#So i WAS right when i identified at the fucking start of the series that they should break up

[bonefall]

Divorce was right around the corner...

Team of writers that thought it was romantic when Clear Sky was attracted to Star Flower because of traits he was grooming into his child: "The emotionally unstable boy who is unable to reflect on his own behavior and makes impulsive decisions is the best version of himself with an enabler who has a repeated problem with telling people no."

#Writers what the FUCK do you think is normal??? #MISS HUNTER..... #So i WAS right when i identified at the fucking start of the series that they should break up #WAIT. #fuCK... DOES THIS MEAN THEY CHANGE THEIR PLOTS MID BOOK?????????? #DO THEY REALLY FUCJING WRITE THEM ON THE FLY??? #DO THEY NOT HAVE OUTLINES FOR THE ENTIRE ARC? #OH NO.... OH NONONO #i dont rewrite the arcs until theyre done but please fuck please god i need to find some way to wrench night out of TC #How can i get your rusty butt into riverclan asap

[queers-gambit]

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good

prompt: ( requested ) basking in the sunshine, breathing fresh air, bare skin tickled by tall grass, and Felix, who can't focus on the Half Blood Prince when his girl's got his full blooded attention.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 2.3k+

note: i wrote this in an hour 'cause, you know, brainrot.

warnings: slight request variation (you'll see), there's probably cursing. anyways, suggestive language, no real spoilers, slight Ollie slander, college kids doing drugs, and no HP spoilers for those who haven't read.

All you could smell was his expensive cologne, barely breaking a sweat under the summer sun as he remained wrapped around you like a child did their mother on the first day of school. You were never one for suffocating affection nor clingy behavior, something leftover from childhood, but with your boyfriend, you craved it; and he knew it. He took advantage of it.

"Are you even listening or are you too busy trying to identify the smell of my shampoo?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah, 'M listenin', love, uh, you know, something about... Harry doing something stupid, yeah?"

You snorted lightly, head tilting back to look up at your boyfriend's amused expression. "A lucky guess - 'cause Harry's always doing some dumb shit."

"Yeah, you know, there's a reason he wasn't considered for Ravenclaw."

"Don't be mean, we all have our strengths and weaknesses," you gently reprimanded. "So he's not the smartest guy ever, but he's brave as hell, isn't he?"

"Has to be, being a Gryffindor and all."

"I doubt we would've done half this shit at 16."

"Totally right, we had other worries - like our first pregnancy scare."

"Felix!"

"What, doll face? Huh? C'mon, what's the quote? I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!"

"Oh, you absolute cheesy fuck!"

His laugh could've echoed across the field, the two of you laid out on an oversized blanket; crushing the long grass surrounding his home, Saltburn. 'Home' always felt so mundane when describing the freaking castle his family inhabited; after all, his father, Sir James, was literally knighted - making the Cattons feel larger than life. You'd known the family for over a decade now, meeting Venetia on your first day of school when a rude boy smacked your lunch tray right out of your hands, being inducted to their family almost straight away.

As it turned out, your mother and father were friendly with Sir James and his wife, Elspeth Catton, and after only a month in your new town, you were invited to Saltburn for a family meal.

It became a monthly occurrence.

And when you started dating Felix when you were both 15, it was like life was simply alining with the stars. Destiny being fulfilled. Fate smiling on you both.

Your parents tried to play off the relationship, but after you turned 16, they realized how serious you two seemed about each other. And when you both decided to attend Oxford together (rejecting your father's alma mater, the University of Edinburgh), your mother made constant jibes about your wedding. At first, it was just a few, little, sometimes funny, but mostly harmless comments here and there, and then it escalated to full-on conversations between your mothers.

Like they had flowers and color scheme picked out, deciding on hosting at Saltburn, even debating wedding dress ideas! Your mother wanted something lacy, Elspeth wanted something form fitting and "sexy" - being where their opinions clashed and the conversation elevated to near arguments.

Anyways, laying on the blanket in the field, alone, became a regular occurrence for you and Felix once you realized the absolute HOLD the Harry Potter series had on you both. Where the brother and sister had matching HP star tattoos on their hands, that had convinced you to get a set of three stars - your only tattoo, nestled behind your left ear. Venetia technically got you into the series, letting you borrow the first book, and then gifting you each book once published; but it was more like a "tradition" to read them with Felix.

See, when you were younger, you had a stutter that made you wildly insecure, but reading out loud helped you work through it. Was it a perfect system? Of course not, but your boyfriend was adamant that it'd help - and eventually, it did. So much so, you received top marks in each of your public speaking or debate classes, something the Catton's still praised you over.

Felix liked listening, and the times you got a little tongue-tied and frustrated, he would take over to let you a small reprieve. Today was no different, laid in the field, the grass tickling your bare feet and calves as the sun soaked into your bare skin. Either of you only wore a pair of sunglasses, Felix sat up on his elbow to support your body laid against his; his fingers dancing light patterns over whatever body part he could reach. Currently, it was your hip.

He laid quick kisses where he could, whispered sweet nothings in your ear, used his teeth to nibble your flesh. Anything to make you trip over your words, like the little shit he was.

You felt your breathing shift when Felix's lips and tongue ghosted up your neck, sweeping stray strands of hair from your shoulder before his fingertips were ghosting over your collarbone and down your chest to tweak your nipple. The cold of his bracelets and watch on your sticky skin felt like a drastic contrast to the warmth of the day.

"You're infuriating, I'm trying to read," you scolded, swatting his hand away; but smirking in amusement that assured him you weren't truly annoyed.

"Roll over, sweetheart, I needa rest my arm," he muttered in your ear, licking the shell - making you squirm with a small giggle.

"Can you behave? For once?"

"How can I? When you look like this? I mean, Goddamn, I really got the prettiest girl, don't I?" He smirked, watching you lift off his chest to roll onto your stomach; perched on your elbows. "Now, that's a sight, might be my favorite," he grinned, bringing his hand down to smack one of your arse cheeks - palming the flesh tightly, giving a jiggle for his amusement.

"Felix!" You squealed, fully anticipating this treatment; trying to hide your full-teeth grin.

"C'mon, love, let's get a bit naughty," he teased. "Oliver doesn't get here for another two days, we're not gonna be alone much longer."

You scoffed lightly, "You're the one who had to befriend The Clinger."

"Oi, c'mon now, tellin' me t'be nice about Harry? Don't call him that, love, he's just a lonely chap. Needs a friend."

You hummed, readjusting the book under you. "He's a bit creepy, Fi," you admit. "I mean, he stares - like a lot. And remember I told you, I saw him looking through your dorm window that one night?"

He sighed, "He was just drunk, love, we've been over this."

"You're so quick to excuse him," you noted, offering him a bewildered look as he readjusted to lean over your back. His head nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting a hand pet down the slope of your spine; forcing a small tremor through your muscles.

"He's got no one else."

"Doesn't mean he needs you, my sweet boy. Honestly, you stretch yourself too thin. Maybe if you focused less on these so-called friends and more on your studies...?"

"I appreciate the worry, babygirl," he mused, laying three kisses to your shoulders, "but it's all right, got you quizzing me nightly. Swear, you know my coursework better than I do. And besides, you're the one who says there's no such thing as too many friends."

"Hm," you let your eyes roll slightly, "I was obviously high when I said that and probably didn't mean bloody Oliver."

"Speaking of," he grinned, reaching for the rucksack he brought with you; now hosting your clothes, but also carrying the Altoid tin he used to store pre-rolled joints.

"Are you even listening to the story anymore, baby?"

"Of course I am, toots, I can multi-task." You hummed in response, waiting for him to finish lighting up before continuing onto a new paragraph; feeling him shift on your back. But you faltered when smoke blew against your cheek, Felix's lips descending a moment later to noisily smooch your skin. "You're so fucking pretty," he mumbled.

"I think you have ADHD."

"We knew that."

"Maybe you need something for that."

"Because I'm not listening to Harry Potter?"

"I knew it!" You laughed, shivering again when his free hand drew up your spine to nestle in your hair; handing you the joint with the other. "Fi, you're still distracting me," you moaned slightly, leaning your head back into his touch - contradicting your own words.

"You're doin' great, love," he grinned, licking the skin behind your ear, at your tattoo. "Keep goin', c'mon, I wanna hear what happens next."

"You're gonna reread this chapter when I go to bed, aren't you?"

Felix paused, "Maybe."

You grunted, dropping your head to the book before lifting it again and taking an inhale from the joint. Felix grinned at you in mischief, rolling over onto his back; hand behind his head as he stared up at you. You shook your head at him, handing the joint over before shuffling so you were laid on his chest with the book spread open in one hand.

"Love?" He mumbled.

"Hmm?" You glanced at him.

"Maybe... Uh, yeah, maybe start the chapter over? I'm a bit lost," he snickered, coughing when you tisked at him and offered a slightly annoyed look. "C'mon, baby, you can't tell me you were totally focused, either! You love me touching you, I can see it on your face."

To prove his point, the arm he had wrapped around you drifted to, once more, take a handful of your ample bottom - causing you to gasp slightly.

But you pouted, "I kinda want to finish this chapter, baby."

"And I'm distracting you?"

"Obviously."

Felix laughed, "Spot on Professor Snape, baby."

"If I read like Snape the rest of the chapter, will you pay attention to me?"

"You know what? I don't know, that voice is kinda a turn on... Everything you do is a turn on, doll."

"You'd think the consistent fucking we do would rein in your hormones."

"Nah," he tutted, squeezing his hand, "not when I got a girl like you, gettin' me all riled up. I mean, Half-Blood Prince, who? Got me full blooded, right here." You chuckled when he glanced at his cock, folding the book closed and deflating onto his chest and accepting the joint again. "Oh, c'mon, don't stop, 's just gettin' good!"

"You were calling Harry stupid literally 5 minutes ago."

"Come off it, when isn't he?"

"When he's fighting Voldemort?"

"Hm," he considered, tucking his hand into your hair to massage your scalp; gently pulling through your hair. "You might have a point."

"And now Dumbledore's - "

"Hey, hey, no spoilers!"

"It's not a spoiler if you were listening to me!"

"I'm always listening," he whined, you blowing smoke across his abdomen; watching his abs contract from the slight tickle; his cock bobbing from the movement and making you flush with heat not from the sun. "You're just so much more interesting, hmm?" He mumbled.

"Hey, hey. Flattery gets you everywhere with me," you teased, loving the easiness of his smile. "C'mon, pretty boy, your turn."

He took the joint from you, watching you try to pull back - but tightening his arm. "Stay here, love havin' you close," he mumbled, placing the joint to his mouth and reaching for the book again. Not wanting his arm to retract from your form, you reached up to take the joint from him; listening as he went back to the beginning of the chapter while your leg hiked up his hips.

Every other puff, you fed Felix the joint until there was nothing left; wee small roach being stubbed out in the dirt, leaving you two relaxed, high, and laid over one another as he continued to lazily read. But his hand still traced invisible patterns over your skin, the warmth of the sun making you sweat, but the way your boyfriend touched you made you shiver.

He knew you loved it, yet didn't so much as stutter on a single word when his smirk would grow feeling your reactions to his touches.

At the end of the chapter, he glanced down at you and let his lips follow; tightening his arm to bring you in closer, leaving repeated kisses on your forehead. You squirmed closer, giggling and bringing your hand up to hook around the back of his neck, directing him to your lips as he rolled over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. "You're distracting me, now, li'l minx," he teased.

"Oh, how unfair, what ever shall you do?"

He chuckled, pecking your lips twice more, then asking, "Another chapter or...?"

"Yes, one more chapter," you laughed, "but then we're gonna have to head back up, your mum wanted my help with something."

"Oh, she's got you some new dresses she wants you to try," he relaid.

"I thought she stopped doin' that?"

"She loves spoiling you," Felix eased. "And Venetia stopped letting Mum dress her, so, you know... Here, you read this one."

You agreed, letting him readjust so he was sat up again, keeping you between his spread legs so he could peer down at the book from over your shoulder. Was it distracting, feeling his fully blooded cock at your back? Absolutely. Was it mildly erotic for you to ignore it and continue reading - as if his warmth wasn't making you wet? Also, yes.

"Fi," you whispered when his lips danced across your shoulder. "Distracting me, again," you half-scolded.

"You're doin' great, love," he chuckled.

But he didn't stop, it was like he was turning himself on (more) by his soft, gentle touches; and being spurred onward when he noted the way your chest heaved when your breath changed.

"Keep goin'," he whispered in your ear, dragging his hands up to cup either bare breast and swipe his thumbs around your nipples to stiffen them into peaks.

"Felix - "

"Don't stop," he encouraged, "'s real endearing the way you're tryna fight this."

"You try to get between me and Potter one more time, we're going on a sex strike."

There was a pause as you looked up at him, both sharing growing grins before bursting into echoing laughter that Venetia heard from one of the loungers close to the house. She grinned to herself, turning the page of her own Half-Blood Prince book.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

#felix catton #felix catton imagine #felix catton fluff #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton x fem! reader #felix catton x you #fix it felix #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn felix #saltburn felix catton #saltburn imagine #jacob elordi

[bestworstcase]

What do you mean by Tai favors Ruby?

i mean that he favors ruby

to be more specific, yang has been co-parenting her two-years-younger sister with her dad since she was about five, when tai evidently left them home alone on a regular basis. now i’m not in the camp that tai did not do any parenting at all or that yang raised ruby completely by herself—i don’t think the text supports that:

ruby clearly does see tai as her dad, and relates to him that way

“ugh, you sound like dad!” in particular illustrates both ruby’s fairly normal parent-child relationship with tai and yang’s quasi-parental role in her life

both yang (per the text) and tai (in the animated fairytale series) read bedtime stories, although ruby’s recollection suggests that it was yang reading to her more often than tai reading to both of them

—but i do think it’s clear that tai leaned on yang a lot more than he should have. yang remembers him “shutting down” after summer left and that she had to be the one to “pick up the pieces,” ruby expressly thinks of yang as the one who raised her, there’s literally a scene in ice queendom where tai and yang talk about parenting ruby. like:

TAI: It’s gonna be a lot harder to go out as a family after you’re gone. YANG: I really hope Ruby will be okay without me around. She tends to get caught up in her own little world sometimes, you know? TAI: A little independence will do her good! I love that you two support each other, but she can’t rely on you for everything, you know? YANG: I know, I know, you’re right, Dad.

<- that’s not a parent-child conversation.

innately when you have a dynamic where the elder sibling is co-parenting the younger, the younger sibling is being favored. that comes with the territory.

but there’s also the additional factor of both ruby and yang being so strongly identified with their mothers—to the point that their individuality is elided—and summer being up on this pedestal as both the Perfect Huntress and the Good Mother in contrast to raven being the skeleton in the family closet until yang reached legal adulthood. and then when tai finally does start talking about raven, he more or less presents raven to yang as a cautionary tale: i see so much of her in you and that’s great but watch out because her flaws tore our team and family apart.

it’s never said in so many words but that level of comparison and identification with their mothers, when one is the Noble Heroic Paragon and the other is a Complicated Woman Who Ruined Our Family… that. uh. to put it gently, that will trickle down into the treatment of the children.

and between how tai treats yang in v4 and ruby’s summer-identity-crisis in v9, it’s pretty fucking clear that both girls felt that in different ways—ruby’s whole sense of self is fucked because she can’t separate herself from the Idea of Summer Rose, whereas tai is really harshly critical of yang specifically because he projects his ideas about raven onto her, to the point that yang feels the need to go “sorry i remind you of her.”

it goes without saying that none of this was good for ruby either—it just hurt her in different, more insidious ways. but there’s like. this pattern. of yang being given adultlike responsibilities way too young and being held to harsher standards because tai can’t or won’t separate her from raven

[sacredmads]

relief > worry

in the law of assumption, one of the most common causes of 'failure' is thinking that there's something that you will do that will prohibit you from receiving your desire. people focus so much time and energy into what can go wrong, what they're doing wrong, why they haven't gotten their desire yet, and spiral themselves into a big circle of lack and worry.

i want to remind all of you that there is NOTHING IN THIS FUCKING WORLD THAT WILL RUIN YOUR MANIFESTATION. N O T H I N G.

not you, not the universe, NOTHING.

your desires are destined for you. there is absolutely nothing that can stop them from coming to you. everything you want is coming to you RIGHT NOW. as soon as you plant the seed for movement it starts happening.

as soon as you say the first affirmation, you visualize once, even the moment you decide you even want something, movement starts. stop worrying so much about the how, the when, the why, the what-ifs. stop trying to put logic into the law of assumption.

the law is a LAW. it is going to work for you no matter what - SO LET IT!

stop creating useless blocks for your desires just because you're afraid of how simple the law is. all you have to do is know that what you want is coming, and live as if.

that's. it. that is all that is required of you.

the more energy and focus you put into doubtful thoughts, what you could be doing wrong, the 3d, the more power you're giving those things.

thoughts are just thoughts. you can either chose to identify with them, or let them pass. so if you get a passing thought that contradicts what you're trying to manifest, let it pass. it's just a thought. it's not going to do anything unless you decide it will. so decide it doesn't, and only chose to identify with thoughts that serve you.

there is always movement in the 3d. always. for all you know, there could be a series of events happening right now in this very moment as you're reading this that are going to bring your desire to you. all you have to do is let it happen. let what you want flow to you. be abundant in your success. stop resisting it.

feel RELIEF in knowing it is done! you don't have to affirm on a loop for 30 minutes each day, you don't need to visualize for an hour, you don't need to script... IT'S DONE! all you need to do is know it's coming to you and stay focused in the end.

all of your desires are coming to you RIGHT NOW.

-sacred ♡

#law of assumption #affirmations #self concept #neville goddard #manifestation #law of attraction #law of assuming #manifesting

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #1.5

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #1.5: because you look so fine

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.5k

Summary: set in the middle of deleted scene #1 (after Joel & Ellie come home but before you move in with them). Joel's acting weird lately.

Warnings: established relationship, technically spoilers for tlou pt 2 but no one goes golfing, poor communication, p in v, two idiots at the end of the world, fluff, tooth-rotting over the top fluff in the only way two assholes know how, oral (m&f receiving), brief Tommy & Maria cameos, a few butt slaps, good ole southern hospitality, when i started this i meant for joel to play guitar but sadly he does not.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel’s been a little weird lately. In a very Joel way.

Or maybe not. You’re not really sure what to think of it.

Ever since that first day when he walked you home from dinner, and you didn’t invite him in, he’s been… awkward.

Or maybe he hasn’t. You don’t really know Joel. It’s a startling realization you had after he left that night.

You lived with him for six months and traveled the country with him, but neither of those were very good representations of him. When you shared the apartment, you only saw him to fuck. You didn’t hang out shooting the shit or have riveting conversations about current events over breakfast.

When you were out of the QZ with him and Tess, there was no talking. Not a single unnecessary word. He and Tess communicated silently. You were on a need-to-know basis and never had a need-to-know.

And those months traveling with Ellie? Well, you’d learned a little more about him, but also, he was under such intense stress that you’re not sure how much was Joel and how much was the situation.

He’s been a lot nicer since he got back to Jackson. Well. Maybe nicer isn’t the right word.

He’s been more talkative and smiled more. Most of the time, when he opens his mouth, though, it’s to be a sarcastic ass.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

And, okay, maybe you do know him.

