#can’t wait until they do get more plot stuff so i can write about all of it lol

[cream-and-tea]

LAY ME DOWN. chapter seven excerpt. unedited. featuring: agnes’s first meeting with several students of The Library after pallas is forced to go to them for help. mention of injuries. threats of violence and just a Lot of unresolved tension

[Transcript under the cut.]

hello and welcome to another instalment of This Book Has More Than Two Characters I Swear! this time we have judge, calliope and max, a trio of oddballs who pallas has a history with and agnes is meeting for the first time. they’re all really fun to write (calliope especially) and have really grown on me as the plot has progressed lol

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-).  @vellichor-virgo​ @nicola-writes​ @doctormoss​ @gerbermatter​ @cactusprincewrites @houndmouthed @muddshadow @aeipathys @just-wublrful @midnights-melodiverse @corkywantstowrite @paradisiacalshroud @andromedatalksaboutstuff

The one all in white cocks her head to the side, face twisted in a weird not-smile. Agnes has never seen a girl with hair this short and bright before, a soft cap of copper offset by a multitude of dangling earrings, little charms hanging from pastel ribbons that tinkle whenever she moves. Her face is very oval and her smile is very crooked and wide across it, freckles wrinkling up around her nose in disdain.

“Would you look at that Judge? It’s the principal's little lapdog,” she says in a high, dramatic drawl. “Thought you’d finally gone and found a hole to die in Bloodhound, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

She bows mockingly and from behind the shelves Agnes winces, but Pallas doesn’t even blink. 

“Ah Calliope, glad to see you’ve lost none of your charm,” they say cooley. “Your nights have been restful, I presume?”

The girl in whites smirk shifts into a very unlovely snarl and she moves forward. But before Agnes has time to squeeze her eyes closed a hand comes forward to rest on Calliopes shoulder. From her narrow view between the shelves Agnes can see the third figure stepping forward, touch instantly setting her friend to rest. She’s tall, wrapped in a long tweed coat with straight, narrow black braids framing a straight, narrow brown face, and Agnes is struck in the moment by just how small Pallas is. Smaller than her and definitely smaller than this person. They look almost frail in comparison.

“Easy, it’s not worth it,” the second girl says, her voice deep and raspy and flat. Then, to Pallas: “What do you want?”

“A favour.”

“Interesting idea, one counterpoint: why would I ever do anything for you?”

“Because you owe me Judge. Because if it wasn’t for me you’d be dead.”

At this the one called Calliope starts laughing until a stern “Cal, please” cuts it off. Agnes has never been good with expressions but she thinks the girl with braids—Judge—looks more confused than anything else, a tiny divot appearing between her dark brows. “You’ve never asked for anything before, why now?”

“I’m very tired,” Pallas says and Agnes takes a moment to marvel at how a conversation can somehow sound like the clash of steel on steel. “And I don’t want to go through the mess of making Max’s little brain come out his ears to get you to listen. I'm not going to take chances on this. It’s quite delicate.”

Calliope’s face twists again and she steps further in front of turtleneck boy. There’s something off about her eyes. This is a place filled with terrifying people with weird eyes. “Wanna say that again you demented little–“

“Cal. Not. Worth it.”

“But—“

“They’re trying to rile you, it’s what they do,” Judge says, knowing and measured, straight-edged profile facing her friend before she turns back to Pallas. “Spare the theatrics Bloodhound, and tell me what it is you need. I can decide whether it’s worth my time from there.”

Agnes is starting to think that Pallas smiling is never a good thing, this one is tiny and contemptuous and probably means you are but a tiny ant and I will not hesitate before squishing you very badly under my chunky black boots, or something like that. Judge doesn’t seem like she can be squished, but there’s a first time for everything. “It’s funny you think this is a negotiation, but all right.”

And then they turn and their awful, awful eyes meet hers from between the books. They make an unmistakable beckoning motion with their hand and Agnes has to scramble to drag herself up, avoiding putting pressure on her bad ankle. She pokes her head out from behind the shelves and waves slightly, unsure of what else to do. 

“She’s hurt,” Pallas says, not even sparing a look her way. “You’re going to heal her.” 

The redheaded Calliope makes a whistling sound between her teeth and says: “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Then she turns towards Judge, who’s already looking Agnes up and down in a way that makes her feel the most awkward she’s ever felt in her life. It’s a magnifying glass stare, one that catalogues and processes, every inch of her laid bare. The line between Judges eyebrows deepens and Calliope says again, now in a tone of complete exasperation and disbelief: “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Cal–“

“Nope. No way.”

“Calliope–“

“We’re not helping the creepy little murderer! Group Rule Number One is not helping creepy little murderers!”

“Group Rule Number One is about healthy communication.”

“Semantics!”

The boy in the black turtleneck and glasses looks out from behind Calliope. The short crop of dreadlocks on top of his head have been strung through here-and-there with colourful beads that pop against his dark clothing. Agnes gives him a nervous smile, hoping that her mouth is moving the way mouths are supposed to move when they smile, and is relieved beyond measure when he raises one hand in a tiny wave. Agnes leans against the towering bookshelf, feeling a lot like she’s stepped into a place she shouldn’t be while Pallas makes a show of examining their nails. 

“It’s just one girl. It won’t cost me anything.” 

“Oh don’t ignore basics, there’s always a cost. And besides, it’s Bloodhound business!” Calliope hisses, pointing as the Bloodhound picks a tiny bit of dirt from under their left ring fingernail.

“Calliope, please,” Judge says in a voice that Papá used on Mother all the time. The I don’t wanna fight voice. The we can talk about this later but not right now voice. Agnes' face burns from just looking at the two of them. Her ankle and throat will probably be fine, why did Pallas have to bring her here at all?

Calliope puts her face in her hands in what must be defeat because Pallas smiles a smile like a crack in marble, and Judge sighs in a soft, exhausted kind of way that makes guilt bubble like mud in Agnes’s stomach. 

“Okay,” she says. “But you’ve got to do something for us.”

Pallas raises an eyebrow. “I’m not bartering with you Judge.”

“Tough luck,” Judge deadpans. She turns to Calliope and the boy in black: “Max-Attack, Cal, this’ll only take a few minutes.” And then looks directly at Agnes, who jumps: “Come on then, we don’t have all day.”

[lincolndjarin]

constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

  “What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice. 

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder. 

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face. 

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient. 

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair. 

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him. 

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it. 

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs. 

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction. 

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing. 

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely. 

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk. 

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place. 

You recognize the website he’s on. 

You’d know that red bar anywhere. 

There’s no fucking way. 

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction. 

You’re so fucked. 

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan. 

That somehow hurts worse. 

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants. 

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car. 

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed. 

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head. 

It doesn’t. 

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone. 

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one. 

[ I’m coming over. ] 

Son of a bitch. 

You quickly scroll through the previous messages. 

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else. 

He liked your story. 

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole. 

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat. 

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face. 

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous. 

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead. 

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence. 

“Your file.” He says sheepishly. 

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough. 

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze. 

“Why did you read it?” 

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm. 

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better. 

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly. 

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown. 

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. 

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now. 

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse. 

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms. 

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively. 

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious. 

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion. 

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face. 

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit. 

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff. 

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away. 

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down. 

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind. 

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly. 

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again. 

You both know what that means. 

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home. 

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady. 

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting. 

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him. 

This is exactly what happens in your story. 

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are. 

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth. 

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her. 

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.” 

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap. 

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded. 

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss. 

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions. 

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically. 

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further. 

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious. 

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense. 

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end. 

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise. 

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked. 

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud. 

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red. 

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering. 

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.  

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm. 

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!” 

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly. 

“Seriously?” You glare at him. 

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine. 

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing. 

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you. 

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous. 

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else. 

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh. 

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?” 

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things. 

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before. 

“What do I do first?” 

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip. 

“What do I do next?” You look up at him. 

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady. 

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips. 

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down. 

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you. 

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs. 

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats. 

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed. 

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide. 

“Why?” 

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here. 

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition. 

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in. 

It doesn’t take much from there. 

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours. 

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point. 

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom. 

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock. 

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs. 

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.  

God, you wish you’d done this sooner. 

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours. 

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile. 

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him. 

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you. 

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you. 

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out. 

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

[river-lethe-tears]

DC x DP Prompt

Sam gets Summoned

So instead of Danny being the one summoned, this time it’s Sam. Like, being possessed by Overgrowth (or whatever he’s name is stupid plant ghost :/ ) , made her get some cool plant powers and stuff. 

So the cult is trying to summon Overgrowth to return Earth to its former green glory or whatever. But instead gets this small goth girl. Who is suddenly looking very pissed off and angry. And oh no. They try to be really respectful and stuff because what if this is Overgrowth putting them through a test? So they toss their sacrifices into the circle because of course the entity is not happy until it gets what it was promised. 

The sacrifices are probably either Poison Ivy who they somehow got (most likely through threatening Harley than knocking them both out to use as sacrifices) or Red Hood since Jason was dead and all plus Lazarus Pits. (Or Batfamily if you’re more partial to that but I did not think of this prompt with them in mind as the sacrifices lol)

So Sam is really confused and pissed off cause she was in the middle of something with Danny and Tucker and both of those idiots are probably freaking out, so she needs to get back as soon as possible. So she just gives a nasty (burger) glare and just waves her hands. Plants start sprouting from the ground and knocking the cult out. Once Sam done she just rolls her eyes in all her goth glory and walks over to the sacrifices to untie them. Poison Ivy then just watches everything play out with amusement as Harley tries to cheer Sam on. If the sacrifices are Poison Ivy and Harley or Red Hood than they compliment Sam on her skills. If it’s anyone else it’s up to your imagination.

So yeah that happens. Depending on who the sacrifices are, after an undetermined time talking Sam just walks back to the summoning circle. She knows all about this stuff due to all the rants Danny goes on and on with about people being so inconsiderate when summoning him. So she just concentrates and taps into either her liminal status, powers due to Overgrowth, or ectoplasm residue in her system and reverse summons herself back to Amity.

The rest of the bats burst in just as Sam starts to reverse summon herself. And are freaking out or shocked before she is just gone. They only get a few glimpses at her and they can’t grasp the colours since the summoning circle starts to glow bright green. Poison Ivy and Harley won’t really tell them anything since they are amused at the bats frustration. (Bats knew to rescue them cause Selena told them that they were missing; Sirens are reformed(?) in this AU)

So the bats are trying to find out more information on this being the cult summoned and the Sirens aren’t really being that helpful. Selena finds it hilarious after Ivy and Harley inform her what happened. 

Just imagine a few months later there’s a Wayne Gala going on and the Mansons were invited so of course they came and dragged Sam along. Who also ended up dragging Danny and Tucker along. And the bats casually freak out when they see this girl who looks kinda like the being they saw in that warehouse a few months ago. Oh gods above. Poison Ivy please pick up. Please don’t let this be another Gala being crashed. They can handle their rouges, not inter-dimensional beings they have no information about. 

Danny and Tucker naturally finds this hilarious.

