#things i haven't touched on that are going to be in this thread :

[cuddlytogas]

yesterday some friends and i went to the special ancient egyptian pharoahs exhibit at the ngv, and i got so utterly entranced by a linen funeral shroud, i think i saw god and/or went completely insane for about fifteen minutes

the fibres were so fine. and not just fine, they were uniform. it was from the roman period, so only (only!) 2,000 years old, but the fibres were still so fine and uniform

i'm not good at identifying weft and warp on a piece of fabric - i think i got it wrong while i was looking at it - and obviously it's very hard to know what's inherent to the fabric and what's the product of degradation over time or mishandling, but there was this long, thin tear right down the middle, and i thought it was maybe a seam that had come apart, but the painting alignment didn't quite fit that, and there were a few threads crossing through it that i could see, so i wonder if maybe one or two weft threads had degraded or torn or been pulled loose. but the tear was so straight and exact, and held together at one end by the other fibres, it was so incredible to see

and there were a couple of places where i thought there were slightly chunkier threads - it happens all the time in modern linens - but when i looked closer, i could see that actually it was two threads in the same part of the weave (warp threads, i think?)

and again, okay, could be a product of the degradation, or damage - but also... it could so easily have been a slight fault in the manufacturing, and i don't know the first thing about ancient egyptian weaving techniques, or what kind of loom they did or didn't use, or any of that - but still, it was so easy to imagine these two warp threads being set slightly too close together on a loom, and being caught together by the weft, and leaving this slightest bulge, this perfect imperfection in the cloth

it was beautifully, intricately, colourfully painted, too, yes - but underneath that, i can only imagine that lovely dun, beige colour was unbleached and undyed; and yet again, yes, of course it would've darkened with age and use - it was a funeral shroud, there was a corpse under it once - but to look at this linen and see the colour of the flax two thousand years ago, it's just - absolutely mind-boggling

the whole exhibit was deliberately structured around highlighting the craftsmanship behind the artefacts, as well as the power, social structures, and cultural significance they represented, which was fairly well done. I watched that video after seeing the exhibition, and in hindsight, yeah, I did notice that many of the labels highlighted the detail and excellence of the items, and they had things like jewellery moulds and scribe's tools, as well as the big impressive statues and murals. at least a couple of the room introduction wall texts made sure to mention craftspeople; and there were a few places dedicated to both the bureaucratic structures, and working people and villages, that created and kept up the temples and palaces.

but there was also definitely a slight lack of information, i felt, in regard to the crafts, especially if that was their goal. i might also just be underestimating the general public, but there were a few times where we were wondering what something in an image was, but found nothing in the label; and it would've been cool if they, perhaps, had images or recreations of craftspeople in the period showing how the items would have been made.

like, obviously i'm biased towards the fabric, because that's my craft - and to be clear, the shroud was part of the room on jewellery and adornment, with the label pointing out the jewellery worn by the painted figure, rather than the craft of the item itself. but it would've been cool to have, in this example, either a contemporary image or a recreated one of what tools would have been used for the spinning and weaving of this cloth, and by what groups.

there were many parts of the exhibit where you could see on the glass where people had pressed their hands or noses or foreheads to try and get close, to see the intricate work on tiny rings or murals or votive items, the engraving and carving and painting done with such incredible skill. and again, they had those scribe's tools, and jewellery moulds, a few weapons, and (iirc) both ritual and functional builder's tools. which i DID VERY MUCH appreciate!

but fibre arts are already often devalued in our culture, and with industrialisation, we've really lost sight of the work and skill that, for thousands of years, went into making fabric. i would've loved to have seen them highlight not just the image of jewellery on this shroud, but the shroud itself.

because, yeah: this linen was beautiful. and to see this cloth, with these fibres that are finer and more uniform than many modern fabrics... like, obviously it's very good linen - the label only said it was for a woman called Isetweret, not what her status was, but i think it's a safe bet she wasn't the proletariat - but still.

just. i really fucking love history, oh my god

[bellsplit]

` ❅ ||   cryopathiic &  fallesto   »   (  &  the  beast  said, ' come  &  see! '  )

there's  an  almighty  crash   when the side of the so—called ascension room is  caved  in  —  there's no way that  any  creature within this place hadn't heard that sound,  from demons to humans to the rats living in the cellar.     douma had always insisted on  quiet  to keep his flock from seeing things that they shouldn't,  but  like  hell  is he going to respect that wish now :    the polychrome priest has transgressed against him too severely this time.

taking  his  prey, his partner,  &  right  out  from  under  his  nose  to boot.

he'd wondered why kyojuro hadn't returned after saying he wouldn't be gone long.     he'd wondered & he'd waited & he'd paced to & fro across their shared room at the bathhouse until day had finally given way to night,  allowing him to follow his nose,  kyojuro's scent long memorized,  to this place,  this wretched & divine place ...

well.     it's about to become much more  wretched  & less  divine.

because  this  akaza isn't the same starving one that the frozen lotus had been able to toy so easily with during the early stages of his tenuous bond with rengoku kyojuro :    this  akaza  has  eaten  a  full  meal,   &  recently.     yes,  he's broken his promise  —  but it's  the  only  way  that either of them will escape this entire debacle  alive.

his gilded gaze is as sharp & wicked as the fangs bared in utter defiance of the hierarchy as he closes the distance between himself & the prophet in one leap,  inked fingers closing  tight  around that holy neck to  choke.     no,  it's  destructive  death  that's come to this place of worship,  not a coworker with needs to sate.

"  where  is  he?  "     upper three demands in a voice like thunder.     "  what  have  you  done  with  him?  "

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

I’ve not been knitting for the past month due to a mixture of factors. But I have had some off and on work on several projects. Featured here are a kite shawl, an unblocked lace doily knit in worsted weight cotton, the most evil baby blanket i’ve ever had the displeasure of creating with my own hands, and yarn for a future sweater.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

aaaa

[x-brik-x]

I'm seeing a lot of people say that punk fashion is expensive and inaccessible, which is very wrong. here is a list of some ways you can make punk fashion easier, cheaper and more accessible for you, since that's... kinda the whole point.

others are encouraged to add onto this!! (just don't recommend corporations like amazon. not cool.)

1. patches!! you don't need to buy them. DIY patches are not ugly or boring. in fact, they are encouraged here!! DIY, in my opinion, is always the best thing to do when it is an option and is safe to do so.

2. speaking of DIY, spikes!! you can make them!!

cut the top and bottom off of an empty can. cut down the middle of the cylinder and flatten it, so it's just a flat rectangle of metal.

cut out a shape that is kind of a third of a circle, but around 3/4 of the curved edge is taken up by triangle shapes. (I'm not very good at describing, so here's a badly drawn picture)

roll it into a cone, leaving the 4 triangles sticking out at the bottom. this bit is optional, but you can fill it with hot glue to make it more sturdy, just be careful touching the hot metal. I tend to hold the cone by one of the triangles with a bit of fabric wrapped around my fingers for this bit. cut 4 small holes in your fabric in this kind of shape:

and put the spiky bits of triangle through the holes. fold the triangles in on themselves to secure the spike in place. boom. spike obtained. this is one I made and attached to a little piece of fabric to test this method out:

3. battle vests!! (like the base jackets). the best places to buy these are charity shops and second hand websites in my opinion, but if anyone else knows any better options, please reblog with those!!

a good trick I find works well on eBay is to filter search results to your country (or state? can you do that in the US? idk) so that a: fast delivery because local, and b: all the sellers of everything that shows up are in YOUR TIME ZONE.

why is this important? when people sell something for really cheap, it goes FAST. check eBay at like, 2am or something. all the scalpers in your area are asleep. grab the cheap stuff while they can't.

4. sewing!! want patches, but can't sew for whatever reason? I've heard of a lot of people with joint conditions like arthritis complain about the inaccessibility of patch stuff, and that does sound extremely annoying, however:

safety pins!! while they are still a little fiddly, they're much less work so you don't have to fiddle about for long. if you can, you could even ask a friend to help, since it doesn't take long at all I'm sure someone will be willing to help out!! (I know I would, but that's just me, and I love this kind of thing). safety pins on clothes are also widely considered to be a symbol of solidarity, so if anything, you're adding some extra love and meaning to your patch pants/battle jacket.

if that's still too fiddly, fabric glue is always an option. unfortunately this means you won't be able to remove/reposition patches, at least without leaving a massive patch of residue, but if you're ok with that then fabric glue is probably your best bet.

for people who prefer sewing: as for where to get the thread, I've heard a lot of people recommending dental floss, as it's apparently much cheaper and works just as well. I haven't tried this myself so can't confirm that, but I thought I'd share it regardless.

5. where to get fabric!! old clothes. rip em up. you don't need any kind of fancy fabric from the craft store. my patches are made of old jeans that I grew out of.

don't have any old clothes and you don't want to waste any good ones? I'm not sure about other countries, but in the UK, as long as you're not on private property (trespassing), dumpster diving is perfectly legal.

I definitely ;) do NOT encourage ;) trespassing rich people's land ;) to steal from their dumpsters ;)

or tbh it doesn't matter too much how rich the person is, since it's all going to landfill anyway. if it's in the bin, it's free game, but you didn't hear that from me. ;)

please add onto this where you can!! and if I missed something or got anything wrong, add that on too!!

