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐟𝐰 + 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰❞

: ̗̀➛ overview: various heacanons for toji, nsfw below the cut

: ̗̀➛ tw; afab body w/no gendered language. nsfw cut includes teasing, mentions of semi-public, shower sex, face fucking, etc.

: ̗̀➛ a/n: these headcanons were a request. i hope you enjoy them and thank you so much for requesting!

── დ ──

sfw;

▸ toji's favorite petnames for you include sweetheart, doll, and princess (regardless of your gender). he purrs them, usually when he wants something, or is trying to rile you up. just something about seeing how flushed your cheeks get really spurs him on.

▸ loves annoying you. i'm sorry but he is so the type to tighten jars and lids just a bit too tight on purpose, because then he gets to tease you about it when you come around asking for help. puts things on the highest shelf he can because this man towers over everything, and it never fails to make him laugh seeing you on the tips of your toes.

▸ favorite place to kiss you is for sure your shoulders. just imagine him standing behind you as you cook dinner, arms lazily draped around your waist. and him, humming about how good it smells as he peppers kisses around your shoulders and neck.

▸ for sure very protective. i mean, he's an assassin. he's made a lot of enemies. he's in a dangerous line of work. and he knows that you're sharing that spotlight with him as well, as soon as it becomes known he associates with you. because of that, he makes sure you know how to defend yourself. teaching you how to handle a weapon, how to throw punches, how to handle punches. the idea of losing you because he wasn't there to protect you honestly destroys him, no matter how much he pretends it doesn't. plus, he loves a partner that can beat his ass and keep up with him in a fight <33

▸ always puts his hands on your thigh whenever he's driving. squeezing and massaging at the flesh, tapping his fingers to the beat of whatever song is playing. letting you play with his fingers and trace the lines on his palm as the scenery outside passes by swiftly.

▸ complains and complains and complains anytime you're wearing his clothes but it's all just a facade. he doesn't actually care you're raiding his dresser because god, you look so damn good in his shirts and he'll never get tired of it.

▸ will never admit it but he always makes sure you fall asleep before he does. he doesn't know exactly why. maybe it's just to make sure that you'll stay, that you're not going to slip away in the middle of the night. maybe it's because it's the only time he'll really allow him to look at you. to let his eyes trail your face, memorizing the curves of your cheeks and counting your eyelashes.

▸toji is also a big bastard. teasing is for sure his love language in every sense of the word. poking at your sides where he knows your ticklish. tugging at a strand at your hair when you're both laying on the couch. humming just a bit too loud in the shower when he knows you're waiting for him to get out of the bathroom already. he loves you, really he does, and with that comes his smug little smiles and mocking little laughs.

▸ speaking of. you're for sure the first to love the big 'i love you'. he's not the most emotionally available and you know that. so, when you believed you were both ready, you said it. and he didn't really know how to react at first, honestly. one part of him was screaming to run, to get out, to get away from this feeling tugging at his chest. but another part, the bigger part, was being set aflame with adoration and was begging him to chase the warmth that was you.

▸ after that, saying he loves you is easy. he says it often, especially during goodbyes of any kind.

── დ ──

nsfw;

▸ shower with him oh my god please. seriously he's practically dragging you into the shower with him anytime either of you mention needing to bathe. he loves pressing you against the tiled wall and getting you all dirty and sweaty before washing you off with his soap.

▸ remember above where i said he likes seeing you in his clothes? yeah. some days he'll wake up and see you at the doorway, wearing only his shirt. it engulfs you, draping down to your thigh and slipping off your shoulder. and he can see the remnants of last night left on you- the hickeys peppering your neck, the hand print carving itself into your thigh. it drives him absolutely crazy and you can bet he's pulling you back into bed for another round seconds later tee hee

▸ he's very vocal in bed, i think. lots of groaning, and even more dirty talk. he gets so pussy drunk off of you that he just starts babbling all the nasty thoughts that pop into his mind, going on and on about how good you feel and how much he loves fucking you.

▸ adding on to this, he wants you to be vocal in bed, too. he wants to hear all of your whines and whimpers and moans. he wants to hear how good he's making you feel. and if he thinks that you're purposefully muffling yourself, he'll go to no ends to force those pretty little noises from your lips.

▸ lordd please let this man face fuck you. he's so down bad for it, like it drives him actually crazy. feeling you gag around his cock as he bullies it down the back of your throat, watching the spit dripple past your lips when he finally pulls away...!!!!

▸ his love language being teasing does notttt stop in the bedroom. he's so mean about it, really. watching how you squirm at his light touches and how you slowly break down with every denial of him fucking you, until you're practically begging you. it gives him such a rush seeing you so desperate, all because of him.

▸ will fuck you literally anywhere. anytime. he doesn't care. you've been pressed against more surfaces than you can admit to, and not many of them even being in your own home.

[impulseheaven]

Her roommate - Vi

cw: fem reader , use of yn , reader has breasts , modern au , nonsexual showering together wc: 1.4k synopsis: During her stay at college she shares a dorm with you and quickly develops a crush on you and shes not afraid to show it.

It was a Monday which meant you had to go back to your regular schedule, but thank the gods it was raining which meant all your professors cancelled class.

Mostly because none of them wanted to drive in the harsh weather, and because most were too lazy.

You slept in, only waking up at the sound of your dorm door slamming shut. You lifted your head from under the blankets and were practically blinded for a moment at the harsh lights compared to the darkness you were just enclosed in.

You could see a blurry figure, Vi said softly, “Sorry, pretty girl.” You sat up and rubbed at your eyes, looking back up to see her unpacking her gym bag. Your eyes flickered down to her arms that always looked so good after her workout.

���‘s fine, need to wake up soon anyways.” You slipped out the tall bed, your feet softly hitting the floor. You liked to sleep in bigger shirts with no pants, hating how the blankets pulled at the fabric on your legs. Walking to your dresser, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and slipping them on.

Vi shamelessly took in the sight of the shirt riding up as you slipped off the bed, revealing your plush thighs. She slipped out of her gym shoes and put on her slides, grabbing her shower caddy along with a towel and a change of clothes.

Grabbing your own caddy you and her walked in silence to the bathrooms, her disappearing into the shower as you took your morning bathroom break. You went to the sinks and washed your hands, and brushed your teeth and face.

You could hear her shower running as you did your own routine. You left the bathroom and went back to your dorm, doing your skincare at your desk with the vanity mirror you bought.

You sighed as you put your stuff away and grabbed your backpack that was resting against your bed. You pulled out your laptop and iPad, knowing you had work to do.

As you did your work, Vi finally came back, you could smell her body wash as she walked past you to get to her own bed. You were taking notes you didn’t finish in class on Friday. Vi looked over at you from where she was sitting on her bed, drying her hair with the towel.

She absentmindedly combed it with her fingers before tossing her towel in her laundry basket before standing. You could hear her footsteps as she walked over to you, standing next to you to see what you were doing.

“Always so studious yn.” Her tone was light and teasing, you glared up at her knowing she had a small smirk on her face. “Don’t you have work to do?” She hummed, shrugging. “Yea but i’ll do it later.” You both knew she wasn’t going to do it later, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Truly Vi, I don’t know how you haven’t got kicked out yet.” She smiled as she lifted her hand, brushing it through your hair. “If they even tried I wouldn’t allow it, cant be separated from my pretty roommate.” You let out a huff but leaned into the touch.

You felt your cheeks flush, “Let me do my work Vi.” She smiled and pulled away, “finee” and she walked back over to her bed and went on her phone.

You finally finished all the work teachers assigned today, it not being much the time read 1:37pm. You let out a huff and stretched your back, groaning as it protested to the hunch you’ve had for the past few hours.

Vi was out hanging out with her friend Jayce, doing who knows what. You decided to go get some food, changing into a black hoodie and a pair of jeans. Slipping on your black converse that were your go to shoes whenever it rained.

You grabbed your phone, school lanyard, and the umbrella from the back of your closet. You slid your lanyard into your hoodie pocket and your phone into your back pocket.

You soon got to your favorite on campus restaurant, getting some food for you and Vi knowing she’ll probably want some later. You trailed back into the dorm building, as you stepped into the elevator you heard her sly voice “Hey pretty girl.”

You turned and saw Vi step into the elevator, slightly wet causing you to grimace. As you clicked the button to go to your floor she saw the food in your hand, “Ooo, did you get me something?” You smiled and nodded, sliding your hood off your head.

“Yea I knew your fat ass would want some.” She rolled her eyes but had a small smile on her face, you laughed slightly. You two piled back into the dorm, you slid out of your shoes and grabbed your sweatpants you had on earlier and a tank top.

You both quickly changed into comfier and less wet clothes in silence before you were both sat on your floor with the flood laid on the floor in the containers. You two were eating while Vi talked about what her and Jayce were up to. Which was basically a whole bunch of nothing but you let her talk cause you liked her voice.

After you were both done eating and threw away the trash you sat with your backs against the leg of your own bed. Both of you had your legs out with yours resting in-between hers as her fingers absentmindedly ran patterns on your calves.

She saw how flustered your face was at the small touches making her smirk the whole conversation, and soon the time was 10:11pm. You both decided to go take a shower, grabbing your caddy’s, your own towels and a change of clothes.

You walked to the bathroom’s in silence, walking past the toilets and going to the showers. The way the shower area was set up was every shower had a curtain, and in the middle of the room was benches.

Vi bit her lip as you turned on your shower, she watched as you stepped in and waited until she knew you were naked and actually showering before she stripped. She pulled aside your curtain and stepped in, closing it to shield yourselves from the cold air. Placing her hands on your hips as she pressed herself against your back.

You let out a yelp and spun to face her, your face was red as your eyes flickered to her breasts on accident. “Vi what are you doing?!” She smirked, pressing your body against hers. “Cmon pretty girl don’t act like you haven’t thought about this before.” Her smirk turned into a smug grin as you stayed silent, knowing she was right.

“What if someone walks in? They’ll get the wrong impression.” You huffed at her, feeling the hot water run down your back. She shrugged, “Its not like we’re doing anything wrong Cupcake.” You glared at her before rolling your eyes, “Fine but hands off.” You slapped her hands off your waist before going back under the water.

You two spent the next forty minutes in the shower, you washed each other’s hair and she tried to wash your body but you practically hissed at her whenever she cupped her hand around your boob.

Once you were done she gently dried your body, before drying her own as you dried your hair. You got dressed in silence before going to the sinks to brush your teeth, she waited as you did your skincare since she only put on some cheap moisturizer.

You two walked back to your dorm, putting away your shower caddies and tossing your towels in your laundry baskets. You crawled into her bed with her and faced each other, the only time you two would share a bed is after some frat party and you were both horribly drunk.

You lifted your right hand, gently brushing her cheek as her eyes were closed. She grabbed your hand and placed it near her face as she opened her eyes, looking at you. You two sat in silence before she spoke, “Go out with me Cupcake.” A flustered smile broke out on your face, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

“Ok,” You leaned over and placed a kiss to her lips, it was a gentle peck but you stayed there for a moment before pulling away. She smiled at you before pulling you closer, resting her head near your collarbone and curling against you.

nav.

[breannasfluff]

@meowmeowmeowmeow4x Hope you like it!