You decide maybe you’re the one being weird, so you let it go until the weirdness intensifies one Friday night.

Tommy had you both cornered at the mess on Thursday. “So y’all are coming to the Bison tomorrow, right? Ernie came back with a couple of guitars to try to round out the act.”

Joel perks up at this, and you watch him carefully. He’s never seemed interested in whatever goes on at the pub. “They work?”

“They need some love,” Tommy says. “Reckon you might be able to fix ‘em up?”

“Shit,” Joel says, the curse drawn out and low as he thinks. “I might. He gonna let me come ‘n take a look at ‘em?”

“You could probably swing by tonight; see if any of ‘em can be saved.”

Joel eyes your empty plate. “C’mon, I’ll walk ya home first.”

“The Bison is closer than my house,” you say, utterly perplexed by the way this conversation has gone. “I can walk myself.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll come back after.”

You think it’s kind of silly but he’s insisted on walking you home every day. Every day that you don’t end up in his bed, anyway.

Every time, he holds your hand. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you let the warm summer silence lead you.

He always kisses you goodnight. Never as chaste as the first time, but never letting it get out of hand, either. He doesn’t ask to come in. He doesn’t try to start anything.

He’s respecting your boundaries, you think, and it’s kind of weird. But good weird.

Tonight, he lingers with his arms draped loose around your hips, holding you close there but letting you lean your upper body back against the siding. He’s got a look on his face that you can’t identify.

After a moment, he narrows his eyes and jostles you a little with one arm. “Gonna come with me to the Bison tomorrow?”

“Since when do you go to Friday Night Live?” you tease.

He scowls. “Since tomorrow.”

“You can’t say since tomorrow; that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I just said it, didn’t I?” His face twists into something you do recognize.

“Hey,” you pout. “Why’re you mad?”

“M’not mad. Will you stop teasin’ me and answer the question?”

You’re so lost it’s not funny. But now you recognize the first expression. He was defensive.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be a dick. Sure, Joel, if you’re goin’, I’ll come out and see what the fuss is.”

“Don’t gotta try to be something you just are,” he says. There’s a hint of a smirk lurking.

You bite down a smile, rolling your eyes.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He leans down to kiss you.

“Whoa, mister. You already got a goodnight kiss. Getting greedy?”

He bites at your lip. “Hush,” he scolds, helping himself to several kisses. “That one expired. Gotta make it up to me.”

You’re grinning stupidly, now, but so is he. “Alright, you big baby. One more.”

But he stands up straighter and kisses your forehead instead. “G’night,” he murmurs.

As always, he waits until you’re inside with the door locked before he leaves.

You lie awake for too long, tucked in and cozy, but kept up by the colony of butterflies that he seems to have let loose with all that kissing.

You’re getting ready to head down to the Bison when there’s a knock at your door. You’re trying not to think about how weirdly nervous you feel.

It’s probably just from the thought of the crowd. There’s a reason you haven’t bothered to check out the bar. Small spaces and big crowds aren’t your idea of a good time.

Maybe they were, once. You don’t really remember anymore. Now, they remind you of the hangings back in Boston.

And that’s a train of thought you’d like to derail, so the knock is a nice distraction.

When you open the door, it’s Joel.

“Oh, hey. Thought I was meeting you downtown.”

“Figured I’d walk with ya,” he says. The words are almost mumbled, and he stands stiff just outside the door.

“Alright, gimmie a few, I was just gonna change.”

“Y’ain’t gotta do that, you look nice,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “Thanks?” And you gesture to where a pot of tomato soup had spilled down the side of your tee and then splattered across the bottom of your jeans when it hit the floor.

“Right,” he says.

“You can come in,” you say before heading up to your room.

You spend more time than you’d like picking something to wear. It’s those damn crowds, maybe, making you feel like you need to look nice.

In the end, though, you just pull on a clean tee and jeans with a flannel you’d nicked from Joel when you were out on the road. He hadn’t said anything about it so you figured he never even noticed. It helps, fortifying you against whatever’s making your heart beat out of your chest.

When you get back down, he’s standing in your kitchen. You stare, trying to force your brain to reboot and accept the image of him looming in your space.

He’s got a glass of water in one hand and the other wrapped tight over the edge of the basin.

“You okay?” you say.

He clears his throat and turns around. “Yeah, just needed this,” he gestures with the drink. “For, uh, for these.”

You blink a few times. There are flowers clutched in his other hand, stems trimmed to fit neatly inside.

“Okay,” you say with a shrug.

He sets the glass, now full of purple and yellow blossoms, on the counter.

“We better get going before Tommy sends a search party,” you tease, grabbing him by the belt loops. He lets you pull yourself in, leaning up for a kiss.

It’s syrupy, and his hands come to your waist so he can lick into your mouth, drawing soft moans from you both.

“There’s the hello I was lookin’ for,” he says. He looks you up and down. “Y’look real pretty, sweetheart.”

“You need your eyes checked, old man.” You move to the door, and he follows, waiting while you stuff your feet into your boots without bothering to untie them.

“Sure, let me just call the optometrist,” he rolls his eyes. “You know I like you in my clothes.” He’s patient while you lock the door, but as soon as your key is stowed in your pocket, he’s got your hands wrapped together.

It’s not until you’re sitting in the bar at a round table with Tommy and Maria that the gears finally come to a stop, and everything falls into place.

Joel’s dragged his chair to butt up against yours, and he’s got an arm slung around your shoulder. You’re leaning against him, talking to Maria about the equipment one of the patrol teams had found at an abandoned farm when your brain shorts out.

Of course, you don’t even get a second to process the thought before it spills from your mouth.

“Joel Miller,” you snap, sitting up and looking at him incredulously. “Is this a date?”

He pulls back a little, eyes wide and brows raised. “Yeah,” he says slowly, like he’s not the one that tricked you into this.

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I…” he looks wildly at Tommy and then back to you. “I thought you knew.”

“Let’s go get some drinks,” Maria says quietly. Her husband doesn’t get the hint, and she has to hiss in his ear about privacy before yanking him away from the table.

“You thought I knew? How would I have known?”

“I’ve been courtin’ ya for weeks,” he says, scowling. “Didn’t think I needed to spell it out for ya.”

“You’ve been what?”

He flushes a little but stands his ground. “Courtin’ ya. Y’know.”

“What are you talking abo—oh. Oh.” A lot of things are starting to make more sense. The flowers. The hand holding. The sweet partings. The way he pulls out your chair at the table.

“What the hell are you doin’ that for?”

He huffs a breath, arms folding across his chest. “Well, never mind.”

You take a deep breath, but it catches, stuttering in the suddenly humid room. “Can we talk about this outside?”

He must see it on your face because he puts a worried hand on your shoulder to steer you through the crowd.

Once in the open, soothed by the slightly cooler breeze, you cover your face with both hands.

“Joel,” you start.

“I was just tryin’ to do right by you this time around,” he tells the patch of grass under his boots.

You can’t help but smile just a little bit. “That’s sweet, but I don’t need you to do all that.”

He looks up at you, mouth still twisted down. But you see it for what it is again. Worry.

“You don’t have to try so hard, Joel; you already know I’m a sure thing.”

“I’m not just tryin’ to fuck you,” he snaps. His hands are clenched into fists, and he won’t look at you now. “I’m tryin’ to… I’m tryin’ to show you—”

You step closer, and he doesn’t shy away, but he does shut his mouth. You wrap your fingers back around his belt loops. “I know,” you say. “But I don’t need all that. I just need you. Just you.”

“I’m no good at this,” he grumbles.

“At what?”

“At… this,” he puts his hands on your hips. “At bein’… at relationships,” he finishes. His ears are red. “Never was.”

“Me neither,” you say. “But I’ve only had the one back before. You coulda lied and pretended to be a pro, and I’d never have known.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses the top of your head. “Just, are you… do you want to be—“

“Joel Miller, are you asking me to go steady?” you grin a little wickedly. “You wanna be my boyfriend? My boo? My beau?”

“Christ,” he says, wiping a hand down his face and groaning. He takes your hand and tugs, heading down the street.

You let him pull you along, still giggling and throwing everything you can think of at him as he weaves through the streets.

“You gonna call me shawty? Gonna make me your girl?”

He stops, and you run smack into him. “Yeah,” he says.

“What?” You hadn’t even realized you’d made it to his house, but he crowds you against it just to the side of the door. “You wanna call me shawty?” You can’t say you expected that.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna make you my girl,” he says. His voice is low, with his head tucked close enough that his breath brushes your ear. One hand is on your hip, and the other is pushing the door open and sliding the key back into his pocket.

Shit, that was smooth.

“What? Ain’t got nothin’ smart to say now?”

You open your mouth, but only a squeak comes out, so you shut it and shake your head.

“Yeah? You wanna be my girl?”

Your throat’s so dry, you think you’d never had water, so you just nod a little, looking up at him through your lashes.

He smirks and kisses you, hands roaming as he walks you backward into the house. When he pushes you down onto the bed, you realize you don’t even remember climbing the stairs.

Or taking off your pants.

He makes quick work of your shirts and bra but then pulls the flannel back on you. You roll your eyes, but it quickly becomes involuntary when he runs a finger across your slit.

“Aw, sweetheart. You’re all wet. Somethin’ got you all worked up?”

But you aren’t so far gone yet that you can’t bite back.

“Yeah, turns out this hot guy has a huge crush on me, but he was too scared to ask me out. A shame, really.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well, I really wanted to suck his dick, but I don’t date chickens.”

“Well, that’s just not very nice. You’re hurtin’ my feelings, sweetheart.”

“Big tough guy like you?”

His fingers brush against your clit for little more than a second before he pulls his hand away. “Yeah, I reckon you’re going to have to make it up to me.”

He stands up straight. “Get to it.”

You grin and bring your hands up to his belt, taking your sweet time to drag the end from the loop and tug it away from the buckle. You flick the prong back just as he growls his impatience.

He tugs it out of the loops and tosses it on the ground as you slip the button loose and drag the pull down the teeth of his zipper one by one.

He grabs your chin, fingers digging dimples into your smug grin. “Think you’re bein’ cute, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to do a good job.”

“Gotta have it in your mouth to do a good job, sweetheart. I taught you how to suck dick better than this.”

He smirks when your eyes darken and you whimper a little at the memory. He lets go of your jaw and shoves two thick fingers in your mouth.

When he pulls them back out, he shows you how wet they are. “You’re fuckin’ droolin’ for it, sweetheart.”

“Uh huh,” you mumble. But your fingers are nimbler, making deft work of the zipper and tugging his pants down.

When his cock springs free, you waste no time swallowing it down. Damn. You had meant to drag it out and tease him.

“See? Ain’t that better?” He strokes your cheek before cupping the back of your head. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You moan and look up at him through your lashes. He groans and pushes you down on his cock until your nose is buried in the thicket of hair at the base.

“Yeah? You feel pretty with my cock in your mouth?” His other hand cups under your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs.

There’s a foreign ache in your chest. You use it to distract you while you choke on him, letting him fill your throat and mind.

He fucks you like that for a few minutes, pulling out abruptly. “Hands ‘n knees, sweetheart.”

You obey immediately, though you settle on your elbows instead, a pillow tucked between your arms and head. He gropes at your ass, squeezing and rubbing his hands over it before he gives it a few firm smacks.

As if he can sense the complaint you’re about to make, he spreads you apart and buries his face in your cunt. You forget all about your impatience—you may still yearn for his cock, but his tongue is a hell of a consolation prize.

He’s fucking ravenous. He nuzzles in—you’re absolutely going to have beard burn—and devours. Two fingers pump in and out of your cunt while he licks around and in, and you can’t really tell where he ends, and you begin. It’s all so wet and rough and blissful that you reach your orgasm in no time at all.

But he pulls away, yanking himself from you with heaving breath while you cry out in disappointment.

“Beg,” he growls, slapping your ass before starting to build you up again.

You do. You beg endlessly, pleas and whines and praise spilling from your lips, broken by gasps and cries, but when you’re close, he pulls away again.

He kisses your swollen labia when you nearly sob in frustration.

“Mean,” you peek over your shoulder at him so he can see your wet eyes and exaggerated pout.

“Yeah,” he smirks. “Just like you were earlier, teasin’ me.”

You gasp. “I made it up to you!”

He scoffs. “Yeah, but ya woulda sucked my cock anyway.”

Damn. He’s not wrong. That was as much for you as it was for him.

He’s stroking your clit gently, now, and you’re having a hard time keeping your brains in a line. Or ducks. Whatever it is, they’re not doing a very good job because you can’t remember what you’re mad about.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what, sweetheart? You need my tongue back?”

“Yes—fuck,” you gasp as he stuffs three fingers in your cunt.

“Hmm. Better apologize.”

“I’m sorry!” you say immediately.

He shakes his head. “Sorry for what?”

“I’m sorry I was teasing you, please, god-fucking—”

He’s sucking on your clit, pistoning his fingers hard enough that it almost matches the way his cock knocks your brain out.

Finally, finally, he doesn’t pull away. When you reach the edge, abdomen seizing, he works you through it and doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering on the other side.

He stands up, and you’d complain, but you’re too fucked out. Plus, he’s fully out of his jeans now, and all you have to do is stay like this, on your knees with your ass in the air.

He fists himself and drags the head up and down, parting you minutely but never slipping in. “Goddamn, you’re drippin’ for me.”

Your face is smushed into the pillow, but your moan is loud enough for him to hear.

“Whose cunt is this, sweetheart?”

“Wha?” you mumble.

He slaps your ass. “I said, whose pretty little cunt is this?”

“Yours, Joel.”

“And whose girl are you?”

You moan. “Yours, Joel.”

“That’s damn right.” He slams hard into you. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Joel. I’m your girl.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” he grunts, thrusting deep on each go, barely pulling out only to slam right in. “And I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

You’re embarrassed about it later when he teases you, but his words make you cum.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, cum on my cock. Just how I like it.”

His hand rubs over your lower back as he talks you through it, and it spills over into another orgasm as you clench and shake around him.

His mouth is filthy tonight, peppered with the grunts and moans you love to soak in. His hands never leave you. Eventually, he stops to roll you over and fucks into you with your knees bent up to your chest. Your fingers dig into his arms desperately as the force of his thrusts knock the air out of you over and over and over.

“Fuck, sweetheart, cup your tits for me,” he pants, pulling out and holding his cock at the base while it weeps, and when you obey, he tugs once, twice, before covering them in his cum.

“Shit,” he says, chest heaving as he catches himself on one arm near your head, hovering over you. “Shit, sweetheart. So good to me.”

He lowers himself onto his side next to you and traces an idle finger through the mess on your chest.

“Did you just fucking write your name in cum on my tits?”

“No,” but he doesn’t tell you what he did write.

He kisses you instead, and you roll your eyes but kiss him back.

You wait until after he’s cleaned you both off and settled back in bed beside you.

“So what’s it gonna be? You gonna call me boo or babe? Or babycakes?”

He rolls his eyes. “Will you knock it off?”

“No,” you admit.

“‘Sides, I ain’t gotta come up with somethin’.”

You pour. “Why not? What if I want a cutesy nickname?”

He rolls onto his side and looks you in the eye. “Already call ya sweetheart, don’t I?”

You flush, heart stuttering. “Oh yeah,” you whisper.

“Good enough for ya?”

“Uh-huh,” you say. “It’s perfect… sweetcheeks.”

His pillow smacks you in the face, and you cackle.

*title from "Are You Gonna Be My Girl" by Jet

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou smut #tlou fic #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance

[l1tw1ck]

Least Valuable Player

He may be the LVP on the court, but at least he's the MVP in your office

Reader has a dick, no pronouns used, is called 'sir' and 'daddy'

Bottom!FTM Steve x Top!Masc!Coach Reader

[Series] [Part Two] AFAB Language Used

CW: Heavy Dub-Con/Non-Con (Up to Interpretation), Slapping, Dom/Sub, Daddy Issues, Dacryphilia, Past & Threatened Abuse, Choking, Manhandling, Spanking, Squirting, Objectification, Rough Sex, Mult. Orgasms, Creampie

📝 1,570 Words

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"Coach-" Steve tries to explain himself, why he cost his team the whole game but you stop him, dragging him into your office. The rest of the team thinks you're going to yell at him so they leave the gym, not wanting to hear it for the sake of Steve's dignity.

You slap him harshly. "Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse! We would've won the game if it weren't for you!"

"I'm sorry, okay! Jesus! I didn't do it on fucking purpose!" He's already annoyed by his teammates treating him badly for the last.

You look at him like he's crazy. "How dare you speak to me like that?"

Steve gasps, realizing what he just said. "I'm sorry- please, sir- I didn't mean it!"

You grip his neck, lifting him in the air so that he's making direct eye contact with you. You spit on his face. "Pathetic little bitch." You pull down his shorts and boxers. "You're gonna be here all night taking my cock, got it?"

Steve manages to choke out a 'Yes sir' in response. This has been a thing for a while, roughly fucking and hurting Steve when he does something wrong or just using his body when you feel like it.

The first time, you were only yelling at him for having his head in the clouds during practice. And then he started to cry, the almighty Steve 'the hair' Harrington was crying and trembling from being yelled at.

"Why the hell are you crying? You can't be this weak."

Steve was shaking and sniffling. "My dad...he used to yell at me like this.."

The sight of him crying made you hard. "You probably deserved it and with the way you've been acting lately, I have no choice but to yell at you." You grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants and your boxers, pulling them both down. "I need to teach you a lesson. Hopefully you'll stop screwing up again after I teach you this."

Steve looked down then up at you. "Sir..?" His stomach twisted, an odd feeling he couldn't identify.

"If you don't want to lose your spot on the team, kneel down and suck it."

Steve didn't say a word sank down to his knees, he held your hot length in his hand and sucked on the tip. It was clear he'd never done it before. You couldn't tell if he was doing it because he wanted to or because he needed that spot on the team.

You're still not sure of the answer yourself.

You take your fingers down to his clit, rubbing it and getting him wet. "I wonder if you even feel bad for making the team lose, did you do it on purpose? So you could get fucked afterwords?"

"I didn't-"

You smack his cunt. "You're lucky you didn't ruin the season for us. Count." You spank his cunt again.

"On- one."

You spank his pussy again, then again, and again.

"Se- seve- seven."

You spank him again and his body seizes up, his eyes rolling back as he squirts over the floor. "You better clean that up later."

"Eig- eight. I will- I promise-"

You spank him two more times before throwing his back onto the desk. "I'm feeling kind today, so these bruises might be the last ones you'll receive today." You trace the light bruise on bis cheek and bring your hand down to the red outlines on his neck.

Steve whimpers as your hand glides down to his collar. You pull on it and rip it apart. Steve's glad he's got a few extras.

"You haven't been missing days, right?" You ask, referring to his contraceptives.

Steve shakes his head. "I'm safe.."

"Good. Even if you're becoming the worst on the team, I still can't have you getting pregnant." You pull your pants and boxers down, hard cock making contact with Steve's wet pussy. "How am I supposed to use you if you're knocked up?" You laugh.

Steve looks down and watches as you push your length inside him, it's the same every time but he always seems to focus on it.

You grip his waist, digging your nails into his skin. "You make such a good cocksleeve, you know that?" You groan, making slow but hard thrusts into him. "You never complain and you're always so fucking tight. The perfect little toy."

