#the perspective is butt cheeks

[sillybeck]

do you guys think its gay to give your bro your jacket and stare at him lovingly??

we are so back with muckles

[temptresstitania]

if it doesn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to people with long hair or freckles or wide hips or dark brown eyes that look almost black, then it shouldn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to fat people. If it's not inherently a fetish to say you like people with sculpted backs or toned arms or six packs or small breasts or a coke bottle figure, then why would it be fetishistic to like a soft face with a double chin, or a round stomach, or big legs rippling with cellulite or stretch marks on rolls. you can find a fat person attractive. you can love the way their cheeks press up to meet the corners of their eyes, or the way their arms look, or the way their love handles spill out of their clothes. you can just. like fat people. you can say you like fat people. do you ever think how strange it is? how someone may think you're some sort of "perverse" weirdo for just...liking a body? how strange it is to put these precursory disclaimers of "not to be weird, but", "I don't mean it in that way, but", "I'm not a chubby chaser, but", or "I know it's kind of problematic, but..." could you imagine if it was any other body?

"not to sound like a muscle gain fetishist, but I love women with athletic bodies. It might sound weird, but I love short kings. I don't mean it in a weird way, but I love girls with hip dips."

It would seem strange. unnecessary. one may even assume there is some sort of guilt or fear you're hiding because it's normal to have things you like. it's normal to find certain things cute, hot, sexy.

you can sexually desire fat people and enjoy that they are fat. you can do that.

also, if you genuinely have a fetish (or deep sexual attraction if u for whatever reason are uncomfortable with the word fetish) for something that is found on larger bodies (bellies, fupas, thighs, underarms with fat/breast tissue in them, sagging breasts, big arms with skin that wobbles, cankles), or for a bigger body in and of itself (because I know some of y'all still want to sever yourselves from this), there is nothing wrong with that. people have fetishes for hands and teeth and earlobes and kneecaps and butts and shoulders and calves. what makes their thing any more acceptable than yours? there is nothing wrong with being aroused by bigger bodies.

please do not add tags and reblog this with "except when such and such is involved". I am not bringing those situations up for a reason. do not attempt to pivot this post into a thinkpiece on the objectification and/or abuse of fat bodies, ESPECIALLY if you yourself are not fat.

this is coming from the perspective of a Black person. Namely, a Black Nigerian-American person. Where I come from, there is a cultural, pre-colonial practice of gaining weight (and yes, particularly getting fat) to accentuate beauty. my body was handed down to me lovingly by my ancestors. i love my fat.

and if you love it too, that's okay. ♡

[murdrdocs]

yknow what…….. you should elaborate more on after shows w/ rockstar bf hobie……

mhm ik what ur asking for ... and i will deliver fem!reader

he always comes off the stage drenched in sweat. a bright look in his eyes, prominent cheekbones glowing with happiness instead of just sweat. he chats to a few people on the way down, dapping them up as he goes, and you stand just a little bit away, rocking back and forth on your feet, playing with the rings hobie's gotten you, gnawing on your lip as he gets closer, and closer, and closer.

until sweat-slickened hands are pulling you into him by the waist, your hands finding the cotton of his muscle tee. he asks you the same question that he always does ("what'd you think?"), and you give the same answer as always ("was amazing") and then he kisses you, just like he always does.

there's some more time where he's dragged into different places, his hand in yours as you walk behind him, then his hands on your hips as he walks you in front of him. he talks to his mates, fingers tapping along the denim of your skirt, angular jaw resting on your shoulder and you can practically feel the anticipation buzzing from his body.

you finally end up outside, under a streetlight with your backs against the wall of the pub. hobie smokes a cig while he listens to you tell him about what the show looked like from your end, something he makes you do as he values your opinion (though he says it like it doesn't matter but his attentive eyes say otherwise).

the last drag is taken, you've finished your spiel, hobie stomps the butt out into the asphalt with his boots, and then his hands are pulling you into him, slender fingers hooking into your belt loops to encourage the movement.

your hands collide with his chest, he stares down at you, dark eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips, and then his lips are on yours.

it's usually like this, intensely making out just steps away from where he'd performed, a few feet away from where he'd laid almost all of his heart and soul out, always leaving just enough left to give to you.

your back ends up against the wall and hobie crowds your space. he tastes like cigarettes, and a little like beer, with a tinge of the gum you'd given him when he'd asked for it a few minutes ago. he smells like you, and like him, a mixture that works more than it should.

his hands are warm and rough when they meet your thighs, thumbs on the innermost parts of your skin. they dig into the flesh in a silent command to spread your legs more, one you easily obey. it gives access for hobie's deft fingers to push your panties aside.

he takes a step closer, his head dips down, he pecks your cheek. "d'you want me to stop?" it's always the same question, formatted slightly different each time.

and each time, you shake your head.

there are some nights where you just talk, his arm slung around your waist, your head rested somewhere on his chest or shoulders, a cigarette either between his lips or fingers as he tells you stories that he somehow hasn't told you before. those nights end with you back at either of your places, in a position similar to this one.

but there are other nights, most nights if you're honest, where hobie looked so good on stage from your perspective, and he had adrenaline pumping through his veins that couldn't be quelled with spiderman duties, and neither of you could wait to get home so the side of a pub was the next best place.

his fingers work you in ways that only he can do, and as you start to unravel from his ministrations, you don't have any worries about being seen because you know that in the off chance that would happen, hobie would handle it. he always does.

[greentrickster]

It occurs to me that, in light of his discovery about Shang Qinghua's true nature and relationship to the world, and of his own place within all this, Mobei-jun's probably going to become just a touch insufferable, though not in the way he usually is. Like, the biggest hurdle to the Moshang relationship from his perspective is that he's never, ever been able to get a solid read on this weird servant of his. Mobei-jun can't figure it out for himself, Shang Qinghua refuses to explain himself or ask for anything other than his own life even as he makes himself indispensable and pulls off these amazing acts of service, but he also seems terrified of Mobei-jun a lot of the time, and, frankly, yeah, I'd be confused and irritable as heck after a couple decades of mixed signals like this too. And that's on top of having some very well-founded and (given his life experiences) extremely understandable trust issues.

(Because, while Airplane is genuinely my favorite, I can also acknowledge that, from Mobei-jun's perspective, he probably looks shadier than Reigan from MP100.)

Except now? Now. Now Mobei-jun knows why Shang Qinghua's always been so squirrely and secretive, why he's always been devoted to Mobei-jun even while terrified of him, why he never responds to Mobei-jun's overt courting tactics in spite of seeming to find him attractive... he's got all the pieces. Including that absolute, most important of pieces:

Shang Qinghua loves him best. Shang Qinghua has always loved him best.

I think that knowledge makes him melt a bit. Not because of who or what Shang Qinghua is, but because Mobei-jun finally, finally understands this strange little man, and that means it's finally safe to trust him, fully and completely.

Of course this makes our favorite popsicle melt a bit. And, when popsicles melt a bit, it's only natural that they get a little sticky.

Which is to say Airplane is never going to have to worry about touch-starvation again, because he's going to be getting all the hugs and cuddles and pats (and affectionate (and very careful) slaps and pinches, because Mobei-jun's doing his best to respect boundaries but he's still a demon and this is part of their culture, society, and nature (and also because Airplane has come to the conclusion that if Mobei-jun gets to have a go at his cheeks every now and then, then Airplane gets to smack the butt in retaliation, and Mobei-jun has yet to disabuse him of this notion)). Also just picked up and carried around sometimes, because Qinghua's legs are so short and he works so hard, it is unfitting to make him work extra to keep up with Mobei-jun (which is definitely the only reason he's doing this, not because he just wants to carry Qinghua around like his favorite cuddle toy just because he can, really).

There's at least one Peak Lord meeting that Shang Qinghua arrives to via Mobei-jun carrying him there bridal style. This is also the meeting where everyone has to deal with the fact that Shang shidi has a demon king hugging his waist while laying his head in Shang shidi's lap, because Qinghua needed to attend this meeting, but Mobei-jun wasn't ready to stop cuddling yet.

And when everyone makes extremely reasonable noises about maybe not having a demon king in attendance while they went over private sect affairs and maybe Mobei-jun should leave, the giant brat just looks at them all with one eye and says, "No, I'm his favorite." And then closes his eye again and proceeds to ignore them all in favour of sticking his face in Qinghua's stomach and having a nap.

Meaning now they all have to live with the knowledge that Shang shidi is the most important being in the world and what his taste in men is like.

Shang shidi going, "I mean... he's right, and also I've been telling him stuff about these meetings for years and also, like... you can't really stop me." does not help.

[beforeimdeceased]

i’m so happy to see more ppl starting to write about sub ellie and i loved ur recent one!! do you think you could write subby loser ellie x mean reader? <3

nsfw! 𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩

i love being self indulgent. i didn’t know tlou tumblr fucked with sub!ellie like that, so as a dom i’ve been writing essentially from another perspective. i’m so happy i get to be in my element, i hope you like this.

sub!ellie vs being degraded (she loses everytime) sat between your spread legs, butt against your crotch. you’ve got her spread open, hand tracing shapes on her inner thighs but refusing to give attention to where she needs it.

“please.” she whines, bottom lip stuck in her teeth. face scrunched out of frustration. “fuck.”

“oh, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” you laugh, kissing the nape of her neck. she whines and it causes you to take your hands off her. you move them to her chin, forcing her to look back up at you. “what did i tell you about making all that fucking noise? if you want something you need to say it. use your words.”

and she’s about to cry, actually, she is crying. a tear slips down her cheek. puppy eyes staring up at you, lips finding themselves fixing into a pout. she just wants your touch and can barely think enough to ask. plus, the way you’re talking to her has her sodden.

you ignore her. let her cry and pout and whine until she finally calms herself. “i need you. please. i need you to touch me.”

bonus points for asking, but all that crying has got you lacking mercy. you slip a hand down over her dripping heat, collecting some on the tip of your fingers and rubbing it all over her clit. she digs her fingers into your arm, throwing her head back and bucking up into your touch. “fuck that- right there.” she cries out.

you wait until she’s shaking, struggling to compose herself. moaning your name out, breathing heavy. chest pulsing, nails nearly drawing blood into your skin. then you lean your head forward to whisper in her ear. “you better not fucking come until i tell you to, you don’t want to find out what happens if you do.”

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe. This technically takes place in my series "Take A Chance On Me," after Soldier Boy and the reader have become a couple, but can be read as stand alone. (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Series Masterlist

*********************************************************

Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

****************************************

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for the Take A Chance On Me Series, please let me know :)

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my other series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[authorhjk1]

Surviving NNN

Part Four: Permission

You are glad Chaewon didn't catch you staring that day. It would have been really embarassing. And how would you explain that to Karina, if Chaewon would tell her?

You sigh in exhaustion as you walk out of your room. You almost failed just a second ago. It wasn't even because of one of the girl's comments or the way they dress around you. It was a video of Yena, who is currently in Hong Kong for a couple of days.

All kind of thoughts ran through your head, until you couldn't hold back any longer. You locked your door, trying to do this without someone walking in. You already accepted the fact that you lost this bet.

As soon as you pulled down your pants, you heard Minju's voice from the kitchen.

"Oppa? I need help!"

"What is it?"

You reach the kitchen, barely able to hide your annoyance. You are almost convinced by now, that three girls are trying to make you fail.

Minju looks at you with her best puppy eyes.

"I can't reach the flour."

Minju turns around to show you. She gets on her tiptoes, but her fingers barely graze the cabinet in which you keep the flour. As she does this stretching motion, you realize what a tight fit Minju's jeans are. Her butt looks like a ripe peach. Her cheeks are round and full. They must feel so good when...

You catch yourself drifting off again.

"I will get it for you."

"Thanks, oppa."

She stops reaching for it, the gap between her top and her jeans closes. Even the skin on her back makes it hard for you to concentrate. How many more days can you hold out?

You hesitate, when Minju doesn't walk away. She still stands right in front of the cabinet, her back facing you.

Slowly walking up to her, you reach for the handle of the door. You don't even need to get on your tiptoes. But because Minju is standing in the way, you slightly have to lean over her.

Your heart stops when you feel her butt against you, partially against your crotch.

Perspective: Minju

Minju is not able to hide a smirk as she ever so slightly moves her hips.

Come on. Take the bait.

