#under the box elder

[jamesunderwater]

on being unfiltered once more

it's interesting how pre-surgery charles did a lot of social mirroring, and how much that's changed... before, if i got an ask, i'd work hard to reply the way i saw other people reply to things, or based on what vibe i thought the sender would want.

but then the first several weeks after surgery, i literally didn't have the energy to filter or monitor how i interacted with others, so instead I was just fully my chaotic, long-winded, rambling self. and at first i was too exhausted and drugged to even notice let alone care. but then even when i did start to see it, i still couldn't find the energy or even the ability to communicate differently.

now i'm at the point where i'm trying to go back to the mirroring and filtering, but it's like my brain lost the ability to actually do it -- so it remembers that we're supposed to, and can tell what i'm doing "wrong" or need to "fix" in my communication, but when i try to actually express myself in the way i think is more appropriate/desired in the interaction, my brain fritzes. HARD. and that's how i've ended up spending TWO hours at work trying to send one simple email, and taking an hour to reply to a text, etc. so that by the end of the day my brain is so fucking tired from agonizing over every single word i wrote all day, i am almost unable to write a full sentence.

and maybe in another post i'll go into how this is, in essence, exactly what it looks like for a high masking autistic to no longer be able to mask (due to continuous overstimulation/burnout, in this case).

but right now i just wanted to say all of that to say.... i didn't know that i liked the choatic, rambling, long-winded way i like to write and speak. i just knew i had been taught other people don't like it. and i am really kind of enjoying the way that -- at least sometimes, at least here -- i have been liberated from giving so much of a shit.

before all this, i knew in concept that everyone has their own way of communicating, especially writing, and some people will like it and some people won't. i even thought it was really badass when someone communicated very differently than the norm, and didn't seem sorry about it. but, of course, none of this sunk in enough to change my unconscious chameleon training to become whatever kind of communicator people wanted me to be.

but NOW... i've gotten a taste of it. a taste of responding as ME and believing that it's okay if the other person doesn't like how i talk/interact. also helps that my "mirroring skills" are like, comparable to Light Hope in she-ra when her programming was wiped. Which is to say, so low as to be basically useless.

and so thus we witness the return of teenage Charles, who, once comfortable, is not totally dissimilar in energy and vibe to characters like jake peralta, robin buckley, jaskier, shawn spencer from psych... lol NONE of whom are autistic-coded... /j

and yeah. hopefully this becomes a space where i feel safe to practice being unmasked me. so far so good, anyway. and, uh, if you think i'm horribly annoying now.......... i probably already believe that's how you see me, too, so maybe we can both practice not giving a shit either way? 😅

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

[maco-sims]

Transtape overlay for your transmasc sims

More photos and download under the cut

I've been playing with trans sims for a while, there was a few nice binders, but as someone who likes to tape in the summer i've wanted to make transtape for my sims for over a year. I finally was able to make an overlay box so here we are :)

Here they are in all their glory

A few notes on them

They work for teens and up

I made the female one to go with the androgyny bodyshape, i haven't tested it on other bodyshapes

They match my current default skins, here's how it looks without my defaults

On elders it looks a bit wonky under the armpits

It goes on top of everything, including the werewolf overlay, it would be weird if hair grew on top of the tape (imagine having to take the tape off with all of that hair.... ouch)

This is my first time sharing any kind of thing i made so please tell me if it has any issues!

Download it here

Compressorized, recolor file included

Credits:

@deedee-sims for the original overlay box

@platinumaspiration for the overlay box tutorial, seriously thanks, i was completelly lost before i watched it

[2kmps]

BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel. 

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into. 

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car. 

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat. 

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps. 

And then, there was silence. 

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”  

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather. 

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins. 

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim. 

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded. 

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.” 

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders. 

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others. 

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?” 

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut. 

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead. 

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”  

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said. 

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them. 

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

[yuan4i]

01. what did i walk in on?

“hey, pretty boy…i’d like 2 more shots of pink whitey and then i’ll close my tab.” you mumbled to the bartender. your eyes were teary and wet, eyes glistening under the light at the bar table. “you sure? you look pretty drunk, miss…” the bartender asked you with a worried expression. “what do you mean! i’m the soberest person here at this very moment!" you exclaimed. “alright alright, whatever you say… your total comes to 300 primos. shall i put that on your card?” “... yeah sure, whatever. see you next time, pretty boy.” 

you stumbled out of the bar, walking to the dormitory of your school thinking about the money you’ve spent on drinks. 300 primos? all you drank was a glass of raspberry vodka, pineapple tequila and 3 shots of pink whitey… you didn’t want to return to your dorm, you didn’t want your roommate, lumine, to be concerned and ask why you were drinking so much again. you didn’t want to tell her about your argument with your boyfriend nor did you want her to worry so much about you. instead, you made your way to your friend, lynette’s dorm room. 

soon enough, you arrived at the dorm building and went up the stairs to lynette’s room. you knocked on her door, hoping she’d be awake this late during a school night. “please please please open the door-” “uh, hi? i’m sorry but, do i know you?” a person with short ash blonde hair that looks similar to your friend, lynette, opens the door. tears welled in your eyes again as you looked away from the man. “oh… hi, sorry to disturb you but is lynette here?” you asked him, trying your best not to cry in front of a guy you just met. “i’m sorry but no… she went out for a quick errand.” he replied, sympathetically. “ah… okay. could you please tell her to call me once she comes back? sorry again for bothering you at such a late time at night.” 

you turn around with tears starting to dribble down your eyes until- “wait! don’t go yet. here, come in. you can stay here and wait for her if you’d like.” stay and wait for her? you were willing to do that but you didn’t want to bother a stranger you just met, especially on a school night. “i’m lyney… lynette’s older brother. please, come in.” your ears perked up. lynette has an elder brother? you’ve known her for at least 3 years and she has never mentioned a single word about her brother… or her family. “thank you…” 

now you’re crying on their couch, with lyney sitting beside you. “if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” he asked you, trying his best to comfort you. you looked over to him, frowning. “oh! uh, i mean- if you don’t want to tell me then you obviously don’t need to! it’s just that i can’t have someone with a pretty face like yours crying!” he nervously rambled out. your face flushed at his words, “really…?” “yes, of course!” after that, you gave in. 

“my boyfriend and i had an argument…i expressed to him how i didn’t like how he acts towards me and other people when he’s upset.” you began.  “i told him that i didn’t like how he takes his anger out on others, including me… then he proceeded to call me annoying and needy! i was so upset to the point where i immediately retorted and called him so not so nice stuff. it ended with him walking out my dorm… i never intended on having a huge argument with him!” now you were crying even more than before, trying your hardest to wipe away all your tears. 

“oh my dear… you’re quite in a pickle! i’m sorry you're going through that. but may i ask if he still brings you joy? do you feel like you have to walk on eggshells around him just to not make him mad or upset? partners should be able to communicate with each other. he shouldn’t be getting pissed at you communicating with him how you feel. he should listen and talk it out with you to find a solution. if he isn’t willing to listen without getting angry how are you gonna discuss anything else?” lyney said, opening a new box of tissues. 

“sometimes people have their own things to sort out before they are ready to date and it sounds like he isn’t ready to be dedicated to someone else if he lets his anger out on you or gets mad when you try and tell him what he does wrong.” he pulls out a tissue from the box and wiped your eyes. “i’ll brew you some tea, though i doubt it’ll be as good as what lynette would make! feel free to rest on the couch, i'll be with you shortly.” 

ANGEL EYES ✿ prev ❀ masterlist ❀ next

lyney x reader SYNOPSIS you’re at a bar, drinking your heart out after another having a feud with your boyfriend of 2 years. you later stop at your friend’s house to stay the night but… the one who opens the door isn’t her but instead, her brother…?

notes : dudeee i'm soso sorry that the first chapter was written so long :c i know this is a smau but i just HAD to write this chapter for it to make sense... lmk if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes!

[yourstrulybluelover]

Midnight Rendezvous

Title: Midnight Rendezvous

Pairings: Lo’ak (25) x Navi Reader (24)

Warnings: MDNI

Contains: sexual tension, forced, dom Lo’ak, fingering, p in v

It's been 3 months since you’ve joined the Na’vi tribe. All possible thanks to Norm and the other scientists once they completed your avatar. You were now one of the people, one with nature, one with Pandora. The challenges and adventures that come every passing day brought purpose to your once useless life. Similar to Jake, your human body was mangled, restricting movement in your right arm and leg, all due to a reckless night on Earth. However, your scientific background was notably impressive, so once you were accepted into the Avatar program you decided to live a life with no regrets.

You fell in love with your slim avatar’s body. Once you were part of the tribe they stripped you of your human like clothing and adorned your body with beautifully woven pieces with crystal like beadings that were enough to cover you but not enough to hide fully hide your heavy chest and curvy hips. You thought you gotten used to clothing till the Sully brothers stopped in to check on you. You suddenly felt the urge to cover your chest and sit on the ground preventing them from seeing what they were more than accustomed to seeing with the other members of the tribe. You allowed your long black braided hair to cascade over your bosom once they entered your cot, still sitting on the ground you beckoned them into your new home.

They were one of the best trainers, without them you would not have made it through the ordeal of becoming Na’vi. Neteyam would spend hours after Eclipse teaching you the uses and strategies of weapons while Lo’ak was responsible for you becoming one of the best hunters. The time spent with them was memorable, they helped you with obtaining samples for the lab, while you taught them more about the human world. The more time spent with the brothers the more you realized why every female Na’vi was fascinated with them.

“Hey y/n, looking good, blue suits you.” Neteyam chuckled.

His words knock you out of your trance as you flashed a smile towards him. He has always been kind and gentle towards you. Despite his kindness, you found yourself more drawn to his younger brother who  

“Thanks Nete, what are the plans for tonight?” you winked “got some other girl to tend to?”

“Nah, we’re going to a party, you should come.” He replied , flashing a mischievous grin.

You decided to embrace the new found life and take on your adventurous and outgoing side. The brothers did mention that the elders had no idea about these bonfire parties. You figured it would be the best approach to grove in with Na’vi’s your age. Mustering up one breath of courage you sprung up from your hammock and began to began to dress, wiping with a wash cloth and adorning your body with another beaded top and more revealing loincloth you head out the door. Making your way through the forest was not as difficult as you anticipated. Your feet thread onto the soft grass. You stopped momentarily. Was that music? You persisted pass the vines and lianas, peering through the gaps.

You gasped. In the middle of a clearing surrounded by trees draped with bioluminescent flowers and vines were Metkayina youth, naked. The bonfire in the middle provided sufficient light to see, but dim enough to still foster privacy. The music came from an old radio box Norm gave the clan, the ground covered with what appeared to be wooled blankets. Na’vi men were on the floor, on top of them were women, their bodies intertwined. In their hands appeared to be chalices , more than likely containing fermented fruit strong enough to make one fall under the alcoholic influence. On the other side were more Na’vi men and women chatting, undressing, laughing and even a few were moaning. The sight had you both dumbfounded but also awakened your inquisitive side. The mess of bodies were enough to turn you on as your eyes took in the rhythms and sounds of pleasure escaping the group.

“Looks fun doesn’t it?”

Your breath hitched. Caught off guard you stumbled, your back hitting into a familiar chest.

“Lo-ak, you startled me.”

“Didn’t think you’d come.” He said his voice low.

“Didn’t realize it was that kind of party.” You laughed nervously, your face barely visible with the flickers of the flame’s shadow dancing across your body every so slightly. You were too busy feeling embarrassed to notice the stares of the youngest Sully brother on you.

“Ah y/n you’re here.” Neteyam called out as he walked towards the duo.

You reached out to punch him in the shoulder. “You skwang!’ you yelled, “you tricked me.”

“Nah y/n I’m trying to hook you up, my bro Azal asked me to invite you.”

“You could have given me a heads up that I’d be at a sex party.” You hissed. “Since when was Azal even interested in me?”

“You don’t have to partake, it’s a place where we can be free. You could just watch y/n,but if you’re not comfortable I can follow you home. Azal always had eyes for you y/n, you know he is one of the bulkier ones, a really excellent hunter.”

