#so it's probably trash I WORNED YOU! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuckmyskywalker · 3 months

Text

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 — 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞

18+, smut, milf!reader x sam, mentions of pregnancy, body changes, breastfeeding, reader is divorced, age gap (reader is in 30s, sam is 21), afab!reader/fem!reader. | word count: 1.8k (not proofread!)

I did this for free ;( </3 (/j)

“Thank you for watching him, you are a lifesaver,” You smile, kneeling to pick up your toddler. Lifting him effortlessly, the child rests on your hip and wraps his arms around your neck. You kiss your son’s forehead, watching how he struggles to keep his eyes open. “Are you sleepy, Mikey?”

Your son nods and rests his head on your chest, yawning. Sam smiles, biting his tongue and wishing he could lay his head on your chest like that. “Don’t mention it. You know I can babysit Michael whenever you need.”

It’s true. It’s not like he has something better to do with his life, plus the extra money is something he can’t refuse. Your son isn’t annoying anyway— like his stepsiblings— and he can always play Xbox in the living room with him until he asks for food and Sam microwaves him a hot pocket. Not the best meal for a child but feeding him properly is your job, not his. His job is to make sure he doesn’t die. Babysitting always comes with an extra pay… seeing you. Sam has seen you all his life, and maybe— just maybe he has the biggest crush on you. At first, it was somewhat innocent; seeing you share a glass of wine with his mother, driving around, tending your garden… that’s it until he began paying more attention to you (which gradually became more and more physical the more he grew up).

It was still somewhat healthy, but that was until you had your son. Seeing you pregnant and being the only 19-year-old at the baby shower, made him feel… different. He couldn’t take his eyes off your stomach for a reason, he did notice how your body changed and that’s when everything went downhill. Sam did everything he could to be near you. Helping you with your trash, helping you with your garden, damn, even helping you move stuff when your husband was at work. He didn’t have anything against him, but the lingering thought of a young man who had a crush on his older neighbor who was married was a cliche.

I can treat you better than him.

Being realistic, he couldn’t. Unemployed, thinking about dropping college every week, and with a tiny teeny problem with weed and cigarettes. He always drowned himself in cologne when he knew you were coming over, but that didn’t mask the smell and he could see your nose twitching every time he walked in— pregnant women always know when you smoked— which almost made him quit tobacco… almost.

When he heard the news about your divorce, he was thrilled. Delusional would be the correct word, but thrilled nonetheless. Sam tried to be subtle, and he could listen to your conversations with Robin about the downfall of your marriage if he pressed his ear against his door. Of course your husband didn’t treat you right, of course his dick was just enough to impregnate you and not to make you feel good. That only reinforced his illusions. Seeing you just made his hormones crazy, and he would never forget that one time he walked downstairs for some water— after jacking off to the thought of you— and found you in the living room with his mother talking about the current flaws of the government while you were breastfeeding. He’ll never forget how he got a peek of your breast.

So, naturally, when the excuse to spend time with you came with the label of “babysitter”, Sam took it. No questions asked. He would’ve done it for free but you insisted. He’d never do anything for free— but for you? Just say the word.

“Let me put him to sleep and I’ll be right back.”

He nods and watches you go upstairs, his blue eyes gluing to your ass in that pencil skirt. He needs to go to the company you work at and thank whoever decided tight pencil skirts were a requirement. Sam feels and probably looks awkward as he waits for you, tapping his worn black Converse against the rug. His fingers twitch with the need to smoke, but not inside your house and not in front of you. You hate tobacco. It reminds you of your ex-husband. When you come back, Sam smiles politely, trying to focus on your precious face instead of the open buttons of your shirt. He was tall enough to get a peek of your cleavage if he walked closer, but it would be too obvious.

“You want to stay for dinner?” You ask with a sweet smile. He is a weak man. He can’t resist that charming, beaming smile— and those tits.

He watches you cook, admiring every movement and every sway. If he focuses too much it will be counterproductive, he doesn’t want to get an erection in your kitchen. Sam says nothing when you pour a glass of wine and declines when you offer him one— he’s not a wine guy, but it’s not like you’d have a blue ribbon lying around your fridge. You don’t look like that type of person— insisting on just keeping you company. Listening to you is one of his favorite activities too, especially when you are distracted. He can see you all he wants, but like it was expected, he has to cross his leg to hide his boner. That was faster than usual.

As you wait for the vegetables to boil, you turn around to look at him. A frown etches on your beautiful brows and when you step closer, Sam’s heart jolts. Is he in trouble? Your hand raises and he expects a slap— but you just remove a little piece of plastic off his cheek. He had no clue that it was there.

“You had a little something,” You explain, smiling comfortingly. “Were you guys playing with his legos? I think the new set I got him last week still has those little factory edges that Mikey likes to peel off.” You know your son better than he does, so your deduction is spot on.

“Yeah,” He tries to smile back, but it feels clumsy. It’s not something he does often. “He isn’t like Ryan, he is a pain in the ass—” He stops, he should watch his language when he’s around you. You laugh, which brings him relief. “He is!”

You laugh again, and what a joyful sound that is. Sam chuckles too, just following along. “He’s a child, he’s still discovering his own personality.”

Sam doesn’t have the strength to say otherwise. If you say the sky is purple, then he believes you. Whatever you say, he believes it.

So when you compliment his eyes, he finds himself suddenly shy. He tries to play it off modestly, which is 99% genuine. He just wishes you could compliment something… else. Thoughts begin to spiral down. It’s like a rabbit hole that keeps going and going and keeps him awake during his most lustful nights, with his hand wrapped around his cock and peeking over his window with the pathetic hope to see you. His silence doesn’t go unnoticed, and you bring him back to reality by placing a hand on his cheek.

“You alright?” Your concern makes him nod and swallow. In his fantasies, it is the other way around. He is the one supposed to make you flustered. “You sure? You dozed off.”

“I'm great, don’t worry.”

Or maybe he is dreaming. Because you definitely aren’t leaning closer, tilting your head to get a better look at his flushed cheeks… and you are definitely not smiling and placing your free hand on his thigh. Your fingertips must feel so soft, your nails, manicured and a vivid red color must feel so good touching his thigh but his damn ripped jeans are in the way.

“Are you sure?” It’s a whisper, and he doubts if he heard the salacious tone in it. “You look… upset,” Upset wouldn’t be the right word.

His eyes betray him, darting down to look at your cleavage. He can see the edges of your bra, it’s lace, they are black. It must be a push-up bra because there’s no way your tits look so good this close. It makes him want to slide his cock in between them. You chuckle at his reaction but you don’t seem bothered by it. Not in the slightest.

“Cat got your tongue?”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. It’s embarrassing, really. Why is he acting like a virgin? “No,” He manages to croak out, fighting with his own urges to not look at your chest again.

“Don’t be so shy. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

That does it for him. Launching forward, Sam crashes his lips against yours in a messy kiss. Something came over him, something that he had been bottling up for years. You giggle in response but much to his pleasure you reciprocate. Your lips are as lovely and velvety as he imagined, your tongue tastes like wine and maybe he doesn’t hate it anymore. Lifting the hand that still holds your almost empty glass, you use the other one to cradle his head. It is as if the little restraint he had left snapped. His hand cups your breast, squeezing it perhaps a little too hard. Fighting with your buttons, he breaks the kiss to look at your chest.

“Can I?” He mumbles, taking a deep breath.

“Go on, darling.”

He almost rips off your bra, yanking it down and groaning under his breath when he sees your tits bounce softly. Wasting no time he attaches his lip to your left nipple, sucking it eagerly and swirling his tongue around. The labret piercing feels cold against your skin but his mouth is hot and enthusiastic. For him is like a relief, for you is an adorable display of desperation. Brushing his hair, you moan in delight at the way he is playing with your chest, nibbling your hardened bud and taking care of the unattended one with his hand. He rolls your nipple underneath his fingertips, even flicking it gently.

“Good boy,” Those words make his cock twitch. There’s definitely a wet spot on his boxers now. He could even come in his underwear just by sucking your perfect tits.

Sam moans when you tug his dark hair, urging him to switch sides, practically guiding him. He could argue he doesn’t need guidance, but right now? If you want him on his knees, he’s ready to kneel and adore you.

“Why don’t we take this upstairs?” You offer him and he nods, still keeping his mouth around your breast, sucking harder. He bites this time, which grants him the most delicious moan. Your chest arches, almost smothering him in your flesh. He could die happily. “I wanna see what else that tongue can do.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x reader smut #sam monroe x you #sam monroe smut #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x fem!reader #sam monroe x milf!reader #life changing

379 notes · View notes

navyhyuck · 9 months

Text

sweet thing — 1k words, choi yeonjun

warnings: explicit marijuana usage, shotgunning (..again), some kissing, frat president! boyfriend! stoner!yeonjun, a true and very accurate portrayal of what frat boys really want (a girlfriend lol), probably unrealistic infatuation and slightly possessive/jealous behavior, college party culture, frat boys!txt

a/n: if anyone was wondering, yes, i would be so down to have a stoner bf. not that i’m encouraging smoking of any sort, including weed, so don’t do drugs <3 and yes, i have a teeny tiny little fantasy about how it’d be like to date a frat boy, don’t ask. also… never underestimate the power of yawnzzn, he knows exactly what he’s doing. moral of the story: find yourself a sweet, real nice person that is obsessed with you!! don’t settle for less babes :]

you know what they say: good, sweet boyfriends always get their girl high before they’ve even taken a hit.

yeonjun is no different, a selfless soul, truly, the kind of addict that keeps pre-rolled joints stored in all sorts of places, always making sure you’re satisfied before he’s even begun. you don’t need much either, considering he’s the more experienced one, perching you on his lap and watching your lips wrap around his joint, smiling when he hears a light hum leave your chest. ah, yes, he treats his girl so well.

even when he’s the president of his frat, constantly hurdled with duties here and there: rush week, pledging, community service, partying—he’ll always make time in his busy schedule to see you. even if it means sitting on the bed of his trashed bedroom, fastening his arms around your waist, only getting high from the smoke you give him. really, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

his favorite part is when you surprise him at his parties, not always your favorite setting, dressed up so perfectly to him (baggy jeans and a t-shirt, a real turn on), sending your boyfriend the most stunning smile when you see him. his brothers scoff at the sight of you, namely the insufferable external vice president beomgyu (who still hasn’t satiated his deep desire to find a girlfriend), strutting away with such a sway that it makes you giggle.

“hi sweetheart,” yeonjun’s dripping honey already, pulling you to sit on his lap, pressing his fingertips carefully against your arm. he’s far gone, you realize, from the way he’s absolutely dazed, licking his lips slowly from the dryness, trailing his eyes on yours lazily. “i’m so glad you came.”

“mhm, i know,” you’re running a hand through his hair, the dusted pink color slowly growing to your liking. he leans into your touch, closing his hand around your wrist and sniffing. he’s exhaling loudly, eyes closed and head rocking back, one would think he’s getting off to the smell of you, as if you’d worn that mythical pheromone perfume he gifted you on your birthday. “you fucking pervert…”

“you smell good,” is all he mutters, letting you massage his scalp, chuckling when you curse at him again. a few seconds pass in the quiet bliss before he’s coming back to his senses, sitting up so fast you nearly topple off of him. “fuck, y/n, you’re sober.” it makes him frown slightly; of course, he can’t let you stay like that.

there’s nothing more attractive to him than the way you look when you’re taking hits—a little goes a long way—leaning back against him, eyelashes fluttering as the smoke bellows around you. he’s so pliant, patient with you as he doesn’t even let you hold the joint, exhaling smoke into your mouth every so often to see your crazed smile. the way your lips ghost past his, teasing in an attempt to be coy, oh, it makes him a mad man.

and it comes to a particular point in the night when you’re all giggly once again, laughing sweetly at the incredibly shitty jokes internal vice president soobin is making, making small talk with treasurer taehyun, even thanking (god forbid) secretary kai when he hands you a water bottle, and yeonjun’s locked a permanent arm around your waist. shit–his eyes are darting around, an incredulous look on his face–do all his brothers want to fuck his girl?

“don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter as your boyfriend whispers liquid jealousy, nodding your head as kai rambles on about how his president had him cleaning toilets for days. the one thing you ever hear from yeonjun’s brothers are complaints, of course, on how he runs this excuse of a fraternity. he’s now giving death glares to any man that comes within a ten foot radius of you, snapping at them to leave you alone, pressing you closer to him with every passing moment.

oh, of course, now he’s gotten possessive.

“my girl,” he’s sighing, lighting yet another joint to place against your lips, watching you relish in the feeling. his heart swells, nearly bursts from the way you laugh breathlessly, kissing at the very corner of his lips, pulling away when he chases after you. white smoke blurs his vision, but he’s still staring. “c’mere princess, share with me.”

you do, parting your boyfriend’s lips with your hand, looking directly into his eyes–pupils blown to the max, shaking–and exhaling. he can’t help but press his mouth against yours, trapping the smoke, grasping at the fabric of your shirt, searching for a nothingness to bring you impossibly closer. you’re caught off-guard, however, gripping his shoulders to keep him in place, kissing him back hesitantly. still in a public setting, you know, you can feel his brothers’ eyes starting to prickle at your back.

you’re so lucky he’s the president, you’re thinking with your eyes screwed shut, tongue pressing against yeonjun’s, waiting patiently for the high to hit. when it does, you can tell, the way his lips messily move against yours, kissing so loudly you know it’s indecent; after all, you hate pda when you’re sober, yet your brain’s fuzzy now, leaving you with quiet giggles bubbling in your chest. it’s so funny to you, suddenly, even when you’re curled up on your boyfriend’s lap, lazily inhaling as he presses the joint to your lips once again, grinning as you let him have a taste too.

and in all of that, when his lips leave a ghost trail on your neck, as your head floats far above the clouds, there’s nothing better he can think of. you’re the best thing he’s ever had, no denying that. even the faint crash of an empty vodka bottle doesn’t catch his attention, nor the yelling voice of the external vice president, the complaints and whines and one-sided argument, it’s all his imagination at this rate.