Unbeknownst to you, the three girls and your girlfriend have their own bet going on. If they are able to seduce you, before the month is over, they can do whatever they want with you. It explains Minju's and Chaewon's outfits and Yena's scene in the bathroom

Minju slightly grinds her ass against you. It's barely noticable. But she can feel how hard you are. When she heard you lock the door a couple of moments ago, she knew what was going on. You were about to lose. She couldn't have that, unless you use her holes to make yourself cum.

The young woman gasped in surprise and admiration as Karina showed the girls a picture of you for the first time. A full picture. Your whole body. Naked. Karina took it right before the two of you started fucking. Minju still wonders how you didn't notice.

Her eyes were glued to your abs and your crotch. She has been with a couple of men before, but she never saw someone that big. Only on some specific online sites.

After the picture and Karina's bet, Minju was sure about one thing. She would have to seduce you. She wants to feel you. Your body pressed against hers. Almost like you are doing right now.

---------

You finally get the flour and put it on the counter.

"There you go."

"Thank you, oppa."

Minju seems somehow disappointed.

You give her a smile, before grabing your ipad and getting comfortable on the couch. The scene just now gave you inspiration for your lyrics.

You keep glancing at Minju, who is starting to work in the kitchen. She promised you and Chaewon pancakes.

Perpsective: Chaewon

The young woman leans her head against the headboard of her bed. A deep, sultry moan escapses her lips. her hand is trapped between her legs, her clothes a forgotten pile next to the bed.

Her eyes are closed as she mumurs your name. Chaewon is so jealous of Karina. She became a star way before your girlfriend did. If Chaewon had the opportunity to ask you out first...

Her mind drifts off as she thinks about the moment a couple of days ago. She could see how you were undressing her with your eyes. It made her whole body warm up. It made her core tingle. What were you imagining?

Going down on her? Chaewon sighs heavily as she thinks about it. She would be lying just like this, while you would eat her out.

Making out with her? Chaewon unconsiously makes the motions wither tongue and lips. As if you are actually kissing her.

Fucking her? Chaewon arches her back off the bed as she imagines it. Your cock deep inside her snug hole as you take her hard. Her moans and shouts as you fuck her, making Minju and Yena listen.

Chaewon can almost feel your lips on the skin on her neck as you lean over her, fucking her into the mattress. In her mind, she makes you cum. Rope after rope of your load paints her insides.

Chaewon gasps and shakes as she fingers herself to her own orgasm. Her body and mind becoming one. The scenario in her head almost feeling real.

Once she comes down from her high, she just lies there. Breathlessly, covered in sweat as she hears you talk to Minju in the kitchen. A big smile plays around Kim Chaewon's lips.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Perfect Find

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist • ko-fi •

Summary: You and Steven look through the local charity shops.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Just some fluffy old fluff.

Warnings: swearing, set in the UK, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 590

You gasp excitedly as you hold up the shirt. “Steven, what about this one?” 

His eyes light up when he sees it and rushes around from the other side of the clothing rail. “It’s perfect!” He touches the material lightly, it’s cotton, or at least some kind of cotton blend. Whatever it was, it doesn’t make him feel like he needs to peel his skin off after coming into contact with it. 

“This charity shop has everything,” he laughs as he takes the shirt, a short sleeved button down, out of your hands and looks at the price. £6.00, not bad. 

The shirt itself is a vibrant sky blue, intercut with swirls of white that in all honestly neither of you are one hundred percent sure if they are meant to be clouds or waves. Though most likely the latter considering the main pattern of the material. It is covered with swimming goldfish, all from a bird’s eye perspective. 

You notice the black t-shirt slung in the crook of Steven’s arm and point to it. “Found something else?” 

It takes him a moment to drag his eyes away from the goldfish before he looks up to you and smiles. “For Marc.” 

You’re about to say how thoughtful that is of him, until Steven holds the t-shirt up and you can read the text on the front. ‘My depression is chronic, but this ass is iconic.’

You can’t help the sudden bout of laughter that spills from your lips. “Oh my god…”

“I know, right?” Steven gives you the biggest shit eating grin.

“He’s gonna hate that.”

“He is.” Steven says with an almost perverse glee. “Loathe it, utterly, utterly loathe it.”

You walk with Steven as he takes his purchases to the till. “Is this payback for him hiding your Hanukkah jumper?” 

“Not in the slightest.” He grins. “Just part of the payback.” 

You giggle. 

“I’m gonna wear this t-shirt every time I know we’ve got planned switching time. See how long it takes before he notices the writing.” 

“Could be a while.” You smile. 

Marc was very observant when it came to outside things, other people, the landscape, he wasn’t however so concerned with what he was wearing as long as it was comfortable and fairly plain. The writing on the t-shirt was just small enough that there was a good chance he wouldn’t pay attention to it straight away. Especially if Steven put a hoodie or a plain-ish shirt over the top (unbuttoned of course). 

“Oh, I intend to make sure it is.” Steven beamed as he then turned to the cashier, greeted them and paid for the shirt and t-shirt. 

You absentmindedly touch the t-shirt as you put it into your canvas bag and sling it over your arm. It’s soft, comfortable. And you smile. You know, just as Steven does, that deep, deep, deep down, Marc will quite like the t-shirt. 

He’ll grumble a little of course, probably give you both a playful roll of his eyes and tut. But he won’t take it off. He won’t throw it away. 

You’ll find him wearing it of his own free will in bed, and on lazy mornings in the flat. And even outside when the urge takes him. 

“I can carry those, love.” Steven smiles at you as you carry the bag, but you shake your head. 

“It’s fine.” 

He tuts, a sound that is so different to Marc, and kisses your cheek as you both head outside into the high street and the next charity shop. 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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[sukunasun]

i wonder who which jjk men are into boobs, butt or legs in the debate 🤔

a.n. should preface this by noting that these parts have their advantages from a functional perspective (i.e. a mouth feels better than a hand) but when it comes to attraction...to each their own. preferences don't mean one lacks in comparison to the other. breasts, butt, belly, and everything else are all beautiful in their own way. they'd like you head to toe. that being said, this is less about appearances and more that every lover fucks in irreplicable ways + how it has influenced their tastes.

geto is an enigma...he'd choose the unpredictable parts and the brain happens to be one of them. mainly because sex is just as much a creative process and he gets bored easily. think up a roleplay scenario and watch how his eyes light up, try a risky position, doggy and missionary are overdone, and show him that toy you really want because it has seven speed levels and fourteen vibrational patterns. the possibilities are endless. the foreplay takes precedence, he doesn't mind pushing the boundaries or "broadening our horizons," as he puts it.

you forget he has whole other sides to him. he gets as passionate and all-consuming as his love for you. heart skipping a beat when he pulls back the curtains and fucks you hard against a window. presents you to the world without fear or shame, just that he's always wanted to try it. 'try' being the keyword here, something about your body being his body too. geto doesn't think he'd learn you well without sneaking in a few surprises.

copping a feel is the same as stealing an innocent kiss. leaving them in uninhabited spots. they're too obvious, too exciting. a secret you two share. no one wants to see his tongue licking a stripe down the nape of your neck while you're busy preparing dinner for company or that they can practically hear the two of you going at it in the bathroom. you can't help the squeal you let out, it's his fault for slipping his thumb past your asshole.

you don't bother to ask why he's so bold. geto's not the kind to elaborate too much outside the bedroom but within those four walls, he's got a dirty mouth, a wicked tongue, and he needs communication. talk you through it and the like. commentary is sexy when he tells you just how perfect you feel, how tight, how wet, how good you are when you milk his cock like you're hungry for it. his come feels so hot, sticking to you like honey, coating your insides like a mark—so tell him. let your mouth do the work.

-------------

gojo on the other hand has an eye for pretty things. loves the art of the tease. spends all the time in the world watching behind his blindfold, letting out longing sighs with cheek pressed into palm fantasizing about lines and shapes fitted upon and in his hands. how large they are, he likes to take his time running them down sloping shoulders, a waist curving inwards, and mouth-watering thighs.

his eyes are just drawn to them, supple and succulent, he likes to get his full of it. all that plump flesh in his hands, you have no business being this sexy. in a pair of jeans, in leggings, or when they peek from below short pretty dresses. diaphanous thing damp with more than just water but your sweaty skin and slick, dripping pussy. it hints and hides just enough, not too much. accentuating, revealing something he can't wait to have. loves that bit of chub that sticks out when you wear thigh-high socks and garters. "you think im letting you leave the house like that?" he warns, fingers tugging at the elastic, wanting to rip them apart. then holds onto it when he drives you anywhere because he’s clingy isn't he? his fingers mark you with heat and his intent to get crushed like a watermelon between them, even when you do the ‘hovering’ straddling thing so you don't 'hurt' him. which is impossible. gojo is more than capable.

he'll pull you back down, wanting to feel your full weight atop him, grips onto them and watches as they tremble and shake. it's the best part. he'll kiss them, bite into the raw skin. not to mention it feels so soft when he’s laying his head on them, feeling you brush his hair back, "i could stay here forever..." he says and means it.

-------------

sukuna wants vulnerability. or rather he expects it of you when he doesn't intend to be gentle. call it arrogance, call it knowing what he likes but sex is also an act of trust and sukuna's the most unwilling when he isn't convinced he has a partner who—for lack of a better term—'matches his freak'. it's ironic when he'll ask "what's in it for me," but transactional, no-strings-attached sex still requires defenselessness.

so it matters that your reactions are a drug and he wants more each time. how you get feistier, friskier, bit by bit as he continues to pinch and prod. your pleasure matters, but don't get there on your own. not before he gets a taste of smooth skin and how it gives under his teeth. tits and ass are so pedestrian, he prefers the more... susceptible parts. a neck, a rib, and an ankle are all very prone to nasty accidents. it'll only hurt more when he won't apologise for the occasional biting bruise or stinging slap. your yelp of excitement is more than a green light for him to yield, inflicting just that little bit of pain.

he's got a tight grip on your wrists, after he's left languid, sloppy kisses down the length of your forearm, he won't say that he loves when you smell like him. a touch is never innocent but territorial when he leaves behind traces.

stop struggling. sukuna's a huge weight atop you like tonnes of water and it stays that way until he's done fucking you. how weak and helpless you are. but it never really ends there, his fingers like to linger, dipping them between the soiled mess you made, so what if he's come inside and you're sensitive, maybe he wants more, maybe he likes the trembling edges of your body, the way your eyes roll back, the choking, garbled plea that spills from you. begging not to stop but to make it last, harder, faster, i want to be full of you—a suffocating closeness.

-------------

there's no need to rush, nanami likes to take his time. won't say he's fervent but he is tired, so he'll rest his head upon a soft stomach. he pulls you in closer every time he's sat by the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to yours.

buries his face and kisses a line down your sternum while he inhales sweet wafts of your perfume along the way, goosebumps rising to meet chapped lips and feeling that scratchy caress in return. you thank him with the soothing stroke of your fingers, parting blonde strands and massaging those temples. his groan tells you all you need to know. there's nothing better than his dear, bowing head.

he holds onto your middle as you bounce on his dick in reverse cowgirl. wild and wanting he guides you from below and you don't see the cogs turning in his head from where he watches over your shoulder. how could you, you're too busy feeling full from how big and sturdy he feels. chest so broad and steadying you like a brick wall. it's then his two large hands trail down, hot to the touch, to cup your womb in this warm and...careful hold.

he leaves them there while the bulging spot juts up to meet his pressing fingers, where the head of his cock is no doubt pummelling your cervix. it's too deep, knocking the wind out of you, but you won't stop him. his thumb caresses the shape, the skin, whole palm pressing down and judging by the scream you let out the pressure is immense. in and out, he's more transfixed with how big he is, how much he fills you up, and how you take him so well.