“Not interested Nete he is too cocky for me, and it’s fine, I’ll just dine and enjoy the show.” You sighed nonchalantly.

Taken aback at your openness and willingness Neteyam smirked. “Alright! Right this way Just at least greet Azal!” his arm on your upper back he guided you through the curtain of vines. You peered over your shoulder to see Lo’ak following, his gaze dark and jaw clenched.

“Fineee”

The party was intense in particular sections and more relaxed in others, the point was that everyone and everything was in view. There was a make shift area where homemade fruit wine was served, it reminded you of a human bar. Aside from the jazz like music and sinful moans filling your ears were the boring stories of Azal and his hunting streak. A mere attempt to impress you with his self-absorbed stories. Your eyes scanned the area to only lock eyes with Lo’ak, a particular female Na’vi kissing his neck while he sipped on his drink. You quickly averted your eyes to see Neteyam deep in conversation with a group of female Na’vis, a seductive grin plastered across his face. You huffed when Azal finally left you to get you another beverage, taking this as your chance you scurried off to the end permitter of the party, the moans were getting louder as more Na’vis began to partake. You took one last peak in an effort to catch the last glimpse of Lo’ak when you felt a heavy palm on your hip.

“Where you going y/n?”

“Lo’ak you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me.” You turn around to see his braids towering his face, his eyes hooded, lips agape. Something about his expression was intense, almost intoxicating. His palm remained on your hip,the other hand reaching out to remove a twig from your hair.You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension.

“I’m tired Lo, think I’ve seen enough.” You said almost bitterly with the image of Lo’ak with the other female Na’vi.

“I haven’t.” He whispered, as he lowered his mouth to graze the top of your ear. You felt a sudden knot in your stomach, as a familiar wetness grew between your legs. Lo’ak trailed his fingers to the straps of your beaded top, slipping it off one of your shoulders.

“Lo-“

“I know you want this just  as badly as me.” His face mere inches away from yours as his hand rubs your arm soothingly. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.”

The moans in the group grew louder and suddenly you wish he would be the cause of the sinful moans escaping your lips. Your silence makes him step back. In one swift moment, you grab his arm pulling him towards you as you crash your lips onto his.

Lo’ak grabbed the back of your neck, as his mouth dominates yours, he pushes your back towards the bark of a tree. Your breathing is uneven as you fumble to remove your beaded clothing and his loincloth. Your eagerness catches him off guard as you stood before him clearly deprived of sexual pleasures. With one rapid motion, he picks you up with one arm, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, his hardened member pressing on you. You gasped as you looked down.

You’ve never seen anything bigger, you were no stranger to human sex, but Na’vi sex was definitely outside your area of expertise. His mouth began to plant kisses on your neck, you threw your head back as you succumbed to the desire. Your hands moving to grope your nipples, and you roll them between your fingers. The horny mess before him only turned him on more.

“Dam mama,you don’t even know how bad I been wanting this.”

You moaned as you feel his fingers enter your pulsating hole, dripping as you feel him scissors his fingers to stretch you out. You begin to wine on his fingers, drowning in pleasure, your moans grow louder. His mouth finds yours again as he tongue fucks your mouth. He picks up the pace expertly moving in an up and forward motion. You clench his large digits as you fought your way into his mouth, pulling him more into you. He pulls away, his eyes pouring with lust as you arch your back, exposing your supple breasts. His fingers move faster and harder, within seconds your juices were spraying as you screamed his name, unaware that nearby fiesta heard.

“I want you in me now.” You pleaded drool running down your mouth, your eyes heavy. Your hands reach to pumphis  hard cock.

“Music to my ears y/n.” He groaned, “bend over for me.”

You willingly obliged by turning to face the tree, bent over, head bracing the bark, you reached behind to pull apart your ass cheeks to revel your gaping holes. “Fuck me Lo.” You cried, your voice barely audible as the party ensued.

He gasped, his palm reaching to smack your ass. Without warning you feel his mushroom tip press on your opening you move one hand to the tree for support the other finding your clit. As he pushed past your entrance you feel him stretch you to capacity, your eyes widen at the feeling almost like you were about to split in half. You turned back to face him, his expression darker as he fully plunges into you. You scream from the sudden pain and pleasure.

“Take this cock in that tight hole. “He reaches forward to grab your breast as he paced.

You gasp at his size, your moans getting louder as the pain is replaced with intense pleasure.

=“YYeeessss Lo’akkk just like that, fill meee uuupp.” Meeting his rhythm you bounced back onto his cock while rubbing your cloth, your eyes shut tight as you tried to focus over the horny mess before you. You looked up to see Neteyam among the other naked bodies, his dick being sucked by a female Na’vi as he fingers her. Your attention suddenly averted to Lo’ak who begins to pick up the pace slamming harder and harder as you squelch. Dirty monas escape your pretty lips, your eyes ertun to the party to find Neteyam now staring. You gulp.

Can he hear me? CAN HE SEE ME? You thought to yourself but suddenly find your self on your back against the forest floor. Lo’ak towering you. He renters you throwing your ankles over his shoulder.

“I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum.”

You held his stare as you reach to pull your legs towards you, revealing yourself more to him. You feel his boner growing harder inside of you. He picks up the pace, now slapping your clit. You hum in pleasure. You look down to see the bulge move in your stomach, he rubs your clit faster hitting upwards to find your sweet spot. The familiar feeling began to build soon your back arched as you begged him to fuck you senseless, to fill your lustful desires, to appease your cravings.

“Cum for me y/n.”

“Im gonna cummm.” You eyes water, mouth agape as you reach you high, causing you to convulse spewing your jucies once more. You scream your nails digging into his forearms as you become undone before him, he pulls out within three strokes spilling his hot seed on your face. Your smile suddenly vanishes when you realize in the near distance Neteyam's silhouette grows closer.

 “My turn brother.”

[nyasstars]

“who’s chan?”

your first love is one you remember forever. unfortunately, so is the heartbreak.

a/n : angst, because it’s all i’m good at.

“who’s chan?” your roommate asked as she pulled a box from under your bed. she’d been helping you organize your room, God knows you needed it.

she slid the box onto the bed where you were sitting, folding clothes.

it was a shoebox, littered with butterfly stickers and wolf stickers. the top of the box spelled “CHAN <3” in bold, bright colors you’d painted onto it using acrylic paint.

your breath instantly hitched as the lump in your throat started to form. hesitantly, you reached out and slowly uncovered the box. it was filled, nearly to the brim, with pictures of you and chan, as well as movie tickets, notes you passed to each other in class, and,, the letter.

the letter he wrote you to tell you he was moving back to korea. that he was leaving you. you remembered being angry. angry that he was too much of a coward to tell you to your face. but also angry that he was leaving you in the first place.

of course, within the letter, he offered to take you with him. and as willing as you were to drop everything in your life and go with him, you were just silly little kids.

or that’s what everyone told you.

your parents, his parents, teachers, family members. they all told you that you were just silly little kids. that you didn’t know what you wanted or how you truly felt about each other.

but you knew. you knew that you would have (and still would) follow him to the ends of the earth. that nobody ever knew you the way he did. hell, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

he knew when you were distraught or angry. he knew how to calm your nerves and how to handle your emotions. especially because you couldn’t.

but you believed them. you were both young and didn’t know any better. they were your elders so they knew best…

right?

you listened to them and believed that you would find someone else on this planet that knew you the way he did. that cared about you the way he did. that was your better half.

even though it tore you to pieces inside, you wished him well. you supported him on his endeavors and wanted nothing but the best for him. but it didn’t take long at all to realize that you would never find someone like him. you let him go, believing that in time, he would just be a spectacle in your past.

and that was something you would never forgive yourself for.

“hello? what’s wrong?” your roommate’s voice tore you from your thoughts, bringing you back down to earth.

you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“chan was.. is my first love”

[hp-hcs]

(he/him pronouns) would you be interested in writing a more dominant darling/a darling who's a top? i see so often where darlings are bottoms or submissive, but i think it be so interesting to see how delighted characters like enzo would be when his darling finally just responds to him and even takes the reigns. i think you write him as someone more subtle and less obvious in his use of force towards getting the darling to respond, so i think he'd be one of the most overjoyed if his darling was to react in a way he never expected (though it's very, very welcomed)

(i'm focusing more on enzo here since i find him most interesting, but if you'd like to include other characters, i wouldn't mind) nsfw or spicy-adjacent please! men who whimper are just exquisite and it is a need to spread this agenda. there's nothing to avoid here, throw in whatever you see fit: gore, alcohol, cursing, smoking, have your fun!

OHOHOHOOH HOLY SHIT YES

• smut • shut up — yandere! submissive! enzo berkshire x male! dominant! reader

he’s my little sweetie pie and/or bitch

warnings: dubcon—sexual acts performed under the influence of alcohol, amab anatomy for reader, oral sex (performed on reader), light/moderate yandere behaviors, dominant/submissive roles, pet names, degradation (not really) & praise

guess what! i actually wrote semi-okay (?) smut for once! and it’s actually kind of descriptive this time!

⛔️ smut ahead! MDNI! ⛔️

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Okay, it calls for…two sprigs of box elder next,” your project partner and general nuisance Enzo Berkshire read aloud from the Potions textbook. He dug through the sachet of ingredients and pulled out a cluster of leaves, holding them out to you and shooting you a winning smile. “I picked these for you, handsome.”

You looked up from where you were stirring the cauldron with a bored expression. “That’s poison ivy.”

Berkshire dropped the leaves with a startled sound, hastily wiping his fingers on his robes.

You just rolled your eyes and sighed. “Fucking dumbass.”

~~~

“Y/n!”

You turned around, startled. Enzo waved cheerily at you with that big dumb stupid grin on his big dumb stupid face.

“Berkshire, I mean this in the nicest way possible. How the fuck did you know where I was?”

“Oh, you always go to Hogsmeade at noon on Sundays!”

“Dude, why the fuck do you know that?”

~~~

“What the hell were you doing?”

You turned around at the demanding voice and insistent tugging on your sleeve.

Enzo Berkshire was glowering behind you, his arms crossed over his chest and a red solo cup in hand.

“Wh- oh, it’s you,” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you talking to Nott?” The scent of alcohol was thick on his breath, although you weren’t really much better.

You scoffed. “Because I can?”

“Well, I don’t like it,” he sneered. “He’s a fuckboy. He’ll break your heart.”

“And? I can make my own decisions.”

“No you can’t!” He snapped, crowding further into your space. No one else at the crowded common room party even seemed to notice this mild squabble.