Steve only moans softly. Your hand wraps around underneath his neck, just below his chin. "Say thank you."

"Th- thank you, da- daddy hhn~" Steve squeezes your length. You rarely give compliments to him, even if the compliment objectifies him, so you're probably in a good mood. He knows he should do anything he can to stay in your good graces. "I'm so- sorry..for ruin- ruining the gh- gam- game.."

"Do it again and I'll beat you harder than ever." You let go of his neck. If it happens a another time, it'll prevent the team from going to nationals. Steve knows you're not being dramatic.

You flip him onto his stomach and rub his ass. "You still need a few more spankings, can't let you think you can get away with everything." You strike his ass once, then twice before fucking him faster and harder.

Steve fills the office with his wanton whines and moans, crying hard as you have your way with him. His ass turns red after a few more spanks.

"Gon- gonna co- co- come~!" He barely manages to say something coherently. He always gets a little, or a lot, out of his mind when you fuck him. He doesn't know his left from his right.

All he knows is the feeling of your thick cock dragging along his walls, your strong hands grabbing him tightly and hitting him harshly, your voice as you degrade him, his own pleasure, and the warm feeling of you pumping your seed into him.

When he's in this state, it's all that matters. It's beyond easy to get him like this, unaware and acting like a whore in heat, he's completely helpless beneath you.

"That's right, come all over your coach's cock like the whore you are." You spank him again, causing him gasp and squirt over the floor (and a bit of your desk) again. "One of the few things you know how to fucking do right."

Steve's head starts to get fuzzy as you carelessly fuck him through and after his orgasm. He babbles something incomprehensible, something in between 'so good' and 'too much'.

You ignore him, not really caring about anything he says anymore. He's a toy after all, his pleasure isn't your concern. "Close-" You mutter.

Your thrusts never slow or stutter as you reach your peak, staying equally as rough and brutal as you fuck your cum into him. "Mmh- Just take it, bitch."

Steve slobbers onto your cheap chair, eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Ye- yes da- daddy-" He mewls as your nails dig into his ass and your thrusts finally come to a halt.

You take wrap your arms around his torso and bring him close to you, back flush against your chest. Steve instinctively rests his head on your shoulder as your hands grab his thighs and dig into his soft flesh, nails just a few millimeters away from the previous markings they created.

You only wait a few seconds before fucking him again, the sounds coming from his pussy far more obscene than before.

"Touch your pussy for me, doll." You nibble on his ear.

Steve whimpers, taking a few seconds to register the command and earning a sharp slap to his sex as punishment. His hand shakily moves to his clit, rubbing it the best he can. Steve mumbles something. "...mess.."

You make a good guess as to what the full sentence was supposed to be. Likely that he's going to make a bigger mess. "Not my problem. I'm not the one who has to clean it up." You chuckle.

Steve whines. "Sor- sorry-" He makes a high pitched noise as he feels an almost electric feeling surge through his body. It's even more intense than before. His walls spasm around you, almost as if he's trying to vacuum up the cum that's sloshing inside him. He mewls as he squirts for the third time, adding more to the mess he's going to have to clean up tonight or even tomorrow morning.

He's just thankful it's the weekend.

You fuck him in every position possible and in all three of his holes. Against the door, on the chair, on the floor, everywhere. By the end of it, his ass is red, his voice is hoarse, and he's littered with bites. The marks on his neck are much darker and more obvious.

With one final thrust, you spill inside of him for the last time today. You pull out and slap his twitching cunt. "See you on Monday." You drop your school keys on the desk so he can lock up whenever he leaves.

As athletes, your stamina is better than an average person's but with the way you treat Steve during sex, he always ends up spent by the end of it.

You're cruel enough to leave him in the office half conscious and with cum dripping out of him. He won't know his place if you treat him kindly.

He's just your toy, nothing more.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dark content #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x reader #sub steve harrington #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #bottom steve harrington #stranger things x male reader #🕯️steve #🕯️stranger things

[dindjarindiaries]

The Rising Phoenix - Chapter One

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

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pairing ➵ din djarin x fem!oc rating ➵ mature (18+) tags ➵ enemies to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut, strong language, sexual references word count ➵ 3.847k chapter summary ➵ This year's team of Mandalorian recruits embark on their journey to Kyrbej, their home for the next brutal cycle.

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CHAPTER ONE

I tie off my right boot and stand up, facing the reflection of myself in the long piece of reflective transparisteel. The leather of my training gear groans at the movements. I bite my cheek. That will take some getting used to.

Damn. I look disproportionate as hell with my beskar helmet and absolutely no other armor joining it. That will be another thing I’ll have to get used to.

Not that there will be any mirrors for me to see myself at Kyrbej. The training grounds on the other side of Concordia’s surface are known for their practicality, not any type of luxury. Certainly not anything more than what we already have in our stronghold. If I want to look at myself, I’ll have to bring my own shard of reflective transparisteel.

Given Linessa’s warnings about how the next cycle will go, though, I’m fairly sure I won’t want to look at myself, anyway.

I’m only able to heave one more breath before there’s a rapid knocking at my door. “Rhi! Hurry! You’re barely giving me any time to say goodbye!”

I swallow the sudden knot my twin sister’s words tie in my throat and pick up my rucksack. It’s heavy as hell, but given the fact I’ll be living out of it, I’m surprised it’s not even heavier. I slide my door open and Rowyn’s standing there, her emerald helmet adorned with gold embellishments flashing in my gaze as she lunges forward to wrap her arms tight around me.

The rucksack falls to the floor as I hug her back. For the first time since we were younglings, our paths are diverging. It’s the Way, as Mom has reminded me so many times before, as the Ancestors have called us each to our own unique paths.

“I’ll see you soon.” I say the words to Rowyn with confidence, even if there’s a wide-open chasm of uncertainty in my chest. I’ve been preparing for this for years, ever since I slid this beskar over my head. My hand cups the back of her helmet. “You better have a full suit ready for me when I get back.”

Rowyn manages a short laugh at that. “First of all, I’m not in charge of giving you armor.” She pulls away and holds my own emerald helmet between her hands, though I can see the white accents I added to each curve of the beskar reflected in her visor. “Second of all, I’m gonna need more than a cycle to learn how to make a full fucking suit.”

I laugh with her. Our helmets touch, silence sitting between us, before I step away and hold her hands in mine. “Tell the Armorer to go easy on you." I squeeze her hands. “I know how easily you blister.”

“I could say the very same about you.” Rowyn’s thumb runs over my palm. “But I think I’ll have it easier over here than you will over there.”

I scoff. “Have you met the Armorer?”

Rowyn can’t laugh this time. I don’t need to see her face to identify her concern. After years without seeing a single person’s face, it’s easy to spot emotions in other ways, especially the people I know best. “Just be careful, Rhi.”

“I will.” I give her hands another squeeze. “You’ve seen how well I can kick ass.”

Rowyn’s helmet tilts, her substitution for a smile. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I chuckle and sigh, going in for one last hug. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Row.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rhi.”

“Rhiane,” Mom’s voice calls for me further down the corridor. “It’s time to get going.”

Rowyn and I step away from each other at the same time. I pick up my rucksack and nod at her, taking in the last of my twin sister before I turn and start to walk towards Mom. Rowyn, however, adds one more thing over my shoulder. “And Rhiane!”

I whip my helmet around. Rowyn jogs to get closer to me, lowering her modulated voice so only I can hear.

“Kick Din Djarin’s ass for me.”

I huff at that, as much as the sound of his name alone sets my chest aflame with deeply planted bitterness. “Easy.”

“Rhiane.” Mom’s voice is more stern now. I wince and turn to face her again, her battle-worn emerald suit of armor serving as a warning rather than an inspiration right now. “Let’s go.”

I look at my boots as I follow her out of the part of the stronghold I’ve called home for twenty-two cycles, now. Hopefully, Dad’s waiting outside, or else I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. There’s no way Mom’s going to let me back inside, and I can’t blame her. The last thing I’d want to do is either hold up the whole group of this cycle’s recruits or have to run like hell to catch up to them.

The maze of the stronghold soon gives way to Concordia’s swirling atmosphere, and as I look up, I can see the distant image of Mandalore. The familiar ache of curiosity and nostalgia I have no need for hits at the sight of our people’s homeworld. I wonder if earning my place as a warrior will ever grant me permission to visit our history there. Even Mom and Dad seem to miss it after running a few missions there when I was little.

Speaking of Dad, he stands with the other parents of my fellow recruits, who will see us off as we head to Kyrbej. There are less parents here than there are recruits, even if there aren’t that many of us. I push the unnecessary observation away and focus on the last goodbyes I have to make.

“You’re late, Rhiane,” Dad greets me, his gloved hand tapping the side of his helmet—and no doubt powering down the chrono within his visor.

Mom offers him the answer. “Rowyn.”

Dad nods in understanding. He approaches me and sets a strong hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this day, verd’ika.” I smile to myself at the nickname. I’ve had it ever since I tried to force Rowyn into wrestling matches when we were kids. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

“Thank you.” I nod, maintaining my composure and respect in light of the fellow Mandalorians who surround us.

“The Fighting Corps isn’t ready for you.” Mom speaks up next. She presses her hand against the back of my emerald helmet to make it meet her own. “But you are damn sure ready for it.”

My eyes start to sting, my nose prickling and my throat tied up in a spikey knot. Shit. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, even if my beskar could hide it—but I hadn’t expected my parents to show me anything more than tough-love in front of others. “Thank you.” I force the words through my tightened throat.

“The cycle will be over before you know it.” Dad steps towards me when Mom gives him room to, his helmet also meeting my own. “You’ll be a full-fledged warrior next time we see you.”

“Just a full-fledged recruit, Dad.” I manage to maintain my usual smartass tone even amidst my emotional struggle. Dad huffs and steps away. I look between my parents and lower my helmet in love and respect. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Their comforting voices are a chorus that wrap around me like a sweet embrace as I force myself to turn my back on them. I join the group of recruits and get in formation, falling into the empty space in the two-by-two line that’s been saved for me.

“It’s about time your ass turned up.” The recruit at my side’s tone is full of nothing but amusement as she tilts her purple helmet at me. “I was starting to think you were having second thoughts.”

I shoved my shoulder against hers. “Fuck off, Sahra.” I tilt my helmet back at her. “As if I’d be the one between us to stay behind.”

I could almost feel the hot waves of Sahra’s embarrassment warming my black leathers. “That’s different. Since Thiio’s due for his training next year—.”

“—You’ll be spending two cycles apart, not just one. I know.” I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “But this will be good for you two. You’ve been inseparable ever since they moved his family’s wing closer to yours.”

“And?” Sahra’s curt response is almost a challenge.

“Selfishly, it gives me more alone time with you.” I let her hand go and shrug. “Plus, who knows. Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.” I gesture with my  helmet to the path we’re about to take. “There’s gonna be a lot of extra adrenaline we have to take care of out there.”

“Fair point.” Sahra becomes more amused again as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And who exactly do you think you’ll be choosing for that task?”

I shrug again. “I’ll have to wait and see.” I spot a familiar shine diagonally across from my position, about four rows of recruits ahead. “I do know who I won’t be choosing, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” My visor snaps over to Sahra. She dramatically fires my own words back at me. “Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.”

“Fuck no.” I find the silver helmet again, the only one in this entire group that hasn’t been painted, and tighten my jaw. “That doesn’t apply to him.”

“Really, Rhiane?” Sahra is using the tone of voice that makes it hard to tell if she’s being serious or not. “I always thought you two would be a power—.”

I shove my elbow hard enough into her ribs to make her lose her breath for a moment.

“Damn, fine then. Comm received.” Sahra rubs her hand over her ribs. “No more jokes about Djarin.”

The sound of his name causes his silver helmet to turn over his shoulder. I don’t let my visor stray from his, instead challenging him to look away first. My hands curl into fists at my sides and I wish I could swing them in his direction. I’ve already sparred with him enough times to know, though, that I won’t win—but neither will he.

The question now, then, is who’s going to win this staring contest of ours.

“Recruits!” A booming voice announces from the front of the group.

Another draw it is. We look away from each other at the same time, focusing our attention to the black-armored Mandalorian ahead of us. Captain Hosnan has been running the Fighting Corps’ training for cycles, even before more than half our ranks abandoned the Way during the Clone Wars.

“You’ve been training for cycles to see this moment. You’re now mere minutes away from embarking on this journey, a Mandalorian tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

My stomach twists with nerves I’m not used to having. The historical weight of this training isn’t lost on me, especially when I remember who my ancestors are. Settling for anything less than the goal I’ve made for myself in my mind is unacceptable.

“You’ve sworn the Creed. You’ve earned your most valuable piece of armor: your helmets.” 

Each one of our helmets is unique in some way, all adorned with special colors and embellishments—except for Din’s. For some reason, it makes my blood boil even more.

“Now, you will go on to earn each piece of your full suit of armor with each challenge you undertake. It won’t be easy, but the generations before you have proven it can be done. I’m the first captain to have no deaths reported at Kyrbej in three-hundred years, so don’t be my first.”

I swallow hard. No pressure.

“But don’t be mistaken. This isn’t because I’m softer than the other captains.” Captain Hosnan crosses his arms over his cuirass. “It’s because I’m tougher, and that toughness yields results. So, if any one of you feels you’re not up for the challenge, do us all a favor and walk away now while you can. As for the rest of you…”

Captain Hosnan lowers his arms to lift his fist to the center of his cuirass, right over the kar’ta. 

“Welcome to the Fighting Corps.” He lowers his helmet. “This is the Way.”

We all mirror his gesture, crossing our right arms over our chests and lowering our helmets. “This is the Way.”

The family members beside us are the last to say the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Captain Hosnan turns and begins to walk forward, and our group of recruits follows in obedient formation. I pull the straps of my rucksack higher on my shoulders and give Sahra a look. “Are you ready, Private Auren?”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Voss.”

▼▲▼

As it turns out, the hardest part of our cycle at Kyrbej is fucking walking there.

After endless hours of non-stop travel across this desolate moon we call home, Captain Hosnan has finally allowed us to make camp. We don’t have the supplies to pitch tents, so we settle for various alcoves in the nearby rock structures that have defined Concordia ever since it was settled—or, at least, mined.

My feet are throbbing and my legs nearly give out when I sit down beside Sahra at our makeshift fire, but at least this walk is breaking in my boots. I chew on the ration pack Rowyn helped me acquire from the kitchen of our wing, sliding the material in the gap between the lip of my helmet and my skin. There’s no chance I’m gonna be able to hunt something out here.

The recruits are scattered throughout the alcove in their small friend groups, the ones made long before Kyrbej was even on the horizon. I’m well aware these groups will be drastically different by the time we all complete our training, and not just because of Linessa’s warning. It’s common sense. The shit we’re about to go through this cycle changes people from the inside-out.

“I’ll be right back,” Sahra speaks up into our comfortable silence. She stands and brushes the dirt of the alcove off her leathers. “I’ll let you know if I find a decent corner of privacy for relieving ourselves.”

I snort with amusement and watch her as she strides away. I’m not on my own for long, though, as another person soon comes to take her place. I don’t bother fighting the snarl underneath my  helmet or the roll of my eyes behind my visor.

“Voss.” Din’s modulated tone is curt as he stands over me.

“Djarin.” I all but bite his name out.

His arms cross over his chest. His broad chest. Shit, does that tiny detail really matter? “You seem tired.”

I scoff. “What a fucking compliment.” I sit up more and tilt my helmet. “Are you not exhausted from walking for at least six hours straight?” When he starts to reply, I hold up my hand. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve somehow been training for this specific part along with everything else.”

Din tilts his helmet back at me. “You’re catching on.”

Frustration pumps through my veins like hot, molten lava. “Well, what the hell do you want? Or did you just come over here to be an asshole?”

Din doesn’t waver at my hurled insults. “You tell me. Your friend was the one who said my name earlier.”

I narrow my eyes at him and hope he can somehow see their wrath behind my visor, even if it breaks the Creed. “Can’t live with the fact your name’s said in conversations you’re not a part of, Djarin?” I let out an amused huff. “Because I hate to tell you, people are allowed to say your name when you’re not around.”

“I would’ve been content to leave you to it.” Din shifts his weight to one hip. “But you were looking at me, so… naturally, I assumed you had something to say.”

“Nope.” I’m suddenly grateful for the Creed again that keeps my warm, embarrassed face from Din’s line of vision. Ancestors, forgive me. “Consider it a mistake.”

Din’s helmet straightens. “Let me give you some advice.” He gestures with his helmet to the view of Concordia outside the alcove. “There’s no room for mistakes at Kyrbej. Even one could move you down the ranks, and fast. My advice, then?” He drops his arms back to his sides, conveying his severity. “Don’t let it happen again.”

My anger becomes so volatile that I’m relieved I don’t have a metal suit of armor covering me. It would just melt into my skin. “So now you’re giving me orders?” I shake my helmet. “Hell no. And you say that as if I don’t already know.” My anger unties a cruel knot within my throat and unleashes its full wrath. “Unlike you, I have a fucking legacy to maintain.”

Din stiffens, but it only lasts for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but it’s not an unusual action for him. “Good.” He nods at me, having the audacity to remain civil after my harsh bite—and making me feel like the asshole here. “I expect it won’t happen again, then.”

He turns his back before he can see my middle finger extended up at him. I curse under my breath and wrap my arms around myself for more warmth, glancing at the unfinished ration pack on my lap. I’ve lost my appetite, and I could use the rest for breakfast, anyway.

No. I am not letting this man make me eat myself alive because he was the one who approached me in the first place. He’s trying to get to me mentally, since he can’t beat me physically. I won’t let him win.

Sahra returns and sits even closer to my side than she had before. “Damn, what did I miss?” Her visor gives me a once-over. “You’re tenser than a lariat.” She points at my unfinished ration. “And I expected that to be crumbs by now.”

“What do you think happened?” My visor’s glaring in Din’s direction, even though he’s become lost within the fray of recruits. I find his silver helmet amidst a group of other foundling recruits. He’s the biggest of them all.

“You mean, who do I think happened?” Sahra huffs. “It’s not really a question.”

“He was an asshole for coming over here, and then he made me be an asshole back.”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “He ‘made’ you?”

I finally turn to face her. “He wanted to know why you said his name earlier, before we left.”

I hate the way I can practically see Sahra’s purple helmet grow brighter, as if the fire suddenly got more powerful. “Yeah? And what did he have to say about my brilliant joke?”

“Your brilliantly fucking stupid joke? Yeah, he doesn’t know about it.” I huff in indignation. “He just threatened me not to make the ‘mistake’ of using his name without telling him about it again.”

Sahra’s shoulders tense at that. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” I rest even further against the smooth slab of stone supporting me.

“So, how exactly were you an asshole in this context?”

I cringe, squeezing my eyes tight behind my visor in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me.” The only person who knows the Creed better than me is Din himself. The man’s a stickler for the rules and customs of our people. The foundlings are the future.

“Let me guess.” Sahra’s fingers tap over her thigh in unnecessary concentration. I already know she’s going to get it right on the first try. “You made a jab about him being a foundling?”

I palm my helmet with one of my hands. “Why am I such an ass about that sometimes, Sahra?” I shake my head.

“It’s the only leverage you have on him.” Sahra shrugs and pokes at the fire to keep it burning. “He’s not the most open about his life before his rescue, and he’s definitely not the type to tell anyone how he feels about it—or anything else.”