[flowersforbucky]

diet pepsi

logan howlett x reader - 2.8k words

summary: old!logan x reader limousine sex. inspired by the song diet pepsi by addison rae

author's note: i recently rewatched logan and haven't been able to stop thinking about what it would be like to have him in the backseat of that limousine. then i heard this song a few days ago and knew exactly what i had to write.

warnings/tags: smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m&f receiving), pet names (princess, honey), reader has kinda longish hair (nothing too specific), a little angsty but mostly fluffy? happy ending, reader is afab, no use of of y/n, 18+ only mdni

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when we drive in your car, i'm your baby

losing all my innocence in the backseat

say you love, say you love, say you love me

losing all my innocence in the backseat

The cab of the limousine reeks of leather and smoke - both stale and fresh, from the cigars he has chain smoked over the last few days and two thousand miles - give or take a few.

It's a scent you've grown surprisingly fond of. You know that no matter how long this thing between the two of you lasts, you'll forever associate the smoky sweet aroma of tobacco with him.

You've been laying down across the backseat for the last few hours, trying and failing to get some sleep at Logan's request, as he drives from Reno back to New Mexico. The two of you had left the familiar comfort of the abandoned smelting plant three days ago in search of a bulk supply of Charles’ medications - a search that led you to Nevada and yielded a six month supply of injections and pills.

You sit up in the middle of the seat, meeting Logan's gaze in the rearview mirror.

He's exhausted. He’d never admit it to you, but you know him better than he likely realizes. He's hanging on by a thread.

The digital clock on the dashboard reads it's just past noon. Another four hours and some change to go.

Asking him to pull over and rest for his own sake would be a fruitless waste of time, this much you know from the drive to Reno. What was supposed to be at least a seventeen hour drive turned into a fifteen hour drive as he sped the whole way and only stopped for the absolutely necessary food, bathroom, and gas breaks. Only after obtaining the crates of medicine did he allow himself the simple luxury of a few hours sleep.

“What's that look for, princess?” he asks as he breaks his stare, his eyes snapping back to the endless expanse of the blazing asphalt in front of you.

“I'm hungry,” you shrug with a sly grin. “And I need some coffee. And I miss you.”

He lets out a low laugh, a smirk forming across his features in the reflection of the glass. You don't miss the way his fingers grip the cracked leather of the steering wheel tighter at the words I miss you.

“We'll stop for something to eat soon, I promise.”

You hum in response, moving from your position on the further bench seat to the one that rests against the driver’s and front passenger’s seat, directly behind him. You lean your chest against the backrest, dangling one arm across the seat so that you can bring your hand to stroke the prominent stubble across his jaw.

“And what about the last thing?” you murmur, running your thumb along his bottom lip as you stare at him. He tenses beneath your touch but doesn't take his eyes off of the road before him.

“I'm right here, princess. Don't gotta miss me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He's barely touched you since you had first left New Mexico three days ago - and you understand why, truly. He's been focused on getting to Reno, getting the medication, and getting the fuck back home before the last few days worth of Charles’ injections and pills are gone. Even when you stopped at a random motel for a few hours of shut eye, you were both too exhausted to do anything other than sleep.

In fact, it was the first time that you've slept in a bed together without him being between your legs. You didn't mind it all - the simplicity and the intimacy of just sleeping curled into each other was something you'd always cherish from this trip.

But you’d be lying if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t aching to have him in all of the ways that you’re so used to having him.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” he sighs, kissing the side of your thumb that still rests along his bottom lip. It's pathetic how the small act has you ready to crawl over the seat and straddle him. “We're almost home, though. Don't you want me to shower first?” he teases.

You know that both of you have to smell something foul - the motel you'd stayed in didn't even have a functioning shower, and the western United States heat is no joke this time of year. You both did the best you could with the bathroom sink and some baby wipes that you snagged from the gas station across the road, but whore's baths and deodorant just don't quite cut it in ninety-five degree weather.

“No, I don't,” you admit - you can't even bring yourself to care if it's pathetic. You bring your face closer to his, your nose nuzzling just under his ear. “I want you to pull over, get in the back of this car, and let me ride you until we both come.”

He hisses when your lips lock around the tender flesh of his earlobe, causing him to swerve and quickly correct back into the right lane.

“Fuckin hell,” he grunts, knuckles gripping the wheel so tight that they start to turn white. “Can't be saying that shit when I'm driving. Gonna make me wreck this thing.”

You laugh into the side of his neck, trailing wet kisses along his skin. “I'd suggest pulling over, then.”

He sighs again, all but melting into your touch now. You know you're getting your way when he flips on the turn signal and looks over his shoulder before merging right and then pulling off on the side of the desolate highway.

“You know that you've got me wrapped around your little finger, don't you?” He asks as he unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the limousine, slamming the driver's door behind him before you can respond. You move back to your original position on the back bench seat as he crawls in with you, pulling a spare key from his pocket to lock the still-running vehicle.

“Wrapped around my little finger is exactly where I intend to keep you.” He smiles - the first real smile you've seen from him in days and you melt a little inside. He kneels on the felt carpet before you, splaying his hands on your inner thighs and pushing them apart.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmurs into the flesh of your thighs, his facial hair tickling the bare skin. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of both your shorts and panties and you raise off the seat a few inches, giving him the clearance to tug them down past your ankles. You're left in nothing but a thin cotton tank top, your nipples pebbling from the way he's looking up at you.

“Cause that's exactly where I like to be.”

It's a rare occurrence that the two of you exchange such sweet sentiments - he usually only goes as far as whispering my girl in your ear as he sheaths himself inside you after late nights at work, when he comes home with lips that taste like single malt whiskey.

He loops his arms around the backs of your legs and tugs you forward on the seat, bringing your cunt directly to his mouth. Any sense of hesitation he initially had about hooking up on the side of the highway goes out the window as soon as his tongue licks a thick strip from your hole and up to your clit. You hiss, digging the fingernails of one hand into the old, weathered leather of the seat and bringing your other to lace your fingers through the salt and pepper colored locks of his hair.

As tired as he is from days of driving and very little sleep, you would never be able to tell with the fervency of his tongue lapping your folds. He always eats you like it’s the last time he ever will - and knowing Logan as well as you do, there’s always that chance that it very well could be.

So, you grab his hair and pull him as close to you as he can possibly be and revel in every lick, every kiss, every tug of his lips around your clit as he makes you believe that the two of you could have a lifetime of these moments together.

You can already feel that tell-tale warmth blooming in the pit of your abdomen when he brings a singular finger to your hole and plunges it inside you. Your walls constrict around the digit and he groans against your clit, the vibration spurring you closer to the edge of your climax. You grind yourself into his mouth as he sinks his tongue inside you, your back arching off of the seat and your eyes rolling into your head.

He pulls his tongue from inside you and moves his mouth up to your clit once more, locking his lips around the nub and pulling away with a wet pop that sends you over the edge. You ride out your orgasm on his face, writhing until he pulls his finger out of you. You’re still seeing rainbows of colors and stars when he brings the wet finger to your mouth and shoves it past your lips, swirling the sweet tang of your juices around in your mouth.

“You taste that?” he murmurs, pulling his finger out of your mouth and inserting it in his own. He takes his time, cleaning the last remnants of your slick from the digit. “That’s how you’ve got me so wrapped around your finger.” His words make your head spin, like you’ve had one too many shots of his favorite bourbon that he always keeps a steady supply of.

“Your turn.” Your words even sound slurred as you bring your fists to his chest, urging him backwards onto the seat opposite of you. You take his place on the floor of the limousine, crawling towards where he’s now lounging with his large thighs already spread wide for you.

You’re about to reach for the button of his jeans when he leans forward, grabbing the tail-end of your tank top and quickly tugging it over your head. You’re left bare before him and you’re hit with a wave of relief that these windows are tinted beyond what’s legal in the state of New Mexico.

His eyes travel from your thighs and up your stomach as he sweeps your hair over your shoulders, giving him an unhindered view of your breasts.

“My girl,” he hums, not taking his eyes off of you as he pops the button at the top of his pants and tugs down the zipper. “My pretty girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, butterflies mixing with arousal in your gut as you help him pull the restrictive fabric of his jeans and boxers down until they bunch around his ankles. His cock springs free, hard and leaking pre-cum down around the head.

You feel saliva pool in your mouth at the sight. As many times as you've had his impressive length inside you, you don't think it'll ever not make your mouth water.

You take the base of him in one hand, languidly pumping him as you lean forward, gathering all of the spit in your mouth and releasing it over the tip of his cock. You continue to stroke him, smearing the wetness down his length.

He groans, deep and guttural as he throws his head back against the seat. You can't see, but you know that his eyes have snapped shut at the pleasure.

When you've got him fully lubricated, you ease the tip of him into your mouth and swirl your tongue around his head. He brings a hand to the back of your head and pulls you forward, cramming more of himself into your mouth. You open wider to accommodate his length as it juts against the back of your throat.

“Fuck, honey,” he grunts when you pause to adjust to the stretch that you're feeling in your jaws. “You always take me so well. Never had anyone make me feel as good as you do.”