You opened your mouth to retort when he grabbed your sleeve again and stumbled down the hall to his dorm, dragging you along with him despite your halfhearted protests.

~~~

The door had barely clicked shut before you shoved him up against the wall.

He flinched back at the suddenness of your reaction, scrambling for anything to hold onto to regain his balance. “Wh-”

“Okay, I’m only going to say this once, so listen up,” your voice dropped to a deadly low tone and your grip on him tightened in warning. “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Enzo’s eyes widened and he whimpered.

You paused at the sound, an eyebrow quirking up.

“Did you seriously just fucking whimper?”

His cheeks turned bright red and he looked away.

You guided his gaze back toward yours with a firm hand on his jaw. “I asked you a question.”

Enzo swallowed nervously, his eyes darting around before he nodded slightly.

“Words.”

“Y-yes,” his voice cracked halfway through the word.

“Good boy,” you said sarcastically, releasing your grip on him and trying to ignore the way that your own cheeks flushed.

He whimpered again, his hands instinctively reaching out for you as you moved away. “No, wait-”

That did it for you. The combination of teenage stupidity, alcohol, and the little noises he made created a Molotov cocktail of lowered inhibitions.

Kaboom.

Without thinking, you cut him off with a searing kiss and shoved him back against the wall again.

He whined softly, his hands pawing frantically at your chest and trying to drag you closer by the tight grip he had on your shirt.

You smacked his hands away, pinning them up against the wall with a tight grip on his wrists.

You split apart, both breathing heavily. His cheeks were flushed a bright red and he looked quite startled—either by your reaction or his own, you couldn’t quite tell.

“Uh-” Enzo cleared his throat, trying desperately to regain control of the situation. “S-so you do like me! I knew it!”

You rolled your eyes, your hands releasing their grip on his wrists and wandering down to his hips. “Shut up.”

He grinned cheekily, his eyes narrowing in a (poor) attempt at seduction. “Oh yeah? Tell me, would I be coming off too strong if I asked you to get on your knees for me, darlin’?”

You snickered.

His over-confident smirk faltered at the sound.

“Oh no…darlin’.” you grinned shrewdly, drawing your hands back. “I don’t get on my knees for anyone.”

You punctuated your point with two heavy hands on his shoulders, firmly guiding him downwards.

Enzo made a startled noise and went down surprisingly easily. He kneeled down at your feet without a second thought and rested his hands on your thighs, looking up at you with blown wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

You petted the top of his head, running your fingers through his hair in a patronizing way—like he was nothing more than a dog.

“What, not much of a big-talker now?”

He gulped.

You caressed Enzo’s cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone. “Go on, pup. Why don’t you make me feel good, hm?”

You could physically see his pupils dilate at the nickname. His hands scrambled to unfasten the button of your trousers, yanking them down mid-thigh.

You drew in a sharp breath, caught off guard by his enthusiasm.

Enzo wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around the base of your dick. He licked a long stripe up it, promptly wrapping his mouth around it and looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes and fluttering lashes.

“Shit- fuck- so fuckin’ good, babe. S-so good for me,” you gasped, carding your fingers through his hair.

He moaned softly around you at the praise, the vibrations from which sent sparks dancing up your spine.

“Merlin- darlin’, y-you-” your free hand shot forward to grip onto the wall behind him, keeping you steady as your legs shook.

Invigorated by the obvious effect he was having on you, Enzo redoubled his efforts to bring you to your breaking point.

It didn’t take long.

With only your hand tightening in his hair as a warning, your orgasm hit you like a truck. You could’ve sworn your vision went white for a second.

As soon as you regained your bearings, you yanked him up by the front of his shirt and immediately kissed him with a “good boy” mumbled against his lips. His hips bucked frantically against your hip and he let out a pleading whine.

You shushed him softly with a kiss pressed against the base of his throat, your fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt.

Your hand dove into his trousers the second you got the button undone, your fingers wrapping around his dick with no further preamble.

Enzo whined, tucking his face into the crook of your neck and holding onto your shoulders with trembling fingers.

“Oh? Is all this for me, pup?” You teased softly, your hand beginning to move in a fast but steady rhythm.

At his sweet and quiet moan, you kissed the spot where his jaw curved behind his ear.

He full on whimpered yet again.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to last long.

His fingers began to dig into your shoulders as he clung to you for support. “Y/- oh, Y/n- I’m gonna-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

His body shook and quivered under your touch as he fell apart with a high pitched whine. He clung onto your shoulders as his legs threatened to give out from underneath him.

You quickly grabbed onto his waist to steady him, his breath coming out in short pants.

“You’re okay, you’re alright. Deep breath…that’s it, good boy,” you mumbled reassuringly, tracing a random pattern with your fingers into his hip.

He huffed out a laugh as his breathing slowly returned to normal. “Aww, look at you being all sweet and cute. Big tough guy with a heart of gold.”

“I see you’re still an ass, Berkshire.”

“I get the feeling you love my ass, L/n.”

“…shut up.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

smut tag list — join by request ONLY

@jaythes1mp @slytherinboysappreciation

[probablyspooky]

One of Us (Alien VS Predator Celtic x Fem! Reader)

Born as if you were a yautja yourself, you join your pack to go on your right of passage trip. But running into other humans always causes problems for you.

Trigger warnings : Blood, swearing, white men of course, British people

The clashing of metal on metal echoed throughout the stone walls you called home, the dry humid head of yautja prime beating down on your skin as you dragged in a crate of whatever into the home. Placing the heavy box onto a small table in the center of the room, a loud crash could be heard, followed by a roar, then two roars, and then finally three roars. You pinched the bridge of your nose and walked down the long hallway to the training area out back. Opening the large door you were greeted with three brothers wrestling one another in anger. The smallest Scar, was grabbing his brother Chopper, trying to get him off balance, as their oldest brother Celtic was holding Scar by the leg and Chopper by the arm trying to separate the two. Spit and growls filled your ears as they continued to try and fight one another.

You coughed trying to get their attention, when that didn’t work, you did it again, louder, making all three brothers freeze during their little scuffle. Celtic dropped both his brothers and walked over to you, draping an arm around your waist.

Despite your origins, and your small stature, Celtic found comfort within you as his mate. You’ve proved your strength through combat strategy, and combat intelligence. His gentle purrs emanated from his chest as he greeted you softly, a bit embarrassed that you got to see his two brothers fighting like that.

“Hello my love,” Celtic purred, placing his chin to your head, “What goes on today?”

You placed a comforting hand onto his arm and looked up at him, typically he would be wearing his combat mask, but today his face was free, you weren’t complaining as you loved him as much as a human could love a creature as marvelous as he.

“A package came,” you told him, looking at the other two brothers who were aggravated by their previous scuffle.

“A package?”asked Chopper, tilting his head towards Celtic and yourself, “Who was it from?”

You rolled your eyes,”You know I can’t read”

“Yeah fool,” Wolf mumbled under his breath, antagonizing his older brother.

Chopper grabbed Wolf into a headlock and the two began scrapping again in the courtyard, Celtic growled lowly, and took your hand, leading you back into the home the four of you shared. The two of you walked into the main area, and he took a look at the wooden crate that was sitting upon the table, reading the label himself.

“What does it say?” you questioned, tilting your head at your mate.

Celtic excitedly picked up the crate and ripped the wooden lid off like it was nothing.

“It is a message from the Elders! We can go on our right of passage soon!”, he clicked excitedly, mandibles stretching out and retracting.

“Does…does it say..?”

“Yes my small one, you are invited as well!”, he clicked, putting the box down, strolling over to you and lifting you into the air in joy.

Now here you were, aboard a ship floating in orbit of Earth, the planet where your ancestors came from, but it was not your home.

The three brothers were adorned in their finest armor, excited for the trip, the crate that had been delivered contained the plasmacaster holders that clipped into their armor, along with a smaller set of traditional yautja armor, armor that now clutched your body tightly for your protection.

“I must say sister,” Chopper started, coming over to the viewing deck, “You look very good in that armor, if Celtic wasn’t my brother, I surely would battle him for your hand”

If only Chopper was a bit more observant, he would notice Celtic standing behind him, the oldest brother was very protective of you, he grabbed his brother's dreads, causing Chopper to yelp in pain.

“My ooman, brother is not a prize to be won,” he growled, throwing his brother onto the ground.

Chopper growled and walked off, possibly to go annoy the youngest brother. Once the sliding door shut behind him, Celtic turned his attention to you.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked, taking your small hand into his

“A bit, I am excited to prove myself again,” you smiled up at him, leaning your head onto his broad shoulder.

“I believe you will be victorious in our mission today, the Elders would not have allowed you to accompany us if they did not have faith in you.”

“Thank you my love,”

“Anything for you”

You could hear the purring coming from his chest, as your wrist gauntlets began to buzz, signaling you to head to the drop pods for deployment.

Walking through the metal halls, and eventually to the loading bay, the four of you entered thin tubes of metal, and soon feeling the pressure drop, you were shot out of the mothership to Earth. Holding onto the sides as the pod shook, and eventually being jolted a bit as the pod crashed into the icey Earth. The pod’s hologram began talking saying the doors were now opened and to hurry and make your clan proud, yet your door never opened. Sighing, you took your boot and began to kick the door out from the inside out, with a couple of good kicks the door dislodged and you were greeted by your mate and his brothers, just standing around your pod watching.

“You could’ve helped,” you groaned, stepping out onto the ice.

“Yeah, but that would be no fun,” Chopper chuckled, turning to the large ice tunnel that led to the temple.

Celtic explained that some other humans were lured here when the Elders began to heat up the temple, forcing the queen to produce facehuggers for them to eventually hunt the xenomorph that would eventually form from that.

Chopper excitedly, pulled out his wrist blades and jumped down the hole to the temple entrance. Scar growling and following his brother, leaving Celtic and you.

“Do you want me to carry you?” he asked, putting his hand out to you.

“In your dreams,” you smirked under your mask, jumping down the hole after them.

“I want you to sire my young,” Celtic grunted, jumping lastly down the hole.

At the end of the tunnel, it seemed there was a small crew at the base of the temple, using your cloaking devices the four of you slowly walked through the camp, trying your hardest not to bring any attention to yourselves. Of course though, a person had to look a bit too hard at the moving figures that seemed to move through nothing. 

A man drew his weapon and began firing at you, the smallest target, it dinked off your armor, and of course your mate did not like that one bit.

Celtic let out a battle cry as he charged his massive frame towards the man, kicking him down with little to no effort. You sighed as the rest of the team began firing at your mate, the two others decloaked along with you and began attacking the humans. Grabbing your spear weapon, you charged at a human man, piercing him through his jaw, and swinging him towards his friends. Running and placing your now retracted spear between their two heads, and then releasing it, stabbing the two in the head at the same time.

Eventually the carnage of the three brothers and yourself left no crew members alive on the above surface. Celtic walked over to you.

“Are you hurt?”

“I can handle myself love,” you groaned

He nodded, knowing he would have to put aside his protective nature towards you while you were on this mission.

The four of you made your way to the main chambers, where the plasma casters should be. But no plasma casters were there. Chopper and Scar began to howl with anger, where could they be? Before any words can be spoken, the temple begins to shift, and three paths open in front of you. With a nod, the mission was clear, Scar and Chopper into their own path, and Celtic and you down your own. You bid them a farewell, possibly the last time you would see them, and Celtic and you made your way down your own path.

Despite having separate paths, you did eventually find Chopper, and he was stalking.

Celtic clicked at his brother, “What is it?”

Chopper pointed at a group of people, and you crouched down to get a better look at them. Using your head vision that was in your mask, you listened to them speak.

Celtic nudged you, pointing to a woman in an orange coat, zooming in you could see one plasma caster in her bag.

Chopper angrily cloaked and jumped down. One human with a gun pointed towards him as he fired a retracting net at him. The man fell back, as the spear the net came from began to retract, the wire pulling deep into the man’s flesh. Celtic and you jumped down as well, another man turned to face you.

“You’re small?”, he looked genuinely confused, as you ran up with your wrist blade drawn and punctured him through his gun, he in his last breaths hit you across the face, knocking your mask off.