I stare at the fire. “That doesn’t make it right. He just…” I clench my hands into tight fists, “shit, he makes me so damn angry sometimes.”

“It may not be right, but it’s understandable.” Sahra nods at me. “You were predicted to be the top of our cycle from a young fucking age. Then Djarin just comes in, and… well, he’s the only one who can threaten that.”

I exhale deeply and close my eyes, feeling the weight of this day and situation upon me. “I don’t want to think about that day anymore.”

Sahra’s hand gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.” I hear her shuffling around as she leans back next to me. “Get some rest. I have a feeling Hosnan’s gonna have us up and at ‘em as early as possible.”

Sahra’s right. It feels like I’ve been asleep for all of five minutes when the sound of beskar-on-beskar rings throughout the alcove.

The rest of the recruits and I jolt awake, looking to see Captain Hosnan with his gauntlets crossed over each other. “Morning, recruits! You have five minutes to fully put out your fires, pack your rucksacks, and relieve yourselves before we continue on!”

I groan and let my helmet hit the stone behind me for a moment. We’re not even at Kyrbej yet, and I already understand why I’ve trained like hell for this cycle.

But we will be getting to Kyrbej today, and that excitement alone is what gets me moving faster than anything else.

Once we’re all back on our feet and in our two-by-two formation, Captain Hosnan continues on our path to Kyrbej. Sahra’s quick to notice the sudden hop in my step. “What’s got you so excited to walk another six hours straight?”

I shoot her an incredulous look. “Kyrbej.”

“Right.” Sahra’s visor rises to the swirling sky for a moment. “I almost forgot the destination.”

“I’ve only been training my whole life for it.” I smile to myself, experience my first true wave of joy since leaving the stronghold. “Plus, I’ll finally get to see Linessa.”

Sahra’s helmet snaps back towards me. “Oh, shit, that’s right. She was team leader last year.”

“Damn right she was.” I tilt my helmet towards her. “She’s a Vizsla, after all.”

Sahra snorts. “If Paz was my older brother, I’d work my ass off to be team leader, too.” She gives me a knowing look. “But I’m not even gonna try when I know who it’s going to.”

I bite my cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“By the Ancestors, Rhiane, don’t lose your confidence already.” Sahra nudges my arm. “Your jab at Djarin may have been brutal, but it’s true. Even if he could possibly manage to beat you out in skill, when was the last time they made someone who’s not tied to a clan or a house a fucking team leader?”

My jaw remains wired shut. She’s right. The revelation floods relief through me. “Fair point. I’ll give you that.”

I don’t have another option; I have to believe her. Failing to become team leader isn’t an option. I won’t be able to face Dad, Mom, or even Rowyn if I don’t earn the title.

The hours go by surprisingly quickly, either because of the haziness of my exhaustion or because of the verbal games Sahra and I play to keep ourselves entertained. That haze, however, is quickly replaced by shocking clarity as the adrenaline kicks in at the sight on the horizon.

The unmistakable pillars of Kyrbej frame a tight group of Mandalorian warriors, those who will be serving as our officers, leaders, and teachers for the next cycle. I’m already searching for Linessa’s telltale blue helmet, but as much as I love the woman who’s like another sister to me, she’s not the only reason why my heart is racing with excitement.

After cycles and cycles of waiting, I’m finally at Kyrbej. I’m finally facing my long-awaited destiny. Not even my doubts about Djarin or team leader can quell my pure anticipation.

I don’t have to be Force-sensitive to know that I—and Kyrbej itself—won’t ever be the same after this moment.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

#i am SO excited for this one!!! #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x original female character #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the rising phoenix #dindjarindiaries

[lovefromremus]

AFTG Headcanon Series [2] Neil

part 1, part 2, part 3

So we all know that Neil and Mary would sleep with their backs to one another, right? Well from this I like to interpret as one of the main ways Neil likes to feel safe is by being held

Not because Mary held Neil, because she didn't, but because he was always so close to her every night and after years of pain not once did she turn to face him and hold him, and now he was in a safe environment, he ached to be held

Of course, when Andrew finds out about this, he is more than happy to hold him when he can and feels comfortable to do so

Neil doesn't share Andrew's love for ice cream. However, it's Kevin who introduced him to the world of sorbet. His favourite is raspberry.

Neil likes to play with fashion. Growing up clothes never had any gender, they wore what they found. Imagine Neil in neon tops and long, flowy skirts

HE LOVES TEA. HE CHANNELS HIS INNER BRITISH GENES OKAY? STUART SENDS HIM BOXES OF YORKSHIRE TEABAGS (im projecting again my bad)

Him and Allison go on weekly lunch dates every Saturday to catch up and gossip with one another, at first Neil is reluctant but he eventually loves them

Kevin comes to him whenever he's feeling anxious or upset

Has a really strong relationship with Jean after the Nest, they often call and text each other and love seeing each other at games, banquets etc

I'm sorry but I have always seen his hair as GINGER as in ORANGE not Auburn, he has ORANGE HAIR YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ITS JUST BRIGHT AND COLOURFUL LIKE HIS EYES

Cannot drink any form of soda/fizzy drinks or juice unless it's HEAVILY DILUTED. He actually recoils and squints. He hates it.

Uses he/him pronouns but doesn't really know what's going on with his gender. He only started thinking about it when he discovered people can identify however they want to. But when he's asked what people should refer to him as, he just says he doesn't care (he would prefer if you didn't refer to him at all)

You may think Neil is the one doing all the rambling? You're wrong. Apart from exy, Neil is a listener. He grew up being quiet all the time and sometimes going days without uttering a word. It's Andrew who rambles to him about his day, his hobbies, a bird he saw on the way home etc. Neil smiles, nods, and tries to remember every word

Ends up having loads of fidgets and little things to play with on a lanyard he uses in class because he just has to be doing something. Whenever he's in an open environment he has to be moving constantly

Jumps when the toaster goes off every fucking time lmao

Does maths for fun?! What a weirdo but he definitely likes how organised and calm writing out all the steps makes him feel

Can do that weird thing where you make your tongue into like a flower shape

Wherever he is his laptop is not far behind. That kid always has it on him and is almost always using it for something whether it be studying or watching exy reruns

Gets lots of piercings!! It's how he starts reclaiming his body whilst also playing it safe with the FBI

Had the softest most beautiful most gorgeous most oh my god did you hear that? Laugh ever.

I'm telling you his laugh is just genuinely so elating that it makes everyone around him feel at ease

Just generally the type of person you can be around and never feel uncomfortable, Neil always likes to make sure people feel safe around him. Not that he tries really hard to find out what people do and don't like, but he's so calm and passive he never does anything to push anyone anyways

ABSOLUTE BADASS some of the things he mutters under his breath are so fucking funny it's shocking sometimes

Overall, just an amazing human.

But he could kill you. Remember that.

#all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #psu foxes #andreil #palmetto state university #neil josten #the foxhole court #aaron minyard #kevin day

[wandringaesthetic]

OVERTHINKING 30 SECONDS OF ALUCARD CASTLEVANIA:

I deliberately spoiled myself for whether he would be showing up before I started watching because I didn't want to disappoint myself if he didn't. So I saw this screenshot out of context and was like "no, put him back." He looks a bit too smooth and cherubic. Doll-like and a bit too feminine.

In context it's not so bad, in profile the change isn't so drastic and I think it's more that they have him exceedingly pale and that flattens out all of his shading than that they changed his facial shape much. Some of this is also just the slight difference in art style. Lines are lighter and more sketchy here and we don't have as much dark dark shading.

I expected that he would probably have white/gray hair a la Symphony of the Night and he does. A lot of the Ayame Kojima artwork he looks more pale blond but I most people playing the game interpret that sprite as having gray or white hair.

Also like Symphony of the Night, he's got a cravat. All laced up to the chin versus loose, low necked shirt or walking shirtless scene in Series 1

I always guessed that they had his first appearance like this to confirm beyond a doubt that the long haired pretty person was male so foreign language markets wouldn't be tempted to change his gender. And also I guess let's show off that scar.

ANYWAY. I always interpreted Alucard's silvery SotN hair as an expression of age/weariness/grief. He's canonically been taking a dirt nap for a while, right? An expression of the fact (?) that he hasn't been feeding. Homeboy is anemic.

By the way, it's never really made clear in Castlevania the animation whether Alucard needs to drink blood. I always assumed that he did at least sometimes. In part, because of this:

He has a confidence here that says to me that this is not the first time he has lunged after someone's throat.

Also it looks like the coffin apparatus he rises out of when he's introduced is feeding him blood somehow.

[He also eats food obviously, from his foraging and cooking montages in S3. my fanon interpretation of this is that he needs some of both but not as much blood as a full vampire would need and not as much food as a full human would need. He can survive a long time (probably a very very long time) without either but he'd suffer for it]

Some Castlevania vampires have more inhuman features than others. I'm speculating on this being more true the more old/powerful the vampire. Drolta's black sclera, Dracula's ridiculous height, Olrox's glowing eyes, etc. So the white/silver hair (and the 'is he glowing or is he REALLY white' complexion) might be an expression of Alucard aging and coming into his powers. Because a lot of our Castlevastle vampires are paper white but not all.

Him being laced to the chin versus tits out implies a more closed personality. Maturity, perhaps. Less emotional and sexual availability.

(In the first season he just woke up so you can't blame him for not wearing a shirt. In season 4 the shirtlessness is a Choice.)

I would say "please, someone fuck this man" but we all know how that went.

IIRC, in games canon he went immediately to sleep after Castlevania III and then didn't wake up until Symphony of the Night. This implies some self hatred and maybe depression. Feeling like you're something that shouldn't exist but being unable to easily self terminate and/or sticking around just in case you need to fight a monster worse than you.

Animated Alucard doesn't seem to have that level of self hatred. In series 1, he seems to identify more as a vampire than as a human (his comment about being less than excited about the Belmont hold because it's a museum dedicated to the extermination of his people) and doesn't seem to think that existing as a vampire is wrong in and of itself. In fact he seems to have some pride in vampires as preservers of knowledge even after the events of season 2. ALSO, his relationship with his father seems more positive in the animation than in the games. In the animation, he loves and respects his father up until the point he decides to exterminate all humans. In the games it seems like that father son relationship was more fraught and possibly more distant.

HOWEVER. If his kill count really is in the thousands, that makes me believe that not only has he been awake most of the last 300 years, he's spent most of that time killing vampires and that he may have started killing vampires generally rather than just those making problems. Even if he hasn't come to the conclusion of "all vampires must die and then when I have finished my grim work I shall die too" if he has been hunting and killing vampires for SO LONG he has to have started seeing them, and the parts of himself that are like them, as the problem.

I don't love that kind of moral absolutism, but. In Castlevania we have (correct me if I'm wrong) two morally ambiguous vampires (Dracula and Olrox) and the rest are evil. Castlevania the animation seems to not come down on the side that vampires are soulless monsters, but the overwhelming majority are evil. I think it would go against the series core to argue that vampires aren't people or can't be good people, or that you get one choice and that determines your whole life and impact on the world going forward (how Christian of you--also, a lot of them didn't get a choice!) But the fact remains that vampires have a strong incentive to view human beings as not really being people.

Alucard MIGHT be choosing to abstain from blood and that MIGHT be why he's so pale he glows. Drink your juice, Alucard. Take care of yourself.

I don't love the idea of Alucard being so self hating because I love him and I want what's best for him, but I have to admit that this kind of self hatred is what makes Symphony of the Night Alucard and most notable dhampir characters compelling. A monster fighting worse monsters. A cursed, bastard existence that nonetheless gives you great power. Choosing to do good even though you yourself are damned. Being constantly on the verge of a fall, of awful temptation, of becoming the thing you hunt. Fighting for a world that has no place for you in it.

LASTLY. As a Trephacard shipper. In animation canon he probably AT LEAST stayed awake for more or less a human lifetime. With Sypha and Trevor, in whatever capacity. Undeniably, he loved them. But there are ways that might contribute to the self hatred. It would have distanced him from the vampire part of his identity. I keep thinking of the fact that Trevor corrects Alucard ONCE when he refers to Dracula as "my father" and Alucard refers to him as "Dracula" for the rest of the series. I keep thinking about him staring at the cabinet of vampire skulls in the Belmont hold and Trevor and Sypha both seeming to not really notice. It would be tempting to minimize or fight against that part of his identity. He might feel like he has no place with them if he doesn't.

(AND THAT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE FACT THAT DRAC IS ALIVE NOW. I have no idea how they're going to choose to deal with that, but I have trouble imagining Alucard and Dracula having a positive relationship going forward. That might even contribute to Alucard feeling like he had to choose.)

#Castlevania #Castlevania nocturne #alucard #alucard castlevania #castlevania nocturne spoilers #here it is here's The Post

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

wrath (noun): uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. in its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate

cw: rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, unsafe sex, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, angst (????) on accident, probably more tbh they genuinely fucking hate each other in this universe

This thing they’d had going on for three months now really had started off fun.

It started out soft and sweet. Stolen kisses in the back of The Hideout, quick, messy blowjobs in the backseat of Steve’s car, booty calls late at night when one or the other couldn’t sleep.

He can’t really identify what went wrong or when. All Steve knows is that the butterflies that he used to get when Eddie came around have turned and twisted into something sharp and heavy. Now when they’re within earshot of each other it's all biting insults and low-blows.

Somewhere along the line, the happiness that Eddie planted in his heart morphed into bitter resentment. But Steve’s nothing if not self-sacrificial, and the sex was too good to give up. Who is he to deny himself of the only good thing Eddie has left to offer him? So now he finds himself shoved into bar bathrooms and left high and dry, bruises mottled up and down his chest and dark bags under his eyes from a fitful sleep. Somehow he’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

On nights where he can’t shake the memory of Eddie’s lips on his and his heart fluttering pretty and soft, he goes out. 

He goes out to a seedy club and he finds someone that he won’t remember the name of in the morning and he tries anything to clear his mind. Nothing’s ever as good.

Tonight he’s found himself a few beers deep and tracing water stains on the bar top at some place he’s never been just outside of town. He’d spent the last ten minutes or so talking to a guy that looked like he’d show him a good enough time. Dark, curly hair cut so that it flopped down into his face, pretty blue eyes that went a shade darker when they looked Steve over, and a shirt cut low enough that Steve could see ink swirl across his collarbones in vines and leaves. 

Steve thinks his name is Adam, but he wasn’t really listening and still really isn’t. He’s found that a few soft laughs and hums while guys talk is usually enough to feign interest long enough to coax them to a bathroom. 

This guy, Adam maybe, is about two seconds away from dragging him there himself, he can tell. It’s written all over his body language. Steve smiles his prettiest smile and flutters his eyelashes.

But as soon as he opens his mouth to purr something like “Do you want to get out of here?” There are strong arms snaking around his waist and teeth scraping at his throat and Steve’s blood runs hot in an instant. He’s well-accustomed to it no longer being a good sensation.

Steve shoves his elbow back with as much force as he can muster and it all goes red before he even hears his chuckle.

“Strike out again, Harrington? I made it just in time then, huh sweetheart,” Eddie coos in a tone dripping with condescension.

He’s on his feet and shoving at Eddie’s chest with enough force he knows it’ll bruise, sees it knock the wind out of him a bit. Gets right up in his face and would do anything to rip that self-satisfied smirk right off of it.

“You miserable fucking prick,” he spits, uncaring of the way Eddie flinches back the tiniest bit. “I was not striking out, and I never am! And yet here you come acting like you’re saving some damsel in distress when it’s you crawling back to me. Every. Single. Time,” he punctuates with jabs to his chest. 

Eddie’s smile doesn’t leave as he huffs a laugh. His tongue swipes across sharp, sharp teeth and he leers at Steve with narrowed eyes. Predatory in a way Steve liked once upon a time but now makes him want to punch out his teeth. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he looks entirely too comfortable with the fact that he just ruined Steve’s night. Again.

“God, sweetheart. You’re so wound up,” he whispers, face pinching up in faux concern. He brings his hands up to smooth down Steve’s biceps and digs his fingers in tight enough that he doesn’t budge with Steve’s attempts at shaking him off. “Tell me. When was the last time someone fucked you good enough that you remembered his name the next morning, now be honest.” He leans in close and that smirk is back and Steve hates it. “You can say it was me, honey. It’ll be our little secret.” 

And Steve’s seeing red again because he’s right. 

It was him. It’s always him and probably always will be. 

He gets back up in his space once more and makes sure he’s looking at his eyes when he whispers a sharp “Fuck. You.”

And it's only for a split second but he swears he sees hurt flash through brown eyes. Gone in an instant and replaced with a real, raw indifference that Steve thinks might be worse. 

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and Eddie’s lips brush his ear. 

“Yours or mine?”

And it was always going to go like this. Steve’s not under any illusions. Knew this time wouldn’t be different. But it still stings the way that he knows in an alternate universe that question might’ve been accompanied with giggles and a kiss. 

But then he remembers the way that Eddie looked so proud when Steve first said he hated him and the rage is back ten-fold.

He turns on his heel and knows he’s being followed.

“Yours. Don’t want you in my fucking house.”

*****

Steve’s got Eddie’s wrists pinned to the wall above his head and his teeth raking down his neck. Wants to leave a mark. A memory. 

He hears Eddie gasp as Steve’s hips shove hard against his own and he shoves harder in retaliation.

“Remember when you used to kiss me?” Steve asks, Eddie’s breath against his face enough to pull some bricks from the walls he’s spent months building.

He feels more than hears Eddie’s hum. Feels his knee come up to shove him backwards until he’s the one pressed against the wall, face turned sideways and arms pinned behind his back.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He leans in to bite at Steve’s ear and make him hiss.

Steve’s grinning, ugly and mean when he grits out “Worst decision of my fucking life.”

But now Eddie’s the one smirking, he can hear it when he speaks. “Mine too. Liked my life a lot better when I didn’t know what you taste like.”

Steve aims for the shin when he bucks a foot backwards, nails it if Eddie’s grunt is anything to go by. He spins around and shoves at Eddie hard enough to send them both to the floor, grateful for a second the fact that his muscle mass makes it easy to manhandle his way into what he wants. 

He laughs, loud and fake. “Now see, that I just don’t believe, Eddie.” He’s got his eyebrows raised high and pout on his lips and he knows what’s coming and he relaxes into it.

And yeah maybe Steve’s strong, but Eddie knows him. Knows when his guard is down. He gets his knees up around Steve’s hips and flips them over, Steve’s back against the ground and there’s the fury Steve’s been after. Been trying to bring it out all night.

Eddie’s got a ringed hand pressed tight against Steve’s throat when he finally lets himself feel. Feel good the way only Eddie can make him. Lets the fight drain out of him as his vision goes spotty. Eddie’s spitting words in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” and saliva into his mouth and it’s so bad-good.

His next breath is heaving as he comes back down and Eddie’s already standing and walking away. 

“Get up. I don’t have all night.”

And now that he’s got Eddie mad, got him fired up, he knows he can let himself go. Lets himself fall even though he knows Eddie’s not going to catch him. Thinks it's worth it until it's not. Until tomorrow when he remembers the way he and Eddie won’t look at each other when their friends are around. They way they don’t talk.