Until Tucker gets summoned a month later.

~~~ Please excuse the horrible everything. I am writing this very late, but I had to do a brain dump since this was haunting (haha) my brain. I literally had this idea pop up and not go away while trying to fall asleep. There are so many run off sentences, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore. Sleep waits for no man, woman, or in between before claiming their conscience for a few hours (or days). I might come back later to fix this up and fill plot holes. But that’s a huge maybe. Also I couldn’t be bothered to actually searched up Overgrowth’s real name lol or to fact check anything. My brain is gone. Into the wind. :p

[fallinforerling]

may i request (from the prompt phrases) 2 - 8 - 17 with erling 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

the shirt dilemma - eh

A/N: As I usually say: ERLING BRAINROT. I can’t stop writing for this man, I’m ABSOLUTELY in love with him. Thank you SO MUCH!!! for 800 followers. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you always xx

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist 

 ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

 : ̗̀➛ requested phrases: 

2. “i'll never wear the jersey of someone who isn't my boyfriend.”

8. “why are you staring at me like that?”

17. “you have a really pretty face, have you ever heard that?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I can’t believe people actually waste their time plotting about this stuff…” You murmured more to yourself than anyone else in the room, still scrolling through the infinite amount of photos that you found on Twitter. “Kinda creepy…” 

“What’s up?” Jack murmured back, kicking your leg with his foot. You raised an eyebrow in his direction. “C’mon, you just said something that implies tea. Now you have to spill it.” 

“I don’t have to do shit, Grealish.” You laughed, kicking him back. “But okay, here.” You sat on the couch. “I was on Twitter, and I found some tweets with my name on it, which is kinda weird since I’m not a public figure so… I don’t know, I was digging on my own shit until…” You turned your phone so he could see it. 

His eyebrows raised until they almost touched the base of his hair, giving you a full view of the funniest expression you’d ever seen on him since ever. 

“That’s an interesting take.” 

“¿De qué hablan?” (What are you guys talking about?”) Julián asked, entering the room with hands full of snacks. 

“Nada.” (Nothing) You really hated Julián’s impecable hearing. He was always around the corner when you were gossiping with Jack. “Más bien dame comida, que me tuviste esperando como mil años. Me muero de hambre.” (Give me some food, you’ve got me waiting for like a thousand years. I’m starving) 

“Luego no me pidas que te cuente algo, porque te vas a quedar con las ganas.” (Later, don’t ask me for any gossip, cause I won’t share any) He replied, throwing a bag of chips at you. 

“I actually love when you two speak Spanish in front of me and I understand absolutely nothing.” Jack said after you grabbed the bag, not paying attention to the dirty look Julián gave you before sitting next to him. “Makes me feel like I’m back in Spain for some vacation.” 

“I just love when she speaks Spanish.” Erling’s voice startled you. You looked up at him, who was just entering the room. You tore your eyes apart from his figure as quickly as you could, wishing that the heart eyes weren’t that noticeable for any of them. God, he was so handsome. 

“You love everything that she does.” Julián said, giggling a bit when you shot him a nasty look. That little fucker. 

“True, you’re the biggest fanboy I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jack teased, nudging Erling’s arm when he sat next to you. 

“What can I say? I’m a man with great taste.” Erling shot back, leaving you all shaky on the inside. You had to prevent your mouth from falling wide open. You could never get used to that type of compliments coming from him.

It was times like these when you wondered if Erling had any feelings for you. It would be awesome if he did. But you knew it couldn’t be possible; he was playing and teasing around. You were just friends.

“If you’re going to flirt with her, I’m leaving.” Jack said, openly enjoying how uncomfortable you were getting from all the attention. “But also? We could manage to see if we can get this little brat to come to the next game, eh?” 

“No, no! Don’t start with that. I already said no a million times before.” You were tired of it. You knew, from past experience, that you would be recognized, and those stupid gossip sites would eat you up. 

“C’mon, don’t be such a… coward.” Julián replied, always up to teasing you as well. “It’s fun, you should totally go. Emilia’s gonna be there.” 

“But…” 

“No, no, not ‘but’. You’re coming, end of discussion.” Erling cut you off, smiling widely when you looked at him. “Please?” 

Aw, man. Fuck big blonde guys with green eyes. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So there you were, two days later. Full of regrets and suffering, seeing how your friends (or more like enemies at this point) were smiling like little kids while you stood in the middle of the Etihad Stadium shop. Your arms were crossed, not wanting to give in two times in a row when it came to these guys’ wishes, but it was getting more and more difficult as the minutes passed and Erling’s eyes kept flashing you little looks that were keeping you on the edge. 

“Why?” You finally spoke up, giving in to the silence that had overcome the room. “I’ve already accepted to come against my will. Why do I have to wear a jersey as well?” 

“Because! Everyone that really loves the team wears a shirt!” Jack said, giving you a knowing look that screamed duh. “You’re our friend, it would be so rude if you just go there wearing…” He pointed to your baby blue shirt with a grin. “That.” 

“What’s the matter with it? It’s City’s color, isn’t it?” 

“C’mon, you’re not actually doing the most out here wearing a blue shirt, darling.” Erling’s voice had an effect on you. Dammit. “Be a good girl and wear a jersey.”

No, no, no. Don’t fall for it just because he called you a… Oh, god. God, help your daughter. 

“Fine!” As usual, you just gave in once Erling stepped in. “Pick a stupid shirt so I can get out of here.” 

You were hoping that you were being dramatic over nothing and that they’d probably pick a blank shirt with no actual handle on the back, but as Erling approached his own fucking section, you knew you were absolutely fucked. 

“No! Not your stupid ego getting the best of you, I’m not wearing a Haaland shirt!” You wanted to. But it was the worst idea in the world. “I’ll never wear the jersey of someone who isn’t my boyfriend. That’s just a horrible idea.” You didn’t know why you just said that, but it was out there before you could backtrack on your words. 

“Why not?” Jack asked, getting closer to you with that cheeky grin that you hated. “What’s wrong with wearing a friend’s jersey just for today? It isn’t good enough?” 

Oh, you knew what he wanted to say with that little tone on the word “friend”. 

“Because, my dear Jack. People love to speculate about things without actual proof. So, if they see me wearing Erling’s shirt while being here, they’ll think I’m his girlfriend, and…” 

“So what?” Erling said, already handing you a shirt. “Let people assume whatever they want to assume.” 

“Perhaps, would it be that bad if people think that you are his girlfriend?” It was the first time in twenty minutes that Julián had said a word, but when he did, he cornered you. “Just saying…”

“Yeah, would it?” Erling’s tone sounded almost evil as he slightly pressed the shirt towards you, leaving you no other option but to take it. “Just put it on.” 

“I hate you…” You whispered, still grabbing the shirt with a bit more force than necessary. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you for the entirety of the game, which was ridiculous since you were the most boring person and no one— and when you said no one, it was really no one— was giving you a second look as you sat and watched the game like everyone else did. 

The paranoia you were feeling was ridiculous. Never in a million years have you felt more targeted for wearing a fucking shirt that said Haaland on the back. You could only pray that a photo of you didn’t make it to Twitter, where a bunch of weird people were already making assumptions about the actual nature of your relationship with Erling. That’s why you were being so negative about wearing anything City or Erling related. You knew how the rumors started.

Like it would ever happen in reality. 

“Relájate, boluda. Parece que estás acá contra tu voluntad.” (Girl, relax. You look like you’re here against your will) Emilia shouted over the fans’ voices, seeming entertained by your current state. Just like her boyfriend, apparently. 

“¿Te parece?” (You think?) You couldn’t help the sarcastic tone in your voice. “Todo gracias al pendejo de tu novio.” (All thanks to your stupid boyfriend) 

“Ay, ya. No es para tanto…” (Aw, c’mon. It’s not that big of a deal…) She paused, giggling. “Estás así porque te gusta Erling, ¿no?” (You’re acting like this because you like Erling, aren’t you?) 

“¡¿Qué?!” (What?!) You shouted, feeling your face go deep red as the referee blew the final whistle, letting the entire stadium know that the game was over. 

“It’s so obvious, babe. You totally like that man.” She took your hand, not letting you overcome the fact that someone finally acknowledged your feelings for him. “Let’s go.” 

“Where?” Was all you managed to say, looking around to check if someone was paying attention to you. Again. 

“The dressing room.” 

Oh-oh. 

Your eyes darted to the pitch, where most of the players were still walking around while exchanging greetings and jerseys. You spotted Erling right away; it was very difficult not to. He towered over almost every single person that walked past him, which could be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Emilie knew about your feelings for him. Suddenly, it felt so real. It felt like everyone knew. 

“Move or I’ll have to drag you there myself.” Emilia’s tone gave the impression of being absolutely serious about the dragging part, so you started walking out of pure instinct. 

You made your way across the sea of people that were leaving or lingering around the benches. You saw how it all appeared to move a bit slower as you followed her, who still had a hold on your wrist, like she was almost preventing you from escaping. You didn’t want to see Erling right now; the way you were so worked up about Emilia’s words was stupid, but you knew yourself, and it was very possible that you were about to blow everything because of the nerves. 

“Breathe. You’re crushing my hand.” 

“Is it too obvious?” You whispered once you made it to the tunnels. 

“That you like him?” She turned to face you, smiling a bit before fixing your hair. “Not to him, I believe.” Her eyes looked behind you, a bigger smile appeared on her face. “But maybe it’s time to let you know that he likes you. Gotta go, Juli’s coming. Good luck.” She kissed your cheek briefly before walking away, leaving you nervous and shaky. 

It seemed like being nervous and shaky was the new thing for you. 

“What happened to the “no wearing a shirt that’s not my boyfriend's” rule?” You could feel Erling’s hands pinching the fabric of your new shirt before you turned around to face him. His voice was filled with that unique tone he only used when he won, or got his way around something he wanted. Today, both things happened. “Looks great on you, by the way.” 

“You made me wear it, loser.” The only way to dissimulate the silent screaming you wanted to do right now was to answer with irony.

“And it’s the best decision I’ve made so far.” He stood in front of you in all his glory, clearly enjoying how pissed you were. You couldn’t help your eyes from going to his bare chest for a whole minute, biting your lip when your eyes met his. His smirk was so big, you wanted to punch him. “About to make the second one.”

So, so handsome. And so, so cocky.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” Was all you managed to say after a few seconds of pure silence, despite all the teammates roaming through the tunnel, clapping and screaming from their recent win. 

“You have a really pretty face; have you ever heard that?” He leaned in, and your heart almost escaped through your throat. You couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his. 

What if Emilia was right? Was this the right moment? He was totally flirting with you… Wasn’t he?

“I…” 

“What about this? You wait here, looking as lovely as you do right now until I shower… And then I can take you to dinner so we can celebrate the win?” He whispered the proposition like it was a promise. At this point, you couldn’t even speak. “How does that sound?” 

“Yeah, sure…” You whispered back, holding your bag so close to your chest that you could feel the handles burying themselves in your skin. 

“Perfect.” Then he kissed your cheek, and you really stopped breathing for a few milliseconds. And as you were starting to have a little panic attack, he left.

Have you just… agreed to a date with Erling Haaland? Well, fuck.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST @questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349

[so1arso1stice]

can you please write a bottom!yeji x reader? thank youuu

yas + ur welcomee

A GIRL’S FANTASY

———————————————————

stripper!softdom!yeji x f!sub!reader (reader is introverted and doesn’t really go out often)

summary: reader doesn’t really go out much, so when her friends decided to take her out to a club, they wanted to make it her best night yet 😉

warnings: smut,

an: TYSM FOR ALL OF THE LOVE ON MY LAST FIC!! SERIOUSLY ILYSM ♥️♥️♥️💕💕💕❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

inspired by another blog post i read (it was a ningning fic instead), i forgot the name so srry if it was u i sampled this from

btw pls send me more anon suggs! i love reading and writing anon suggs, but the only thing is pls give me plot!!! im not a good at coming up w/ plot

———————————————————

how did you, somebody who literally never goes out end up at a packed STRIP CLUB on a friday night? well you have your friends to thank you for that! your friends were always like “why don’t you go out?” “it’ll be fun, i promise” and “just this once, please!” eventually you started to get tired of them saying this stuff so you finally gave in and decided to waste your friday night this.

“y/n, i promise you’ll love this!” one of your friends say. “yea, and what if i don’t?” you say back. this causes your friends to roll their eyes in a sarcastic annoyance. “so, it’s the experience that counts, now come on let’s get in!” one of your other friends say as you guys enter the strip club. (pretend getting id’ed doesn’t exist here 🥰)

your goodness this was probably one of the craziest things you’ve ever seen. this huge strip club filled with tons of men and almost half naked women, it was kind of an odd sight for you. you didn’t even notice that you stopped in your tracks until one of your friends notices and says “y/n? you ok?” you nodded and your friend gave you a soft smile “i’ll be at the bar, come over if you need anything!” your friend says before she walks over to the bar, along with your other friends, leaving you alone.

you decided to just sit at one of the lounges and go on your phone, occasionally looking up at the pole dancers (i can’t blame you) until a specific one catches your eye. she was beautiful, those captivating cat eyes, that beautiful ginger hair, and stunning physique. you felt like you were being hypnotized with her beauty.

that wasn’t it, she actually walked off the stage, to you! “hey your cute, what’s your name?” you honestly thought you were dreaming. “my name is… y/n” you were honestly starting to forget your name

“that’s cute, i like that name.” you started blushing like crazy. “are you busy right now?” she asked. when she asked that you started to think about your friends, what they would think.

you thought that they would want this since they were the ones who took you out anyways. so, you nod your head no. “perfect! come with me!” she says after taking you into a room. the room was dimly lit with a chair in the middle. “can you sit in that chair?” she asks and you do just that.

she’s smiling and looks happy. randomly, she takes off her bra. “are you okay with this?” she says. you nod , excitedly waiting to see what’ll happen next. “alright, so i assume your also ok with this..?” she says as she goes to pull off your shirt, showing off your red bra. you start blushing like crazy. “yes, please continue” you speak out.

she goes down and pulls off your skirt and wet panties and starts going DOWN ON UR PUSSY. she starts to lick and kiss on your clit, slowly going deeper and into your g-spot. you were in heaven; you were a moaning mess and this was one of the best feelings you ever had.

“i-im close…” you manage to speak out. she goes faster and faster as soon as she hears your words, destined to make you cum. out of the blue she adds 2 fingers. you couldn’t handle it and had to cum all over her mouth & fingers.

“you did great. now, do it again for me.” you honestly felt tired from the first orgasm but manage to get the courage to cum again for her.

you spread your legs open, ready for her mouth again.

she smiles on your glistening pussy, then goes down to lick off the cum. she starts to each you up again like she’s hungry as FUCK. you already felt like cumming the moment her lips hit your clit.

you couldn’t help but push her head deeper inside. you didn’t want her to stop, it felt too good. “i’m close… a-again…” you said in between moans.

as soon as you said that, you came. all over the chair you were sitting on aswell. she chuckled, “i make you feel that good?”

you nodded tiredly. after that orgasm you were DRAINED. you also checked the time and noticed that it was late. “i really have to go…”

“awh, already? ok then.” she says as she gets up. you start to put back on your clothes and take your bag. “thanks for that, it honestly felt good” you say under your breath, which she still hears

“i’ll make you cum more, trust me” she says she winks and waves goodbye

you quickly leave, not noticing her comment and manage to meet your friends about to leave. “girl where were you? we were looking all over for you”

“it’s not special anyways,” you said, “let’s just get going” you say as you quickly leave and get into the car, your friends trailing behind you.

as you got in the car you checked your bag, everything that was originally there, was there! but there was something else in your bag. it was a note and it read “hwang yeji (the girl who fucked you) 000-000-0000, call me ;)”

[tsumtsumrry]

Piper

(3.4k words, literal porn without plot, sub!harry, husband!harry, language ofc, there’s a butt plug, a cock ring, and a very needy harry. )

i’ve gotten so many requests for subby harry so i decided to just write something fun before i have to go back to the serious stuff. k bye

Harry is sitting at the dinner table, knees bouncing and fingers tapping. He feels like he’s losing his fucking mind. 

“You’ve hardly touched your food, H.” Piper says, effectively getting Harry’s attention. His head shoots up to look at her, a somewhat frustrated expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright?” 

Harry knows that she knows he’s not “feeling alright”, and he thinks that that’s the most frustrating part. 

Piper gets up from her seat to walk over to Harry, she brings her hand up to his forehead and he involuntarily leans into the touch. “You don’t feel warm…” 

“M’fuckin’ burning up.” he mumbles, praying she didn’t hear him. If there’s one thing about Piper, it’s that she’s somewhat strict with attitude. She hates when Harry gives her attitude, doesn’t tolerate it. Harry is already aching for her, if he upsets her, he’ll only make his situation worse. 

Piper moves her hand to the back of his head and tangles her soft fingers in Harry’s hair. His head leans back even more to follow her touch and she smiles at him. “Think you need to sleep it off?” 

Harry looks at her, wondering whether or not that was a rhetorical question, but the tug she gives his hair tells him he was supposed to answer. The pull to his hair at least let him know that she’s actually in the bedroom mood, she wasn’t giving him much else indication. 

“No...no, m’not tired.” 

“What do you need then? Hmm?” she questions even though she knows the answer, her voice going soft like it does when they’re outside of the bedroom. 

“You. You please.” he responds and she smiles. 

“Alright then. Clean all of this up and then meet me upstairs.” 

Harry fights the urge to scream, because he’s about to fucking explode and now she’s making him do dishes? He keeps telling himself when he finishes the dishes he’ll be able to get what he wants, but he knows as soon as he gets to the bedroom he’ll be teased even more. 

Harry grumbles and gets to work on the dishes, having to refrain from smashing every plate, glass, or cup he sees and when he finishes he feels like he could cry. 

He walks up the steps to their bedroom, fidgeting, barely keeping still. He’s been waiting for this the entire day, it’s all he could think about. He wants everything she’s willing to give him, he just wants her. 

Piper hears his quick footsteps, she smiles at how clearly eager he is, and decides to tease him a bit. 

“Harry? What’s taking so long, bub?” he can hear the smirk in her voice, and he can’t tell if he wants to growl or melt at it. 

He quickens his steps and Piper has to stifle a giggle. When he walks into the room, he looks around and he has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop a desperate whimper from coming out. Piper is sitting on the edge of the bed, lip subtly between her teeth. 

On the bed, is a cock ring and a butt plug. 

Saying Harry is excited is a bit of an understatement. 

Piper watches his eyes widen, and she catches an abrupt twitch in his pants. Harry looks from the things on the bed to her face trying to convey his excitement without words, but Piper can definitely tell how excited she is. 

“Come here, Harry.” Piper beckons with a quick motion of her index and middle finger. Harry doesn’t waste any time walking over to her, stopping when he’s standing right where she is sitting. She taps his side and he takes that as a sign to kneel. He lowers himself until he’s on his knees between her slightly spread legs and then rests his head comfortably on her thigh. 