The woman who was panicking trying to get the man out of the retracting net, turned to face you.

“You’re a woman?,” she shouted.

You had an annoyed look on your face as you walked over to them trying to help their friend from the net, his cries were annoying, pulling out your spear, you looked her dead in the eyes.

“We are of the same species, but we are not the same blood,” you stated, piercing the man in the chest, killing him and stopping his cries.

The woman yells at you killing her friend, she charges as you, you weren’t sure why she would even try, as it was clear you were of a different class. Using her momentum against her, you lifted her and tossed her into the center of the room.

She stupidly started reaching for a pickaxe to attack you with, but Chopper ran over and de-cloaked, kicking the woman across the room. He soon raised his wrist blades over his head to strike her down and to retrieve the plasma caster from her bag. But the sickening sight of the pitch black tail of a xenomorph began to coil behind him. It reeled back to strike, but you ran over, wrist blade out and cut the sharp tip from the beast, it’s acid blood spraying on your skin causing you to yell out in pain as your skin fizzled away.

Celtic, who was handling a human man, throws the man to the ground at the sound of your screams. He rushes over, grabbing the tail of the xenomorph, pulling it down. It began to frail crazily as it struggled against Celtics grasp. Chopper, regaining his balance, grabbed your spear and pierced it though the head, causing the spear to melt away from its blood. Killing the beast instantly. Chopper let out a roar of victory as he was now a blooded yautja, Celtic rushed over to you and pulled your hands away from your face to look at your wounds. Reaching for his belt and pulling out some healing goop, goo? Cum? Healing herbs???? I DONT KNOW

And applied it gently to the fresh scar that now went from the side of your face to your lower cheek.

“Is it ugly?” you asked, feeling the cool ointment being applied.

“The scars of a warrior are the most attractive” he replied, helping you to your feet.

“What the hell is going on!”, the woman shouted at the three of you.

Chopper growled walking over, he was now marked with the symbol of a blooded yautja.

You walked over across the room, past the woman, past the dead man and picked up your mask. Returning to your pack, you placed the mask back onto your face, and one by one the three of you cloaked and ran away into the temple to find Scar.

The three of you found Scar holding the rather old man at the temple stairs. Using your mask you could notice this man was diseased and would probably die within a year or so, so of course Scar tossed him aside as it was not a worthy kill. Not noticing you, Scar began to walk away from the man.

Why are humans so stupid, you watched as this weak man pulled out a flare, and sprayed fire onto Scars back, how pathetic. You watched as your brother turned around and stabbed the man through the gut, killing him and walking away.

Following close behind you watched Scar throwing a shuriken through a closing gate.

“What’s up?”, you asked him, walking with the other two.

“Humans, they’re on the other side of the wall”, Scar grumbled, turning his attention to his sister.

You began to think for a bit on how to get there, not noticing Celtic grabbing a face hugger who was jumping towards the back of your head, throwing it down and stomping on it.

“If we travel through the back ways we can reach them on the other side.” you stated, pulling your gauntlet hologram up to show them the path you wish to take.

“Whatever you say my sister,” Scar and Chopped nodded, cloaking and following Celtic and you.

After a bit of traveling through the tunnels you found yourself in a  dark tunnel, the sound of footsteps echoing off the halls. The three brothers moved to the side so that you could face the human woman.

The woman in the orange coat ran down the hall and stopped in fear when she saw you.

“Wait!”, she pleaded, her hands out in fear, she knelt down, and opened her pack, pulling the plasma caster out. The three brothers tilted their heads at the sight of it.

“Kick it over.” you demanded

She kicked it over and you picked it up in your hands.

“Where are the other ones?” you asked, handing it off to Chopper.

“They…we got separated…” she whimpered, putting her hands above her head in fear.

“Where are they?”, you knelt down pulling your wrist blades out and forcing her to look at your mask.

“I’m not sure! Please, one of those things is coming!” she cried, turning in fear as a xenomorph tried to run up behind her, Chopper, now equipped with his plasma caster fired a single shot, killing the beast.

One by one the three brothers de-cloaked, standing behind you.

“What are you…How did you…” she stammered

“Name?”, you asked, tilting your head at the woman.

“Lex…” she replied, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone right now. “You are weak.”, you spat, standing up to leave, the brothers had already begun walking.

Lex didn’t want to be left alone, in this place, with those things, she ran up and grabbed your arm. Celtic let out a roar as he ran up and put a blade to her neck.

“Let go.” you growled, shaking her hand off, “What do you want, human?”

“Uhm, last time I checked you’re human too…I think..”, Lex replied, sheepishly

“That is true,” you stated, tilting your head at her as you stepped close, “What do you want?”

“Take me with you”

You laughed at her request.

“And why should we let you come with us?”

“I’ve seen your search history”

“I can help you find the other…guns?” she stammered, the cold blade still on her neck.

You sighed, and waved your mate off.

“Very well, but if you try anything, my mate will dispose of you”, you added, walking away.

Lex began to take a step and stopped.

“Mate? This thing is your husband?” she sounded shocked.

You groaned at how close minded she was being. This trip wasn’t going how you’d hoped.

After answering a million awful questions about your personal life to Lex, the group came upon the sacrificial chamber.

“How do you feel about your people being used as hosts for these things you hunt?” Lex asked, her voice clearly full of anger towards the Yautja kind.

“Those who give their bodies up for the tradition of blooding are remembered well for their sacrifice. We honor them.”

Walking into the chamber, it was covered in the webbing of face hugger eggs constantly reproducing. Chopper and Scar began to walk around to investigate the bodies, while Celtic began to scan the temple to see how many of these creatures had been created. Lex and you began to walk the walls, looking for any signs of life.

“Disgusting,” you grumbled, feeling the wet under your boot.

“What’s disgusting is what you’re doing”, Lex sneered

You turned to her in anger, drawing your blade you came close to Lex.

“I am only keeping you alive as an act of mercy, I will revoke it at any time.

Lex stammered, her eyes darting back and forth from your face to the blade.

“I’m-”

But then a cry echoed through the chamber, as a man who was fused to the wall began to groan in agony and pain.

[tteokdoroki]

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— count to five + mirio togata.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — when your job as your teacher takes you halfway across japan, you don’t expect a little boy and his father to change your life nearly as much as they do. or the five times in which you encounter mirio togata and his son, yoshi.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers, single-parenthood, mention of hospitals, mentions of reader being smaller than mirio, unprotected sex, rough sex, exhibitionism, choking, dacryphilia, auralism, scratching, biting, creampie, squirting, fingering ( f!receiving ), praise!kink, daddy!kink, size!kink - fem!reader, teacher!reader, single-dad!mirio.

⭑ words — 6.3K.

⭑ notes — hi !!! it’s been a while! thank your being patient with me! here’s a little commission written for the lovely @roses-and-whisky who has given me permission to post. i hope you all enjoy !! - m.list ✩

the first time you meet mirio togata, it’s oddly warm for the season— the usual bite to a late autumn’s day nowhere to be found. sunshine beats down on your back, only adding to the heat simmering and rushing through your body as you work to unload moving boxes from the van you’d hired. though, you’re sweaty, and tired from hours of travelling across the cities of Japan, you’re excited for your fresh start. a degree hanging from your belt, plenty of experience behind you— the world is now your oyster.

cardboard filled with knickknacks and memories from your parents, childhood and all your school years sits heavy in your palms before you place it on the sidewalk— knowing that your host in this city will help you move into the gated community nearby, a room with your name painted into the blank white walls already set up for you. 

“thas’a cool snow globe!” a childish, boy-ish voice squeaks from beside you once you’ve set the box down— daring to tug your gaze upwards to meet a child who perhaps embodies the same sunshine that’s giving you warmth today. his eyes are a brilliant blue, gaps in his teeth where his adult ones just about break through the gums. the boy points a finger tip covered in blue marker, no doubt, towards the trinket in your box with glimmering matching eyes. 

smiling softly, you take it out of your box, thumbing the embossed logo of your university before shaking it and handing it to the tiny blonde. “isn’t it?” you whisper to him like you’re sharing a secret, leaning in real close and cupping his hands in your own. they’re warm. “if you hold it up to the sky, just right…” you add, pushing your hands upward with his to hold the snow globe under the sun. “the light catches on the glitter inside, making a snowy little rainbow!”

“woaaaah! that’s even cooler!” 

the boy grins, eyes scintillating like the pearlescent flecks mixed into the water of your snow globe— little bits of white covering the two happy caricatures stuck inside. 

“yoshi! how many times do i have to tell you not to run ahead, buddy?” the little boy, that you now know as yoshi, freezes in place— candescent azure eyes shooting over to his father as if he’s been caught in the act. he knows they’ll be late for swimming if they don’t keep walking…but your snow globe is just so cool. if you thought the kid was bright, the man before you is even brighter…the centre of your solar system, a warm heart lodged between his two juicy pecs and a chiselled jaw. he looks like he’s walked straight out of a movie, sending your brain into a tizzy. 

he’s stunning and your words come out jumbled as you address him. “is he yours?” you ask, body struck with the heat of the pro hero before you, the sun above you too. 

you feel a bit silly for asking the question, the uncanny resemblance between the two becoming even more obvious— as with the fact that it’s lemillion you’re talking to. the elder blonde’s hearty laughter echoing between you both on the side of the street. “yes, he’s mine. all my own flesh and blood,” mirio responds proudly. you’ve always loved children, but you never thought the pro hero would have one of his own.

and you never thought you’d wanted to mother someone’s children as much as you did his. mirio togata, desirable, handsome and good with kids. 

“introduce yourself buddy, be polite.” 

the little boy nods eagerly, bowing to you with respect after beaming at you warmly. “i-i’m yoshi togata! nice ta’meet you ma’am!” 

you giggle and mirio grins. you’re cute, endearing almost— and he finds himself laughing with you.

“it’s lovely to meet you too, yoshi,” you reply, sticking your hand out to shake his tinier one as you give them both your name kindly. 

sweet, just like you. mirio likes the way you interact with his son. he likes you, so far.

before mirio can introduce himself back, the driver in your mover’s van honks loudly. “move it lady! i’m not waitin’ out here for you all day or i’m uppin’ the price of your service.” you give the pair an apologetic look in response, offering a high five to yoshi and a shy wave to his dad, scurrying off to finish unloading the van. 

and mirio watches you go, for more than one reason.

the second time you encounter mirio togata, is after a disaster— his very reason for existence, his sunshine, little yoshi, nearly loses his light. 

you had always wanted to teach. nurturing children into the faces of tomorrow was your calling— guiding them to be good and help others without question…and as it turns out, the graduate teaching position you’d been hired for took in a lot of students who were the children of pro heroes, and the little blonde raised by his almost identical father just so happened to be a student in your kindergarten class. yoshi togata had taken an instant liking to you as his teacher, a child-like wonder akin to magic from fairy tales emitting from the little boy whenever you looked at him, helped him along in reading and solving calculations in the dreaded maths classes. 

yoshi absolutely adored you. 

he wanted to sit with you at lunch time, tucked himself into your side during nap time and screamed your name the first time his quirk ever activated. as much as the darling boy looked like pro hero lemillion— his quirk was scarily similar to it as well.

yoshi wails the whole way to the hospital, the lack of air he received after slipping through the concrete in the school yard while scraping his knee, a little beyond the school nurse’s jurisdiction. you’d already gotten someone to cover your class, speeding to the nearest emergency room with hope that someone had alerted his father of the situation.

when mirio arrives, yoshi’s cheeks are luckily smeared with chocolate pudding cups instead of saltine tears and he’s surprisingly cheerful for a kid attached to a small IV drip— dressed in his own red-riot themed hospital gown, with you resting beside the bed in his ward.

“how ya feelin’ buddy?” lemillion whispers, tone on the edge of worry as he slips off the cape to his hero costume. “heard you got your quirk today.” 

the bouncing baby boy with sunshine in his eyes shuffles onto his knees, wobbling over the edge of his bed before being snatched up by his dad, bright laughter bubbling on his lips when he nearly slips through the beefy man’s arms. “uh huh! an’ miss got me puddin’ cups! said i was real brave.” 

“you were kid, but we gotta get this quirk under control! dad’s gonna have to teach ya!”