-------------

toji is a simple man with simple tastes. call it an oral fixation. a pussy tastes like heaven and feels even more so. all the things you could do with one, make her come, make her edge, he definitely prides himself on giving you the best orgasms with just his mouth or fingers. there's no need to complicate things, this man loves money but he might love pussy just a little more.

he doesn't get squeamish, toji stuffs his face and goes to town every time. hands spreading your legs apart, cupping your ass, he likes it when you grip his head tight too, either way, he's making out with it, hungrily lapping with tongue broad and flat, he licks and finds his way deeper.

in the middle of the night, he reaches under the covers for a feel. it's so soft and pliant when he slips his fingers in. he doesn't need to do much as you stir awake, toji kisses behind your ears, feeling you spread for him. "let me play with it," he grunts out, like he woke up and decided he needed to finger you.

there's jolt running up his spine the moment the head of his cock meets the slick, sticky folds of your pussy. he glides and stains the sheets with your combined juices, this wetness that clings to him. thin strands connected everytime he tap, tap, taps. if he were less eager he might just wait it out, let the tip kiss your clit and make it twitch.

but you're so swollen and ready for him, for when he stretches you out so wide you feel him splitting you in half. your aching back and hips can't withstand his heavy, brutal thrusts. pounding and pounding, you swallow him up like nothing, coated in cream and dripping with squirted mess, still spits on it because he can. squeezing him tight like a vacuum, he could never replicate this with his hand. maybe it's why he's so addicted, the sight of his cock moving in and out from between your splayed legs is better than a dream.

[justasecretflower]

💐Inyuasha! Men as boyfriends🤍

Incl- inyuasha, miroku, Naraku, Koga, Sesshomaru, Jinenji

Feudal Japan! Era

~ fluff, head canons.

CW- mentions of baby trapping!!

__________________________________________

Inyuasha

-bullying you is his love language /canon

- if he gets clingy, don’t say a word or else he’s yelling at you to shut up with a flushed face.

- tries to do your hair, gives up, gets frustrated, almost cries.

- calls lovey dovey stuff corny.

- hates pda..he won’t do it

- Likes laying his head on your lap and you scratching behind his ear.

- gives rare, but lingering loving kisses alone.

- if he’s feeling extra caring he’ll maybe hit you with a “love…”

Miroku

-I’m gonna fight miroku he’s so weird…

- constantly has a hand on your butt or thigh.

- he’s such a pervert

-will say proudly yell out inappropriate compliments / comments about you. With people around.

-wants kids so bad. Wants like a million /canon

- has a baby name list alr

-very open about his love for you. No matter what. If you’re gone for like a second he’ll pull a “guys..I miss my partner…😔”

-it’s a little pathetic.

-constantly saying he’s gonna wife you up he doesn’t care how long you’ve been dating.

-he buys you expensive stuff all the time and then brags about it to other people.

-“men..we gotta pamper our ladies…😏”

Naraku

- #1 Naraku disliker

-anyway, he’s super manipulative. He looks at you like a pretty doll and nothing more.

- you’re bright, you’re pretty, you can be manipulated. You’re perfect.

-he’d be the type that if you wanted to leave he’d baby trap you..

-and then make you take care of the baby all alone..he’ll still be in a relationship with you just not take care of the kid

-sorry I’m not feeding into ur delusions. I can’t.

- he has servants pamper you, at all times of the day, so that when he comes home you’re sat right outside the door looking pretty and fresh for him.

-materialistically everything is yours.

- late at night, when he’s sure you’re asleep, he’ll kiss you softly on the tip of your nose and mutter a small “I love you.”

-that’s all you’re getting. Sorry!!

Koga

- he always is holding hands with you or has his hand on the small of your back.

- he likes the little nose rub kiss.

- he likes to just take in your scent time to time (not in a weird way duh..)

- tells his people that you’re his future spouse and parent of your future children.

-always somehow brings you up in conversation.

- tells you it was love at first sight. (For him it was)

- “hello my beautiful wife/husband/spouse!!”

- “when we have kids…” and then he goes on a rant.

- he doesn’t care if you’re a wolf yokai or not. He fell in love at first sight and nothing will change that

-tells you multiple times a day how much he loves you.

-he’s so sweet:(

Sesshomaru

- let’s ignore the fact that he got with the girl he knew since she was 4. Then had twins with her.

-it’s so hard for him to express his love.

-he does it in small, chaste cheek kisses or deep kisses randomly.

-if you’re a human, he resents himself for loving you.

-but he can’t stop loving you.

-for him, you’re his first and greatest love, he can’t let you go even if you’re a mere mortal.

- often has you between his legs laying your head on his chest while he wraps his arms around you and burries his face in your neck

- lets you pet the fur on his wolf form

- after awhile, he tells you about his complicated relationship with his half breed brother and why he despises mortals so much.

-I hate saying this but truly love changed his perspective on humans if you were one.

- “my darling”

Jinenji

- my baby!!! :(

- he spent his whole life getting rocks literally thrown at him for existing, his appearance leading him to believe that he would forever be alone in his mothers cottage, taking care of her and the farm work until she died.

- when you came around he immediately was a stuttering, blushing mess.

-he couldn’t believe you weren’t scared of him, or thought he was ugly.

- it took him awhile to confess, but he did, while you were stargazing. It took him like 20 minutes to say “I like you..romantically”

- when you accepted he nearly passed out.

-he carries you around, he likes it when you kiss on his face.

-he nuzzles his face into your side all the time

-bends down to look you in the eye

-you never lift a finger when he’s around.

-asks his mom for advice

-tells his mom about you, oh, and she adores you. Calls you her daughter and makes food with you.

___________________________________________

In conclusion Jinenji my love.

I NEED MORE REQUESTS PLEASE.

Tags

[snowbunnywatching]

How would Danish highschools and unis change after the influx of Black students? How would policies and attitudes and curricula evolve to be respectful of the new arrivals' culture? What expectations would a Danish girl face, from her friends, parents, and authorities? What would the average Danish girl's social life be like?

How would life look like in the Africanized Denmark I described here?

Education Curricula would evolve to be more respectful of Black culture, as you say.

For example, history classes would take on a more comparative perspective. Instead of just studying Danish history, students would learn that while their ancestors were burying their kings in mounds of dirt, Egyptians were building the Great Pyramid of Giza.

Physical education would also change. The focus would shift from seeing physical activity as a component of well-being to seeing it as a requirement for sexual attractiveness.

Danish gymn classes of today are big on communal activities, teaching students how to be part of a team without the competitive focus of American phys ed. The purpose of the exercises aren't to "get in shape" as much as to give students the sensation of using their bodies, resulting in little more than a pair of healthy blushing cheeks.

This would all change in Africanized Denmark. Now the focus would be on being the most attractive version of yourself that you can be.

For the guys, this would consist of muscle-building exercises, like weight-lifting and push-ups. Mostly for the Black men, of course, with white guys being encouraged to take on the role of spotter.

The atmosphere would be very masculine, and (Black) students would be allowed to decorate the locker room with their favorite pin-ups.

For the girls, gym class would start with an individual weighing in front of the entire class. Weight losses would be commended, and girls would be warned not to become "chubby".

This would be followed by strenuous exercises designed to make your tummy tighter and your butt bigger. The only cheeks blushing would be those on your backside as you went through your twerking exercises.

Critical Race Theory would also play a central role in the curriculum. Students would be encouraged to explore the historical roots and contemporary manifestations of racism. This would include exploring and apologizing for subconcious racism among the Danish students themselves. I've written more about this here.

Expectations faced by Danish girls Danish girls in particular would be expected to extend their hospitality to the new arrivals.

Posting pro-BLM material on your social media profile would be expected and considered the bare minimum. Likewise attending anti-racist rallies. As our dark-skinned guests are greeted at the border, Danish teens would be marching and chanting in protest of police brutality against Blacks.

There would also be an expectation of dating the new arrivals. As a single Danish girl you would be expected to be on at least one dating or hookup app, advertising your desire to welcome a Black man into your bed.

This pressure would especially be felt by those girls blessed with a big booty. A bona fide PAWG in a relationship with a Danish guy would be accused of "wasting" her body on a white guy when a Black man would enjoy it so much more.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

A few headcanons for a relationship between Rip Wheeler and a shy, quiet, introverted fem!reader:

Protective!Rip dialed up 10000%

Walker ain’t even allowed to LOOK at you, much less speak to you beyond “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am.”

Whenever you go into town, Rip insists he goes with you, or he sends someone with you. He doesn’t like you going alone.

When things get rough on the ranch, he insists you stay in the cabin where it’s safe.

Rip tries really, really hard not to bring work home with him. But sometimes, it happens. And when it does, he’s clipped and cranky and there’s just this thundercloud hovering over him.

When he accidentally barks at you, and he sees you flinch, withdrawing away from him, he knows he messed up big time.

He’ll give you space and take that time to calm down. Then he’ll kiss your forehead and apologize for snapping at you.

One of his favorite things in the world is coming home to see you sitting on the porch, waiting for him.

Sometimes, you feel a little bad because he’s so tough and you’re not. But whenever those doubts slip out, Rip insistently shakes his head and he’s very happy to see that you manage to stay soft in a world that is unkind.

It’s a common occurrence when you’re talking to someone - in town, a ranch hand, etc - that Rip will be standing behind quiet, shy little you, while he’s back there glaring daggers and looking intimidating as a bear.

You are literally the only person on earth who can tease him about it and get away with it.

“Did you do your mean face?”

He just raises his eyebrows slightly, amused. “My what now?”

“Your mean face. That expression you use when you don’t want people lookin’ twice at me.”

You attempt to mimic him - puffing yourself up, putting on a stern face, narrowing your eyes - and it’s a rare thing to make Rip Wheeler laugh but you manage it.

Most of the time, Rip appreciates how shy and quiet you are.

And then there are other times, where it scares the hell out of him. You couldn’t hurt a fly but the world he knows, the world he exists in every day, could snuff you out as easily as a breath of wind on a candle flame. So he worries about you quite a bit.

And on very rare occasions, you and Rip butt heads about your differing perspectives.

He will always choose the gruff, direct, blunt route. To you, this is brash and comes across as callous.

You will prefer the sensitive, tactful option. To him, this is pussy-footing around the issue and it’s better to just deal with it.

Sometimes, you never truly reach a middle ground because you’re both so different. But you love each other like crazy so you agree to disagree.

You rarely set foot in the bunkhouse. Ever. It’s noisy and loud and Rip absolutely does NOT encourage you to go in there.

But you’re curious about it too because he spends a lot of time there. It’s such a big part of his life, alongside the ranch hands.

Ryan and Lloyd pester Rip about bringing you around so they can finally get to know this girl he’s gone soft for.

When Rip continually says no, Ryan and Lloyd tag-team you, inviting you to play some cards and have some fun on a Friday night.

When you show up, you realize you are leagues outside of your comfort zone. But Rip is glued to your side, shooting threatening looks at everyone to be on their best behavior while you’re around.

But as you warm up, the other ranch hands take a liking to you. Your quiet ways are refreshing in a boisterous bunkhouse of loud cowboys.

You’ll quickly learn how to speak up to be heard as they become more comfortable around you. It doesn’t take long before you start trash-talking like the best of them.

After that, the ranch hands have practically adopted you and they’re eager to show you how to rope, ride, etc.

Rip would rather not repeat the experience. Meanwhile you have a little extra bounce in your step.

“They liked me!”

He laughs softly and touches your cheek. “Of course they did, honey. Why wouldn’t they?”

You shrug and snuggle under his arm.

“Guess I just always thought I wasn’t tough enough for you, that’s all. That was fun though. We should do it again.”

Rip hums and shakes his head, brushing a kiss to your temple.

“That would mean I’d have to share you again, darlin’, and I ain’t makin’ a habit of that.”

Writing tag

[ewesless]

Lucifer is simultaneously closer to Barbatos's ass than I will ever be and his butt is blocking my view of Barbatos's. It's almost touching Barbatos's Barbooty. Nah trick of perspective those pancakes are like a mile apart.

Rocking out Cheek-to-Cheek with your beleaguered colleague/son-in-law sounds about right. Diavolo out there screaming louder than everyone else with his Red Devil Bubble 'I LOVE LUCY' t-shirt and Pride Attribute/Lucifer handmade fan in one hand, blue glowstick in the other, doing some wild Wotagei he choreographed himself and knocking people out with his Simping enthusiasm.

Twice. TWICE. IN A ROW. They have had his booty RIGHT THERE, yet obscured it like when the enchanting Devildom moon is concealed by storm clouds. I shall wait patiently for the clear night when the bewitching view of the full moon is unhidden once more. I have also taking matters into my own hands.

It's been a minute since I last talked about his rear end so I felt it was time.

I shall be a nuisance and oh what a nuisance I shall be! Almost as much of a nuisance as Lucifer was in this event 🙃

[roeroe-world]

could it be or could it not be? (a different world edition)

As requested❤️: @notapradagurl7

starring: bumper robinson as dorian haywood, keke palmer as ruby jacobs

set in 1993.

warning(s): detailed smut, harsh language, adult situations

“I really don’t understand why out of all people your partner has to be her.” Lena sends the male an eye roll, not bothering to even glance in her boyfriend’s direction. Dorian and Lena strolled alongside one another into the lobby, annoyance pouring over both of their frames.

