#Monkey Man movie

[edwardbonnets]

dev patel monkey man brain rot is real and i'm its most vulnerable victim

[silverapplestock]

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

One thing about Monkey Man is that to genuinely enjoy it, you have to do your research.

I'm not Hindu, so of course i don't know the full story of Hanuman and came out only knowing what the movie told me. But just like Biblical imagery in other films, it goes deeper than what the movie it explicitly tells you.

What's great is you learn more about other people's culture, hell you can even connect better with other people. In my case, i have Hindu friends, and the sheer fact that when talking about this movie they explained their religion to me was magical, the same way me explaining my religion to them is magical. But researching yourself can create a similar experience. [p.s: the reason I'm not explaining any explicit stories is cause again I WANT Y'ALL TO RESEARCH]

I think it's bad faith for people not to research and find out about other mythologies in films, especially since everyone regardless of religion is expected to understand every biblical allusion.

Also doing this would fix the pacing of so many movies. Monkey Man main issue was pacing, but that's primarily because it has to re-explain the mythological elements and the Kid's motive, only for people to still say "it's too confusing" or "i didn't understand the Kid's motive til the very end of the film" or "the romance was too sudden" (there was no romance), because even when smacked over and over again by the plot, people don't want to actually understand the story because they see it as a cultural story with no value.

[potato-lord-but-not]

um. perhaps everyone should go see monkey man. just maybe. consider.

[enthyrea]

let’s boogie

[stellwoods]

for me, the heart of monkey man was its immense love for india, and the confidence of articulating that love through representation and criticism—the things that make india beautiful are not the colorist, hindu-nationalist propoganda stories of bollywood but largeness of the diaspora: indians who trans, who are muslim, who have been oppressed by their government, who are unacknowledged by society, etc—and prevail despite the odds stacked against them. they are encouraged to be themselves and fight against these occupational forces.

major props to dev patel for showing that hey, you actually can make a movie about indians in a way that perfectly encapsulates the various cultures, mythologies, AND egregious political climate, while also highlighting indian people and giving them the recognition and respect they often don't recieve in western—OR bollywood—canon. now that we know it's possible (it always was) i want more! thanks!

(also it helped that he was either in a suit, shirtless, or covered in blood [sometimes two at a time] for most of this movie. dev patel, i literally only need one chance...)

[thehanuman]

it's time to remember who you are.

[stardustndice]

dev patel did a line of coke and called up all his trans friends to make one of the coolest movies of the year. give him any role he fucking wants for the rest of his life

[ketzpart]

Please please please go see Monkey Man! It’s a fun, passionate and brutal film obviously made with a ton of love.

[kewaizi]

Save me dev patel..

[threetrenchcoatsinatrenchcoat]

Why Dev Patel failing to jump out of a window is so cool

This era of movies tends to skirt the line of satirizing so much as to stand for nothing. The tradeoff of sincerity for meta humor is not in a ratio I recall voting for. I get wary every time a story possibly maybe makes fun of me for caring about it, and I've come to accept that I think of sincerity as a fragile thing. But fragile is not the same as meaningless.

Let's talk Monkey Man. Bobby/The Kid/Dev Patel is trying to get out of a building and leaps sideways into a window, ready to smash through it and land on the street. He clunks against it, he falls to the floor out of frame, the window remains fully unscathed, and the action music cuts out. A beat. Then he gets up, the chase keeps going, and the music kicks back in. In a lesser movie, this choice is saying, "Aren't action movies stupid? Anyways I guess here's an action movie." On the other side if nothing is ever changed, it's saying, "Aren't action movies perfect already? Anyways I guess here's more of the same." It's great when you can subvert expectations in a way that doesn't undermine everything else, so here's why this isn't undermining its premise and even enforces it.

First off, after coming back in, the music keeps playing and being a legitimately exciting beat underscoring the rest of the scene. The joke knows when it's over and gets out of the way. Second, this trope is a great target for this bit; windows are so much more reinforced than this genre ever credits. But then the magic is that the entire rest of the movie is consistently brutal. The window bit comes from a unified authorial voice that also earnestly digs into the action before and after it. A deliberate drawing attention to the difficult realities of action only works if the rest of your action does hit harder than the fare of movie you're invoking.