Piper smiles at how fucking adorable he is, and then brings his head up with her hand. He pouts because he knows that when he kneels he usually gets to taste her. Tasting her is a privilege to him, he loves it, and can’t stand it when she takes it away. 

Piper shakes her head at his pout and opens her mouth to speak, “I have an idea.” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his pout lessens a little bit, “wha’ is it?” He’s talking slower and thicker due to how overcome with lust he is and Piper fights the urge to shift her thighs at the sound of it. 

“Well…” she pauses to give him a slow kiss, “you’ve been working so hard lately, been so good. Was thinking I could dedicate a night to just you. Hmm? Make you cum so hard you see stars?”

Harry’s mouth parts slightly at her words and he tries to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head at the butterflies that just swarmed through every part of his body. 

Piper sees his reaction and gives him an endearing smile, “that sound like a good idea to you?” 

You’d think Harry would jump at the chance, but he was seriously debating the idea in his head. He knew that when she said ‘dedicate a night to just you’ she literally meant just him. He’s missed being between her legs, or feeling her clenched tightly around his fingers. 

To Piper's surprise, he shakes his head. “I wanna make you cum.” he says slowly, mumbling.

Piper purses her lips and looks off in thought and Harry stares intensely at her, following every movement. When she looks back to him and his eyes are already on her, she smiles. “S’your night. You can make me cum after you do. Understand?” 

Harry fights the urge to pout, because he knows she hates when he’s ungrateful, and at least he gets to pleasure her. Even if it’s not right this second. 

“Go sit up on the bed babe.” Piper instructs and Harry follows her directions instantly. 

Piper is walking around the room, getting what she thinks they need for whatever she plans to do for him and he can’t help but watch and admire her. She’s just so perfect to him, she has been since the day they met. 

He asked her to be his girlfriend a month and a half of knowing her, his brain kept telling him he rushed it, jumped the gun, but every time he saw her, just her presence alone seemed to calm all his anxiety (which he had a lot of). And when they got married, it was perfect, there literally wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was the right choice, that she was the one.

Harry has to have control over a lot of things in his life, a lot of meticulous  important things that need constant attention and care. When him and Piper first started getting intimate, it didn’t surprise her that he preferred to relinquish control in the bedroom. Being with Piper was a calm escape from all the bad shit in his life, he didn’t wanna think when he was inside of her, tasting her, hearing her, he just wanted to feel.

Harry thinks she’s the most beautiful, alluring, kind person in the entire world (although she often argues that it’s him instead), it’s not hard to fully trust and give everything he has to her. 

He’s pulled out of his love haze when Piper taps him on the hip, holding up the items previously on the bed that made his cock twitch. 

“Is it ok if I use these on you tonight?” Piper asks, to which Harry nods quickly and adds verbal consent. 

She nods and then motions to his pants, “take those off. Underwear too.” 

He does as she asks and Piper gives him a soft smile, although she’s being dominant, she’s more of a soft dom. Always assuring Harry that he’s safe, never giving him more than he can handle (although it is always fun to push limits). 

“You okay?” Harry nods. “Just gonna prep you for the plug a bit...that ok?”

At this, Harry lights up in excitement, quickly nodding his head and mumbling chants of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ he loves when she uses her fingers. 

“Want you to be on your back so I can see you at all times, yeah?” she whispers, bringing her hand up to stroke Harry’s face gently, and then sensually comb through his hair.

Harry moves to the positioning she wants him in, his knees slightly bent in the air. He’s fisting the sheets gently in anticipation, not wanting to wait any longer to finally get what he’s been craving all day. The closeness and the pleasure he feels when he’s with her is like no other. It gets his limbs shaking and his toes curling, he never wants to go without it. 

As soon as he hears the sound of a cap opening and closing, his cock twitches, and Piper smirks absentmindedly, still looking at the bottle of lube. 

Harry wants to squirm and try to get any type of friction on his cock, but he knows Piper would reprimand him for it. 

Piper makes her way over to him and gets in between his legs, “gonna be cold for a second, kay?” They’ve done this plenty of times before, but Piper makes sure to remind him every time. Communication is key in things like this. 

Harry nods eagerly, not caring if it’s cold or hot or blue or pink, he just wants her hands on him, or rather, in him. 

Piper circles her index finger around his entrance and he gasps softly at the feeling. Piper always makes sure to be extra careful with him, making sure he’s comfortable at all times. Sometimes she’s a little rough with him (per his request of course), but she’s way too gentle of a soul to ever really hurt him unless he blatantly asked for it. 

As soon as she slips her finger in, Harry lets out a drawn out moan that Piper smirks at. She toys with him for a couple minutes, hearing moans from Harry along the lines of “yes” and “fuck, right there. That’s it”, until he tells her he’s ready, and when he sees the silver butt plug, with the sparkling jewel on the tail of it, he starts to grow impatient. 

“Please fill me. Please, Pipes.” 

“Be patient, baby.” she counters and he groans. 

She slowly slips the plug inside of him and she gets a keening moan from Harry in response. 

“Yes….oh―yes” his pleasured statement starts in a whisper and ends in a hiss. 

“Good?” Piper asks him. His only response is rutting his hips down into the mattress, rocking the toy against the inside of him the best way in the process. He does it again, once, twice, before Piper finally stops him by grabbing a hold of his thigh. 

He whines but she tuts, “stop, Harry.” He nods obediently, not wanting to upset her and also wanting to get that pure bliss he’s been craving for what seems like an eternity. 

Piper had something special planned tonight, something they’ve only tried a couple of times since Piper likes to save it for special occasions. 

She had brought out the vibrating cock ring. There isn’t much of a visible difference between the regular one and the vibrating one so she can tell he hasn’t quite caught on yet. 

She can’t fight the smirk that’s set on her face when she thinks about how shocked Harry will be when he feels that jolt of pleasure. She knows he’s always been a bit fond of the vibrating cock ring, says it’s one of his favorite things she uses in the bedroom, hence why she doesn’t use it too much. She loves to keep him on his toes, leave him begging for more. 

Harry’s trying his absolute hardest not to squirm, he feels his muscles twitching, his hands are clenched into a fist, trying his best to ignore how hard he is. He just wants to be good. Her good boy. 

There’s something about the idea of her telling him that he’s getting all the pleasure tonight. Something about the thought that he’s going to feel everything, his favorite feeling of getting lost in the pleasure and not having to think about a thing but how sexy his wife is.

“Gonna put the ring on now m’kay? You remember s’pretty snug, right?” Piper inquires. She’s very adamant on checking on him at all times, them both being comfortable and safe in the bedroom is her top priority. 

“Yeah, m’good.” he responds, his voice is so hoarse and filled with gravel and he tries and fails to fight the urge to smirk because he knows it’s causing a pool in Piper’s underwear. 

Piper knows exactly what he’s thinking, though, and she can’t wait until she can wipe that cocky smirk off of his pretty face.

Piper takes a hold of his cock, using her other hand to swipe her index finger over his wet tip and he hisses harshly at the contact, “fuckin’―t-teasin’.” he grits out, teeth grinding. 

Piper smiles evilly and takes the good bit of pre-cum from his tip, spreading it all over his shaft, getting him properly lubed up for the ring. She thinks a little fun isn’t too bad, she leans down to leave an open-mouthed kiss at his tip, letting her eyes roll back into her head when she hears the moan that leaves him. 

“Please stop teasin’ me baby. I―I can’t―.” he’s been waiting for so long for this. He honestly doesn’t think he can take anymore of her cruel teasing. 

She pouts genuinely at him, and the obvious strain in his voice. She can tell he’s fighting so hard to be good, and that’s what fuels her to finally get on with it.

“It’s okay, angel. M’gonna take such good care of you.” Piper reassures him and he nods absentmindedly, his eyes fluttering shut. 

She takes the ring in her hand and eases it down his cock, Harry squeezes his eyes shut and a quiet whimper escapes him, “good?” Piper asks. 

“Yeah, yeah. S’good.” 

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” Piper says, causing Harry cock to jump a bit. He breathes out a scoff of disbelief at the effect she has on him with just a couple of words. 

Piper joins him on the bed and swings her leg around his waist, sitting gently atop his cock, “you can touch, babe.” Harry’s hands immediately go to her waist, squeezing and prodding at the skin; he’s happy at the contact. 

“Thank you, thank you.” he says, his voice nearing a whisper. 

She grabs his cock and places it at her entrance, he revels at the warmth she brings and she shudders because she’s finally getting contact on her core. 

She decides to take him by surprise, sliding down in one fluid movement, it was easy given how wet she is. He chokes out a shocked moan, squeezing her waist harshly and shifting his hips subconsciously. 

She starts to move, urging pleasured moans and whimpers out of Harry. She’s waiting until he’s exceptionally needy to turn the vibrations on. She wants to make the experience that much better for him.

She’s bouncing and swiveling down on him in fast-paced motions, Harry’s hips are periodically ticking up to meet her thrusts, moaning at every slight movement. He feels in heaven. 

“That feels so―oh! Fuck, Pipes.” he moans, his eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of her tightening around him. 

Piper figures it’s time. 

She reaches behind her, but she’s still bouncing on Harry. He’s so lost in pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut he probably hasn’t even noticed she’s moved. 

As soon as she’s got the remote control in her hand, she switches it on. 

“Fuck! Fuck, baby.” Harry moans out, louder than he has been the whole night (and that’s pretty fucking loud), “I―baby…it’s so...shit,” he’s so fucking vocal today, and Piper loves it. 

“You’re so loud, angel. I’m making you feel that good?” she says condescendingly, knowing he loves it. 

Harry’s only response is just whispered chants of “fuck” and keens along with some whimpers. There’s so many sensations, he can barely keep up. His wife is tight around him, much like the cock ring that’s shaking him to his core, and every time Piper moves, the plug he has in nudges his sensitive prostate causing immeasurable amounts of pleasure to course through his veins. He’s never felt this good.

Piper’s struggling with the added amount of sensations too (another reason she usually keeps the vibrating cock ring locked up), between Harry’s cock hitting the right spot with every swivel and bounce and the vibrator feels like it’s literally passing through every part of her body while also nudging her clit. She can’t get enough. 

She feels her release brewing in her stomach, knowing from his tell-tale signs of his legs shaking and his moans reaching a higher pitch, that Harry’s close too. 

“You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” Piper rushes out, she can see how he’s trying to chase his release. 

“I won’t. I won’t cum. Please don’t stop, please.” 

Piper is tipping over the edge, her chest is heaving, legs shaking, her moans getting more frequent, louder and louder and higher and higher, she’s quickly losing her resolve. Thinking about Harry and how he’s feeling the best he can right now, plus how fucking good he feels inside her, is what sends her pummeling over the edge. 

“Oh my fucking―I’m coming, fuck! Harry, Harry!” she continues to chant out his name like it’s a prayer, completely losing herself in the earth-shattering high she’s experiencing. She crashes down into Harry’s chest, almost completely taken out by that orgasm. 

So much so she almost doesn’t hear Harry’s whimpering and pleading, only then does she remember that she told him he couldn’t come until she gave him permission. 

“Baby? Baby I c-can’t―you feel so― I need, I need―fuck. Please, please please...please. Can I come? Tell me I can come, please.” he’s barely coherent, babbling out whatever comes to mind, whatever he thinks will get him the orgasm he so badly wants. 

The room is filled with the sound of the steady buzzing, Piper’s pants and Harry’s incessant pleading. 

He feels himself toppling over the edge, it feels so strong and he honestly cannot put any more of his energy into trying to postpone it. He wants to be good but it’s becoming increasingly harder as time goes on. 

His voice starts to get frantic. “Piper, Pipes. I need―Need to come. T-tell me I can come, Pipes. It’s―it’s too much.” 

Piper finally grips her bearings, barely recovering from the pleasure she just experienced. “It’s okay, my good boy, you can come. Come for me, you deserve it. You’re so good.” 

Harry’s hyperventilating at this point, so much so that Piper is worried that she might need to grab his inhaler, “thank you thank you thank you.” he’s rambling, near losing his fucking mind and he loves it. 

He finally comes with a loud strangled moan, emptying himself into her warmth, finally feeling that indescribable bliss he’s been yearning for for so long. He sobs out obscene moans, legs shaking and chanting “thank you” underneath his breath. 

Piper just watches it all happen, and it’s exactly what she wanted, she wanted him to feel like this. It’s how she always feels when she’s with him. 

His hips tick up a couple more times lazily, almost as if it’s involuntary and small whines and whimpers slip through his plump lips. Piper hisses from the hint of sensitivity, but takes it. 

She feels Harry’s tense muscles finally lax under her and she sighs, leaning down to take his lips into a passionate kiss.

“How the fuck was that, huh? You did so fucking good. Took everything so well” she says with an adoring smile on her face, combing her hands through the matter and tangled bush of brown on Harry’s head 

“You are so perfect, insane. It felt insane. Just…” he brings his hands in front of him and mimics an explosion “...wow.” 

“Glad you liked it,” she giggles, “I loved it too.” 

“You up for a bath?” Piper asks. At that, Harry lets out a loud cackle throwing his head back, showing off a vein that was protruding earlier. 

“Baby I don’t think I can use my legs,” he laughs “just cuddle me for a bit, yeah?”

Piper nuzzles her head into his shoulder and nods, fighting to keep her eyes open, knowing that if she falls asleep, they’ll never get up to have that bath and they’ll stay just like this with him tucked safely inside of her. 

But really, what’s so bad about that?

[stillness-in-green]

What Helck Does Right That BNHA Is Doing Wrong

I wrote this out in a spate of frustration a while back, lost it, and then was able to recover it again, so in the interest of conservation, I figure I might as well share. It contains massive spoilers for Helck—details of its ending, its overarching plot, deep world secrets, and so on—so read at your own risk if you're one of the few people following the anime. On the other hand, very few people do seem to be watching Helck, so if you watched the first episode and then dumped it for being too goofy and comedic, this write-up will definitely give you some context for where that story goes. 

(More people should read/watch Helck.  Please read this and then go read Helck.)

(If you prefer, you can also just skim the Helck bits until you get to me complaining about BNHA’s crappy endgame.  Hit the jump, either way!)

Helck: What It Does

For my readers unfamiliar with the series (e.g. probably most of you), Helck’s elevator pitch is, “After the Hero defeats the Demon King, the demons hold a tournament to select the new Demon King.  But wait, why is there a human here?!”  It’s riffing, obviously, on the foundational JRPG story, and starts out in a high-key goofy comedy mode, which, while representative of its sense of humor, is not actually very reflective of the tonal zone it winds up occupying for most of its run.  The darkness and horror elements of the series are foreshadowed by the title character—Helck, the human who showed up to join the Demon King selection tournament—cheerily proclaiming that he hates and wants to destroy all humans.  Something is very wrong in the human lands, it seems, and the main character—Vamirio, one of the Four Heavenly Kings of the demon empire, sent to oversee the tournament—uncovering and then responding to that wrong forms the bulk of the story.

That said, it takes a good long while for Helck to reveal the true nature of its conflict.  While there are some key villainous figures that have been in play for long before that point, the ultimate truth is that the world of Helck contains a disembodied force that contacts people when they’re in their darkest, most despairing moments, providing them an “answer” for why their situations are so miserable and how to go about fixing the world that hurt them so badly, as well as power to help them do so.  The answer given by this force, called “The Will of the World,” is twisted and omnicidal, but between a degree of implied mental influence and the timing of the approach, lots of otherwise innocent, hurt people can wind up becoming the figures behind literally world-threatening dangers.

Eventually, we find out that Helck himself was approached by The Will when he was a child in a bad situation.  He wasn’t quite ready to give in yet—he had a kid brother to look out for—and so he powered past it, but it’s remained in the back of his head since that day, ever-ready to whisper its apocalyptic solutions to extreme class disparity and abuse.  This gives him a degree of empathy for the villains of the series, even as they do extremely awful stuff that he can’t otherwise forgive.

In the epilogue, a new king is crowned and we’re generally assured that things in Helck’s country are going to improve from now on.  The demons are developing magical treatment to reverse a once-thought-irreversible transformation from sentient person into mindless monster, preparing groups that will venture forth to find all the affected humans still wandering the countryside so that they can be helped.  Helck himself could easily rest on his laurels, either settling in with the human friends he had to go to extreme lengths to save or accepting his demon friends’ invitation to come live with them, the ones who fought at his side and gave him hope when he was so often on the verge of despair.

But he does neither, because he knows that The Will of the World is still out there whispering to other people in pain—it’s a force of nature that will always be out there, until someday it succeeds at finding someone it can use to overturn and restart the world.  It can never be killed, only circumvented.  However, The Will can’t act on its own, only through those that have fallen under its sway, and those people don’t start out as raving, gleefully evil maniacs! They start out as people experiencing unconscionable suffering, because people suffering to that extent are the only ones who can be convinced to believe that the answer is total annihilation.

Helck knows better than to assume that simply installing one good king in one overall-good country will be enough to save everyone in the world—or even in that one country!—from despair, and he’s intimately familiar with what that despair is like.  So, he packs up with one of his besties and they set out on a journey that will, implicitly, never really have an end.  Of course, he’ll come visit his friends and loved ones from time to time, but what he’s really dedicating himself to is finding and rescuing other people, other victims, giving them reasons to hope, reasons to believe in the world as it is now, because, as he himself experienced, that’s the only thing that can really stop someone from falling prey to The Will of the World.

Saving those victims is a practical means of preventing all the harm they would have gone on to wreak, yes, but it also means said victims don’t have to be put to the sword when they turn up at the head of an army of monsters or some shit a few decades down the line.

Helck’s answer to the problem of recurrent, inevitable suffering is thus threefold:

Improve the system at large by clearing out the corruption on top.

Dedicate active, ongoing efforts to redressing the sins of the previous system and helping its victims, even if they seem too far gone.

Proactively seek out and bring aid to problem areas before the sufferers there metastasize into world-shaking dangers.

Its characters are involved in all three of those stages—the heroic side cast does Point 1, Vamirio and her allies handle Point 2, and Helck takes up the responsibility of Point 3.  He goes out into the world to be that extra safety net when the better society he helped put in place inevitably still fails people, in places where his allies can’t reach.  To find them—the people who are in such bad situations that apocalypse looks like a reasonable solution—he’s going to have to wade, personally, into the deepest and worst mires he can find, pulling people out of that darkness one hand at a time.