“Don’t start, Lena. I told you Ruby and I are just friends.” He sighs heavily.

The couple were having a slight argument over Dorian’s assignment. This appointed assignment isn’t just the issue, it’s who the assignment is being conducted with. In Lena’s perspective, she thinks her lover should have been paired with someone else.

“Just friends? Oh, please…” With a wave of her manicured hand, her petite body plops onto the couch.

Dorian’s head shakes side to side, occupying the space next to her before leaning in to place a kiss upon her lips. His arms snaking around her neck. Instantaneously, her head turns in the opposite direction as her tongue drags along her cheek. The scene caught the attention of a few familiar individuals.

“Oop, I’m sensing some tension over here. Y’all having a couple’s fight again?” Gina quizzes, eyes darting between the two nosily and carefully.

“How about you mind your business and go back to wherever you came from, big mouth.” Lena insults nonchalantly yet irritation present in her tone. Both Gina and Charmaine’s head tilt backward in pure offense.

“Dang, what’s the matter with you?” Charmaine butts in, the duo welcoming themselves amongst the couch as well. “Yeah, exactly. What is the matter with you? I keep telling you that Ruby and I being partners for this project was completely unintentional. The professor partnered us up. We had absolutely nothing to do with this.” Dorian’s gaze piercing passionately into his girlfriend’s canvas in hopes of her understanding his side.

“Ruby? As in fine Ruby Jacobs?” Terrell makes his presence known, catching wind of the conversation. He takes a seat along the arm of the couch.

Immediately, Lena sits up. “See—” She began frustratingly. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t be just friends with a girl like that.” Her intense gaze falling upon the male, eyelids squinting. “Look me in my eye and tell me that you’re not attracted to her. You better not lie neither.”

Dorian finds himself laughing in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his girlfriend could be this way, so insecure. He’d never given her any reason to feel inferior nor intimidated by another woman. But all of that changed when Ruby transferred to Hillman.

Ruby transferred from Howard to Hillman for a fresh start. She also happens to be a long time friend of his, given they’ve even grown up together. They lost touch for a while after graduating high school but quickly reconnected after crossing paths— to be specific they were passing one another on campus before recognizing each other in a quickness.

Ever since then, things had shifted within his relationship with Lena.

She became a jealous, raging woman. Often speaking ill of Ruby whenever she isn’t around for no apparent reason. Dorian understood to a certain extent but it was growing extremely uncomfortable. Ruby rarely glances in her direction, let alone speaks of her.

“Lena, listen to yourself. You’re being extremely irrational right now.” Dorian argues.

“You can’t even—” Lena began, only to be interrupted.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt whatever this is. But Dorian it’s your turn.” The woman of the hour makes her appearance, butt-length individual braids swinging softly alongside her confident stride. The entire group’s energy shifts, their attention shifting upon Ruby’s frame.

The strap of her Rasta striped backpack chilling on her right shoulder. A purple and white tank top reading ‘Nike’ in white bold letters hugging her torso yet exposing her small waist, matching oversized nylon track pants covering her legs. A fresh pair of Nike Air Jordan 7 OG Raptors adorning her feet.

Gold compliments her skin tone and clearly she’s aware, rocking a plethora of gold necklaces and a few rings. Two of the necklaces being a nameplate necklace which spells out her name in cursive as well as Egyptian queen, Nefertiti. Notes of brown sugar and vanilla bean engulfing her natural being. She’s the epitome of fly.

Her aura was bright yet she was nonchalant and the facial expression amongst her canvas remained unphased. In fact, she doesn’t acknowledge the rest of the group. Her attention solely focused on Dorian’s being, handing the male the car seat.

“Cool. How was she?” He quizzes, referring to the infant simulator resting in the assigned car seat. The infant simulator happened to be the fake baby the duo were given for the sake of their project.

To be specific, their project happens to be a social experiment. The duo were to pretend to be young parents whilst tackling real world issues and college.

“A pain in my behind. I was able to get her to sleep so I could get some studying in thankfully.” She smiles weakly, ignoring the subtle stares they were receiving. “I gotta head to track practice. Good luck.”

“Thanks and before you leave I’m gonna need you to watch her tonight. I have an exam tomorrow morning. I need some sleep.” His pools of brown practically pleading for the young woman to oblige.

Her hands meeting her hips, sighing irritably, “I have an exam too, Dorian. Don’t you think I can use some sleep?”

“But—”

“No buts.” Before he could even get another word in, Ruby saunters out of sight.

“Okay, wow…” Gina starts with a mischievous chuckle. “So, Lena? You’re like the resentful girlfriend but Ruby is the baby mama that you just can’t seem to get rid of. Mm, I would pay good money to see this in a soap opera.” Her chuckles transitions into intense laughter.

As a result, Lena hops out of her seat and began to march away from the group. Charmaine sends a harsh slap to Gina’s shoulder earning a light gasp— the young woman no longer laughing as the duo began to follow closely behind an angry Lena to comfort their friend.

The moment the trio were gone, the infant simulator bursts into loud wails. Dorian’s tired eyes falls onto his friend, Terrell, whom instantly stands to his feet. A nervous laugh escaping his throat.

“You know, man. I would help you but, um, I gotta study for that uh… exam I got tomorrow too. So, uh, yeah. Bye.” He lies before quickly leaving the scene as well.

Dorian’s head tosses backward in pure frustration, a sigh passing his lips. His gaze falling amongst the crying electronic infant the second he lifts his head once again.

———

Now you want my love

Well that’s alright

Well, it will be there for you, morning, noon, and night

TLC’s “Baby, Baby, Baby” softly commences through Ruby’s apartment due to her handy dandy CD player. It happens to be a one bedroom, simply furnished but nothing too extra. It was just right, perfect for her accommodation during this point of her life.

She stays off campus, not because she necessarily had to but she chose too. After the horrific experience of having roommates at her old campus, she decided to purchase a place of her own. She needed her own space. Ruby liked it better that way. Besides, she doesn’t live too far from the campus.

Silently, she flips to the next page of her thick textbook which is seated upon her lap. Her legs indian style comfortably, basking in the solitude and tranquility of her space.

Until, a couple of knocks meets her door.

Her gaze travels to the door for a split second before sitting the textbook onto the coffee table and standing to her feet. Glancing through the peephole, she looks to the side with a lighthearted chuckle yet wasting no absolute time to welcome the uninvited guest inside.

“Did you need something, Dorian?”

“Yeah. To study.” Without protesting, she takes the car seat out of his hold as he closes the umbrella. It was storming pretty badly outside. The rain poured at an intense rate and it hadn’t shown any signs of stopping anytime soon.

“You didn’t walk over here in the rain. Did you?” Ruby places the car seat onto a nearby chair, carefully analyzing the infant simulator’s appearance to ensure everything is intact.

Shutting and locking the door behind himself, “I took a cab.” He takes off his red, black and white letterman jacket before neatly hanging it onto the coat rack. She grabs his backpack, laying it on the couch. “I know you’re probably wondering why I’m here. I’ve been trying to study but she keeps crying and the only way the thing seems to stop is when I hold her.”

“It does that to me too. Hence why I gave her to you for the night. You’re not the only one in dire need of sleep and on top of that I have to study too. As you can see—” Her arms motioning to the mountains of paper and textbooks scattered across her coffee table.

Dorian observes the scene. A sense of regret and guilt creeping upon his being. “You know what? You’re right. I should go. Sorry about this.” He reaches for his belongings, preparing to leave before Ruby halts his actions. “Stop. Seriously, what’s happening to us?”

His eyebrows furrowing together, “What do you mean?”

The male began to act oblivious. Though, he knows exactly what she means. Before their project, their friendship was great and they would rarely possess any disagreements. But with the assignment, the duo seemed to be growing slightly distant but oddly closer in the same note due to the infant simulator.

Sure, they were best-friends. But before the “baby” they had their own lives and friends so they weren’t obligated to see one another every day. Now, they had to for the sake of their grade.

“This thing—” The young woman motions to the infant simulator in slight frustration before plopping onto the couch. “drives me nuts. I can’t really hang out whenever I want. You’re starting not to like me anymore. I’ve become annoying. Haven’t I?”

“Woah, what?” Dorian laughs, taking a seat next to his friend. “Look, I’ve been worked up over this project too. You’re not alone and you are not annoying. You’re just… a young mother, technically.” He tries to assure her earning a light exasperated sigh.

“Well, in that case, I don’t wanna have children anytime soon.”

The male finds himself laughing causing Ruby to join him, “I mean, I can’t study. Oh and I can’t take long thorough showers like I usually do. One time, I was in the middle of a presentation and the thing started crying. It was soo humiliating.”

“Tell me about it. My Biology professor literally kicked me out of class.” The two relate to one another, their heads shaking in unison. “I’m so glad we only have a couple of more days left of this project. It has been a long two weeks. Though, I can’t lie, I feel for those who are juggling college and parenthood. It is not easy.”

“Yeah,” She began, her gaze softening the second she turns in Dorian’s direction. “Um, I caught wind of you and your friends conversation earlier…” Instantaneously, his attention falls upon the woman. “I don’t understand the issue your girl has with me. I mean, we’re just friends.” The young woman says with an eye roll, crossing her arms.

Not once did Ruby ever come on to Dorian. Despite the fact that she doesn’t know Lena well, she respects her enough to not interfere in their relationship. But Ruby isn’t an ass kisser so it is what it is.

Dorian sighs heavily, “I tell her that a million times. Lena is just… I don’t know. She’s never been this way. I’m not sure if I should be flattered or upset.” His mind going into deep thought.

“All I’m gonna say is, she has nothing to worry about. I also enjoy our friendship. I think she really needs to dive deep inside and find that insecurity so maybe she can stop taking it out on me. I’ve done absolutely nothing to her nor to you, Dorian.”

The young woman stands to her feet, walking to the other side of her living room to turn off the CD player. “Ruby…” Dorian slowly steps to her, grabbing her hand to gently turn the woman in his direction. “I apologize on behalf of Lena’s behavior. Okay? But I can’t control nor can I convince her not to be threatened by you… I mean… look at you,”

Ruby’s head gradually lifts, their pools of brown connecting, “You’re beautiful. Guys flock to you all the time.” She breaks their eye contact, disconnecting their hands due to her growing quite flustered as she saunters in the opposite direction of the area.

Dorian only follows right behind the beauty. Tension forming between the two.

“Can I be honest?” He inquires, swallowing his pride.

“Yeah?” Her gaze away from his being, avoiding any absolute eye contact.

“I’m glad we became partners because I’ve grown to realize something…” Suddenly, Ruby turns to look at him. “What’s that?”

“How I can’t do this thing called life without you. There’s no other person I see myself doing this—” He motions towards their surroundings. “with.” The duo being partners for the project gave the two a chance to view one another in a different light. A light they never once walked to.

“I… see you as more than just a friend. In fact, I’ve loved you since I was nine years old.”

Ruby grew speechless, peering deeply into his eyes. Derealization creeps upon her frame— nearly on the verge of pinching herself to figure out if she’s dreaming or not. But she isn’t… Dorian is standing right in front of her, live in the flesh. Confessing his longtime romantic feelings for her.

“This may come as a shocker but… I had to tell you before it was too late.” He further explains, stepping closer to the beauty.

“Lena. What about Lena? Did she ever come in mind when you realized you had these feelings for me?” Their chests meeting softly, her gaze peering upward due to their height difference.

“What about her?” Her eyebrow raises at his response. “I care about her but she isn’t you.”

“Could this be? Or… could this not be?” The beauty’s fingertips tracing along the material of his long sleeved shirt.

His face slowly dipping downward toward hers, his lips leaning closer to hers, “It will be.”

Without wasting another agonizing second, their lips connected for the very first time. Their union was fervent, zealous— in search of what was next to occur during this moment. Their tongues began to tango within the other’s wetness. The act creating a track of its own.

Both of their racing hearts thumped intensely as Dorian takes the initiative of positioning his hands along the top of her backside. He wanted to remain respectful, not wanting to overstep his boundaries in any way shape or form.

As a result, Ruby sends him the signal that his thoughts were okay. It was as if she read his mind given their undeniable chemistry, leading his large hands to her covered backside that sat plump and proudly in her shorts.