8. “Sibling A! Sibling B is throwing the kids in the pool!” Damian, Danny, mer au

“Danny! Todd is throwing everyone in the pool!” Damian stomps up to the halfa, swiping at the hat propped over his face. “Someone’s going to get hurt!”

Danny blinks at him, stretching in the sun. “Jason knows what he’s doing.”

“Todd has panic attacks when his head is covered in water.” His revival by Lazarus Pit left some scars. 

With a groan, Danny hauls himself out of his chair. “Just because I’m a mer doesn’t mean I always have to be on lifeguard duty. I just got nice and dry.” Still, he follows Damian back to the pool area. 

The pool area is huge. Father converted it to saltwater and expanded it when Danny joined the family. Damian would never say it out loud, but he’s a little jealous his older brother is a mer. 

Brown is currently shrieking up a storm as Todd hauls her to the edge of the pool. She’s flailing too hard for him to keep ahold of her and Damian doesn’t need to see the future to see how this is going to go. 

Brown slips out of Todd’s arms, still trying to hold on. Todd, without firm footing, tips with her and they both crash into the pool. 

Danny runs the few steps to the pool and dives in, legs transforming to a tail as he hits the water. His skirt, loose around human legs, is tight over his scales, but it protects his modesty when switching forms. 

The mer’s tail is a pearly white, almost translucent in the daylight. At night, Danny’s skin shifts to pure black, allowing him to stay hidden in the depths. Electric green can be flared as a threat response. He doesn’t look impressive in the daylight, which just leads people to underestimate him. 

Brown easily treads water, but Todd sinks, as expected. It only takes a few moments for Danny to dip down and wrap his arms around the bigger boy, pulling him to the surface. He breaks with a gasp, flailing in Danny’s grip. 

Rather than deliver them to the edge of the pool and let Todd escape, Danny goes for the raised rock grotto in the middle of the pool.

“What the hell!” Jason hauls himself onto the low shelf at water level, shaking his curls and sending water flying.

Danny giggles and coils in the water, flicking his fin idly. “That’s what you get for throwing people in my pool.”

“It’s everyone’s pool, dumbass.”

Danny leaves him there, minorly stranded, and swims back to the edge where Damian still stands. “Come swim with us?”

Well…it is rather warm out. The water looks inviting. And maybe, possibly, Damian enjoys swimming with his mer brother. 

“Fine, if you insist.” He makes a big show of shedding his t-shirt, but the fact that he’s already in swim trunks gives it away. 

The water is pleasantly cool on his skin. Scales and slime rub against his leg and he barely manages to keep from kicking out. It’s just Danny. 

His older brother grabs his wrist, towing him deeper into the pool. Brown joins Todd on the rock grotto and they watch as Damian is pulled under the water. He doesn’t struggle, Danny won’t let him come to harm. 

The mer settles to the bottom of the pool, tail kicking up the sand that lines it. Damian swims down near him, hands moving continuously to keep from rising. It’s not fair that mers can control their buoyancy. And breathe underwater. 

Then Danny fits his hands under Damian’s feet and pushes up. They rocket up and out of the water, the momentum letting Damian do a flip in the air before diving back down. He bursts back up, laughing. 

Danny circles below his legs before breaching in an arc of his own. He slaps his tail as he comes down, sending water spraying onto Todd and Brown, who squawk from their spot on the rock. 

It’s a good afternoon.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: All of the distractions in the world couldn't keep you from worrying about the potential fallout from your web of untruths--until a bigger issue arose. (5.5k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, brief religious zealotry, insecurities, secret relationship, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: This chapter contains a scene I had imagined in my head and became the catalyst for this series--what would happen if Eddie encountered one of the NYC street preachers?

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter thirteen: street smarts

You were supposed to be doing something. Checking the guest log, organizing the bills by due date, making a list of repairs that still needed to be made…something. Anything besides just standing behind the desk, watching Eddie’s biceps flex as he hauled the overfilled trash bag out to the Dumpster. 

At this point, it was all busy work. Taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, dusting furniture…all scraps of chores to keep him here. The moment he felt like he was being pitied—or worse, like he was being a burden—he’d leave. His pride was too strong and too loud to allow him to stay if he wasn’t working, even if that work was as interesting as watching paint dry. 

That’s what it was. 

“I need you to spackle a hole in Room 9,” you told him as he walked back into the lobby. “The guy staying here last night punched the wall, and it looks like he won.”

Eddie grimaced, flexing his own hand like he could feel the man’s pain. “Jesus. Yeah, sure.” He slid a rubber band off of his wrist and tied back his hair. The sleeves of his t-shirt had been cut into a tank top, though you weren’t sure if he’d done it or the shirt had been designed that way. “Where do you keep the spackle?”

You jabbed your thumb towards the supply closet behind you. Eddie started in that direction, but made an abrupt turn towards you. His arms snaked around your waist, his lips easily finding the crook of your neck. 

Instinctively, your shoulder jerked upwards, protecting you from any further tickling, but Eddie only doubled down. His kisses became less of a whisper and more of a shout, each punctuated with a smacking mwah!

“Ed-die!” Your giggles broke his name into its syllables. “Quit it!”

He paused for a moment and pretended to consider your plea before continuing his barrage of kisses. “Hmm, don’t think I will.” His words were muffled, the vibrations sending tingles through your bloodstream. “What’re you doing after your shift?”

You scoffed. “Um, curling up under the covers and passing out?”

“What if…” He moved his lips to the back of your neck. “You curled up under my covers?”

The suggestion garnered a dual sensation of desire and dread. You wanted that more than anything: the intimacy of laying next to him, his body curled around yours, the rhythm of his breathing lulling you to sleep. The first night he was here, he wore only boxer briefs. If you slept beside him, would he wear more? Less? If he awoke with that natural, involuntary stiffness between his legs, would you feel it?

But then, despite everything within you leaning towards being with Eddie, reality set in. Your room was the closest to the lobby; how could you possibly skip over it without Dad noticing? Even if he didn’t notice, how could you sneak out of Eddie’s room without Mom seeing? Dad might be oblivious in the way that fathers so often are, but Mom was like a hawk. She could probably sense that you were considering disobeying her orders to keep away from Eddie.

“I’d have to sneak through your window. And then sneak back through my own window in the morning,” you mused. 

“Or,” Eddie countered, spinning you around so you were facing him, “you could tell your parents that you couldn’t resist the cute handyman’s charming advances.”

His brown eyes gleamed with mischief as his hands dipped lower, squeezing your ass through your jeans. It took all of your willpower not to change the sign to read “NO VACANCY”—despite your many empty rooms—and drag him into his bed by the worn collar of his t-shirt. 

“I will.” You wrinkled your nose. “Well, maybe not in those exact terms, but I will tell them we’re…y’know.”

Eddie took a small step back and crossed his arms. “We’re…what?” His tone was somewhere between perplexed and demanding, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t define the relationship while also hoping you would define it for him.

You had no idea what the answer was. ‘Friends’ was far too casual for two people who had been sucking face in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park just last week. ‘Dating’ seemed too formal for only having been on two dates, the first of which hadn’t even been officially stated as a date from the onset. ‘Fooling around in the laundry room every chance we get’ was more accurate, if not a little wordy.

“We’re getting to know each other. Intimately.” You added that last word in an attempt to show him just how much you cared about him. Whatever relationship limbo you two were in would only be temporary. 

“Hmm.” A smirk tugged at Eddie’s lips. “Just how intimately are we talking here?” He tucked his forefinger into your belt loop and pulled you towards him, so close that you could feel his belt buckle through your shirt. 

Glancing around to ensure no one was walking by, you pressed a small kiss to his lips. “I’m gonna tell them. I promise. Just give me a little time.”

Your heart ached when his shoulders slumped. You wanted to fix it all now, to face your anxiety head-on and tell your parents about Eddie. Tell them that you were together and that it could be something serious—without holding your breath for their approval. 

But then there was that knife twisting in your gut, the one that echoed the same statements time and time again: 

You’re a bad daughter You’re disappointing them You’re negating every sacrifice they’ve made

But now a new one joined them, just as unwelcome as the others:

You’re going to lose Eddie if you keep being a coward. 

Eddie held your gaze for another beat before he broke it. His head tilted to the side, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Well, if you promise…” In one swift motion, he swooped in and kissed your cheek. When he pulled back, you wrapped your arms around his lithe waist and drew him back in. “Is that a yes for sneaking through my window?”

You gave him a gentle, playful shove and rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the fluttering butterflies that came with the idea. “Go spackle the wall.”

“Yes, dear.” He started towards the supply closet once more, calling out over his shoulder, “what time are we leaving for that college thing tomorrow?”

Everything he said and everything he did encroached closer and closer into relationship territory. Going to Admitted Students’ Day with you was something a boyfriend would do. 

But he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend—not that it would make much of a difference. It wasn’t as though a label would suddenly afford you the freedom to show off your relationship. Besides your parents’ disapproval, that pesky news story about Death’s Echo’s new lead singer kept nagging at you. You technically had information about Eddie’s life that even he didn’t know, and you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. 

“Noon at the latest.” You tried swallowing the lump in your throat, but it stayed put, so you just spoke above it. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I know school isn’t really your thing, so…”

Eddie poked his head out from the closet. “Noon it is.” When he emerged, he held the small spackle bucket and a wide putty knife. “By the way, I won’t, like, break out into hives or burst into flames if I go to a school.”

“I know.” Your body relaxed as his humor snaked through the crevices of your anxiety. “And I really do want to tell them about everything. About us, about NYU. It’s just…”

Goddamn the mist clouding your eyes. It was shameful, really, the pity party you were throwing for yourself. But how could you approach your parents and say, “Hey, by the way, I’m dating our de facto handyman. But don’t worry about the relationship affecting the business, because we’ll have to close the motel once I start graduate school in two months anyway. Also, I’m studying social work, not hospitality. Surprise!”

“Hey.” Eddie’s voice was soft, his thumb swiping over tears that fell despite your efforts to hold them back. “Look, if you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”

You shook your head. “I want you to go.” To emphasize your point, you kissed his cheek. The beginnings of stubble tickled your lips. “We can make a day of it. Grab some lunch or something.”

Eddie didn’t look wholly convinced, but he managed a smile. “And then I get to show off how smart you are.”

There was no point in arguing that everyone at Admitted Students’ Day was just as smart as you, if not smarter. Instead, you watched as he padded towards room nine. 

What you wouldn’t give to cave to your desires and climb into his bed beside him. Whether you fell asleep immediately or spent the entire time with him firmly buried inside you was practically irrelevant. You were tempted to follow him right now and have sex with him in the vacant room.

But you didn’t want your first time together to be something you rushed through. Maybe it wouldn’t be the rose petals and naked guitar playing scenario that Ben and Nora had teasingly suggested, but you didn’t want to do it just to “get it over with.” 

So you stayed put, drumming your fingers against the desk’s wood paneling, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs. Someday, you promised yourself, Eddie would be the one to quell that need.

You left your room at noon the next day, armed with a smile and an alibi. Your usual excuse of running errands wouldn’t explain why you were wearing a black button-down dress and your Mary Jane heels. 