As a series, then, Helck believes in systemic change while also believing that systemic change will never be sufficient on its own to prevent all suffering.  However, rather than then simply shrugging and accepting that suffering is inevitable and so the heroes will have no choice but to deal violently with the people who fell through the cracks when they inevitably return as dangerous villains, it sends its hero out to do that ground-level work of saving people.  And he himself isn’t enough either, but his actions are still meaningful, because every life he saves is both that one soul saved from darkness, and one more vector cut off that could otherwise spiral into exponential amounts of suffering and death.

BNHA: What It's Not Doing

We can see an echo of the path into darkness which turns victims into villains in BNHA, where the villains are not Born Monsters, but rather become monsters because of the circumstances of their lives.  The pain they endure, the discrimination and violence they face, leads them to their extremist reactions to try and repair—or simply destroy—a world they perceive as fundamentally hostile to them.  While there’s no overarching Will of the World manipulating them for its own ends—All For One is akin to it in how he operates, but at the end of the day, he’s still just another man, not a literal planetary anima—the end result remains the same: people forged by suffering into enemies so dangerous and resolute that they threaten the entire foundation of the world as it currently exists, as well as all those who are living in peace and happiness in the current world.

So, when faced with the prospect of enemies who are an unavoidable consequence of the endurance of the status quo (because the status quo the heroes have chosen to support is full of discrimination and repression), what exactly is BNHA proposing to do about those enemies arising in the future?  How will the heroes’ course of action regarding those enemies be different at the end of the story than it was at the beginning?  Well, so far we’ve got:

Shouji functionally telling the heteromorphs at the hospital that all they can do is endure their suffering until the people around them decide on their own to improve.

Even as she’s embraced by a Hero, Toga believing there’s no possible ending in which she can reach a world she wants to live in, and so resigning herself to finding a satisfactory death instead.

The seeming resolution of the subplot concerning the civilians lashing out at the heroes for their failure being for them to collectively agree to support heroes even more, with no explanation of what that would change for the children out of view of a hero, like Tenko was, or being victimized by a hero, like Touya.

I feel like the manga wants us to believe that the future will be better because heroes as a group, inspired by the kids of 1-A and with the corruption of the HPSC purged, are going to be more empathetic towards villains as a group going forward.  I don’t believe that, however, thanks to even the students’ (and especially Deku’s) continued willingness to completely ignore the humanity of the villains they don’t have pre-existing bonds with.  Their empathy for “their” designated villains is admirable, certainly, and a good start on the necessary change, but it’s not sufficient if it starts and ends with that highly conditional empathy.

What is going to be different on a systemic level to help people like Toga or Spinner?  What will change in society at large such that the average person on the street will become willing to help someone off-putting and potentially dangerous like Tenko or Jin?  What overhaul of professional heroism can we expect to help prevent situations like Touya’s or assuage the generational grudges behind Mr. Compress or Re-Destro?  What new oversight mechanisms will be put in place to prevent more children from being scooped up to be raised as weapons like Lady Nagant and Hawks?  What can be done to catch people like Muscular or Moonfish at a younger age and intervene before they grow up into murderers?  What better counselling programs in prison could be introduced such that someone like Ending might actually be less suicidal when their prison sentence ends than they were when it began?  What social safety nets need to be strengthened such that children like Overhaul and Geten wind up in normal, loving homes with the resources to help them sort through their issues rather than criminal organizations and cults?

After the dust settles on this endgame, what in god’s name is going to change?

Further, even if those changes are enacted, what are the main characters going to do personally for those who still slip through the cracks?  As @robotlesbianjavert wrote previously, once everything has been done as best it can for the greater good, what’s the second safety net there to catch those who can’t be saved in the greater good’s first pass?

BNHA vs. Helck's Threefold Answer

Consider again the three points Helck’s ending contained—improve the system, care for the victims that already exist, and proactively seek to prevent the creation of new victims—and contrast them to how things are going in BNHA’s end game.

1: Have the main characters improved the system?

No, not at all.  The most concrete change to the system has surely been the death of the HPSC President, but no heroes had no hand in that, much less one of the kids.  Clone Re-Destro took her out, one villain to another, so no hero had to sully their hands or risk taking on the very office that grants them their authority.  Even with her death, we have no guarantee that whoever takes her position next will be any different than she was.

All Might’s retirement shook the system, but the series is out there as I type this recanonizing All Might and his legacy as wholly beyond reproach. 

Endeavor and Hawks were exposed as, respectively, an abuser and a murderer on national TV and absolutely no official consequences befell them.

A heteromorphic mob stormed a hospital and the best a professional hero could muster was a feeble apology for not “realizing sooner,” with not a single word from anyone about being more mindful going forward.

Ujiko was removed from the web of orphanages he was maintaining, but there’s been nothing to address how he managed to get away with cultivating his “seedbeds of hatred and ferocity” right out in the open for decades, either, and so we have no real reason to believe the vulnerable children in those institutions are going to be safe from the next unscrupulous figure with ulterior motives to come along after him.

There’s been no recognition whatsoever of the role quirk counselling played in Toga’s repression, no discussion of making prisons more humane, no intention stated of making the current system even the tiniest bit less regressive via actual changes to the law and government-funded social safety nets.  The system shows no signs whatsoever of improving, least of all due to any actions on the part of the main characters.

Neither Deku nor any other student has shown the faintest inclination to push back against the reactionary violence demanded of them by the system they intend to join.  While they may act mercifully on their own time, they are wholly unwilling to actually protest against the authority that gives them their orders.

2: Are the main characters making efforts to care for the victims that already exist?

Yes and no.  This is about the only one I can give them even partial credit for, but partial credit they do still get. 

Ochaco made a world-shaking offer for Toga, one that melted away Toga’s aggression and brought her violence to a dead stop.  That’s amazing!  Shouto has managed to stop Dabi from killing himself and everyone around him against all odds, and we have every indication that he’ll keep dedicating himself to that for as long as it takes.  Deku has concretely changed the paths of Gentle Criminal, La Brava and Lady Nagant,[*] and I have little reason to believe he’ll do any less for Shigaraki, however that turns out to look.  Attempts are even being made to help the Noumu, following the reveal of Shirakumo’s lingering presence in Kurogiri.

…But that’s about where it stops.

[*] I hate absolutely everything about the way Lady N reacted to him, mind you, but what’s on the page is on the page.

Shouji never bothered to actually ask Spinner or Scarecrow what drove them to villainy, nor do we have any indication that he’s going to follow up with them now that the riot they were leading has been quelled.

Deku’s compassion begins and ends with people whose motivations he can understand; he has none to spare on those whose desires and goals are alien to him, or he attaches that compassion to stone-hearted ultimatums he has no authority to make.

Tsuyu’s got Ochaco’s back, and Iida has a line that you could interpret as being charitably disposed towards Dabi, but no one else in the class seems to be making any efforts to reach out to villains.  Shinsou might have brought Gigantomachia to a place where he could confront AFO, but he damn sure didn’t give him a choice in the matter.

Things are even worse on the professional level.  Between the flying coffin and the mass arrests, we’ve had no indication that the Pros are doing or are interested in doing the first damn thing to try and help the victims of their flawed status quo.

The first thing Hawks does when confronted with a risen Twice is scream to kill him again, for god’s sake.  That’s as clear an indication as I could possibly ask for that nothing he’s experienced has altered Hawks’s methods or his willingness to use them.

As I said above, the empathy a tiny handful of students have for their villain foils is commendable, but insufficient to serve as tidemarks indicating an improved status quo.

3: Is there any indication that the main characters will proactively seek to prevent the pain that leads to the birth of villains? 

No.  In fact, under the current system, that isn’t even possible for them.  That is simply not what professional heroism is or does.  Under the current system, heroes are definitionally reactive; they’re not there as a preventative against suffering so much as they’re a topical ointment for it once it’s already arisen.  Because the role of heroes seems on track to remain the same as it ever was, heroes can’t go into the dark places because that’s simply not their job.

Addressing bigotry and discrimination is not a hero’s job unless someone perpetuating it is using their quirk to do so.

Preventing domestic abuse is not a hero’s job even if a quirk is in use because quirk use is legal inside the home; abuse is thus a problem for police and social workers to handle, not heroes.

Dealing with corrupt systems and repressive laws is not a hero’s job because they’re enforcers for systems and laws; they can try to change them through the legal pathways available to all citizens, but they can’t bring their powers to bear without becoming villains themselves.

Heroes cannot walk into the heart of darkness of Hero Society because their job is to exist outside, in the open, in the light.  Their only function is to stop villains—people using their quirks illegally—and to help out in disaster situations.  That’s it.  That’s all they’re there to do.  And if the parameters of their jobs don’t change, that’s all they’re ever going to be able to do: try to talk a victim who’s already gone sour out of getting worse.

As it stands, if the 1-A kids are still just running around being Cool Heroes Punching Out Villains in the epilogue, they are failing to act as the second layer of aid Helck represents, but rather still only acting as their society’s last defense against those who have become twisted by pain and unaddressed need.  In effect, they will continue to be the sword that puts down a monster rather than the hand that reaches out to a victim before the monster can be born.

Right now, I have seen precious little to convince me that, ten years down the line, they’re going to be anything more than fractionally better heroes than their predecessors were—punching first, asking questions virtually never, standing around in the aftermath congratulating themselves for their victories, posing for cameras as the people they just unthinkingly pummeled get packed into police cars to be dumped into a perfunctory legal system followed by a monstrously inhuman carceral complex. 

The Impact of Timing

Is anyone thinking that it's not fair of me to compare stuff in BNHA's endgame to stuff in Helck's epilogue? Couldn't most of my complaints be handwaved in BNHA's epilogue?  I mean, I guess, yeah, but with the small problem that such a resolution would be incredibly unsatisfying.

The thing with Helck is, that series doesn’t leave those three points for the epilogue; rather, its epilogue is a natural extension of the choices its characters have been making all along.

Helck leaves his chain of command, his kingdom, even his own species, when he realizes how deep their corruption runs.  Helck’s struggle to overcome corrupt authority is the foundation the entire series rests on, from its beginning hook of, “Human hero tries to become the new Demon Lord,” to its climax of fighting against The Will of the World itself.  (Point 1: Improve the system.)

Vamirio decides upon getting to know Helck that humans, her enemies, are ultimately victims of the corrupt power manipulating them.  She shouts out loud her intention to save them, exulting in the sense of relief it gives her to clear away her uncertainty and come to that decision.  Later, she passionately declares that she will disobey orders from her Emperor himself, if those orders are to fight humans with the intent of killing them.  She’s a figure of authority amidst her own kind, but she is more than willing to go against that authority—and vocally so—if her morals tell her she must.  (Point 2: Dedicate active efforts to helping the victims of the corrupt system, even if they already seem too far gone.)

I’ve already talked about Helck’s decision to wander the earth in the series’s epilogue, and this of all points would seem most likely to be relegated to the aftermath, but no, dedication to preventing future tragedies can be found in the body of the series itself as well.  Vamirio’s peer Azudora has history with both humans and the transformations wrought by The Will of the World, and he’s been working on a cure since before the series even began.  His efforts bring hope to the series at a critical point and provide a model for Helck’s decision at the series’s end, as both men make the same choice: to devote their lives to the hope of doing something that will better the future, even if it doesn’t change things for those who have already been lost.  (Point 3: Proactively work to save today’s victims so that they don’t become tomorrow’s monsters.)

In essence, the entire run of Helck is dedicated to presenting the problem Vamirio and Helck are facing, exploring how and why they come to the decisions they do about how to solve that problem, and then forcing them, over and over, to face down their own doubt and fear, their allies’ hesitancy, and their opponents’ highly dedicated efforts to break them down and defeat them, be it through force of arms or despair.  The heroes get the ending they do because they decide on the ending they want and then they spend the rest of the series damn well fighting for it.

BNHA’s epilogue handing the kids the passel of resolutions and changes they so desperately need for their bright futures to be remotely convincing—offscreened, timeskipped victories to battles they haven’t even yet realized the need to fight!—will just cement this rant’s contention that the series and its heroes don’t have half of the clarity of purpose and intellectual integrity of Helck and its lead duo of shounen manga Determinators.

In summary, please read Helck.

Disclaimer at the bottom: I don’t want to utterly oversell Helck here.  The way it handles its classism angle is simplistic, even reductive, a bog-standard portrayal of, “All nobles are cartoonishly evil save the one (1) pure-hearted exception who just isn’t for some reason.”  Its big change to its corrupt system at the end is simply to replace a “bad king” with a “good king,” which is self-evidently not a change that’s guaranteed-effective beyond the good king’s lifespan.  Further, there’s obviously going to be a difference in realism between a story set in a medieval fantasy JRPG world and one set in a modified version of real-life, present-day Japan—BNHA does portray a much more complex, well-articulated society.

Still, even acknowledging that comparing the two series is kind of comparing apples and mandrakes, it’s striking to me how similar the themes are when you strip out the language of their respective genre idioms.  Both are interrogating notions of traditional heroism and villainy, examining what drives villains, pushing to recognize the humanity in the traditionally monstrous. In that sense, Helck is just across-the-board better, more honest, and more passionate at portraying those themes, while BNHA consistently gestures at them only to bafflingly write them off again the moment they get a little too challenging to deal with.

[bettsfic]

Adventures in plotting….

To have some structure and not get bogged down by decision fatigue, I decided to outline and do some pre planning before starting on a writing project. However, I noticed that I start thinking about the logistics of everything to the point where I break the story or at least what excited me in the first place and spend months plotting one idea to the next not finishing anything.

I saw in a previous ask that you recommended to just outline until you find a story that you can’t help but write <—paraphrasing. But I fear that I will never finish a project this way because of this patterns and how much time it takes me.

I guess my question is, how to not break your story when planning or plotting?

i don't think you can actually break a story. you can only take it in a direction beyond your skill or interest in completing it. if you plot beyond your skill level, the only fix is time. it may take a few months or a year or five years but eventually you'll pick it up and go "oh shit, i know how to do this now" and your future self will thank you for doing all this planning for them so they can just hit the ground running.

if you plot beyond your interest, it means the outline has breached its scope. a detailed outline can only get you so far, because when you start writing, the process of discovery drafting will veer you away from it, and the work is then reeling it back toward the outline, or changing the outline.

because i have terms for everything, the terms i use for this are "big mind" and "small mind." you cannot have big mind and small mind at the same time. decision fatigue in writing without an outline comes from putting too much work on small mind. breaking your plot from outlining is putting too much work on big mind. the fix is to give them shifts. big mind clocks in and does as much as it can thinking of big picture things like conflict and rising action and working toward a resolution. but as soon as big mind gets tired, it has to clock out so small mind can clock in. small mind focuses on getting words on the page. and sometimes small mind, being second shift, fucks up the morning shift for big mind by deviating from the outline, and big mind has to clean everything up because it is the far more responsible one of the two. big mind and small mind are forever in a battle of passive-aggressive shift changes.

sometimes one of them takes PTO and you go through a long period planning stuff you don't end up writing, or writing stuff you don't end up finishing. there's nothing really to be done about this except for waiting for the other one to come back from vacation.

so tl;dr when you feel yourself getting close to breaking a project by over-planning it, let yourself clock out from thinking big picture, reset, and clock back in to get some sentences on the page, even if they're headed in the completely wrong direction.

[gx-gameon]

I have been thinking about your war about the Dark World arc all day lol. I think maybe a mix of some of the ideas you have. Maybe some of the DM crew end up with Zane and Aster and see illusions of Jaden dying. They don’t find the real Jaden until they meet up with Axel and learn he’s the Supreme King. And maybe instead of using the Adrian gaining Exodia only to lose to Yubel plot point, have one of the DM crew chase Yubel after her duel with Zane and lose, firing up Jaden more to defeat Yubel and save Jesse.

I think I’m going to blend most of them together.

I think the DM crew are going to end up in a different part of the Dark world. Maybe not with Zane and Aster but their own area.

Maybe when they are searching Yubel sends a fake Jaden over and kills him in front of them.

They recognizes Silent Magician and Mahad from when they would protect little Jaden from them.

Yubel knows Yugi and the others are going to be a problem. They are taking enemies out to fast and Yubel needs to slow them down.

They’re already messing with Jaden using copies of Jesse might as well make copies of Jaden.

It really freaks the DM crew out until Atem confirms that it wasn’t Jaden.

They keep looking for Jaden and start to hear rumors of the Supreme King.

They run into Axel who just watched Jim lose.

He tells them that the Supreme King is Jaden.

The arm crew splits up. Some staying with Axel and meeting up with Aster and Zane. The others going to do recon on the Supreme King.

I think Yugi, Atem, Téa and Tristan will stay with the kids. Yugi wants to run to his son but maybe he over extended himself after watching fake Jaden die?? Atem won’t leave him. And the others don’t want to rush the Supreme King only to find out it’s another trap. Another fake Jaden.

Seto and Joey go to see the Supreme King.

Maybe they get separated by forces.

Maybe Joey ends up dueling against the Supreme King (I will have to wait until my rewatch before I set anything in stone. But the more I think about it the more I like the idea of someone form the DM cast losing to the Supreme King. Joey hits extra hard because he is Jaden’s favorite uncle)

Seto returns with double bad news. It is Jaden (and maybe Joey is gone (still up in the air)

If Joey is gone the DM cast can’t wrap their heads around it. They lost Joey….to Jaden. The kids not in control right now but it still hurts and they know Jaden will never forgive himself for this.

They go to deal with the Supreme King

Axel still duels him and frees Jaden.

Zane and Yubel still have their duel (I know I skipped some stuff it’s been a while)

If Joey didn’t bit it at the SK’s castle then he chases after Yubel here and loses (I love him I promise)