You moan around his dick at the praise, feeling your own arousal budding again in your lower belly. You pull back until only half of him is left inside your mouth, and then slowly begin to bob up and down, the tip of him repeatedly jabbing against the back of your throat. What little of his length that you can't take at one time, you continue to stroke in your hand. Your free hand comes to cup his balls, massaging them in rhythm with the thrusts of your mouth on his cock. You can feel tears begin to leak out of the corners of your eyes and down your cheeks from the lack of oxygen.

Right when you feel him begin to twitch against your tongue, he threads his fingers through your hair and yanks you off of him.

“You said you wanted to ride me until we both came, yeah?” He wraps his hands around the tops of your arms, pulling you upwards and onto his lap. You're too light headed to speak so you just nod quickly, adjusting your position across his lap. His cock is pressed against his lower stomach, lodged between the wet lips of your cunt and his happy trail.

“I want you to do just that.” He grabs you by the hips, pulling you forward along his shaft. You raise up on the balls of your feet as he takes himself in his fist, running his tip through your folds to lubricate himself with your juices before stopping at your hole. He juts his hips upwards at the same time that you sink down, causing the entirety of his length to be sheathed inside you at once.

“Oh my god,” you groan as you adjust to the sheer size of him. He always stretches you so painfully sweet. You steady yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders, realizing that he’s still in a two day old t-shirt. He reads your mind and yanks the fabric over his head. You take in the sight before you - all of the defined planes of his chest, his body hair that you love to run your fingers through when you’re riding him, that one vein that bulges on his bicep that you just want to trace with your tongue -

You raise up again, until he’s almost all the way out of you and only the head of his cock remains inside you before you sink back down all at once, earning an animalistic growl from him. You repeat the ministrations until you have acclimated to his size. You begin to increase your speed, the sound of your ass bouncing off of his thighs echoing around the limited space of the limosuine’s cab.

“So goddamn tight,” he spits through gritted teeth, one hand coming to plant a firm grasp on your asscheek. He digs his fingers into the meat with enough force to leave bruises but it only spurs on your movements. You liked it - the idea of being marked by him, even if it wasn’t something that anyone else would ever be able to see. “Always feel like you were made for me.”

You let out a pathetic whimper at his words, not knowing what to say or do to convey your emotions in that moment other than to lower your lips to his. He immediately opens his mouth to you, letting your tongue inside to merge with his. His taste was so comforting and familiar to you - tobacco and peppermint and something uniquely Logan. You didn’t think you’d find a flavor quite like it in anyone else, and you never wanted to test that theory.

“I was,” you whine breathlessly when you finally pull away. “Was made for you.”

He begins to meet your bounces with thrusts of his own, hitting the sweet spot of your cervix just right with each movement.

“Say it,” he grunts - you can tell he’s close by his movements growing erratic beneath you. “Wanna hear you say that you’re mine.”

You can feel your second orgasm building with every word that he says. He brings his free hand in between your bodies, finding your clit right away. He massages you with his thumb and you come around his cock with a cry of his name.

“I am,” you pant through your orgasm as he continues to thrust up into you. “I am yours, I’ve been yours, just yours.” Your admission sends him over the edge and he spills into you from below, both of his arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling your bare chest against his.

“You mean that?” he murmurs against the sweat-coated skin of your collarbone. You lean back enough to look down at him, cradling his jawline in the palm of your hand.

“I do,” you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. “But only if you’re mine, too,” you add with a small, nervous laugh.

“I've been yours since the day we met, princess. Just had a hard time believing you could want me in the same way.”

You snort a laugh at the confession that sounds so ridiculous to you, and then bring your lips to his once more to show him just how badly you absolutely do want to be his.

thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are always very appreciated 💕

other logan works by me: straight to my head • claw kink drabble • dog tag drabble

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Recently got busy and haven't had time to be around at all .. I just skimmed through whatever I have missed while I was away and I realized how badly I missed your writing style... It's just so ue2ge8eh27db❤️❤️⁉️⁉️ I can't really explain it.. its scrumptious, very very yummy... So I come with a little request... We know the obey men are quite and as a short girlie that's just like so fucking attractive like?????????? Sirrrr???? 😖😖

Imaginee... getting picked up by them and quite literally hanging off their cock as they just dangle you in the air, your feet not touching the ground as they just fuck yiu silly, watching your writhe and sob as their cock leaves a bulge on your stomach as you claw at their arms. They don't even gotta be trying, your just go dumb on their cock, crying how it's too big and having them bully themselves in you...

Basically that prompt with barbatos, Simeon and beel

I'm a very horny Tumblr user as you can tell LMAO

Love you though, take rests, eat, drink, stay healthy, darling. Mwah 💋

-M. 🪭🪷

Oh my god look who's back?!!! Hey M!!! Missed you loads, hopefully life eases up on you, busy little thing! Thank you for checking in, it means the world ❤️

And your ideas...just *chef's kiss*. Here's another treat for the short AFAB folks with size kink out there!!!

Little Body Big Heat

Afab! MC x Barbatos, Simeon, Beelzebub

Barbatos mock apologizes as you pant and plead him to stop. But he's barely even doing anything really. All he's doing is just standing there, carrying you in his arms, holding you so close.

You're the one struggling and twitching to take him in more or push him out. The way you are writhing - he genuinely cannot tell but he sure is enjoying the show.

"MC, use your words, won't you? I'm sorry I can't understand you when you're like this, my love." He coos, brushing hair away from your face.

"Mhhmm- B-Barb please.... please it's too much. Please ....just... help me move..." You struggled to string a sentence together.

And he finally the gracious butler takes pity on you. You're asking so nicely after all.

"Is this better?" He moves so painfully slow, you whine into his ears. "Oh? Would you like me to be... faster?" He kisses your neck, feeling the vibrations of your delightful complains, which soon would turn into delightful screams. And he wants everyone to hear them too.

Simeon's angelic side simply ceases to exist when it comes to his desire for you. Honestly what were you thinking falling asleep, sitting on his lap. Don't you know he already has a hard time behaving himself around you?

"Did you have a good sleep, MC?" He threads his fingers through your hair, pulling you closer for a kiss. "As you can see...I've run into quite the problem. I can't go home to Luke while I'm like this now, can I?"

You take some time to come to your senses. After all, it's not every day you wake up with Simeon's erection between your legs.

"Would you like to use me...to calm it down?" You gingerly try to hold him down there, it took both of your hands yet he was still much too big for you. He made a low groan at the contact.

"Really, you wouldn't mind?" He asks even as his fingers are already touching your waist, slowly pulling off your top.

"Your sense of duty is really admirable, MC." He chuckles as he pulls off your shorts, now undoing his own pants. "Now then, where would you like me?"

"You...can choose." You let him feast on you with his eyes and hands, enciting soft whimpers and moans. His fingers delight at the wetness pooled between your legs, toying with you before pressing his erection against your puffy clit.

He pushes into your hole, stretching you out but before you can't even let out a sound. His tongue is inside your mouth devouring your screams. You've taken him in so well. He can feel himself bulge out your stomach. "Does that feel good, my little lamb?"

You nod even tears collect at the corner of your eyes. "So good..so... full... It's toobiigg... you'resooo big S-Simeon... please..." Oh how he loves doing this to you.

Beelzebub's length is only the second most dangerous thing about him. The first is his stamina. You realise this now as you have been pressed against his lockers for what feels like hours. Your feet haven't touched the ground in so long.

"Beel...a-are you still.. not done..." You watched him pant, looking at you with a frenzied look in his eyes. When you told him you'd help him get his mind off food, this is not how he thought it would go.

"Beel! I-I know you're really famished ..but ...but you can't... keep...doing this...ahhhmn..mnhn Beel I'm about to...cum again...stop please..." He kept sucking your slick up, right through your orgasm. Talk about overstimulation.

He already tormented you with his tongue down there till you were leaking through your underwear. And now that he was too aroused to calm down, you simply had to let him fuck you. "Just...one last time, MC. I promise."

Yeah sure. He said that two rounds ago. Seriously you wondered how you had not passed out yet. But then again, everytime he moved - you swear he kept discovering a new pleasure point inside you.

"MC your face right now...you look so cute...I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself...and you feel so warm..." He plunged in and out of you again, bouncing you on his dick effortlessly. Of course he hasn't thought about food, he's been too busy devouring you.

[familyvideostevie]

day after tomorrow

joel miller x reader

summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him. 

warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k

A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3

___

He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff. 

"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill. 

Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently. 

"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.

The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch. 

"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights." 

"You remembered?" 

He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."

It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.

"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."

This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return. 

The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his. 

"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says. 

You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping. 

Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.

"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.

"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."

"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"

He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.

"I'll be fine, Joel."

"Hm."

He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.

"What are you up to this week?" you ask. 

He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."

"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like. 

He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"

You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit. 

It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.  

"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his. 

When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away. 

"Thank you for --"

"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says. 

You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"

His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again. 

"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."

"Thanks for the tea --"

"Now, what did I just say?"

You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this. 

"Safe flight, sweetheart."

You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel." 

6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?

You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange. 

6:05 am: don't text and drive!

He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift. 

6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land

6:06 am: will do. have a good day!

The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel. 

You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan. 

"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.

That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around. 

And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough. 

But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away. 

7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?

He texts back immediately. 

7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.

You laugh and do as he says. 

The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public. 

You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus. 

But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.

10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim

That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale. 

You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!

And then there's Joel.

Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward. 

It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.

"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs. 