Her arms hanging loosely around his neck, their heads conducting every which way yet never breaking their steamy kiss. Unfortunately, the infant simulator started to wail loudly catching the duo’s attention. Dorian sends the woman a grip on her backside, his top row of pearly whites softly digging into his bottom lip. Hazy low eyes staring downward at her seductively.

“I got it.”

Suddenly, he snaps out of the trance she unintentionally lured him under. His mind traveling to his girlfriend for a split second.

“N-No, I got it.” He volunteers, tending to the infant simulator’s needs.

Giggling softly to herself, Ruby observes as he rocks and feeds the mechanical infant. Her gaze travels along to her sock cladded feet before lifting her head once again, finger twiddling the tip of one of her lengthy braids.

The second he returns it to its rightful place as soon as it halted its wails, “I should go.” He began to pack his things, preparing to leave once again.

Yet again, Ruby stops him right in his tracks. This time what she had in mind isn’t so innocent.

“You can’t just confess your feelings for me then up and leave. Besides, it’s pouring down out there.” She was enticing, practically seducing him with her eyes. “You gonna go out in the rain? Hm?” They were a deep shade of brown, lust and desire swirling within her orbs.

Her head tilts to the side, their pools of brown burning into one another. “I don’t think you should leave me, Dorian.” The woman confidently steps closer to his tall frame, exuding a femme fatale. A woman clearly comfortable within her sexuality.

He surrenders, “I suppose, I shouldn’t.” The thought of Lena being shoved in the back burner of his conscience.

With his consent, the woman takes his hand and leads him to her bedroom. Anticipation and excitement pouring over his frame as he watches her hips. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, observing the beauty undress while admiring her being. His member hard as a rock.

Ruby kneels upon her knees, unbuckling the fly of his denim jeans. “You don’t have to do that.” He says, though he doesn’t mind. He’d never received fellatio before so it would be a first.

“Stop worrying. Would you?” She doesn’t bother to even glance at him as his tongue drag across his lips, gaze directed amongst her breasts. He lifts his hips so she could pull down his boxers, he’d never been so ecstatic about anything in his life. He had no idea Ruby had it in her.

Slowly stroking his long phallus, her lust-filled eyes glances upward in his direction. It wouldn’t be long before her lips would be wrapped around him, slurping him up as if her life depended on it. Clearly, it isn’t her first rodeo.

His jaw falls agape, “Oh shit.”

Her hand skillfully strokes him. The beauty’s head bobbing upward and downward with absolute ease. Her skills were heaven sent, becoming a pleasure to the male. She was too good at this.

His head falls backward, fucking her face as his fingers tangles into her braids. “Ruby…” He calls her name, low gaze averting downward onto the sexual deviant earning her attention. Batting her eyelashes, she seductively drags her tongue along one of the veins of his thick phallus, making sure to maintain their hazy eye contact. “Yes, baby?”

Before he could utter another word— he couldn’t any longer. He’d completely lost his train of thought. She snatched them away of him as well as his soul, going harder than before due to his reaction. Ruby was giving him Grammy award winning head, a plethora of profanity escaping his throat.

She was showcasing one of her many talents, revealing that she’s unlike any other woman he’s ever been with sexually. None of his previous lovers offered fellatio and he never pressured them either. But Ruby was more than willing to with no absolute shame.

In fact, she was committed. Dedicated to make him come just with the handy dandy work of her tongue. It had taken much practice, though she loved it. The jaw aches, the tears cascading along her cheeks, her mouth being full, the slob surrounding her juicy lips, the moans— even screams. The aggressive face fucking— she abso-fucking-lutely loved it.

“Fuck, fuck…” Dorian groans aloud, releasing into her mouth without warning. She made him come in under a minute, leaving breathless and panting heavily. He wasn’t expecting that level of head.

She swallows whatever he produces with no complaints, crawling onto his lap. “Think you could handle some more?” Her center throbbed for him, throbbing for a good pounding and he possesses the perfect size for her dripping tight crevice. The woman always desired for something bigger than she could handle.

He was still up at attention. “Hell yeah.”

Reaching for a condom into her nightstand, she makes sure to secure it on him. The second she does, she hops off of his lap and lays beside his being. His eyes closely following the places she goes, watching her legs widen. He analyzes her wetness as if it’s his most prized possession, his trophy.

One of her hands drags between her breasts along onto her toned stomach, eventually between her legs. Her index and middle finger toying with her throbbing center, moaning softly. Dorian replaces her touch, a groan passing his throat due to how soaked she is. He barely touched her and he had her like this.

Ruby practically melted like putty in his hands, surrendering to whatever he had to offer. His fingers soon being replaced with his thick phallus, both of them moaning at the sudden contact.

She trapped him into her cavern and he couldn’t find himself desiring to escape. He was already hooked, longing for more and more and more.

Dorian’s strokes were deep, passionate yet slow. He wanted to savor each second, capture each second. His face no longer buried into the crook of her neck, lifting his head to analyze her facial expressions. Her lips were slightly parted open, low pools of brown flowing into his. “I love you.” She whispers before whimpering shortly after her confession.

“I love you.” He tucks one of her braids behind her ear. Orbs sparkling in admiration. Ruby’s deep brown eyes caught him in a daze. Her cheekbones sat high. Her glossy lips plump and suckable, begging to be ravished. Brown skin smooth and soft, her signature vanilla bean scent entering his nostrils yet again. “You’re so beautiful.”

The woman caresses his back, hips rocking into his. Her legs enveloping his waist. She didn’t want him to stop especially when he stretched her out so perfectly. Dorian already has her right where she wanted him to have her.

“Dorian…” Her feminine tone summons his name. It wouldn’t be the last time.

Natural nail beds digging into the golden skin of his back, the pleasure growing increasingly overwhelming. She felt every vein, every thrust, everything. “Shit.” The second he finds her spot— he seems to not want to leave it alone, deepening the tip of his phallus in circles.

Love marks being left upon her skin, biting and nibbling. His wet tongue sensually dragging along her chest then her brown hardened areolas, showing them the attention they were in dire need of.

The view of her breasts bouncing along each thrust, her reaction garnered another side of Dorian. Without a lack of hesitation, he flips the woman onto her stomach before entering her walls yet again. It catches Ruby off guard but she doesn’t disagree. Her legs shaking immensely.

The headboard bangs against the wall harshly. The couple pants heavily as the aggressive sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls. “Ah, fuck,” Dorian’s tight grip amongst her hips forces her body back and forth. His pace more rougher than before. His lust-filled gaze observing her backside clap against him, top row of pearly whites digging into his bottom lip.

No uncertainty, Ruby pumps herself back. “Oh, yes, yes!” Her body burning for him, sweat beads dripping along their melanated frames. She desired for more, no matter how much he filled her up. “Don’t stop… fuck me, fuck me.” The sexual deviant became a certified fein. So far, Dorian wasn’t a disappointment.

Her eyes rolls to the back of her skull for the millionth time tonight. One of her hands reaching behind her back to grip his hip while the other gripped the sheets due to the fervent impact of his strokes. Drool dripping along her chin due to her jaw hanging agape in pure disbelief yet bliss. She hadn’t had her world rocked like this in awhile.

Her arch remained intact, ass up in the air and face down just as he loves it. The view was a true sight for a sore eyes.

The second she looks back at him with that pouty expression upon her face, the throbbing sensation of his phallus intensifies. He isn’t prepared to come just yet. The effect of Ruby was something serious and Dorian hadn’t prepared for it.

Suddenly, an abrupt feeling of Dorian’s member slipping out of Ruby’s cavern earns a whimper. “Put it back in,” She drags out, high-pitched weak voice holding a slight crack due to the amount of shouting she was doing a second ago.

Dorian doesn’t respond. Instead, he lowers himself between her legs. The male figures he would return the favor. “So good.” He groans against her wetness, ravishing her nectar as if it’s his last supper.

“Ouu—” His thumb pressing against her anus. In result, more of her juices dripping along his chin. “Ah, fuck… just like that.” She encourages her lover, fucking his face.

His tongue dragging across her center passionately, not so rough but it was sensual. Soon enough, two of his thick fingers would enter her warm walls again before thrusting them in and out at a gradual pace. The amazing work of his tongue and fingers would cause the beauty to grow weak in the knees.

Dorian was dedicated given his eyelids were shut, his head moving side to side— up and down to lick every angle of her dripping goodness. He was quite adamant on pleasing the woman. He’s his own man and it showed.

Without warning, she squirts onto his gorgeous canvas with a shout, “Fuck!” He would continue his actions resulting in the woman to feel the urge to squirt yet again.

Her aching paradise would be filled to the brim with his love once more, digging in and out of the beauty mercilessly. She released the urge, squirting along his soaked pelvic area while babbling incoherent words. A flushed yet fucked out expression amongst her naturally captivating canvas. “Mhm,” He encourages her, despite not understanding a word she’s uttering.

A firm grip upon her braids would jolt her head backward in his direction as he continued to fuck her into oblivion, her brain growing completely dumb. “Unh, unh, unh, unh!” She shouts into the heated atmosphere. He sends a rough slap to her backside.

“Ah, shit!” Dorian groans, feeling his orgasm approaching. Though, he was about to come— he continued to give her all he had. He was a panting, sweaty mess but he was still incredibly sexy. “Fuck, I love you.” He meant every single word he said.

“I love you more, baby…” She began, tone of voice frail and shaky. “I love this dick.” Her mouth was absolutely filthy but so was Dorian’s. She brought out that side of him.

“I know…” His gaze averting to where their bodies connected. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” With each stroke, her wetness made its presence known— creating an mixtape of its own. Their sex was sticky and sloppy just as the couple loved it.

Their sexual chemistry was better than expected. It took a moment but eventually it transitioned into something unforgettable, ardent.

Her walls tightens around him causing his eyes to roll to the back of his skull, head tossing backward as his tongue drags along his lips. “Shit. I’m gonna cum.” He informs the woman, his thrusts becoming sloppy. Her nectar sloshing against his hardened member, squirting once more.

Their bodies began to shake violently. Oxytocin and Dopamine streaming along their veins as their love comes crashing down upon them. Dorian continues to pound his lover, unable to get enough despite his orgasm sending a slight jolt to his movements. In result, the couple began to grow overstimulated— fucking one another through their orgasm.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Ruby’s voice high-pitched cries out with a light crack before calling out for the most high. They ride out their highs, Dorian grunting aloud as his seed fills up the latex.

Panting heavily, the male’s arms wraps along her waist. His sweaty chest pressing against her back, lips inching closer toward her ear. “You know there’s no going back, right?”

The second their high came down, the couple was brought back to reality. What they did was absolutely wrong, the ultimate stab in the back. Both Ruby and Dorian understood that but neither of them could deny the burning desire of going there with one another. Though it was wrong, it felt right.

They love one another and Lena couldn’t stop that.

Turning to look back at him, a loving grin upon her lips, a twinkle of admiration and adoration in her eye as her gaze sets upon his captivating canvas. “Of course.”

[carolmunson]

wish i had a river (part two)

here it is, the part two i said i wouldn't write. if you missed it, here is the first part - wish i had a river this is very much an eddie munson fanfiction, it's mostly from his perspective and follows his story through his eyes and actions. 'you' are mentioned and seen in this fic, but for the most part, it's all eddie all the time. cw: minors dni, adult themes, some smut references. angst. hurt/comfort. lots of mentions of poverty/hunger, sleep deprivation, all around eddie having a bad time. cigarettes/mild drinking but nothing inherently like -- bad? idk. unpopular ship mentioned. i did NOT proof read this.

The alley behind Macy's was a safe haven. Cold, a blue black, poorly paved, with nothing but the dumpters of other stores and the rats to keep him company. Eddie nursed a cigarette on his third smoke break of the night, two bad customers away from a total nervous breakdown. His anxiety built higher every day, every rush, every icy road report -- more people yelling, more people stressed out, more car accidents he'd have to clean up. Wayne's been in an out of the doctor's office more often and it's looking like he might have to retire early. The cigarette loses it's flame and he curses under his breath when he goes to light it again, the nicotine soothing his lips and tongue with a slow steady burn.