If Joey is already gone Yubel can see how unbalanced that made Jaden and decides to target more of the family.

Téa and Tristian are easy pickings for Yubel to go after. Maybe they separate them from the group and Jadne and the others only show up in time to see a possessed Jesse send them ‘to the stars’

Again nothing is set in stone until I rewatch season three. I’m over half way done with season 1 so it will take me some time.

But I just have a lot of ideas.

You all just get the joy of living in my head and watching my writing process.

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ fake dating - tbaw. ⋙ sometime during arc 1.

why was it deleted. ididn't really like the fake dating plotline for this story because it meant that any development between jean/reader would be seen as cheating from jean's perspective, and it seemed out of character for him to do that after his history with pieck. having this fic be a love triangle with a fake dating storyline didn't really make sense. what changed. you ask eren to be your fake boyfriend instead of just friends with benefits. eren already knows he's in love with you at this point. you get a little bit of jean's pov here. jean and eren's relationship isn't as toxic/strained as in the published story. tbh this almost feels like an entirely different story, it's so weird to read it compared to what's on ao3. ft. fem!reader, eren, jean, connie, sasha. cw. unedited, explicit language, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected, creampie, overstimulation/crying, name calling: slut, exhibitionism-ish), second person pov, 5,000 words.

Please remember that this scene was deleted for a reason and that nothing that happens here occurs in the actual story posted on AO3. This is just fun bonus content for people who are interested in reading more.

context. none needed.

You text Eren later that day, asking him to come over so the two of you can talk. Eren’s not sure what you want to talk about, but he rushes over anyway, excited to see you.

When you let him into your house, his heart clenches at the sight of you. You look happy again, for the first time in a while.

He can’t control the smile on his face as you lead him up into your bedroom and quietly shut the door behind you. “What do you wanna talk about?” He asks, settling into your bed as you sit on the edge next to him.

“You can’t laugh, ok?” you say, Eren can see you pouting at him from the corner of his eye.

“I promise.”

You lace your fingers with his as Eren struggles to focus on your face. “Did you ever see that Netflix movie with Lana Condor?”

“Who?”

“To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before?”

Eren wasn’t familiar, but hearing you say the title makes his heart tighten. Were you going to confess your feelings for him? He wanted to pull you into his lap but you were sitting a little too far away. “No, I haven’t seen that one,” he says as he scootches closer to you until your thighs are pressed against one another.

“It’s about a girl who writes letters to all the boys she’s loved --”

“Uh huh,” Eren says, his hand squeezing around yours.

“-- and her little sister mails them all out - whatever, it doesn’t really matter the whole plot.” You wave your other hand in dismissal as Eren brushes a loose strand of hair out of his face and behind his ear.

“Come on,” Eren urges, squeezing your hand tighter. “Tell me about the movie - or whatever.”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at Eren and he wants to grab your face and kiss you, but he waits.

“I don’t know if you’ll be into it, but I have this crazy idea I wanted to run by you.”

Spit it out.

“Do you want to be my fake boyfriend?”

Eren feels like his brain is lagging. “Your… what?”

“In the movie, the two characters fake date to make the guy’s ex-girlfriend jealous,” you explain, looking away. “Jean was really jealous of us hooking up, so I think that if you and I fake date, I can finally help him realize his feelings for me.”

Jean fucking Kirstein. It all comes back to him.

With your face turned away, you don’t see the disappointment etched on Eren’s face. He pulls his hands free from yours and leans back on the bed to rest on his forearms, running a hand through his hair as he thinks.

Fake date the girl he’s in love with to make the guy she’s in love with jealous - how pathetic.

“We can like, hook up and stuff, just like before,” you say. “But then also, you can like, stay the night at my place and join us for movie nights and stuff.” You shrug and look over at him, blushing in embarrassment. “Is that ok? Or is that weird?”

“Sure,” he says. He’d be pathetic for you.

You smile at Eren and it all feels worth it. “Thanks, Eren,” you say with a sigh and you toss your leg across his hips, straddling him on the bed. “Do you want to hook up right now?”

Yes, desperately. “What about your roommates?” he asks, looking up at you as you run your hands up and down his chest. 

“They’re not home right now,” you say before leaning forward to kiss softly against Eren’s neck. “Sasha’s playing soccer and the boys are out picking up food for movie night.”

“Movie night’s tonight?” Eren asks, laying flat on his back so his hands can press into your thighs. 

“Well, it’s the long weekend, so movie night is every night,” you laugh against his skin. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I want to,” he says, voice low as his fingers slide under the fabric of your shorts to grab your ass. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

Fake dating isn’t what Eren wants from you, but it doesn’t sound so bad when you’re grinding on his lap like this. And you want him to stay the night and hang out with your friends - that sounds great. So what if you’re just using him to make Jean jealous? 

Eren knows Jean doesn’t give a shit about you, so it doesn’t matter how jealous you make him, he’ll still be fucking oblivious. And Eren will get to fuck you and kiss you and hold your hand and sleep in your bed. This plan sounds better and better the more Eren thinks about it.

He flips you over on to your back, caging his arms around your head as he looks down at you. “Fake dating,” he says, dipping his head down to bite at your neck. “So I get to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend, right?”

You hum in response, tilting your head to the side to allow Eren more space to lick and suck and bite. You wrap your legs around his hips, locking your ankles together behind him, and pull him tight against your body as his lips roam across your collarbones.

“I can hold your hand and shit at work? Take you for lunch? Fuck you in the break room?”

You try to laugh but it’s cut off by a moan with Eren sinks his teeth into your skin. He slides off the floor and on to his knees next to the bed, tugging on the waistband of your shorts to pull them off of your hips. He needs to taste you.

[DELETED ORAL SEX SCENE FROM HERE AND PUT INTO CHAPTER 16]

You don’t know how long has passed and how many orgasms he’s pulled from you by the time Jean and Connie return home. Even in your post-/pre-/mid-orgasmic haze, you can still hear Connie yelling when he enters the house.

You look down at Eren through half-lidded eyes, pulling harder on his hair to pull his mouth from you. “Eren -- stop -- they --” you can hardly speak as his eyes flick up to meet your gaze, glinting with mischief as he draws another choked orgasm from your exhausted body.

You hear a faint knocking on your door over the lewd sounds of Eren’s tongue on your cunt. “Are you home? We’re gonna start dinner soon.” It’s Jean.

“Don’t open the door!” you say quickly, eyes looking down at Eren in alarm as he pauses - finally.

“You ok?” Jean asks from the other side.

Eren gets up from off the floor, leaning his body over yours as his fingers play with your clit. His face is covered in you and it makes your heart lurch in your chest. Why did the boys have to come home already?

“Hey, you good?” Jean asks, knocking again.

“Yes!” you gasp as Eren plunges his fingers inside of you. You can’t tell how many he’s pushed into you, but the sensation of finally being filled after being tortured with his tongue for so long almost makes you come undone on the spot.

Jean asks another question from outside your room and all you can do is cover your mouth from a strangled moan as Eren’s fingers curl inside of you.

“We’ll come out in a sec,” Eren says, voice calm and collected as you fuck yourself on his hand. “Sasha home yet?” he asks and you look up at him pained.

Jean doesn’t answer right away. “No, she’s still at soccer.”

“When’s she coming back?”

You can’t believe Eren’s having a conversation with Jean with his fingers buried in your cunt. You pray that Jean doesn’t decide to open the door, but you’re certain he can hear the wet squelching noises as Eren’s hand pumps against you. Your eyes water as your pussy flutters tightly around his fingers when Eren brings you over the edge into another orgasm.

“Uh,” Jean stumbles over his words. “Soon, probably.”

Removing his fingers from inside of you, he pulls his sweats down off his hips to let his hard, aching cock spring free from his pants. He guides it to your entrance and pushes inside you roughly as he says, “Yes, that’s great.”

His voice is tight as he slowly pumps into you and you have to clench your eyes shut and clamp your hand over your mouth to stop your desperate whiny moans from escaping. “Do you need help making dinner?” he calls.

Tears are freely falling from your eyes as Eren rocks his hips against your sore, overstimulated pussy. You can hardly breathe, much less speak - and here he is having a conversation with Jean about dinner like he’s not balls deep inside of you. You would be pissed if he didn’t feel so good.

“No, we’re good.” Jean says sharply and you finally hear his footsteps walking away from outside of your door.

“Do you think he knew?” Eren asks, whispering against your ear as he grinds down into your hips. “Think he knew I had you spread out like this for me like my own little slut?”

Eren loves the way you squeeze around him when he fills you like this. He wishes you wouldn’t muffle your noises for him, he wants to hear you begging for him.

He wants to tease you more until you’re limp and satisfied in his arms, but his cock aches for release and he finds himself spilling into you suddenly without warning. Eren gasps and grunts into your neck when he cums as your body trembles beneath him from exhaustion.

You finally pull your hands away from your face and try to blink up at him. Your eyes are blurry from the tears and your mind is dizzy from arousal, but you can still see Eren’s soft eyes as he looks down at you. 

When he pulls away, both of you are breathing hard. “So how was that?” he asks, pulling out of you and rolling next to you on the bed. He pulls his sweats back up his hips to cover himself as you continue to lay next to him, spread out and covered in each others’ mess.

“Is that how you fuck all of your girlfriends?” you ask, breathless.

“Just the fake ones,” he winks before sitting up. He looks around your room for a box of tissues to clean you up with, finding one on your desk next to some papers and pictures of you and your friends.

His eyes linger over one of the pictures. It’s the same as the one you have set up at your desk at work, the one with Connie, Sasha, and Jean. He comes back over to the bed to clean off your thighs with the tissues as your eyes fall shut, exhausted.

“You still don’t have a picture of me.” He says and you crack an eye open to look at him.

You smile up at him, watching as he gets up off the bed to return your box of tissues before allowing your eyes to flutter shut again. He wanders around your room, opening your dresser drawers until he finds your sweatpant drawer and pulls out a pair to toss over to you. He leaves you to get dressed while he looks around your room. He likes to see pieces of you scattered across the room.

He knows you're taking a couse with Titan to improve your technical knowledge, so he’s not surprised to find your notes and textbooks littered across your desk. He scans your bookshelves to see all sorts of different novels: romance, thriller, even some manga - all scattered amongst more photos of you, Sasha, Connie, and Jean. He knows the four of you were close, he always saw you together at parties and at hockey games, but based on the photos you have in your room, it seems like they’re your only friends. 

When you find the strength, you pull on the sweats that Eren gave you and try to smooth down your hair in the reflection of your mirror near your bed. You look like a fucked out mess, but once your blush comes down you think you’ll be ok.

“What’re you looking at?” you ask, noticing for the first time that Eren’s snooping through your bookshelf. 

“Nothing,” he says quietly, turning back to you. You’re still laying sprawled out on the bed and he almost feels bad for feeling himself stir in his sweatpants as he looks down at you, but then he remembers you’re dating now.

Or fake dating, whatever.

“You ready to go help with dinner? I think you promised Jean we’d help,” you say with a laugh.

“He said not to bother.” Eren pulls his hoodie off and tosses it over to you, leaving him in just his grey sweats and black v-neck shirt. You catch it and look over at Eren, confused. “If we’re dating, you should probably wear some of my shit,” he says, looking away to hide his blush.

With a smile, you pull his hoodie on over your tank. You’re swimming it in and it falls just past your ass, but it’s soft and it smells like vanilla. “Good call,” you say. “Have you done this before?”

“Dated girls? Yeah,” Eren scoffs.

“Right,” you say, feeling your chest tighten. “We should go.”

When the two of you leave your room, Eren ducks into the bathroom to clean himself off, leaving you to wander into the kitchen alone. Jean sees you come in first, eyes narrowing at the oversized black hoodie.

You walk over to the sink and wash you hands, looking over at the two boys on either side of you, chopping vegetables for your dinner tonight. “Sorry, I should have let you guys know he was coming over. We’re going to need more food.”

“Huh?” Connie says, clueless.

“Eren’s going to stay for movie night,” you explain, looking over at him with a smile.

“You’re still fucking him?” Jean asks, voice sharp and tight.

You feel Eren’s arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He rests his head on your shoulder as he looks over at Jean, smirking. “More than fucking, Kirstein. We decided to make things official.”

You can’t see the way Jean’s jaw tightens as he looks over at Eren wrapped around you. His whole body flinching when Eren says official. “Oh, is that right?” Jean says through clenched teeth.

Jean definitely seems jealous as he looks at the two of you together and Eren can feel his smirk falter. He knows Jean is a conniving, manipulative fuck-face, and your little fake dating plan might work a lot faster than Eren wants it to. 

He’s not sure how much time he’ll have with you before Jean fucks with your head again.

“Woah, congratulations guys!” Connie cheers, high-fiving you with a huge grin on his face. “Does that mean Eren’s gonna be around all the time?”

“If that’s ok,” you say quickly, wanting to turn to look at Jean but being unable to do so with Eren on your shoulder.

“That’s fine, man, it’s been a while!” Connie says, lightly punching Eren’s shoulder.

Eren pulls away from you and punches Connie back gently, the two falling into easy conversation as they rekindle their friendship from before Eren and Jean’s falling out.

When Eren steps away, you’re finally able to look over at Jean to try to get a read on how he’s feeling. His face is turned away from you, focusing on chopping onions for tonight, but he can see you looking at him from the corner of his eye.

“I thought you weren’t dating,” he says, so quietly that you almost don’t hear him.

“I changed my mind,” you say, glancing over at Connie and Eren to see if they’re paying attention to the two of you. “After getting to know him better, I realized that I have feelings for him.”

It’s a lie, but you can see Jean’s whole body tense from your words.

Tense from the fact that, yet again, you’re running back into the arms of Eren fucking Jaeger. 

It makes you giddy to see such an obvious physical reaction and you almost break out in a grin because of it. Instead, your attention turns to the main door as Sasha walks in with a shriek.

“Eren?” she asks, mouth falling open as her bags drop to the floor.

Eren turns away from his conversation with Connie to smile at Sasha. Her eyes bounce from Eren’s face to his hoodie on you and back again. “Oh my God, are you two together?”

He slings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you tight into his chest, pressing his lips softly against your own as Sasha shrieks again. He pulls away, just enough to brush his nose against your as he looks down at you. Your heart pounds in your chest and you have to look away from his intense gaze, flustered.

“Yeah, Sash,” he says, still looking at you. “We are.”

---

You fall asleep in Eren’s arms during the first movie, exhausted from how you and Eren spent the afternoon. Connie and Sasha all but bombard him with questions when they notice.

“Eren, this is so exciting!” Connie whisper-yells, clapping quietly. “This has been such a long-time coming with you two.”

“I can't believe it!” Sasha squeals, leaning forward across the coffee table to get closer. “She couldn’t get enough of The Eren Jaeger.”

Eren tries to stifle back his laughter as his two goofy friends rattle off at him. It feels good to hear them talk about how happy they are for the two of you, even if he knows it’s all fake on your end.

“I doubt it’s gonna last,” Jean says from the other end of the couch. Sasha and Connie both whip around to scold him as Eren’s narrowed eyes meet Jean’s. 

“How could you say that?” Sasha says angrily, slapping Jean across the chest. “Be supportive of your friends!”

“Ow, Sasha!” Jean flinches from Sasha’s hit, but he doubles down. “Eren’s a fucking prick. You’ve all seen the way he treated the girls at school. He’s just taking advantage of her.”

“I’m taking advantage of her?” Eren growls and you stir in his arms from the rumbling in Eren’s chest.

You blink up at Eren with sleepy eyes as the everyone around you hushes. “Sorry,” you say, voice soft and quiet. “Did I fall asleep?”

“You’re good, babe,” he says, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. When he pulls away he fixes a hard stare on Jean, who’s ignoring everyone around him by focusing on the movie on the tv.

“You guys can go to bed if you want,” Sasha offers. “We’ve got Monday off too, so we can finish the rest of the movies tomorrow night.”

“Ok,” you say sleepliy, allowing Eren to help you up as you shuffle into the bedroom.

Eren closes the door behind you and you flop down onto the bed, facedown. You don’t even bother to take off your clothes, you’re so tired.

“Are you gonna sleep like that?” Eren asks, pulling off his t-shirt and sweats, leaving himself in just his black boxer briefs, before walking over to you on the bed.

“Too tired to change,” you whine, rolling away from him.

He laughs, you were so cute. He never got to see you sleepy like this before. It feels so intimate and domestic to finally see this side of you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on his hoodie as you whine. “You’ll be more comfy with less clothes.”

“You’re just trying to fuck me again,” you whine, but you allow him to pull his hoodie off of you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your sweats and pulls them down past your hips and off your feet. He feels the burn of arousal in his stomach after he successfully peels your pants off - he forgot you didn’t have any underwear on underneath.

“I’m… not,” he says, strained. “Unless you want me to.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” you sigh, letting him fix the blankets so you can crawl underneath them. “I’m too tired after today.”

He slides under the covers behind you and pulls you close against his chest. You nuzzle your face into his skin and sigh against it. “Are you drunk?” he asks with a laugh, rubbing soft circles in your back.

“No, just sleepy,” you say, content.

“Can you stay up for a little bit? I wanna talk to you about something.”

You audibly pout but look up at him from where your face is buried in his chest. “It can’t wait until the morning?”

“I don’t want to forget.” He brushes the hair out of your face with his hand and watches as you try to blink away your sleepiness to focus on what he has to say. “I think we need some terms and conditions for this whole, fake dating, thing.”

You chuckle, eyes crinkling. “Ok…? Like what?”

“We have to treat this like a real relationship, so you can’t hook up with any other people, and obviously neither can I.”

“Obviously.”

“We have to hold hands and like, cuddle, and stuff.”

“Easy,” you scoff and it warms his heart.

“We should try to stay together for a decent amount of time,” he says quietly and he hopes you can’t hear the way his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. “If we break up too soon, Jean might not have fully fallen for you, y’know. So like, six months, I think - at least.”

“Hmm, that’s a good point,” you say with a nod. “I thought you said you didn’t watch the movie, and suddenly now you’re an expert?”

“I’m no expert,” he laughs. “I’m just trying to… maximize our chances for success.”

“Ok,” you hum, burying your face back into his chest. “Any other rules?”

“If you fall in love with me, you have to tell me right away,” he says, voice tight.

You laugh into his chest and wrap your arms around him tighter. “You think I’m going to fall in love with you, Eren Jaeger?”

No, he didn’t think - he hoped.

“You never know,” he hums.

“Ok - deal.” He wonders if you’re going to flip the rule back on him too, but instead you sigh against him. “Can I go to sleep now?”

“Go for it, babe.”

“Goodnight, Eren,” you murmur before drifting off to sleep again.

---

Eren wakes up before you in the morning to find you still curled up against his chest. He wants to stay here with you forever, but the ache in his bladder has him slinking out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom.

Sighing with relief from his now-empty bladder, he wanders into the kitchen for a glass of water but finds Jean already there, grabbing ingredients from the fridge for breakfast.

Eren decides to be civil, “Morning, Jean.”

Jean isn’t, “Fuck you, Jaeger.”