Because this is how it's always going to go. He’s going to let Eddie rile him up, make his sharp, heavy butterflies flutter out in words he thinks he doesn’t really mean. He’s going to push and push and push until Eddie breaks. And even though he started it, Eddie always will. Break, that is. He’ll break out of his self-assured, indifferent asshole persona and he’ll turn into something real and mean. Someone that hates Steve back. 

Steve thinks it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Eddie stretches him open. The way he smacks the inside of Steve’s thigh hard enough it leaves a welt the shape of his hand. 

He’s got two fingers inside him and Steve feels so good and he can’t help but talk. Head thrown back, words fall from his lips between desperate moans. 

“Hate you so fucking much.”

A smack to his ass and a dejected huff. 

“Yeah. I know you do sweetheart."

Steve groans in annoyance but his back arches all the same.

“Hate it when you call me that.”

And he’s not looking but he knows Eddie is rolling his eyes. 

“I know you do, baby.”

And there’s tears pricking at the back of his eyes because sure he really does hate this man. Really does think he’d have been better off never meeting him. But all he can hear when Eddie calls him “baby” is the way he used to say it through laughter against his skin.

He knows he’s pouting but he thinks he deserves it with the bitter memories he’s fighting away. “Hate that even worse.”

Eddie pulls his fingers out and crawls up his body to squeeze at his cheeks until he fishmouths.

“I know. Now shut up and stop crying. You wanted me mean and you’ve fucking got it baby.”

Steve gasps high in his throat when Eddie grabs him by his hips and flips him onto his belly and something about this flavor of anger Eddie’s wearing sets Steve off again. But this time his anger isn’t a facade. It's raw and real and it's hurt that got brushed aside and became something else entirely.

“Hate what we could’ve been. Hate that I hate you.” He says into a pillow.

He hears Eddie groan and not in a good way. In the way he does when he’s annoyed. He feels his weight lay over his back and his hand on the inside of his thigh yanking upward and open.

“Well I hate that you don’t know when to stop talking." He grits out and the pressure as he presses inside Steve is enough to make him white out.

By the time he builds up a bruising rhythm, punching Steve’s breath out of him on every thrust, he’s talking again.

“Could’ve given you everything you wanted sweetheart,” and his tone is so patronizing, “But it just wasn’t fucking enough was it?”

And Steve’s barely holding on to his consciousness through the pressure deep in his guts and the hand pressing the back of his neck down, down, down. But he’s still got enough wherewithal that that strikes a chord.

Because no, having Eddie behind closed doors wasn’t enough. And Eddie knows that. He knows how that hurt him and chooses to use it against him anyway.

His voice is muffled into the pillow and broken up by whimpers and whines but he speaks anyway.

“Well it wasn’t my– shit, so good. Wasn’t my pride that got in the way.”

Eddie’s hips slow to a deep grind and freeze pressed to the hilt.

The hand at the back of Steve’s neck slides to the front and yanks him up on his knees, pressed against Eddie’s chest.

His chest is heaving where its plastered to Steve’s back and his voice rumbles through them both.

“Maybe not. But it was you that kept your mouth shut and made it my fault.”

Steve goes to argue but gets cut off by the sharp stinging of teeth breaking the skin against his shoulder blade. His breath goes ragged on a shriek and his vision whites out around the edges. Eddie’s shoving him back down, ass-up and face smushed sideways. His hand slips up and pries his mouth wide open and shoves in hard, stopping anything he could possibly say. Steve’s eyes are wide where he’s staring, gone glassy and wet.

“And it looks like now you don’t know how to do that, do you baby?” He asks.

And he’s got his fingers down his throat and his dick shoved deep.

There’s blood dripping from his teeth in that sharp, bitter smile. And he’s so pretty. And Steve hates him.

He chokes around his fingers on a sob as Eddie picks up his pace again.

Hates that it feels so good.

Hates that he comes back for this.

Hates that Eddie’s right.

Because maybe he can’t pinpoint when or where things went south, but he knows it has everything to do with the way he started needing more and not asking for it. Knows Eddie was letting him figure it out on his own. And instead of just going for it, he knows he started blaming.

So maybe he does hate Eddie. Hates him for the way he didn’t push him when he knew he needed it. Hates that he still uses him like this. 

But he really hates himself. Because he could’ve had what he wanted but he didn’t take it.

(Hates that tomorrow he’ll forget this all again, too far in his head and in the feeling of Eddie taking what he wouldn’t give. He’ll forget it all and go back to hating him again.)

A sharp smack to the outside of his thigh brings him barreling back down into reality and it's Eddie’s words that send him hurdling into release.

“Here you fucking go again with the crying. God I hate that you’re so fucking pretty.”

Steve hates that that’s what does it for him. Hates that his crying is what does it for Eddie. Hates the way he’s filled up and will have to go home messy, the way Eddie pulls out of him and throws him his clothes.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Eddie’s heavy inhale from far away.

“I assume you can show yourself out.”

As Steve pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the tear tracks from his face he thinks “Yeah. This is why I hate him.”

And from the other side of the room Eddie thinks that if Steve would say half of the things that run through his mind with Eddie inside him, maybe they wouldn’t hate each other at all.

#seven deadly sins series #wrath #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steve harrington #eddie munson #gin writes #this got way more angsty than I intended I am so sorry #they're both really awful for each other in this please be warned #this is also nearly triple the length it was supposed to be #can you tell this got away from me be honest #sponsored by gin watching shrek 2 and 3 #shameless delete and repost since the last one was up way too damn long for the interaction it got (respectfully)

[paintedpeeta]

Katniss falling once again while hunting (perhaps from a height) and this time allowing Peeta to wait on her hand and foot because he’s worried about his little wife and her injuries when he goes and looks and sees how high she fell from

stop because one of the most underrated aspects (in my opinion) of everlarks relationship is that little period of time in catching fire when katniss is injured and spends quite a bit of time with peeta, who works on the plant book with her and carries her up and down the stairs.

it’s such a brief glimpse into them experiencing normality and domesticity together, but it’s adorable and shows katniss turning to peeta for comfort when she’s in a vulnerable state. also it is so damn intimate to work on what is, essentially, an important (remember, katniss used this book to identify edible plants to keep her family alive) family heirloom with someone.

idk about y’all but i wouldn’t invite someone to fuck around with something like that unless i was planning on keeping them around forever. the subconscious is a crazy thing miss katniss girl.

katniss notes that it’s the first time she does something not games related with peeta, but come to think of it… it’s one of the few times we see her getting to do something in the series that isn’t directly linked to her survival. she’s just comfortable with him, she likes him being around, enjoys watching him work, rhapsodizes entirely platonically about his eyelashes (“bro your eyelashes are so long and golden colored in the sunlight… as a friend”).

now, imagine all this sweet and caring domesticity and ramp it up by 10 if we’re talking about her picking up an injury when they’re actually married. for a start peeta would be super worked up and agitated about her getting hurt. he’d probably nag at her about being more careful for a bit, but it comes from a place of love and concern. he reminds her that every time she goes out hunting she leaves him behind waiting for her, and she grumbles at the attempted guilt trip before conceding that he’s right.

should it be suggested, he would strictly ensure she remained on bed rest. this would mean carrying her around whenever she wanted a change of scenery, which she actually doesn’t mind. if she wants fresh air, he gets her wrapped up and takes her out to the front porch. at first, katniss is slightly resistant to his fussing but she would eventually back down, knowing he won’t budge. and then she starts to lean into it. it would be say an ankle injury, but she’d be like “could you please brush my hair?” because you know. it feels nice and he’s gentle and she’s too busy lazing across the couch like buttercup.

this time of course, they would have the memory book to work on to keep her occupied but i don’t think it would be something they did everyday as it’s heavy stuff. and so it’s peeta’s job to keep her entertained. he gives her drawing lessons and when that fails he has her mix his paints up or sharpen his pencils while he sketches. he gets her yarn from town so they can learn to knit together, and thread too so she can do some embroidery (you might not think this a very katniss-y hobby, dear anon, but she is very self-sufficient).

#everlark headcanons #asks #i luv them taking care of each other honestly #its their brand!!

[lavfeyson]

loki season two is starting to be promoted and here’s your reminder NOT to watch it

the loki show did damage to not only loki’s character as a whole, but to bisexual and genderfluid people as well.

for years, loki has been a comic character that is well known for their bisexuality and genderfluidity. a huge component to this was the ‘loki: agent of asgard’ series written by al ewing (a personal favorite of mine). many queer people opened up their arms to welcome this representation. had i known i was bisexual at the time that mcu loki was my favorite character ever, i just know i would’ve been ecstatic, which i was when the first looks at season one came out.

the first red flag should’ve been when it was revealed that in loki’s tva files, his sex was labeled as “fluid” when it’s actually his gender. i remember people being skeptical and wary about it but continued to hope for the representation that the cast promised in interviews beforehand. (if anyone is able to find which interview this was in, please let me know so i could link it.)

then as the series went on for the next six weeks, hopes of there being representation dwindled. there was the line of “a bit of both” when sylvie asked if loki courted princes or princesses and he assumed it was the same for sylvie, which was SOMETHING at the time! people were happy… for the first few days or so. we quickly realized that this was probably disney’s way of telling but never showing considering their infamous prejudice against lgbt+ rep. it was quite literally the bare minimum — a throwaway line so to say that could easily be forgotten by the average viewer. i recall that lots of people were huge shippers of loki x mobius and thought that maybe, just MAYBE, there would be something more explicitly romantic between them and hey, maybe there will be in season two! but it’s disney. you can understand that there’s not a whole lot of hope.

then comes loki’s genderfluidity. to start off, the whole existence of sylvie is the most damaging. in agent of asgard, loki has confirmed that no matter how she presents, she is always loki. there’s no “female/lady loki”, it’s all JUST loki. so to change up loki’s name, bleach her hair, and contradict whether or not she IS actually loki throughout the show is… questionable.

the line of “have you ever met a woman variant?” was just insane writing. all lokis can identify/present as women if they please!!! their shapeshifting abilities give them an advantage of presentation being easy for them, but all in all, every single loki can canonically identify as a woman. when that line was delivered, all the other loki variants looked confused as if they didn’t know. loki’s genderfluidity was never at the forefront of the writers’ minds, writers that were caught to be fucking weirdos on twitter! you can find what old tweets i’m talking about on twitter… but i digress. why would the loki variants not know such an integral part of their identity?

and the KISS. THE FUCKING KISS. we’re not angry that loki kissed a female-presenting character instead of mobius like many wished, no no no that’s not the big issue because bisexuals should never have to prove their bisexuality to anyone and they can kiss whoever the hell they want. we’re angry because loki kissed a female-presenting variant of HIMSELF. all throughout the first season, the writers went out of their way to try to differentiate sylvie from loki despite sylvie having been born as a loki variant, but there’s literally no way to separate sylvie from their lineage because at the end of the day, that’s who she was born as. no amount of bleach will change that fact. (i hope i made this easy to understand; not a lot of people get why this is an issue.) and regardless of whether or not that kiss was romantic, the fact that it even HAPPENED was a slap in the face to genderfluid fans of loki, and if the leaks for season two are right, that whole thing between the two will be continued since most of the season one writers worked on season two as well.

on top of this awful rep, known abuser jonathan majors will be in season two as another kang variant. i’ve heard that marvel had bigger plans for him, but due to these allegations, they’re limiting his presence as seen in the trailer, obviously meaning that they know.

hence why i ask fans to boycott/simply not tune in for season two if you care about queer people. if you’re desperate to watch, at least don’t use disney+. just because s2d is gone doesn’t mean other websites don’t exist. i also recommend reading ‘agent of asgard’. if you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me and please be respectful; your feelings about the show don’t dictate how hundreds of others feel, especially if their concerns are valid.

#loki #loki show #loki series #loki season two #loki trailer #loki laufeyson #mcu loki #anti sylvie #anti loki series #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #lgbtqia #queer rep in media #lily speaks tumblr edition

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Fake Boyfriends Never Stay Fake For Long {Eddie Munson X Plus Size Reader}

Plot: You ask Eddie Munson to pretend to be your boyfriend to make your ex jealous.

Character: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Identifying Reader

Warnings: Cruel comments about weight, negative thinking surrounding body image/weight, swearing, drinking at a party, slight violence (punching)

part of my eddie 'pretty eyes' series

He fumbled around in his dark tin for a few seconds before pulling out a rolled up joint. He put it between his lips, lit it and took a long drag before asking, "So lemme get this right," he leaned on the table, "you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend in order to make your ex-boyfriend jealous? Correct?"

You nodded, "Yes." You'd thought of the idea last night and when you saw Eddie in the halls that morning, you realised that he was the perfect candidate to ask to do this. It was a pretty wild idea, a fake boyfriend, but you wanted to prove your ex wrong, prove every cruel thing that he said about you wrong.

"And why me?" He took another drag, smoke puffing out the side of his mouth.

You shrugged, "You'd annoy the shit out of him, Eddie, why not be you?"

Eddie smirked, "Why do you want to make him jealous? Are you wanting to get back together with him?"

You grimaced and quickly shook your head, "God no, I just want to rub it in his face. He's a snarky asshole, he said some pretty awful stuff and I want to prove him wrong... So what do you think?"

"I... Why the hell not?" He grinned, motioning with his hands as he did so, "When do we start, Princess?"

You beamed at him, "Eddie, you're a life saver! Um, there's a party tonight, Jason's throwing it out at Benny's old diner."

Eddie groaned, "Carver? God, he's the worst!"

"I know but Ben will be there-" Eddie cut in asking if 'Ben' was your ex, "Yeah, he'll be there so I need him to see us together. We have to make it as realistic as possible you know."

"So you're okay with me flirting, kissing, touching?"

"If it feels right in the moment but-" a bubble of anxiety came from inside you. You weren't a petite, skinny girl, you had fat and a protruding stomach... some things that Ben didn't like anymore, "You sure you're okay to be seen with me? I mean... I'm not the most attractive or skinniest girl in Hawkins."

Eddie leaned on his elbows, watching you with curious eyes. You had been so confident up until this point, until it came down to your image. Consider Eddie to be intrigued, he wanted to know what Ben had done for you to take such drastic measures, "For what it's worth... I think you're pretty damn hot, doesn't matter what weight you are." Your cheeks burned but you played it down, thinking that Eddie was just playing into his role of being your fake boyfriend.

Quickly, so as not to get too flustered, you grabbed your bag, taking out your notebook and pen before scribbling your address on it, "Pick me up around 8pm?" You gave the paper to Eddie before you grabbed your things and left, slightly flushed and with a thought of 'what the fuck did I just do?'.

"Okay so ground rules," you said as you sat in Eddie's van. He'd picked you up fifteen minutes ago and now you were parked outside of Benny's old diner. You could hear the music muffled and pumping from inside, "Don't lay it on too thick but also don't lay it on too thin either. If anyone asks, we've been dating a little over a month, it's going great. You made the first move-"

"Woah, you've got this all planned out, don't you?" Eddie asked, corners of his mouth raising into a smirk, "Why don't you just take it easy and relax, Princess? It'll be fine... Stop worrying."

"I can't help it. I just worry all the damn time."

"What are you worried about?" He knew that all of this was fake and yet he found himself so intrigued to know more about you, about you and your pretty eyes.

You sighed, "In my head, this was a great idea... but now that we're here I'm just worried. Worried about Ben's reaction, what he'll say, how his friends will be." Eddie frowned as he asked you to explain further, "I... I'm worried what he'll say about me, about my weight..."

It all began to click into place for Eddie. You'd asked him earlier that day if he'd be okay seen with you because of your weight and now you were worried that Ben would mention it... It didn't take a genius to figure out what the issues in the relationship were. His frown only deepened as he watched you, watched as you fidgeted with your fingers nervously. You weren't just nervous to see your ex, you were nervous for him to see you.

"Is that why you two broke up?"

You nodded, "He kept making little jibes. At first it wasn't so bad but then it got pretty unhealthy. I wouldn't eat around him in fear of him commenting on how much I ate or what I should order, he kept telling me I had to lose weight that I was ugly, unlovable..." You shrug as tears burn in your eyes, "Worthless."

"What an asshole!" Eddie scoffed, shaking his head, "I'm sorry that the male species let us down once again." You laughed slightly at his comment but then he turned to you, eyes serious, "Seriously (y/n), you're fine the way you are. Just because you're a certain weight doesn't mean that you're any less beautiful or worth any less than someone smaller than you. He's just a fucking dick who never deserved you in the first place so we're gonna go in here and we're gonna make him regret ever even thinking those things about you."

You were touched by his words and it filled with you with some kind of confidence. You didn't know Eddie any more than surface level but you appreciated what he was saying to you, you liked that even though you didn't really know each other, he was still trying to make you feel better. It made you feel good knowing that someone was on your side. So with a nod of agreement to each other, the pair of you got out of Eddie's van ready to go into the party. Eddie walked round to you and stuck out his hand, "Ready, Princess?"

You gladly took his hand, "Ready."

Together, the two of you walked into Benny's old diner where the music blared and bodies danced. It was warm inside, too warm, sticky, sweaty heat and dancing, jumping bodies. Eddie tugged you over to where the drinks lay, two tables with tens and tens of half full bottles sat, "What do you want?" Eddie asked as he plucked a bottle of beer from the almost all melted ice bath they sat in. You replied with an 'anything' and Eddie plucked a second beer, biting the caps off before handing it to you.

"There you go, Princess," he said, winking at you as he wrapped an arm around your waist. You would've never let Ben sit his hand on your side where your fat rolls were in fear that he'd say something about them but with Eddie... you didn't seem to have those same worries. You barely knew Eddie but already you trusted that he would never put you in a situation like that. He clinked your beer bottles together, "Drink up." The two of you downed the first beer - a little liquid luck wouldn't go amiss, eh? - before you both ventured into the bouncing bodies of the horny, sweaty teenagers. It was then that you bumped into a couple of your friends who were well on their way to being wasted. They went to pull you into their crowd when they saw whose hand was clasped tightly in yours.

"Hi," Eddie grinned at them, eyes twinkling in amusement as their faces contorted into those of pure confusion, "I'm afraid she's mine tonight."

"No way!"

You actually hadn't thought about anyone else's reactions to seeing you and Eddie together. You'd been so preoccupied with getting Ben's attention that you totally disregarded your friends seeing the two of you together. As you stared at them, mouth unable to form words, you had no idea what to say but luckily it was your friend who filled in the silence.

"You two are dating? Oh my god, since when?!"

Eddie's grin only got wider, he was enjoying this charade, "Oh, a little over a month, right Princess?" He pulled you in close, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You could feel your face burn at how close he was as you felt his breath tickling some stray hairs of yours. His lips were gentle and soft, so unlike what he portrayed himself to be, it felt nice, "We're super happy, can you tell? I'm surprised she hasn't told you about me but we were keeping it pretty down low."

One of your friends eyed Eddie up and down before shrugging, "I already like him more than Ben."

"Is it true you worship the devil?" Your other friend asked.

"Oh my god," you groaned, "Eds, you don't have to answer that."

Eds.

He paused, mouthing the word to himself, enjoying the way it sounded and the way it felt coming out of your mouth. He shook his head before leaning in and saying, "Join Hellfire Club and find out."

One of your friends frowned but the other just shrugged off his comment, "Whatever. Just don't fuck this," she waggled her finger at the two of you, "up. If you make her sad even just for a second, we'll destroy you."