The door to Eddie’s room creaked open as you passed by. Without wasting a moment, one tattooed arm darted through the gap and pulled you inside. 

“Eddie!” You hissed at him, bringing one hand to your chest as your heart rate soared. 

His lips were on yours before you could ask why he felt the urge to spike your already sky-high anxiety. Like a miracle elixir, the kiss blunted the day’s sharpness and turned your racing thoughts into drifting clouds. 

Your hands found his biceps, fully on display in the t-shirt that had been altered to be a makeshift tank top. The same one, you realized, he’d been wearing last night. The pads of your fingertips were met with resistance at the muscle that was even more defined than it had been a month ago. 

“Just needed to do that before we left.” His palms smoothed down the back of your dress, lingering for an extra moment on your ass. “Ready to go?”

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded. All of the air had been knocked from your lungs; from the scare or from the kiss, you were still unsure. 

Eddie’s fingers brushed yours as the two of you left his room in a silent plea to hold your hand. You wanted to accept the offer, to proudly display your affection for him. You wanted it more than anything, so much so that you almost let your guard down. Almost took his hand in yours and paraded out into the lobby without a care in the world, subtly announcing that you were his and he was yours.

Almost.

A pang of anger flashed in your chest; not at the situation, but at Eddie himself. He knew you hadn’t told your parents yet. He knew you would face some consequences for dating a motel guest and for sneaking around behind their backs, especially if you brazenly flaunted the relationship without any notice.

Eddie huffed at your rejection. “Oh, right.” Was that disappointment or frustration? Or some lethal combination of both?

Dad immediately noticed the departure from your typical attire when you walked past; he’d already finished skimming the newspaper when you walked in. “Where are you off to?” 

“Hanging out with Ben and Nora.” The lie rolled  off of your tongue, just as you’d practiced in the mirror this morning.

“Double date?” Dad’s question was rhetorical, of course–he certainly wasn’t expecting you to actually go on a date with Eddie–but your breath still caught in your throat.

A cough, hopeful not too conspicuous to draw attention, delayed your response. “Uh, no. Just, uh, friend stuff.” Friend stuff? Christ, were you incapable of lying without extensive rehearsal?

He nodded, not even flinching. Thank God he was at the desk and not Mom, who definitely would have interrogated the truth out of you by now. 

“Have fun, be safe, make sure to ask Ben how his parents are.”

You promised to do all three and dashed out the door before he had time to ask Eddie any questions. 

You reached for Eddie’s hand the moment you were out of sight, relishing in the safety of his calluses and strong grasp. 

“So, friend.” Despite his playful nature, hurt tinged Eddie’s tone. “You sure we’re in the clear? Maybe someone down the street will see us holding hands and report us to the authorities.”

His words formed a pit in your stomach, anchoring you to the sidewalk. “This isn’t just for me.” You face him and take his other hand, too, wrapping his arms around your waist. “If my parents want to, they can kick you out. I need to tell them in a way that keeps them from absolutely losing their minds.”

The lines at the corners of Eddie’s eyes softened. “I know,” he conceded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it like this with other guys you dated? Or is it just because I’m staying at the motel?”

Shame washed over you for the second time in as many minutes. “I’ve never actually told them about any guys I’ve dated,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve been on dates and had some short-term…relationships, I guess you could call them. But nothing serious enough for me to tell my parents.”

Eddie let out an anxious breath before asking his next question. “What does that mean for us?”

There it was: us. One unit, something more substantial than being separate individuals who happened to share a space. 

“Eddie…I really like you.” The confession was a weight off of your chest; you felt your body fall closer to his. “And if they know about us and they don’t approve, they’ll make sure to keep us apart. At least now, we can sneak around without them being suspicious.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else; if not to protest, then to ask for further clarification. But he swallowed his words, opting instead to kiss you. 

His lips tasted like disappointment. You pretended not to notice.

The forty minute train ride to NYU eased some of the tension. With no seats available, Eddie kept one arm tight around your waist, the other hand wrapped around the overhead pole. His thumb caressed the small of your back, fingernail dragging over your cotton dress, as you leaned into him. 

The subway car was hot, but neither you nor Eddie were deterred in the slightest. Not even as that first bead of sweat crept down the back of your neck and dipped below your dress collar. 

If Eddie noticed the perspiration trickling down your spine, he didn’t comment on it. 

The tip of his nose tickled your temple as he loudly whispered, “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up for this.”

In addition to his tank top, Eddie wore black jeans ripped at both knees and his signature scuffed Reeboks. It was a stark contrast to your more professional attire—borrowed from Nora, of course—but you didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring yourself to care, not when…

“You look hot.” Your lips lingered on one exposed bicep, leaving a light lipstick print in their wake. “Ridiculously, unfairly hot.”

A bashful grin bloomed on his face. He stood up a bit taller, your compliment replenishing some of the confidence that had been lost. Eddie had certainly taken his share of ego bruising over the last few months: leaving Death’s Echo, the subsequent breakup with his girlfriend, sleeping in a struggling motel just to keep a roof over his head. And on top of it all, he was now with someone who refused to acknowledge the relationship in front of her own parents. 

That settled it. You were going to tell your parents tonight. No more hiding or sneaking around. If they lectured you on their disappointment, you’d take it. You just couldn’t fathom bringing more insecurity into Eddie’s life. He deserved more than that.

He deserves more than you, that irritating voice snarled. It curled itself around your ear like a wispy smoke trail from one of Eddie’s cigarettes, but did not dissipate as quickly. It lingered even as Eddie pulled you in closer to kiss you.

Your response was to slip your hand into his back pocket and curving it around his ass. Admittedly, there wasn’t much to grab onto, but it still woke up something slumbering within you. Something that had remained dormant since you’d gotten caught during the picnic last week. 

Longing stirred, carving out imagery of him atop you, your fingers grasping that sacred flesh without the burden of a denim barrier. You needed to know how he’d treat you in bed. Would he pounce like an animal capturing its elusive prey? Would he take his time and savor you like his last meal on Earth? Would he lovingly gaze into your eyes, or take you from behind to satisfy that primal need?

“What’s our stop again?” Eddie’s voice shook you from your lust-entrenched trance. 

“Oh, uh…” You fought to keep your train of thought on a more productive track. “West Fourth Street.”

He nodded and gripped the pole tighter as the car screeched to a halt. “Then this is us.”

Thank God he was paying attention. You were embarrassed at the mere notion of missing your stop because you were too lost in the idea of having sex with him. How would you even explain that to him?

“Nervous?” He asked as you exited the train car.

You shook your head. Surprisingly, you weren’t nervous about meeting other admitted students. They’d be a group of people just like you, reaching out a hand to help those in need. A group of people like you and Nora who shared a common goal of being positive forces in a world desperate for kindness.

The climb from the platform up to the street level brought with it a burst of fresh air—fresher than in the station, at least. You and Eddie made your way down Waverly Place, fingers loosely intertwined. He let you guide him, a half-step ahead, your knowledge of the city far exceeding his. 

You were only two blocks away from the school when you heard an obnoxious voice bleating through a megaphone. 

“Repent now or face damnation! You are all sinners who will burn in the fires of Hell for eternity!”

A middle-aged man wearing an off-center toupee stood in the middle of the sidewalk, shouting at passersby. 

“Revelations 21:8–But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”

You kept walking and ignored the man’s incessant preaching, expecting Eddie to do the same. 

That, you supposed, was naive on your part. 

Before you could stop him, Eddie let go of your hand and whirled towards the offender. His forefingers pointed upwards in mock devil horns, and the noise that came out of his mouth resembled something from The Exorcist. 

The preacher nearly keeled over at the sight of Eddie’s satanic display, sending you into a fit of cackling laughter. 

“Eddie!” You managed to hiss through your giggling. “Let’s go!”

Eddie took your hand once more and let you whisk him away from the dumbfounded man, the megaphone now hanging limply at his side. There was no doubt he would once again be spewing vitriol soon enough, but witnessing his temporary stunned silence was delicious. 

“I can’t believe you did that.” 

He shrugged. “I told you—I single handedly caused Hawkins’ own Satanic Panic. It’s not my first rodeo with these fire-and-brimstone assholes.”

“C’mon.” You tugged him along, shaking your head. “Let’s get out of here before he sics his disciples on us.”

Admitted Students’ Day at NYU’s Silver School of Social Work wasn’t fancy; just some hors d'oeuvres spread out on a white tablecloth to give an air of elegance. Really, it was nothing more than a few fruit and vegetable platters, finger sandwiches, and some pigs in a blanket. You helped yourself to some strawberries and a cucumber sandwich, watching as Eddie piled the crescent-wrapped mini hot dogs onto a paper plate and topped them with a hearty spoonful of spicy mustard.

A chipper young woman wearing an NYU t-shirt welcomed you and Eddie, ushering you both towards a pile of stick-on name tags and permanent markers. You scrawled your name in blue ink and Eddie did the same, though he added “just here for the food” in smaller letters below his name. 

“Okay, everyone!” The woman took to the microphone at the front of the small conference room. “Welcome to Admitted Students’ Day! My name is Ashley, and I’m a recent alumna of our wonderful MSW program.” She beamed and paused for the smattering of applause. 

Ashley brushed a brunette curl from her eyes and continued. “We’ll get started in just a moment, but until then, please mingle and get to know one another.”

When you looked over at Eddie again, he was dabbing at his shirt with a paper napkin. “Dropped some mustard,” he mumbled. Sure enough, a dollop of yellow stained the black cotton fabric. “Guess we’ll need to make another trip to the laundry room tomorrow.” 

You swatted at him, though you couldn’t deny having the same thought. “You also have some right here,” you lied, poking at his cheek. “Here, I’ll get it.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to the spot you had just touched. His skin warmed beneath your lips, and it took all of your restraint not to kiss him again.

A second woman sporting a name tag made her way over to you, accompanied by a man dutifully trailing behind her.

“Hi!” The woman chirped, flashing a smile far more genuine than Ashley’s. “I’m Alexis, and this is my boyfriend, Peter.” She gestured to the man. “It’s nice to see another couple here.”

A couple. You and Eddie were a couple, recognized as such by other people in a relationship.

Peter pointed to the message on Eddie’s name tag. “I see you’re also here for moral support,” he said with a grin. “The things we do for them, huh?”

“Please.” Alexis rolled her eyes, though a playful smile suggested she wasn’t annoyed in the slightest. “I went with you to your boring grad school orientation last week.”

You perked up, latching onto the information so you wouldn’t perseverate on the notion of couplehood. “What are you studying?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Alexis answered for him. “He’s brilliant, but just listening to the course descriptions had me falling asleep.” She turned her attention to Eddie. “What do you study?”

The telltale hue of embarrassment bloomed on Eddie’s cheeks. “Oh, I, um…I didn’t. I mean, I went to high school–finished high school–but I didn’t do the whole college…thing.” 

“He’s a musician,” you offered, if only to quiet his stammering voice. “A really talented one, too. He plays guitar and he sings.” You took his hand in yours in silent reassurance.

To her credit, Alexis didn’t let on that she’d picked up on his nervousness. She just smiled and asked him about the type of music he plays, swiftly shifting the conversation back on track.