“–and fuck you, yeonjun, stop fucking your girl on our goddamn couch!”

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #txt x y/n #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun suggestive #yeonjun scenarios #txt fluff #txt suggestive #txt scenarios #girl if anyone ever quotes me on this...i'm done for #also i'm fucking lying no one says that.

436 notes · View notes

sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Note

Can you do weathervane employee!reader when Xavier is there on outreach day?

I’m almost out of Xavier requests!! Keep them coming and fill this form if you want to be on my taglists. Would anyone be interested in Xavier x Reader x Ajax? Should I start writing for Ajax too? Let me know <3

keep sending requests for Xavier

—

Outreach Day was the Jericho citizens' least favorite day. It wasn’t a secret that Nevermore Academy wasn’t very loved by the normies — as the outcasts would call them —, but Nevermore insisted on having their students volunteering in town every year.

You were busy cleaning the coffee beans you had spilled five minutes ago when the café’s bell jingled, announcing a customer. ‘’Welcome to Weathervane. Please hold in your order or else I’m gonna get fired for making another mess.’’

Your back was turned so you didn’t see the Nevermore student, mistaking him for a customer.

‘’Eh, I’m not here for coffee,’’ a boy’s voice said. ‘’I’m here for Outreach Day. I’ve been assigned to volunteer here.’’

Shit. You had completely forgotten about Outreach Day. Your co-worker had grumbled about it while helping you with the closing, but it had slipped out of your mind during the night.

You quickly wiped the rest of the coffee grounds and tossed them in the trash. Where was Tyler? He’s the assistant manager. Shouldn’t he be the one taking care of the Nevermore student?

When you finally turned, you were pleasantly surprised to see a boy with shoulder length hair and the prettiest green eyes.

‘’Hi. Welcome to Weathervane.’’ You flashed him a smile, completely forgetting you had already greeted him with those exact words when he walked in. Why must you do embarrassing things?

‘’Hi,’’ he greeted back, returning your smile. ‘’Do you need help with those spilled coffee grounds?’’

You shook your head. ‘’I’m good. It’s all cleaned up.’’

‘’Then you’ll get to keep your job,’’ he inferred with a small smile on his face. ‘’I’m Xavier, by the way.’’

Your smile twitched at the corner. Not only was he handsome, but also effortlessly charming. How were you going to get through your day?

‘’Y/N,’’ you said in return. ‘’I’m gonna go fetch you a shirt and apron in the backroom and then I’ll teach you the basics of coffee making. I’ll be right back.’’

On your way, you crossed paths with Tyler who was coming out of the backroom with a box of to-go cups and lids to restock behind the counter. His eyes overlooked over your shoulder, recognizing the familiar face in the café and making a displeased face.

‘’Ugh, great. Out of all the Nevermore students, it’s him we’re stuck with.’’

‘’You know him?’’

His reaction gave you the impression that he already had personal issues with the Nevermore student. Perhaps a past fight over a girl. All you knew was that it was more than just school rivalry.

Tyler nodded, but didn’t give out any details. ‘’Make him wear a hairnet, it's unhygienic. We don't want a hair in the coffees we serve.’’

You narrowed your eyes at him. Your hair was longer than Xavier’s and Tyler didn’t have an issue with it. ‘’Your attempt at ridiculing him in your environment is pitiful. Whatever beef there is between you and him, keep it outside of work.’’

‘’There’s nothing between us.’’

You huffed, not believing him. ‘’If you say so.’’

Behind you, the bell jingled again and Tyler used it as an excuse to end your conversation. ‘’There’s customers. I gotta go.’’

‘’You’re just jealous he’s gonna get more tips than you at the end of the day,’’ you said as Tyler walked away.

The brown shirt somehow looked great on Xavier. It matched his hair perfectly. His apron was tied wrong, but it didn’t matter. He’s probably never worn one before.

You both stood at the coffee bar where the espresso machine was. Beside the machine, syrups lined up and white mugs with the café's name on it were lined up, right at hand's reach.

‘’Okay, Xavier. Tell me everything that you know about coffee.’’

As cute as he was, you really hoped Xavier had some kind of knowledge about coffee-making.

Xavier hesitated. He didn’t want to come off as an ignorant idiot, but coffee was not his thing. ‘’People pay a ridiculously high price for something they can make at home?’’

You held in a laugh. He wasn't wrong. Some coffee drinks on the Weathervane menu were over eight dollars. That’s crazy. Who in their sane mind pays that much for coffee?

‘’Can you tell an americano from a macchiato?’’

‘’Do I have to use the espresso machine for those?’’

‘’I'll take that for a no.’’ You grabbed the filter from the machine and the coffee grounds, careful to not spill them this time. ‘’It's not rocket science. Once you know how to make a shot of espresso, you can basically make any drink,’’ you explained. ‘’Take this filter and fill it with grounds. Use the tamper to pack them tight.’’

Xavier took the items from you and did as he was instructed, filling the filter and pressing them down with the tamper. Once it was filled to the brim, he glanced up at you. ‘’What now?’’

‘’You steam the milk.’’

Xavier was a fast learner. Twenty minutes later, he was on his own, making lattes and cappuccinos as if he had been working there for months. His effortless charm worked in his favor with the customers. In two hours, he had made more tips than Tyler usually did in a full day. A girl even gave him her number, but he crumpled the paper and chucked it in the trash. Perhaps he already had a girlfriend?

Soon enough, it was close to 4pm and Outreach Day was almost over. You felt sad to have to say goodbye to Xavier, but his time at Weathervane was only for a day.

‘’My time here is up in ten minutes,’’ he said, bringing the dirty dishes he had collected from the tables after you had just finished with a customer. ‘’Would I be out of line to ask for your number?’’

His question came to you as a surprise.

You never gave your number to customers. You were there to make money and — in a near future — get out of Jericho, not find love. But Xavier was not a customer and he was also not a real employee, which wouldn’t go against company policy.

His green eyes were looking at you, waiting for your answer. You didn’t want today to be the last time you saw him.

You pulled a marker from your apron’s pocket and grabbed Xavier’s arm, scribbling your number on his skin. A piece of paper would have been more favorable, but with your number right on his arm, there’s no way he’ll forget about you.

Xavier looked down at his arm, not expecting you to do this. ‘’Normal people use paper, you know?’’

‘’What’s the fun in that? Besides, you don’t have a way to lose my number…unless you lose your arm.’’

He shook his head and grinned. ‘’I don’t plan on it. It’s my good hand so it would be very unfortunate for me.’’

A loud throat clearing came from the side of the café where Tyler was passing a mop, breaking the moment. ‘’No personal business on working hours.’’

—

Xavier Thorpe taglist: @sofiaadler @partyfly @hoodforcalum @thelilacmourning @ellessecretobsession @su-alteza-emia @achoo---uu @not-leaprvt @xaviersgf @peterparkerdilf @roadworkaheadisurehopeitdoes @dragon-chica @coldtacozinepanda @wrldofsage @eddiemunsonsluvrrr @capriaura @officialsaturn @babyfiva @maevaomizzolo @kelloggs-world @whosljt @ajpanda181 @belovedrey @emerycrt @elizabitchsshit @heaven-hiding @lilithlikestoread @est-liber @moonisu @dessxoxsworld @parker-nite @bellblake121890 @vesperazhier @kaldurahms-lover @beeebo234 @nephilimsss @mayuphoenix @sweetheartlizzie07 @watermelon-18 @snixx2088 @555stargirl555 @robinscardigan @chumchum19 @lilttblog @aphex2winn @heizenka @mystargirl-interlude @hwrtsiren @babygirljay20 @wildflowerlyss @strangersomeone @openfandoms @charlottelaffin @iheartmaddyperez @starless-starkov @ali-r3n @poppet05

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x you #xavier wednesday #wednesday #wednesday imagine #wednesday netflix #percy hynes white

2K notes · View notes

littlest-dark-age · 2 years

Text

Crawl on me, sink into me, die for me

Headcannons for perv!dark!eddie

tagging my bby who helped me brainstorm a fuck ton of this @omenhel

listen to while reading : rot away by jesse jo stark

tw for scent kink, possessive eddie, cry baby eddie, slight manipulation, mentions of periods and sanitary products, slight stalking mention, holding his dick while he pees, somno, pillow humping, slight cnc, anal, face sitting, wet dreams, cockwarming, mentions of a fleshlight, if I missed any please let me know

He would try to subtlely sniff you whenever the two of you would hug. Tucking his face into your neck and playing off his deep breath as a sigh of happiness from the affection. Thinks you smell so much better without any type of spray or deodorant on. Thinks your natural smell is much more pleasing, and loves it.

Constantly stealing little trinkets from your room/house. Used lip balm, partially ate bag of snacks, the lotion you use after you shower, underwear etc. He has a little unmarked box in his closet with everything collected. Plans to set up a display in the corner of his closet. Arranges "pictures" of the two of you for it, they're just clippings of different pictures of the two of you separate that he put together and created false scenarios for.

Eddie gets worked up whenever he sees what he thinks is you flirting with other people. Tears well up, lips poked out in a pout as he practically steams while you talk to them. When you're done, he looks at you with his big brown eyes and asks if you would rather go date them instead of some freak trailer trash. Not believeing you when you tell him that nobody could ever possibly replace him until you give him a kiss and he still clings to you for the rest of the day. Not wanting to let you up even to go the the bathroom, holding onto your clothes as he follows you around like a sad little puppy. Asks if he can come inside the bathroom with you and hold your hand during.

Bribes steve and robin to let him see what movies you've been renting, and for them to keep them back the next time they're free so he can rent them. Using the movies as another excuse to talk to you about anything he can.

Eddie would die if you ever asked to borrow his jackets because you got cold. The sight of you in them making his heart just about beat out of his chest, and later whenever you give it back, the idea of his scent on you has his eyes rolling back.

But on the other hand, he would absolutely steal your clothes as a way to be "closer" to you. Doesn't matter if they're too small and end up crop tops or if they're bigger and end up leaving him drowning in the fabric. He constantly is running his hands over the material, thinking about how many times you've worn it and the fact that you'll probably wear it once he gives it back. Not realizing the fact that he wore it and will be wrapping yourself with it, with him.

If he ever does a favor for you, the only thing he'll ever ask for in return is a kiss. Seeming so happy and smug when he asks for it, knowing you won't say no because what's the harm in a little kiss? None, as far as you're concerned. But it only fuels him and sends him deeper into the dark thoughts in his mind.

Eddie's such a cry baby when it comes to you. He whines whenever you get up from the two of you cuddling, pouting and trying to pull you back by your clothes. Practically has a tantrum like a kid who's favorite toy has been taken when he sees someone else interested in you. Which most of the time, is someone simply trying to make a friendly conversation with you. But Eddie thinks every body in the town of hawkins is trying to take the one good thing in his life away from him and he simply won't stand for it

Thought he went to died and accidentally went to heaven the first time the two of you shared a bed. Sticking to you like glue, no matter how much you might move in your sleep, he would follow and find out a comfortable way to wrap himself around your odd positions. Essentially turning into an octopus with the way he's able to cling onto you.

He can't stand the idea of you getting hurt and him not being able to help. Starts to stash first aid kits and whatever you might need for an injury every where. He doesn't want you going to anybody else besides him whenever you need something, especially when you're in pain or need help.

Will "visit" your work place every few hours to check up on you and make sure you're still there. Hates the thought of not knowing where you are and being able to get in touch with you. It worries him, even though the logical part of his brain knows you're probably simply just busy

(If you menstruate) Eddie would absolutely change out your tampon for you. On his knees, not caring if he gets anything on his hands. Looking up at you to make sure its comfortsble and okay. He'd make sure your pad is right where you need it, checking in with you that its positioned right. Always makes sure your cups are clean and that they sit right. His free hands softly stroking your leg waiting for you to make sure he did it good enough.

If you ever joked about holding him while he went to the bathroom, he would instantly agree. He doesn't see anything odd or weird about it. Gently instructing you on how to shake and everything needed. Now he brings you to the bathroom with him constantly, telling you that he has a special job he needs help with. He considers it, simply couple bonding.

He knows he shouldn't be so obsessed with you, shouldn't want to follow you like a lost puppy. But he can't help himself. Every moment, he realized, is spent thinking about you. If you'd like it if he wore a different shirt, if you needed help, if someone was trying to damage your image of him....

Eddie wouldn't know what to do if you started thinking the same way hawkins does. Thinking that he's a devil worshiper when the only thing he's ever worshiped is you. He would bow at your feet if it would make you happy, would let you take your anger out on him as long as it served you. He can't believe someone like you would let someone like him ever touch you. But he will never take it for granted. Thanking you for every caress of his hair, of every kiss, of every word uttered to him.