"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."

"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder. 

"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."

Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly. 

Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him. 

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think. 

"You hungry?"

"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"

"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."

"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"

Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that. 

"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.

You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you say. 

Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.

"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise. 

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[slytherinshua]

HOLD MY HEART, KEEP IT SAFE

genre. hurt/comfort. mafia au. this is a part 2 to my other jeno fic (your wounds wrapped with my love)!! warnings. death, blood, knives, guns, gas chambers, & jeno almost dying all mentioned. reader going through immense guilt and complicated emotions bcuz of killing someone for the first time, nightmares, crying... i think that's it? pairing. husband!jeno x fem!reader. wc. 1.4k. request. requested by @blue-jisungs unofficially but i took it as an official request bcuz she's my baby all the rest of you are losers. a/n. read part 1 here!! this fic can be read as a standalone, but it's still part of the same universe so i recommend reading pt 1 if you haven't already!!

You woke up heaving in short and painful gasps, tears pricking at your waterline. The nightmares were almost like routine, yet they still felt so real everytime that you could never get used to them. You hadn’t enjoyed a good night’s rest in weeks. You could only fall asleep wrapped tightly in your husband’s arms, and even then you would always wake up from the dreams. 

When you had first met Jeno, you knew that getting yourself involved with someone who worked with crime was a risky choice to take. You knew the dangers, but Jeno was worth it to you. You swore to never mess with the stuff firsthand, though. Jeno insisted that you train enough to defend yourself in an emergency, so you were no stranger to a gun’s mechanisms or the best technique to stab someone in the throat with a knife. But you never touched his guns or daggers unless it was for training, you never went along on missions, and you certainly never took a life with your own hands.

That was, until 2 weeks ago.

It was your first wedding anniversary with Jeno, but, of course, you couldn’t expect that you would be able to have a romantic day like other couples. Jeno’s biggest enemy had baited him with an opportunity that was too important to pass up. But the risk was extreme. You trusted your husband without a doubt, but you knew in your gut that something would go wrong. And you were right.

Jeno had smoothly been able to get in and take out almost all of the henchmen, but he hadn’t anticipated that they would lure him into a locked room with a highly advanced gas system installed. There were no windows, the door was barricaded and too heavy duty to break, and Jeno had no way to stop the gas. 

If you hadn’t trusted your instincts and followed him to the base, you wouldn’t have been able to stop the gas flow and disarm the enemy. Thanks to your training with knives, you were able to take him out before he could harm your husband anymore. If you hadn’t taken that risk, Jeno wouldn’t be alive to this day.

In the moment, your only concern was saving your husband’s life, but the lingering regret and guilt from having a death on your hands was eating you whole. You couldn’t get it out of your head— the power you felt driving the knife straight through the man’s stomach, the horror that followed once you heard his blood curdling screams, and then the deafening silence. You had no idea how Jeno did it for a living. 

You heard your husband stir beside you, probably sensing your distress or the slight noise of the sheets shuffling. He trained himself to be an incredibly light sleeper for his own safety. He would wake up to the sound of a pin dropping when he knew there was an active threat.

He knew that there was no threat right now. You had made sure of that 2 weeks ago. But Jeno still sat up, letting his tired eyes fall to your figure, his heart clenching in his chest at the sight. He knew exactly how you felt. He had experienced the same thing when he was still training under Johnny and Ten. The knowledge that someone had died at your hands was unlike any other. No matter how justified the death was, it still felt the same.

He reached out his hand, gently tracing a line on the top of your hand before he threaded his fingers with yours and squeezed. Slow rubs of his thumb over your knuckles was a small amount of comfort for how much you were feeling, but Jeno knew it was all that was needed to calm you down. Any conversation immediately about the nightmare would only lead to more tears. Once Jeno heard that your breathing had evened, he spoke up.

“I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t killed him. I know it was hard.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, his lips soothing your hot skin. 

“Can you wash them again?” You asked, referencing your hands that Jeno still held. 

It had become obsessive ever since that day. The image of your hands soaked in blood never left your mind. You had already washed away any remnants of the red stains 2 weeks ago, but in your brain, they were still there. The constant scrubbing had caused damage to your skin. Jeno took over washing them for you, knowing that he would be gentler on your skin than you would in your current state. He was patient with you, obliging in anything that you asked for in hopes that it would help you feel better.

He led you to the sink of the bathroom and turned on the tap, finding the right temperature before he let your hands fall under the stream of water. He had bought soap that was extra gentle on the skin just for you. Squirting some into his palm, he massaged it into your hands as gently as possible. He was thorough yet soft with how he washed you, handling your hands as if they were the most precious thing. They were what had saved his life, after all.

He guided you back to bed, gathering the covers over your figure and sliding under them himself. He tucked himself next to you so that his head was mere inches from yours, lying on pillows side by side, you resting safely in his arms. You wanted to thank him a million times as your eyes wandered over his face gazing back at you with so much love. He had so much to worry about already just from the nature of his job. You hated to add to his burden in any way.

Truly, if it had been anyone else, Jeno would not have been able to be so patient and caring. His fellow assassins were well able to handle a few deaths. They were prepared for what a mission would look like and had time to separate whatever happened on the job from their everyday life. You weren’t prepared for that, and unable to make that switch in your brain. Everything that had happened that night lingered in your mind whether you wanted to think about it or not.

“I still feel sorry for ruining our anniversary night. I wanted to take you out on a nice date, show you how much I love you. When you feel better I’ll make it up to you, yeah? I’ll plan something 10 times as nice as I originally had in mind. Just for you.” He whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear, admiring your beauty. 

“The ruined anniversary is the last thing on my mind. You almost died, Jeno.” Tears welled in your eyes as you said it out loud. By the time you had killed the man and unlocked the door to the gas chamber, Jeno could barely stand on his own. Although you had stopped the gas flow beforehand, he had inhaled enough that it was hindering his breathing. Had you taken much longer, he would have already been dead by the time you got to him.

“I’ve almost died a million times. It’s not like it’s new.” He muttered.

“I haven’t seen you almost die before. Don’t say that it doesn’t matter. How am I supposed to live if you die?” You were crying again at this point. 

Jeno sighed. He wanted you to see it from his perspective, but it wasn’t worth a fight. Especially not right now. You were already distressed.

“I know, darling. I’m sorry.” He pulled you closer, head resting against his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. He was alive. That was all that mattered to you.

“Go back to sleep, Y/n. I’m right here.” He whispered, stroking your back to lull you into dreamland. 

Being in his arms felt warm and comforting. Others would say that he was a cold man, too dangerous to even approach. It was true that his job was uncertain and risky, illegal at many points, and only succeeded, in some cases, at the cost of others' lives. But his heart was warm. For you, he would risk everything. 

Despite what anyone else said, you knew that Jeno was a good man. He was not the first person to capture your heart, but he was the only one who you trusted enough to keep it safe. He could carry it with him wherever he went and bring it back to you unscathed. He would never need to give it back to you, though, nor did you ever want him to. You wanted him to keep it until the end of time, safe in his possession, and you, safe in his arms.

↳ nct dream taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @lexeees,, @nyukyusnz,, @lovesuhng,,

@planetkiimchi,, @ujisworld,, @heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

@bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @chenleszone,, @talking-saxy,,

@cupidslovearrows

[project-sekai-facts]

Hey I've been wondering, could you explain Akito and his death symbolism? It's been constantly mentioned or implied in his recent focus songs and VBS covers (getting lines about "death" or "dying" and the likes)

It's just because the fandom is using that to mischaracterize him as an overly depressed and suicidal guy (another Mafuyu copy; pls save him and Tsukasa) and I just don't think that's what the writers mean to say and the point of his whole character!!!

(prefacing this: I'm aware there was a thread about this going round twitter a while ago, I haven't read it specifically because of this ask and if anything is the same that wasn't intentional and I apologise)

A large part of Akito's character arc is his difficulty with improvement and his sheer determination and passion that goes alongside it. He had always viewed his lack of natural talent and unrefined skills as something that made him inferior, which only led to him pushing himself to his extremes, and trying to face things independently and head-on. This is something that's touched on heavily in the STRAY BAD DOG event, where we get to see him learn to rely on his teammates more and realise that he isn't alone. Find A Way Out continues his arc of personal development, with him realising he's actually not so different to the people he looks up to, and finally learning to accept and feel confident with his improvement instead of just pushing forward almost desperately. It's that idea of him finally realising that he won't always be a step behind everyone else and good things are actually coming with his hard work.

Building off that idea, it's like a sort of rebirth. And that's where the links to Kashika come in. Kashika is a song about death and longing which gets horribly misinterpreted and has led people to believe Akito is suicidal which is simply untrue. The thing that's dying in this context is Akito's old self. The child who had no talent and was falling so far behind everyone. The child who worked so, so, so hard to be perfect is dying. And that sounds like a negative thing but it's really not. It's a metaphor for Akito reflecting on himself and moving on from the past and breaking new ground.

The 2DMV adds another layer to this with its marigolds, which not only symbolise death, but also can symbolise a renewal. And in this case, renewal refers to Akito's growth following the events of FAWO. He finally faced up to his past mistakes and overcame them, but even then he won't let himself feel relief. It's only with the help of Taiga's story about Ken that he's finally able to be more satisfied with himself and how far he's managed to come. He's finally able to break out from that belief that he's forever going to be stuck behind, and he's able to have faith in himself. Realising that Ken was just like him and managed to get to such a high level of skill and be so respected by those around him finally lets Akito believe that he too can reach that same light.