The small talk continued for a few more minutes. You’d learned that Alexis and Peter had met in college; they’d both gone to Columbia, which was where Peter would be continuing his graduate studies. Alexis wanted a change of scenery and chose NYU, though Peter mentioned she’d also been accepted to their alma mater.

She went to an Ivy League university? The notion soured in your stomach. It was unrealistic to think that Alexis would be the only member of your cohort to hold a degree from an esteemed school; how would you be able to keep up with them? There was no way your meager city college education could even compare.

Mercifully, Ashley took to the microphone once again, this time with a gray-haired woman by her side, to begin the informational portion of the event. You and Eddie sat side-by-side, and you scooched closer when his arm instinctively draped over the back of your folding chair. The ease was a privilege; you could rest your head on his shoulder without being on alert. There was no threat of being caught, no guilt from sneaking around. The two of you were just another couple sitting in a sea of strangers. The idea was so enticing that you had to force yourself to focus on the course offerings and expected responsibilities. 

You definitely wouldn’t be able to keep up with your peers if you couldn’t even pay attention during orientation.

Two hours passed before Eddie’s stomach audibly growled; apparently, consuming his weight in miniature hot dogs was not enough to satisfy his appetite. You were starting to get hungry, too, and you’d spent the last thirty minutes saving off your hunger pangs.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” You whispered.

He nodded emphatically. “You’d think that one of these snobby rich-people schools would splurge for more food,” he said, thankfully under his breath. If someone had overheard…

Not to mention you’d be attending that ‘snobby rich-people school,’ and you were neither rich nor snobby. At least, you hoped you weren’t snobby. But did Eddie see you that way? Did he think you were keeping the relationship underwraps because of a deep-seated shame?

You bade your new friends goodbye, shot a shy smile at the professors who had spoken during the information session, and did your best to make an inconspicuous exit. 

The nearest bodega was just down the block, its shelves stocked with soon-expiring candy and various snacks. Eddie perused the aisles and stared at his options. You were much faster in your decision-making, grabbing a Crunch bar and chowing down as soon as you paid the cashier.

With Eddie still glancing between a bag of barbecue potato chips and a stick of beef jerky, you plucked the latest copy of Star from the rotating magazine stand and leafed through it. There’s no earth-shattering news–stories published in the tabloids rarely are. The most exciting story was about the upcoming Spielberg flick, one where dinosaurs roam the Earth in some sort of prehistoric zoo. You can’t help but wonder if Eddie would take you to see the movie for your third date.

You were about to close the magazine and tell Eddie to hurry up–or just buy both, and you’d foot the bill–when the bolded words in the news briefs section caught your eye.

Caleb Dalton, the lead singer and guitarist of Death’s Echo, checked into rehab after various alcohol-fueled encounters with the law. The band’s management states that they “hope to proceed with the tour” next month, though there is no word about finding a replacement.

Your mouth went dry, and you started choking on the bite of milk chocolate that hadn’t yet melted onto your tongue. Eddie looked over at you, concern etched between his drawn brows at your sudden coughing outburst.

“Wrong pipe,” you managed, closing the magazine as nonchalantly as you could and placing it back on the rack. “You ready to go?”

“Yup.” Eddie fished a dollar bill from his pocket and placed it on the counter. He was already digging into the bag of chips, blissfully unaware of what you’d just read. 

How would he react if he knew? Would he find it amusing that his replacement had already screwed up the tour? Infuriating that he’d been replaced by someone so unprofessional? Would it haunt him or would he consider it to be normal tabloid fodder?

A gut instinct told you to break the news to him—not here, but somewhere private. Somewhere he could process it without causing a public scene. The only thing worse than him finding out is him knowing that you already knew and hadn’t told him. 

Tonight, during your shift. And you could follow it up by letting him know that you were ready to tell your parents the truth. Selfishly, you were glad to have some leverage on them: Eddie would already be upset by the band’s news, so they couldn’t add to that stress by kicking him out, right? 

If only you could tell them about him accompanying you today, just to prove how serious this new relationship truly was. 

One step at a time. 

You savored every moment spent together on the trip. The beginning of rush hour had the train too crowded to find a seat and to hold onto the pole, so Eddie held you by your waist to keep you steady. You felt his lips on the back of your neck every so often, his way of reminding you that he was there amidst the chaos. 

He trusted you, and he trusted you to trust him. 

It had come innately, the way you had divulged your secret to him. Yes, he had grabbed your book and questioned your alleged hospitality studies, but you could have shut him out. Put up a wall and told him to mind his business or hit the road. 

But you didn’t. And neither had he, choosing to divulge his saddest memories to you. Had given you a friendship and then something more. His presence was something you awaited at the start of every shift, the shared conversations now far more welcome than the quiet you once craved.

He always arrived at the desk by ten o’clock, sometimes getting there before you did. You’d find him making Mom laugh or listening to one of her many stories about the plethora of bizarre guests who stayed at the motel over the years. Mom liked him–you knew she did. All you needed to do was pivot her mindset in the right direction.

So tonight, when 10:25 rolled around and Eddie was nowhere to be found, your first instinct was to knock on his door and make sure he was all right. As soon as the thought popped into your head, you dismissed it as ridiculous. He was probably tired from schlepping through Manhattan and fell asleep. He’d probably planned to take a quick nap and promptly slept through his alarm, though you didn’t hear his clock radio bleating through the paper-thin walls.

Maybe this was a sign that you shouldn’t tell him about Death’s Echo and their troubled lead singer. You’d already kept quiet about the televised arrest that you watched at the bar; what was one more secret?

But that would sabotage your plan to pander to your parents with sympathy. You couldn’t exactly take the poor Eddie route without him knowing. Maybe you could–

Eddie’s door opened, yanking your attention from your running thoughts. Your heart beat double-time. This was it. You were going to tell him about Caleb Dalton’s rehab stint, tell him everything you knew.

But the voice you heard coming from his room wasn’t his. In fact, it wasn’t even a man’s.

“Promise me you’ll think about it?” A woman asked, a slight whine in her tone.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you couldn’t see him, you could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t completely enthused about whatever he was supposed to be thinking about. “I promise.”

A soft mwah had you seeing red. It sounded like she’d only kissed his cheek, but maybe you were only fooling yourself. If she’d kissed his lips, those same lips that you’d been kissing earlier today…

“You’re the best, babe.” Jealousy raged in your core as she spoke, and you fought to keep it from exploding throughout your body. “We’ll get you out of this shithole in no time.” She punctuated her insult with a giggle. “Call me when you have your answer.”

“Mhm. Yeah.” And then his door closed.

Who was this woman? What was she doing here? Why didn’t Mom tell you that Eddie had brought someone to his room?

You got one answer once the mystery woman walked through the lobby, not even acknowledging your existence. She wasn’t wearing the heavy makeup that you’d seen in her photo, but there was no mistaking the owner of that blonde pixie cut, heart-shaped face, and piercing blue eyes.

They belonged to none other than Death Echo’s drummer.

Who also happened to be Eddie’s ex-girlfriend. 

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98

@squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia

@kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock

@ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975

@yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts

@mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank

@sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles

@the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl

@fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[joocomics]

needs

day 1 — thigh riding w/ gunil ⌞⌗ kinktober ⌝

𓂃⠀𓈒 bf!gunil x fem!reader

genre: smut ( 18+ ) wc: 0.7

contains: established relationship, soft dom!gunil, thigh riding, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk

[ kinktober masterlist | general masterlist ]

It only gets better each time you do it.

Especially today… It’s indescribable how much better it feels than all the previous times you’ve done this, like you’re in the middle of a very realistic wet dream; with body sweating and grinding unconsciously against the bed in chase of a blissful culmination.

Maybe it’s because you’ve been really needy of attention the past few days, and Gunil has been non-stop at the gym since the last time you got off on his thigh, and now his muscles are even bigger, stronger than you remember.

He got out of the shower fifteen minutes ago and didn’t bother putting on a shirt before relaxing on the couch so his tanned skin is freely exposed to your nails that keep dancing up and down his toned stomach. Their movements are delicate, as if a feather is brushing his figure in comparison to the excited motions of your hips that are turning extremely persistent.

“Keep going, love.” His deep voice sounds relaxed from the warm water, but encouraging with a gentle rasp. His eyes have a glint of provocation when they peer into yours once his hand moves to fix a loose piece of your hair which quickly slips away from behind your ear, because you can’t stay straight. “You’re gonna cum for me, right, baby? You love humping my thigh… makes you so needy.” He smirks at your answer which consists only of soft mewls.

The slickness is coating your cotton underwear more and more as the minutes go by. Gunil can feel it too.

He learned to love how it sticks to his skin, your growing arousal spreading through the fabric - at first discreetly until it’s all he can think about. He learned to love it so much that he can’t wait for the final seconds when you’re going to start shaking, and he will get the chance to spread your legs open and enjoy the sight of the wet patch, perfectly glued to your puffy lips.

But he also learned to be patient.

He allows you to take your sweet time whenever you find yourself needing this; doesn't matter if he's working on the computer or he just woke up early in the morning like last time. Once you sit on his thigh only in your panties, or just a t-shirt, time stops, and his attention is fixated only on what's happening in front of him; on the way your boobs level with his mouth and he can run his tongue over your nipple. Not today though - sometimes he's in the mood to just watch.

“My pretty girl…” his hand squeezes your hip before giving it an eager smack, “so dirty minded.”

The slapping sound rings again as your moans begin to fall more overwhelmingly from your lips, but you can’t really comprehend anything else that’s not the thrill from the burning waves inside you clashing into one another; the way each glide onto your boyfriend’s muscled thigh guides you closer to the edge.

“Open these beautiful eyes, love.”

Gunil’s firm fingers force your chin up. The brief movement excites you with its soft dominance, but you struggle with maintaining the intimate eye contact afterwards.

You flutter with lashes while your mouth hangs open as you’re desperate and out of breath. Only few more seconds of grinding are needed for you to fulfill the desire you’ve been craving.

Gunil can tell by your grip on his shoulder and the weak panting at his ear. A rushed moaning of his name causes him to smile; the seductive ways you moan his name without him even doing anything amazes him pleasantly.

“Tell me,” he makes his tone a bit firmer in order to command you to use words, “speak if you’re not gonna look at me, love.”

“Fuck—“ you struggle through your whines, “so close, I’m s-so close—“ your nails dig into his musky scented skin, “baby—“

For an ecstatic moment, your body is out of control; your clit turns overly sensitive beneath the wet underwear you’re wearing as your legs shake tangled in his which are calm and still.

Enjoying the lingering aftermath, you rub your folds back and forth, pressing with almost zero effort against Gunil’s muscles. His hands has moved around your waist as your head hungs low.

That’s when you notice that his erection is now evident in his casual black shorts.

As the delightful wave still passes through you, Gunil’s hands cup your face to pull you in for a lazy kiss.

“My good girl.”

His praise slips into your mouth, warming up your cheeks even more.

“Feel better now?”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[girlycocksleeve]

Description: A man turns a cuntboy into his perfect girlfriend

Tags: coerced detransition, abuse kink, misgendering kink, transphobia, rape

He met her through mutual friends. The moment he first saw her at the house party, it was obvious to him that she was a fakeboy, her binder not able to hide her tits, which must have at least been C cups judging by the curve of her shirt. She had a lower voice, although distinctly feminine, so he guessed she must’ve been on HRT.