Nsfw

About cums in his pants the first time you even so much as lay your legs across his lap, much less sitting in it. He bites back a groan every time you shift ever so slightly, and thinks it's you teasing him about how hard he gets for you.

Has used your hand to jerk off when you're at his and staying the night, while kissing you as you slept.

Constantly sprays your scent on a pillow that's your replacement for whenever you have to leave. Clings to it and even humps it sometimes. About cries when he cums on it because then it won't smell like you when he washes it.

Eddie often sneaks into your bedroom, after a while of dating he convinced you too start to leave your window unlocked in case he ever wanted to surprise you. He "surprises" you a couple of times a week while you're asleep. Carefully climbing in, making sure to keep his steps light as possible. He stands by the window for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath, before slinking over to you and crawling under the covers. Running his hands up and down your soft legs, his eyes practically roll back as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. Pressing sloppy kisses up to your cunt where he doesn't even bother taking off your underwear and flattening his tongue. Lapping at you while he humps your soft sheets, his hands on your hips to keep you pressed against his face in case you move in your sleep.

Always has his hands under your shirt, sometimes just softly stroking your warm skin. Other times, his hands start to drift up to your chest. Feeling you up with the excuse of his hands being cold, while he pinches and plays with your nipples. Ignoring your whining about him being mean and that he shouldn't be doing it.

Eddie tries to convince you to do anal. Surprising you by pushing his thumb into your tight hole when you're on your hands and knees, slipping his tongue in while he gives you sloppy head. Anything he can do to convince you that he would make it feel good for you and that its not dirty.

The amount of wet dreams he has about you is embarrassing, especially because they're not intense or hard core. Most of the time it's you letting him explore your body and get to know every single inch of it. Or even, him sucking on your chest while you brush his hair out of his face for him.

Cried the first time the two of you had sex, which was his first time. Was nervous about telling you but felt it would be the best option. Stutters out the fact that he's still a virgin and expects you to laugh at him. Shock washes over him when you still climb into his lap, telling him that it's okay and that you'll take good care of him. Gets so loud while you ride him that at first you stick your fingers in his mouth but he's still too loud. You reach over and grab your disgarded panties and shove them into his loud mouth. Eddie clenches his eyes shut at the feeling of the already wet fabric in order to try to not instantly cum but it doesn't help. Loud moans muffled from the fabric and frantic bucking of his hips let you know he's about to cum in you.

Steals your body products all the time. Uses things like your lotion and body wash(if he's in the shower) to jerk off with. Just grins whenever you complain about running out of product. He's tempted to replace the difference in your lotion with his cum..

Will beg on his knees to get you to sit on his face. Head shoved into your lower stomach, grip tight on your shirt while he begs for it over and over. Showing you how desperate he is for your thighs to smother him, how he wouldn't want you to stop even if he was choking. He tells you he needs it like he need the very air he breathes.

"Oh god. Hah, fuck baby. You feel so good. Gonna squeeze me to death. Just like that, fuck yes, love you. Love you so much. No one else can make me feel this way. I'd do whatever you want as long as you let me stay like this! Hah"

Loves and lives for cockwarming, it always makes him feel closer to you. Being able to just be in you while the two of you snuggle or take a nap. He thinks its a good way for the two of you get closer, as if that's what your relationship lacked.

So loud. Just, so loud. He rambles during sex so much. You might get the cops called on you because he sounds like he's being murdered rather than having you ride him. Usually also crying from how overwhelmed he gets, but will pout and look up at you all bleary eyes if you stop. Sniffling and asking if something's wrong, if you'd rather be on bottom. Instantly starts trying to flip you over while his cheeks are still wet with tears becauee he thinks that's what you're asking for.

Went beet red when you found his fleshlight, tucked away in a drawer when you were looking for clothed. He tried to stutter out that it wasn't his but the two of you knew the truth. The tips of his ears turnjng bright red when you tease him and ask him if he uses it when you're not there, if he says your name and pretends its you he's fucking. The only response he can muster up is a shaky nod, hoping you don't notice how hard just talking about it got him. Cries and whines when you make him fuck it instead of you, telling him to show you exactly how he does it. Practically sobbing that he wanted to cum in you while thrusting into the plastic toy.

#perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #dark eddie munson #dark eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #dark!eddie munson #stranger things hc #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #stranger things headcanons #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine

7K notes · View notes

nanamimizz · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐕𝚬𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐘

tags: 18+ minors dni, fem reader, condom usage, established relationship, raw sex, creampie, mating press, overstimulation, dacryphilia, cervix fucking (mentioned once), manhandling - let me know if i miss something

synopsis: it’s your three year anniversary and barou knows exactly how to celebrate it, you don’t think you can take it.

Barou’s neat freakiness was well known but no one knew just how far it ran. In the same way, Barou had a specific routine for his day by day so did he have specific rules that would not be broken. Roll towels -do not fold them over, pair all socks immediately and keep all baskets in the washroom. He has rules about personal care too, his long warm-ups and cool-downs, and brushing his teeth three times a day.

And most of these things charm you in a way - seeing how detailed his red gaze makes you laugh behind your hand in a way that Barou thinks has no reason to be that cute. Well, all but one rule makes you laugh like that. Barou Shoei in the three years you’ve been dating after meeting at a high school reunion that ended with phone numbers being exchanged to tonight’s dinner coming to an end has been maintained without room for budging.

He always has to wear a rubber.

It was nice the first couple of months, even with being on the pill at first it made you almost purr seeing how adamant he was on it. After a year the charm had half worn off, any pleas fell on deaf ears after he had pulled you aside for a quickie only to realize his condom had expired. What resulted from that was you getting your thighs fucked and coming around nothing from the silky head of his cock nudging against your clit. The second year you had admitted to him that you no longer planned to take the pill, clearly subtlety wasn’t the strongest trait in the men of his family as it only made him more adamant on condom usage.

It wasn’t until tonight - it’s your third anniversary and you both were changing for bed. He was in the bathroom, his hair down and smelling of soap as he looked at how you gently hung the pretty dress you wore for him but Barou can’t help but think about how much prettier you are dressed in ultra-soft leggings and a dark green long sleeve. He catches one last glimpse of you before turning back to the sink for the task of brushing his teeth. He had left his wallet on the counter, letting it flap in any way it wanted to and his eyes were caught on the raunchy yellow packaging almost neon in the soft lighting you installed in the bathroom.

Barou thinks profoundly for a moment and thinks about you and all the ways he loves you. He’s introduced you to his sisters that call him a loser whenever you are in their presence. You tell them to apologize as they whisk you away and he can catch their half-assed “sorry big brother sho!” on the air while he rolls his eyes at their antics. He gets you soy milk instead of cow milk, and he doesn’t call you a donkey or peasant. That might seem like a weird thing but for Barou that’s a big deal - is probably what you would say in his defense which makes him huff amusedly as he spits out the toothpaste in the sink.

Barou takes the condom out of the folds of his wallet and it lands in the trash with a satisfying ‘flick’.

He comes out of the bathroom and he feels his shoulders drop at the sight of you carefully running a lint roller over his blazer before you zip up the covering, and tuck it away in the closet like you did with your own dress.

Yeah, Barou Shohei doesn’t need anything holding him back tonight.

Three years is a long time, and his hand twitched at the idea of finally having you the proper way, the right way. It’s apparent in the way he kisses you, big hands settling on the curve of your ass in those oh-so-soft leggings of yours that always make him ask you to walk in front of him. You gasp and whine when his tongue makes its way into your mouth - a king on a conquest and you concede without a battle. Your hands curl themselves into his shirt, fisting the fabric as Barou bends his back to have more of the taste of honey on your lips until his teeth ache. He’s sucking your tongue, tracing your teeth, groping, and grabbing at your cute ass. Barou delights in the wet and thin little sounds you make, and he pulls away when he has to not because he wants to. He takes joy in the thin glossy strings that trail after him.

You panting - all soft and thin little sounds that drive him crazy and you’re quick to bring a hand to cover your face when he squeezes your ass again. Barou is back to bumping heads with you, nudging your head with a hungry look in his eyes that makes you want to run and hide.

Lest you are found in the lion’s maw.

“More - I want more, I want to devour you.” He mumbles and you can feel the bass in his chest when he presses his own lips to yours and you gasp when you are met with tongue and teeth. You can only let out shudders of his name, gasps,, and whines because he keeps going until you feel your knees folding when met with the edge of the bed. A hand much bigger than yours goes from your ass to your chest and you find yourself flat on the bed.

From above you, Barou is mighty, and from beneath him, you are divine.

“What’s - what’s gotten into you tonight?” You ask with swollen lips and stolen breath. Barou shakes his head, reaching under your comfortable clothes, and groans at the soft skin under his palms. You smell like the expensive lotion you splurge on, notes of jasmine and peonies are in the air and he thinks about how sweet the smell of your cunt would mix with them.

“It’s our anniversary you’re dumb if you think I’m not going to fuck you tonight.” He gruffs out, red eyes looking at the way you bite your lip and flush at his vulgar word choice. How someone as delicate as you got with him he’ll never know but he’s for sure not going to ruin his gift with insolence. Your shirt is off, his hands tug at the band of your leggings and he can’t help but let out a curse at the sight of pretty lace meeting him. He can see the curls of your hair through the sheer fabric and you hide behind your hand as he finishes tugging off your bottoms.

“You wear pretty things like this for me and you still thought I wouldn’t fuck you tonight?” He almost growls at you and in return you turn away, unable to meet his gaze. Your undergarments look all the more dainty under his fingers when he tugs away the fabric and there’s a groan that is ripped from his chest when he sees the sticky strings of slick that cling to the gusset of the panties.

Your clit is hard, flushed among the petals of folds and your thighs jolt at his touch. His fingers can’t help but strum at it fast and rough, making you whine his name all high and pathetic. Red eyes look at how you shine in the soft golden lamps of the bedroom and moan at how just being played with the littlest bit makes you leak down his palm.

“Fuck, fuck you’re leaking it’s like you’re in heat for me.” He mutters from above you, letting a finger shallowly enter your cunt. Laughing when you tense up hips hiking and thighs popping shut, there’s something wicked in his vermillion gaze.

“You’re fucking cute, huh? Acting like you haven’t taken fucking my cock before?” He can see the sweat that drips down the side of your cheek and fights the urge to lick it up. You shake your head and it’s like your whole body trembles when you feel his finger sink further inside of you.

“It’s not that - just everything ah! Everything is sensitive t-today.” You gasp out and your eyes shut and you feel the telling sign of tears because Barou had slipped in another finger, curling it up into that spongy spot on your upper wall.

“Yeah? You need it bad, huh?” He asks you all mocking and cruelty because he knows, keeping a thumb at your clit and you feel like your brain is gonna melt out of your ears. You whimper into his smug grin and he laughs at your scrunched expression because you’re about to come for him. Despite being covered by your hair he can see how warm your ears are when your hands come to grip at the forearm of the hand that’s fucking your cunt with almost cruel precision. There are tears in your eyes as you cum with a squeal of his name - he can see his reflection in the shine and there is something vicious in his stomach that groans in approval at your pleasure-stricken face.

Barou tries very hard to be gentle with you, leaning into his better nature with tentative steps but right now with his head swimming with all the things he wants to do to you - he can’t help but want to be a villain. There’s nothing gentle with how he lets your orgasm crash and burn through you, your nerves buzzing and burning as you tremble beneath him. Your thighs are still shaking and your nipples are tight, his cock slaps against your folds; he moans with you at how the strings of your cum cling to the silk skin of its ruddy head. It rubs into your folds, and you feel tears drip down your cheeks because when one orgasm fuzzes out you still have more pleasure to traverse.

“Ah- wait, where’s the condom Sho-” You began to ask and you can only squeak when you feel the bare head of his cock being pressed into the opening between the petals of your cunt. Your hands had gone to clutch at his biceps - you had gotten your nails down for dinner tonight and Barou can’t help but moan at the sting.

“Not wearing one, I’m, fuck,” His head is in and Barou feels like the floor just swallowed him when he feels how hot you are. Barou is most familiar to your body, has seen it, and touched it the most intimately over the years. He’s felt your warmth and felt your slick when it would drip down to his balls but this..this was different. It feels like a punch to the gut, how you take him - a tight little fit because you’re in that time of the month when all your body can think about is cock. It’s like hot silk, pulpy and needy with how it drools around him and there’s a shiver that racks down his back when he feels a drop of your slick drip down a particularly sensitive vein down the left side of his cock. “I’m fucking you raw.”

His words are heavy in the air and you only let out soft girlish sounds when he pushes the rest of his cock in, long and heavy as it twitches inside of you. You’re losing your mind, it feels like the first time all over again and you feel like you’re going to sob your heart out with each inch that slips inside of you. Swallows around nothing and groans as he presses against your forehead when he feels himself slip the base. Is this how he could have had you for the past three years?

But it isn’t enough. Not like this.

His hands go to grip your thighs so tightly you mewl at the sting, red eyes lock on where your bodies are joined and you feel the ache in your joints as his hands force your thighs further and further apart.

“A-ah, Shoei what are you doing?” You ask voice wobbling and thin as you feel yourself being manhandled, your weight shifting higher and higher on your upper back. The world tilts on its axis as you feel your ankles meeting the sturdy skin of his defined shoulders. The angle makes everything slip further - the head of his cock meeting a special sponge-like spot that makes you moan high and thin. It makes his cock twitch, eyes snapping up to watch how you keep the tears coming and you’re trembling all over.