Eren grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water, leaning against the counter to watch Jean prep breakfast as he drinks. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing, just drinking water.” He taps on the glass with his finger as Jean scowls at him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I literally just told you.”

“No -- I mean with her.”

Eren smirks as Jean starts cracking eggs into a bowl. He’s sure Jean’s imagining that each one of those eggs is Eren’s face from the way he’s practically smashing them against the counter.

“We’re dating - you know, girlfriend and boyfriend -- are you familiar with the term?”

“Fuck off, Jaeger.”

“You should be nice to me,” Eren says before taking a sip from his water. “Your room is right next door to hers, isn't it? If you're nice to me, maybe I won't keep you up all night."

Jean cringes at his implication. “You’re disgusting. I know you’re just using her for sex.”

“I’m not, actually,” Eren says sharply. “You’d realize that if you ever took your head out of your ass.”

Jean doesn’t bother to respond as he cuts open a packet of bacon. He lays all the strips out on a baking sheet before turning on the oven to pre-heat, all under Eren’s gaze.

“Are you just going to fucking stand there and watch me all morning?”

“That’s a lot of bacon for one person,” Eren responds, eyeing the food as Jean preps it.

“It’s not just for me,” he says with a sigh. “I’m making breakfast for everyone.”

“Me too?”

“Begrudgingly.”

Eren makes a silent face of approval as he watches Jean cut up some potatoes for hashbrowns.

“I make breakfast for everyone on the weekends. Sometimes weekdays too, if I’m not busy,” he explains, cutting into the spuds roughly. “It’s like a tradition here.”

“That’s surprisingly nice of you,” Eren says in disbelief. “You don’t strike me as the type.”

“I want to learn how to get better at cooking - not that I owe you an explanation.”

“Right. Because you were raised with fuckin chefs and butlers, so you’ve never had to cook before,” Eren says, more to himself than to Jean.

The oven makes a noise to signify that it’s reached the selected temperature and Jean slides the baking tray into the oven before setting a timer on his phone. He oils a pan with some butter and tosses the chopped chunks of potato into the pan to fry them.

“Smells good,” Eren says, putting his now-empty glass into the sink. “Can’t wait to try some.”

“Thanks,” Jean spits, but the praise makes him blush, even if it’s from Eren fucking Jaeger.

“I thought you left.”

The attention of the two boys turns to you as you stumble into the kitchen, rubbing at your eyes with the sleeve of Eren’s sweater. Your legs are bare underneath it and Eren wonders if you remembered to put underwear on.

“Nah, babe, I’m still here,” Eren says with a smile. “Just talking with your favourite roomie.”

You approach Eren and wrap your arms around his waist, leaning into his chest as you look over at Jean while he works on the food. “Jean does this every morning,” you explain.

“Yeah, we were just talking about that,” Eren wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you closer against him. He slides his leg between your thighs to gently press his thigh against your clothed cunt - good, you remembered.

You squrim in his arms and push his thigh away from you while Jean works on frying the potatoes. 

“Are you gonna make some coffees for everyone?” Jean asks, his back facing both of you.

“In a minute,” you say, holding Eren tighter. 

Even though this is all a plan to make Jean jealous, you can’t ignore how happy you feel in Eren’s arms like this. Enveloped in the warmth of his hoodie and the smell of his vanilla cologne, it almost feels like you really are dating. 

The two of you stay like that until the timer on Jean’s phone goes off for the bacon. As Jean pulls the bacon out from the oven, you pull away from Eren to make some coffees with your espresso machine.

“I thought I heard the bacon alarm!” Connie says, coming around the corner and into the kitchen. He clasps his hands and rubs them together like a fly as he looks around Jean’s body at the sizzling baking pan in his hands.

“Connie, back off, I’m going to burn you.” Jean says, pushing Connie back with one arm while he sets the hot pan on the unused half of the stove. “Wait until it cools off a bit.”

Connie pouts but obediently goes to sit on the dining room table while he waits for the food. He looks around at the table, confusion etched on his face.

“What’s up?” Eren asks with a nod, noticing Connie’s expression.

“We need another chair for you,” he says, pointing at the four chairs surrounding the table. “We only have enough for us.”

You turn around to look at the table and realize that Connie is right, there’s only four chairs. You never needed any more than that when it was just you and the roommates. “Can you get your gamer chair maybe, just for today?”

Connie nods, getting up to go to his room to retrieve an extra chair while you turn back to work on the coffee.

Eren comes up behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against his body as he ducks his face into your neck. “You don’t wanna sit on my lap?” he hums, his lips pressing softly into your skin.

“Maybe later,” you say, face blushing as you try to tame the shaking of your hands as you work your espresso machine. “Why don’t you go get some clothes on so you’re not sitting at the table in your underwear?”

Eren laughs and kisses you once on the shoulder, again on your neck, and then softly on your cheek. “Good idea.”

When Eren steps away from you, you release a shaky breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. Being around Eren always made you lightheaded. It was because of the way he touched you, the way he kissed you, and the way he made you feel.

You made fun of all of those other girls from school for falling over themselves to be with him, but here you were doing the exact same thing. How could you not? Eren was enticing. He definitely wasn’t the worst person to be fake dating.

[munson-blurbs]

Absolutely love that gif of him on ur bsf to lovers post. 😩

Anyways, afab reader wears a short skirt and a lace thong that barely covers her privates <3 she teases eddie during a dnd campaign and bends over etc until he can’t take it anymore and he pulls her onto of him and moves her hips up and down as he fucks into her 😖 soft dom eddie and hellaaa praise

I'm combining this with a request for an Eddie breeding kink...I hope that's okay!

(”Breeding kink, you finding out by him looking at baby commercials and being nice to Dustin and the other kids thinking about him having one of his own”) @hahahafucku

Warnings: this is literally all smut and I think there’s a plot in there somewhere (18+ minors begone), breeding kink, public teasing, semi-public sex I guess, language, brief mention of reader’s body size

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I usually don’t write fics this smutty so pleeeeeeease let me know what you think! Too much? Not enough? Just right?

--

"Hey, babe?" You're glancing at the shopping list as you make your way through the store. Eddie was just by your side; you're supposed to be helping him pick up snacks for his campaign tomorrow, but your boyfriend has wandered off yet again.

"Eds, where are you?" you call out softly, attracting the attention of some irritated customers.

"Over here," you hear from four aisles down. You huff and make your way to him.

"Babe, do you really need four different types of chips?" you ask, but he's drawn into the products on the shelves. You look at what he's staring at: rows of diapers and jars of baby food.

"Are you pregnant or something?" you joke, poking his side. He jumps as you break him from his trance. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," he shuffles towards the cart and plops down the cans of soda he'd picked up. You're not convinced but place the thought on the back burner for now.

Why would Eddie be interested in baby products?

~

You wait until you're back in his beat-up van, bags of junk food loaded into the back.

"So, you wanna tell me what that was all about?" you ask, more curious than accusing.

"What?"

"Come on, Eddie. Why did I catch you looking at baby stuff? Not just glancing, but really looking?" You'd been together for awhile, and you knew he wanted kids one day, but there was no way that he wanted them now...was there?

"I dunno," he replies sheepishly, long curls falling over his face. "'S stupid."

The worst-case scenario flashes into your mind. "Oh my god, did you cheat on me and get her pregnant?"

Eddie laughs louder than he intends to; your accusation is just too ridiculous. "Absolutely not! You know I only have eyes for you, sweetheart." He gives you his best puppy dog look and kisses you hard.

"Then why won't you tell me what's going on?"

He sighs and throws back his head in defeat. "Fine, but just...don't judge me, okay?" You continue when you nod, palms moist with sweat. "Okay, so, I've been thinkin'," he starts, looking down at the car floor nervously. The engine is running though you're still parked, and he kills it. "Thinkin' about how goddamn gorgeous you would look if you were havin' my baby."

Huh. Well, that wasn't what you'd expected him to say. "You mean in, like, ten years?" But you know better.

Eddie shakes his head. "Nah, sweetheart. Right fuckin' now."

"Oh," you manage, "but you're still in high school," you point out, though you know exactly what his reply will be, and you're right.

"Only for another month. And babies take a lot longer than that to cook," he grins while he says it, and you realize that he's no longer looking at the car floor, but at your stomach. He's imagining you pregnant with his baby.

"Wow," you breathe out. "Can I-can I think about it?"

His eyebrows shoot up; clearly, he was not expecting you to even consider this proposal.

"Y-yeah, baby. Of course." He presses a kiss to your cheek, though you can tell by the bulge in his pants that he wants to do a lot more. He starts the van up again and heads for home, leaving you with a lot to think about.

~

You thought about the prospect of having Eddie's baby all night. In the shower, you ran your fingertips over the flatness of your stomach, thinking about a bump there. A bump that held Eddie Munson's child.

Yes, you were young, but you'd been together for two years, and you were also adults. Adults with jobs--you'd been working full-time at the bank since you'd graduated last year. And Eddie will be working full-time with Wayne at the plant soon. You'd already discussed moving in together; you promised your parents that you and Eddie would graduate before doing so, and that day would be here in just about four weeks. Maybe you could do this.

The easiest way to tell him would be to call him, but you had a better idea. You'd see the feral look in his eyes when he mentioned his desires--why not allow him to...give in to those carnal instincts?

~

The plan was perfect. You'd ditch work claiming a stomach flu (no one wants someone vomiting all over the workplace) and sneak back into Hawkins High. You'd been gone less than a year and still knew the layout like the back of your hand. Most importantly, you knew the abandoned janitor's closet on the second floor, the one conveniently near the drama/Hellfire room where you could sneak off and make a quick wardrobe change.

There’s no mirror in there, of course, so you just hope that your red lipstick isn’t smudged or on your teeth. You smooth down your black tank top, adjusting your breasts so that your cleavage is perfectly framed by the neckline. The icing on the cake is the tiny miniskirt that falls at the top of your thighs, exposing the long legs that stand in your heels.

School’s out, and Eddie’s told you that Hellfire is starting a bit late today so that the boys can watch Lucas Sinclair play in a basketball game. Eddie never got the hype of school-sanctioned sports, but it was important to his little sheep, so he’d compromised. Worked out for them, and it also happened to work out perfectly for you.

You knew Eddie would already be in the Hellfire room, meticulously setting up his campaign. You could picture him pacing anxiously around the table, ensuring everything looked just right. With a peek into the hall that showed the coast was clear, you scurried into the room where Eddie was chewing on his thumbnail, looking over his Dungeon.

“Hey there,” you say softly, and his head snaps up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/N, what are you--oh, holy shit.” His tone turns from confusion to pure lust as he eyes you, taking in you and your outfit hungrily. He runs his tongue over his lips involuntarily as he makes his way to you.

“Do you like it?” you feign shyness as he grabs your hips and pulls you as close as he can. You can feel him straining against his zipper already.

All he can mutter is “Oh my god,” as he buries his face in your neck, kissing it sloppily and sucking bruises into your skin.

“Figured we could try for that baby you mentioned, but I didn’t wanna wait for you to get home,” you shrug as he moves his hands under your short skirt, moaning audibly as he presses his palms against your bare ass, left mostly uncovered by a lace thong. When he hears what you’ve said--really registers it, which takes a moment--he pulls back.

“Are you serious?” He smiles, holding your face in his strong, calloused hands. 

You press your own hands to his chest and whisper into his lips, punctuating your statement with a series of kisses. “Eddie, I want to have your baby. I want to get big...and round...and swollen...growing each month...with your baby.”

He shivers against you and hoists you up, slamming you against the wall; you wrap your legs around him as he pushes your skirt around your waist. He starts to rub a finger against your soaked panties, when you both hear it:

“Can’t believe the other team didn’t show!” Lucas. Oh, no.

“Buncha pussies, forfeiting like that,” Dustin’s voice rings out.

“At least Eddie will be glad we’re starting on time,” Mike chimes in.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “hand me my bag. I can run into the corner and throw on my pants.”

Eddie lets you down but grips your wrist. “Not so fast,” he growls. “I just got you how I want you, and I’m not letting you go.”

“B-but the boys--”

“We’re not fucking in front of them,” he dismisses your concern, “but you’re gonna sit on my lap, dressed like my perfect little slut.” He grabs you by the hem of your skirt and you yelp. “You think I’m gonna let my fantasy slip through my fingers?”

You nod, feeling a heat rising in your lower body. 

“So now, you’ll be a good girl for me. You’re gonna sit on my lap, be my...helper...during the campaign, and then I’m gonna fuck a baby into you once we’re done. Got it?” He tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly into his eyes.

“Yes, sir.” Eddie takes his seat on his throne and you do as he’s instructed, feeling his erection underneath you as he slides a ringed hand up your thigh. 

“Welcome, boys!” Eddie’s voice booms. You feel a blush creep up your neck toward your cheeks. “Got my little helper here today.” He takes the hand farthest from the boys and squeezes your ass and you gasp softly.

Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, Munson? you think. Game on.

~

You spend the rest of the Hellfire meeting doing whatever you can to torture Eddie. You’re constantly “repositioning” yourself, grinding on him and feeling him grow harder with each subtle movement.

“Knock it off, princess,” he whispers, but you’re in the mood to be a brat. You pretend to get a little sleepy and stretch, showing off your breasts in Eddie’s face. You watch his eyes flick to your chest before returning to the game.

While he’s reading the next part of the campaign aloud, you place your palm on his jeans, right over his cock, making him take a sharp breath in.

But your grand finale is when Gareth rolls the D20 and it lands right in front of Eddie’s notes. When it’s Mike’s turn to roll next, you stop him.

“I can get it, Wheeler,” you say, leaning over and giving Eddie a clear up-skirt view. You know he can even see your clothed pussy from the angle you’re giving him. 

Eddie hooks his arm around your waist and pulls you back down, glaring at you.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him innocently. “Am I not helping?”

“Okay, that’s it,” he mutters before turning to the rest of his group. “All right, we’re wrapping up for the night.” His announcement is met with a chorus of grumbles. “Hey, hey, hey, I don’t wanna hear it! We will continue this next week.” 

The boys file out of the room, mumbling about Eddie’s bizarre behavior. Once they leave, Eddie grabs you, positioning you so you’re straddling him in his throne. 

“What the fuck was that?” he pulls your hair to bring your face closer to his. “You tryin’ to make me blow my load in my pants? Sounds to me like you don’t really want me breeding you.”

“N-no, I do. I do,” you whimper. “Want your baby, Eddie. Please.”

“I don’t think I believe you. I need to be convinced,” he sneers.

“Please, Eddie. I need you to breed me. Need you to fill me up with your cum and get me pregnant,” you beg. You allow yourself a small sigh of relief as he eases his grip on your hair, but it’s short-lived, because he tears off your thong with a rip and slides his pointer and middle fingers along your wet folds.

“You’re soaked, princess,” he groans. “I love how wet you get for me. Ruined your panties and now you’re gonna ruin my jeans.” He presses one finger to your aching clit, making small, slow circles, and laughs menacingly as you cry out.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, mocking your earlier question. “Can’t handle being teased?” When you don’t respond, he moves his finger faster, rubbing your clit harder. “How’s this?”

“S-so good,” you manage, grinding back and forth on his finger. You want--no you need--him inside you, but you don’t dare tell him that for fear he’ll deny you that pleasure. “You know exactly where to touch me.”

Eddie beams as he receives the praise, moving his finger from your swollen nub to your pussy. He slides it in and curls it, pumping it in and out, your beautiful moans ringing in his ears. He adds a second finger and lets out a moan of his own as you clench around him.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes preemptively. You’re confused until he removes his fingers and cleans them with his tongue, leaving you hurting for him. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper, palming his cock through his boxers.

“Eddie,” you whine, “I could’ve done that for you.” Touch-starved and desperate for affection, you lift your own shirt over your head. A sheer lace bra leaves little to the imagination.

Eddie sucks on the exposed part of your breasts, leaving hickeys all over them. One hand still on his erection, he uses the other to unhook your bra. As soon as it clatters to the ground, he’s groping your tits, biting your nipples as pleasure and pain intertwine and you scream loudly.

Not wanting to take his hands off of your breasts, he shuts you up with a kiss. “Can’t...fuckin’...wait...any longer,” he pants, and you take his rock hard length into your hand. You start to move to get on your knees, but he stops you.

“Need to be inside this tight little pussy,” he orders, rubbing his cock along your wetness until he’s covered in your slick, and he presses himself into you. “You were made for me, you fuckin’ know that?” 

“I’m all yours,” you agree easily, matching his rhythm as you ride him. “My body belongs to you, Eddie. You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie’s groaning. He grabs onto your hips and moves you exactly how he needs you. “Your body, your mouth, your everything is fuckin’ perfect.” His thrusts get faster and your orgasm builds inside you as you feel him get deeper, hitting that spot over and over again.

“Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you plead, asking for permission rather than telling him. “Please let me cum all over you while you fill me up.”

“I’m cumming, too.” He grips your sides even harder, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, and you suspect there will be bruises there tomorrow. He slams you up and down over his cock and you finish with tears streaming down your face. You feel him shoot thick, hot ropes into you. With the little strength he has left, he places you onto the table, still inside of you.

“Lay back,” he orders. “Don’t want any of this coming out. You gonna get knocked up today, aren’t you, princess?”

“Y-yes, Eddie,” you whisper. You watch as he pulls out of you. He frowns when he sees cum running down your leg. With a quick swipe of his hand, he pushes it back into you.

“You took all of me, didn’t you? Such a good girl,” he remarks. You’re too fucked out to muster up a response, and he notices. “Poor baby. I really fucked you good, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” 

Eddie puts himself away and sits back in his throne, admiring his work. “Love seeing you like this.”

“It’s all you, Eds,” you finally say. “All because of you, and all for you.”

“My beautiful little vixen,” he throws his head back with a low growl. “Tell you what. You stay just like that, make sure it takes. Then we’ll go back to my place and relax, okay?”

“And go for round two?” you ask mischievously. “Make sure I get pregnant tonight?”

Eddie laughs. “I wish, but Wayne will be home.”

You beckon him to the table and pull him in for a long, deep kiss. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me quiet, then.”

--

Taglist: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @benztripp @ali-r3n @munsonology

[tariah23]

I wanna know why you're still reading JJK not because it's bad but bc I love seeing you rant about things you love

NATEjajajaaj tbh, I complain about everything I like and everything that I’ve said thus far about JJK, I still feel strongly about because I KNOW that it used to be written way better before but despite all of that, I can honestly say that I still enjoy it a ton. It’s so fun!? I can’t look away?!? I haven’t felt this way about a manga, especially a shounen of all things, in… I really don’t know (I kind of don’t like to count csm since it’s still a seinen to me…). Jjk is joining the ranks of my love for Naruto 🙈……. As absurd as that might sound, it makes me feel nostalgic despite not being that old!!!