They had exchanged numbers and talked for a couple weeks. He was older than her, 33 compared to her 22, and she had just moved to the city.

When he asked her out she was ecstatic, and they quickly planned a first date, then a second, then a third. He took her to a bar and got her drunk before taking her back to his place, pushing her up against the door and kissing her. She slurred out that she didn’t take her binder off for sex, and that she was anal only. He respected that the first time, fucking her ass would be good enough for now. She had protested at how big he was, had begged him to go slower but he just whispered “You feel too good baby, I can’t help it” and fucked her harder.

Once he was done she lay there dazed for a minute, cum leaking out of her ass, before starting and saying she needed to go home. He convinced her to stay the night, citing the lateness and her lack of sobriety, and then helped her out of her binder. He made sure not to ogle her tits, definitely bigger than a C cup, until she was asleep. At that point he was free to take pictures and videos, even parting her labia to play with her enlarged clit, sticking two fingers into her virgin pussy while she moaned.

She woke up hungover the next morning and he was there with crackers and water and ibuprofen, all gentle and sweet. She didn’t really remember the night before, but assumed her aching ass was because of him, which just turned her on. Before she left she asked to ride him. He expressed doubt, saying that she was too hungover, that she needed to rest, and she just begged, giving him a blowjob to try to convince him. It worked, and soon enough she was bouncing on his dick, tits bouncing as she hadn’t even thought to put on her binder. She left mid morning with a plug in her ass and her cunt dripping.

Before long she was opening up to him about her kinks. She wanted him to be rough with her, degrading and humiliating her. He acquiesced, making sure she knew the safeword by heart, and telling her to use it liberally.

He started to isolate her, making plans when he knew she was trying to see other friends. Driving wedges in between them, making scenes go on too long so that she would miss appointments.

One weekend he kept her denied, only letting her blow him without being allowed to touch her ass. He fed her aphrodisiacs and kept her watching porn so that her cunt stayed wet. After a couple days she was begging him to fuck her, saying she would do anything he wanted. He gave her two options: either he would fuck her ass without lube, or he would fuck her pussy. She hesitated before saying ass, crying out when the head breached her and immediately asked him to fuck her pussy.

“I don’t know, you asked for this.” He sunk another half an inch deep. The friction almost hurt with how tight she was.

“No, no, please, daddy. Please fuck my virgin pussy please I need your cock in my cunt.” He smiled as he drew back and pushed into her virgin hole. Tight and wet and he was immediately fucking rough into her, not giving her a second to adjust. She just moaned, breath catching on every thrust. He wondered if she was on birth control, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter as he came in her.

He made her clean her juices and cum off his dick before letting her cockwarm him for the rest of the day, fucking back into her pussy whenever he got hard. Eventually she came from it, clenching around him beautifully.

It was a few more weeks before he made another move. She was basically spending all her free time with him, and he had taught her that the minute she entered his apartment all of her clothes came off. That day he had her chained up, arms above her head while she was on her tippy toes. Nipple suckers had been on her tits for a good half an hour while he had flogged her ass, making her thank him for each one as her skin progressively grew more bruised. When he took the suckers off he immediately replaced them with clamps, and she instinctively shouted “No!”

She froze up, knowing that she wasn’t allowed to say that, and he tutted, yanking on the chain between the clamps so that she cried out. He then left the room, going to the atrium where her clothes were, grabbing her binder and scissors.

“This body is mine, understand?” He growled the words while yanking on the chain again, harder this time.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Please, daddy.” She was sobbing, either from pain or fear of punishment he didn’t know.

He held up her binder, made sure she knew what he was doing as he took the scissors to it. “If I ever see you wearing one of these again, I’ll whip your tits until they’re so swollen you won’t even be able to put one on.”

She just whimpered, “Thank you, sir.”

He fucked into her pussy afterwards, and she came when he told her what a good girl she was.

[etherfabric]

Directions from Your Higher Self

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

Pile 1

The Star, The Moon

You started to believe in miracles, and are now scared shitless. No small expectations keeping you safe from disappointment anymore. You got a taste of what magic feels like, and now fear dullness like the plague. Two things: You are allowed to have boring days, that doesn't mean the magic is gone. It can't be Christmas everyday. You would get sick of the lights eventually, believe me. And the other thing: That's why they say that victimhood can be a kind of safety blanket. If you already expect only crap from life, there is no horrible suspense anymore. But now... you can't go back. Even if you try it.

This is an icky phase of metamorphosis. It's normal that it feels disorienting and like you can't make sense of anything anymore. Do soothing stuff, calming habits, be around safe people. And spoiler: This is about embracing your humanity in a whole new depth. Don't worry, it will feel supernatural again soon enough. But for now, practice being plain, while also weaving your belief in miracles into it. Challenging, yes, but nothing you can't handle. You got this.

Pile 2

The Moon, 3 of Pentacles

Nothing you put energy or effort into seems to yield anything. It feels like punching in slowmotion, nightmarish. Hitting no one who needs to feel your hits. Newsflash: This is not a time for work! Get soft, dammit. You can't experience rest while still trying to prove something. No one is watching. You are being your own cruel audience, and boo yourself into despair. What are you aiming at? Who convinced you that particular thing is the sole hope for you to be happy ever again?

I love you, you are me, I am you, but I can't let you go on like this. Not with what lies ahead of us. If you only knew how easy things will get. How many fears will never come true. How much lighter you could afford to be. How much love you already deserve. But you have to dare opening your arms, and put the tools down. The monuments you try to erect are aimed at Gods you won't believe in anymore once you experience your feminine side as a gift, and not a curse. Grindset? Grind your teeth while napping, if you have to. But this is bigger than your egotistical, temporal ambitions. You need to do it slow, and I won't stop insisting. Because I can see more than you. You will have no choice but trusting me on this one.

Pile 3

The Emperor, The Devil

Have you heard of this awesome thing called "free will"? Let's take that baby for a ride. Use 3 spoons for the same meal. Lie on the floor of your hallway and recite a song. Buy a stranger a magazine about trains. Take a pair of scissors to your least favorite shirt. Name your nail polishes after famous people. The possibilities are literally endless, but yet you rotate the same 7 things. They will stay ready for when you need them next, but let's shake it up a little, huh? No wonder you feel trapped and stuck. But YOU make the rules, at the end of the day. Yes, there are outer limitations you have no influence over, but even in a literal cage, you can decide what you think, or how you sit, or what notes you hum, or what shadow figures you make with your hands.

The thing itself is meaningless - it's about you experiencing being a CREATOR. Not just a servant to others. I don't care if it's throwing a paper plane into your bathtub, or quitting your job and disappearing to Nepal - but we crave novelty and agency. Deeply. Break the self-imposed limits, any of them. Just to feel what it feels like. It's more rewarding than you imagine.

Pile 4

The Hanged Man, 2 of Cups

Oh shucks. You like someone. It happened. And you can't cancel it willynilly. Suppression has run its course, and now you have to face the embarrassment of having a heart with a need to connect and love. This has completely ruined your illusion of sovereignty you so deeply depended on to feel safe in the world. What now? Where will it lead? What does it mean? What will happen next? Do they like me? Do they think of me? Do they think of me badly? Why do I think about them? Is this me being brave, or pathetic? Is there a true difference?...

The questions don't stop, and you know what - they shouldn't. This is less about the "result" of this connection (I know, boo me, because this is your hyperfixation above all, despite not ever admitting it) and more about getting you out of your shell to be curious about yourself again. The heart needs to be open, and these fears and doubts have been there for a long time already. You are ready to face them, examine them, and learn more about yourself than any flavour of aloofness could ever teach you. I know you hate it, but I can also see the faint giggly twinkle in your soul from up here, buried under all this denial and acting tough. And that's the most scary part for you. That you actually like someone, like, in THAT way. How scary that life has no guarantees, but coming to peace with that truth will serve you much more than any relationship ever could.

[gatorbites-imagines]

idk if your requests are open and I don't have a plot like some of your other anons but how do you feel about Doflamingo being a bit obsessed over someone solely because they are much shorter than him but can throw him around like a toy doll😶‍🌫️

Donquixote Doflamingo x shorter male reader

Headcanons

Exams are over! writing time!

Doflamingo is one of my favourite One Piece characters of all time, so I got excited about this request hehe.

I imagine Reader is a powerful person on their own, since I can’t see Doffy being in a real relationship with anybody who isn’t powerful.

It’s definitely not hard to be shorter than Doffy, since that guy is 10 feet tall. So, you would just have to be less than 10 feet for him to tease you about it.

In this situation, you would be normal human sized, that means you go to about Doffys hip in height, meaning he always has to leer down at you, and your neck is gonna ache from having to look up at him at all times.

Expect his grin to be even more shiteating than normal when he looks down at you, especially if he actually sees you as a romantic partner and not just someone hes gonna use to further his goals.

Hes always gonna make comments about your height, and chuckle that laugh of his. If he actually likes you, I can also imagine Doffy dropping his feather coat on top of you, just to see how it completely covers you from head to toe.

Expect to be picked up and put in his lap when he sits down, and if you start complaining or snapping at him for it, Doffy would just find it more entertaining and go out of his way to pull you into his lap even more.

Theres definitely been more and one meeting between his subordinates and himself, where you’ve been posted up on his knee, looking like a grumpy cat as one of his large hands keeps you in place.

Doflamingo is already a very possessive and obsessive person in general, in my opinion, so if you are romantic partners, he will be very overbearing. You being smaller than him, only makes him worse.

You are gonna be embarrassed when he pops a squat to look you in the eyes, grinning bigger than normal when you glare at him at how clearly he’s humiliating you.

Expect to be grabbed by him and moved around as he pleases, just scooping you up with his large hands or with his strings, lugging you around like a doll or toy. He would probably give you a nickname like that too, calling you his doll, as he picks out clothes for you for the day.

Only he is allowed to bully you (lovingly) about your height. If anybody else tries to pull the same moves he pulls around you, his grin becomes tense and the veins on his forehead bulge, but that’s just him if anybody acts too interested in you in general, or flirts with you. If anybody flirts with you, they better count their days.

You better know how to hold your breath for longer periods of time, since he kisses like he is gonna devour you whole. And with you being smaller than him, his tongue would probably gag you up and close off your airways for a while until he’s had his fill.

Makes you climb him like a mountainside if you want a kiss, if he’s feeling like a tease. Just stands up straight and chuckles as you grab onto his coat or shirt to climb him like a tree. Calls you his squirrel, because of that.

He uses your huge size difference when he’s mad at you too, lifting you or grabbing you, forcing you to look at him if you aren’t, or forcing you to stay if you try to leave. Would probably also use it as an intimidation tactic, since we all know Doffy isn’t a good person.

Dating Doffy can never be healthy, but if you have a spine of steel, or if your as twisted as he is, there would probably be no problem. You can use his height against him, denying him kisses or your attention, but it only works for a short while, since he’s just gonna lug you around as he pleases or use his strings to get what he wants.

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 13 - Eyes on you.

Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: this is an edited report of a one-shot from my old account.