“Trying to see what I've been missin’ all this time - tryin' to fuck you the right way.” He grunts out, voice thick and rough, racked with lust that he can’t contain. The first thrust feels like a freight train and you squeal like a mouse at the feeling of it, an adorable little tidbit but it isn’t what he wanted. He fucks you deeper, harder he’s sure there will be indents of his hips on your cute ass that ripples each time your bodies smack against each other. It’s too much for you, the weight, the length, and the strength of his cock. You’re too delicate at times and he feels your dainty hand come up to his pelvis, nails swiping at his stomach accidentally and he tries to [push past the way the sting makes him moan.

Barou wanted you to sound like a whore, just for him, just for tonight.

“You holdin’ out on me? Begged for my dick like this for years and now you have it you can’t take it?” He grunts at you, hiking you further up until you’re bent into a shape you’ve never been in. Your ankles are freely hanging in the air and your hands grip his biceps. Your shoulders and your cunt feel like a river - you don’t know how you’ll live with the embarrassment that you like being manhandled like this.

Barou feels like a beast and less of a man, he should have fucked you like this from the beginning because he can feel how you pulse, how you moan in time to the flutters of your walls and the throbs of your clit. You’re soaking him from tip to balls and he groans when he feels your slick drip down to his inner thighs. Thighs twitching at the idea of you creaming on his for the first time makes him ignore the burning in his core because Barou thinks if he’s denied that he’ll kill someone and he is desire is realized faster than he thought.

You fall apart with a wail - something too loud and deep in your chest he’s sure the next house overheard you and the thought makes him pump into you at an even pace. The stimulation makes the pleasure endure and it’s like watching the fibers of your mind being frayed right in front of you. Your cum is milky, thin, and opaque and Barou watches it froth at the base of his cock even spilling into the trimmed black hairs of his crotch. He moans because fuck, fuck this is what he’s been waiting for.

There’s a fog in your eyes and you wonder if you even have a brain anymore and when the too-hot pleasure pain from Barou’s thrusts keeps up you know you do. You peek down at where you two are connected and moans so weakly he wonders if he broke you. There are red scratch marks on his biceps and you gasping, stuttering over your words because God this is the best sex of your life.

“Di-did you cum, ah, Shoei?” You ask with a rocky voice and you whine in between the syllables because you feel the bump as the head of his cock meets a wall it’s never touched before.

“Nah - that’s just, fuck,” you twitched around him when he bumps into the wall of your cunt again,” that’s just fucking you and this messy cunt you got.” You moan with him at the same and your eyes have black rims around them from the remnants of mascara that you couldn’t get off but most certainly had cried off looking up to meet him. Barou doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more prettier than right now, and he thinks about how he’ll get to have this view again and again until you get sick of him.

Maybe that’s the thought that gets him - in time with the shuddering ache at his core of fucking you like an animal and he spills into you. You gasp his name, whining it out and Barou’s never felt like more of a man than right now as you watch how his cum leaks out of you; cunt swollen and puffy he can’t help but huff when he feels his cock twitch at the thought of filling you again. Your legs are still over his shoulders and he turns his head to press a kiss to the delicate slope of your calf.

“Hope you’re ready for the next round,” he mutters into your scented skin nipping at the delicate line of your ankles. “I still have more I want to devour.”

What a foolish thing you are, you’ve always been in the lion’s maw and what a lovesick thing you are turning away bashfully but still presenting yourself for him. Greedy things the two of you really.

#lamb.writes #barou smut #barou shoei smut #blue lock smut #bllk smut #felt insane writing this btw

555 notes · View notes

sbdskate · 9 months

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 7) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, hangovers, sexual themes, self-pleasure, references to sexual activities, NSFW

Word Count: 5,209

A/N: Thank you for your patience while I took a bit of a break. Hopefully it won’t be as long while I finish up *the last part (*hopefully but no promises - iykyk). I hope you enjoy, please don’t be a ghost reader! Constructive criticism is always welcome <3

Daniel woke up the next morning feeling like an anvil dropped on his head. He cursed the alarm but was thankful he had the foresight to set one. It was a tall order trying to sort through the details of the night before. He had his phone, keys, and wallet, so that was a win at least. What time had he gotten back to the hotel? He recounted the most peculiar dream that you had been in his room at one point – he reminded himself to lay off the melatonin, it always made his subconscious mind run wild. It took every ounce of energy to push himself upright, swinging his legs to the side of the bed at a glacial pace. Fighting the throbbing in his head, he almost missed the pills and water on the nightstand and a trash bin next to him on the floor. Drunk Daniel had never been so thoughtful or organized. Maybe it wasn’t melatonin after all. Those familiar butterflies he felt every time he thought of you fluttered away.

On second thought, definitely not butterflies.

After unceremoniously emptying the contents of his stomach, he gladly consumed the gifts you had left for him. He took a much longer shower than usual, doing his best to wash away the anxiety brought on by his hangover. He was going into the last race weekend of the year (maybe two) feeling like absolute shit. The thought of you putting him to bed initially made him giddy but it was overshadowed by fear of the unknown. His memory of the night before was fuzzy at best and but for the physical evidence you left behind, he would have gone on believing the kiss in Brazil was the last time the two of you interacted. Fuck, he had made such a fool of himself. What else had he inadvertently said or done last night? If you had walls up before, you probably now also had a moat, barbed wire, and trained militia on guard. In his efforts to get closer to you, you ended up pushing him away. You were the sun and he was Icarus.

But clearly all was not lost if you had helped him in his hour of need. If he could trust his “dream,” you had called him your friend. You had worn his clothes. You insinuated there would be a world where the two of you would be alone in a bedroom again. If all true, the culmination of those things did not add up to a person who wanted to completely shut him out. Then again, maybe that was you simply being you – that is, a good person who would show the same compassion to anyone whether they were your lover, friend, or stranger on the street.

He hadn’t had this lack of confidence picking up girls since he was an awkward teenager. From the beginning you had been a puzzle. You did not immediately fawn over him and fall victim to his charms. He sensed you may have even disliked him upon your first meeting, though he couldn’t blame you – he had severely underestimated you. Thereafter, every one of your laughs was hard earned which made them all the more sweet. You were accomplished in your own right and impressing you was a tall order, but when he succeeded it felt as though he had won Monaco a million times over.

He thought back to Austin. So much had gone wrong, but so much had gone oh so right. There was an ease about you that weekend that he had only previously been privy to in staccato bursts. Whatever internal struggle you had been fighting seemingly slowed, allowing him to peel back all your layers. Even in that sad corridor, he could’ve sat next to you in silence for all of eternity and he would have been happy.

Then there was that pesky elephant in the room. In just a few days, he technically wouldn’t be your client anymore. He could get lost in all the tempting possibilities, but he had to stay focused. He’d cross that bridge later. Until then, all he had to do was stay in your good graces.

When the day came for your first client meeting in Abu Dhabi, you weren’t sure what version of Daniel you were going to get. You wouldn’t be surprised if he froze you out again like he did after Austin. It would be disappointing but understandable. You had explained yourself more than enough at this point though, and the position you found yourselves in wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted that your client would fall for you when you were selected as counsel for the driver. You couldn’t control his response, and if you reasserting your boundaries made him that upset then so be it.

No, there were no nerves this time but there was still an underlying anxiety that caused your heart to race. The partner was waiting at the offsite dinner location when you arrived. It was an elegant restaurant, so you had selected a pretty but conservative wrap dress for the occasion.

“Y/n, so glad you could make it,” he said as he extended his arms for a small hug.

“Me? I’ve been at every race weekend, not sure where you’ve been,” you teased.

“I know, I know, it’s been busy. I appreciate all your hard work through this. I’ve told the managing partner about your efforts, we’re all very impressed.” You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face, but you did your best to hide the absolute giddiness swelling in you. That bonus was yours to lose at this point and if this trajectory continued, you could make partner by the time you were 35.

“Thank you for the recognition, but I’m just doing my job,” you feigned in modesty. You knew how many hours of sleep you’d lost over the course of the last few months between the work itself and the constant travel. You knew how much you missed your friends and family during this time, and the other countless sacrifices you’d made along the way. But you would do it all over again for the once in a lifetime opportunity. And you never would have met Daniel - that certainly counted for something. Maybe after last week your relationship wouldn’t be the same going forward, but his companionship until now had offered you an unexpected fulfillment that felt foreign.

Then, as if someone had read your mind:

“She’s being modest,” you heard behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to see him in nice slacks, a crisp white t-shirt, and sport coat. For someone that was probably fighting for their life this morning and suffered through a long media day, he cleaned up very nicely. You did your best not to openly ogle, though he caught the quickened rise and fall of your chest. You couldn’t help but smile back when he gave you his signature grin.

“Daniel, great to see you,” Joe said as he extended his arm past you to shake his hand.

“Likewise, nice of you to finally show up.” His tone and features were so pleasant that he could pass off the genuine dig as jest. Either way, the partner was unphased.

“Well, that’s why I brought in my very best associate to help me out as back up.”

“I suppose I should consider myself lucky then,” he said, smiling back at you. “Though, I don’t think I would call her ‘back up’by any means.”

The familiar heat rose to your cheeks as you bit your lip to unsuccessfully suppress your bashful smile. You gently elbowed him to convey your thanks. Both for defending you but also for the normalcy of the interaction.

You anticipated a level of awkwardness after your nondescript rejection in Brazil, thinking he would try to distance himself as he had after Austin. You wouldn’t fault him if he sat next to Joe, but he plopped down right next to you as though nothing had happened. An unexpected wave of relief washed over you. It seemed clear that you were “good”, whatever that meant. Sure, it helped to have Joe there as a buffer, but the two of you would have probably been fine on your own. The thought gave you solace.

The uneventful meal concluded with a plan of action in place for the rest of the weekend. The three of you made your way out of the restaurant towards the valet.

“I hope the two of you will enjoy the weekend at least until we complete the signing on Monday? Consider it a thank you.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that line before, but it felt different this time.

“I’ll have to take some calls here and there, but sure, why not,” Joe responded, oblivious to the fact that the message was hardly meant for him.

“Good, I’ll make sure you guys have your paddock passes for the next few days.”

Of course as if on cue the partner’s phone went off as you exited the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. But hey, great dinner. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yep, have a good night,” you trailed off as he walked away, smiling through gritted teeth. You watched as he got into the corporate car by himself already focused on something else entirely, even though you were all going back to the same place.

“Typical.” You turned to Daniel, surprised at his observation.

“Could you tell?”

“Seems like we both have bosses who abandon us.” You smiled.

“What an unfortunate bonding experience.”

It was a heavy conversation, but the air was light. You both giggled at your misfortunes. When it died down, he broke the silence.

“Uh, thanks for making sure I was… accounted for last night.”

“Oh,” your cheeks dusted pink. You had such high hopes he wouldn’t remember. Maybe there was still a chance, perhaps Lando had simply filled him in. “Sure, no biggie. It happens to the best of us.”

“I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing, right?” Daniel tested the waters, partially playing dumb. His memory may be fuzzy, but he knew enough. You pursed your lips together.

“Nothing more than usual,” you said with a smile, playing it off. He felt slightly disappointed. He wished you would admit to the kiss along with the hopes you’d bestowed upon him – but maybe it was just in his head after all. Either way, you didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the conversation and that was a clear enough message to him. He knew what he needed to do.

“Can I just say,” he paused. He might need to go back inside for another drink. “- that I’m sorry. For everything. You’re just here trying to do your job, and I’m not making it easier for you. You’ve said no, and I keep trying dumb shit. I should have stopped.”

Your chest tightened. The apology was somehow welcome, appreciated, and warranted. But you also found it endearing which made you like him even more. And it also probably meant that he had lost interest and that last part didn’t make you feel great either. You wanted to tell him everything but doing so would only complicate things. Instead you bit your tongue and gave a polite smile.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

“No, thank you. I’ve made an ass of myself over and over again and you put up with it.”

“Well. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from my first celebrity client, but ‘ass’ was certainly in the realm of possibility,” you said cheekily. “Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.” The lie slipped easily through your teeth.

“So you assumed I was going to be an ass?” he asked with a laugh.

“What did Drive to Survive call you guys? ‘Talented, rich, and cocky’?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, but his face was still warm and welcoming.

“Don’t tell me you watch that garbage.”

“For research purposes, obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He watched your eyes twinkle and the sly grin that graced your features as the desert wind gently blew your hair around your face, framing it perfectly. You fixed the strand he so badly wanted to tuck behind your ear yourself. Your wrap dress fluttered just so, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your upper thigh, contrasting the otherwise modest outfit. He wondered what it would be like to tug at the delicate bow at the side of your waist that kept the whole ensemble together. He caught himself in the middle of his thoughts.

“Since your boss left you stranded, can I give you a ride back?” You looked around, a serious look on your face. You whispered in a low voice.

“Is that… appropriate? I know men and women aren’t supposed to be alone together here.” He wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make you feel bad. Of course the lawyer wanted to follow everything to a T. He knew from experience that the morality laws were loosely enforced at best, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was attributed to his own privilege.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could pretend to be your chauffeur.” The line earned him a laugh.

“An F1 driver as a chauffeur. That’s rich.” He smiled, satisfied with his efforts to put you at ease.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yeah, but the expectations are pretty high.”

“You’ll have to let me know if I have a backup career as a personal driver if this whole F1 thing doesn’t work out.”