And Monkey Man delivers. Every henchman takes so many hits before going down, and the hits are bloodier, closer, and quieter than Hollywood action. And the last thing that makes it work is that it only happens the once. It brings up John Wick and rather explicitly claims this movie will be smarter, and it does the joke with the window to ask you to take the violence seriously. Every time a movie distances itself from its genre, it's making sincerity take so much more work every other minute. Lots of movies give up on it entirely. This movie chooses the work.

[chaithetics]

Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

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

It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in. 

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out. 

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him. 

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head. 

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway. 

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still. 

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient. 

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand. 

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit. 

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly.  He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch. 

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug. 

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him. 

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question. 

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response. 

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much. 

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other. 

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club. 

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours. 

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it. 

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle. 

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone. 

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

[firelise]

Stop feeding that dog. It's just going to keep back, expecting more. It just gives her hope. // [News: Baba Shakti today held a public prayer for victims of the ongoing land disputes, advocating that violence is never the answer.]

MONKEY MAN (2024)

[royalsunshinehotel]

talkin' rings and talkin' cradles ( The Kid x escort!reader, 18+)

Something was different, in all of the months he came to see you, he’d been a gentleman. He’d never pushed you, only kept his hands where you wanted them, and he never, ever hid from you. Now, after a month of no contact, and begging the Gods for his safety, he was right here, hiding. 

No, maybe that wasn’t true. He was just different. 

Over a month, you’d heard nothing. You thought, for a moment, that he’d gotten bored of you, most men who came to see you did eventually, but deciding that perhaps he’d died hurt your heart less. It was all men were good for, after all. 

But here he was, in the back room, eerily calm. Of course it was him, you’d know him anywhere. Tall, broad, a black suit, and a white ape mask covering his beautiful face. You knew it was him under there, but he held himself differently. His shoulders held back, like he wanted to be seen when he walked into a room. 

“What’s happened? Talk to me.” You almost beg him, there was a time you’d have worried you were asking for too much. But not here, not with him. You hear a small sigh under the mask, and it makes your hair stand on end. 

“Was it a fight?” You’d seen him at Tiger’s Temple, you knew how badly he needed to be hit, and hit hard. What if he’d quit pulling his punches. Maybe he’d knocked someone out he hadn’t meant to? What if - 

Your anxiety sits on your chest, digging in deeper, but is cut off by him, slowly, steady as ever, he took your shaky palm in his hand, bringing it up to the mask, as if to kiss it. Of course your hair stands on end, even the lightest touch from him left you shaking. For a moment, you think of other men, the ones who paid to fuck you, and how they’d die to see you like this - obedient, soft, trained.

They didn’t matter, and never would. 

He lets you fall to your knees. You look up at him like he was that western God he’d heard so much about. He knows he’s an absolute fool for coming to see you. It would be the last time, he just had to see you, he just had to tell you … 

And it’s gone. Any plan he’d made of what he’d say evaporated the moment you put your hands on him. 

You were quick with your hands, always, and it dazzled him, just like the rest of you does. 

He breathes heavily through the mask, trying not to crumble at your feet…again…He shouldn’t have left you alone for so long, completely unprotected, with these people. It wasn’t fair. Nothing about this was fair. He shivers lightly, as you expose him to the cold air in the room, and slowly stroke him, firmly and evenly, as if that would hide your own hunger. 

With a short, rough lick to his tip, he’s in pieces. He could sit and ponder the hold you had on him, but he wouldn’t. He’d had enough time to think. 

You take his hands in your own, and put one large, warm palm in your hair. He doesn’t do it himself, so you’ll have to do it for him. You always felt he was far away whenever you had him like this, you wouldn’t allow that this time. 

He, on the other hand, was too busy gazing at you, cock in your hand, begging for attention, and your sweet face totally focused on him. What did he do to deserve this attention? What had he done that warranted such care? 

Your breath on his throbbing muscle feels like fire, it’s quite a contrast to the rest of you. He’d gotten used to your manner, but the way you completely softened to him felt like an honor. You lick lightly, and he grinds his teeth together. Teasing him brought you such joy. You couldn’t imagine a world where everything he passed didn’t fall at his feet and beg for attention, same as you. 

Enough now, you think, as you end it. 

A small puff of air through your nose, and he has to brace himself on the wall behind the two of you. 

You fuck him with your throat. It’s what he deserves. 