It definitely deserves all of its praise as well and I’m not just saying this just because I’m a fan. If it didn’t, I’d definitely say otherwise. I’m glad that everyone is fucking with it! It just made the  Guinness world book of records the other day, I kind of want to throw up 😭. Knowing how Gege’s been writing the story lately, he probably doesn’t give a shit. He just wants to finish JJK as soon as possible so that he could get back to doing fuck all. Well… good for him. But, I’m genuinely glad that I got into it! The fans are annoying but that’s to be expected from a mainstream shounen unfortunately. It’s so nice ignoring them though. That’s the only way you’ll be able to enjoy something as big of a series like this tbh.

All of the characters that I’ve liked or loved never got to the point where they were written horribly like, I can say that Gege has remained pretty consistent in the characterization department, which is a plus, since whenever I get into stuff, I tend to pay a lot of attention to things like this especially. Yuuji is still Yuuji, Sukuna is still that petty old bitch, Gojo remained as silly and courageous till the very end (even tho I still wished that Gege could’ve focused more on Gojo’s trauma… it would’ve been nice to see him overcome the burden of being the apex of the jujutsu society… he was so much more than an idol and he still died believing that that was all that he was. Someone who was so far removed from humanity that he continued to tell himself that this would be all that he ever was and that even if his friends and peers truly did love and respected him, they’ll never learn to “understand,” him because he’s so much more powerful than they were. Their lives would never be the same. And he could never make any of them truly happy in the end. I really HATED THAT Gege let that man go to that DAMN airport still holding onto to his loneliness like this 😭😭😭… and then when you think back to that one scene in the story where various other characters were asked about their feelings towards Gojo, and all most of them had to say was that “he’s the strongest,” I just… :(… Obviously, he’s well respected despite his personality but 😭… Gege, you will burn for this-

I do enjoy how ridiculous JJK can get as well. People can talk badly about it all they want but you can’t say that it’s predictable lmfao. This looney toons ass plot 😭!!! I’m kind of here for the shenanigans. It’s been pretty repetitive as of lately though. Mainly the whole Sukuna vs everyone thing that’s been going on starting from Kashimo (his dumbass) right after Gojo’s death… but it’s okay. Outside of my favs being slaughtered left and right 👎🏾☠️. You can tell that Gege is just rushing through the story now though :/. I kind of can’t wait for it to end but I’m still enjoying the ride until the wheels fall off! I want Yuuji and the rest of the gang to be able to enjoy the rest of their lives, man… Gege wrote JJK with a chip on his shoulder 😭.

[thelordofgifs]

please tell me more about maedhros in part 30 of tfs beloved 🌟🌟🌟

(director’s cut ask game)

Oooh excellent question ty!!! Part 30 of the fairest stars is probably one of my favourites and I have SO many ramblings I can do about it. Under the cut for spoilers.

There was a lot riding on part 30: I wanted it to be very sad, and also very suspenseful, and to function as a character study of Maedhros while also not revealing to the reader what he was actually planning to do. Which was tricky! I think I managed to pull it off, but it was definitely technically challenging to write (also emotionally challenging, it made me so sad ok).

Not long after I realised that the third arc would end with Maedhros going to Sauron, I also realised that it would be best not to reveal too much of his thought processes: so, although he's the most central character of the arc, he actually gets very little point of view in it. He narrates a couple of lines in parts 23 and 24, but the last proper extended pov he gets is in part 22 – which worked quite well, because as the arc progressed I wanted to hint at his gradual mental deterioration without alarming the reader too much. In part 30, on the other hand, you are meant to be extremely alarmed. Interestingly, Maedhros himself, who is very wedded to the idea of himself as Logical and Sensible and Always Right, does not really have any idea of how bad a state he is in during part 30.

There's stuff like this incident, for example:

“No – no – you’re wrong,” Maedhros says, a little wildly. “Finno is good, he wouldn't—”

Turgon watches him, not unsympathetically, as he struggles for words, and then fetches him some water and waits until he has regained his composure.

He did pretty much have a panic attack in front of Turgon there, but without acknowledging it to himself.

Or this one:

Still, cowardly, he finds himself dawdling; after leaving Fingon’s chambers he wanders through the corridors for some hours.

(It is hard to keep track of time these days; he might blink and realise that it has grown dark outside without his noticing, or else that he has no memory of coming into this part of the fortress.)

Maedhros. Baby. You are having a severe mental health crisis.

It’s not that he’s unaware of this! Which comes across mostly clearly in what is imo the single saddest line of part 30 and possibly of the entire fic:

If Maedhros said, No, it is all dark inside my head, and I cannot see a way out— If he said, I know what I must do, but Valar curse me, I am afraid, I am so afraid— Or even if he said, Káno, help me, help me, help me—

It’s just. he’s so close. If he had only asked for help – you only ever have to ask!! – all the tragedy could have been averted; and Maedhros knows that! He knows that Maglor would do anything to make him feel better, but he can’t bear to keep relying on his brother any more, and so does not do the sensible thing and reach for help.

(A lot of Maedhros’ thought processes in part 30 were written to feel like those of a suicidal person. That was deliberate for many reasons: of course Maedhros is the only named Elf who canonically does commit suicide, and for me one of his defining traits is a very… unelvish instinct for self-destruction – consider also the fact that he begs Fingon to kill him on Thangorodrim. Then there was the simple plot-and-suspense reason that I did want the reader to maybe get the inkling that the ill-advised decision he is planning to make is to commit suicide: in a way it is, because he isn’t expecting to ever leave Sauron’s captivity, I don’t think. So this is why he states explicitly that he “cannot see a way out”, and why too he is so concerned that Fingon does not blame himself when he finds out what Maedhros has done. When your mental state is this bad, it’s very easy to start thinking in black-and-white.)

Hmm what else. Of course the first two thirds or so of part 30 are really about Maedhros trying to set his affairs in order before he leaves (again… he really does feel like he’s dying, in a way), and in particular to tie up loose threads in the two relationships that most define him, his relationship with Fingon and his relationship with Maglor. So first of all he talks to Lúthien about the Silmaril in Doriath, which he frames to her as wanting to win for Maglor’s sake – which is not strictly true, of course. Maedhros wants the Silmaril because of his Oath. But convincing himself that he needs to fulfil the Oath because Maglor deserves to be free of it is… a rather convenient way of putting it to himself.

Then he talks to Turgon about Fingon, and asks him not to hold a grudge against Fingon on Maedhros’ account.

“On your account,” Turgon repeats. “You do rather think everything is about you, don’t you?”

Here’s another Hard Truth for Maedhros, after Lúthien’s insights about the nature of the Oath: he’s not the main character! He needs to stop thinking that he’s the main character! (I do think the failure of the Union in canon was mainly because Maedhros saw himself as the protagonist of the fight against Morgoth. He’s just so utterly unable to recognise the shape of his own narrative.)

Turgon is right in this conversation, but he’s also pretty harsh on Maedhros. In particular, he attacks the one conviction Maedhros usually takes as gospel, which is his belief that Fingon is a good person:

“Alqualondë,” says Turgon, with an air of dreadful finality. “You know as well as I do that he would not have leapt into the slaughter were it not for you! He followed you into it, and he will follow you to his doom just as blindly. Will you stop him, Maedhros? Or will you drag him down with you into whatever accursed acts of evil your damned Oath compels you to next?”

“No – no – you’re wrong,” Maedhros says, a little wildly. “Finno is good, he wouldn't—”

The thing is! Maedhros loves Fingon very deeply: and he is fundamentally unable to see the people he loves with any degree of objectivity (see also: Maglor). This came up all the way back in part 8, when he is worried that Fingon might launch an invasion of Doriath:

“Finno,” says Maedhros, “you don’t – you won't—”

Fingon kisses him. “It’ll be alright,” he says.

Maedhros trusts him, of course he does. But he is also frightened.

A lot of his general worldview is predicated on Fingon being a good person.

So Turgon's accusation sends Maedhros spiralling. Although he wasn't expecting to succeed in convincing Turgon to forgive Fingon, he also wasn't expecting to have to reevaluate something so fundamental.

He does not know whether he has succeeded in softening Turgon’s opinion of his brother; his thought was to mend the breach between them, smooth out the little anxious line that appears between Fingon’s brows when he sees Turgon from afar – but he should have known it would not work, he who ruins everything he touches.

But could he ruin Fingon? Does the taint in him truly run that deep?

It is not possible. Fingon is all goodness and light and purity, the shining hero, the Eagle-rider, who brought Maedhros back from his living hell and drove Glaurung away from Hithlum and – and slew the Teleri at Alqualondë, and – kissed Maedhros on the field of his victory as though he were truly nothing but the spoils of battle—

his internal monologue is... very fucked up here, to put it lightly. Maedhros has spent a long time talking about himself as "corrupted" and "tainted" – very dark and loaded vocabulary which he does fully buy into. (This is a relic of Angband. I've long thought that one of the most destructive things to do to a person, far worse in some measures than physical torture, is to make them believe that they are evil and irredeemable – and Maedhros, who had very recently become a murderer at the time he was taken captive, must have been such a prime target for psychological manipulation of that sort! Easy to hurt, indeed. And then the events of tfs – most notably the stabbing – have done nothing to disabuse him of that notion.)

While I was writing this part, I was working off a list of Reasons Why Maedhros Makes His Decision – I didn't write it down anywhere, but in order of priority they probably go something like this:

he wants Maglor to hate him

he thinks he deserves to suffer

he doesn't want to be Fingon's trophy and if he is nothing but a trophy and a lovely thing to be admired, then he might as well be Sauron's

he has a plan to get the Silmarils back (it is not spoiling much to say that this plan is very, very stupid. but it's there)

he needs to leave so that he doesn't snap and accidentally kill Maglor

NEW!! he needs to leave so that he doesn't make Fingon evil

he needs to leave because he is hurting Maglor by relying on him so much

he needs to leave because he is politically toxic for Fingon, as the fallout from the kiss has shown

once again!! he is so so so fucked up!! But, back to Turgon: he pretty much sends Maedhros into crisis by pointing out that Fingon is in fact a three-dimensional and morally rather flawed person, a fact which Maedhros prefers to ignore – but in the end, instead of taking the right lessons from his conversation with Turgon, he just concludes that he is the entire problem here and if only Fingon were free of his terrible corrupting influence he would be as good and heroic as Maedhros knows he actually is. You idiot that's not how any of this works!!

He calms down a bit once he has managed to wrangle this realisation into another reason why he should leave, though, and manages to keep a pretty cool and collected mask during his conversation with Fingon.

“Well, he was right about one thing,” Fingon says softly. His eyes are fixed on Maedhros’ face. “I do love you best. I would put you above any of them.”

Maedhros does not flinch.

“Very romantic,” he says, endeavouring to sound wry, “if perhaps not a sentiment you should express in public.”

look at him deflecting!! wouldn't it be nice if he actually said what he was thinking for once. oh well.

There's also this:

Maedhros squeezes his fingers, and meets his eyes as earnestly as he can. “You are not – you are not cruel, Finno,” he says. “You are not – like him. You are not.”

(Sidenote, but – and I've mentioned this in previous director's cuts – Maedhros is usually pretty articulate and well-spoken, the diplomat, the linguist's son; when he starts stumbling over his words, or speaking in sentence fragments, it's a pretty clear tell that he is in a terrible state mentally. In part 30 it's so bad that even his thoughts and internal monologue are full of em-dashes and incoherent half-clauses and clumsy repetition. I put thought into this ok!)

Anyway, this is actually Maedhros just talking to himself, trying to convince himself that Turgon was wrong, that Fingon isn't evil (which isn't what Turgon said but ok Maedhros), and that he is not like Sauron, one impulsive adrenaline-fuelled kiss beside. Unfortunately, Fingon is not really giving him the reassurance he needs, mostly because Maedhros won't tell him what's troubling him:

The last time they kissed, Fingon tasted of blood. The cold metal of his gauntlet left deep marks on Maedhros’ cheek. Now his mouth is sunshine-sweet, and he twines his bare hand in Maedhros’ hair, drawing him closer, inhaling him, possessing him, and Maedhros lets him—

Maedhros lets him.

You will lead him to his ruin, said Turgon.

They break apart at last. Fingon rests his forehead against Maedhros’ and looks at him like he has never seen anything lovelier.

This is part of the weird little tangle Maedhros has got himself into, which goes something like: kissing me knowing I didn't want him to was bad and something Sauron would do = Sauron said I am easy to hurt = being in a relationship with me is going to turn Fingon into Sauron because he can't help but hurt me and I am too weak and corrupted to stop him, which is messed up and victim-blaming and illogical and wrong on SO many levels, but yeah. Anyway, that phrase, "he has never seen anything lovelier", was pretty deliberately chosen, in light of Maedhros' statement in part 29 that he does not want to be merely "a doll, a trophy, a lovely thing to be admired"; and Lúthien, too, signals to him that she understands this hyperspecific fear of his, when she tells him, "It is very hard, I think, to be treated as nothing more than a lovely thing to be admired." So here, with Fingon's adoring gaze on him, Maedhros is worrying once again that loving him is bad for Fingon, and is making him into a worse person. In a very convoluted way, because, again, he isn't thinking clearly at all.

(Starting to realise I could write another entire post on the russingon dynamic in parts 28-30, and I have plenty more of these director's cut asks to get through, so I'll cut it short here lol.)

Anyway, the last and saddest of the conversations Maedhros has is, of course, with Maglor because I am soooo normal and ordinary about these two. Maedhros isn't actually intending to talk to Maglor before leaving:

Maedhros only means to look at him, but then Maglor glances up and notices him standing in the doorway. “Nelyo! I did not think you were sleeping here tonight,” he says. Then he looks at Maedhros more closely. “Another nightmare?”

This is mostly because Maedhros is worried that Maglor, who makes a habit of noticing his every minor tell, will start to suspect that he is planning something; but in the end he can't leave without giving himself a goodbye, even though neither Maglor nor the reader know that it's a goodbye. (The reader probably could tell? Unsure.)

Anyway, this last scene was mostly about fleshing out all the Maglor-related reasons from Maedhros' list above; namely, making it clear that he does know exactly how badly he is about to hurt Maglor, and is going through with his plan not despite that fact but because of it, because he needs Maglor to hate him. I've already written an entire essay about their dynamic in the third arc, so I'll keep it shorter here, but basically: Maedhros has become all too aware of how codependent and unhealthy his relationship with his brother has become, and has hit upon a very, very bad solution to this problem.

I mean.

When Maedhros found Maglor in the cave, his brother was moments from death, so weak he could not lift his head; and his white face lit by the Silmaril was filled with bereft despair, for Curufin had abandoned him.

In his secret heart Maedhros long thought it the cruellest of all Curufin’s deeds. How could anyone willingly hurt Maglor – how could anyone leave him?

Maedhros: my brother has abandonment issues. I think abandoning him will fix this,

Oooh yes also that reminds me! Maedhros spends a lot of time in part 30 thinking about Curufin: and this is really the crux of it, the fact that Curufin's decision to leave in part 20 and Maedhros' decision to leave in part 30 are parallels of each other. In fact the approximate train of thought of mine that led to this plot point, back in May when I first conceived it, was "everyone keeps being mean to Curvo for being so so stupid but you know what. I think Maedhros can be stupider actually."

Anyway, unlike the three other conversations he has in part 30, Maedhros doesn’t go into his conversation with Maglor with any particular goal he would like to achieve. He just… loves him. And, as he tried his best to play the devoted lover with Fingon, he slips now into the role of the responsible elder brother, telling Maglor to go to bed and scolding him for staying up too late. (Not to get on the suicide parallels again, but sudden calmness/more cheerful behaviour is a somewhat common indicator that a suicidal person has made a decision to end their life.) And, also, I think a part of Maedhros wants to leave Maglor with a good memory of him, even though that's contrary to his actual goal, which is to make Maglor hate him. (This is also why he tries to refrain from touching Maglor throughout the conversation, although he isn't ultimately able to.)

The very last bit of the scene:

Even so, the tune is recognisable: a lullaby Maglor wrote for Maedhros by the shores of Lake Mithrim, in the very early days when Maedhros was too terrified of it all turning out to be a dream to even close his eyes.

Maglor sang it again when he saved Maedhros’ life from Carcharoth, moments before the wolf leapt upon him, and again in Himring with Maedhros’ knife sticking out of his abdomen.

Hearing it now, he takes Maedhros’ hand, and listens attentively; but eventually his eyes drift closed, and Maedhros watches as his breathing eases into sleep.

idk something about the parallels here. the fact that Maglor sang this lullaby at the times when Maedhros hurt him (not that he was actively involved in the Carcharoth incident, but he blames himself for that anyway) and that Maedhros sings it to him now, just before hurting Maglor yet again... I just like the image.

I was rather pleased with the way the scene ends on a very gentle note; Maedhros literally gets up to leave seconds after this, but I knew I didn't want to show the actual moment he walks away, and leave his POV still on this very peaceful little tableau.

Then there's a little interlude in which Fingon and Maglor Find Out, and then we return to Maedhros' POV for the fun final scene of the arc. There isn't a lot to say about Maedhros' walk through Dorthonion; mostly what I was trying to do was to trick the reader into thinking he was walking to Menegroth lol. (Which doesn't actually make any sense, since he can't pass through the Girdle. But I wanted to lead you into considering the possibility anyway.)

One thing I do want to highlight:

Hard to feel very thankful about anything, when his feet are drawn inexorably forward, as though he is walking downhill, although the ground is flat here.

He was vaguely worried, in the dimmed and distant way he feels anything right now, that he would not be able to find his target. It is not exactly marked on any maps, after all.

But he should not have been concerned. Some ugly core of him knows the way he is going.

and also

Ancient instinct pushes him to his knees.

I was deliberately using very passive language here: Maedhros' feet are being drawn forward, he is pushed to his knees. (Also, "some ugly core of him"! He's so convinced that he is fundamentally evil and corrupted!) He has basically completely relinquished any idea of his own agency here: this is inevitable, and he was always going to end up here, at Sauron's feet, and there is no other way the story could ever have gone.

He's wrong, of course. He did have a choice, he had so many chances, and he didn't take any of them.

[yellowocaballero]

I just finished your New Wave fic. I’m convinced everything your write is gold. I loved your TMA fics, with the most heartbreaking demon AU imaginable and the hilarity of Fahrenheit 101. I loved your moon knight fics, starting with Steven talking to animals on the reg at work to the system growing closer with a focus on Jake, i- there’s- it’s sooo much packed into it. When I’m on burnout, of art or writing (maybe life in general at times) I revisit your work and am thrown back into a creative headspace.

You are my favorite writer, you cram so much meaning and thought into your work and it shows. The characters are dumbasses and say the most ridiculous shit and turn around the next chapter and say the most thought provoking thing, and I don’t get whiplash from it because these characters just work! They just do, and I… am very much off track!

Anyways I just got into Batman and reading your fic is fueling that flame! I can’t wait to see what you have in store next, and I shall now stalk your blog for writing tips! I hope you have a nice day broski 💙

Thank you!! This is so sweet thank you so much! This ask is so nice!