Eddie nodded, "I like that... Did you do that to Ben too?" You glanced at him, surprised at how curious he was about you and your dating life. You'd half expected his 'fake boyfriend' experience to just be to hang about with you for an hour and then go get wasted, you never thought that he'd be here making conversation with your friends and making you feel better about yourself.

The girls smirked and looked to you. You rolled your eyes, "After the whole Ben situation, the two of them went round to Ben's and went to his beloved car... $200 worth of damage later..."

The curly haired boy gave out a yell of laughter and he clapped, "That is what I like to hear!" He high hived them both as he asked for more details.

"A baseball bat just fell out the sky and managed to smash all the windows," one of them said with a smirk and a shrug, "bizarre that."

You watched the three of them as they laughed and told him about Ben's face when he saw the car and you smiled. It felt nice, normal almost. When you and Ben had been dating, he'd tried to isolate you from your friends and you were too wrapped up in the attention and you'd not seen the red flags. Luckily, your friends had seen them and had managed to talk sense into you. Though that didn't mean you broke up, it just meant your friends were more involved than Ben would've liked them to have been. It was once he started berating your weight causing your self-confidence levels to plummet that your friends stepped in and told you that you had to get that asshole out of your life. Ben had never made an effort to get to know them, he didn't even know their names, but as you watched Eddie... it felt like how a relationship should be.

It's fake, (y/n). It's not real.

Eddie glanced over to you, hand sliding into yours, "It's been lovely chatting, ladies, but I'd quite like to dance with my girl."

My girl.

Your stomach exploded into butterflies as your friends nodded and told you to catch up with them later before Eddie pulled you to the middle of what had became the dancefloor and began to sway side to side, completely out of sync and out of time with the song that played, "C'mon, Princess, loosen up!" He grabbed your free hand, twirling you round causing you to throw your head back with laughter. You laughed loudly as you relaxed into his playful nature. Eddie was good at making people feel comfortable, he was silly and fun and he didn't mind making a fool of himself if it would make you laugh. People roundabout the two of you cleared a space as Eddie had kept accidentally crashing you into other people, "Your friends are really cool," Eddie told you loudly over the music, "I love how protective they are of you."

"Yeah," you smiled, "me too."

Music pounded as the two of you spun around the dancefloor, laughing and grinning at each other without a care in the world, "You're a terrible dancer, Eds!" You giggled. He was. He was awful; all limbs and no rhythm yet still looked kind of cool whilst doing it? You'd never understand it. Usually when you tried to dance you just looked like a frigid plank of wood but with Eddie, you could enjoy yourself instead of thinking about what other people would be saying. You could focus on having fun with the curly haired boy rather than think of how your skirt was tight across your stomach and everyone could clearly see the outline of your overhanging belly. Thoughts like that didn't really pop up when you were in the presence of Eddie Munson. He made you comfortable, made you realise that it didn't matter what anyone thought... you liked that.

He pulled you in close, hand on your hip with fingertips dancing on the places you always hated Ben touching yet with Eddie, you didn't seem to mind. All you could focus on right now was how bright his brown eyes were, aglow with joy, as he grinned down at you. When you'd first came to Eddie with this idea of being your fake boyfriend, he was initially a little confused but super intrigued, that's why he'd said yes. Well that and the fact he'd had his eye on you for a while; you and those pretty eyes of yours. He didn't think he'd be having this much fun with you honestly.

His other hand grabbed yours and he began to slow dance with you despite it being a rather fast paced ABBA song. He was grinning wide, ear to ear, and leaned in close, "I like when you call me that... Eds, I mean."

You don't know what came over you, maybe it was the beer going to your head since you weren't a big drinker anyway, or maybe it was the music and the lights, or maybe the fact you hadn't really been this close to anyone in a while, or maybe it was just that curly haired brown eyed boy that was doing it but your heart beat increased and you could feel butterflies swarm in your stomach. Eddie's eyes moved to your lips and you found yourself almost leaning in before you realised what was happening. You pulled back quickly, "Let's get another drink!"

Eddie wasn't fazed by you abruptly pulling back and instead gladly lead you back through the crowd to grab you another drink. This time you opted for some of the punch which obviously had been spiked many, many times. It was too strong and Eddie couldn't help but laugh at your face when you tasted it, "How do people drink this stuff?!" You groaned. He rolled his eyes playfully as he told you it probably wasn't that bad.

He plucked the solo cup from your hands, taking a sip of it before wincing, "Okay, shit, yeah, I get your point." He put the cup on the table before grabbing two more beers, "Let's just stick to beer, yeah? Safest bet because everything's gonna be that strong I think." He opened them and handed one to you. You took a long sip, pulling a face as you swallowed it, "Not a big drinker, are you?" Eddie smirked.

You shook your head, "Hate it. I don't like not being in control of myself and my actions. I'm clumsy enough without a drink in me."

Eddie's brow furrowed slightly, "You know you don't have to drink if you don't want to, don't let the fact that I'm drinking or the fact we're at a party make you feel obligated to drink. It's okay if you don't." He moved his hand outwards, offering to take your beer from him and you gladly gave him it.

You thanked him and Eddie grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch, before the two of you plopped down onto it, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you in close, "Your ex, he here?" He asked quietly as he took a long sip.

You scanned the crowds, "Not seen him yet but he'll be here... Thank you for that by the way, Ben always mocked me when I didn't want to drink, called me boring. Half the time I'd drink to get him off my back."

Eddie scoffed. The more he learned about Ben, the more he hated him, "Why'd you date that asshole anyway?"

You shrugged, "He wasn't always like that. He was an old friend's older brother and it didn't take long before we started dating. At first, things were great and then... then they weren't." You looked up at Eddie, "Guess I stuck around because I was hoping he'd go back to the way he once was." Eddie understood, he'd never been in anything like that himself but he knew how hard it was getting out of a toxic cycle and he knew how easy it was to see the good and ignore the bad. "Why'd you agree to do this for me?" You asked him after a moment.

"I'm a sucker when a pretty girl asks me to do something." He looked to you, brown eyes boring into yours and once again, you could feel those damn butterflies.

"You're just saying that." You brushed him off. Why would someone like Eddie Munson think you were pretty? He was only in this to annoy your ex, he wasn't doing this for you.

It's not real, (y/n).

Eddie frowned at you, "Who are you to say what I mean or not?" He asked, voice verging on serious, "I actually think you're really freaking pretty, fucking gorgeous more like. When you asked me, course I jumped at the chance... You looked at me with those pretty eyes and how could I say no?" Eddie saw the way your face softened, the way your eyes got glassy and my god, you looked so pretty. Those eyes. He'd do anything you asked if it meant you'd look at him with that sparkle in those fucking gorgeous eyes. He swallowed before tearing his eyes off of you to look out to the crowd, he wasn't used to that weird feeling in his stomach.

"No one's ever told me I have pretty eyes." The way your voice is soft and quiet makes Eddie's heart pang. He hates that you've not been treated right, that you've been made to feel worthless and ugly. His jaw clenched, muscle feathering, as he thought about it. You didn't deserve it, plain and simple.

He drained the last of his beer as you got lost in your thoughts, leaning against him. It felt natural. Despite not wanting to get your hopes up, the hope was burning strong in your stomach. Eddie had done more for you in less than a day than Ben had done in months of dating. You'd asked him to be your fake boyfriend but a large part of you was hoping that it wasn't all fake. It was a moment later when he cleared his throat and asked, "Ready for dancing round two?"

"Oh absolutely." You let Eddie pull you up and lead you back into the crowds. You liked the way his rings pressed against your fingers, cold melting soothing warm hands.

Again, Eddie began to ballroom dance with you in a very dramatic way, hands intertwined and arms stuck straight out as you paraded about the dance floor. Around you, people moved to give you space as others gave you dirty looks.

"What?!" Eddie beamed at them. He was used to their stares, used to the weird faces they pulled whenever he did something that stepped outside of the norm. He didn't care. Normal was overrated anyway, "Never thought about having a little fun before?!"

Your laughter was loud as the two of you danced about. You blamed the warmth that rushed to your cheeks every time he looked at you to be fault of the one beer you'd drank but even you knew deep down it wasn't that causing it. It was something else, more rather someone. Eddie spun you around but it was too fast and you hadn't been expecting it so you ended up crashing into something hard... or rather, someone.

Your laughter ceased as two firm hands planted themselves on your shoulders and steadied you, "I don't know what kind of game you're playing," a voice hissed to you, "but whatever it is, I suggest you stop."

Your blood ran cold and your heart began to pound as your head raised to look Ben Watters, your ex-boyfriend, dead in the eyes. This had been the plan, you'd wanted Ben to see you, you'd wanted to rub it in his face that you were lovable and that someone else could want you but now that you were here, now that he was here sneering down at you... you didn't want to do this anymore. It was like he had this ability to give you a look and make you feel as though were so completely insignificant to him. You'd been brave all night with Eddie but now that Ben was here, you wanted the ground to swallow you up. This was a terrible idea. You wanted to rush back to Eddie, have him take you home but you were frozen in place under Ben's glare.

Eddie, who'd been waiting for you to spin back, noticed that you were suddenly frozen in place and when he looked in front of you to the taller, angry looking boy he realised that this must be Ben judging by the glare he was giving you and judging by the way you completely froze in place. Eddie's grin fell. He didn't like the way you had completely shut down in front of him, that wasn't normal.

"Everything okay, Princess?" He asked as he took a few steps to approach you. His hand fell to the small of your back causing you to jump slightly in surprise.

Ben's jaw feathered as he clenched his teeth together, "You think I really buy this shit?" He scoffed. He never once looked to Eddie. His eyes were trained on you, he knew that he still had a form of control over you so of course he was going to try and manipulate his way out of this, "You and Eddie 'the Freak' Munson? What's the game plan here, babe?"

"Don't call me that!" Your voice was a shrill snap which surprised all three of you and caused some of the people in the crowds around you to look over.

Ben rolled his eyes, "You always loved when I called you babe, babe-"

"Dude," Eddie half stepped in front of you so that he was covering half of you with his body. He could tell immediately that this guy was bad vibes, he was just bad news, "she asked you to stop. I'm not gonna ask twice."

It was then that Ben's eyes finally moved from yours to glare at Eddie. Eddie didn't flinch, "Who do you think you are, freak? Why do you even care?"

"Cause I'm her boyfriend, you asswipe."

Ben laughed, humourless and loud, "Boyfriend?" He looked back to you, "Is this you trying to prove a point about what I said when we broke up?" Around you more people had started to gather taking notice of the fight that was brewing in the middle of Benny's old diner, "You're trying to prove what I said wrong." He could see through it so easily and you wished that you didn't bother with any of this but Eddie was on your side and Eddie wasn't going to back down.

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, glancing back at you, "And what did you say then?"

Ben leaned in attempting to get in your face but Eddie partially blocked him. Eddie's hand instinctively shot outwards, acting as a barrier between you and Ben and you immediately clung to him, fingernails digging into his denim jacket. This wasn't how you'd wanted the night to go. You'd wanted Ben to see that you'd proved him wrong and then you'd wanted him to fuck off... but you knew him better and you should've known that he wouldn't have been happy leaving things the way that they were. He had to get in there, had to put his five cents in, had to get the last word, had to intimidate and scare you into submission... but Eddie was here.

"I said that you were too fat and too unlovable to get another boyfriend. No one would ever do what I did for you."

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, hard and fast, and you could feel your eyes welling with tears. It's then you realised just how many people were surrounding the two of you, watching with curious hazy eyes. Your grip was tight on Eddie's arm and you gave it a gentle tug as if to say 'let's go, let's go home'. Eddie blinked. Was this guy for real?

"I see you've still not taken any of the advice I gave you either," Ben continued, "I see you've not lost any of the weight... maybe even put on some more judging by how tight that skirt is."

You don't know what came over you, maybe it was the confidence that Eddie had instilled in you throughout the night, maybe it was the fight or flight adrenaline, maybe it was the fact you didn't want to cry in front of hundreds of teenagers but instead of just taking it, instead of just letting him treat you like shit, you puffed out your chest and as he was laughing to his friends, you said loudly, "What are you talking about, Ben? I dropped 160 pounds when I dumped your ass."

Eddie's jaw dropped. Ben choked on his laughter. There was a chorus of 'oooooh damn'.

And you felt pretty damn proud with yourself.

That was until Ben turned towards you slowly, "What'd you say to me?" All the confidence you'd had moments before vanished, completely vanished off of the face of the earth. He reminded of you the time you'd accidently smashed a window and your dad towered over you, glaring and breathing hard. He made you feel small the same way that Ben did. Ben's nostrils flared but before he could do or say anything, Eddie pulled back, hand clenched into a fist, before-

THWACK!

You gasped.

"Fucking Ozzy!" Eddie cursed as he shook out his hand which radiated pain.

He'd punched Ben square in the jaw effectively throwing Ben backwards into his friends as blood dribbled from his now burst lip, "What the fuck, man?!" Ben yelled, shoving his friends off of him before squaring back up to Eddie.

Eddie never backed down, never once did he flinch or give any signs of weakness. He knew exactly how to annoy jerks like Ben, knew how to rile them up and knew how to get them all hot and bothered. Eddie grinned, "One day you're going to realise that (y/n) was the best damn thing that ever happened to you and when that day comes, I hope you hate yourself." He leaned back on his feet rocking as Ben stood, blood trickling down his chin, "You're gonna stay the hell away from (y/n). You see her walking down the halls, you're gonna turn and go the other way. You're never going to speak to her, look at her or even think about her ever again."

"Oh yeah? Says who, Munson?"

Eddie laughed, "I do, Watters." He leaned in close, "She told me what you're into... How do you think the rest of the school would react if they knew?" He quirked an eyebrow and pulled back relishing in the way Ben's eyes widened.

Ben's face dropped and his eyes darted between you and Eddie, a look of fear prominent in them, "You-You told him?"

Going along with it, you shrugged and smiled at him, "Oops... Sorry."

Eddie's hand found yours, clasping it tightly, "Stay the fuck away from us, Benny Boy." He clapped Ben on the shoulder before he turned and pulled you back through the crowds. It was only when you were being tugged away from him that you breathed a sigh of relief, nerves in your stomach fading.

As you were on your way out, a blur of faces merging into one, your friend caught your arm, "I love him!" She hissed to you, pointing at Eddie, before she let go and let Eddie lead you out of Benny's diner. The cold air hit you hard, breathing life into you, as you and ran with Eddie to his van hands still clasped tightly together.

It wasn't until you got into his van that the two of you burst out laughing. It was ridiculous, the whole thing, and you couldn't believe any of that had actually just happened. It took you a few minutes to calm down.

"Holy shit!"

Eddie laughed, eyes once again shining with joy, "You can say that again... I can't believe you said that to him. What was it again?"

"I dropped 160 pounds when I dumped his ass." You were quite proud of that line to be fair. Usually you were the sort of person to think of a comeback two days too late so you were quite impressed with your quick wit. It was then the whole reality hit you and the laughter completely faded, "I... I was terrified. I thought he was going to hit me or hurt me or something."

"Well, he didn't," Eddie's hand fell to your knee giving a light squeeze, "and I don't think he'll bother you again."

"How did you know that he has a kinda weird kink?" You asked him with a hint of a smile.

Eddie shrugged, "Most guys like that do. Act all big and tough but they usually have some sort of dirty secret. Guessed."

It was then you looked down at Eddie's hand which was still on your knee, "Oh, shit, Eds! Your hand!" His knuckles were red with a slight purple tinge, they'd be bruised up pretty bad in the morning.

He stretched his fingers out, wiggling them, "Ach, they're fine."

"Lemme check." You picked up his hand, flat against your palm as you checked it over, fingers dancing over his, dancing over his rings, "Good thing you weren't wearing bigger rings, could've seriously done some damage." Eddie licked his lips, watching as you inspected his hand, turning it every way to make sure there was no real lasting damage. He liked how careful you were with him, soft touches and real questions of care. Does that hurt? Can you bend it? We'll need to ice it. He cleared his throat and your cheeks immediately burned as you realised you'd been holding his hand for over a minute now. Quickly, you dropped it, "Sorry."

He shook his head, "Are you okay?" He asked, ducking his head to catch your eyes, "The stuff he said in there was pretty fucked..."

You shrugged and gave a sardonic laugh, "With Ben... I'm used to that kinda stuff as sad as that is."

Eddie frowned, "The stuff he said isn't true you know. You're not unlovable or anything like that."

"Though he was right that I have put on weight," you looked down at your outfit, seeing the denim skirt that you wore bulging, "is it really that noticeable?"

"Who cares if it is?" Eddie asked, voice verging on annoyed, "Stop letting one asshole's opinion stop you from seeing how fucking stunning you actually are, (y/n)." Eddie groaned, running a hand through his hair, "Your body, your size it doesn't matter. You're fucking gorgeous with your pretty eyes and lovely smile. You radiate goodness and joy and being around you is like being high just without the actual drugs. You're- I've only really spoken to you for today and already, I can see how much of an amazing person you really are, (y/n). You deserve so much more than that, than him. You deserve someone who would treat you right, treat you like the princess you are, treat you like you should be treated." Eddie's heart was beating fast as he paused and took a breath. His fingers fidgeted with the rings that adorned them, "Someone like me."

You frowned, head slowly turning to meet his gaze, eyes full of awe before you realised that technically Eddie was still your fake boyfriend. You shook your head, "You can drop the fake boyfriend act, it's okay. It was a fucking stupid idea-"

"(y/n)," his voice was loud but he wasn't shouting. His hand moved to yours, holding it gently as he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, "It's not an act. I mean everything I've said to you over the last day."

You shook your head, "I-I don't understand, Eds."

Eddie smiled slightly, "I'm suggesting the possibility of me not being your fake boyfriend anymore. It's obviously pretty quick to put a label on it immediately but I'm saying that I want to try this out, I'd like to take you out on some dates, try and win you over."

"Wait, wait, wait-" you shook your head as you tried to process everything that Eddie was saying, "you're saying that you want to date me and potentially be my real boyfriend?"

"Is that so hard to understand, Princess?" He laughed, "I like you, what can I say. Give me a chance to prove that you are worthy and deserving of love." You couldn't quite believe what he was saying. Eddie Munson wanted to date you? You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Eddie raised his eyebrows, "Huh, you really weren't expecting that were you? What do you say?"

A rather large, goofy grin tugged your lips upwards as a giggle escaped your lips, "I'd say thank god since I've wanted to kiss you all bloody day, Munson."

Eddie grinned, rather proud of your admission, "Yeah?" He asked. You nodded and began to shift your position so that you were angled towards him, "Oh, no way, no kissing until out first date." He teased with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, "Shut up and kiss me, Eds."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded before his hands cupped your cheeks, rings cold against your flushed cheeks, before he leaned in painfully slowly. He was enjoying making you wait. You huffed before grabbing a handful of his Hellfire Club shirt and pulling him to you, crashing your lips together.

Yeah, you thought as he deepened the kiss, this is what it's supposed to feel like.

The kiss wasn't like an awkward first kiss like they usually are. The two of you seemed to meld together, already in sync from the get go, in perfect pace and rhythm with the other, tongues swirling and hands caressing the other's cheeks.

It was all too quick when you pulled back, nodding quickly, "I quite like the idea of you being my real boyfriend, yeah. I'm down, oh god Eds, I'm so down."

Eddie's laugh was loud, "Fake boyfriends never stay fake for long, eh?" He joked before pulling you in for another kiss.