You never got to decorate cookies together on his impromptu 'sick day', you hadn't returned any of his calls. Not that he thought he was off the hook or anything, but he did basically write you a fifty two page love letter. If he had the time he'd come by your apartment to apologize in person but at this point exhaustion had started to over stay it's welcome. He could barely make it to the pharmacy on his nights off to get Wayne's medication. The guys at the auto shop could tell something was starting to go very left, 'cause why was the youngest guy there the one who couldn't keep up anymore?

And Eddie really couldn't keep up anymore.

At least his commission in the shoe section was doubling daily.

The cold bites his cheeks while he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt on the dirty, uneven pavement and crushing out the flame with his work shoes. He rubs his eyes, heavy and swollen with lack of sleep, with scrubbed fingernail hands and sighs. Just another hour and he can go home, just another hour and it's not a closing shift, he can go home at seven like normal people with regular jobs.

He drops his coat off in the cubby area upstairs, stopping in the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face. He inspects himelf, eyes half closing in disappointement while he does -- he looks like a shell of himself. He hadn't picked up his guitar in months, didn't turn the radio on anymore -- opting for silence since it was so rare for him to hear between Macy's, the shop, and Wayne's breathing machine at night.

He takes his hair down, shaking out the curls that had at least dried into waving perfection last night, and gives it a shake before putting it back up in a neat ponytail. His bangs sit on his forehead, a few strands framing his now gaunt face. He practices an awake smile in the mirror before he completely deflates -- one bad interaction, one rude look, one snap from a boss, and he'd lose it. The rawness sat in a lump in his throat, a grenade of tears ready to blow if the pin is even so much as nudged.

The door to the back rooms squeaks open on its hinges, revealing the never ending click of boots, heels, sneakers, and men's shoes on the sining tile of Macy's walkway floors. In the beginning, the scent of the perfume section across the way and the bright lights of jewelry used to be an assault on his senses -- but as Wayne says 'You can get used to anything.'

"You good, Ed?" he hears, and turns his head -- it's Angie. Angie is his favorite coworker because she makes the best and meanest jokes about people. If it wasn't for some nights closing with Angie he would've left this job a long time ago. He'd been keeled over in laughs with a duster in his hand so many times that it almost seemed wrong to abandon her there.

"Yeah," he furrows his brow at her, "Should I not be?"

"Some pretty boy's been looking for you," she says, nodding over to the boots section, "You got another business I don't know about?"

A grin stretches across her frosted red lipstick'd lips, crinkling her overlined and spider lashed eyes. She's what Eddie and the guys at Forest Hills would have called 'trailer park pretty' if she was thirty years younger.

"They would be so lucky, wouldn't they?" Ed smirks back, eyes following her nod and landing on a head of beautifully coiffed chestnut hair, "Harrington?"

Steve's eyes perk up like a golden retreiver, a winning smile spreading across his face with a flash of white teeth in it's wake, "Hey, Ed!"

Angie gasps when she realizes who it is, "Oh shit! Is this the guy that --"

"Shh, shut up Ange," Ed huffs, waving her off while Steve comes up to approach him.

"Hey dude, I was hoping you were here. I uh, got a pretty big collection to get tonight so I figured -- you know, I'd come say hi and ask for your help." It's frustrating how pleasant Steve is. How warm his demeanor radiates to others, his candor, the way that he stands. It's annoying that a denim button under a cozy green sweater looks good on him. It makes Eddie sick that he can pull off wire-rim glasses and still look his age, that he smells like spice but not in a cheap way. A twinge of fear shook in his chest when a seed of assumption planted itself in his head -- was this why you weren't answering his calls? Was Steve Harrington smothering you with Christmas spirit every night?

"Yeah, man, sure," Eddie responds like the world isn't sitting directly on his shoulders, which -- he observed -- were not nearly as broad as Steve's, "How can I help you?"

"I need like, four pairs of Moon Boots," he shrugs, "Guess they're in style again? My sister's and nieces want matching pairs so like -- two in a size 8 and then, if you have it, two in a size 4 kids?"

"What color? We have white, purple, black, some metallics," Eddie lists on his fingers, "Well, maybe not black -- those probably sold out already."

"You got silver? Pink, maybe?" Steve shrugs, "I'm just trying to get these wrapped by tomorrow."

Christmas Eve. Ed had almost forgotten.

"Let me see what we have and I'll bring it out," he offers. He wants to ask about you but it seems too obvious. You must have talked about the fight or about him in general, how else would Steve know he worked here? How else would he know to come looking for him.

Moments later, Ed comes out with four boxes, "I have two in silver and two in pink -- so it looks like your nieces will be matching and your sisters will be matching. Does that work?"

"Oh shit, that's perfect," Steve smiles the same winning smile. Eddie wonders for a moment what it feels like to smile genuinely, it's felt like years since he had. He guesses that when you're Steve Harrington, you must get to smile pretty often. Rich, girls love him, former captain of the basketball team, has a masters degree, painstakingly handsome -- no wonder you called him after your fight. Damn, he would too.

"Is that all?" Ed asks, reaching up to run a hand over the five o'clock shadow speckling his chin.

"No, actually, sorry. I need some like, work boots, if you sell those here -- is that okay?" Steve asks.

"Work boots like, how? Like construction?" he asks, "You're a teacher, Harrington."

"Yeah but my uh, my roommate -- he's not in construction but he's on a whole bunch of terrain for work -- desperately needs good shoes for that," he explains.

"What's he do?" Ed asks, guiding him over to the display of Timberlands and Doc Martens.

"He's a photojournalist -- he's all over the place," Steve answers, "He's worn his sneakers down to the sole and like, swears their okay --"

"Jonothan Byer's is your roommate?" Eddie asks, making the connection. He'd only known him from their photography class they shared in Eddie's second senior year, but he knew enough to know he went into journalism shortly after college.

"Yeah," Steve nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Hm," Eddie looks over the shoes and looks up at him, "If I can be honest -- he's gotta be quick on his feet, right? These are gonna be too heavy for him to be walking around in. You might just want to get him some higher quality running sneakers. There's a Foot Locker downstairs if you wanna check that out? A lot of our sneakers are sold out until next week."

"Hmm, shit," Steve clicks his tongue, "Well um -- could I maybe try a pair?"

"Of Docs?" Eddie asks with a laugh.

"Yeah, of Docs -- I can be hip and cool, too, Munson," Steve's faux defense is charming. Eddie wonders what else you find charming about him.

Part of it feels degrading, kneeling down in front of Steve, lacing and relacing each new and different pair of boots he tries on -- but at this point he's buying seven pairs of shoes and the commission alone will cover at least a month of groceries so he's not complaining.

"So you don't hate me, huh?" Eddie asks, slipping a lighter weight Timberland over one of Steve's argyle socks.

"Why would I hate you?" Steve cocks his head, amber eyes catching in the light.

"Oh, did she not talk about it?" Eddie flushes. Why would you talk about him? Your loser mechanic (maybe ex) boyfriend who works at the mall, and at the auto shop, and sometimes sells drugs.

"Your fight from last week?" Steve raises his brows, "Yeah, she talked to me about it. But I woudn't hate you for that."

Ed tightens the laces up his foot to his ankle with care, "Why not?"

"I mean, you're doing a lot right now," Steve shrugs, "I think it can be hard when you're teaching little ones, especially this time of year, to not get caught up in the magic -- you sort of popped her bubble. But y'know, it was sort of a reminder to her that not everyone has it so good."

"She didn't deserve me yelling at her like that, though," Eddie shakes his head, he can feel the threat of the grenade pin tugging on his heart strings. One false move. One shake. One nudge, and he'll blow.

"You're doing the best you can," Steve offers kindly. Eddie swallows hard, offering him a tight smile.

"Thanks. I'm trying, I'm--" he shakes out the tingle of a cry before tying up the laces, "I'm trying really hard."

By the time Steve checks out it's about 7:15 and Eddie wants nothing more than to go to bed. His back hurts, he's gotta make sure Wayne took his medication, he's gotta eat sleep for dinner for the third night in a row.

"Thanks so much," Steve beams, "This is great, thanks for your help."

"Yeah, no problem dude," Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face again, "Have a good holiday."

"You done for the night?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, just gotta y'know -- grab my shit and go," he shrugs.

"You wanna grab some dinner with me in the food court or something?" Steve asks, balancing the many shopping bags he'd collected this evening in his hands.

"I don't know, dude. I don't wanna keep you or anything," Eddie says. His stomach clenches at the word dinner, his body reacting like a dog who just heard the sentence 'you wanna go outside?'

"You're not keeping me," Steve assures, "C'mon, it's on me."

Before he knows it, Eddie's been corralled into a mall food court, sitting slumped over on the sticky table. He tunes out the shreiks of children, the tinny Christmas music playing in the background of the cocophany of noise that is the mall on December 23rd. His forehead sticks to the leather jacket over his forearm, only lifting it up when he hears the slap of a plastic tray being put down in front of him. He surveys the Burger King in front of him and huffs a laugh, it'd been a long time since he'd ventured into the food court. He almost forgot what fast food looked like after the past few months of thin ham sandwhiches or cold cans Spaghettio's.

"So why didn't you try to swoop in?" Ed asked, toying with a french fry before biting off the end, "When you went to her house the other night?"

He savors the oil and salt on his tongue, warm and crispy on the fry disolving in his mouth while he waits for a response.

"Swoop in?" Steve asks, shaking his head, "No, I wouldn't. We just -- we work together. She's my work friend."

"So you never thought about what the kids say?" Eddie challenges, still trying to keep it light hearted, "How the first grade teachers should get married?"

"Her classroom is across from mine and we make lesson plans together," he assures, "What the kids say is what the kids say. They're six, what do they know?"

"Whatever you say, Harrington," Eddie shrugs.

"Munson, seriously -- she's my friend. She's not my type," he offers. The way he says it stings Eddie, what's not his type about you? You're perfect. You're the best person he knows.

"The card thing though? That was cute. I'm gonna put that in my arsenal if I ever fuck up," Steve laughs. Eddie chest rattles when he realizes that Steve was still there for that. He never even knew your reaction.

Eddie clears his throat, "Did um -- did she like it?"

Steve nods with a lazy smile, "Yeah, she liked it."

"Did she say anything?" he asks hopefully.

"She cried," Steve answered, Eddie leans his head on his hands, "I know that might not be what you wanted to hear."

"I didn't wanna make her cry more," he explains, "I wanted to make her happy."

"They were happy tears," Steve encourages with a nod, "She knows you love her. She loves you, too."

"Then why isn't she answering my calls?" he asks, another fry passing his lips.

"I think she's hurt, a little embarrassed. You know how girls are, they never come right out and say it," he shrugs, taking a bite of his cheeseburger. Ketchup drips out onto the paper mat on the plastic tray with a wet plop, Eddie sighs.

"Did you end up getting anything for her for Christmas?"

"No I -- I can't afford it this year," Eddie rubs his eyes again, more swollen and aching than before. Heat beams through his cheeks in embarrassment, tinging pink and then red.

"Well I had an idea," he offers, "If you're up for it."

"Yeah, go for it Harrington. Shoot," he says, the enthusiasm was greatly lacking.

"Well her uh, her class room needs a lot of repairs and the custodial team isn't really equipped for that. The school'll either bare bones it for her or make her pay for it out of pocket if she asks," he starts, "And she told me you're really handy, y'know, working at the garage and all. So maybe you could take care of her class room this week while we're out for break. I can let you in and everything."

He mulls it over in his head, "That's a really good idea, actually. I could um, I could ask the guys at the shop if I could borrow some tools."

"And there's a bunch of wood palettes in the backrooms at Medvald's. Jon said he's happy to get them out of there for you," Steve says with a smile.

"Oh, so you already talked about this?" Eddie smirks.

"Well, yeah, kind of," he blushes, "I was asking around just to see if it was a plausible kind of thing."

"Definitely a plausible thing," he nods, taking a bite of his own cheese burger. He holds back the moan in his chest from eating something warm and mildly filling after such a long time, "Do you think she'd like it?"

"Oh, Munson," Steve shoots him the 'okay' sign, "She'd lose her mind. All she does is complain about how nothing ever works and everything's falling apart. Doesn't even have new chalk."

"Chalk I can definitely handle," he laughs, "I think I can afford chalk."

He feels a moment of calm wash over him when the van rumbles to life in the parking garage. Finally heading home and going to sleep with a full belly, finally with a plan to make you happy, finally feeling like after the new year things can go back to normal. He flicks on the radio and doesn't even change the station when Mariah Carey's 'All I Want For Christmas' crackles through the speakers. He heard it 700 times today, happy to hear it for the 701st.