Summary: you babysit Megumi and Tsumiki, however over the time you’ve spent watching over them, it’s seems their guardian has been watching you. Until one night you and Gojo play a very risky game.

Word count: 1k

CW: NSFW and adult content, swearing, biting, babysitter!reader, fingering, against the wall, cocky!Gojo, employer/employee, slight breast play.

“Mr. Gojo, that tickles” you giggle as you try to pushed the white haired man back, Gojo let’s out a deep chuckle as he only pulls you closer and licked the shell of your ear, “best not be too loud, the children will wake… though I don’t really care, but you might” he whispered in your ear and held you again the wall.

God this was dangerous, a man as handsome and charming as Gojo Satoru, touching you so intimately, working you towards such delightfully devious acts, what god had to pleased to be given such attention, to not only have Gojo watching you but now he was moments away from fucking you.

Gojo slipped his hand down the front of your pants and circled his fingers over your clit, you swallow any sounds begging to slip out, as your fingers grip at Gojo’s shirt, “let go to the room please” you whispered between soft gasps as Gojo nibbles on your ear, “you know I’ve been watching you since I hired you, I’ve been longing for the day I get to complete you” he whispered as he lowered his glasses and looked you dead in the eye, before turning you around and pressing your face against the wall, all while keeping his fingers in your pants, however now he was working his long slender fingers into your cunt.

“I never knew how pretty your eyes were, Mr. Gojo” you hummed and Gojo chuckled, “how naive” he held your waist in his free hand before grinding his stiff cock into your ass, you let out a squeak and pushed your ass back into him, the force of his hips caused a delicious pressure in his fingers and hand that was trapped between your cunt and the wall. Gojo slipped your pants off in a swift motion, that had to be even more impressive considering one of his hands were knuckle deep in your cunt, Gojo unzipped and opened the front of his pants, “Mr. Gojo, we can’t do it out here” you whispered and Gojo spilled his fingers out, before he pulled your panties aside, “so wet” Gojo whistled as he pulled his member out of his pants and rubbed his tip through your folds, Gojo grabbed a condom out of his pocket and teared the packet open with his teeth before rolling it on with one hand, as the other held your panties out of the way.

Gojo groaned as he pushed inside you and stayed there for a moment waiting for you to settle down, because if you both woke the kids up and they caught the both of you he’d have to fire you, which he really didn’t want to do. “Please move Mr. Gojo, I’m desperate” you quietly whimper and you try pushing yourself back into him, “I can feel that… oh also, while I’m in you, call me by my given name” he hummed as he began trusting slowly, you hummed, as you dug your nails into the wall and bit your lip to silence yourself. Gojo was bigger then what you were use to and quite sensual, his thrusts were deep and hard, you could feel the air being knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, “it’s so good, Mr. Go- I mean Satoru” you gasped and looked back to see Gojo grinning as he rolled his hip upwards. You let out a particularly loud moan before covering your mouth, “please, let go to the bedroom… my legs are weak and I can’t stay quiet for much longer” you whined and Gojo clicked his tongue and he held your waist tightly, he began walking to his bedroom, while keeping himself inside you. You fumbled slightly as you struggled to keep up with Gojo’s long strides, on the way to the room you and Gojo knock over a couple of indoor pot plants and a vase, “depending on how well you take my cock, replacements may not come out of your paycheque” Gojo chuckled as he swung his bedroom door and pushed you onto his bed before shutting the door.

You laid naked on you back as Gojo held your hips up off the bed and thrusted quickly into you, “oh Satoru, I can’t take much more” you cried out as you ran your fingers up Gojo’s chest, “yeah I know… just a little longer, I’m… I’m almost there” he sighed as he throw his head back, Gojo moved his hands up your body to your breasts before squeezing them, he leant down to bite your neck. “I’m gonna-“ you gasped as you tightly hugged around his neck, Gojo grunted as his came and grabbed a hand full of you hair before kissing you, Gojo hummed as his tongue flicked around in your mouth, before he collapsed on top of you.

There was a soft knock at Gojo’s door and he quickly got up and wrapped a blanket around his waist as he covered you with a sheet, before opening the door the find Megumi and Tsumiki standing at the door, “what’s wrong?” He sighed as he blocked there view into the room, “we heard weird noises and then Y/n made a sound like she was hurt, then there was some crashing sounds…” Tsumiki said in a slight panic, “…yeah, and when we were to Y/n’s room she wasn’t in there, maybe a bad man took her” Megumi frowned and Gojo only chuckled, “Y/n’s not in any trouble, she went out to get me some medicine because I had a little too much to drink… now go to bed, I’ll tell her to come see you when she get back” he waved the kids off and went back into the room, “you baby them too much, you know that” Gojo watch as you start pulling your clothes on, “that’s what you hired me for, to make sure the kids have a stable parental figure in there life” you walked past Gojo to the door and he caught your wrists.

“After you’re done, come back here I haven’t had my fill of you yet” Gojo kissed your wrists before licking up your wrists to your finger tip.

Simptember Masterlist

Day 12 - Itachi Uchiha: Gifts.

Day 14 - Levi Ackerman: Autumn breeze.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Foul Legacy with a partner who also has wings

They'd compare wing sizes and show how his are bigger by wrapping them up like a lil burrito ♡

-•^• anon

ohhh my goodness maybe you have feathers while his are more like a moth!!

you've always kept your wings hidden for years, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. they made people stare and gape, the kinder ones call you an Adeptus; the cruel ones pull out your feathers and jeer. you don't know why- they're not valuable at all, not made of gold or pearls. they're just ordinary feathers, as common as the finches that constantly hang around the harbor, and small enough to be tucked away beneath your shirt or coat. so that's where they stay, when you're out and about, bound securely within your clothes. only when you're positive that you can trust him do you show Foul Legacy your wings, flapping them a few times in an attempt to neaten them up. his crystalline eye widens, strangled chirps and trills of excited delight slipping from his fanged maw as he darts closer to examine them at all angles

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful

Legacy shivers his wings to their full span, allowing you to trace your fingers over the constellations and speckles of stars in awe. they flutter once, twice, before wrapping over you like a gauzy blanket, your back securely against Foul Legacy's armored chest. with a tap to your shoulder his claws begin gently preening your feathers, the poor appendages a bit bedraggled and neglected during your busy daily life. his touch is delicate, gingerly fixing bent and curled feathers and dislodging old ones to bring forth new down. he bites back a satisfied croon as your shoulders slowly relax, the soreness of your wings gradually eased with his careful massaging. your eyes open when his touch lessens, gratefully brushing the tip of your wing against his

Legacy purrs, and waits a moment before grazing you back with his own shimmering limb

[alwaysshallow]

gorgerous, part 8

Simon Riley x f!reader

previous part || next part

READ ON AO3

You're a vet with a pretty simple life. One day though, things change, when a big guy with a skull mask enters your clinic with a small, ginger kitten in his hands. (4,5k)

A/N: ....guess who's back??

Christmas is usually celebrated with someone you love. Someone you respect, someone that will cherish the moments with you because there’s not only a lot of things to prepare in a sense of duty, the feeling that you have to do this. There's a lot of things that you can genuinely enjoy.

Gifts. You love to think of something special for every person that is close to you, just for the pure satisfaction of seeing a smile on their face and a "How did you know?" question that makes you giddy every time you hear it. 

What’s more, everyone gets something personalized, something that is from you, carefully picked amongst the hundreds of choices. You'd hate to give a present that looks like it had been picked at the last minute at a gas station; so, you spend a lot of the time buying and wrapping your gifts to some corny playlist that you made when you were eighteen, and you play it every year. Just for the vibe. 

Meal, where you think of everyone. Their favorites, dislikes, something sweet for later, when the meal will be just too boring and the craving for chocolate would hit. 

It’s good to note that most of the dishes aren't cooked by you (you don’t have time and skills to do so much), it's catering, but, it's the thought that matters, you think.

And it's like that… normally. 

This year, you feel like all the holiday spirit is dead. Your mom and dad already planned the vacation—without you, which upsets you, but you don’t allow yourself to show that—and your friends go to their families. You’re gonna be alone in the most wonderful time of the year, so for some reason, you start to understand the Grinch. 

You received an invitation from your friends, but you politely declined it. Feeling it would be either awkward, or you'd feel alienated in a family that you don't really know well. Besides, pity isn’t really your thing, so you prefer to watch Bridget Jones with cookies and milk, instead of being a burden.

Or, you preferred to watch Bridget Jones, before someone showed up in your life and made a little mess.

Before Simon came into view.

Maybe it's his aura, or maybe it's your high expectations and mindless dreaming, but you think it would be right to ask him. Even if he has plans—you think that a man like him doesn’t have plans—it's something that you want to do.

Just out of pure curiosity. Because based on the dinner you had with him, evening that you spent together, you think he'd be a good company. In your mind, you already see the banter between you and him. You already see how he argues with you that you shouldn't really put on a Grinch movie, or any Christmas movie because it’s tacky to think of a Hallmark movie and a meal together. You see how he rolls his eyes, when you hit “play” despite his protests.

How he tries to seem uninterested, but he’s more invested into the movie than you are, commenting out loud stupid choices of the heroes, sighing audibly, as you laugh in the background. How he absolutely devours cookies that you made, so you need to bake another batch of them because he's eating so much—rightfully so, for such a monstrous man in the military. He probably relies on his weight to stay in form. 

It's hard not to drool, when you imagine it. His body under all of the clothing, his muscles, body fat. How he looks, how comedically bigger he is, compared to you. Fuck, you’d give a lot to see him without all of those clothes. Compression shirt leaves too much to your imagination to be satisfied with that only.

It’s even harder to maintain a calm face, when he asks you about something from the bathroom, and you jump in place, like you were just caught on something illegal or watching porn. You can’t even recall what he was saying, so with a frown you ask him to repeat the question.

If he’s not dense, he should know by now that you like him. Very much. Maybe too much, considering how far your imagination goes, and it only took… a few months, to fall into this mindset with a man that is rather known for being quiet. A man that did a horrible first impression in that weird mask, yet you’re still interested.

Your polar opposite. 

While you love to talk, he rather avoids it. You love crowds (moderately), he does not. He probably prefers to sit alone in the cafe, reading away from the crowd, while you almost every time find someone to talk to, either if it’s a client or a barista that is glad someone doesn’t complain about the coffee. You talk, he’s more of a listener. 

Fire and water; ice, even. Something that is on the opposite sides, something that shouldn’t work in the first place, but for some reason, it works perfectly well—for you, at least. You’re more addicted with the passing hours of your weird friendship with Simon, more curious to know him. Trying to adjust to the slow pace that he set in.

The slow dance around the topic is the thing you know Simon likes the most. It’s maybe the only thing that you’re sure he loves to do. Taking his time to observe, pounce and eventually attack, if he feels up to it.

It’d be easier that he’d ask you to spend Christmas with him, but you can’t have it all easy, no?

You bite your cheek and observe how he plays with Sparkles. The cat is invested in catching his fingers with her paws, gnawing on them, when he tries to take them away from her to take a sip of his tea. With a view like that, it’s easy to melt into a puddle and forget about everything that bothers you. It’s also very easy to have a prospect of you three spending holidays in your apartment. Wouldn’t be far from what you have now—big “bad” military man spending time with a tiny kitten, while you try to think of a proper breakfast. 