The valet pulled around an unassuming black SUV with tinted windows. Without skipping a beat, he opened the back passenger’s seat door waiting for you with an extended hand dipping into an exaggerated bow.

“Your chariot, m’lady.”

“Oh my, what service,” you contrived dramatics with a hand over your heart. Your other hand graciously accepted his while getting into the car. The familiar pulsating electricity coursed through the touch and lingered as you watched him close the door.

“Home Jeffrey,” you said, donning the worst British accent you could muster when he settled in the drivers seat. He peered at you in the reflection of the rearview mirror. You looked relaxed and happy, and that was enough for him. Your eyes locked, and you caught a glimpse of those dimples that could melt polar ice caps.

It was a comfortable ride back to the hotel, a little small talk here and there. He tossed the keys to the valet and helped you out of the car, again trying to memorize the feeling of your palm in his before reluctantly letting go.

He pressed for his floor in the elevator. He looked at you when you didn’t follow suit, wondering for a moment whether he forgot his manners.

“Uh, what floor are you?” he asked politely, hovering over the buttons.

“Oh… I actually ended up down the hall from you.”

“Oh.” A loud silence fell. It was unclear whether the arrangement was fortuitous or simply torture for both parties, the other so close but just out of reach.

The doors opened and you tried to hide a sheepish look as you started walking in the same direction.

“Are you following me now?” he joked. “I don’t need help getting into bed this time, promise.”

You stammered a bit, trying to find the right words but decided to keep your mouth shut. You had begged the concierge to find you any other room but she insisted the hotel was fully booked and there were no other options. But you realized in that moment it would only be weird if you made it weird. Humor was always the best deflection so you decided to lean into it. Your ability to hide your growing smile began to falter. Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, you didn’t say a word as you walked past him when he finally stopped in front of his door. Only looking back in his direction to wave when you stopped in front of yours which happened to be the room over. You both snorted before dissolving into laughter over the absurdity of it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to throw any ragers,” you said between fits of giggles.

“You mean I wouldn’t be invited?” he asked in faux disbelief.

“You know you’re always welcome, what’s a party without thee Daniel Ricciardo? I just wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘high performance athlete’ routine before race day.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“If you threw a ‘rager’, everyone would be sitting in a circle doing face masks with Celine Dion playing in the background like some kind of selfcare séance. And it would be over by 10pm.” The laughter that had finally started to slow picked up again. His heart skipped a beat seeing your nose scrunch.

“Hey now, you forgot the scented candles. That open flame is a safety hazard.”

“You are just too wild and crazy.”

“You know me so well. I’ll do my best to keep it down, no promises though.” The laughter slowed again, but the wide grins remained.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… neighbor.” You smiled, liking the way it sounded coming from him.

“I guess so, good night neighbor.”

You closed your respective doors, each acutely aware of the one wall that separated you.

Daniel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes the next morning, aimlessly palming his nightstand to turn off his alarm. He made his way to the bathroom, slowly shaking away his slumber. He was washing his hands when he realized there was more noise than what was coming from the faucet. He turned the water off and listened. He picked out the sound of running water. There may have been music playing from a phone, but it was drowned out by a muffled, unmistakable, offkey voice he could pick out anywhere.

Cuz when the night faaaaallls

My loneliness calls

Boo doo boo DOOP

Ohhhhh I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the HEAT with somebody

yeaAHH I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

He smiled to himself listening to you try to do lead, backup vocals, and instrumentals of the Whitney Houston classic, reminiscing back to your performance with Lando in Japan. The warmth that spread from his chest to his toes woke him up, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of optimism for the practice sessions ahead.

As he left to head to the paddock, he heard another door close. His timing was meticulous and he counted his blessings that he should be so fortunate to share more time with you. He couldn’t help the giant smile that grew on his face at the sight of you, immediately imagining you singing in the shower. You double checked for something in your bag before you looked up to meet his gaze. You looked behind you to make sure his dimples weren’t reserved for someone else.

“Hi?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hi.” He knew he looked dumb, but he didn’t care. He was allowed to smile at you, right?

“You’re awfully happy to see me this morning.” The corners of your mouth turned upward, marked with a cautious skepticism.

“Yeah, h-” He stopped himself. How was your sold out stadium tour in the shower? But if this was a ritual of yours, he didn’t want to miss out on future performances – he did still have three more days with you. “I’m just excited for the practice session.”

Your smile relaxed somewhat. “I’m glad you’re feeling confident. Do you wanna walk over together?”

“Oh, you’re going there too?” He mentally smacked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Where else would you be going?

“Well yeah. You invited Joe and I, remember?”

“Right. Wasn’t sure if you were off to do lawyer things.”

“I mean I am, but the track is a lot more fun than the hotel lobby. Y’know?”

He did. And the walk there was much nicer with your company. He enjoyed this new morning routine and would be sure to make it happen the rest of the weekend. On his own he may have felt the gravity of the situation more, may have simply gone through the motions to get it all over with, the weight on his shoulders too much to bear. But your presence invigorated him. Helped him believe that there were better things on the horizon. He just needed to clear this one last hurdle and he had the strength to do it. He was consistent in the Friday practice sessions, and your shower version of “Pocketful of Sunshine” the next morning helped him place P10 for qualifying.

You too found this morning pattern soothing. You were pleasantly surprise that you enjoyed your new neighbor more than you thought you would, and happy that what you thought would be a source of stress and awkwardness brought you peace and comfort. When race day rolled around, you had no reason to believe it would be any different than practice or qualifying, other than the fact it was a night race. So you caught up on work in the morning before you got yourself ready as usual. You decided it was a Celine Dion day, happily belting “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” unbeknownst to you that you had an audience. In another pleasant turn of events, Joe had given you the ok to leave the work at home, granting full permission to enjoy the race. You initially went for your yellow midi dress, but it triggered flashbacks to Austin. It was best to put it away, no need to risk the bad juju. You struggled to pick something else, changing no less than five times. Somehow you needed to be modest, but in something where you wouldn’t overheat, but it would cool down once the sun set, but it also had to be stylish because you were again going to be surrounded by A-listers across an array of disciplines who looked like they just walked off the runway in Milan. For once you wished you had the ease of just throwing on a suit and being done with the whole ordeal. But the thought got your creative juices flowing, and you settled on a sleek black blazer dress. You threw on the Louboutins you bought with your first Big Law pay check that only came out on special occasions, and topped off the outfit with some big gold hoops for good measure. You could always fake confidence with red bottoms, red lips, and gold hoops.

Even though you had no work with you this time, you had grown accustomed to arriving fashionably early to these events to coincide with Daniel. You gave a friendly knock on his door, expecting him to be ready at the same time as you as he had the last two days. But nothing could have prepared you for coming face to face with the Australian and his Adonis-like figure on full display. Of course he would have no shame answering the door in just a smile and a towel, though with a body like that it was amazing he wore clothes ever.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I. Uh. Um. I-” You continued to stutter as you tried to figure out where to look. You feebly tried to avert your gaze but his beautifully tan muscles demanded attention, from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his abs. You wanted to study and write a dissertation on the tattoos on his arms. You definitely wanted to memorize the line of the towel that hung just so on his hips. But you also didn’t want to make it obvious that you were staring. So your eyes darted from the ceiling, to his body, to the floor, then back to his body, in a chaotic loop.

“My eyes are up here.” His voice dripped with smugness. You definitely couldn’t look there. But you obliged, only to be met with the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen in your life. Your entire body was on fire, and the arrogant twinkle in his eye only stoked it. You knew he was hot. God knew he was hot. Everyone knew he was hot. And he knew it too. And he was having the best time seeing you flustered.

“When you’re done having a stroke, care to tell me why you’re here?”

“You have to be there in less than an hour, I thought you’d be ready to go and we could head down together!” Your tone came off as frustrated. And you were, for more reasons than one. He rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t that far and I don’t take that long to get ready. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be in my room,” you said curtly, and spared no time practically running back.

Daniel laughed to himself as he closed the door to continue getting ready. Seeing you lose any measure of control had become one of his favorite things, a stark contrast to your usual moda operendi. He paused though when an unfamiliar sound came from the wall you shared. He stood in front of it for a moment trying to decipher what it was. It sounded like an electric shaver, but why would you need one of those? His eyes widened and the blood rushed to his cheeks and crotch as it dawned on him.

Your hands were almost shaking as you got the door open. You rummaged through your bag to find your vibrator, practically ransacking your room in the process. You definitely had time to rub one out before he would be ready. The picture of his muscly tattooed thighs pressing on the back of yours flooded your brain, back bowed for him with his name falling off your tongue. Your body ached for it to be a reality, one that was so close yet so far. You fell on the bed and pressed the toy where you needed it, eyes squeezed shut, desperately wishing it was the appendage of your friendly neighbor.

Daniel had never gotten ready so fast in his entire life. No doubt, what he just witnessed was the epitome of sexual frustration. Knowing you, you would be quick and efficient about it – he could imagine you splayed on the bed with the hem of your dress bunched up. You probably didn’t even take off your underwear. An internal battle waged within him – whether to rub one out himself or rush to catch you in your immediate post orgasm bliss, the latter ultimately winning. He would have plenty of time later to take care of himself.

You were so close, when your phone went off.

DR: I’m outside your door.

The disturbance in your momentum should have thrown you off. But the idea that he was basically right there while you touched yourself pushed you right to the edge. Another fantasy intruded your thoughts, imagining what it might be like if he were to come inside and watch you. Your phone dinged again a second later.

DR: Come.

And you did.

You barely had time to come down from your orgasm as you smoothed out your skirt and grabbed your bag again.

“Hi sorry I’m ready,” you said breathlessly as you strode past him.

Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t miss the bright pink flush or the light sheen that graced your features. Your obvious glow matched the flyaways that now stuck out from your otherwise perfectly coiffed hair that made him want to drag you into his room and put that silly little imagination of yours to shame. Demand to know whether your dreams were as good as the real thing with a fistful of your hair in his hand as he buried himself deep inside you. Demand to know whether that stupid toy made you feel like half the woman he did. And that dress. That beautiful dress that hugged your body in all the right places, that showed off its peaks and valleys, that teased just the tip of your cleavage before sealing your tits away like a cruel riddle. He would ruin it. The stiffness in his pants pestered him, and he pushed the impossible thoughts away. He settled on tucking one of the out-of-place strands behind your ear, not missing the opportunity to tease you even if only a little.

“Everything ok? You’re all flushed.”

You bit back a whimper as the tip of your ear fired signals to your core and you suddenly wished your hair follicles had tactile sensors. You would’ve been blushing if your face wasn’t already red.

“Yeah… I, uh, realized I lost an earring. So I had to find it.”

“Did you?” The way his warm brown eyes bore into yours made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Yeah.” Why were you suddenly panting?

“Good. I’m glad you, uh… found your earring.” If you blinked you would’ve missed it, but you could’ve sworn you saw the flash of a smirk cross his face before it was gone. Were you still talking about earrings?

You continued to make your way to the paddock together, you stayed just a pace ahead still hesitant to make eye contact with the driver. You whipped around though when you heard a distinct *click* only to find him with his camera still aimed at you. Another *click*, the flash blinding you momentarily.

“Daniel!” The blush that had finally started to fade came back with a vengeance. He had tried to take pictures of you before, eager to practice his new hobby, and you had politely reminded him that it would pose a risk to your attorney-client privilege (it was mostly a lie, but he didn’t need to know that). But now he lowered the camera, revealing a ghost of a smirk.

“I figured it’s ok since you’re not working. Just want to remember everything from my last race day.”

“We’re in the hallway of a hotel,” you deadpanned.

“You’re right, I’ll take better pictures when we’re outside.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Natural lighting is so much better anyways.” You sighed, reluctantly granting your approval and he internally cheered. You didn’t need to know there was no way in the world he would delete the ones he already took though, that perfectly captured the curve of your backside and your beautiful, bambi eyes looking over your shoulder.

He could’ve gotten lost in his thoughts of you and he would do so happily, but he needed to get in the zone. He tried, but surprisingly the feeling never came. He found he wasn’t really nervous either. After basically processing the five stages of grief over the last few months over his career, there was nothing left for him to prove or fight for. That thought once brought him deep shame, but now it was freeing. Maybe the weight of everything would hit him later, but for now he simply wanted to be in the moment wherever the day led him. At this particular moment, that meant walking to the paddock with you at his side.

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

288 notes · View notes

isleofdarkness · 12 days

Text

No, actually, let's talk about the Core Four's Isle looks in Descendants 1.

Yeah, no.

Number one, Mal, Evie, Carlos, and maybe Jay are all very obviously wearing pleather- fake leather. If the leather was brand-new and made in a certain way, sure, it could possibly be shiny like that, but the Isle kids would not have access to leather like that. They'd probably only have leather salvaged from destroyed furniture and it would not look like that. It's way too shiny, it just looks like plastic.

The thing baout pleather is that it'll last maybe, MAYBE, twenty years before it becomes unusable. It's not good quality and not as protective as genuine leather, especially when it's not professionally cared for with knowledge and supplies these kids shouldn't have. Not to mention it looks brand-new. Where are these children getting brand-new pleather?

All of this is also professionally made, using specialized materials. In order to sew thicker materials like leather, you need specialized needles and thread to create normal seams like they have. You can sew leather using normal needles and thread, but it won't look like this unless you know exactly what you're doing and even then, there are ways to tell. These clothes are obviously made by professionals with good supplies, not by a teenager stitching by candle light in her bedroom using a normal needle and normal thread.