togata turns to you next, appreciation evident on his matured features— radiating around you warmly. “h-he really was brave,” you say sincerely, sitting up and a little more awake now the pro hero of your dreams is looking deep into your soul. “i was so worried! but yoshi behaved just like a pro.” you cringe a little at your choice of words, but the strapping blonde before you only takes your hand, lips brushing across the back of your knuckles in such a way that tingles run down your spine. 

sapphire orbs flick upwards to make yours as you feel the heat of the sun simmering underneath your cheeks. 

“thank you for looking out for him,” he says, voice cheerful and like honey in your ears. “i never got to properly introduce myself, even after all this time. i’m—“

“lemillion, i-i know.” 

“mirio. togata, actually. and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” mirio cuts you off but the gentle smile never leaves his handsome face, and you’re sure you might pass out— embarrassed by his forwardness and flirting in front of his son, your student ( who’s too occupied by pudding cups and old cartoon reruns to actually care. ) 

there’s a knock to the door before it opens as the two of you share a moment. “mrs…togata and lemillion, sir! i have an update on your son’s vitals and quirk—“ suddenly, the doctor enters the room like a hurricane disrupting a quaint little farm.

and you jump back from the pro hero, bashful and shy. “o-oh! no. i’m not…we’re not!” gesturing between yourself and mirio, you shake your head— trying to dispel any wedded-couple vibes the pair of you might give off. “i’m just the teacher.” 

the doctor raises a brow, looking up from his sheets on the young togata’s vitals and then hums. “my apologies then,” he turns to mirio. “your son seems to be doing extremely well— considering the circumstances and shock to his body he must’ve experienced….” 

the doctor’s words fade into nothing but static as you attempt to calm your beating heart— sending reassuring smiles in yoshi’s direction from time to time while his father and the medical expert discuss the next steps to take regarding his quirk. 

but you don’t think you’ll get your heart to calm down tonight… not with the way mirio still holds your hand, thumb brushing over the back of it fondly.

your third memorable encounter with mirio togata falls on the day of your school’s winter fundraiser. 

lemillion had made himself a permanent fixture in your humble little life as a teacher—somehow acquiring your number from the school offices to constantly text you throughout the day. you knew that the pair of you were crossing the boundaries of professionalism, parent and teacher, but it couldn’t be helped. your heart fluttered at every message you exchanged, pictures of yoshi enjoying himself at school and some of mirio on patrol being sent back and forth. 

and so, you were beyond excited when the winter fate rolled around, the children of your class volunteering with their parents to help out at different stalls— yoshi had been sure to sign up to help you with the bake sale, roping in his dad as well. the two stayed up all night prior, baking pro hero themed cupcakes decorated with hundreds and thousands and dollops of tubed colourful frosting to sell, though messy, it only warmed your heart having their company.

“remember yoshi, i don’t want you phasing through the tables to steal the merchandise from the bake sale!” you remind the younger togata sweetly as he helps you set up the various baked goods for display. he shakes his head in affirmation, golden curls bouncing over ocean eyes and freckled cheeks despite the crumbs residing on them— evidence of his crimes. “though, i’m sure your dad will boost our donations! since he’s a pro hero and all.” not to mention all the mothers and single teachers are ogling the hell out him right now, you’re sure that they’re plotting your murder too. 

wiping yoshi’s mouth, you shift your attention to his father— rolling your eyes amusedly at the bags under his own from staying up late to bake. “i certainly must be givin’ you an ego boost helping out too, having a pro hero do all your dirty work.” lemillion teases, voice lowered and husky— though grateful when you pass him a hot coffee. 

“oh please mister togata,” turning on your own flirty charm, you send a wink the pro hero’s way. “you adore being my little helper, i’m sure you’ve missed having a woman boss you about like you need.” the second half of your words are whispered, almost sultry as you cross more boundaries in your unique and blossoming relationship. 

mirio flushes, and in the tight space of your bakesale booth— presses his broad and molten-warm chest against your back, coffee in one hand while the other sits in a calculated manor on your hip. 

“oh, i do love a woman in charge, miss.” the way he utters your name, sounds like and is as sweet as melted chocolate— far too risqué for a school fundraiser, and it’s your turn to shy away from the heat of the moment. 

you allow yourself to be distracted by the children, yoshi included — who must have snuck off using his quirk— playing dangerously close to a heavily decorated Christmas tree that threatens to topple over as they weave around beneath it, and rush off to stop them— leaving the darling lemillion to deal with a swarm of hungry mothers and staff, desperate for a slice of his pie and not the cake your booth has to offer. he can’t help but watch you longingly, the way you bend down to speak soft to the children, holding their chubby little hands while giving them a gentle reprimand. 

you’re so good with kids, good with yoshi— and mirio would be lying if he didn’t say you were good with him too. 

you didn’t judge him for having a child before marriage, when he was still making a name for himself— you were kind to him, sweet and oh so understanding. 

and perhaps he’d come to like you for reasons more than just being good with his son.

though his fantasises of having you close, having you to himself and making you a part of his family are promptly cut short by the intrusion of his long time friend…izuku midoriya. when the number one, his competion from way back when, seems to appear from nowhere— joining you with the now squealing children, giving them a lesson ( no doubt ) on how to be a good hero. or some mushy crap like that. 

you seem impressed, smitten at how good deku is with your students, ruffling their hair and holding them up high above the green ringlets that make everyone go crazy…including you. mirio doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up brighter than those on the Christmas tree as izuku plays with your kids, puts his hand on the small of your back and whispers way too damn close to your ear. 

since when did that shrimp have moves? the blonde can’t help but wonder. why do you like him so much?

your smile is near blinding when you return back to the bake sale booth with izuku on your arm— rambling about how much it took to get him to come, how good for the school it will be… as if togata hadn’t been standing right there the entire time. it bothers mirio a little bit, just how bright you shine when this other man is around, despite the budding romance you both might be sharing. 

so he really can’t help himself, jealousy boiling over, when he blurts out. “are you two dating? am i missing something, number one?” in a strained, faux happy voice. 

“o-oh! god no!” 

“w-what? mirio no! midoriya is my cousin.” you’re quick to dismiss the idea, shaking your head while the number one hero turns bright red. “i invited him along today because he’s obviously a hit amongst single parents— freckles like this are sure to bring in the big bucks.” you cheer, punching your relatives star spotted cheeks. 

izuku is rendered embarrassed for the remainder of the fundraiser, mirio absolutely mortified and you extremely amused but the rest of the bake sale goes without a hitch until closing and clean up time. yoshi sleeps on a bench behind your booth ( ultimately crashing from a sugar high ) as your cousin serves the very last of your eager customers trying to tempt him with their cookies instead of buying the ones izuku‘s girlfriend makes for a living.

as though not to disturb his sleeping son, the elder blonde shoots you a quick text.

mister togata - 5:45PM : I definitely was not jealous earlier. 

mister togata - 5:46PM : So pls disregard me making a fool out of myself in front of your cousin.

you stifle a breathless chuckle like music to mirio’s ears, before looking back to see if yoshi is still resting peacefully and shoot another text in response.

yoshi’s pretty teacher lady - 5:49PM : oh i dunno, don’t think i can forget you mistaking my cousin for my boyfriend. 

yoshi’s pretty teacher lady - 5:49PM : but maybe i can make an exception for you. 

that familiar crack of heat flitters in the air when you both look up from your phones and catch one another’s gaze— suddenly aware of how small the space in booth is, how close you both are…how if you stood on your tiptoes you might be able to…

to kiss him.

to kiss one another.

but the moment is soon lost, wanting energy dissipating within the air as yoshi stirs to mumble tiredly. “don’ get too close to daddy miss!” the baby boy utters your name once, rubbing his eyes. “he’s got cooties.”

it’s only then that you truly realise how close you to the man…to this pro hero whose son is someone that you teach. it’s wrong, unprofessional… and losing your career isn’t worth kissing togata, no matter how much you want it.

so you back away— treating mirio togata as if he really does have cooties, putting up a wall between you both.

the fourth time you cross paths with mirio togata, you’re wet. 

and not because of him. 

the rain from an unexpected storm after work soaks you to the bone as you desperately call out to deku from your shared front porch— pleading and begging with the gods for him to be home since you’d forgotten your house keys back at your office on campus. 

neither of you had realised it at the time, but when you’d first met mirio on your move-in date— you’d made arrangements to bunk with your cousin, izuku, in the same gated community that mirio lived in. the one where he just so happened to be neighbours with the top hero too. 

the sunshine-like pro hero had spotted you shivering like a purse dog outside while home with a sickly little yoshi and despite the frosty awkwardness that built up between you both after the bake-sale, mirio knew it would be cruel of him to just leave you outside like that. “come inside,” he frowns, as if to scold you the same way you’d do with your students. “you’ll catch a cold like this if you don’t. and i’m not taking no for an answer, deku is on patrol, won’t be home until late.” 

you look defeated, like a kicked puppy as you trudge into the togata household, clothes heavy with water. “i’m sorry,” you pout, as cute as ever— stealing mirio’s heart right from where it beats in his chest. 

“don’t be, head upstairs and take the first right into my room. you can grab a change of clothes and stay here until your cousin comes home. i’ll fix you something to eat.” 

it has the man’s stomach in knots how easily you follow his command, how beautiful you look with raindrops clinging to your skin. you’re even more so when you come back down dressed in an old sir night-eye shirt of his, heading over to join a pleased yoshi on the couch who can’t stop talking about how how he hated missing school and being sick and how glad he is that you came to visit.

yoshi trusts you so much, and that’s more than enough to drive mirio insane…but seeing you in his shirt too? it’s icing on the cake. 

the rest of the evening is spent with you making funny shaped homemade pizzas with the younger togata and picking a book for him while his father and lemillion draws him a bubble bath. after washing up, you read yoshi the story until his eyes droop… and you can’t help but be a little jealous of how long his golden lashes are as they brush the freckles on his chubby cheeks. mirio spends that time avoiding eye contact, staring at your bottom when it peeks out from under his shirt and thinking of you in the most unholy ways.

when the time comes, you tuck the darling yoshi into his dinosaur and suneater themed sheets alongside his father before letting the elder togata guide you to the guest bedroom just one floor up and two doors down from his own. “sleep tight,” you murmur to the man, just a breath’s width apart in the doorway. “i-i’ll head back to midoriya’s in the morning. s-so thank you for tonight…”

he wants to say thank you back, for spending time with his son and teaching him so well, but lemillion’s words are lost on the way you look up at him with such bright doe eyes and a sleepy sweet smile. you chuckle breathlessly and slip away into the room, leaving mirio a flustered statue in place. 

neither of your nights end there, however.

crossing the lines of professionalism once more, surrounded by all of his scents— hazelnuts and burning wood…you’re overcome with desire, there’s a familiar twitch between your thighs and a throb at your clit that you have to soothe. every neuron in your brain screams at you to stop, though your fingers circle your nub from over the crotch of your panties and thoughts of mirio above you, inside of of you and all over you ebb at your moral judgement. 

it’s wrong, to moan mirio’s name into his sheets that smell like him…for you cunt to drool selfishly through your night clothes against the warm blanket he’d provided you with. the blonde hears you through the paper thin walls, cock swelling more and more with every mewl you let out. ones that are promised to him and him alone. 

mirio chokes on groans, fists his cock and spreads his precum all over his expensive bed linen, humping his duvet as he imagines your supple, heated flesh beneath him. you’re like the sun, pulling him into your orbit and incinerating him from the inside out. he calls your name like it’s a prayer, half hoping you can hear his wanton for you echo across the hall, too busy jacking off to burst into your room and pump you full. make you a mother to his second and third child. 

it’s far from appropriate, the pair of you getting off to one another in the middle of the night like this— but neither of you can think to stop, minds clouded by lust and orgasms that breach the horizon of the early morning… the tastes of each other’s names like sins on your tongues.

the filth and final time you encounter mirio togata like this, you’re like a lamb being sent to the slaughter.

pretty prey walking into the lion’s den.

you learn from yoshi during pick-up time that his father had fallen sick with the winter’s cold…explaining why you hadn’t seen him much between the special encounters after your night of sin. suneater— or mister amajiki, a close friend of the togatas, picks up yoshi under the guise of a play date while mirio recovers from a particularly serious cold and flu he caught on patrol. 