The ridges in your mouth drag mercilessly against his member. Your nails dig into his hips, your tears stream freely down your face, and you're determined to have your fill. He’d never spilled in your mouth before, and he wouldn’t today. Even if it would be the last time. 

You whine, just a little, as he lays a warm, wide palm on your shoulder, a little signal to stop. The fold between your brows deepens, you want to taste him but all he ever does is deny you. 

The white ape stares at you, blankly, only a hint of him underneath. He helps you off your knees, and you can’t remember why you were scowling.

He puts his injured palm against your cheek, and your chest is suddenly filled with feathers. He’s always so gentle with you, and you can't stand it.

Your makeup smeared, you grip his shoulders and press yourself against him, reaching up to grab that stupid white ape mask, pulling it off his face.

He looked better than when he'd last come to you, his face a little more round, like he'd smiled at some point since the last time you'd seen him. 'Better' was a good look for him, but the unbearable sadness remained the same.

He knows you see write through him, taking a fist of your hair, pulling your head back firmly, tracing up your throat with his tongue, only meeting your mouth when you keen for it, brushing your nose against his own.

He'd never make you beg, that doesn't mean you wouldn't

Your eyes roll, mouth falling open as he pushes slowly, confidently, inside of you. You allow him to coo at you, “always so good for me, such a good girl,” and you nip at the hand he’s resting on the side of your face. 

You help him, as he moves you like he pleases, humming as he puts your legs over his shoulders, trying to hit deep. You want to keep him and his formidable cock hostage. Maybe you should.

He starts slowly, softly, praising you all the while.

"I've missed you terribly, have you missed me?" You nod, lovely warmth seeping out of every pore.

He thinks, for a moment, about his revenge, and he twitches inside of you. You don’t know a thing, that’s by design. You’re perfectly drunk on his cock, his fierce lover, completely sweet and soft. It makes him insane, the privilege you'd given him.

"Ah - You always take me so well, fit around me just right. Thank you," You put your thumb in his mouth, where it belongs.

Kid wants to tell you that he’ll keep going. He’ll keep fighting, that he can save enough to get the two of you out of the city. You wouldn’t know a moment of worry for him again. 

He says nothing, tears stream down your face as he ruts into you, eyes glazed over as he takes a heated love bite out of your neck.

For a moment, you see yourself in a year - hopefully less, in a different bed, body changed by him, comfortable now. Maybe even free. Maybe you're retired. Maybe you've gone back to laundry, working like your mother, before you were taken away.

Kid rolls the sensitive flesh of your breasts with his burned fingers, watching you twitch against the wall. Your sad little whines sounds like music, and he can't tell you how he lives to hear it.

With your back arched in a silent scream, you shatter. Lost in heaven. 

You drift - vaguely feeling him pound into you, chasing right behind. Your breasts bounce with each thrust, as if it only makes him hungrier. You think about the first time you did this, how you had to put his hands on you, to let him roam as he pleased. He dared now, he roams all over, and he pleases you by pleasing himself. 

Good, you think. 

"Jaana?" He calls to you from far away, voice rough, "Have I hurt you?" You feel him sigh as you smile at him, stunned. He’s still pulsing inside of you, and he’s asking how you are? 

The heat of him makes you wriggle to get closer, and he almost laughs. Almost. You couldn’t get closer without becoming one, he wishes it was possible. 

“No, you haven’t.” You hum,  pressing your face into his neck, and inhaling. He chuckles lightly, and you want to drown in the rumble. Even after letting a stranger devour you, he still fucks you more sweetly than anyone ever has. Or ever will.

Face buried in your neck, your wrists tight in his grasp, you pray to yourself that he’ll stay with you. That he’ll stay overnight, and the two of you can be something more than what you were.

His grip on you tightens, safely stepping forward, and lowering you back on to a worn out mattress. He doesn't like to have you there. Your clawing grip on the back of his neck doesn’t release, your body won’t allow you to let him go. He doesn’t mind. 

He leans down to kiss you like he loves you, and that was far too dangerous to dwell on. 