The butterflies in the background again symbolise renewal or transformation. It's not about death as per se, it's about change. Change and growth and transformation are recurring themes in prsk's character writing, and Akito is no exception. While on a surface level, Kashika is about death, if you put it next to the story, it's about regeneration. Akito is moving forward and leaving the old him behind, he says as much in the FAWO story.

If you actually read the lyrics to Kashika, it's genuinely kinda shocking to me how much people misinterpret its connection to Akito as a character. Like I get the song talks about death a lot and wanting to die, but particularly in these extracts you can see some of the key points of the FAWO event - Akito's determination, passion and self-acceptance. It's a song about Akito growing up, physically and emotionally, and saying goodbye to his past self.

Now as anon pointed out, the marigolds previously appeared in his card from Light Up The Fire. And while in the case of this event, it was most likely drawn to connect with the story surrounding Nagi's death, but it's worth mentioning that every character had their own flower, so the marigolds are specific to him.

As I mentioned in today's fact, aside from being associated with death, grief, and mourning, marigolds can also have positive connotations of optimism and passion based on their warm and vibrant colors. One of the key elements of LUTF was despair and grief, shown through more ways than one. Whilst the truth of Nagi's death came as a shock to the VBS and the others, the following battle with Taiga crushed their hope to the point that everyone except VBS gave up. VBS decides to keep trying for Nagi, and again there's that idea of a renewal. They know the truth now, and are going to come back and get better. Now while this is more general about VBS, the marigolds are still specific to Akito, considering how he's always been the most determined one who has taught himself that the only way he can succeed is through sheer perseverance. Whilst it applies to all of VBS in this instance, it applies even moreso to him.

Also it leads very nicely into his fes card story, which follows after the events of LUTF from his point of view. Something notable about his fragment sekai is that it's a completely barren wasteland. It's dead. And to top it all off, he gets amnesia. However the whole point of his sekai is to remind him of his determination, remind him that he has never once given up on this dream, how he's fought and fought to hold onto it and shouldn't let what happened with Taiga and the truth behind RW strike him down. Despite the area being dead and barren, and despite the fact he can't even remember who he is at all, he still pushes forwards and keeps walking through the dangerous environment because he knows he can't just sit around, he knows he has to do something. He knows it's not a choice, it's a necessity for him to persevere, even if he can't remember why. In the end he does remember, and finds a single flower that is managing to flourish despite the harsh conditions, and he even compares himself to it because truthfully they're one in the same. Even in a hopeless situation, Akito manages to pull through. In a metaphorical sense, he can't truly die, he still finds a way to thrive even if the world is against him. His determination truly is the core of his character.

And that leads us nicely to BURN MY SOUL, which I would consider to be the end of his first character arc. Despite having learnt a lesson about his true strength and potential in FAWO, he still hasn't reached that full potential, and he still believes that he needs to keep pushing and keep working. Through Ken's advice, he's able to realise that he's been so focused on perfection that he's bottling up all the passion inside of him. Because he's so passionate about music and it's this passion that fuels his resolve that is ultimately his core, his soul. And especially after everything that's happened, the fact that there's still a lingering sense of despair after the incident with Taiga, he needs to truly let that passion burn and realise that his true potential has been inside of him all along. His role as assigned by Ken is to light up a fire amongst the people again, so he let's the fire within him burn freely for the first time, and it works exactly as needed and is able to rekindle hope throughout the town and in one of his teammates.

Back to that idea about how metaphorically Akito cannot die, I really like the symbolism of fire within VBS and Akito in particular because it's framed in such a way that the fire lit by RW is a flame that can't burn out. Even with things such as CRaZY's "I'm so ready to die" and the "I'm going to pry it open like I'm going to die" voiceline that plays when you pull his WL card, it's not meant in such a way that he wants to die, but in a way that he's going to put his all into it as if it is the last thing he'll ever do. Akito doesn't want to die, he wants to live to see things through to the end. He's too determined to let anything snuff out his flame, and even then that makes me think of the original usage of snuffing out a flame, which was actually to trim the wick so the flame could burn brighter. If you care enough about that dumb candle analogy, you could say that Taiga/the events of LUTF tried to extinguish Akito's flame, only for him to come back from the dead (and quite literally considering the wasteland in his fes card), and now he's only burning brighter and stronger.

Akito's death symbolism isn't a negative thing. Akito isn't someone who wants to die, he's too determined to die. No matter how much the universe tells him to give up he'll never stop pushing and never stop breaking down the walls around him until he sees his dreams through. All his death symbolism is equally tied to the idea of rebirth or even just living. Kashika is about him leaving his past behind and moving forward, his fes card is about his passion counteracting despair, and Burn my soul/CRaZY/Break down the wall are all about him being so fired up that he's going to act as if it's his final day. He's learning to be satisfied with his life and where he is. He's ready to live and to say he wants to die is a great injustice to his character arc.

[thatfreshi]

Pitch Black (Astarion x Reader)

TW - panic attack, claustrophobia, themes of death/rotting

I based this off some sad lore I found out about him yesterday :(

Recommended Song: Rainy Day Loop - SALES

There's a lot of things Astarion hasn't told you. You don't mind, because a lot of those things are hard to relive. Everything he tells you comes with a price, but he does it mostly out of necessity. There are times you know something lies deeper, and yet you don't pry. It will come to light if he decides it needs to.

However, he never told you about one of the first truly cruel things Cazador did. How one day he refused him, told him no for once. He woke up buried six feet under, starving in undeath for an entire year until his master dug him up again. That was the last time he disobeyed.

This led to a fear he never told you about, claustrophobia, that terrifying feeling of being unable to escape small spaces. He doesn't like closets, this you knew, but you assumed it was because they're dark and sad, not because they're small rooms.

One morning you're sleeping, peaceful, arms wrapped around him tight. He wakes up before you, calm at first. When he realizes his discomfort at feeling trapped in your arms, he gently tries to move you off of him, but you grab back in your slumber, not knowing what's going on beyond the barrier of sleep. That first wave of panic sets in as you wrap yourself tighter than before, and he freezes up, remembering the smell of musty dirt and bones. He tries to scoot away, and you unknowingly pull him in again. That second time is enough for him to feel fully trapped, and without thinking he bites down hard on your arm.

"GODS!"

You bolt up out of your sleep, holding your arm, realizing it was Astarion who caused the sudden alarm. He sits at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, still trying to ground himself. You try to ask him things, why the hell he'd do that to you, but he can't hear your questions. The worms, the beetles, at some point you become accustomed to the tiniest sounds. He wondered if they'd start to eat away at him, if vampires were like corpses, if he would slowly decompose in the ground. You go to touch his hand and he yanks it away, standing up.

"Astarion!"

And he finally turns to see you on the bed, your arm bleeding badly, how concerned you look. He can't speak though. Footsteps, people passing by, unable to scream because of how tightly packed the sediment is. You try anyways.

"Aster, listen to me. I need you to listen to me, okay?"

You're panicking. You haven't seen him this bad in a while. He's not there, at least not truly there. To be knocked out, only to wake up in pitch black, what a horror.

"I think you're having a panic attack my love, can you try to focus on one thing in the room?"

A painting, a landscape of a graveyard. He was put in a graveyard, some kind of cruel joke. His eyes wander to the frame, golden, like thread. He remembers stitching little phrases and stories into his clothes, he remembers the first time he did such a craft for you. The breathing starts to settle, still shaking, he sits back down next to you, and just starts sobbing. You go to hug him and he flinches.

"No!"

You are almost taken aback, but you remember that it's not your fault.

"Okay, that's okay. I'll just sit here with you."

He just cries for a while, and you let him. Clearly something startled him badly, badly enough that he bit you. You forgot until now that you were bleeding. Not only did his fangs pierce, but many of the rest of his teeth got through the skin. As you're analyzing your wound, you take part of the blanket and press it into your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Astarion notices the movement, and you see guilt overcome his face immediately. You interrupt before he can speak.

"It's okay darling, I know you didn't mean it."

He wipes at his tears, finally coming back to reality, truly grounding himself.

"I... I'm sorry."

"I know, it's okay."

He stares at a crack in the floorboards.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He nods, mainly because he hates it when you're confused.

"So... a long time ago, Cazador decided it would be fun to bury me alive."

He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, how someone could even think to do that. You just listen.

"And I stayed there for an entire year. And I don't know how it happened, but you tried to hug me tighter while you were asleep, and I- I just panicked, I felt so trapped and it just reminded me so much of-"

He can't even bring himself to say it again.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."

He scoffs.

"Yeah, you were asleep, and I freaked out like a monster and bit you."

He gazes down at the wound, wincing at what he's done.

"Hey, look at me. Wounds heal, I'll be okay. What matters is that you're okay."

"I... I think I'm okay now. Just, feel miserable."

"That's okay, you're allowed to feel however you want."

"I know. Thank you my sweet."

He picks your hand up off the bed, holding it to his face. It takes weeks after for him to be hugged again, especially being the little spoon, but you don't mind. You'll go through every phase of his, good and bad. This one just happens to be bad, and that's okay. He'll be okay. You'll both be okay.