Also, let's talk about the dye jobs- there is absolutely no way. These colours could only have been made using actual leatherworking or similar supplies. If these kids were actually making their own clothes, they'd be dyeing this stuff in their bathtub with food colouring or hair dye like normal punks, so the colours would not be anywhere near as vibrant as these. The colour would also probably be patchy and brownish, but these are vibrant and gorgeous, clearly made using actual leatherworking supplies and actual leather dyes rather than the supplies they would actually have access to. Let's compare these clothes to some genuine handmade punk looks, the kind of looks these kids should have.

See these leather jackets? They're all black, which is the easiest colour to dye without professional supplies. The colour on them is usually fabric attachments. The colours of the leather are dull, indicating either age or the fact that they were hand-dyed. Clothes are ill-fitting, torn, obviously secondhand or ancient. Looking at old photos of punk clothing, you'll find most of the looks are like this. Old, worn, handmade, secondhand, faded, ripped- these are the kinds of clothes the Isle kids would probably be wearing.

"Oh, but Evie could-" no she couldn't. I know that Evie is a prodigy, but even a prodigy can't work with what she doesn't have. It doesn't matter how good she is, she would not be able to make professionally-made brand-new clothes. It's also entirely impractical. Why waste all of that effort making professional-looking pleather clothes when she could just save time, work with what she has, and create clothes that are functioning and that can also look pretty good?

The cloth used in the clothes they wear in the movies would not have been available to them. Tights without any runs? Beautifully dyed pleather sewn professionally to fit them? Fake denim? No. And even if this stuff was available, everything they wear is, again, clearly professionally dyed and sewn. They got that from the trash? The trash of a country that hasn't used black clothing in twenty years? Absolutely not.

Disney, let's be realistic here. There is absolutely no way they would have clothes like this and even if there was, it would take an unrealistic amount of effort and supplies for them to produce. Form is important to them, sure, but function and practicality would be far more important. These clothes give them no room to run, jump, duck, fight, parkour, or really move at all. Why would they do that to themselves?

Answer? They wouldn't. Disney just couldn't be bothered to be realistic.

#undescribed #the darkness speaks #descendants

72 notes · View notes

seat-safety-switch · 9 months

Text

Garage sales are one of the great remaining bulwarks of true capitalism. We go through the rest of our lives, enslaved by consumption-demanding megacorporations, chasing pop trends and make-your-life-better gadgets, ruining the lives of ourselves and our neighbours for an increasingly illusory benefit. And then we dump that shit a few years later for $3 each when it clogs up our basement.

I'm not going to lecture you about the virtues of buying cool stuff from garage sales. If you're reading this, you probably already know. Statistics from my new artificial intelligence department (an old Pop-O-Matic® Trouble® dice roller) indicate that one hundred percent of my readers are actually doing so while waiting in line to badger a fellow suburbanite for a 50% discount on a mid-1990s Yashica film camera body.

No, what is important is that we are selling person to person. No corporate artifice in the way. Here, finally, is the capitalism that we were promised by a bunch of shit-eating MBA monsters: you and another person, standing in their garage. Or they're standing in your garage. Fully-depreciated garbage is exchanged for their true value, using the money in your pocket. And if you come back a few hours later, that garbage will probably be out on the curb with a "Free" sign on it. Importantly, no giant company is involved. We don't have to make any new garbage, either.

From each according to their backyard full of worn-out children's toys, to each according to how much room their backyard has. Hey, that sounds familiar. I think some really smart guy wrote about it once in a truck stop bathroom.

So, if you're on the fence about participating in a garage sale: do it. You'll help your fellow person, you'll keep trash out of the landfill, and you might even find a worn-out Haynes manual about a 1978 Volare. If you do so, come on by my garage and try to flip it for a little more money, because my car doesn't run and I can't get out there to the sales myself. Really get into that entrepreneurial spirit, just like Adam Smith would've wanted.

264 notes · View notes

takadokii · 8 months

Text

✴ what the heart wants !! ‧₊.࿐

summary You try to test your luck and have a vulnerable conversation with Satoru. But all he's thinking about is kissing you, and he doesn't understand the concept of crying anyway. pairing high school!gojo satoru x f!reader tags soft fluff, comfort, gojo doesn't know emotions (canon) warnings reader mentions that they cried last night, one nono word word count 810 links collection ; taglist

this is an additional chapter of my series "caught in the middle", if you enjoyed this, consider checking it out! 🩵

"When was the last time you cried?"

The question caught Satoru off-guard. Sometimes, words would leave your mouth that would make him feel so small and stupid. He straightened his back, standing tense and tall. A million thoughts raced through his head about what could have possibly prompted you to ask such a silly question.

Did he look like he cried recently? Are you asking just out of pure curiosity? What made you think about that right now in the first place?

"I cried yesterday when you punched me, remember?"

You punch him again.

"Stop fooling around, you know what I mean...like really cry." You don't look at him when you say this. Trying to get Gojo's mood to match yours was about as easy as getting him to shut up for more than 5 minutes.

But tonight, you felt extra vulnerable for no apparent reason at all.

"I don't remember. It's been a while. I probably haven't cried since I was five."

You hum in acknowledgement, your hand running up the material of the sweater you had worn that night, fingernails brushing against one of the larger loops in your knitted sweater.

And because it's Gojo, of course, this rare, vulnerable sentence must be followed up with a 3-minute monologue with the sole purpose of sucking his own dick.

"I mean... What would I even cry about? I'm pretty. I'm talented. I'm funny and smart. I have no reason to waste my tears. Tears of joy, maybe. Because I was born so pretty and smart and talented and-"

"I cried last night," you interrupted Gojo with a shrug. It was spoken with so little emotion like you were just throwing it out there. A quick, fun little life update as if you were telling him about a new show you started last night.

"...huh?!" Gojo was shocked. He was unable to process this information, as well as unsure what he was supposed to do now. Because, unbeknownst to you, in his eyes, you were just about as talented and intelligent and maybe even a little prettier than him, so this didn't make any sense.

"Why would you ever need to cry? Who made you cry?!" This sentence left his mouth in a way more harsh, belittling and "invalidating your problems" kind of tone than he had intended.

This was Gojo Satoru, after all, of course, the question is who, what else could there be but people that hurt people?

You, knowing he was just a spoiled, confused little child on the inside (and the outside), recognised his intention behind the sentence anyway and answered.

"I don't know...I just wanted to."

"Wanted to?" Gojo was beyond confused. Crying had become a distant concept to him a long time ago. Usually, whenever he felt overwhelmed or hurt, his emotions would skip sadness and instantly transform into annoyance or anger. But for you, it seemed freeing.

For Gojo, crying was a line that mustn't be crossed, a door unopened, its key buried in a drawer in the room he grew up in.

"It's okay to want to cry. Nothing to feel guilty about. The heart knows what it wants."

But for you, crying was something good, letting everything you had carried with you seep out, wipe it away with a tissue and let it dry out, long forgotten in the trash.

You had learned not to let it overflow or push yourself to test how much you can carry. Sometimes, you just felt weak, and everything else felt heavy, and you had accepted that.

Of course, Gojo Satoru wouldn't know what that's like. He had never felt weak in his life, and something inside of you told you that you wouldn't live to see many instances in which he would.

"I felt much better after," you elaborated, seeing him go through the mental turmoil you hoped to ease his mind, "I feel much better now."

Gojo doesn't understand. He understands so little he doesn't even know where he'd begin to attempt to understand.

He's physically distraught by the confusion you had just set aflame in him.

"Well...if you ever cry again, you better not come to me because I am not at all emotionally capable of handling that."

You roll your eyes but grin nonetheless, nudging him with your shoulder before stepping closer and pressing yourself into him. Instinctively, Gojo raises his arm, letting you slip underneath as he places his hand on the sleeve of your sweater.

One of his fingers gets stuck in a loop, his eyes get stuck on your smile, and he tries hard not to kiss you right then and there.

Continuing to stare, a fluttery hot feeling formed in his chest, and he realised just how braver you were than him for giving in to what your heart wanted.

thanks for all the love on my latest one shot! :)

i hope the layout of my collection isn't too confusing, I'm working on making it more manageable and easy to understand!

i've put a lot of heart into this universe, the dynamic and my characters so I'm probably just thinking too far ahead.

i'm very happy i've started this and i can't wait for you all to see what i have in store!

love, jae 🩵

331 notes · View notes

rainylana · 8 days

Text

Random Eddie Headcanons

no warnings, just strictly fluff and some random things that i think are eddie coded! hope everyone is doing okay! just a reminder that my requests are closed, as i’m trying to give myself more of a break! love you all!

• i feel like his room would be like going into an antique shop. he’s got so much shit everywhere, half of it is trash and beer cans, but he’s got so many little trinkets and what he calls “treasures” that he just can’t seem to part with. he’s probably lowkey a hoarder.

• he likes going yard saling just for the sole excuse to rummage through peoples stuff. he likes to pick out a mug to give to wayne, or a random hat to hang up with his collection on the wall. it’s what he spends his pocket change on.

• still has his baby blanket that’s basically worn down to a rag. he’s too afraid to wash it, thinking maybe it’ll get torn to pieces in the washer. he tangles up with it every night and it winds up at his feet by morning.

• would definitely be the type of person to get a smiley face tattooed on the tip of his penis.

• likes old country music just because wayne does. he’s a big fan of john denver and america.

• hasn’t been to the doctor in years. he’s too afraid to go. wayne got him to go a few times when he was a kid for a regular checkup, but by 15 he refused to go so wayne stopped forcing him. he’s deathly afraid of getting shots or that wooden stick that presses on his tongue.

• there’s a trailer next door that has two little girls who like to have tea parties outside. it’s never real tea, just air in their cups that eddie made the mistake of pointing out, but they always ask him to join and he does, sticking up his pinky and making tea party conversation.

• he definitely wakes the trailer park up when he’s coming home in the middle of the night, whether it’s from band practice or a random hook up. his music is on full blast. wayne will burst out the door, cussing and carrying on about turning it down.

• loves the golden girls and gilligans island, definitely scooby doo. probably hates the brady bunch because of the cheesy family dynamic, but loves watching little house on the prairie reruns in the middle of the night.

• prob made his own tattoo gun and tried to tattoo his leg. he failed. and hurt himself in the process.

• he would love greenhouses i think, but he’s always really hot and burning up inside them. he likes to smell all the types of flowers and pluck the petals and rub them between the pads of his fingers.

• trades cassettes with his friends, but will never give up his metallica or black sabbath ones.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson headcanons #random eddie headcanons #eddie munson fluff

102 notes · View notes

kingkatsuki · 3 months

Text

Trying to find condoms in the Abyss is an on-going struggle, especially when you end up being scammed for your last pack of smokes. But it’s okay, because Enjin’s pull out game is strong right. Right?

Why is it never just a drabble when it comes to him😫

Pairing: Enjin x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, thigh fucking, you tell Enjin to pull out (and he’s doing his best), creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, one spank, dirty talk, cum swapping, spit.

Word Count: 3.8k.

“Fuck,” Enjin groaned when he picked up his bag from the floor, holding the worn condom pack between his slender fingers.

You would’ve burst out laughing at the dejected look on his face as he crouched completely stark naked on the floor if it wasn’t for the realisation that yet again he’d purchased a dud fucking condom. Your cunt clenched pathetically around nothing as you became resound to the fact that you weren’t having sex tonight— especially not now.

“I swapped a pack of smokes for this shit,” He grunts, his cock bobbing in the air as he still attempts to pull the dry condom over his bulging head.

Enjin had been elated when he’d finally found a seller in the next town over, having spent way too long hunting for any discarded plastics in the trash heaps outside. Honestly he’d probably have more luck if he tasked Rudo to do the job, although it seemed far more seedy to employ him to do Enjin’s dirty work. Having to explain to him what the condom was even for would be a conversation for another fucking day, and definitely not something you’d ever want to be a part of.

You were certain he’d put his foot on the gas a little harder than normal to try and get you both home as quickly as possible. Making eyes at you through the rear view mirror from where you sat beside Tamzy as he willed the drive to hurry up. His final few fragments of resolve already cashed in when he stopped himself from bending you over in a dingy alley to take you where you stand back in the last town.

You’d barely had time to take your shoes off in Enjin’s room before he was hurriedly tugging all his clothes off, getting his arms and head stuck in his shirt as he tried to shrug it off to the side. Jumping from toe to toe as he kicked off his boxers, revealing his heady cock to your prying eyes as you pulled your own clothes off. His feet still covered with socks as he hunched over his forgotten clothes, unwrapping his prized condom.

Your cunt throbbed at the crude sound of him spitting down on his length in an attempt of makeshift lube as he tried to roll the latex along his girth, head hung low in concentration as he held his cock at the base.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened to either of you. Protection and birth control were a commodity in the Abyss and it meant that the items were hard to come by. Often waiting for the Heavens to throw leftover items down below, or using the homemade methods that had varying effects and levels of reliability. The last time this had happened Enjin hadn’t left you unsatisfied, tonguing your clit until your eyes were rolling back into your skull and your toes were curling.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” Enjin grunted as the condom split over his cock, the swollen pink tip now poked out the top of the latex as he knelt on the floor. Lips curled into a childish pout as this time you couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of you, his poor neglected cock bobbing in the air.