#plus size reader #plus size series #plus size #reader insert #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #drabble #one shot #os #stranger things one shot #stranger things imagine #stranger things #st imagine #st one shot #st #st os #pretty eyes series #pretty eyes

[neobora]

i want to change. i cried just rn. i'm just wasting my time w trying to manifest my desires. i don't know how to change this fucking situation because i dwelled on the fact i have the most terrible circumstances and because of that my subsconcious got used to it. I don't know how to get out of my comfort zone and victim mindset. I have been consuming information for years and do nothing but feel sorry for myself and thinking i'm in a hopeless situation. I know this isn't going to get me anywhere, but I don't know how to get out of this mentality. i just want to fucking beat myself up i'm so stupid. i'm tired of my same routine. i woke up. i go to the tumblr. i go to the reddit. i go to the amino and read 83928 things everyday. sometimes i feel like i'm crazy and all of those loa manifwst stuff or not real.

did i overcomplicated loa😭

oh dear😭 give yourself a break, honestly! manifesting isnt supposed to be stressful, but fulfilling. again, the only change that will be reflected is a change in SELF. you can see how well the 3d is doing it’s job at reflecting you rn. but it doesn‘t matter who the outer world says you are, you can ALWAYS change within just by deciding to. do you want to live like this? no. then stop! make it clear to you that you are the ONLY CREATOR and the only one who is being reflected. take responsibility for creating what you see outside of you, which also means that you can change SELF anytime you want to. imagination is the only reality and the only time that exists is NOW, self doesnt care about your past, it only cares about NOW. who are you right now? that will reflect.

i know it can be tough completely changing self, often youre even scared of letting go and assuming nothing can hurt you. at one point i even realized i was scared of actually seeing a change in the 3d. but that fear is created by you and no one can stop giving it so much credit except you.

stop consuming so much info, it‘s all the same anyways. choose desire, assume you have it, persist, done. the only thing that helped me really was actually FEELING LIKE I AM IN CONTROL OVER MY MIND. you can read anything you want, as many times as you want but you won‘t get it if you don‘t feel it true. edward art’s reddit series honestly helped me so much, but i actually feel different about the lines now than when i started reading it because i started giving MYSELF, my INNER SELF all the power. but tbh nothing on tumblr really explains it in as much detail as this series, it really gets the point across. if you want to read something about the loa, then go for this instead of posts that just repeat themselves. especially the posts about fear are eye-opening.

honestly in my opinion it doesn‘t matter what your subconscious does nor should you worry about it, it accepts literally ANYTHING to be true if you have faith. there is no past and no future, it doesnt matter. the only thing there is to do is change self and stick with it, no matter what happens. you are the only one who can save yourself.

again, no one can tell you how to feel, or feel for you, you have to give yourself the freedom of feeling but yourself. you are always able to change, it just depends on wether you decide to or not. decide to change and stick with it, no matter what. once you actually internalise that you create everything so you do not have to feel (identify with) your fears and doubts, but can instead feel (know) that you ALREADY ARE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE IN IMAGINATION, it gets easier and easier. but you must have the courage not to look back and fall into old states. why? because you don’t want to! fall in love with your new state and leaving gets harder and harder. but when you do, remind yourself that the 3d is literally just your mind. you don’t have to identify with anything you don‘t like. from there you can create what you WANT.

#my asks #loa #law of assumption #manifesting

[jimhopperlova]

sexting | david harbour (18+)

gif source: the redheads diaries

omg hi you party people!! i am back (finally) with a special spicy multi series that hopefully you all will enjoy!! im very excited to write again and i miss you guys so much!! let me know if you want any requests.

Pairing(s): pervy!david and bratty!femreader

Warning(s): flirty texts, masturbation (f), masturbation (m), phone sex, squirting, degradation

Summary: when going out to a employee party at a local bar one night, david saw you amongst his female coworkers and hadn’t met you before. that night, he made it his night’s goal to retrieve your number one way or another.

‘Hey there.’ you received a text from an unknown number after you had gotten home. living in a one bedroom apartment, you were hardly able to afford the place all to yourself. but you could atleast go out with your friends who were having an employee party at the local bar. your friends were all supportive in the most ways they can, even bought your drinks for you. despite you not being an employee, your friends still wanted you to go out with them and have some fun. you wre blessed to have great friends. after getting out of the shitty night club outfit, you plopped on some pajama pants and put on an oversized t-shirt.

you then opened up your phone, looking at the number with the text message. who was this? you tried your hardest to think, but nothing was popping in your head. you were skeptical, but decided to reply anyway.

‘uh.. hey there. who’s this?’ you replied to the message. you didn’t think they would text back right away, so you sat your phone down. you grabbed the remote and before you knew it, your phone dinged. you picked it up and read the message.

‘My name is David. I got your number from your friend, Missy.’ this now mysterious man replied. you facepalmed yourself at your friend, kinda creeped out and also angry at your friend. you quickly dialed up your friend, hoping she would answer.

“(y/n)! what’s up?! i’m drunk as fuuuuuuuuck.” your friend missy giggled into the line and you rolled your eyes at her response.

“thank god you’re home. hey, uh.. i got a message from a.. david. do you know him?” you asked missy who only giggled, before letting out a hiccup.

“ohhhh… david. he’s fuckin’ hot. he had his eyes on you, missy. oh wait, m-my name is missy. haaaa!” missy laughed and you wanted to punch her in the face for being so drunk. “buuuut.. y-yea. david works in the office. he’s uh.. the-the psy-psy… fuck. oh yeah, psychologist! yeah, t-thats the word.” missy explained, and your heart pounded. the man that’s a psychologist is single? and yes, your friend missy will fuck anything that walks, but.. if she exuberates on hot (and she’s drunk), that means he’s hot. right?

“oh.. okay, thanks missy. eat some bread and get your ass to sleep.” you told her before saying goodbye and hanging up. you lifted your knee up to your face before resting your arm against the knee. you absentmindedly started to bite your nail, deep in thought. this texting could be fun.

‘hey, david. i’m (y/n). why did missy give you my number?’ you asked david, before you left the messages open and waited patiently. you watched the bubbles appear almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for your response.

‘I saw you in the bar, and you looked beautiful. Thought I would shoot my shot.’ david replied. you didn’t even know what this man looked like. you had an idea.

‘well, mr. david. i don’t know what you look like. send a pic?’ you texted, kind of nervous. what if he wasn’t hot. what if he wasn’t what you had pictured in your mind? you had pictured kind of chisled, maybe had a little beard. you hoped he looked atleast decent. suddenly, the bubbles were typing and then there was a picture.

‘Currently sitting here enjoying this Ben and Jerry’s. Cigarette’s fake lol.’ david replied, and you couldn’t help but look at the picture.

you tried to identify every single thing about this man. his beard, his hair, even tried to get a glimpse of his chest. he didn’t send a flattering pic, but maybe that was how he was. goofy. that could be even better.

‘oh wow, mr. david. who knew a psychologist eats ice cream in bed after drinking at 1 o’clock in the morning? 😜’ yes. you were being flirty. but you couldn’t lie. despite the act of trying to be goofy, you could tell this man was hot. even better, he was your type. despite missy in her drunken state, she knew exactly what you were looking for.

‘So Missy told you my profession. What do you think of that?’ david asked you, and you couldn’t help but blush. of course this man has money, but you didn’t give a single fuck about that. in fact, you more were thinking of how good of a person he was for trying to help people.

‘i think it’s great what you’re doing for people. i’m sure you went through school for the money, but psychologists are one of the greatest gifts on the earth. especially for the kids. you are a brave man, mr. david.’ you replied to him, and more bubbles popped up. you were quite excited to continue this conversation, and you really didn’t understand why.

‘Well I do what I can. I like making people smile and helping them. Say, where’s my pic? I sent you one.’ david asked, and you got nervous suddenly. should you send one? you ended up doing so, of you in the oversized t-shirt and the long pajama pants. you held up a peace sign, showing you were getting ready to sleep. you sent the pic in nerves and once again, david replied almost immediately. ‘Haha. Sleepy already? I thought I could talk to you more.’ david replied, and your face instantly blushed.

‘yeaaaaah. i was the dd for the night. those girls drove me crazy.’ you replied.

‘Oh yeah. Your friends are quite the chatty ones.’ david replied before you saw the bubbles yet again. ‘Well, I’ll let you head to bed. I’ll speak with you tomorrow. Sleep dreams.’

‘you too. nice talking with ya.’ you replied to david before setting your phone down. you trotted your way to your bedroom and got comfy in your queen size bed before shutting your eyes softly. you couldn’t help but think of david now. was he wanting to get to know you? you hated to admit it but you pictured him in bed with you. you just met him and you’re already thinking of that? perv.

the next morning came and you yawned, stretching slightly to try and wake up. you need a shower and you felt gross. but before that were to happen, you wanted to check your phone to see if a specific someone messaged you.

‘Good morning. Just picturing you here with me. 😉’ the text was sent at 7 o’clock this morning by david. it was currently 8 as you had slept in, and you didn’t work today. your face emitted a deep blush and you realized you had to meet him in person soon.

‘good morning. oh really? well we will have to change that soon, shall we?’ you texted him back before going into the bathroom. you brought your phone with you so you could listen to music. the main reason was to text with david. you started to undress yourself before receiving yet another text.

‘Yes, indeed. Where’s my good morning pic?’ david texted you, and you instantly giggled. your current self was undressed, and you thought that you shouldn’t take a picture of you naked. who knows what he would do with that.

‘well, i’m a little.. preoccupied at the moment so you’re gonna have to wait. besides, i didn’t get one.’ you texted back and he instantly read it. after a moment, the bubbles popped up yet again and he replied.

‘You want a good morning pic? Why didn’t you just say so?’ and then he sent one. it was a picture of him laying down in what you presumed his bed, visibly shirtless this time. he had a smug smirk on his face, and that made your face beam. ‘Send a pic of you right now. I did it, so it’s only fair.’ he replied afterwards, and your face was still red. you conteplated, before emitting a fuck it attitude. you sent a picture of your shirtless self, using your free hand to cover up your nipples.

‘there, ya happy ya big goof?’ you texted him back and it took him a minute to respond. the longest he took was at this moment.

‘Very much so. Thanks for the trust.’ david replied before he continued to type. ‘What are you doing that’s having you strip?’

‘jumping in the shower. i won’t be too long.’ you replied, and you scrolled up a bit to look at his smug smirk. you imagined him doing that right now, considering the flirty texts you were sending back and forth.

‘Ah, shower. Well try and not think of me in there. 😉’ david texted before you emitted yet another deep blush. you hadn’t even met this man, and here you are. basically being all googly eyed in response to his pictures and statements.

‘no promises. 😜’ you replied before setting your phone back down. you got undressed the rest of the way before jumping in the shower, feeling the hot water embrace your naked body. it felt good, almost too good. and despite david not telling you to think of him, you did. your hands roamed your body, picturing it was him im your mind. you reached your clit, and started to rub along the sensitive flesh. you rubbed circles, moaning softly at the way you felt yourself getting hornier by the minute. you imagined his beard tickling your neck as he laid kisses along your jaw, trailing down your body and to your breasts. you imagined him licking your nipples, caging them with his teeth softly. he bit down, but not too hard. you moaned some more, touching yourself to the thought of him. you were already getting close, just from the thought of him.

while you were preoccupied, you heard your phone go off. you tried not to think of it, and continued your masturbation party. little did you know it was a text from david, and a very specific text.

‘Do you want me to come over there? I’ll make you feel good.’ was what it read, but you didn’t know it yet. little did you know, david was also rubbing out one to the thought of you. he just imagined how good you would suck his cock, and how good you would take it. he imagined you being tight, almost like a perfect puzzle piece that he’s always longed for. when he didn’t get a response, he texted again. ‘No response which means you’re.. busy. Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?’ he texted you, and felt his own self beam with excitement. he finally set his phone down to leave you with your shower as his hand continued to stroke his cock. it was so hard, throbbing with need. he wanted you so bad. he knew you didn’t know him though, and you would be weirded out he had imagined.

to his surprise, you responded to his text already. despite you being in the shower and thinking of david, you couldn’t help but respond. you poked your head and arm out of the shower, drying off your hand in hopes to not get your phone wet. you read the texts and honestly.. you wanted him over here. but not yet.

‘mmm. what is it you think i’m thinking of?’ you texted back david, and to that he instantly replied.

‘Oh I think you know. Are you thinking of me pleasing you right now?’ david asked you, and you waited a moment to reply.

‘and what if i am?’ you asked. david typed with his free hand, slowly continuing to stroke his cock while he texted you.

‘I could call you, and tell you all the things I want to do to you. That is.. if you want.’ he replied. a phone call? you didn’t think it would be this fast that you got to hear his voice.

‘let me actually shower real quick, and then.. we can call.’ you replied and set your phone down. you took the fastest shower you have ever took before. your heart was beating fast as every minute past. you cleaned every part of you, trying your best not to take too long. finally you were finished. you decided to not get dressed in your day clothes just yet. you imagined you were about to.. touch yourself. ‘okay, i’m back in my room all showered. call when you went.’

upon seeing you respond, david immediately gave you a call. you watched the number pop up and let in ring for a moment before you picked up and put it on speaker.

‘uh.. hi?’ you spoke. you could hear david’s low but beautiful chuckle before he responded.

‘hello. how was your shower?’ he asked through the phone. his voice was intoxicating. his voice was low but yet had personality in itself. you definitely could cum to his voice.. if that’s what you think was about to happen.

‘it was um.. it was good.’ you responded. you heard his chuckle again, before he responded.

‘don’t be nervous, just relax. what are you doing right now?’ he asked through the phone. you swallowed past the nerves that formed in your stomach before you responded.

‘just.. laying here.’ you giggled out and to that you heard his chuckle again. he liked to laugh it seemed.

‘yeah? what are you thinking about?’ david asked you. his hand was on his continuing his movements from before, listening to your soft voice. he imaged your moans in his brain, and he was dedicated to make you feel good. as much as he could, anyway.

‘um.. y-you..’ you replied hesitantly. david smiled like he was a kid in a candy store again. from that sentence alone, he continued to stroke his cock, nice and slow.

‘mm.. and what about?’ he asked you through the phone. you had to bite your own lip from letting our a squeak from how sexy he sounded. you reached down to touch your clit, before rubbing soft and slow circles. you accidentally let a moan slip from your mouth, and david had to chuckle of course. ‘ah. i see.. what do you want me to do to you?’

‘um.. f-fuck me..’ you spoke just above a whisper, just enough for david to understand. to that statement, he added more pressure to his cock.

‘yeah? how do you want me to fuck you? from behind as i pull your hair? or missionary, so i can look at that beautiful face becoming undone in front of me?’ david asked you. you had to really conceal your moans now. he was talking so dirty, that it was driving you mad. you wanted to see him in person, but.. this made you feel so naughty. so dirty.. like you shouldn’t be doing this.

‘i w-want you to.. fuck me from behind, david..’ you whispered out. in that moment, he knew exactly how freaky you were. he liked that. he wanted you to be his personal little fucktoy. ‘i want you.. to use me..’ you continued, and david let out a soft groan. that made your tummy flip, imagining him groaning against your ear as he pounded into you from behind.

‘who knew you were such a whore? just wanting to get fucked..’ david groaned out softly as he continued to stroke his cock. this time, he was going even faster now. ‘go ahead and enter a finger. i want to hear you moan for me..’

‘y-yes, sir,’ you shivered with anticipation before you slowly entered a finger inside of yourself. you let out a soft moan as you continued to picture the man entering one of his own from the other side of the phone. you just started talking to this man last night and you were already dripping to the thought of him pleasing you. were you really that desperate? ‘o-oh.. david.. it feels so.. so good.’ you sighed out, and to that he let out a soft moan of himself. david has never done this before, and it was really helping him get close. closer to cumming than he would have thought.

‘i like it when you call me sir. it really makes you that much more desperate..’ david spoke lowly as he grunted while stroking his cock. it was much faster now, and he was working up a sweat. he was going to cum soon, and he wanted you to know. ‘enter another finger, babygirl. i want you to imagine that i’m fucking you.’

‘oh- f-fuck..’ you whined out as you slipped in another finger. with the continuous motions of you entering two fingers inside of you and one rubbing against your clit, you were getting close. ‘s-sir.. i’m-i’m getting.. c-close..’ you whined out, wanting to let david know.

‘cum for me, babygirl. whenever you’re ready. i want you to scream my name as loud as you can.’ david groaned out, as his dick was throbbing of more, but it knew that this was the best it was going to get. just a bit longer..

‘david! da- fuck!’ you yelled out, feeling that knot start to untie. before you knew it, you were screaming with pleasure, the juices from your pussy squirting out of you. ‘oh my-fuck..’ you sighed out.

‘yeah? fuck.. you did so good.. so-fucking good..’ david groaned out. when he knew when he was about to cum, he made sure to angle his cock onto his stomach. ‘i’m going to cum for you. where do you- do you want this cum?’ david continued to growl out and you instantly obliged with answering.

‘in my mouth, sir. i want to taste every drip of you..’ you moaned out. david immediately pictured your mouth gaping wide open, ready for his seed to spill all over your tongue. with that in mind, he came all over his stomach, his cock twitching a bit as he slowed down his jerking. you could tell he came with how vocal he was, and that made your pussy wet again.

‘fuck.. you did so good, babygirl,’ david spoke lowly as his breath hitched. he sounded like he was out of breath, and it was all your fault. ‘we should do this in person sometime, no?’

‘yeah, that would be.. that would be amazing.’ you replied. you really wanted to meet david in person. you only gotten a couple of pictures, and maybe that isn’t what he looked like. you were almost positive he was telling the truth, though. you were also out of breath, panting a bit as you looked at the soaked juices on the bed.

‘well. tomorrow’s friday, so i don’t work saturday. why don’t i take you out tomorrow night? 8 o’clock?’ david asked through the phone. hour face immediately brightened up, emitting a deep red. again. your heart thumped in your chest as butterflies hugged your stomach.

‘yeah, that sounds.. that sounds great. can we make it for 9, though? i have to work until 7 and i want plenty of time to get ready for you.’ you asked david, and to that he chuckled.

‘of course, i will wait as long as i have to. you have a great day today, and i’ll continue to text you if you let me. besides, gotta shower myself and head into work. it’s my own practice, so i make my own schedule.’ david chuckled and to that you giggled.

‘well i’m super glad you made it this far to where you don’t have a boss. you have a good day too and please.. please text me.’ you told him. and to that he smiled and said a goodbye and hung up. your chest tightened and you realized something. you just came from just a man’s voice.. no, you squirted. what will happen tomorrow night?

[violetsaffron5]

Psychotherapy

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Pairing: Zenin Naoya x f!Reader

Naoya is forced to go see a therapist to help his attitude so he can find a wife.

Words: 4503

Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Spit Kink, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/Sub, Edging, Degradation

Early 2017

You’re on a beach in Malaysia; ocean waves crashing playfully against the shore as you sunbathe on the white sandy beach. Palm trees stand tall and proud, providing just enough shade, dancing ever so slightly with the soft breeze coming off the water.

“What man lets their woman have a job? Is there something wrong with your pussy?”

Birds fly overhead, dipping down to the sea to catch their next meal, feathers illuminated by the rays of the sun. Others sing the song of their people as they pass by, on their way to the next stop with the flock.