It was your new favorite song, after all.

Eddie woke up feeling slightly refreshed on Christmas Eve, the dull ache in his back mildly relieved. He fished into his pajama pants for his lighter, flicking it a few times before getting the fuse lit for his morning cigarette. He stood at the open door, bathrobe tied tight around him, and listened to the hum of Wayne's machine from the other end of trailer. The mug of black coffee in his hands had the bitterness cut by the soft sweetness of cinnamon -- that's what you always did this time of year.

'I like making it a little festive for you, honey,' you'd giggle, 'Don't be such a Grinch.'

He wished he appreciated it more, all the little things you did to try to make him happy. The faces in fruit on his pancakes some mornings, making his old favorites for dinner at your place, 'build your own sundae' nights. Scratching his head, scalp massages, hand massages. You'd call them man-icures so he didn't feel weird about you doing his nails and softening his callouses. He didn't care that it was just a manicure with a stupid name, all he cared about was your cute face when you concentrated on his cuticles. He missed your laugh, the way you tap your pen out to your favorite songs when you're grading papers or writing lesson plans, your elaborate schemes to make learning subtraction more fun. The way you're kind to everyone, all the time, constantly. When he first started taking you out he'd get embarrassed by how forward you were with people, how you'd make small talk with cashiers, or grab someone's hand to tell them their nails looked beautiful.

Maybe in a lot of ways, he wished he was more like you to start.

He took a shower and slipped on his coveralls, opting to be one of two guys in the shop today. Him and George. It was George's garage, and for the past six years, Eddie had always volunteered to be the emergency mechanic on deck on Christmas Eve. He got paid time and a half and never had to wait for the check, he'd always get paid at the end of the day.

He laces his boots before trudging down the hall to wake Wayne, taking off his machine and flipping the switch.

"I'm headed out," he whispers, "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Wayne groans when he sits up on the rickety mattress, "I have a new perscription, not sure if the pharmacy'll be open but would you be able to pick it up on the way back. They called last night but I couldn't make it to the phone, it's ready I think."

"Yeah, I'll grab it on my lunch break Wayne," he softens the more he looks at him, "Have some coffee already to go for you on the table, there's a couple eggs left for you too."

"Thank ya, son," his voice is grizzly, but it still feels like home.

Eddie shivers his way into the shop, George in the office organizing some files. The day was always slow, but there were some cars still in need of fixing so he got right to work.

"Hey George," he calls, knocking on the door.

"Hey kid," he calls back, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, round six," he laughs back. He goes back to the break room and drops off his coat and his back pack. Normally he'd have you to look forward to later with a plate of cookies from your family's Christmas Eve party and some left overs expertly packed. You'd drive an hour and a half to bring it down to him and then an hour and a half back to spend Christmas with your family. But not before he gave you a present, or multiple presents, in the break room when George went out to get a six pack.

"Ed," he calls again, "C'mere when you're done dropping your shit."

Eddie heads over to the office, leaning on the door frame, "'Sup bossman?"

"Someone left a message for ya on the answering machine, think it's the pharmacy," he said, "Ya might wanna give 'em a call, s'probably for your uncle."

"Oh, yeah, I think his prescription's ready," he nodded, "Can I use your phone?"

"Yeah, by all means," he said, pushing it toward him, "Want me to give you a minute?"

Ed shakes his head no, "It's fine, just a quick call." He's got the number memorized by heart at this point, clicking the numbers on the grease stained white plastic buttons while barely looking at the machine.

"Hawkins Pharmacy, this is Debbie," Eddie smiles because he knows Debbie. He likes Debbie a lot.

"Hi Deb, it's Eddie, Eddie Munson," he says, "Calling for my uncle, looks like you called my work. I was gonna come by and pick up his meds on my break, will you guys be open?"

"Oh um, about his prescription Ed..." she starts, and he can hear the hesitation in her voice. The clip in the grenade buried in his chest jiggles slightly, he takes in a breath through his nose.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice his short and curt.

"Well, he changed his insurance recently, as you know and -- well there's a lapse in his coverage right now. His new plan doesn't activate until the first," she expains.

"Okay, and what does that mean?" he says, his palms sweat onto the cool plastic of the phone, his ear sticks to the receiver.

"Basically," she says, and then sighs, "His current insurance can't cover it and neither can is upcoming insurance, so the prescription has to be paid out of pocket."

"Um -- uh, fuck -- okay," he says, a chill courses through him, tightening his veins. The pin jiggles again, "H-how much?"

"For the month?" she asks, "For this prescription it's, hold on, let me check...it's looking like it'll come out to around..." she takes a breath of defeat.

"Around three hundred dollars, Ed," she says softly.

"Three hundred..." he repeats back quietly, "Is there like, is there a cheaper version cause he like..."

His voice cracks, the pin rattles dangerously while his eyes start to sting with oncoming tears, "He really needs these pills, Debbie."

"This is the cheapest option," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry."

"I'll um, I'll figure it out," he shakes his head, "I'll come by and I'll figure it out. Thanks uh, thanks for letting me know Deb."

He doesn't wait to hear her response before he hangs up the phone, quickly leaving the office to go back to the break room. He sniffles in big shuddering breaths, sweat dripping down his back despite the lack of heat in the garage.

"Kid," George says softly, following behind him, "Hey, Munson. What's goin' on?"

He feels George's big hand on his shoulder, the soft squeeze on the muscle under his skin.

"I can't afford my uncle's medication," he says, the pin jiggles, "I mean I can, but like, if I get his medication I'll be late in paying the gas bill, but if they turn the gas off there goes our heat. Or I can delay the electric bill but if they turn the lights out he can't use his machine at night. So maybe I could like, go out tonight after this and shovel some driveways in the rich neighborhoods or -- I could -- I could --"

The pin falls.

He breaks.

He breaks hard.

Eddie's cries turn to wails, his body shaking with hunger and exhaustion and the unbearable heaviness of having to be himself. The tears pour in droves down his face while he tries to catch up with them, trying to find the words to explain to George that he's okay, he'll figure it out.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay, it's okay," George soothes, his aged face crumpling while he watches Eddie break down in front of him. He pulls him in tight, a hand plopping ontop on his mess of curls.

"Why don't you tell me what's been goin' on? You haven't been yourself for months," he says softly, "Talk to me."

George smells like Old Spice and Newports, it's a scent that's always made him feel safe. Like having a second dad -- well, a third dad, if you count his real dad. He never counts his real dad, though.

Eddie sits down at the table while George takes a couple of beers out of the fridge and places them down in front of them. He cracks them open and settles down, two sets of brown eyes meeting each other.

He begins.

"Well if Wayne was sick why didn't you tell me?" George exclaims, "I've known Wayne longer than you've lived in Hawkins, boy. I would've helped you figure somethin' out. Taking shifts at Macy's? At Christmas time? No wonder you're so exhausted."

"I mean, I'm young. I can do it," Eddie shrugs.

"Those bags under your eyes say you can't," he says matter of factly, "And y'know you shouldn't have to. You're -- damn you're a kid."

"I'm like, inching towards thirty George," he laughs.

"And what about your little girlfriend? She not helping?"

"That's..." he sighs, "That's a whole other mess."

Eddie rehashes the story he told Wayne last week and then Steve's visit from yesterday, "So today I was gonna ask if I could borrow some tools and go in tomorrow or something to fix everything up. But now I gotta figure out how I'm gonna make an extra three hundred bucks for these meds."

"How about this," George starts, "You've been workin' for me a long time. You come early and you stay late. You cover for everyone. You know -- damn -- you know more about cars than I do and I've been runnin' this place for thirty years. How about you take this week off to work on your girl's classroom and I'll see you after the New Year."

"I can't. I need to work, George, I need the mo--"

"How about," he interjects, loud and stern, "You take the week off to work on your girl's classroom and get some rest, and I will pay you for the week. It's not like you're just sittin' on your ass."

"I can do that, that's not f--"

"If you say no again, I'm just gonna fire you. Is that what you want?" George challenges.

"No sir," Eddie quickly shakes his head and shuts his mouth.

"And," the older man continues, "I will cover the cost of Wayne's pills. I'll go pick them up at lunch for 'im and drop 'em off. 'Bout time I caught up with that geezer anyway."

The tears build back up in Eddie's eyes, his mouth lets out a sputtered version of a 'Thank you'.

"You gotta stop pretending like you have to do everything yourself," George's voice holds a fatherly fondness when he gets up and tosses their empty beers in the trash.

"C'mere, kid," he chuckles while Eddie tearily gets up out of the chair and back into the dad like embrace of his boss.

"You got ten minutes, but then we got some cars to fix."

Eddie didn't tell Wayne about the insurance lapse or the pills, even though he was surprised to see George at the trailer park that afternoon. Eddie went home with his tool belt from work, his time and a half, and a little extra that his boss insisted he take with him. Wished him luck on his repairs and that he'd see him on the 2nd.

He was warned that if he didn't rest, Wayne would tell him, and it would mean hell for him at the shop.

Eddie'd already been through hell, so he didn't really want to have to do it again.

Christmas morning came and Eddie woke Wayne up to a cup of coffee and some breakfast.

"Thanks, son," he said smoothly, pushing in his chair at the table in the kitchenette, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he wished back, tapping some cinnamon into each of their cups of coffee.

"What's that for?" he asks before a harrowing cough bubbles out of his chest. He takes a sip of coffee to ease the ache of the rattle in his throat.

"It's just festive, Wayne," he teases, "Don't be a Scrooge."

"Doing anything today?" Wayne asks, eyes casting up to look at the old pictures of a younger Eddie sat on Santa's lap. No longer a holiday where they stayed home and snuggled, where he played with his toys, where there was magic.

"Gonna go fix up my girl's classroom as a gift," he says, picking at his nails, "Thought it'd be a nice gesture."

"She hasn't called ya back, hm?"

Eddie shakes his head, already dressed in the Black Sabbath shirt you got him that he hadn't gotten a chance to properly thank you for. The chain you got repaired hung aroung his neck delicately, the pick hitting his chest in a gentle reminder that you're still here with him. You had to be. He'd know if you just decided to be done with him.

By the time the late afternoon rolled around he hopped in his van after Wayne fell asleep in the recliner. The perk of the holidays was that he could drive around in the rich neighborhoods and no one was out to give him and his car dirty looks. No one was around to be confused that Steve Harrington was hopping into his passengers seat to head to Melvald's. No one was around to be confused as to while they were loading wood from broken down pallets into the ample trunk space.

"Good holiday?" Eddie asks.

"Same holiday it always is," he shrugs, "My parents weren't around so I stayed home. Jonothan went to California with Joyce to go visit Will so he wouldn't have to pay to fly home."

"That's lonely," Eddie mutters, "Sorry dude."

"Don't be sorry, I'm used to it," he looks out the window. Steve looks well dressed for repairs -- a pair of worn in jeans, white on white Air Forces, an Izod half zip sweat shirt -- he might as well look like a father of three, "Have you heard from her at all?"

"No -- I left her a message on her answering machine, but I think she's already up with her family. I don't know what she told them so -- I don't want to bother her parents if they're upset with me," he explains.

"They'd never be upset with you," Steve shakes his head, "They're good people."

"I'm sure they wish on a star every night that she was with you, Harrington," he jokes.

"You'd think, right?" Steve laughs, "No, she told me how much they like you. They think you're so good to her -- you are so good to her."

Steve speaks about you with a fondness that makes Eddie wonder. He softens, looking over at him while he turns down the road to the elementary school, "Do um...do you wish it was you?"

"I already told you, man. I love her to death, but she's not my type," he laughs again, but there's a pain there.

"You keep saying that but like -- are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me it's not weird," he assures.

"She hasn't told you?" Steve asks, brows furrowing.

"Told me what? Did you guys used to fuck, or something?" Eddie asks, his heart hammering, "Did you fuck the other ni--"

"No, no, Ed I'm --" he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm gay," he says quietly, "Like, Jonathan isn't my roommate he's -- he's my partner. I'm gay."

There's a silence there for a moment and Eddie shifts in his seat a red light. Oh, I'm such a fucking idiot. Of course that's why they aren't together. I thought maybe he had a weird dick or something.

"That's y'know," Ed shrugs, "That's cool with me, man. Like, silence equals death and all that."