It would be the best reward to have him around, when it’s your favorite time of the year. 

But, it’s up to him, if he agrees.

And, for many reasons, unbeknownst to you, you want him to agree.

“You have somethin’ in mind,” he breaks the silence. Deep brown eyes are already scanning you from the bottom to the top of your head, curiously. Challenging himself if he’s capable of knowing what bothers you, before you’ll say it to him.

You’re not gonna make it easy for him, that’s for sure.

“I don’t,” you huff, like it’s supposed to convince him. “It’s just… I don’t know what to make for breakfast. That’s really it.” 

Simon’s quick to accuse you. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t lie?” You raise your eyebrow, like he just didn’t tell you the truth; he scoffs at your high-pitched tone, taking a few steps towards you.

“You bite your cheek, and stomp like a bunny. What is it if not lyin’?” He mimics you, raising an eyebrow too. If it would be anyone else, you’d be slightly offended.

Rather than that, you’re amused a bit. “Like a bunny?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. From Bambi, or whatever that was.”

It takes everything in you to not laugh right this second. “You watched Bambi?”

“With Soap,” he murmurs, almost in shame because of the confession. “Doesn’t matter, what do you have in your little head?”

One confession leads to another, you think. It seems inevitable to say this right now, as finding a lie would be the worst option ever in front of a human lie detector. 

Besides, there’s no point in lying when you want him on Christmas. 

“I thought that, you know, you could spend Christmas with me. Sparkles would be included, too,” you say, out of breath when you’re done. 

In theory, this, telling him what you have in mind, should help you to get rid of that feeling in your chest. Feeling that makes you go back to being a kid, when you felt there’s nothing you can do about certain situations. When you could just wait for the mercy of the other person.

And that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You’re waiting till Simon says something; a few minutes ago, you felt like it’s just a formality. 

Right now, you feel that the ache got worse just by seconds. His blank stare doesn’t help you with anything, it just makes you wonder what is in his mind right now. Is he just so shocked that he doesn’t know what to say? Or is he trying to find the words to politely decline the invitation?

“So, you want to celebrate with me,” he speaks up. You don’t know if there’s been five minutes, ten minutes, or an hour since you’ve asked him, but nonetheless, it makes you mad how he asks another question, instead of answering yours.

Although, you don’t show it; you just chuckle, nervously. “Is that really weird?”

“Kind of? Masochist type of way, if I’m being honest,” he hums, tilting his head. You have this specific feeling behind your head that he’s not taking you seriously, but you try to push it away. You don’t need it, not now.

“Well, masochist or not,” you swallow the saliva, thinking it would give you courage to continue the conversation, “I really mean it. I’d love to have you here.”

He sighs, shaking his head, and you know you’re screwed. “We’re not quite here, bird. Nothin’ personal, but that’s probably the dumbest idea out here.”

“Dumbest… idea?” You raise your eyebrow, laughing at first, but then you look at him in disbelief. “Like, spending time together on Christmas is dumb?”

It looks like he doesn’t even want to hear what you are saying. Riley puts Sparkles to the transporter, getting ready to go, while you still want the answer. “So? That’s… it?”

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with you.” He shrugs, looking at you. “Simple as that, I don’t know what is so hard to understand.”

And then, he leaves. 

Not only without breakfast, but without a word that would help you understand why he reacted like that. 

As you can imagine, the following days are kind of rough. 

Simon isn't a texter or a caller, doesn't have a reason for it anyway, so you're anxious all the time at work. You make more hours than you should just to stay in work and keep your mind occupied with something other than him because it still feels like he was at your place minutes ago, not days. 

It doesn’t help. The unnerving wave of shame is overwhelming, so you can’t even enjoy your work the way you normally would. Because normally, work helps you with your inner peace, feeling like a hot shower after a long day. Relaxing your muscles, bringing your mind elsewhere.

Right now, work is just pouring more problems to the already full cup.

Maybe it’s a mistake, but you don’t really share it with anyone; what happened with the British guy. Too ashamed that you even thought it would be a great idea to invite Simon, you bottle the feelings instead of letting them out on a random girls night, when you’d be too drunk to remember what you’ve said. You don’t mention it to your best friend, in case she’d spill it to Soap, you don’t mention it to your parents, in a fear of being judged. Or, Simon being judged in that case, they don’t know him. 

You feel like you don’t know him either, but he has to have a reason to not to come, right? It’s not like he decided that just out of spite, right?

Not only you feel bad, but the whole thing feels pathetic. Everything reminds you of him. A damn jar of peanut butter in your apartment (that you hide deep, as you don’t want to even look at that), cat toys at your workplace, LEGO, just because he said that it seems like the stupidest, yet the most interesting “puzzle thing” ever. If this isn’t enough, you catch yourself thinking of him at the gym, when you feel too fatigued to continue the training. Wondering if he’d push you to do the last set, what’d he say. Him, helping you with the exercises, seems like something inevitable. Something that could happen.

You need a cold shower after that.

These days, people tend to get on your nerves too. Your calm clients become someone that you don’t want to see, not even mentioning talking to them for more than it’s necessary. Happy couple in the shop irritates you enough to skip the aisle that they are in because if you don’t get to be happy, you don’t want to see other people happy like that. Not when you thought you’re gonna spend the holiday with someone special to you.

God. If one of your best friends would behave that way, you’d convince them they deserve better because no boy should make you feel like crap. 

Now… yeah. 

Now you should be the best friend to yourself, but it’s not going well for you. It’s way easier to try to lose yourself at work, watch rom-coms and eat ice cream, rather than face the truth.

You eventually come to the conclusion that spending Christmas would be a scratch on his emo reputation, so it’s better for you to ignore him completely from this point. If he hates this day so much, he could tell you in a different way than humiliating not only you, but your feelings.

It’s the night before Christmas when you see him, as you come back from the shop with your groceries.

He looks... fine, as always. Unbothered, as always.

Walking like the whole world belongs to him, loudly and clearly intimidating everyone who would even think of crossing his path. It's something that you, right now, envy him for. How heartless he seems, which definitely helps him not only with the job he’s doing, but for the moment like this one. 

Where people, normally, feel ashamed. 

The big guy facade fades just for a single moment—and you hopelessly think it's the moment he sees you, the last droplets of human decency speaking to him. He stops, looking at you from head to your toes and back. Estimating if you’re worth a while.

And when he decides that you’re in his circle of interest, he walks up even closer to you. Not a single emotion on his scarred face, and if you wouldn't know him, you'd be scared that he wants something malicious.

Maybe he does.

"Hi." 

His voice feels like he’s under the water. Deep, unreachable, but for some reason, it reaches you. Simon’s presence floods your lungs, making it hard to breathe, or to do anything at this point. You have to take a shallow breath before you’ll do anything.

You can't quite reach out to yourself to bring anything other than "Fuck you", so you don't speak after the "Hi." A nod in acknowledgement of his existence is all you give him; because if you would try to speak, you'd be either aggressive or hysterical.

And it's the last thing you want to give him: emotions. Because he seems to love that you're the emotional one here; he can read people like a book, and you're tired of being one. Tired of being on his shelf, so he can grab you whatever he wants, and you have no control over it. It simply doesn't feel right to you, doesn't seem fair at any chance.

His tone snaps you back to reality. "Dove."

You sigh. "I have a meal to prepare. Can't really talk right now, Riley.”

"Ouch." He theatrically puts a hand on his heart, tilting his head to the side. You can't really say if he's surprised by your sudden change in behavior towards him, or amused. Maybe both, knowing him. 

So, you do what you do best: you just start walking to your place, completely ignoring his presence. Pretend like you don’t care about this stupid Christmas, like you forgot what he said to you on that disastrous morning.

He grabs your arm, forcefully. You’re not even sure when that happens, when he jerks you towards him and you can see how he purses his lips in a thin line, looking at you with something resembling remorse, at best. Or something quite close to it, it’s hard to name it.

"'m not gonna let go."

"And I'll start screaming. You know I will. Like, actually, who would believe you that you just wanted to talk to me? You’re big, mean and generally speaking many people would—"

"If the invitation is still on the table, I'd take it, if we're bein' honest."

Like a fish, you open your mouth and close it a couple of times, dumbfounded. You can’t really tell if he means what he said, or if he actually said what you’ve heard; because there’s a possibility you just misheard something. You raise your eyebrow. "What?"

"Your hearing abilities amaze me."

"You told me a few days ago—"

"Changed my mind." He shrugs. So casually, like he didn’t actually make you freaking out about him, thinking you’re imagining things between you two because he rejected your invitation. 

You repeat his words mindlessly, barely believing in them. “What changed, then? The big “I don’t spend Christmas” guy thought he’s gonna do it this year? Or something changed between us and it’s not that casual anymore? Or it’s not the dumbest idea?”

He grits his teeth. It’s not rocket science to see that he’d rather you just take his apology, but you’re not like that. At least, not after feeling so humiliated for a couple of days, thinking that you’re the stupidest woman on the entire planet. For what it’s worth, you need to make him regret his decision a little.

You want him to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands right in front of you, the royal brown staring into your soul. It’s not like you will budge, and Simon seems to know it, when he rolls his eyes. 

Fire and water. Maybe something that is not meant to be, and you started to slowly accept it after those days without contact. Sometimes people have different views on life, relationships and that’s okay. It’s not like you can change how he feels about you, but right now—

—right now, he closes his arms around you. Before you know it, he places his chin on the top of your head. Trying to isolate you from everything but him.

You try several times to leave his embrace, to punch him hard enough, but he doesn’t let go, and by that alone, you understand that somehow, you needed it. You just shoved it under the rug because it was easier.

Needed him, in general. Needed the reassurance that he probably doesn’t hate you so much. Your anger seems at lower levels right now, tamed, understanding towards him. It’s a stark contrast between you now, and a few days ago, when you wanted his head to be chopped off.

“I thought you passed on the party,” comes out quieter than expected. Like you’re actually afraid to say that, and he seems to know it when he tightens his arms around you for a moment. 

“‘s not a party though, is it? Only us three,” he murmurs, shrugging. You could think he doesn’t care coming from the tone, but the look in his eyes, the small glint in them, says otherwise. 

You scoff, pretending to be offended. Truth is, you’re far from offended right now. “Two is already a party.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Not a really reliable source, dove. But s’alright,” he says, tilting his head. He looks down at you and then kisses the top of your head. Not even bothered that a few minutes ago you wanted to punch him. “Let’s go already, hm? Probably you’d want to make some shit or else.”

“Or else,” you say. You have a lot to do, that’s true, but right now your focus is elsewhere—and that’s on his heart. You can hear how hard it is beating, the only indicator (besides the eyes) that he really wants to be here with you.

And If you doubted he has heart, now you really can see that, indeed, he has. Beating for no one else but you.

“You… can’t do that,” you say, without even looking at him. Your eyes are focused on the lantern nearby, the yellow light brightening the surroundings. “You can’t just say shit like that and expect I’ll be okay.”