[cosmicatta]

One Piece Novel: Law — a short analysis

So, after a long time trying to get my hands on the Law light novel, I was finally able to read it recently! And, because I'm an obnoxiously intense person who can't just be normal about things, I found myself taking notes about everything I judged interesting.

And I thought I could share! So here's a mostly improvised essay about the Law novel, how it portrays Law and what it reveals about him as a character.

Some notes before I start:

The edition I've read of this novel is the official Spanish translation by Planeta. When quoting and mentioning numbered pages, I'm referencing that edition.

I originally posted this on Twitter as a thread! If it sounds familiar, that might be why.

For those who haven't read the novel and might want to: be mindful of some trigger warnings, including gruesome medical descriptions, suicidal thoughts, mentions of abuse, and violence in general (I won't be touching on these subjects here though).

These are just my personal impressions, I'm not trying to tell anyone how they should interpret the novel or Law's character. I'm just doing this for fun!

The story takes place right after Cora dies, following young Law's journey as he makes it to Swallow Island and desperately tries to survive. There, he will meet Bepo, Penguin and Shachi, as well as Wolf, a novel-exclusive character that welcomes Law and the boys into his home as a family.

Overall, it's a very short read, agile and straightforward. The style is very juvenile, but that was to be expected, and I'd say it does a pretty good job at capturing the feeling of watching a One Piece episode. The novel does kinda feel like a mini arc.

I'm unsure if light novels can be considered 100% canon in general, but since the contents don't contradict anything from what we've already seen in the manga/anime, I'm going to assume we can at least take the events described in this one as canon.

But I'll leave the plot aside a little bit to focus more on Law's psyche, analyzing everything in the novel as material that helps us further understand him.

The entire book (save from a few specific passages) is written from Law's point of view and in first person, so it offers a more in-depth look at his way of thinking, motivations and ideals.

What I find most interesting in this sense is that the whole story is very centered around Law's kindness. Though he does admit several times that he had wanted to see the world burn when he was under Doflamingo's care (as we already know from the source material), the novel makes it very obvious that Law's true nature is compassionate. His inner voice even explicitly states that he enjoys helping and making others happy. (Quotes roughly translated from Spanish):

P. 27: "And I felt very comfortable collaborating with the task of helping others."

P. 92: "Knowing that I was going to free a person from their pain [...] gave me a joy I had never experienced before."

P. 136: "Just imagining the surprised faces of the Old Man, Bepo and the others brought a smile to my face" [when planning on getting fresh fish for dinner as a surprise].

And, despite living under Wolf's motto of "give to take," Law never expects anything in return for any of his good actions. In fact, he gets furious at Wolf himself when, after saving his life, the old man insists on giving Law anything he demands as compensation.

P. 120: "I didn't save you because I wanted a reward!" [...] They [Bepo, Shachi and Penguin] burst into tears of happiness when they realized that you had survived. That's more than enough for me! [...]" I won't let you belittle their tears!"

But even then, Law keeps arguing that he only saved Wolf "on a whim," much like he would say years later when asked why he chose to save Luffy's life. This is a common theme throughout the whole book (which is also pretty obvious in the manga)—Law doesn't recognize his own kindness.

It's not modesty or shyness, his inner monologue makes it very clear that he doesn't see himself as good-natured, and is often confused at his own motivations.

In their first meeting, when Bepo asks him why he is so nice to him, Law doesn't know what to answer; and after that, when Law finds himself wondering why he's trying so hard to save Shachi and Penguin despite their past history, he blames it all on "doctor's pride."

P. 48: "I wasn't even a good person."

Still, regardless of what Law might think of himself, living in Swallow Island seems to be making him progressively gentler. He was wary and hostile towards Wolf at first, but eventually lets himself trust people again, trying to honor Cora's memory and what he taught Law.

In Swallow Island he builds his new found family little by little, though never letting go of Cora and what he meant to Law.

P. 39: "Cora and I were family, that's what I felt at heart, I had no doubts. We had loved each other without saying it out loud [...] Would I feel the same for the Old Man and Bepo eventually?"

Slowly, he starts finding comfort and joy in community. He lets himself be carefree around his new friends, treating them with open affection, laughing and being surprisingly enthusiastic (although he quickly starts taking his role as a leader very seriously, and sometimes avoids showing weakness around them so as not to worry them.)

Law even gets to become an active part of life in Pleasure Town, where he and the other boys are cherished after 3 years living and working there. He's comfortable with his role in the community and appreciates the people in town. His sense of duty towards them shines especially when the pirates arrive to attack the town.

Again, this contrasts with how Law sees himself even in the manga/anime, where he insists that he acts mostly out of selfishness and only seeking his own benefit (or, in the best of cases "on a whim.")

But the truth is that Law's decisions are almost always related to other people's desires.

In this sense, the concept of guilt is also key to understand Law's motivations and his relationship with the world as a whole. This is especially obvious when it comes to Cora—Law even briefly wishes that they had never met, so that Cora would still be alive (p. 128-129.)

In a way, guilt is what moves Law forward, and what slowly starts transforming into a thirst for revenge, into rage and hatred towards Doflamingo and possibly towards himself too. It's a kind of tragic guilt born out of love.

His love for Cora still haunts him, his last wish for Law is the big enigma that he tries to solve during his 3 years in Swallow Island: be free. What is freedom to Law? How can he fulfill Cora's request? This is the question that gives meaning to the novel.

We know that Law wouldn't feel free until finally taking down Doflamingo and avenging Cora's death many years later, but he hasn't reached that point of determination in the novel yet. Maybe that's what gives the narration that hopeful and optimistic tone, with a young Law that's still finding himself, experiencing wonder in loving again, and learning what it means for him to be true to his values. It's the start of an adventure, and its core theme is love.

The ending illustrates this very well; I especially like the moment where Law names the crew as they're setting sail:

P. 243: "Cora's love that he showed me, Wolf's affection, the trust I had in my companions. One word embodied it all: Heart."

It is love that gives Law a reason to keep going. And I'm so glad that the novel doesn't shy away from this fact and isn't afraid of sounding "sappy" or "corny," because I do believe emotion is a very important part of Law's character.

The epilogue closes with a very interesting quote in the last page:

"You hear that, Cora? This is my... This is our pirate crew."

It is unclear if by "our" he is referring to himself and Cora, as if dedicating this new beginning to him, or if he means him and his crew. I'd personally like to think he means it both ways. But in any case, it's interesting that he openly shares the honor of "owning" his crew with someone else. He is the captain, but not the owner. It's another little way in which his generosity is evidenced.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable read, and it left me wanting more. Obviously, it's not a literature masterpiece, but it gives a lot of interesting material for character analysis, which is super fun.

Finally, here’s a few fun facts for those who can’t/don’t want to read the novel but enjoy the little trivia:

The Polar Tang was built and designed by Wolf.

Law’s first tattoo was "DEATH," and he got it at a local tattoo shop in Pleasure Town at around 15 years old.

Shachi and Penguin are childhood friends and likely met through their parents.

Shachi had always wanted to be a hair stylist.

Law is bad at cooking.

Both Shachi and Penguin are good at cooking, especially Penguin, who worked as a waiter in Pleasure Town.

The Hearts’ jolly roger was collectively designed by Law, Bepo, Shachi and Penguin days before leaving Swallow Island.

Law decided the name of their crew upon setting sail for the first time.

And I think that's all! ♥ I hope my rambling was enjoyable at least!

Edit: I've now posted an analysis of the Ace novels too!

[theoriginalkaminari]

Dabi with a healer S/O!

Reader has a healing quirk, anything you touch can start to heal instantly, but slowly

Warnings: Blood, sorta ooc Dabi?

"Hey, you." Dabi speaks, leaning against the doorframe. His deep turquoise eyes look at you up and down, a smirk remaining on his face.

Blood drips from the wounds on his waist and onto the floor. "Mind patching me up?" He says, not really asking. He walks over, sitting on the bed.

You turn to him with a look of confusion on your face that quickly turns to shock.

"Oh my god!" You quickly rush to him, examining his wounds. You grab the bandages, putting them to the side as you dab Dabi's wounds with rubbing alchohol.

Dabi doesnt wince or flinch as you tend to his wounds, not even protesting. He remains silent and motionless, allowing you to do what you need to do. As you work, you notice that his burn scars are extensive and that some of his stitches are coming loose.

You let out a small sigh, knowing you should probably fix those too. Turning away for a moment, you grab the needle and thread. When you turn back to him, you slowly begin to restich the burns.

You try to make it as painless as can be, occasionally glancing up at Dabi's face to see his expression.

Eventually, you finish. Looking up at him, you ask, "What happened?" In a soft and gentle tone.

Dabi is silent for a moment, clearly hesitant to answer. He glances at you, taking in your beauty and soft features. He feels a strange sensation in his chest, as if his heart is beating faster. "It's none of your business." He finally replies, his voice cold and harsh.

You begin to feel a bit frustrated. You just kept this idiot from dying, and he wasn't even going to tell you what happened? How annoying...

"I'm just trying to help." You retort, using your quirk to numb his pain and make the wound heal faster. After a few seconds of silence, you begins to speak again. "Dabi…please. Stop being so reckless." You say softly.

"Your important to the me and the rest of the league…not just because of your quirk." You murmur in a soft voice.