“It’s not funny, baby.” He groaned, “Do you know how long it’s been?” Or how much galla he’d wasted trying to procure these. If he got back to that town and found the guy that sold him the dud condom it was gonna be on fucking sight—

You were fully aware, and so was your neglected cunt that throbbed pitifully. Feeling his mattress dip as he came to settle between your parted legs, warm palms smoothing along your inner thighs as he stared down at your glistening folds. Living at the Cleaners compound made it difficult to get many moments alone, from Riyou sneaking in through your bedroom window at all hours, to Rudo interrupting in the common areas and even Zanka had walked in on the pair of you one too many times. The few messy fumbles in the van outside weren’t enough to keep either of you satiated for long, and the erotic books Semiu recommended you did nothing to help soothe the desire running hot like molten lava through you.

“Do you know how much he misses being inside you?” Enjin dragged the leaking tip of his cock through the mess between your thighs, your hips jolting when the head nudged against your puffy clit, “He wants to feel this pretty pussy wrapped around him— see.”

“You’re such a dork,” You shook your head, scrunching your nose at the way Enjin referred to his cock.

“But you love me for it,” He gave you a toothy grin as he tapped his drooling cockhead against your mound before letting the weight of it hang low as he hovered over you to press a sensual, open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

Enjin’s fingers brushed through your folds, collecting your slick on them as he pushed two inside you. Barely enough to make you feel full as he curled them inside you, prodding at the spongy spot inside you as you rolled your hips into his touch. His thumb teasingly flicking your clit side to side as you leaned into his touch, but it wasn’t enough—

You could feel his cock nudge your thigh, leaving silvery lines of pre against your skin as you raised your knee to press against it. It wasn’t enough, you needed more. Swallowing his moans in your throat as you felt him break the kiss with a grin, reaching down to hold your thighs together as he pushed the tip of his cock between them.

“You’re to pretty like this, you know that?” He hummed as he started fucking your thighs, the underside of his cock brushing against your slick folds with every roll of his hips as he towered over you.

Your hands reach up to mould your tits, pinching and tugging at your stiff nipples as you tried to give yourself some added stimulation. The graze of his shaft against your clit was barely enough to have you close, the pleasure ebbing inside you was becoming far too intense as your poor neglected hole throbbed pathetically around nothing.

“Put it in,” You whined, delirious from pleasure as you tried to shift your hips. Spreading your thighs to give him room to slip his drooling cock inside your wet heat.

“What?” Enjin stopped his thrusts abruptly, unsure he’d heard you right, “What did you say?”

“Fuck me, Enjin. Please.” You pout, trying to coax him inside your unprotected hole, “It’s not enough.”

“That’s too risky, sweetheart. I haven’t got—” Enjin swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he glanced down between your bodies to look at your tight heat. Your desperate hole fluttering around nothing as he thought about the way you felt when he stretched you open, fucking you into the shape of him.

“It’ll be fine.” You brushed his doubts away, shifting your hips as he kept his grip against your thighs, your cunt still angled in the perfect position for him to slide right in—

“You’re not on birth control.” You can tell his control is wavering, the excuses few and far between as you feel the length of his cock pressed firmly between your thighs. Coating himself in your messy slick, it would be so easy to just reach between your thighs to push him inside.

“So you can just pull out.” You deadpan, as though it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

Just pull out. As if it was that fucking easy.

“That ain’t a reliable method of contraception, sweetheart and you know it.” You were frustrated now, huffing at his objections as he sounded like one of the textbooks from Korvus’ study.

“We’ll be fine.” You pressed, wide eyes practically pleading with him as you jut your lower lip out for good measure. You reached between your thighs to press the tips of your fingers against his heavy cock, smoothing the fresh bead of pre that oozed from the tip along the soft head.

“Oh yeah?” Enjin raised a brow, his chest concaving when you teased his cock, “Do you not remember what happened last time?”

The last time you’d had unprotected sex, you’d had a scare that resulted in Enjin searching trash piles for the chance of finding a pregnancy test. The futile search ended with you sat in front of the doctor being told that you weren’t pregnant, a result that Enjin still had to foot the bill for— but the stress and panic that came along with it were priceless.

“We shouldn’t risk it.” He shook his head, spreading your thighs apart, “I’ll still make you cum, baby.”

“Enjin, please,” You were whining now, but you didn’t even care, “Just pull out.”

It was cute that you trusted him enough to be able to pull out once he felt your warm, wet walls wrapped around his cock. Especially without the security and safety of that pesky latex barrier that always got in the way, and pinched around the base of his cock to stop him from feeling every inch of you.

His resolve was crumbling in front of you, and you could tell. Your fingers push down on the fat tip, dragging it through your messy folds as it caught against your tight hole. Gasping in satisfaction from the contact as you curved your hips, trying to angle them to dip him further inside. Your fluttering, unprepped hole practically inviting him in.

Just one slight buck of your hips and he’d practically be inside you. Stealing the air from your lungs when his swollen cockhead finally breaches your tight hole.

The stretch was intense. A high pitched mewl escaping your lips as you felt him begin to stretch you open, your cunt swallowing him as he rut his hips instinctively. Burying more of his length deeper in your pliant walls, eyes focused on the way you sucked him in as he disappeared inside you.

Fuck. Enjin grunts, watching you take him inch by inch as your warmth engulfed him. He’d forgotten how good you felt like this, and this was the exact moment he realised what a terrible idea it was. At this rate he wouldn’t even be able to stop himself as he felt you pulse around him. Tightening his grip on your hips as he released the breath he didn’t even realise he was holding, certain he’d leave bruises in his wake as he stared down at the debauched sight beneath him.

Canting your hips pathetically as you tried to move beneath his harsh grip, doing nothing but pressing the thick tip against the spongy spot inside you as you ground yourself against his cock. At this rate he won’t even last a couple of measley thrusts, so Enjin knows he should pull out— to stop this before it goes any further.

But it had already gone far enough— when your warm hands grab for his shoulders and try to pull his frame down on top of you. The movement only serves to bury his cock even deeper inside your pliant walls as he chokes back a groan, and he starts to wonder why he’s even trying to stop you when the damage is surely already done.

“Oh, fuck. Baby,” He groans as he styles for a moment, cherishing the way your silky walls cling to him with no barriers, no limits.

“Fuck me please, Enjin.” You mewl, “I need it.”

And who is he to deny you?

He’s feral, using the harsh grip on your hips to slam you down on his cock. The rough hairs at the base tickle your clit with each downward motion, your slick mattes into it as you soak his length. Drooling down his balls as you cherish the sensation, trying to remember the last time he felt this good.

“So pretty, baby.” He coos, the shlick pap, pap, pap of his hips against yours fill the dingy room as he fucks into you with urgency. His chest heaves as he feels every inch of you pulse around him, coaxing him in and spurning him on as he sets a brutal pace.

It really has been way too fucking long.

Enjin is certain he’s going insane, delirium takes over as he feels you writhe beneath him. Focused on the way your tits bounce with each rough thrust as a feeble ‘oh’ leaves your lips every time he pushes back inside you, like a record stuck on repeat as he drives forward to pull the sound from you.

“You feel so good, Enjin,” You husk, “So fucking deep.”

Every ounce of restraint has left him now, and his balls are dangerously tight already. Throbbing at the prospect of emptying themselves into your warm, drooling heat. But he’s got to be good, he’s got to show restraint. Everything will be fine, he’ll be able to pull out like this and empty his release onto your stomach.

Enjin is certain there’s nothing in this world or all of the Heavens that feels as good as your warm, wet unprotected cunt feels wrapped around his thick cock. He leans down to pull one of your taut nipples between his teeth, lashing his tongue against it as he begins to suck hard. He feels the way your body responds to him, cunt clenching around his cock as more sinful noises slip past your lips.

“Oh my god,” You cry out, you always were so fucking noisy, positive the rest of the compound would be able to hear you “I’m close already.”

Enjin pushes two fingers inside your mouth in a feeble attempt to silence you, pressing down on the pad of your tongue as you pant hard. Closing your lips around them as you suck against his digits, doing nothing but exasperating the throb in his pelvis as he imagines your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

“Fuck, cum inside me please,” You babble incoherently, drunk on pleasure as the words are muffled by his fingers.

“That ain’t what we agreed.” He practically spits between clenched teeth because how is he supposed to deny you when you sound like that. His cock throbs in agreement with you, and Enjin is certain he’ll have to pull out now before it’s too late. He gives the side of your thigh, just below the swell of your ass a firm spank as you throb around him, “Stop being naughty.”

Enjin’s certain he could do anything to you when you’re like this now. So completely fucked out of your mind, completely intoxicated with arousal. You’d let him cum wherever he pleased without the faintest thought of the dangerous repercussions, burying his cock inside you to kiss your cervix as he douses your pliant walls with his spend. Pulling out to watch it drool from your abused hole before fucking it deeper inside you and filling you again, and again. Until your cunt is stuffed full and drooling with the soppy mixture of your combined releases. Until it all becomes too much and you’re begging for him to stop—

Fuck, he’s got to pull out now or he won’t at all. Enjin’s breath fans your face as he fists the sheets on either side of your head. Leaning his weight off you as he moves his hips back, hissing at the loss of contact.

“Please,” You gasp when you feel him begin to pull out, your thighs tighten around his hips as you lock your ankles behind his ass. Your painted nails dig into his broad shoulders as you cling to him for dear life, even your cunt feels tighter as Enjin chokes back a moan.

“You’re not behaving,” He bites through clenched teeth, hands move to your hips to hold you down in a feeble attempt to make you obey, “You’re being a brat.”

His blunt cockhead brushes your cervix as thick tears clump in your lashes, blinking them back to stare up at him with pleading eyes. Dangerously close to your bliss as you find yourself teetering on the edge of your release.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.” You chant in a dull mantra as your cunt tightens around him, practically trying to milk him of his release as Enjin is positive now your hips will be bruised from how hard he’s gripping to them.

“You said—” He snarls, trying to stop his final string of willpower from snapping.

“I know, I know,” You whine, “But I need it, please.”

How is he supposed to deny you now?

He cants his hips forward, feeling your thighs tighten around him even more as they limit his movement. Barely able to grind against you as the blunt tip of him spears the spongy spot inside you with each rough thrust. He’s losing his mind, he’s certain of it, from how fucked out you look beneath him.

“You need to let go, sweetheart,” He grunts, trying one more time to pull back from your tight cunt, his hands grip your thighs to try to loosen your grip, “I’m fuckin’ close.”

“No!” You tighten your grip in retaliation, shaking your head, “I want it, please—”

You’d sign his death sentence one day, he’s certain of it. Your fingers move down your tummy to rest over your mound as you press sloppy circles into your clit. The tips of your nails catch against the matted hair at his base as he tilts his head to watch your debauched movements, feeling the way you begin to clamp down around him when he knows you’re about to cum.

"Enjin, I'm gonna— I'm cumming,” And you do— you cum hard.

And then he fucking loses it.

“Fuckin’ shit—” Enjin’s hips buck wildly as the last bit of resolve he’s been clinging to crumbles to nothing, “You little minx.”

As soon as he feels your walls begin to clamp down around him, he’s a goner. Eyes roll back into his skull as he spills thick white ropes of cum deep inside your unprotected cunt. His hips buck wildly as he’s lost to the pleasure, your walls eagerly milking him of all he’s got to give as he fucks his spend deeper inside you. Inside your ripe, fertile womb.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, shit.” He snarls, blunt painted nails dig into your hips as he holds you steady, emptying his balls inside you as he coats your insides. Leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your pouty lips as he gives you every last drop, so much that it leaks down his shaft and balls and onto the sheets beneath you.

“This is your fault.” He groans as your thighs finally go lax, allowing him to slip his softening cock from your pulsing walls as he looks down between your thighs at the mess you made. He refuses to blame himself for this, especially when it’s all your fault.

It’s obscene. The way his cum drools out of your abused hole and trickles down towards your ass, pooling on the sheets between your legs as Enjin wonders how that’s all his. It can’t be, some of it has got to be you too. The creamy rings around the base of his cock evidence of your arousal as he leans down closer to spread your folds open with his thumbs. Watching intently as your stretched hole continues to pulse around nothing as it pushes more of his seed out.

“Enjin, don’t.” Your hips jerk when he presses two slender digits inside your entrance, shamelessly fucking his cum back inside you with his fingers as he scoops some up that drooled down towards your asshole. Next time he’d fuck you there so he doesn’t have to worry about you being all round and plump with his child— not that that would even be the worse thing in the world, he ponders. His spent cock already stirs to life at the thought, half hard and throbbing at the prospect as he settles himself lower. Wrapping his arms around your upper thighs as he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your puffy clit.

“Fuck, I’m too sensitive.” You whine as he tongues your slit, following the trail of your release as he prods it inside your worn hole. Pushing it inside you to scoop out the globs of his release as he sucks it into his mouth, nose bumping your clit as your fingers immediately thread through his messy blond hair.

There’s just so much, he’s definitely going to have to take you to the Doctors the next morning he thinks. Nudging your clit with his nose as he adds a solo finger to join his tongue, scooping as much of his seed from your quivering hole as he can while he works you towards another climax.

“Enjin,” You cry out in bliss, toes curling as you gush around him. Trying to blink back the white spots that cloud your vision as he presses a few more sloppy kisses to your overstimulated sex, thankful that he’s managed to get most of his spend from your weeping hole although he’s certain it’s not enough.