“you should go see daddy!” yoshi babbles before bounding down to his uncle’s car. “he calls out for you a lot!” the cluelessness yet enthusiasm of a child will never cease to amaze you, and you have to control your stutter when hesitantly agreeing with your student. you know why mirio calls your name so much, that night hadn’t been the only time you’d gotten off to one another, nor would it be the last. you’d even walked in on the pro hero fisting his cock with your name wet on his tongue but neither of you had said a word at the time. 

once all of your students have been sent off with their parents and carers, you make sure to swing by the closest mart to make somewhat of a care package for mister togata. some cough drops, cold medicine, heating pads for his hands and several tins of soup— all with the hope of helping him feel better. 

you’re not nearly prepared for the sight you’re given when knocking on mirio’s door later on.

he says your name as soon as he opens up, hoarse and almost sultry,, and the man is half naked too— golden skin radiating with heat, coruscating with sweat and a slight flush from the fever. “fuck, pretty girl. you’ve come t’take care of me, hm?” mirio slurs in a slow and sexy way, swaying on his feet and collapsing onto you right on the front porch. “wha’d’are ya doin’ here gorgeous?” 

embarrassment floods your veins, tangling with the heat burning from mirio against you. “l-lets get you inside, you’re sick.” 

“lovesick, baby, been missin’ you all week.” 

his words shouldn’t send your brain into a flurry as you push the pro hero back into his house but they do. you struggle with avoiding how he slobbers all over you like a horny dog, how he smirks cockily  while you push him to sit against the livingroom couch. “we need to bring down this fever,” dismissing the blonde, you rush to his kitchen for a tall glass of water and boil the kettle to make him one of those medicated hot drinks. “you’ll be better soon, mister togata.”

blinking over at you with reddened lined eyes, lemillion keeps a predatory gaze on you despite how ill he is. “using formalities with me, sunshine?” he coos in response, distracted when you return by attempting to tug off more of his clothes…or his pants, rather. “that’s not what you were calling me the other night when you phoned to let me watch you shove your tiny fingers into that tight…pretty pussy…moaning my name—“ 

“mirio!” 

“just like that gorgeous… fuck, say it again, baby.” you know that the man is delirious with his flu, but the low voice he drops deep, dripping with honey, filling you with that familiar lust you got off on whenever the two of you met up in secret. “‘mirio, m-mirio…oh fuck! mirio!’ you get so cute when you whine for me like that.” he’s playing you for a fool and you’re falling for it— like an easy game of cat and mouse, mirio coyly flirting with you as you desperately try to keep his sweatpants on. bundling him up in blankets and filling him up with cold water to calm down his fever. 

you’re about to check his temperature again while pressing the back of your hand to his forehead when large and calloused hands grip the fat at your hips— tugging you straight into mirio’s lap like a lion dragging around its prey before the kill. “d-doesn’t look like you’re hot anymore…” you squeak, quivering in his grip and feeling every ripple of his thighs and abs beneath your fingertips as you steady yourself against him. 

“fever went down ages ago baby,”  he grins, all toothy and pearly white— pinching your waist, slender fingers cupping the curve of your ass to pull you back and forth over the growing bulge in his lap. “you’re just so fucking cute, dotin’ all over me, sunshine.” biting your lip, you fall apart easily— bearing witness to tousled golden locks and a smirk that sets a fire alight in your lower belly. “you wanna kiss me, don’t you?” 

then you’re nodding your head, any logical thought cleared from your mind ( even the ones about not spreading germs that you usually tell to your students )— you want to know what the sun tastes like, if it’s as warm or as hot as science makes it seem. a heavy hand cups your throat without squeezing and brings you down for a passionate lip lock, your own finding the thick tresses of light and fiery hair as mirio’s tongue glides over the seam of your lips after pressing against yours. you moan at the sweet taste of honey and ginger on his lips, whimper in the form of begging for the man to let you in and consume you whole until you’re nothing but stardust.

neither of you part, lungs burning for oxygen like you’re lost in space with no air to breathe— grinding and kissing like your lives depend on it. everything is sloppy, spit-slicked and full of the admissions of feelings— you like each other. need each other like the earth needs its light and the sun needs something to shine down on. mirio sucks on your bottom lip, takes it between his teeth and slowly pulls away from you, but you follow him, chasing your own personal ecstasy. 

“so needy, sunshine,” mirio coos, a certain deep rasp caught in the ridges of his throat. “so pretty like this too, so cute, all small in my lap. with my hands around your darlin’ little neck.” cobalt eyes, as luminous as the skies on a clear day flicker up to meet yours, swimming with tears of desperation— a craving for more of mirio togata carved into each fleck, drowning your dilated pupils. “do you want me to fuck you?” 

you nod again, the world around you spinning and your thoughts intoxicated with the golden boy hero beneath your thighs that tremble with each compliment he feeds to you. “yes— god, please.” 

“please, what?” togata asks you, voice stern as he works on pulling you out of the layers of your clothes— blouse and bra gone before you can even register it. 

pouting, you whisper a needy. “m-mirio?” 

shaking his head as if chastising a child, the man tuts and mocks your pout all while working on plucking off your skirt next, leaving you in nothing but your innocent cotton panties. “that’s daddy when i’m with you,” he tells you like it’s a promise with his fingers once again fumbling between your bodies and underwear to toy with the pearl between your puffy pussy lips, dragging the newfound wetness over your clit. clear strings of your arousal seep through your panties and leave a dark spot on his sweats. “daddy, when i have you like this, you got that?”

“y-yes,” you mewl eagerly, shifting on your knees so you’re better spread over mirio’s lap— giving him better access to prep your sweet hole as it flutters around his thick digits, earning a breathless chuckle from his wet lips. “yes, daddy.” 

“good fucking girl,” he says proudly, gaze fixated on between your pretty thighs— watching you quiver from the praise before mirio relents, easing two fingers past your soaked entrance and scissoring them immediately. stretching you wide to take his girthy cock. “oh fuck, my little sunshine’s so warm, so wet for me.” he groans, drawing his name against your silken walls, thumb painting wide sloppy circles into your clit.

your face feels hot with tears, something that mirio enjoys seeing, especially when they clump in your eyelashes. “please…i want more,” i want you. is what you mean, nails lightly cutting into mirio’s shirtless shoulders as you ride the digits pumping in and out of your slick cunt, squeezing tight around them as you gush into the seat of his palm. “d-daddy!” 

“shhh, i know little sunshine, daddy knows,” he hums softly after pressing down on your g-spot, carefully pulling his fingers out of you to push you onto your back on the couch. “be good f’me and don’t cum yet, kay? want you to hold onto that until i’ve got you on my cock. yeah?” mirio’s words are tender, though domineering, while he shifts to hover over you, hot tongue burning against your skin as he licks a trail from the hem of your panties, between your arching back, bare breasts and budding nipples until he meets your lips— drooling into your eager open mouth as you pant out for more. “so fucking perfect, sunshine.” 

cool air rushes over your pulsating, glistening pussy— mirio having pulled your underwear aside, only causing you to cry out from the lack of stimulation. “don’t cry, pretty baby,” you manage to hear him over the blood pulsing through your ears, body tingling all over at the feeling of mirio’s girthy cock pressing against your inner thigh through layers of fabric. “‘m gonna fuck you now, don’t worry. daddy’s gotcha.” 

he hikes a thigh of yours up over his hip, shoving down his boxers and sweats just enough to let his mushroomed and seedy cockhead press into the heat of your pussy. you dig your nails into mirio’s sweaty scalp, mouth hanging open and hips rising from the sticky leather of the couch covered in your juices. the man above you is the centre of your universe, you think. though your relationship may be somewhat taboo, you feel the care and affection he has for you in every single one of his touches. calloused hands moulding your body into the perfect shape to fuck, to make love to and makes you feel like jello as his fat, veiny dick pushes deeper into you— big for the slickness of your pussy to resist him. 

“relax for daddy, sweetheart, let me in…c’mon, fuck. open up f’me,” mirio simpers, rolling his hips slow and sensual until your walls tremble around him— welcoming his dick home, bathing him in all of your arousal. he throbs inside you, finally sheathed in all your warmth as if you’re the core of his earth. “that’s it…my good girl, oh fuck. fuck, you feel better than i ever imagined. so fucking tight baby, gonna let daddy fuck you right, huh?” you can tell that he’s losing himself within you, now forcing your knees into your shoulders to put you into a mating press and wasting no more time setting a rough, feverish pace to his hips and pounding into your sweet cunt. 

you cry and squeal and claw at togata, the world spinning on its axis around you while the blonde fucks you into a stupor— his tip smearing copious amounts of thick precum along your velveteen insides until there’s a white ring of your mixed arousals cuffed around the base of his blue veined cock. “d-daddy…s’good. so fuckin’ good,” your own juices splash up against the pro hero’s stomach and and every time his hips slam down against your own— wet skin slapping on skin in a rhythmic and sensual tune. 

galaxies twinkle in your pretty eyes, your teeth sinking into mirio’s golden and broad shoulders while you scratch at his back. the sound of sex clinging to the air in the room is primal, animalistic as lemillion cups your throat again— tilting your head so that he can mark his claim into your sweat tainted flesh. the fabric of your panties pushed to the side rubs deliciously at his soaked, creamy shaft and the waistband of his pants rub your clit raw, the effect the clothing has on you both leading you to believe that neither of you will last much longer like this.

“‘m makin’ you see fuckin’ stars, aren’t i sunshine?” he asks you, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust—cum-loaded balls tapping against your ass, the sound mixing with your squeals to make a lustful song. “want this pretty pussy to cum for me. can you do that, my good girl?” mirio moans heartily above the couch squeaking beneath your bodies that dance together in rough and passionate movements.

he smiles again, nice and bright when you nod and start to circle your hips upwards as best as you can into his. “‘m close, can cum for daddy. wanna cum for daddy. please don’t stop, please—!”

“alright baby, i gotcha…look at you. so cute and needy for your daddy. for me.” mirio gunts back into your mouth, falling apart at the sight of your lovesick and teary face, crumbling at the way your cunt clamps down on him— refusing to let him pull out in an attempt to milk him for all his worth. you’re tight around him, practically choking mirio’s cock as his fat milky tip bullies your insides and harshly bares down on your g-spot— sending you headfirst into your orgasm. “that’s it…fuck look at that, pretty lil pussy cummin’ around daddy’s fat cock. s-shit.”

soft praises are expelled into the buzzing air between you both, with you gasping for breath and squirting on the blonde’s dick so hard that he’s forced out of your pulsing walls before he cums in hot waves over your raw mound— painting your ravaged pussy lips white with his hot and thick seed. 

you’re both left panting and sticky messes on the couch as you come down from your highs— your mind running a mile a minute when you realise what’s just happened, what you’ve done with the father of your student. no less.

“m-mister togata, i-i’m—“ you start to apologise, coming too, heart rate spiking in your chest. 

but mirio is quick to stop you, forehead and sweaty blonde locks pressed to your own with a dreamy and satisfied look on your face. “before you say anything more. i want you to know that this wasn’t just a hook up for me. nor were the times before that.” he explains,blinking up at you with unadulterated affection, perhaps even love. “i like you, a-and i like how you look out for my son. and i know our relationship has been far from appropriate, i’d like to take you out for a proper date— do things right instead of sleeping with you to work up my courage to ask you out.” 

“mirio…” you smile, brushing back his hair. “i’d love that, a lot actually.”

“yeah?” he asks, timid for a man who just fucked you to the high heavens and back before linking your fingers. “say you mean it, or you’ll be breakin’ both mine and yoshi's hearts.” 

“yeah…” you murmur through a laugh, leaning up for a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 

the fifth time you encounter mirio togata, you walk into the lions den, but come out with him hand in hand— your hearts belonging to one another.

[qtkarma]

GLORY BOX

you and nanami fuck in the back of his very expensive orange bentley.

tw ; f!reader, smut, age difference, teacher x student

a/n it’s not specified how much, but the characters are aged up in this! ( 18 and up ) I wrote this while listening to Glory Box, hence the title, and Million Dollar Man. Stan Nanami Kento!!

You had been in Nanami Kento’s car a total of three times ;

One, when you had been severely injured after taking down a curse, and the only saviour that wasn’t hours away was Nanami. Even in your delirious state, all you could worry about was your blood being all over the expensive leather seats. Nanami had scooped you up off the ground, ignoring the blood staining his suit, and slipped you into the passenger side. As he reached over you, buckling you in, he insisted that cleaning them would be no problem ; you were the priority.