[kausstar]

ᯓ ✶ DATING / GENERAL HEADCANONS ◞ kid .

headcanons + ask tags female! reader. nsfw + sfw content. black reader in mind but anyone can read. talks of trauma (his mothers death). kissing. him coded things. some modern au while others are set in the movie. little to no smut added. ꒰ please forgive me 4 these headcanons cause they’re basically just be rambling about him, it’s not formal… at all ꒱

⟣ having kid as a boyfriend would be so fulfilling but deathly worrying. he’s so attentive (just as you are to him), kind, giving, gentle, and heartfelt.

worships the ground you walk on. full hands and knees type worships.

he definitely uses those big eyes to his advantage whether he knows it or not. feel like you’ve told him about it but he continues to deny it.

saves up his money from the tournaments to not only get a gun but get you something. like a bracelet or something memorable.

greets you bloody, dripping with sweat and dirt with a closed mouth, tired smile on his face every time he comes home to you.

even comes home with small groceries that you said you needed to pick up the day after, just cause it was “on his route,” quoted him, even though he most definitely had to cross some streets and walk a little longer to get it.

doesn’t sleep a lot so listens to you breath most nights (no matter how weird it sounds). enjoys it though, makes him feel comfortable.

definitely the type to kiss your hand and wrist. goes along with the worshipping part.

doesn’t really talk much. you know he has so much to say but he doesn’t say much of it. especially when it comes down to his feelings towards certain things.

he’s easy to read though. since you’ve been in a relationship you’ve realized how important it is to just let him be quiet and watch his eyes and behavior.

makes little jokes here and there, once he’s comfortable. especially if you’re already the playful type, yeah he’s make some sarcastic jokes.

feels embarrassed about his hands at first. he most definitely felt ashamed of them and lied about what happened for the first couple weeks of your relationship.

ends it telling you the truth late at night when he can’t sleep once he realizes that he’s comfortable enough w you and he’s iinnn looovvveee.

likes to lay on your chest and let you play with his hair. side note: i just know his hair is sooo soft but is almost all the time sticky and sweaty.

thinking about how he’d love hugging you after having a panic attack. like he’s breathing heavy, arms around you tight.

feel like if you ever gave him something for like luck or just a small gift he’d take it everywhere and/or wear it everyday.

also something that’s soo him coded is having a picture of you in his wallet. like the cutest picture ever on earth, taken by him of course.

thinks you're the best thing that has happen to him in a long time and he adores you.

will just stare at you without you knowing (while you’re focusing on something else) and go “you’re gorgeous.”

there’s no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t look at another woman like he looks at you. he wouldn’t dare even share a glance to them.

⟣ during his missions, he wouldn’t get you involved unless you wanted to be.

he would consider it for a little, just because you want to but deep down he’s just wants to say no and that be the end of it.

losing you scares him and to put you in the position where he would lose you is the last thing he wants to do.

when he leaves and doesn’t know if he coming back he says, “i’ll be with you forever soon.” before kissing your lips.

adding on to the gift one, he’d even carry it during his extreme antics. can’t help but think about him waking up after being shot, at the temple, and looking around for it (if it’s not on his person).

“the picture… that was in my pocket.” he’d ask quietly to the keeper. they point to the small bed side table, kid hadn’t taken note of before. he lets out almost a sigh once he finds the picture, but can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling. a frown slightly shadowing his face. “she’s beautiful,” the keeper comments.

when they put him on the news as a wanted terrorist, and even after, he stayed away, trying to keep you safe.

⟣ in his community, he’s seen the small kids grow up and older adults have seen him do so, so he’s very particular with who he introduces them to.

and let’s say he doesn’t hesitate all that much to do so with you.

i feel like the kids would warm up to you somewhat quickly.

feel like they would give you little trinkets or flowers they found, just cause.

if you play with them and kid witnesses?? he’s not gonna say it, he swears up and down it’s the cutest thing he’s seen in his life (gets baby fever).

⟣ in the sheets, he prefers sex to be passionate and loving. feel like he fucks you like it’s the last he’ll ever see you, every time.

feel like he’d like to rough with you sometimes. maybe if he’s stressed and he always asks if you want it rougher.

he talks you through it. like my god. but like really sweetly.

he’s a tit man! just feel like he’s too shy to look at your ass but definitely not shy enough to look down your top.

 2024 kausstar — ( pinned post ⟡ masterlist )

— pls don’t use my headcanons for your own work. i’ve seen that a lot and it’s rude.

[editfandom]

Monkey Man, 2024