"Oh, shut up man," Steve laughs and shakes his head, putting his hand up to stop him from talking, "Don't like, do that all shit. I'm just surprised she hadn't said anything."

"If you told her not to, she wont," Eddie's voice drops to something sweet, "She's a good girl like that. Great secret keeper. Great -- Oh, shit..."

When the boys pull into the lot, Eddie's surprised to see a couple more trucks sitting by with their lights on, doors opening at the sight of them. A gruff voice calls out from the dark, a light snow obscuring him and the name on his coverall.

"How long were you gonna keep us waiting here, kid? It's a holiday."

George's gruff voice cuts the silence, a couple of the guys from the shop chuckle in the background. Eddie smiles, a genuine, warm smile -- the kind he envied from a couple nights ago that he saw from Steve. These were people who cared about him, who wanted to help. This was, he guessed, was what Christmas was really about. This was what you were trying to tell him the whole time. His heart breaks all over again, and he swears he can feel the pulse of your heart beat in the guitar pick hanging at his chest.

By the 27th, most of the repairs had been done. The help from the guys was beyond what he could've imagined. They were able to replace part of the roof that had water damage, fix the windows, repair a cracked pane, build a new bookcase, fix the wobble in all of the desks, and yours. Now, he was just adding a new coat of paint after spending the morning chipping off all the shards of it that were falling off. In his backpack was an overflow of new chalk, pens and pencils, markers, crayons, construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glue. The guys went through their kids bookcases at home and donated a slew of new books for the room -- some duplicates, too.

He felt good. He'd gotten two nights of adequate sleep, heeding George's warning that he has to rest. He was able to buy a good crop of groceries and most of the guys from work came by to drop off so many Christmas cookies that Wayne was nervous he'd start losing his teeth too. Now, all he had to wait for was you. For you to come in on Friday and see his surprise when you dropped in for your professional development day with Steve. He wasn't sure if he wanted to leave flowers or gingerbread men with the card but he figured he'd cross that bridge when he --

"Eddie?"

He jumped, nearly falling off the ladder he was on to reattach over head light that had rusted on the ceiling, "Jesus Christ!"

He clutched his chest, letting his heart rate settle down when at the bottom of the ladder, there you stood. His face blushed pink, pulse ping ponging through his wrists at the sight of you.

"Hi, sweetheart," he smiles, "This um...this was supposed to be a surprise."

"Who told you?" you asked, looking around, "About all my stuff?"

Eddie climbed down the ladder carefully, "Steve came to the store, told me that you needed some help. I figured y'know, if I couldn't get you a present I could just -- I could make you one."

"It's not done yet though, I still have to paint and put all your art supplies away," he explains, meeting you in the center of the room. He looks at you and then at the tears in your eyes, the heat rising in your cheeks. You don't say anything, his heart races in embarrassment. Maybe it wasn't enough, maybe you didn't like it. Maybe you wanted to do it yourself.

"And um, the guys from the shop, they uh, they brought books," he says, walking over to the new bookcase, "And I uh, I built this, like, with my hands."

He painted it to match the rest of the decor, a fun bright color that would hopefully draw the kids in to read. You'd mentioned that the got bored with the same ten books and weren't sharing well -- half of the books were falling apart since there wasn't anywhere to put them.

"And uh, I got you some new chalk -- white obviously, but I got you some multi-colored sets cause I know you like to do little sketches on the board during holidays and like, with spring comin' up maybe you could do little flowers or something?" he doesn't realize it, but he's gasping through his rambled sentences. Watching you walk toward him slowly.

"It's okay if you don't like it," he assures, "You can tell me and I can fix it I just wanted to--"

Your kiss feels like a spoonful of summer warmed honey on his cold lips. It trails down his throat and into his chest, down through his fingertips and his toes. He feels your soft hands cup his face, resting against his cold prickly cheeks. He's afraid to touch your face because you haven't given him a manicure yet this week. He doesn't want to scratch you with his rough hands, so he places them around you instead, frowning when you finally break away with a soft click.

"I just wanted to do something nice," he says against your lips.

"This is the best gift ever," you whisper quietly, a little sniffle stifling your cry, "It's very nice."

"Merry Christmas, baby," he smiles, leaning in for another kiss.

"Merry Christmas," you wish between kisses.

He wakes up wrapped up in you, in your sheets, in your scent, peering at you while you sleep soundly next to him. You both had barely made it through the door of your apartment before you both had shed your clothes -- landing on the bed with a mutual 'oof!'

It had been so long since he'd been present. Savoring every soft moan out of your mouth, every shake of your thighs, everything whine, every clench, the way you'd rake your nails down his back, the way you'd pulse when he held your hand. You both laid there together after round one, eating cookies in bed (which you'd allowed just this once), while he told you everything. About how hard it had been taking two jobs, how he'd completely shut down, about Wayne's insurance lapse, about the guys at work, about Steve coming to Macy's, about how much he loved the gifts you got. About how he cried the night he yelled at you but was too afraid to face you after because he felt so awful. He listened when you told him that you just needed some time, but that you felt awful that you weren't there when he needed you.

"Need you all the time," he mumbled between heated kisses, "Never lettin' you outta my sight."

His eyes rolled and his toes curled when you took him in your mouth, letting you take the lead. He gasped and writhed, whining for more when your tongue swirled and sucked, showing him how much you missed him. How you'll always take care of him -- and he made sure to show you how he'll take care of you back.

Round three was long and drawn out, slow and sensual, close and quiet -- your boom box playing low static by the end.

Your eyes opened, stretching out when you see him sitting up in bed.

"You heading out?" you yawn.

"No, baby," he smiles down at you before laying back down, losing himself under the covers with you again, "I have the week off, so I'm intending to spend every moment I'm not with Wayne, in this bed, with you."

[t1bb1zoey]

Okay, I have screamed, squealed, hyperventilated, and smiled like a dork over this all damn day (I am by no means exaggerating).

Let's analyze this tasty ass chapter Old Xian, the fuckin legend he is, gave us on this holy day 🙌 😍

FIRST OF ALL

Bruh, they were MAKING OUT. You can even see in the other panels, Mo's lips are red and kind of puffy, so it makes you wonder how long they were going for before we popped back in again (I'm seriously going to try not to squeal all the way through writing this). The last chapter people were confused on whether it was a kiss on the lips or not. I still hold firm that it was.

NOW, LET'S LOOK AT THAT DANG KISS:

I think something very important happened here, aside from the actual physical kiss. Mo was able to, in the best way he could, articulate that he has feelings for He Tian, and He Tian also articulated in his way that he does not want to dominate or control Mo, like maybe he had in the past.

In the last chapter, He Tian knelt a little so he was not looming over Mo. I think this is important and was the first step in what He Tian was trying to do here in this interaction. Kneeling to someone's eye level means you are putting yourself on equal levels. You are taking this person seriously and you are doing your best not to be threatening or overbearing in any way.

After the first kiss that went wrong, He Tian has been controlling himself like crazy. He's still devilish at times, but flicking Mo's butt or kissing him on the cheek is not as aggressive as other things he did in the past (groping, shoving his tongue down Mo's throat, dragging an unwilling Mo places). He's backed off, and he backed off even more after learning that Mo's anxiety stems from She Li attacking, controlling, and dominating him. He Tian also learned that Mo's financial situation is no small thing and he has gained perspective into Mo's life and needs. In other words, He Tian has matured and has worked on himself so he could be someone Mo would love.

So, of course Mo loves him back now and kisses him. We pick up with both of them processing that kiss here:

So, remember, Mo knew that he was dragging He Tian to his room because he was overwhelmed with feelings and wanted to kiss him finally, but He Tian had NO IDEA what was happening until he was standing in front of Mo, so he's processing this as much as Mo is. And the way they process is so different.

I love that Mo begins trying to explain himself, but also cannot bring himself to say that he loves He Tian directly (yes LOVE, not like). He says that his mom also doesn't dislike him, the most roundabout way he could say "I like you" (but we all know he LOVES him, right?). And he continues to talk really fast and look away from He Tian, because I think for whatever reason, he's scared to see how He Tian is reacting (because Mo is insecure) and also simply because he's embarassed of course.

And how is He Tian reacting? In that panel where Mo is just word-vomiting at him, he's studying Mo. His face is calm, like he's trying to get a read on what Mo's motivations for kissing him are. He's also reluctant to let Mo go. He even continues to hold his hand when Mo goes to take the ear piercing kit from the drawer.

I think He Tian is probably feeling a combination of "Does he think this is what he has to do to repay me?" and also a bit of "please let this be real". So he makes Mo look at him, because the ear piercing kit probably sent some worry through him. He knows Mo has been preyed upon by She Li before, so He Tian is making sure Mo knows he's not the same as She Li. Remember, this was He Tian a couple hours, terrified Mo was going to reject him for being the same as She Li, and a few minutes ago, replaying what he did and feeling like he's bought into his father's violent world:

He's still carrying that with him here, the terror that Mo saw what he did and the inner-conflict about being a part of She Li and his father's dark world. In this moment, he doesn't want Mo to think he's another violent person who Mo needs to serve or placate. He explicitly says to Mo: "You're the one who saved me."

AND WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

It could be literal, when Mo came up behind She Li and whacked him in the head to get him off He Tian.

OR, it very likely means Mo made He Tian change for the better. He's not the same guy who forced a kiss on Mo, or who tried to control him, or who threw money at him to get Mo to do what he wanted. He's changed into someone who wants to work hard, who wants to protect goodness, who wants to be gentle and kind like Mo is. Mo did save him. He can be someone different from his father, his brother, and She Li if Mo is there to remind him how to be.

So he reminds Mo of this because he wants Mo to know that he owes He Tian nothing. He doesn't have to pierce his ear for him to show that He Tian has any sort of ownership or dominance or anything. I think He Tian missed the fact that Mo is having a rough time, even now, being direct.

For Mo, he's trying to remind He Tian of this

He's trying to say, indirectly, you can help me do this because, yes, I do like you back. But He Tian's caught up in making sure Mo's not feeling any obligation to him just because he took care of She Li. AND ISN'T THAT BOTH SO CUTE AND HILARIOUS?! 🤣

Mo's out here doing his best to let He Tian know he's ready to admit his feelings now, and He Tian's so worried for Mo that he needs to know FOR SURE this is something Mo actually wants. He has to see his face and he has to have some form of explicit confirmation before he can let himself accept what's happening. He could have just gone in for another kiss on his own, but he wouldn't do it. For He Tian, he does not want to "disgust" Mo ever again. It's full consent or nothing. So, after making it clear that Mo owes him nothing, he asks him outright, "tell me what you want".

And poor Mo's still having a hard time. He can't say the words quite yet, and that's okay. For Mo, I think actually asking for something he truly wants is quite difficult, because nothing goes well for him. Wanting anything is a dangerous game for him, so even just saying it out loud is like a jinx for him, like the universe will hear and He Tian will be taken away (and we do know he will be and I don't know how Mo's going to handle that). So he just points. It's the best he can do. He Tian's just gonna have to accept that.

And the SECOND he gets the confirmation he needed, He Tian kisses Mo again. IMAGINE WHAT THAT WOULD FEEL LIKE?! The person you've been blood-sweat-and-tears-ing for tells you they want you back??! He Tian's ear blushes in that panel where Mo points to him, because NOW it hits him that yes, this is real. The boy of his dreams actually wants him back!

And it's the gentlest kiss ever. It's so sweet and heartfelt. I'm really proud of He Tian's and Mo's character development. I would say He Tian has evolved more than Mo, just because we see that he's learned his lesson here fully and Mo is still fighting to voice his wants, but man both characters have come so far.

And He Tian says he'll give Mo anything. Anything. Mo's out here trying to give He Tian things (literal soup, a place to stay, piercing his ear), and He Tian turns around and says NO, YOU OWE ME NOTHING AND I WILL GIVE YOU ANYTHING. He Tian was going to straight up murder She Li for Mo. He was going to KILL someone.

I saw someone on here say that in the English language, we have no equivalent to what He Tian said here. He basically told Mo anything he was, is, and ever will be, anything he can get his hands on for Mo, anything he can do for Mo, for all time, forever and ever, is Mo's. He exists for Mo now.

LIKE???

I'M SORRY, WHAT???

Guys, they are married. All these rings and earrings and shit. Like, this is the vow that accompanies them.

I just ... I can't?

Wonderful and BRAVE chapter from Old Xian. I will NEVER get over it.