Two, when you had went out clubbing with Jujutsu Tech’s first and second years. ( chaperoned by Gojo, of course. But could you really consider him a chaperone if he was the one who dragged you all out to celebrate you becoming a special grade? ) Not even a drink nor an hour in, the heels you had bought specially for tonight had broken, a light-weight Megumi split a drink onto the very expensive Gucci dress that had been an anonymous gift, and a very drunk passerby of the expensive club elbowed you right in the face on the dance floor. You weren’t having it, and already being in a bad mood, wanted to leave. So, Gojo called up Nanami to take you home, insisting an Uber wasn’t very safe. ( You argued you were a sorcerer, of course you knew basic self defence. ) but yet, you found yourself letting Nanami open his passenger side door for you, taking your hand and guiding you in. You really hoped you didn’t accidentally flash him a peak of your panties, the ones that bared a resemblance to that tie you had always wanted wrapped around your hands.

Three, when Nanami had somehow been assigned to take you to a mission. ( you never would know that Nanami insisted he take you himself. ) You were nervous the whole car ride ; this was an especially dangerous one, more dangerous than the previous one where you had bled all over the very same passenger side seat. Your usually radiant confidence was non-existent, replaced by a quiet demeanour with eyes cast down at your fiddling hands the whole time. Eventually, the clacking of your acrylic nails must have annoyed Nanami, to where he pulled the car over. He rounded the car, opened your door, and pulled you out and sat yourself on the hood of the burnt orange Bentley, then sat next to you. The area was deserted, the only thing around was a beautiful sunset, casting you and Nanami in stunning oranges and reds. You had opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off.

“You know how strong you are, right? A hell of a lot stronger than I was when I was your age. Satoru raves about you and Itadori ; how the both of you are a new age of jujutsu, how you have the potential to be as strong as him one day. Even the elders are scared of your strength; they’re worried you’re too strong for your own good. One botched mission shouldn’t change anything. I… I should have accompanied you to it.” The blond turned towards you and wiped away the stray tears running down your face.

You returned to the Bentley after the mission, a smile brighter than the stars that lit up the night sky painting your face. Not even a singular scratch laid on your skin. You would never forget the smile and pat on the head Nanami gave you, nor the way your thighs rubbed together as your cunt throbbed.

Today, you found yourself in Nanami’s car for the fourth time. Except, you weren’t in the passenger seat.

You were in the back.

Not bleeding,

and certainly not dressed.

Nanami hovered over you, his glasses discarded somewhere on the car floor and his lust filled brown eyes hungrily eyeing your white lacey bra and panties, the only things that remained on you.

You burned under his gaze, nervously casting your gaze to the back of the passenger seat to avoid the eye contact that only made slick pool in your panties even more.

“Look at me,” his voice broke through the combined sounds of both your heavy breathing. Licking your lips, you complied. “You’re so…” Nanami trailed off, one of his huge hands coming to caress the side of your waist.

The leather seats were surprisingly comfy, minus the seatbelt buckles digging into your side. Reaching your hand up, you trailed your acrylics down the side of his neck, stopping to loosen his tie and swiftly unbutton the top two buttons of his work shirt, revealing a peak of his tanned built skin.

“Off… please… ‘M the only one naked.” You murmured, letting your hand fall back down to its original position beside your head.

Nanami let out a low whispery laugh, reaching down to one handedly undo his belt. Your stomach churned at the sight, squirming in anticipation.

He let his belt fall to the car’s floor, alongside your jujutsu tech uniform. He reached down to unzip his slacks, but you reached out, slapping his hand away to do it yourself.

“Needy, are you?” Nanami smirked, letting you work. With a roll of your eyes, you unzipped his work slacks before pausing.

He wore black boxer briefs, straining against his obvious erection. If you looked hard enough, you could see a small, dark spot of precum staining the front of them. With shaking hands, you let your fingers break the waistband, slowly pulling them down.

His cock was beautiful, to say the least. It was probably a tad bit over the average length, but what it lacked in length, it made up for in width. An angry, red tip with precum beading at the top practically glared at you. A prominent vein ran up the side, and at the base, neatly trimmed blond pubes.

To say you were scared of it hurting was an understatement. Nanami Kento’s painfully pretty cock was going to split you into two.

With a shaky breath, you trailed your index finger up the side, biting your lip when it twitched at the touch, and up the tip, collecting the pre on your finger. You brought it up to your mouth, kitten licking it right off.

“Fuck… please…” Nanami growled, moving his hand from the place beside your head and slipping his slacks and boxers all the way off. He reached for your underwear, thumb caressing the skin just above the band.

“You’re sure about this? I don’t want you to regret anything, darling.”

With a huff, you answered. “Nanami, I wouldn’t regret this in a million years. Now please,” grabbing his hand, your forced it down, taking your panties with it. “Fuck me.”

“Kento. Call me Kento.” Kento pulled your panties down the rest of the way, using the utmost care to gently pull them from your ankles, making quick work to reach down and stuff them into the pockets of his slacks.

Turning his attention back to you, he watched as you reached around to unclasp your bra, throwing it to the side. Your half lidded eyes, the ones that had Kento wrapped around your finger since the first day you met, beckoned him to your pussy.

Kento grabbed on of your legs, throwing it over his shoulder, mouth watering at the sight of your pretty little cunt. He stroked himself a few times before resting his bulbous head in between your slick folds, guiding it up and down. Every bump of it on your puffy clit had you gasping, impatience growing.

“Kento…” you spread your legs wider, letting him see how your hole squeezed around nothing, begging to be filled.

“You kill me, you know that?” Kento lined himself up with your slick hole, glancing up at you. You looked out of it. Your tousled hair splayed across the seats, body twitching and your face… Kento would do anything to make sure you always had that needy look on it

“Please…” you begged. “Fuck me, Kento.”

It’s a plead that made his balls heavy as he pushed into you. He really was going to tear you in two, you worried. You wouldn’t really mind dying like this ; squished into Nanami Kento’s backseat of his very expensive car, his dick inside you and body all over you.

Leaning down, he nipped and bit at your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks from your neck to your breasts. Turning attention to your breasts, he lapped and swirled his tongue around nipple, paying attention to your neglected breast with his hand, massaging and pinching. You arched your back, desperate to get even closer.

“Please, Kento.. Fuck me like you mean it, please!” You begged, mind and body to full to do anything other than to plea. Kento, ever the gentlemen, complied.

He pounded into you at a ruthless pace, splitting you into two right in the backseat of his Bentley. The leather is cool on your hot skin, covered in a mix of sweat and slick.

“You’re so pretty. Such a pretty little thing…” Kento huffed, leaning back down to start to nip at the other side of your neck. “You parade around in those little skirts, and never notice all the boys staring at you. How they talk about you.” Kento growled.

“They wouldn’t know how to please you, is that why you decided to chase after me? Hm?”

“Yes! Yes!” You cried, desperate for more. Every drag and push of his cock in your cunt left you begging for more, tears beginning to pool in the corner of your eyes. One hand clutching onto his arm and the other clawing at his toned back, freshly done acrylics leaving angry red marks up and down his back.

Kento glanced down at where the two of you met, a ring of slick collecting at the base of his dick. And is that… blood?

You were a virgin.

You were a virgin and hadn’t mentioned it. You were a virgin and here Kento was fucking you like a whore in the back of his car. Here Kento was, a man twice your age, taking all your innocence and maidenhood.

And here Kento was, dick twitching inside you and growing even harder at the realization.

“Please, inside! Can’t, can’t take it anymore…” you babbled, fat crocodile tears streaming down your face, mascara clumping together and framing your captivating eyes.

“Of course, baby. ‘M gonna give you whatever you want…” Kento grunted, grasping onto your hips, one hand finding purchase on your puffy clit. The rubber band forming inside your stomach is drawing impossibly tight, and there’s nothing you want more than for Nanami Kento to fill you up and make you his.

All it takes it for him to call out your name is that husky voice of his for it to snap. A searing explosion of pleasure rips through you, toes curling and mind shattered. Your entire body shakes, burning with electricity. An orgasm only Kento could give you ; not your fingers, not the orange dildo you had hidden in your bedside drawer, and certainly not any of your little male classmates that always seemed to perk up when your around.

Kento follows not even seconds after you, driving his cock as far as he can into your pretty little cunt, tip nuzzled up against your cervix. His thick cock fills you up with ropes of cum, and you can’t help but watch as the way his abs contract and body tenses. Your vice like squeeze on his cock milks every single drop out of him, filling you up to the brim. Kento can’t help but let out a quiet moan as some of it spills from around his dick, leaking onto the leather seats.

That, though… that was gonna be annoying to clean.

[sebuckyverse]

for a good time, call [3]

modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.

warnings: 18+ cussing, f!masturbation, fingering, dirty talk, smoking, flirting, mutual pining, angst, strangers to friends to lovers word count: 3,5k

an: omg guys, here it is! i hope you enjoy. as always, if you like it let me know by reblogging or leaving a comment - it means so much to me!

chapter two ♫ masterlist ♫ askbox

chapter three ♫♪♩·..·

After a beat of silence, the phone went dead. Disappointment creeped into your soul, but you tried to fight it off. Maybe it was an accident, perhaps the connection just cut out. But as the minutes ticked by, you sat on your bed, clutching your phone that silent. Your bedroom door was open and you could see the moon illuminating your worn out sofa in the living room. It was dead silent, just like your phone.

Was this all a scam? Were you being catfished by some lonely elder, or worse, a disgusting perv? Were you that stupid and naïve?

With shaky hands, you placed your phone back on your nightstand, plugging the charger in. You settled back under the covers with your back facing your bedroom window, clutching the blanket under your chin. In the warm cocoon of your sheets, you fell into a restless sleep.

.•♫•♬•

Eddie wasn't better off. He didn't sleep at all that night. He was racking his brain trying to come up with an excuse that could justify his actions. Landing on zero ideas, he gave up at about 4.30am. He kept opening and closing his iMessage app, sometimes just watching the empty text box and other times actually typing something, then deleting it and tossing his phone on the floor.

He was a piece of shit, honestly. He was wired up to call you, he hit the right button, he heard your voice and then he panicked, once again. In those two seconds, your voice was enough to take his breath away. Your voice was quiet but hopeful and he wrecked everything.

Eddie opened the doors to his suite balcony, sitting down on a wicker basket chair and propping his feet on the metal railing. The chilly air was dancing around his hair and bare shoulders, he was only wearing a simple pair of dark sweats, from which fished out his (regular) cigarettes and lit one. He kept looking at the skyline and the city below it, he could see the roof of the arena he would be playing at later that night.

He pondered what type of music you liked, if you would like his stuff. Would you go to a show, cheer him on from the front row? Or would you be the type to wait in the dressing room unbothered, like his ex. What would you say if he asked you to come to one of his shows? They are scheduled to play two shows in New York in two weeks...

Eddie finished his cigarette stepped back into the room, opening the closet where he caught a glimpse of his rosy cheeks on the mirrored doors and putting on a Corroded Coffin hoodie. He stepped to the desk adjacent to the closet and pulled open a small drawer filled with hotel amenities. He found what he was looking for, a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, returning to the balcony where the sunrise was creeping up on the city. He used to do this back in high school, when he was still playing Dungeons & Dragons, drawing different maps and monsters for each session. It almost felt liberating, skimming the ashy tip of the pencil along the paper. He hadn't done anything creative in months, he'd only kept the same routine every day. Maybe it was time to change that. Maybe it was time to stop moping around and improve some things.

.•♫•♬•

''There you go, sir. Have a nice day!'' Robin piped out next to you, handing a middle aged guy in a very expensive looking suit his go-to espresso, to which he didn't even respond to as he kept typing away on his phone. When he was out the door, Robin rolled her eyes and muttered ''Asshole.''

You snorted, grateful for he company and for the fact that the café was pretty busy today, you could use the distraction. You woke up this morning to two text messages, one from your co-worker asking for you to fill in for her today as she had to take her dog to the vet and another was from him. You didn't open his text yet and you couldn't see it from the preview either, because he had sent a photo right after the text, so the screen just said ''Sent a photo.''

You were itching to know what could he have possibly sent, but you purposefully kept your phone at your locker today. Still feeling iffy about the situation, you hadn't mentioned the call thing to Robin, but you did fill her casually in on your texting to which in return you got a confirmation that her and Cherry were indeed now girlfriends.