“There’s only one thing worse than a woman, and that’s a woman who can read.”

Is this son of a bitch the CEO of misogyny? Holy shit.

Whoever told you to meditate to relax when you have a horrible patient is a goddamn liar because when they open their stupid mouths, it’s ruined. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself, finally opening your eyes to find a pair of sharp, cynical brown eyes staring back at you.

If you had realized this session was going to be with Naoya fucking Zen’in, you would have noped your way out of that so fast. This is what you get for not reviewing your case files due to the recent influx of patients.

Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.

“I took many years of-”

“Therapy isn’t a real profession anyway.” The blonde douchebag interrupts, waving you off as he sprawls on the chaise in front of the window in your office.

It took him all of 30 seconds to begin pissing you off. Barging in during your last session with a client demanding his start immediately, all the while using phrases like “do you know who I am?” and “wait until my father hears about this.” You rolled your eyes so hard it’s surprising they aren’t on the floor right now.

The window he’s next to looks out to a beautiful, quiet, wooded scene. If you killed him, nobody would be able to see you bury the body, save for the animals. And they wouldn’t say anything. Most would probably come by to pick at the fleshy parts of his skin, assisting with removing evidence making it harder to identify that it was you who had murdered the heir to the Zen’in clan.

It would be easy. Incredibly so. You’re unsuspecting. There’s nothing stopping you from walking over to him and stabbing your pen right into his eye. People think of you as the quiet shy type, when in reality you choose to keep to yourself to avoid being part of the office gossip, and if you had to admit it, you’re a little tired of all the shit your patients say too, which only adds to the quiet, unsuspecting demeanor.

“I took a psych class once, so I totally understand how to analyze people.”

“It’s not my fault those women are mad. I never agreed to be exclusive.”

“I didn’t kill the men at the fair. My henchmen did.”

If you played your cards right, you could probably talk Satoru Gojo into helping you cover it up. You haven’t seen this yourself, but word around the water cooler is things are so bad between them, that when they’re here for their sessions at the same time (the rare times Gojo actually shows up on time), they have to sit in different waiting rooms.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and kiss your teeth, choosing to ignore his comment like the goddamn professional you are. You didn’t get your master’s degree to be talked down to by someone with too thick eyeliner and too many piercings looking like a failed alt emo boy.

It’s probably best to ignore his snide remarks and continue with the session. The sooner it gets started, the sooner it can be over, “Naoya, wh-”

“ Master Naoya,” he interjects, clearly annoyed you’re not referring to him the way he deems worthy.

“Right….” There is no way in hell you’re referring to him as ‘Master’ in any lifetime. “Anyway. Whose idea was it for you to be here today?”

You don’t need to review his case file to know why Naoya’s in therapy. Everyone knows. In order to take over as clan head when his father passes, he needs to marry, except he can’t get anyone to agree to it, because he’s literal human trash. Hence the mandatory therapy to try and… remediate some of his issues.

“Isn’t that your “job” to know?” he uses air quotes.

You were hoping if he said it aloud, admitted it, then it would act as a sort of eye opener for him or at least a first step. Looks like that’s not the case, he’s content continuing to be a shitty person.

“This is why women are only good for breeding.” He groans, rolling his eyes.

“Holy shit. What the fuck is your problem?” You ask in disbelief and the words vomit from your lips before you can stop them.

He furrows his brows, turning his head to meet your gaze before eyeing you up and down. He makes a point to stop and stare at your tits and lips, not bothering to meet your eyes again.

“Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?” He seethes, “a wench like you needs to be put in her place,” he looks you over once again before his lips curl into a wicked smirk. “You’re decent enough looking. I guess I’d be willing to take one for the team to teach you a lesson.”

Fuck professionalism. This guy needs knocked down a peg or ten. “If I wanted a good lay, I’d visit Gojo. Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even measure up to Toji on your best day.”

“I can fuck whores like you ten times better than either of them could,” he spits back.

“I hear Gojo’s a generous lover.” Why bring Gojo into this, specifically? Just to stir the pot. Rile him up and piss him off, just as he’s done to you. Everyone knows the stories of the infamous playboy. Huge cock. Can go all night. Has a strict ladies first policy when it comes to getting off.

“I bet you don’t even know where the clitoris is.” He’s definitely the kind of guy who only cares about only his pleasure; it would come as no surprise if he’s never gotten a woman off before.

He sneers, “every single one of my servants comes crawling back for more.”

“Weird way to say cousins.”

He stares at you, fire burning in his eyes. Anyone else would probably think he looks shocked, and maybe he is, just a little. That a lowly window has the audacity to speak to a sorcerer this way, let alone the next head to one of the big three.

Shit. Are you gonna do this? Are you gonna challenge him so he’ll prove it?

Yes. Yes you are and you can literally feel the feminism ascending out of your body as you make up your mind.

Standing, you unbutton a few buttons from the top of your blouse to accentuate the swells of your breasts and loosen the knot on your ascot, slipping it over your head as you make your way over to Naoya, sliding it down his neck and tightening maybe a little too tight.

Leaning down, warm breath tickling the shell of his ear causing goosebumps to form, you whisper, “prove it.” He wastes no time in grabbing your free hand and placing it on his erection with a pleased smirk.

Of course he’s turned on. Probably thinking you’ll easily submit to him.

As you stroke his clothed cock, he lets out a quiet, satisfied moan as your other hand pulls the ascot a little tighter, no longer worrying if it’s too constricting.

Honestly, if he died, you wouldn’t care. Satisfying for you. Humiliating for him.

“Be a good boy and open wide,” he glares, clenching his jaw in a surprisingly quiet refusal. Letting go of the ascot, you grab him by the hair, forcing his head back until he opens just wide enough for you to gather saliva and spit it in his mouth.

“Swallow.” You demand, his eyes wide with shock. Once he regains his composure, he flips you over, slamming your back against the couch.

“I’m going to fuck your goddamn brains out,” he snaps, “and you’re going to regret spitting in my mouth like a filthy slut.” Naoya grabs one end of the ascot, pulling harshly until it comes untied, tossing it aside and you watch it float to the ground next to the chaise before turning your attention back to him.

There’s tension in the air, as the two of you stare at one another, swallowing thickly before your lips crash together, the sensation immediately sends a jolt between your thighs. The kiss is aggressive and greedy; more tongue and teeth than actual kiss and part of you is still shocked you’re going through with this.

As he pulls away, he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, hard enough to leave a bruise, still trying to prove his dominance over you. Then in a move that takes you off guard, he trails several nips and kisses down your neck and collarbone. While he does this, you lift your hips and pull your pencil skirt up, so he’s not tempted to rip it off, letting it pool at your hips. At this moment, you’re incredibly thankful you wore your lace bra and panties today, even if he doesn’t deserve to see them.

“Spread your legs,” he snarls, forcing them open on his own and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, making you whimper and arch your back due to lack of proper preparation. He quickly pumps his fingers while angling them perfectly. You let out a quiet whine when he begins to stroke the spot inside that makes you see stars while his thumb grazes teasingly over your clit.

Guess he does know where the clitoris is after all.

“You try to act tough,” he brushes his lips against your cheek and jaw until he kisses a spot below your ear, “yet here you are, so clearly desperate for my cock like the slut you are,” he whispers before clamping down, biting, and sucking at the spot on your neck. Thrashing below him, you try to nudge his head away with your shoulder to get him to let go.

“No marks! Jesus Christ, I don’t want people to know I fucked you!”

He smirks against you, knowing he’s not going to let up, and bites down on the crook of your neck this time. Gasping, you grab him by the hair and pull him away before smacking him, hard, across the cheek as he lets out a loud moan.

“You fucking liked that?” You furrow your brows and narrow your eyes, surprised by that turn of events.

“Shut the fuck up!” He growls, his lips meeting and moving along yours again in an attempt to keep you quiet. And really, you don’t mind as it gets his misogynistic ass to keep quiet as well.

With your mouths busy, his fingers working their godforsaken magic and your hands in his hair, you’re building up for a crash. A tsunami. An unraveling of the greatest proportions… and then he removes his fingers, pulling away from you completely with a cunning grin spread across his stupidly beautiful face.

“Christ, Naoya, I didn’t even cum. How pathetic .” You spit, knowing he’s edging you on purpose for pissing him off, “you sure you can fuck better than Gojo? Because at this point I’m really doubting your skill.”

“You don-”

“Shut up and get undressed. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

He stops and stares at you incredulously, “You’re the wo-”

“I’m not going to undress you. Do you want your dick sucked or not?”

Finally, finally , he closes his mouth and begins to undress from his kimono, as you take the opportunity to remove your own clothes as well.

Once the two of you are undressed, you push him onto the chair so he’s sitting; before lowering yourself to your knees, you take a moment to admire his body.

He’s leaner than you anticipated, and unbelievably toned – similar to a gymnast. Naoya has a pretty face, there’s no denying that, but having an equally pretty cock is just unfair. Standing painfully hard against his abdomen, the tip flushed red, already leaking precum. He’s average girth, but the length is impressive alone.

Based on his ears, you anticipated some sort of genital piercing, like a Jacob’s Ladder – something he could never pull off. But instead, he has a Prince Albert, which has you practically drooling at the sight.

However, that nice surprise is immediately negated by the intricate tribal tattoos with thick swirl patterns laying along one shoulder and down the left side of his chest. On the other arm lays a single thin barbed wire tattoo in the center of his bicep.

God . How incredibly douchey.

“Look at me.” You command as you sink between his legs, “you think this is where I belong, don’t you?” Grabbing his cock with a firm grip you stroke excruciatingly slow as he emits a loud moan and squirms beneath your grasp, “on my knees, between your legs. But don’t forget,” you give a small kitten lick over his tip, “I’m choosing to do this.”

You move a hand to squeeze his balls as you slide your lips over his tip and hollow your cheeks. As you expected, his hand immediately tangles into your hair, gripping tight. You have just enough time to relax your throat before he slams your head to meet his neatly trimmed groin.

As you gag and sputter with his length at the back of your throat, spit pools and dribble from your mouth, coating the lower half of his dick you’re unable to fit in your mouth. He tightens his grip, so tight, there’s no doubt he will have several ripped off hairs laced between his fingers by the time he finally lets go. He pulls back, just enough to give you a second to catch your breath before slamming you back down, nose to groin, repeatedly. Recklessly.

Tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes as he lifts his hips to meet the back of your throat, where you’re sure he’s bound to leave bruises.

“Fuck, that’s good. This is what you were meant for.” He throws his head back, eyes closed relishing the feeling of taking control of the situation.

There isn’t a lot you can do in this compromising position, so you let your teeth graze his cock in a little act of defiance as he continues to force your head up and down. He lets out a mix of stifled moans and angry grunts at the feeling before pulling your mouth off of him, bringing your gaze to meet him.

“No teeth, bitch!” He spits before slamming your head back down his length, continuing to force you to deepthroat him with every thrust. After a few minutes, his thighs begin to shake and a strained groan leaves his lips as he bucks his hips up, causing you to choke as ropes of cum slide down your throat.

“You better swallow every last drop,” he pants, “a filthy whore like you should be grateful for getting to have Zen’in seed inside you.”

After you swallow around him, to the best of your abilities, he releases your head and you make your way to the surface gasping for air, working to recover quickly. At this point, he owes you several orgasms and you’re determined to get them.

You would lean up and kiss him right now, forcing him back on the sofa so you can ride his face, but he seems like the kind of guy who would relish the taste of his own cum – the taste of his precious Zen’in DNA. Grabbing your panties from the floor, you spit the remaining essence of him into them and toss them back down.

Standing, you place your palms on his shoulders and shove him onto the chaise, throwing one leg over his chest to straddle him.

“Why don’t you shut up, put your mouth to good use for once and try to make me cum this time.”

His eyes are bright and filled with equal parts rage and hunger as he grabs you, forcing you forward over his face. He wastes no time in pulling you down so his lips can connect with your pussy in a lewd, loud, wet kiss before slipping his tongue deep inside.

Naoya forces you down in the most awkward position; one leg folded, next to his face while the other is on the floor, helping balance yourself as you move your hips against his face, softly whining each time his nose gently grazes your clit.

He digs his nails into the fleshy part of your hips, you told him no marks earlier, and this is likely bruise; at least these can be easily hidden. While gripping tighter, he lifts you slightly to adjust himself beneath you to let his tongue trail around your clit. As you shudder, he latches on, focusing all of his attention into that one spot.

He’s not interested in exploring, like a lot of other guys, oh no. He found this spot and he’s going to stay there until you completely come undone for him. You’ll give credit where it’s due – and it is due. He’s a devil with his tongue.

He might be the devil himself, but that’s a note to take away for a different session.

As he obscenely sucks, you let out a series of high-pitched moans and continue to roll your hips on his face, your release fast approaching.

He chuckles at your neediness, the vibrations traveling through you, making your toes curl and the world comes crashing down as you bite your own lip, trying not to yell out profanities as you cum, drenching his mouth with your fluids as he laps around.

Naoya continues to hold onto your hips, preventing you from straying away as your legs shake and squeeze in around him, instinctively trying to suffocate him. He hums appreciatively of everything your body’s offered, likely boosting his already inflated ego, before loosening his grip, allowing you to move back to his chest to recover.

As he licks his lips, determined not to waste any of your essence, you scoot back further, the apex of your thighs resting on his hard dick. Teasing him, you roll your hips several times allowing yourself to grind on his length.

He groans, trying to grab your hips to lift you but you swat him away, set on maintaining your teasing, allowing the tip to brush against your entrance several times.

“Fuck! Just get on my cock already!” It was so nice when he was quiet while you were riding his face. Unfortunately now, his mouth isn’t busy doing the one good thing it could do.

Looking to the ground, you spot your discarded ascot and panties next to each other and get an idea. Leaning down, you grab the ascot first and gather his hands, swiftlet knotting the scarf around his wrists and lifting them over his head. There is an old radiator in your office next to the sofa, so you tie his hands to that.

“You stupid bitch, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He scowls.

Realistically, he could easily break out of this restraint if he wanted to, but despite his angry words, he makes no effort to move as you tug on the fabric, making sure it will hold.

“I liked it better when you didn’t talk,” you state calmly, leaning down and grabbing the spit and cum filled panties from the ground.

“You worthless brat! You’re go-” he’s cut off by the crack of your palm meeting his cheek, the sound drowned out by the deep groan he emits. You take the opportunity of his distraction to shove the defiled panties into his mouth. His eyes widen in disbelief once again as the rest of his groan is muffled.

“Much better,” you sigh with relief, knowing you won’t have to listen to him again until you decide to remove the gag. Or if he gets impatient and breaks the restraints, but that’s a thought for if it happens.

Lifting yourself, you grab his cock and place the tip at your entrance, allowing yourself to slowly sink down.

“ Fuuuuuck ,” you whine at the feeling of being stretched and filled until your plush ass meets his hips.

Naoya would probably be saying something right now about how your pussy feels so good, but instead he lets out several loud stifled sounds as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You don’t bother starting off slow, instead you chase the high you were denied from his hands earlier, ruthlessly riding his dick.

“Gonna use you like my own little fuck toy,” you grind your hips further into his, “how’s that make y-you feel, Zen’in? Hm?” You ask breathlessly, riding up and down his length, “does it make you f-feel worthless? Like less of a man?”

Looking him over, his pupils are blown, filled with lust and loathing as you roll your hips, finding the angle that provides you with the most pleasure. His cheeks are pink, extending across his nose to the tips of his ears, and down to the top of his chest. Lips are kiss swollen and black eyeliner smudged around his eye from sweat, hair sticking to his forehead.

Once you find your rhythm you decide to give another resounding slap to his other cheek, so both sides match as he grunts with pleasure. Letting your hands fall to his shoulders, he fucks into you as you drag your nails down his chest with each thrust, hard enough to leave marks, you’re sure.

Trailing your hands up your body to your breasts, you message them as your nipples harden, pinching and rolling them between your fingers. Naoya hums in delight watching intently while your slick coats his length, covering his balls.

As his cock rubs against the sensitive spot on your insides, your breath quickens and legs shake beneath you each time your clit brushes against his groin with every roll of your hips. It doesn’t take long for the waves of pleasure to course through your body.

He thrashes against the radiator forgetting his hands are tied as you cream on his cock for the first time, clamping around him so hard you might as well be trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

Which isn’t a lot, in your opinion.

“How do you like being the bitch for once?” You pant; this spurs him on to adjust his legs and pulls his arms, still connected to the radiator. He bucks his hips up several times eliciting several moans from you as his cock kisses your cervix in the most delicious way.

“Tell me, pretty boy, what is it you really want?” you question, genuinely wanting to know since he treats everyone like they’re beneath him. This is supposed to be a therapy session after all, so might as well see what you can get out of him, right?

He tries to speak, but it’s muted due to the panties so you remove them and toss them aside. He pants, trying to catch his breath as his hips piston hard and deep, punctuating each point.

“Someone to obey,” thrust , “and someone to ruin,” thrust .

You yelp with each of his thrusts, trying to make a mental note to remember his answer for a later session. You continue to erratically bounce on him, meeting each of his steady thrusts with a loud slap, skin on skin, filling your otherwise quiet workspace.

“Don’t cum,” he demands as he feels your pussy gripping around his cock.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shoot back, both hands on his chest as he continues to pump mercilessly into you until the coil in your stomach snaps and breaks, walls pulsating around him, vision blurred white as you cum around him.

The feeling of you clamping down causes him to bite his lip and arch his back; knowing he’s going to be cumming soon too, you quickly remove yourself from him sitting back on his thighs. His eyes widen as he looks at you like you’ve betrayed him – it’s bad enough you’re fucking him, but there’s no way in hell you’ll let him cum inside you.

You’ll never admit it to him, but he was a good fuck, maybe still not as good as Gojo would have been, but still good nonetheless, so you’ll let him cum.

“No way I’m gonna be stuck around you for years,” you explain as you grab his length, stroking vigorously until his eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out several deep strangled moans, pulling hard on the radiator, as his precious Zen’in seed covers his chest.

After you catch your breath, you remove yourself from his legs and search for your clothes on the floor. Finding the panties that are soaked in both your spit, you toss them into the trash under your desk; you’ll need to remember to empty that before you leave, so nobody accidently sees them.

“If you take anything away from this, it should be that you don’t need to be in charge of everything. You might be surprised just how freeing that can truly be.” You try to explain as you untie his hands; he continues to lay on the chaise, catching his breath rolling out his wrists, “you can use the bathroom over there to clean yourself and get dressed. Be back in five minutes for the rest of your session.”

“Fucking psycho bitch,” he mutters to himself as he begrudgingly stands and stalks off to the bathroom with his clothes while his cum drips from his chest down to his abdomen.

You decide to ignore his comment and choose to take a deep breath instead and get dressed too. After straightening your skirt and slipping your shoes back on, you take your seat across from the chaise once again.

When Naoya returns, seven minutes later, you note, he takes his seat. Looking him over, his cheeks are still tinged pink, hair more romantically tousled than dishevel-

Nope. Good god, get those thoughts out of your brain right now. This is not going to be a thing.

Sighing, you grab the legal pad from the coffee table between the two of you and click the top of the pen, ready to write. His session is over in about 20 minutes. Let’s see how painful we can continue to make this for him.

“So, Naoya, tell me about your mother.”

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