“Listen—”

“—No. No, you should listen. I don’t want you to feel that you can say anything to me, to just come back without the consequences. Just promise me. It’s not hard, it’s not complicated, you know? Communication is actually easy, if you just try hard enough.”

For a few seconds, he’s quiet. Just like he was quiet on that accurst day, when everything got fucked up. You’re quick to open your mouth, but then, he answers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You lost your hearing or somethin’?” He tilts his head a little to the right. If Sparkles wouldn’t be in a transporter in his hand, you’d smack the shit out of him. “Maybe you do need a doctor’s visit.”

“I said so much and you—”

“There’s nothin’ for me to say. I know, and I acknowledged it,” he says, abruptly, his gaze hardening. “I fucked up. Not denying that, but right now, I want to make it right. That clear?”

That is clear, and as he’s seemingly a man of his words, you go to your apartment without any other word about the past. 

You learn that he’s more of an observer than a doer. He waits for your sign, for whatever that gives him a clear message about what he should and shouldn’t do. The effect of the military gets to him even in mundane tasks like hanging the lights or tossing around a few decorations there and there. Simon doesn’t speak until he finishes, and then he just stares at you, until you’re gonna give him the next instructions. 

You can’t help but laugh, when you do. He seems so lost when you do that, irritated at first, but he probably gets the message.

"I don't... do, this," he says, when he's busy rolling the dough with his rough hands. For a man like him, he's very tender with how he does it. Caring that you've told him how to do it, not using all of his power.

“Do what?” You look at him, tilting your head to the side. You know exactly what he means, but for what he put you through, he deserves to have a little struggle, to be more vocal about what he feels. He seems to know it, assuming that he pushes the dough to the surface a little harder.

“This stuff,” he explains. His way of explanation is a little different than yours, but you’ll take what he gives you.

“Baking?” 

“That too,” he mutters. “It’s weird to do this.”

“But, are you having fun?”

He nods, and you take it as a final answer. As you smile under your nose, you move on to the next step. You think you’re going to make everything on time, with help like him.

“My parents died on Christmas day.” 

Or not.

You drop your eggs a second later; it’s the first, genuine reaction at his sudden words. His quick reflex is the only thing that saves them from going to waste. “Christ, dove, just watch it.”

“Simon, I—”

“—Well, everyone died. Tommy, his wife, kids.” He shrugs, continuing the monologue. You don’t know if it’s a coping mechanism, trying to make it seem like it’s the most normal thing in the whole world, but in some way, it is concerning. “That… well. I just don’t do anythin’ on this day. Or before, really. I pretend it’s nothing special, so I don’t summon whatever that shit was years ago.”

To say that you’re shocked would be an understatement. You have to fight your tears right now, to completely not fall apart right in front of him. “How young were you?”

“Twenty two, I think.”

You put your hand on his—trying to console him, give him some support, even if he doesn’t look like he needs one. “I can’t tell you—”

“—No shit like this.” He looks up, crossing his gaze with yours. Despite his words, you see something in them. Something that quietly says thank you. “I’m a magnet for bad things, and for what it’s worth,” he looks at you, “I didn’t want to get you involved, if something would happen. Everyone around me dies, if I let them get too close.”

“You do know that it’s bullshit, right?” You look up at him; the choice of words isn’t exactly the best, but he seems to know that you mean, when his eyes cross with yours. “I’m so close, and I’m not going anywhere, Simon.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. See?” You put one of his hands on your waist, the second on your face. He doesn’t move them.

Simon’s eyes darken, second by second. They’re not a dark chocolate anymore, they resemble more of a dark ocean at midnight. It’s hard to find anything light in them. “I see, but you don’t seem to understand what I mean.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Then, explain it to me.”

“It’s a one way ticket. No backin’ out after this—”

“—I don’t want to back out, so.” You mimic his careless shrugging from earlier. It’s hard to ignore how he rolls his eyes at your act. “What?”

“You’re a brat. Should listen to the elders when they talk, not interrupt them.” He mutters, taking your chin so you could look at him better. “Maybe I could teach you some manners.”

You gulp. “Maybe you could.”

Maybe this interaction is something that needed to be said or done. Maybe Simon needed to reject you at first, and then come to you, so he would tell you part of his story, no filter. Maybe. 

You do not care about that, not right now.

“Stay… still,” he sighs right to your ear, his big hand going under your t-shirt. 

If you’d tell yourself that Simon Riley is going to be one of the most important people for you, the past you probably wouldn’t believe any of that. The first impression wasn’t the best, you were interested in him only because of the mystical aura surrounding him.

Yet, when one of his hands is under your t-shirt, the other on your throat, you couldn’t ask for a better place to be.

[lexikamics]

Luka Character Analysis

While all the characters in alien stage deal with some theme of control given the fact that they are literally pets I wanna explore how Luka deals with this theme specifically.

This is all my opinion and I would love to hear if u disagree or have anything to add cause I loveeee talking about this stuff. I’m probably just restating a bunch of stuff other ppl have said but I think I got some new stuff here… hopefully.

Main points

1) he’s a designer baby

2) his branding location

3) his heart

4) his age

5) his training

6) how this control leads to him manipulating others

7) other things

Luka is THE designer baby

Luka’s biology is not even something he can control. Even his genetics were designed by aliens showing how not even his nature and bodily functions is not something he has autonomy over.

Luka has surgery scars possibly from treatments done to benefit the aliens.

(From Luka’s bday post) Luka looks towards possible attempts to create him or recreate him IN HIS BIRTHDAY POST. This image always has an affect on me omg..

“Luka was born this way because I created him” (the guardian interview thing)

Luka’s Branding

All of the other main characters in alien stage have their brand either on their arms, neck, or shoulder area. This is why it’s odd that Luka’s branding is on his hip. This could mean a lot of things and probably does but my ongoing analysis is this. Brands are meant to be seen, they exist so people can look at them. Lukas is the only one with a brand in a place that stays hidden.

To me this is because the aliens like Luka because he appears to want to participate in Alien stage. He appears to enjoy being on stage and barely even wears a collar. In the same vain his brand is hidden as Heperu, his alien, doesn’t want other aliens to see Luka’s reluctance. He places his brand in a place inconspicuous so that the aliens can pretend Luka has control over himself. This is aided by the extent of Heperu’s control as it is so ingrained in Luka that even if it isn’t acknowledged Luka has no other choice but to obey. The fact that Luka can appear so willing is proof of just how much agency he lacks.

Another advantage of his branding placement is that while it remains hidden to other people it is obvious to Luka. It is very easy to see something on your hip when compared to you neck. The brand is to remind Luka he is under control while not reminding anyone else.

(Guys I couldn’t find the bigger version) when getting branded Luka lifts up his shirt while others seem unconscious or constrained. Showing just how deeply Luka is controlled that he willingly helps getting branded in order to give himself the illusion of a choice.

His Heart

Luka has immense control of his heartrate like his first song is literally called “ruler of my heart”. (For this section I assume the amount of purple on his finger correlates with the pumping of his heart.)

Luka was trained since birth to control his heart rate and fear. This reflects how even his most basic and unconscious actions are manipulated in order to benefit Heperu. It shows how collar or not he is under Heperu’s control.

An aspect of this can be seen in the flashbacks from All In when after the incident with Hyun Woo his finger tips turn purple. Whether Luka is surprised by this because it shows he was able to change his own heart-rate for the first time or because his heart-rate changed without him allowing it is ambiguous. Regardless it shows how even during important emotional situations Luka is always striving for more control over his heart just as Heperu had intended.

(Both images from the interview w Luka)

His Age

Luka is 30 years old. All the other competitors are in their early twenties, a time in your life when you are still not completely independent. Many people their age are in higher education and may still live with their parents. While other competitors should definitely have much more independence then they do they still are children in a way. Overall compared to the other contestants Luka is supposed to be in a stage of his life with much more autonomy. This further reflects his lack of control as he is at an age when he should be in control of himself and still has less freedom than a toddler.

Training

Growing up Luka has been under much more training than most. Heperu often trained him or outreached doctors and specialists to help make him into Heperu’s image. Heperu himself even notes it more extreme than what most aliens do showing how even compared to other humans Luka has very little agency as most other aliens simply enroll their humans into Anakt Garden.

(guardian interview)

(Interview with Luka)

Luka’s diet being monitored also shows how Heperu controls all aspects of Luka and how this harms Luka.

How this leads to Luka being manipulative.

This affects the way he interacts with the stage. I’ve seen many people say he manipulates his fellow competitors to survive and while I think this is in part the reason, given how his popularity already protects him I don’t think it’s the main one.

Luka controls his heart rate not only because he was so thoroughly taught to but because he wants to himself. Being able to have complete control over his body and actions brings him comfort as he has usually has none. His heart rate is something that only he can change which leads him to control it heavily and this pattern continues outside of his heart as well.

On the stage Luka does the same thing. He manipulates the performance and his performance mate for the sake of simply being able to. It’s clear his owner has no control over his performance. He seems shocked when Luka is beat up by Mizi while Luka clearly had pushed her to do so. The stage is the only place Luka is given autonomy and as such he wants control to the fullest extent pushing him to control every aspect of the stage, including others.

This is seen when Luka frowns as soon as Till notices Mizi as suddenly the round is out of Luka’s control.

In a way it’s a self fulfilling prophecy as his whole life Luka has been controlled to benefit Heperu and now the only way he can achieve any sort of control is by doing exactly what heperu wants. To gain control of his heart he has to give into his training. To gain control of the stage he has to win. Even the control Luka does have has little power. He can do what he wants but it changes none of the effects.

(Lukas interview) shows Luka is less focused on survival on stage and instead performance and control.

The whole comic where Hyuna describes singing as the one place she has control over herself to Luka describes this rlly well. Especially as when she does this the text is placed over Luka singing showing how he himself uses singing as his only pathway to freedom. This is even further explored in the last panel where Luka says that Hyuna is his. While interpreted as something sweet by Hyuna it definitely could have darker undertones when considering Luka’s tendencies to control anyone he can, or even foreshadow what happened to Hyun Woo.

Other stuff

Theory:

Now we’re getting into theory territory. The resistance has attempted twice to rescue someone. Both happen to be on Luka’s matches. Luka specifically led to Mizi’s ability to be rescued, directly pushing her to fight him which led to Hyuna having the chance to take her. It is possible Luka could be working with Hyuna.

With this theory you could also explain the moment where Luka gets upset when Till notices Mizi. If Luka is aware of Hyuna’s plan and Mizi being in the crowd ruined it, then it would be reasonable that he would accidentally break his mask by showing his distress at this.

This is definitely a reach of some sort but I think the concept could still be interesting as it implies Luka could’ve escaped with Hyuna but instead chose to stay to help others escape, or due to brainwashing. Possibly leading to Hyuna’s complicated feelings towards Luka. Overall though Hyuna and Luka’s relationship needs to explored a lot more before any of this could be close to true.

Character profile

Luka is the only character whose profile shows neither his likes nor dislikes, this could represent how due to the extreme control Heperu has over him he has been unable to form his own identity or express any of his opinions.

The end

Anyway that’s my rambling. Definitely missed some stuff but hoped you liked it. Thank you for reading this. All this is my opinion and I would love to hear critiques and other opinions please anything if it means more content.