Trust me, if there's meaning then it's because I get obsessive over these fics and I massively overthink them. I honestly wish I was better at making simpler, more elegant stories. I feel like nothing I do is truly going to be good until I can find that simplicity.

"Dipshit who says stupid stuff and then turns around and spouts ridiculous philosophy" is just how I talk. But I habitually approach my life from a standpoint of finding humor in everything, if only to soften the blow. I was once told that it's really hard to tell when I'm joking, because everything I say is always half-joking and always half-serious. I feel like that's pretty evident from my narration too...

As for writing advice...um, I was just speaking about this with somebody. When you're plotting a story, the first thing I like to figure out is what I'm trying to say. Everything else should be built around that. The joy of writing is that I think we all have something we want to say, or something we want people to know, or that we have an aspect of ourselves and our lives that we want to express. Most of the time, trying to convey those things verbally just results in a frustrating approximation of your true feelings. I find that when I manage a successful story, the depth and scale of what I'm trying to impart is fully understood and felt. It's rewarding. I think if people aren't understood on some level, by somebody, they kind of die.

Thanks for the sweet ask!!

[dandylovesturtles]

For the emoji ask:

⛔️, ❌️ and 🧠 (Donnie)

⛔ tons, but for ROTTMNT the only one I think is the lair games fic I've talked about on here before. tldr: Donnie and Leo's sibling rivalry boils over, they get mad, they fight, they make up, everything is happy again.

I'll stick what I did write of it under the read more after I answer the other questions.

❌ setting aside the obvious dead dove sorta stuff, I'm at a point where I don't really like writing Major Character Death as the main point of the story (as an incidental plot point is a little different). I'm also not really interested in hurt/no comfort, there's gotta be at least SOMETHING there lol.

I'm also not really interested in "everyone has a normal life" type AUs (like coffee shop or high school)

I'm sure there are more I just can't think of right now lol

🧠 (Donnie) I love the headcanon that when Donnie merged with the technodrome he fell a little in love with it. The implications of that are just *chef's kiss*

Donnie feeling so bad because that thing was used to end the world! But he's also never felt so fully and wholly understood. So accepted. So loved.

He feels the scars on his shell and he wishes he was still connected.

Anyway fic stuff (for the first question) under the cut:

“Welcome, one and all, to the Seventh Annual Lair Games! As is tradition, the first place winner of last year’s competition will now give a rousing speech!”

“Boooo!” Leo jeered as Donnie stepped up beside Splinter, his first place medal swinging around his neck. “Boooo!”

“Silence from the peanut gallery!” Donnie demanded, glaring at him, and Leo smirked back. It was what he deserved for being a sore winner - all he’d done for the last week was recount his victory from the last year, to the point that even Mikey was getting annoyed with him.

(When Leo had said as much, Raph just replied that he was a sore winner too. To which, of course, he said pish posh.)

“Ahem,” Donnie continued, folding his hands behind his back. “Gentlemen, as winner of last year’s Lair Games, I want to start this speech by offering some uplifting words. I want this to be a fun day for all of us, and so I hope you play fair, leave it all out on the field, and prepare to eat nitrogen oxides BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL GETTING SMOKED AGAIN!”

“Oh brother,” Leo heard Mikey mutter under his breath, and he chuckled.

“Now as for the prize, I think I have come up with something that will pique your interest-”

“I’m not switching rooms with you,” Leo called.

“-something that is not my room, random audience member. No, I have something better.” He theatrically cleared his throat again. “The three losing brothers will have to do whatever the winning brother says for exactly one week, starting from the moment the competition ends, and the losing brothers can only say nice things about him.”

“Hey, wait, does that mean we can ask you to build anything we want?”

“What-”

Raph gasped, pumping his arm excitedly in his seat. “I can finally get my skate hawks!”

“That’s not-”

“Pizza oven pizza oven pizza oven!” Mikey cheered, throwing his arms up in elation.

“Hey, stop interrupting, this is my speech!” Donnie folded his arms, glaring down at them. “Why are you all assuming I’ll lose, anyway?”

“Uh, no offense, Donnie,” said Raph, “but you always lose.”

“I’m literally standing on the winner’s podium! Right now!” He waved the medal. “Do you not see this!?”

“Eh, last year was a fluke.” Leo waved his hand as though to erase the past. “Great idea with the prize, though; can’t wait until you guys are all calling me “Master Leo”! Ooo, or maybe I should go with “Your Highness”? Oh, or what about, “The Great and Powerful and Handsome Leonardo”?”

“Why don’t you just go ahead and add “humble” to that, too?”

“Great note, Raph. “The Great and Powerful and Handsome and Humble Leonardo”!”

“Oh no! We will be calling you no such thing, because after I win it is I who you will be calling “The Great Genius Donatello”!”

“If I win, you guys can just call me Mikey.”

“Hey guys, a note from your production crew,” April cut in. “Are you going to spend all day on this, because if so I’m gonna break for lunch.”

[kenobisgalaxy]

Don’t You Know (Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader)

fandom: STAR WARS

pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

type: one shot

genre: smut

word count: 2,812

warnings: Straight up smut (with some plot), a little bit of angst (because I can’t help myself), AFAB!Reader (but no pronouns)

summary: Obi-Wan is acting strange lately. The Council doesn’t assign him on your mission with you although you usually are sent out as a team. You decide to confront the Jedi Master.

a/n: I don’t know how this happened and I’m a little bit embarrassed, but I finally managed to get around writing some heated stuff which usually really isn’t in my comfort zone. But I had to try. So this little piece of writing is purely based on the song Don’t You Know by Jaymes Young which is just an amazing hot mess. Naturally, this one shot is as heated as the song is and should hopefully send shivers down your spine. Have fun reading it, but be warned: I couldn’t help but drizzle some angst into it. As always there is quite a bit of set up so that you can settle into the setting. I like to give some basic info so that the reader can imagine the scenario better. AAH, I am so unsure about this and I really really hope it isn’t awful.

masterlist

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a flirt. He didn't do it intentionally, it was just something that was in his nature. His sarcastic and flirty way of conducting conversations was almost a staple of his character and even or rather especially his enemies weren’t left out by his straightforward way of phrasing things, except perhaps the more important Jedi in the temple, obviously including the council and for some kind of reason: you.

You had known Master Obi-Wan for a long time, you had trained together as Padawans and had been on many missions before. Especially, during the early stages of the Clone Wars you two had been an unbeatable team. Naturally, you admired the slightly older Jedi Master immensely as what he was: a capable Jedi, a distinguished light saber wielder and on top of all the best partner you could ask for on missions. Although Obi-Wan usually was quiet moody and cocky, always being able to think of a snarky remark, to you he never ceased to be his most polite self. Sometimes, in all that politeness you wondered whether he even liked you. His behaviour around you actually was quite odd, he was being too nice, always helping you up and trying to please you at every given point. He never even attempted a sarcastic remark towards you. Maybe, this was what had made you fall in love with him at first, but in times of doubt and especially when you were suffering from low self esteem again, you did wonder whether he actually liked you or whether he was just being superficially friendly in order to hide his inner contempt for you. Was he just being nice because he felt like it was his duty whilst actually being quite repulsed by you? You couldn’t be sure of it and the whole affair drove you around the bend. For a while now, you had tried to get rid of your intrusive thoughts and not think about Obi-Wan as more than a friend, but your love for him made you doubt your relationship to him even more. You felt like every step towards him was actually pushing him away from you and you observed that he was really just becoming more distant the more you yourself opened up to him and sought his attention. It wasn’t like your were showing your true feelings to him because you really didn’t, you rather just tried to spend quality time with him, but with each further attempt on your behalf he just closed himself off even more, until he became fully distant and even cold towards you.

It was another particular appointment for a Jedi Council meeting. You had been summoned to receive a new assignment and were now waiting in the ante-room when you were called. As you were entering the Council’s chamber and stepping in the middle of the round you looked around the room. Master Obi-Wan was sitting as always in his cushioned arm chair with his legs folded and arms placed on the armrests. Why did he have to look so bloody perfect all the time with his copper hair and smooth beard? That wasn’t fair. You shot a quick glance at him smiling, but he didn’t look at you. Instead he watched the ground intently as if it was some interesting new species that he had never seen before. Why wasn’t he noticing you? Usually, he always gave you at least a reassuring smile because he knew how you hated standing before all these Masters, but not this time. What had happened? What was wrong? Master Windu’s firm voice suddenly brought you back to reality and you quickly emptied your thoughts not wanting to showcase them to the Council.

“Master y/n, you will be sent on a mission to Malastare in order to check in on the fuel cargoes that have been ordered. Due to rather unfortunate diplomatic errors after the latest incidents on the planet, the Dugs are still quite suspicious of the Galactic Senate’s decisions. Please watch them carefully and ensure their loyalty.” Master Windu instructed you.

“I expect I will not be sent alone?” You asked hoping to be accompanied by your usual partner Obi-Wan.

“Actually, you will this time, we lay great trust in your expertise and besides this mission shouldn’t be of great difficulty.” Master Windu proceeded.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful, Master, but I’m not quite the diplomat myself and I usually get sent out on mission such as this together with Master Kenobi since he is the negotiator of the two of us, why not this time?” You asked trying to keep your voice as steady as possible.

“Because I will be on a mission on my own.” Obi-Wan answered drily.

“Oh okay, well then - I. Yes, so when will I be off planet?” You inquired trying to not sound too baffled.

“Tomorrow set off, you will.” Master Yoda announced.

“Well, thank you, Masters. If that is all, may I leave?”

“Sure, Master y/l/n, your Commander will wait for you with further instructions. May the force be with you.” Master Windu said.

“And with you.” You answered him turning around and leaving the Council’s chamber as quickly as possible.

What in the galaxy was wrong with him. He had been strange all week, but there was no sane rhyme or reason why he behaved so repulsive. He didn’t even look at you all the while you were standing there encircled by the Jedi Masters. Had you done something to annoy him? You couldn’t tell. Perhaps, he had noticed your affection towards him, but that couldn’t be it. You followed the code, you knew that any kind of close relationship was forbidden. Jedi weren’t supposed to have possessions such as a significant other. And it was quite clear to you that Obi-Wan valued the code even more than you. That was the reason why you hid your feelings in the first place. If you couldn’t be in a relationship with the man you loved, you could at least try to be friends with him and have him in your life as just that. But what Obi-Wan was doing was outrageous. There was no possibility that he had found out about your thoughts, so the only reasonable explanation for his behaviour was that he didn’t appreciate your companionship after all. And there they were again: the doubts that haunted you at night. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t make sense. He treated you like he treated nobody else, he was kind and sweat to you and now from one day to another he had apparently changed his mind about all that, about your partnership and about your friendship. Couldn’t he just at least be his cocky self in front of you?

All these thoughts rushed through your head as you were strolling to your quarters. As you were approaching the sliding door it struck you. Kriff. You would never know what was up with him if you didn’t talk to him. Why not just ask him? What was the worst thing he could say? You turned and left the corridor through the way you had come. Obi-Wan’s quarters were just two corridors away from yours. You knew he wouldn’t be there because the Council meeting certainly was still running so you decided to just wait for him as you had done multiple times before. You opened the sliding door and stepped into the familiar looking room. It was the same as yours, quite empty and barren. You said down and got out your holopad to do some research on your new mission whilst waiting for Obi-Wan.

One and two hours must have past when you heard the familiar steps approaching the door. Obi-Wan was busy looking at his own holopad when he entered the room. You quickly got up smoothing your robes with your hands.

“Master Obi-Wan. I’m sorry to intrude your privacy, but I have to speak to you.” You said firmly.

“Master y/n.” He looked quite startled, but quickly seemed to be able to collect himself. “If it is something about your mission, please ask Master Windu or your Commander, I have to prepare my own one.”

“I think neither Master Windu nor my Commander will be able to help me with this. See, it is something quite personal.” You continued.

“Well, ask me another time, I’m busy.” He muttered ushering away from you.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” You urged, now angry. “What is possibly wrong with you?”

“Why? I- I don’t know what you mean. I’m perfectly fine.” He stuttered. You were agitated. What was he thinking of?

“No, you’re not! Has a Kwazel Maw eaten your brain? Why do you treat me like I am nothing but thin air to you? And why in the damned galaxy aren’t we assigned on the same mission as always? Tell me why you are acting so strangely.” You asked him with every word urging the Jedi Master backwards whilst poking your finger in his chest.

“I thought it would be better if we didn’t see each other for a while. I don’t think this is working.” Now it was you the one who was startled by his words. You were slowly processing his words not wanting to believe them.

“What isn’t working, Obi-Wan? We are the best team. We’re always successful and we always have a great time on our missions.”

“That’s exactly the point. We are not supposed to have a great time together. This is war. It is supposed to be nerve wracking and tedious.” He explained turning away from you.

“So this is what you want? To be miserable all the time and drown in the mental casualties of the war?”

“Precisely.” He muttered. You didn’t believe him. That was so unlike the Obi-Wan that you knew who always tried to master the situation he found himself in, no matter how difficult it was. He always came up with something witty to make the war less depressing.

“Obi-Wan.” You urged gripping his wrist firmly and turning him around. “We know both that you don’t mean that. Tell me what it really is.”

“I can’t - I. This is not what I- It will destroy us.”

“Why? What are you saying. You’re not making any sense.”

“I can’t. I- uh, blast. Screw it. Y/n, it is because of you.”

“Because of me? I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” Now you were utterly confused, the Jedi Master in front of you had completely gone nuts, you were sure.

“Nothing, that is my point. It is just your simple existence.”

“My existence?” You shrieked. That certainly wasn’t the answer you had expected, but it was the answer you had feared. “So you do dislike me after all. I assume I should better go.”

“What? No! That wasn’t what I mean. I don’t want you to go. I need more of you in my life. Don’t you realize what you do to me? Don’t you know that I- don’t you know I want you so bad?” His raspy voice rang in your ears. You just now realized how close you were to him still gripping his wrist. His azure eyes watched you intently and you noticed a slight tingle in them. He was so close. “Every night I call for you. Don’t you know that I’m going mad? I’d do anything to love you. And I know I shouldn’t, I know that I can’t love you, it is forbidden, the code-”

“Screw the code! Nobody should be alone.” You whispered closing the gap between you  two and settling your lips on his. You felt him becoming tense, but then quickly he relaxed and leaned into your kiss wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His soft beard was scratching your smooth skin, you loved the feeling of it, it was intoxicating. You were running your hand up into his hair tugging at his lose strands. It felt perfect, like it had always belonged there. You gasped into the kiss opening you mouth slightly and making way for his tongue. “Obi-Wan!” You moaned. “Y/n, I’d do anything to touch you!” he exclaimed letting go of you only to come back peppering kisses down your neck. “I know you were meant for me!” He mumbled against you heated skin. You felt your core already becoming wet at the sound of his words. Was this really happening? Wasn’t it one of your endless dreams? But he was there kissing you. You had never seen him like this. The always so patient and conceived Jedi Master had turned into a ravenous mess, flirty remarks had turned into heated praising and his usually smirking lips were now peppering your skin with pure need working their way to your collarbones. His strong arms were drawing you impossibly closer and one hand grabbed you by your thigh pulling it up. You felt his length stretching his pants and pressing against your sensitive area. “Please, Obi-Wan, I need you now!”

“You don’t how long I’ve waited for this.” He uttered, pushing you back towards his bed, carefully lifting you up and placing you down making sure you weren’t hurt. With one hand he pinned both your arms down over your head while he hovered above you and devoured your sight. “You look beautiful, darling! I would fight in a war for you.”

“You know you’re actually already doing that.” You chuckled.

“Not the point.” He said silencing you with another heated kiss. You arched your back pressing your hips to his. He was already so hard for you. Your were becoming impatient. He was fumbling with your belt finally being able to untie it. Tugging at your robes he managed to free your chest. His hands were coming back to your waist, lips trailing down finding your breast, tongue playing with your nipple tugging at it lightly. “Obi-Wan, please!” You moaned again. He shot up leaving your exposed chest and fumbled with his own robes quickly getting rid of his top and tossing it far away into the dim room. “Oh darling, I know all the ways to appreciate your design.” He muttered darting back to you and trailing further down to your core whilst pushing your pants out of the way. “Oh, don’t make me beg you please.” he said and then kissed you right down there, tongue playing with your clit and two fingers stroking your entrance, then plunging in deep. You saw stars and were moaning in a hot mess. “Yes, Obi-Wan, right there.” He was hitting all the sweet spots you didn’t even know existed. One hand of yours was finding its way to Obi-Wan’s hair gripping it and holding his head right there, the other one was getting hold of the bed sheets tugging at them violently when he let go of you. “Don’t tease me like this, I need to feel you, Obi-Wan, now please!” You begged.

He got back up and freed himself from this pants that had up until this moment held a big bulge in place. His cock stood tall and erect glistening with pre-cum. You wondered how he would feel inside you filling you up, satisfying you, grinding you, but you didn’t have to think about it for too long since he was already back on top of you spoiling you with kisses and placing his length on your entrance. “Do you really want this, y/n?” He asked you. “Yes, Obi-Wan, I need this. I can’t live without you.” One word of you was enough and you could feel him entering and filling you up completely. “You are so tight.” He pressed out melting into you like your bodies were made for each other. He stayed were he was adjusting his length to you, but then he started thrusting into you, first slowly and then with increasing pace. “Harder, please Obi-Wan.” He did as you instructed all the while leaving kisses on your sensitive area on your neck. “Make me cum, darling.” He breathed into your ear, both of you had turned into a hot mess, bodies clinging to each other as if this was the last time they would be together. He reached his hand down and found your clit again stroking circles around it. You could feel your legs getting shaky by the touch of him, the orgasm was slowly building in your stomach rolling like a great wave over the shore. “I can’t do this any longer!” You gasped. “Me neither.” He stuttered moving quicker. The orgasm was making your toes curl and hitting you with such a force that you couldn’t see anything but stars. He came right after you filling you with his sweat sperm and crushing down on you breathing heavily. “I love you so much, y/n.” He mused into your ear, kissing you as he was pulling out and letting himself fall down onto the bed beside you. “I love you too, Obi.” You smiled and wriggled closer to him settling in his arm, your breath starting to become at ease.