The more Dabi looks at you, the more he sees you as an angel. "I don't need your pity." He waves you off, not seeming to care about the things you say to him.

You give up trying to reach him, putting the remaining bandages away. "I'm done patching up your wounds." You say, turning you back to him as you put your supplies away.

You then look back at him, looking up at him. "Is there anything else that needs to be fixed?" You ask, your voice soft.

Dabi smirks at you, standing up and stepping closer, towering over you with his impressive height. He leans down to your level and speaks in a low voice. "Actually, there is something that needs to be fixed." He says, looking into your eyes.

Slightly unamused with Dabi's antics, you raise an eyebrow. You reach behind you, grabbing the bandages again. "Such as..?"

"You." Dabi says bluntly. "Your too soft and sweet for a villain." He adds, running his fingers through your hair. "I'm surprised you haven't been eaten alive yet.

You begin to feel very annoyed with this. You belong here just as much as anyone else in the league does. "Excuse me?" You respond, stepping back.

Dabi chuckles at your response and stands up straight, continueing to tower over you. "I'm just saying that you don't fit in with the rest of us villains." He says, his voice still low. "You're too kind and innocent for this life."

"I'm not a delicate flower that's in need of protection." You take his hand off your hair and glare at him. "And especially not YOUR protection." You retort. "And if theres nothing broken, I'll be going now." You say sternly, turning and ready to walk away.

Before you can, Dabi grabs your wrist and pulls you back towards him, his other hand sliding down to your waist.

"Oh, right, sure. You're definitely not in need of protection." He says sarcastically, pulling your body flush against his own. "I can see it in your eyes, you're not used to this kind of life. You're too gentle and kind to be a villain." He looks at you with a mischievous smile. "I can take care of you."

You narrow your eyes, and move your hand down to his waist. You pinch his fresh wounds, making him let go of you.

"I told you, I don't need your protection." You say, finally walking away.

Dabi watches you leave. He smirks to himself, knowing that you'll come chasing back to him again.

Its only a matter of time before he has you in his arms again.

[steveshairychest]

Steve doesn't flinch when a punch is being thrown his way. He's used to violence. Used to the sting of a fist against his cheek or a knee in his ribs. Used to the uncomfortable pain of a black eye or a broken nose. What he isn't used to is gentleness. He flinches the first time Eddie reaches out and brushes hair out of his face, and flinches again when Eddie cautiously threads his fingers with Steve's at the movies.

Eddie thinks it's because of him. He thinks Steve doesn't like him, doesn't like touching him or being around him. He says so after Steve nearly jumped through the roof of the car after Eddie put his hand on Steve's thigh. "Do you not like me anymore?" He asks quietly, insecurity bleeding into every word as he avoids Steve's eyes.

Steve shakes his head quickly and takes Eddie's hand in his own, unsure of how to make things right. "No, I'm just, uhm, still getting used to how gentle you are. It's not a bad thing! I love it. It's just a little overwhelming for a guy like me."

"A guy like you?" Eddie raises an eyebrow in question.

"I haven't always been a good guy." He says after a moment, and Eddie squeezes Steve's hand in comfort. Steve doesn't flinch this time. "I used to start fights for no reason. I would pick on kids that are just like Dustin and Mike and You. I-I wasn't a nice guy. I was a dick. I just feel like I don't deserve to be handled so gently, so softly." It hurts to say it out loud. The truth makes him feel sick to the stomach, it makes him want to run and hide from himself.

He hates who he used to be.

"You really were kind of a dick." Eddie laughs.

Steve smiles sadly and sinks back into the car seat. "I know." He knows it's the truth, but it still hurts to hear Eddie agree.

"But -" Eddie turns around in the seat and scoots as close to him as he can in the cramped front seat of Steve's car. "You've changed so much, Steve. You're not that guy anymore. I'm proud of you for acknowledging that what you did was wrong. Yes, you used to beat people up and start fights for no reason, but look at you now, sitting outside the arcade waiting for the gaggle of children that you've literally fought monsters for."

"You're a good guy, Steve." Eddie leans in close and whispers, "You're actually kind of a loser now."

Steve feels like he's going to cry. Eddie's too good for him, even if he did just call him a loser. "Hope you don't mind having a loser as a boyfriend."

Eddie leans over the centre console and kisses him softly and sweetly. "Nope, don't mind one bit. As long as you don't mind having a freak for a boyfriend, we're all good."

Steve laughs and leans back to admire the man who's changed his life for the better; the man he loves. "Hmm, I don't know... I saw you eat a whole packet of cheese yesterday."

"I was hungry!"

"I was cooking dinner! Plus, you're lactose intolerant."

"So, you're saying you don't date lactose intolerant people?"

"Yep, sorry, babe."

[ifiguredyoudloveme]

Night Swim (NSFW)

timothée chalamet x female!reader

summary: timothée and y/n go skinny dipping at night and things get a little...yeah.

warnings: p in v sex, semi-public sex, water sex, timmy loves boobs, creampie, accidental biting (?), mild blood.

words: 1,000

a/n: i don't really like this but oh well.

— ˗ˋ ୨♡︎୧ ˊ˗ —

I sink my bare feet into the cold water of the lake. It's freezing, and Timmy winces besides me. I look at him and flash a cheeky smile with a giggle, and his eyes widen as does his smile as he tries to stand and get away from me. He's too late, and I jump into his arms with mine wrapped around his neck and pull us both in. We release each other as we swim to the surface and I come up just after Timmy.

"Fuck you!" He laughs and splashes me, moving out of the way as I attempt to splash him back. "It's freezing!"

I laugh and wrap my arms around myself. "It was your idea, idiot."

His face contorts into an expression of fake anger, a smirk still present on the corners of his red, almost purple lips. When he dives at me and wraps his arms around me, both of us sinking into the water once more, I don't put up a fight. We emerge and he stares at my lips, pink. My legs are wrapped around his hips and in the water I'm light as ever. He gently takes a hold of my face in his hands and our smiles quickly drop into arousal.

"Kiss me," he whispers, and I do, locking our lips together, his top lip slotted between mine. We move our lips in a slow dance for a moment, no tongue, simply enjoying the feel of our cold lips warming against each other. My arms slide around his neck with ease from the slippery state of our wet bodies. He moves his hands from my face to around my waist, pulling me in close, my boobs pressing into his lower chest as he slides his tongue into my mouth. I accept it and offer my tongue in return. Our tongues dance along with out lips, faster now, verging on desperation.

His cock quickly hardens and brushes lightly against my clitoris, sending a shiver down my spine no longer from the cold but from a deep warmth in my core. Our lips disconnect and we stare into each other's eyes, lungs expanding and deflating rapidly. The eyes say everything and we both know exactly what we want at this very moment.

Licking his lips, he sinks down and connects them to my collarbone, nibbling lightly. His hands slide over my boobs and the tips of his thumbs swirl over my nipples that are erect from a mix of the cold and desire. I exhale a light moan and thread my fingers through his wet curls as he slides his lips down and wraps them around my left nipple. He sucks, still groping them, a soft groan erupting from deep in his chest.

I reach between us and find his fully erect cock to wrap my hand around. Now he lets out an open-mouthed moan of a higher pitch, his breath wafting against my sensitive nipple. He sucks and massages at a faster pace as I stroke him ever so slowly, my grip tight, his arousal clouding over his brain and taking hold.

With the water there's no need for lube, and once he emerges from my chest and wraps his arms tight around my waist, he lifts me and sinks his cock inside of me in one smooth movement. We simply stare and breath each other in, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips part as he fucks into me ever so slowly, almost painfully so.

The moonlight glistens against our wet bodies and I know, in a thought that flees as soon as his fingers gently rub over my clit, that anyone could walk past and know what we're doing. It's not rare that people swim naked in this lake at this hour; we're lucky we've got it to ourselves at least for tonight.

The speed of his cock increases, as do his fingers, fucking me in a way of pulling out slowly until the tip is barely inside before pushing back in with speed. Repeat. Our lips are barely touching and his fingernails dig into my back as mine dig into his shoulders, the light pain amplifying the intense pleasure we're giving one another. Our eyes haven't fluttered closed once, not daring to miss an expression, a twitch of the eyes, eyebrows, lips.

As I drop my head and cum with a stifled moan against his shoulder, his movements become inconsistent. He's close.

He moans and places his head against the side of my neck as his shuddered thrusts become erratic. His mouth is open against my flesh and his breath is also shuddered, a replication of the movement of his hips.

We both moan into skin as he pushes into me to the hilt and his cock begins to throb repeatedly, his cum filling my insides with a further warmth. We hold onto each other tight as if letting go may kill us. His lips and tongue lap at the sensitive flesh of my skin he'd accidentally bitten into. I didn't even notice.

We pull away after a while, groaning as his softening cock slips out of me, the cold water encasing it yet again. He looks at my neck with concern and makes a face at the teeth marks and the light amount of blood that's thinned due to the water, the colour appearing more of deep orange than a red in the moonlight. His lips are redder with my blood and I get the desire to kiss it away.

"You're bleeding," he whispers, a slight voice crack. He cups some water in his hands and splashes it against the marks. "I'm sorry."

I lean up and kiss him, my desire given into, to tell him it's okay. A slight metallic taste remains. We smile at one another for a moment before breaking down into a giggle. "Your lips are so purple!" He laughs as he takes my hand in his. "Let's get out before we freeze to death."