Moving up your body to grip your jaw between his thumb and forefinger as he forces your mouth open, puckering his lips as he spits a mixture of spit and your combined release onto your tongue. Feeling the depraved mixture hit the back of your throat as you swallow it eagerly, tasting him on your tongue as desire begins to swirl in your abdomen once more. Noticing his cock is still half-hard and glistening with your slick as you reach down to wrap your palm around him, but Enjin’s reflexes are quicker as he catches your wrist in one hand.

“Don’t you dare,” He groans, “You’ve already got us into this much of a mess. We’re going to have to go to the Doctors first thing.”

“So,” You practically sing as Enjin flops down onto the worn mattress beside you with a huff, already knowing exactly where this is going, “If we have to go anyway, we might as well make the most of it.”

You’re already shifting beside him to swing your thigh over his hips to settle on top of him with a smug grin. His cock nestled below your warm heat as you drag yourself along the length of him, “Think about the money you’ll save on condoms.”

Yeah, and all the galla wasted on emergency contraception, Enjin groans internally.

Although his thoughts are swiftly forgotten the moment you wrap your hand around the base of him to sink yourself down on him inch by inch. Suddenly he’s not so angry that he got sold a dud condom, not when he feels the way your silky walls cling to every inch of him as you hit the base.

Yeah, it was worth it.

#enjin x reader #Enjin smut #gachiakuta x reader #Gachiakuta smut

105 notes · View notes

factual-fantasy · 8 months

Text

(post in question) @elegysonnet

Thank you! None of my ideas are really solid yet.. but I can explain the reasoning behind their designs and tell you a bit of the back stories that I've got so far! :}} (prepare for a WALL of text-YOU ASKED FOR IT--)

First, Jevil. I pictured my Jevil being locked away in a cell for many many years. Like I think canon Jevil was. The wear and tear you see on his clothes is just wear that developed overtime from being in that cell. I might update his old outfit later.. but so far the torn gloves, missing bell and worn shoe are from the years of being locked away. Now eventually he is able to break out of his cell and escape into the multiverse. I'm not sure how, but thinking its gonna have to do with mirrors. He probably wanted to go back to his AU, but if he did he'd just wind up right back in that cell. So he.. left. And just kind'a roams the multiverse now, looking for a new home I guess.

Now during his travels he was able to find bits of clothing to replace/repair his old outfit. Replacing his shirt, finding a new cape, cutting out a corner to patch his new shirt- Finding a cheap Christmas bell to replace his old one. Using standard bandages to patch his shoe- cutting a square out of the overalls to fit his tail and patch his torn hat- <XDD stuff like that.

Now turning to Grillby.. My Grillby's AU was suddenly destroyed. And Jevil saved him from being destroyed along with it. But Grillby isn't exactly grateful.. rather he's overcome with grief over the loss of his world and family, and is actually angry with Jevil for having saved him. He would have rather just been extinguished along side his wife and daughter..

Because of this emotional turmoil, Grillby tuned blue and stayed blue. (See this post for my Grillby color headcanons-) I drew him in his bartender outfit but that wont stick. He ends up wearing what ever trash clothes he can find. His uniform is the last existing thing from his AU. And he dare not let his emotional instability burn it up. So he keeps it folded up neatly in his backpack and just tosses the backpack aside when he gets upset enough to start burning things uncontrollably..

Now for the creepy one, Spamton! He comes from an AU where things function a bit differently then our usual Deltarune. One of the big differences is the acid in the queens castle is blue instead of green. And yes! I did go with the acid lake theory :00-- but instead shrinking when falling into the acid.. my Spamton just kind'a.. fell apart. Its like the structural integrity of his body just collapsed. He kind'a got Gastered- The outer layer of his face and hands got so dry that huge splits formed all over his face and knuckles. His teeth got stuck together and became one big glob of hard mass. His hair melted together, his pants and shirt became part of him.. Its pretty yucky. He was in so much pain and he didn't know what to do.. Well, that's when Jevil showed up.

I'm thinking that taking Spamton outside of his AU didn't eliminate his pain.. rather.. being away from his world effected his body and.. changed his pain. Changed how it hurts or where it hurts. In a way, Spamton is in "less pain" when he's outside of his AU, because the pain is different and more.. tolerable..? Somewhat.?? So he chose to leave his AU and stay with Jevil. Its not like he was leaving anything behind.. the people in his AU treated him horribly. As they traveled, they got a cloak and some goggles/glasses for him. Spamton also struggled with motor function in his hands. like Gaster.. So Jevil wrapped them in bandages to keep them together and help them move more coherently.

Also Grillby kind'a envy's Spamton for having an AU to freely return to. And thinks that despite the pain and struggles, he should return. He still has the opportunity to make a life for himself there. But you cant really blame Spamton for following the only person who has ever shown him kindness and changed his blinding pain into something else..

Then there's Goner kid. I'm thinking that she is from an AU where she fell into the core perhaps? But she's not a part of Gaster. She doesn't have anything that ties herself to him. She's just, out there. All alone..

Jevil finds her and feels sorry for her.. so he helps her to get back to her AU. Only to discover that another version of her already exists and took her place. In order to bring her back to her world, you would have to destroy her other self.. But her other self is a person too.. someone who can love, who can think, its a person. Jevil wont kill her and Goner kid doesn't want him too. But she's still heart broken.

Her entire identity was stolen. She has nothing left to her name.. not ever her name. Its not hers anymore. So to cheer her up Jevil gives her a new name. One completely unique to her. Goner kid smiles, and decides to follow Jevil where ever he goes. She cant have her old life or name back, but she can live a new life, with her new name and new best friend. (I might reveal that name in a future comic👀👀)

Eventually during their travels they come across an AU where Alphys made robot arms for Monster Kid. Now MK is like a teenager in this AU so he doesn't need the other arm models that Alphys built for him. So she simply gives a pair of little arms to Goner kid! The pink bow was also a gift from Jevil so there's that XD-

Now River person.. I haven't really been able to flesh her out too much actually. But I'm thinking that River person is in a similar situation to Goner kid and Grillby. She cant go back to her AU for some reason and is heart broken. Maybe it was destroyed like Grillby's was? I imagine that she's not mad at Jevil for saving her though. And I don't think she'd be grieving her life like Grillby is. More of.. she's grieving for.. everyone else's life?? She would take people on trips down the river and hear about their life and stories. Their hopes and dreams.. Hear about what the children wanted to be when they grew up. Only to have all that snuffed out. Gone. Yet she remains? Why her? She feels that compared to the others from her world.. She was simple. Was of less value then those that she spoke to. She feels like someone, anyone should have been saved in her place. Maybe survivors guilt would be a good way to put it?

But she's not angry with Jevil for saving her. Just.. hollow. Conflicted.. appreciative..? But still conflicted-

ANYWAYS, wall of text over XDD I hope you enjoyed reading all of that and I answered all of your burning questions. :}} Feel free to send more!

#my response #deltarune #undertale #jevil #spamton #grillby #goner kid #river person

234 notes · View notes

onethattwaddles · 2 months

Text

[Queen of Tears Ep 07]

Finally, someone trashed the old and overused annoying "I realized I still love you." (Park Ji-eun-nim thank you very much!)

Hyun-woo is metaphoring how he feels for her to their lock in Germany.

All along, Hyun-woo thought he fell out of love. That somewhere along the way in their marriage, that spark they had got lost, like how they couldn't find the lock at first. But now that he was here, he understood that it was still there. He just had to take a step back and dig a little deeper. And he found it. A little worn out, but it was there, still holding on. Just buried underneath many other emotions.

So now I wonder what was running through Hae-In's mind during that time. She was probably infuriated, wanting to yell, scream, hit him... but then here he was, admitting that even after all he'd thought, said, and done, he found that she was still there. In his heart. And she knows it's the truth.

She wasn't angry. She was upset. She was disappointed he even thought of doing that. So she gave up. That's why it angered him. He broke her and made her cry. When all he wants now is to stay by her side forever.

Love can wear out the same things do. But after all, aren’t the worn-out things the most beautiful?

#queen of tears #눈물의 여왕 #涙の女王 #kim jiwon #kim soohyun #baek hyun woo #hong hae in #김지원 #김수현 #김수맨 #kdrama #kdrama review #drama review

91 notes · View notes

formulafootball66 · 1 year

Text

Promoting

a/n: hello! this is my very first fic! criteria is welcome, but please be nice! pairing: neymar x reader warnings: language and slightly mature at the end. word count: 1100 enjoy!

I really don’t want to be here.

But I had no other choice, my work forced me to be here. Due to the success of my movie in Brazil, I had to go for some kind of event. Of course, where there are events there are after parties, and where there are parties there are potential connections. I’m here for that last purpose.

I’m not doing a good job. I have only spoken to the bartender yet, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t recognize me. The drink sure did help with the mood.

There is nothing wrong with this party, the lights are maybe a bit too bright, but still. The purple lightning made it impossible to even see your drink. One thing you were able to notice, is the smell. It smells so horrible. Sweaty bodies, strong alcohol and awful food.

The worst part of this place? I don’t speak a word Portuguese and I have zero friends here. So I do what a girl has to do: get another drink.

While walking to the bar, I make sure to check the floor. God forbid that slip over some trash and someone takes a picture of it. So I make sure to focus and dodge all of it.

I was a little bit too focused on not slipping, cause I crashed into someone. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” I say embarrassed and I look up. In front of me stands the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

And, oh my God, now I recognize him. Shit. I just bumped into Neymar Jr. The Neymar Jr. The man who was is magazine every week, either with a hot a photoshoot or a rumor that he’s dating a new girl.

“Sem problemas, lindihna,” he says and his voice is just as attractive as himself. I don’t know what the last thing he said means, but I’m pretty sure that he said that it’s not a problem.

“Uh, sorry again!” I mutter, because, man, I want to get away from this awkward conversation. I walk away, but he grabs my arm. “What’s your name again, beautiful?”

“I’m Y/N. And you are Neymar.” I say, lowkey flabbergasted. Hello? He wanted to know my name? He called me beautiful? Neymar has still a hold on my arm. I see that he notices too, because he let’s go of me. Instead he grabs my hand, leads me to the dancefloor area again.

He pulls me closer, hands that have snuck on my hips. His face gets closer. I can feel his hot breath on my skin. His eyes are gleaming mischievous. I feel my heart pounding in my chest. How many times in your life do you get a chance to be so close with an insanely hot man?

“Yeah, are you a fan?” He whispers in my ear, sending shivers over my body. Oh god, what was he doing to me? I only met him like 2 minutes ago.

While my mind wanders, my body knows exactly what I want. I feel hot everywhere. It’s probably a combination of the busy crowd and his body close to mine.

“Kind of. At home we watch a lot football. I think I saw you play a couple of times.” I’m really trying my hardest not to make this awkward. I must admit, I don’t really know Neymar as a player, nor as a person, obviously.

Meanwhile his arms lay loosely around my waist. His right hand creeping down a little.

He chuckles. “So, what brought you here in such short skirt You’re on a mission?”

I blush and look down. I really should’ve worn something else. Now he probably thinks I’m just some easy girl. Then again, I try to gaslight myself into thinking that I don’t care what Neymar thinks or says about me.

“No, definitely not. I had a movie come out. I’m here from promotion, but it’s not really working.” I don’t mention that I’m too scared to talk to people and that I should actually get that third drink.

“Ah, an actress.”

“Yeah, something wrong with that?” I ask kind of defensive.

“The opposite actually.” He says flashing a cocky smirk.

A new songs comes up and it’s some song of the Weeknd. He begins to sway me around. Holy shit. He wants to dance. I’m not a particularly bad dancer, but it’s definitely not one of my talents. But the way he moves, the pure confidence in all what he does, makes me lose it to rhythm too.

“You know, I think I can solve your promotion problems,” he says seductively. His hazel brown eyes looking in mine and locking contact.

I was intrigued, because everything was better than what I was doing. “Oh yeah? Please, tell me.” I say, without breaking the eye contact.

“I can’t tell you, only show you.”

“Show me then.” I say with sudden confidence. His hands lift your chin and his thumb runs over your bottom lip. His other hand cups my jaw and he finally breaks the eye contact to look at my lips. He looks me in the eyes again to asks for permission, maybe? I nod and it happened all in a flash.

And all of sudden his lips are touching mine. I do not kiss back immediately, out of pure shock. The kiss, that was gentle at first, was getting more intense, he kissed me harder. He also gave my ass a little squeeze. That made me gasp and therefore he had the chance to slip his tongue into my mouth.

He tastes like expensive alcohol and there is a slight taste of spear mints on his tongue. While our kiss was getting deeper and more passionate, I let out a slight moan and grab his hair. It seems to have done something to him too, because now he groans into the kiss. He grabs my ass and pulls me closer to him than I already was. I can now feel him. Every part of him.

In the heat of the moment I move my hips slowly, earning another groan from him. He breaks the kiss. “Don’t do that here. Save that for later.” These words make me do it again. And now move hips in a way he can definitely feel it. I do too. In that short moment, I can feel his hard-on. Oh god, is he just as turned on as I am?

Our lips connect again and all of sudden I see flashes around us. Shit, the paparazzi. Neymar doesn’t break the kiss though. That happens a minute later. He let’s go off of my jaw and he brings his mouth close to my ear.

“I’m sure you will make the front page now, bêbe.”

#neymar #neymar jr #neymar fanfic #first fanfic ever omg #neymar smut #neymar jr smut #neymar fluff #neymar jr fluff #football fanfic #wc

674 notes · View notes