[cicimunson]

Ruin Me Part 2

Series Summary: Eddie is obsessed with you, but tries to hide it because he knows you’re a virgin and he doesn’t want to corrupt you or risk your friendship.

Chapter Summary: Eddie's been avoiding you and you call him out. He is quick to remedy the situation.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Virgin Female Reader

Warnings: EDDIE RIDES OUR THIGH LOVES. Little bit of angst in the beginning, sexual situations.

Word Count: Almost 2k

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

It'd been a few days since you'd hung out with Eddie. You saw him in class and at lunch, but other than that, he’d barely spoken to you. You could tell he was avoiding you.

Maybe you'd come on too strongly the other day. Eddie had licked and sucked your tits until your nipples were practically chafed, jerking himself off until he came all over his hand.

He wouldn't let you look at the mess. He didn't even kiss you afterwards, although you'd been writhing from his touch, practically begging him to meet your lips with his own. He'd cleaned himself up and apologized several times.

"I'm sorry. I took it too far. I feel terrible."

He held you close, whispering apologies over and over while kissing your cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

"Eddie, it's okay. I promise there's nothing to feel bad about. I liked it."

"You're so sweet, you don't deserve this. I'm the devil."

He ushered you back out the door, looking guilty and remorseful despite you insisting it was fine. He didn't even say bye, just murmured he was sorry once more before shutting the door in your face.

You knew that the two of you had crossed a line you couldn't come back from. Not that you wanted to. Sure, you were a virgin. And yeah, calling you innocent was pretty accurate. But something about Eddie made you want to change all that. You knew he felt the same. It was just getting the scales to tip in your favor at this point.

You catch up with him in the parking lot after school. "Munson, wait up!"

He turns to you, his expression unreadable. "Oh, hey." He greets you half-heartedly.

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Studying for O'Donnell's final?"

"Oh, yeah, shit, I forgot. I kinda have plans."

He made plans. He forgot about you. That fucking hurts.

"Wow. Okay, then." You turn to walk away.

"Don't be mad." He pleads

"It's fine, Eddie. I get it. I'll leave you alone."

 He sighs. "Come on, Y/N, it's not like that."

"You haven't spoken to me in almost three days. And now you're blowing me off. It is like that. But it's cool. No worries"

He grabs your shoulder and turns you to face him.

"Y/N, I feel guilty as shit for what happened the other day. I shouldn't have touched you like that, shouldn't have made you watch me. I just…I know if I'm alone with you it's gonna happen again and maybe go further than it needs to."

"You didn't make me do anything, Eddie. I could have walked out anytime. I chose to stay."

"Because I'm corrupting you."

"No, because I'm tired of being treated like a little girl by everyone. Because you make me feel things I haven't felt before. Because I liked what I saw you doing. It's not about you and what you do, Eddie. It's about me and what I want. I'm my own person and I can make my own decisions."

He sighs, running a thumb over your bottom lip. "And what do you want, sweetheart? You don't even know what you're asking for."

"So teach me. Better you than some jock or someone from your club, right?"

His eyes narrow. "I would kill anyone that tried."

"I'm not going to stay your sweet Y/N forever, Eddie." You lick the pad of his thumb that's gliding over your lip.

Eddie's breath hitches.

You swirl your tongue around his finger.

He moans softly and pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it and he pulls you close.

"What are you doing to me, Y/N?" He murmurs into your hair. "My resolve is hanging by a thread."

You whimper around his finger and he groans, knowing he can't keep fighting the urge to make you his.

He removes his thumb from your mouth and replaces it with his tongue. You tug on the lapels of his jacket, wanting him closer, wanting to feel him pressed against you.

He breaks away from the kiss after a minute or two. "As much as I'd love to keep going, we should probably get off school property."

You giggle. "Oh yeah, probably."

"Can I give you a ride home?"

"Mhm, thank you."

You and Eddie climb into his van and head down the road. You watch as he drums on the steering wheel, singing under his breath to the Black Sabbath song blaring from the speakers.

Feeling bold, you reach out and take one of his hands, pressing a small kiss to his knuckles before laying it on your lap. Eddie squeezes your bare thigh, his thumb slipping underneath your skirt to trace circles on your skin.

Your shiver and he grins, glancing over at you. "You okay?"

"Mhm. I'm fine."

He lets his hand wander a little higher. "Are you sure?"

You squirm under his touch. His hand is warm and his cool rings are a nice contrast to the heat. You clench your thighs together.

Eddie smirks knowingly.

"So needy. So cute." He murmurs to himself as he pulls up in front of your house.

"No one's home if you want to come in." You try to sound nonchalant.

He raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Mhm. We could get a snack or something before you have to attend to your other plans."

"Oh, I didn't tell you? Those plans got canceled."

You giggle. "On the car ride over here?"

"Yup. They sent a smoke signal, you probably didn't see it." He deadpans with a wink.

You play along. "Oh, makes sense."

Once inside, you offer Eddie a coke and some pretzels. He guzzles it down, soda running from the corner of his lips. You wipe it away with your thumb and then stick your thumb in your mouth.

Eddie watches you, fascinated. Everything you did lately seemed sexual to him. The way you giggled, the skirts you wore around him, the way you looked at his mouth when he talked.

To his surprise, you take a step towards him and brush your lips against his. He kisses you back softly and carefully, oh so damn carefully, struggling with the urge to grab the back of your head and slide his tongue in your mouth.

Your hands slip underneath his shirt and he groans. "You're so sweet, baby. So damn sweet."

"I'm not sure how to touch you." You admit. "I wanna learn, though."

"Do you ever touch yourself?"

You look down, clearly flustered.

"Tell me. Do you ever rub yourself?"

Just tell him. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.

"I have before, yes."

"How did it make you feel?"

You still can't meet his eyes. "Really good." You admit.

He lifts your chin. "Did you think of me?"

You squirm under his gaze.

"Answer me."

You know there's no point in lying, Eddie can read you like a book. "Yes. I've thought of you while doing it."

He smiles, looking almost smug. You can see the lust in his eyes.

"Eddie?"

He takes a step back and lifts you on the kitchen table.

"Show me what you do."

"What?"

"When you touch yourself. Show me how you do it."

You blush. "Eddie-"

He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of your thigh, then another one a little higher. He pushes your skirt up as he goes, until he's kissing your hip bones and your skirt is hiked all the way up.

You moan softly and run your finger through his hair.

He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. "Can I take them off you?"

You nod and lift your ass so that he can pull them down. He sticks them in his jeans pocket before kissing down your leg and back up the other one, pushing them apart.

You realize your pussy is on full display for him.

He kisses right above your pubic bone and you gasp. He takes your hand and guides it between your legs.

"Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me."

You can't resist him. You both know it. You start moving your fingers in slow circles on your clit.

"Feel good, angel?"

"Mhm." You rub a little faster and moan softly.

"Do you put fingers in yourself?"

You nod.

"Let me see."

You groan as you ease a finger into your pussy. You're wet, wetter than usual, and you know it's because he's watching you.

His intense gaze is fastened between your legs, his tongue flicking put to lick his lips.

"Can you add another finger, sweetheart?"

You push another finger inside you and moan his name.

Eddie's eyes snap up to your face.

"Say it again. Say my name."

"Eddie."

"Again."

"Eddie."

He pulls you closer to the edge of the table. "Keep doing that. Keep touching yourself."

"Do you want to touch yourself, too?" 

"I'm gonna do something else."

He places a leg on either side of your thigh and rubs against you.

You'd heard about thigh-riding before. Nancy had talked about riding Steve's thigh before she gave him her virginity. You didn't realize it was something boys could do, too.

Eddie grunts as he grinds down on you, the zipper of his jeans digging into your skin. You secretly hope it leaves a mark. Branding you as his.

Eddie watches your fingers move faster, listens to the sound of your pussy getting wetter and your breathing speeding up.

He wants more than anything to replace your fingers with his cock, but he knows it's too soon. It's something that needs to be worked up to.

He can't take his eyes off you as he shamelessly ruts against your thigh. He had told himself he wasn't going to worry about getting off, that he'd be content to jerking off at home picturing this moment, but he couldn't hold back. He needed to come with you.

"I'm so close." You moan, your fingers moving frantically. "Eddie, I'm gonna…"

"That's right, sweet girl. Come for me. You can do it."

You cry out his name as your whole body tightens. The orgasms you'd had before were nothing compared to this. It slams into your body so fast your vision goes spotty. Your cunt spasms around your fingers and you fall back on the kitchen table, still working your fingers furiously because the sight of the man falling apart while he grinds into you makes you want to keep going, to keep cumming.

Eddie feels his cock twitch and he knows he's close. He snatches your hand from between your legs and sucks on your fingers, the taste of your pussy sending him over the edge.

Rather than cum in his boxers, he lets open his fly and shoots his load on your leg.

You gasp when the hot liquid hits your skin. 

Eddie lays on your stomach, gasping.

You reach down and touch your thigh, bringing your fingers up to examine them.

Eddie's eyes nearly bulge out of his head when you lick them.

"Jesus Christ." He presses his forehead to yours. "I say I'm your damnation, but I'm starting to think you might be mine."

You kiss him softly. "I guess we'll be damned together."