''Ugh, she asked me after the show - which was amazing, by the way - and I had to say yes. You just can't say no to her,'' she kept babbling while putting a new tray full of frozen croissants to the oven.

You were re-filling the espresso machine with new beans. ''What show was it anyway?''

Robin closed the oven door with her hip while pulling the oven mitts off. ''I don't really remember, coffin something. Cherry loves them, that's why we went. It was real heavy, the singer was pretty cool though, straight from the 80s.''

''What do you mean?'' you asked.

''He had long hair, so he looked like Bon Jovi or something. I mean it was cool, but you don't see that look every day.'' she replied, straightening her apron and greeting another customer who'd just stepped in.

You hummed in response and proceeded to the cash register to take new orders. The day flew by and by the time you only had 20 minutes left, Robin was at the back, emptying the dishwasher and you were counting cash when the door opened again. You vaguely remembered her hair color and her wine red lipgloss, so it wasn't too hard to recognize Cherry when she strolled in.

''Hey, I'm Cherry.''

You accepted her outstretched palm and shook her hand. ''Y/N. Nice to finally meet you, for real this time.''

''Same here,'' she smiled ''Though I feel like I know you already. Robin talks about you a lot and I already know you can't handle more than two drinks.''

''And three tequila shots!'' you returned her smile and Robin came busting out the back, rushing past the counter and throwing her arms around Cherry, pecking her cheek.

''Glad the introductions are over,'' she quipped and turned to Cherry ''missed you, by the way.''

''Gross.'' you joked, which ended up with Robin's apron in your face.

''Ha-ha. Would you mind if-''

Before she could finish her sentence, you dismissed her with a hand swipe. ''Yeah yeah, I can finish up here.''

''You're an angel. You know I'd do the same for you if you weren't single and lonely!'' Robin snickered and you fake gasped, but they were out the door before you could say anything back, waving at you from the outside.

''Idiot.''

You grabbed your things from your locker and closed the café, stepping out onto a golden sunset. You walked along the streets leading to your apartment building, passing a bus stop with a big poster on it, the deep rich colors popping and a guy in the middle of it, clutching a guitar. You recalled your conversation with Robin from earlier. Coffin something, a singer with long hair. The name on the poster said Corroded Coffin and the guy on the poster did seem like he could be from the 80s.

Not thinking much of it, you finally decide to take a look at your phone. Besides the two texts, your breath hitched when you noticed there was a missed call as well, 4 hours ago. You checked out the messages first and opened the photo he had sent. It was a picture of a sketch, what could immediately be recognized as the New York skyline. It was nice too, the lines were sharp, it was pretty detailed too.

7.21am - Kirk ''I'm an asshole and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I panicked at the last second. It's a shitty excuse but it's the truth. I'm really sorry, I'd love to talk to you if I could have another chance. I couldn't sleep all night, so I drew this for you as an apology. It's not great, but I hope you accept.''

8.01pm - Kiwi 'It's a great sketch, btw.''

It didn't even take him a second to hit you back.

8.01pm - Kirk ' 'God, I thought you'd blocked me.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''I'm still thinking about it. I'm convinced you're a catfish.''

8.02pm - Kirk ''I promise I'm not.''

8.02pm - Kiwi ''Okay, prove it.''

8.03pm - Kirk ''How would I do that?''

8.05pm - Kiwi ''I'm sure you can figure it out.''

.•♫•♬•

What the hell was he going to do? He was convinced you had blocked him last night. He sent you the text this morning and for more than 12 hours it was only showing as 'sent.' Not received, not read, nothing. Now reading you thought he was catfishing you, Eddie needed to prove to you that he was real and that he was serious this time.

Without thinking much of it, he dialed your number again and waited as it rang. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder and made his way to the dressing room bathroom, locking himself in to give him some sort of privacy.

The phone kept ringing and ringing. Were you punishing him for not picking up? He wouldn't hold it against you, he kind of deserves it. Besides, Eddie loves a woman who can beat him up.

Finally, after he had already given up hope, the line clicked and he heard your voice again. ''Yes?''

Eddie could also hear cars driving in the background, your breathing was a bit quicker than normal, a little shallow. You were outside somewhere.

''Is this proof enough?'' he asked, barely breathing.

''You could still be some weirdo, but I'll let you off the hook for now. Hi.'' Eddie thought he could hear a smile in your voice.

''Hi,'' he sighed, shoulder relaxing where he was leaning against the door. ''How are you?''

''I'm fine,'' you replied. ''I just got off work, I'm walking home.''

''I thought you had the day off.''

''I did,'' you sighed, some shuffling coming from your side. ''A co-worker asked me to switch, so I did.''

''That's generous of you, are you always this nice?'' Eddie teased.

''You tell me,'' you quipped back, matching his energy right away. He liked that, a lot. He liked you.

''I'd say so. You gave me another shot, though you didn't have to.''

''Don't waste it. I normally don't give second chances.''

Eddie chuckled, ''I won't. Can I ask you something?''

''Shoot,'' you agreed.

''Do you, like.. recognize my voice?'' he cringed. ''It's a silly thing to ask, 'm sorry.''

You laughed and the sound danced around his brain, shooting a bunch of endorphins into his belly. He hoped it wasn't weird to picture you based on your voice alone, but you sounded pretty.

''No...'' trailing off, but quickly you recouped ''So you're a musician then?''

''Uhh... maybe.''

''That's cool! Don't worry, unless you're in an 80s indie band or a 90s boyband, I probably don't know you, sorry!''

''Is that the only stuff you listen to?'' Eddie asked incredulously.

''Hey, I like what I like!'' you defended and he could hear the slight creak of a door and soft steps that became a bit louder, like you were climbing some stairs. The call crackled for a second and then he could hear keys jingling and the unlocking of another door.

''You made it home?'' he quizzed, destined to make sure you were alright.

''Yeah, finally. Now I have a three day weekend!''

''Cool! What are you pl-''

Before Eddie could finish his question, he was startled by the banging behind him, the door he was leaning against shaking under his back. He quickly covered the microphone, holding the device against his chest. ''Eddie, you in there man? We gotta start getting ready.''

It was their drummer asking. Eddie shushed him and told him he was on the phone. The drummer replied with a dishonest 'sorry' and left him be.

''Um, sorry about that. Shit.'' Eddie apologized and wondered if you heard anything.

''Don't worry about it, Eddie.'' you shot back and he could almost see the grin on your face. Why did it seem like you had the upper hand every time?

''Hmm, you got me. Now you tell me your name,'' he challenged.

''I thought you already named me,'' you shot back, your voice suddenly so sweet and innocent.

''Oh, come on. That's not fair.''

''I don't think you've earned it yet.'' Something about that sentence made him twitch in his pants. Fuck. He wanted to earn your name, something else too. Your voice was sultry, the tone of it sticking to his brain like honey. He needed more of it, he needed to keep you talking. He was in a trance almost.

''Making me work for it?'' he prompted, closing his eyes and leaning his head back, resting it on the door.

''You bet. I come with a price, you know.'' You joked.

''I'm willing to pay.'' Eddie replied, dead serious.

.•♫•♬•

Your phone call with Eddie, as you now know him, ended pretty abruptly after that. He got interrupted again and he had to go, to start getting ready for the show you supposed. For exactly two seconds after you hung up, you thought about googling him, but decided against it just as fast as that. You wanted to get to know him personally, not through tabloids.

Your body was thrumming however, your cheeks felt hot to the touch and there was the tiniest vibration between your thighs. You needed a cold shower, asap. You didn't expect the talk to excite you that much, but his voice was something else. Smooth, raspy at times when he lowered his tone. A bit more nasally when he got excited. You wanted to hear it again, teasing you. You wondered what he sounded in person, what his laugh was like, what sounded like when he was out of breath, gasping in your ear.

Stop, you scolded yourself and hurried in removing your work clothes and dumping them in the laundry basket. You took a cool shower to calm down, changed into silky pajamas, then popped a frozen pizza into the pre-heated oven and set the timer to 15 minutes. While you waited for dinner to be ready, you occupied yourself with finding a good movie to watch while you ate, poured a glass of water and changed Eddie's contact name on your phone. Watching a movie should keep you distracted for a few hours, until Eddie was free to call again, which would presumably be in the early hours of the night.

When the movie finally finished, you were full and hydrated. It was only a quarter past eleven so you still had a couple more hours to kill. You decided to move to be this time, grabbing an unfinished book from your desk and settled in under the covers. You turned on the reading lamp on the bedside table and kept your phone close to you. Soon enough, you were submerged in the book, the scene written on the page getting spicier. You gulped as you read how the main characters were ripping each others clothes off, devouring one another. You had a perfect picture in your head, the words coming alive in front of you, envisioning the guy eating out his girl the way the author had put it in the book. Shit, your thighs clenched at the thought of someone doing that to you.

You jumped when your phone vibrated against your bare thigh, slapping the book shut abruptly.

''Hello?'' you answered, trying to calm your breathing.

''Hey, what's up?'' Eddie asked, sounding a little out of breath himself.

''Oh, um, I was just reading a book.''

''What's it about?''

You cleared your throat, ''J-just some rom com, don't think you'd be interested.''

''You alright over there?'' Eddie quipped, chuckling softly.

''I'm fine, totally fine.''

''Uh-uh,'' Eddie sounded totally unconvinced ''tell me what you were reading.''

''Why?'' you were growing nervous.

''You're basically hyperventilating, that must be some book. Was it scary?''

''No.''

''Erotic?'' he joked, chuckling.

You remained quiet, the words dying on your tongue.

''Oh, it was.'' Eddie mused, his voice lower now. ''What were they doing?''

''They were just kissing and stuff,'' you whispered like you were scared someone would overhear, chewing on your bottom lip as a nervous habit.

''Did some simple kissing get you that worked up, baby?''

Baby. He was doing nothing but enhancing the tingling in your white cotton panties.

''No,'' you breathe, rubbing your thighs together at this point.

''Hmm.. Were they doing more? Having sex?'' he spoke and you could hear faint shuffling on his side, then the soft close of a door.

''Not exactly.''

''No? What then? Don't be shy.''

You squeezed your eyes shut, somehow embarrassed like the whole world could see you right now. You took a shaky breath in and quickly blurted out ''He was eating her out.''

There was a small pause before Eddie hummed. ''And how did that make you feel?''

''Good,'' you replied.

''Just good?''

You whimpered. He was toying with you, pulling your strings but you didn't want him to stop either. You switched the phone to your left hand, to free your dominant hand to caress your stomach, occasionally dipping lower. ''Aroused.''

''What are you doing right now?'' Eddies breathing sounded heavier now, too. His voice has a raspier edge than before.

''Rubbing my thighs,'' you sighed. The feeling of your palm sliding over the inside of your thighs felt nice, for a while. There was a warm wet patch on your panties, too.

''Shit. Lay down for me.''

You did as he told, scooting lower on the bed until you were horizontal. ''Okay.''

''Good girl,'' he praised.

Jesus Christ. No one had ever talked to you like that, you'd only read that in your books. Those words sent a jolt straight to your pussy.

''Want you to touch yourself, can you do that for me?''

''Y-yeah,'' you hiccupped, guiding your hand under your pajama pants and skipping your panties too, cupping your mound and feeling the gathered wetness there.

''Doing so good for me, honey. Touch your little pussy for me, tell me how wet you are.''

You couldn't hold back the moan that bubbled up as you followed his instructions, sliding your fingers easily through your blazing folds due to the slickness. ''S-so wet, Eddie.''

''Fuck,'' he groaned. ''Wish I could be there, need to see it for myself. Would you want that?''

''Yes, Eddie!'' you wailed, gliding your wet fingers down your slit, then back up again and focusing on your puffy clit, pulsing with want. You circled your clit with your middle fingers, putting the phone on speaker and dumping it next to your head so you could use your other hand to slide it under your shirt to thumb your nipple, adding even more pleasure.

''Would you let me eat your pussy, too? Let me tongue fuck your little hole?'' Your cunt clenched just at the thought of having his warm muscle shoved deep into it. It was begging to be filled, hungry for it. You found your weeping hole and pushed your middle finger in, moaning at the stretch. Eddie meanwhile continued his verbal assault. ''Fuck, baby I'd lick you so good if you'd let me have the honor. I bet you're already knuckles deep in your pussy, aren't you?''

You could only cry out ''uh uh'' as you added another finger, pushing them as far as you could reach, curling them upward to graze that one and only spot.

''Good fucking girl. Keep punishing that tight hole for me. I know it's so tight, would barely fit my fat cock. Shit. I wanna fill you up, fuck you 'til your crying, begging for me to stop. But I wouldn't stop until you were stuffed full of my cum - you want that baby? Wanna be so filled with my cum that it's flowing out of your abused hole, huh? Leaking down your crack, I'd clean you right up.''

''Eddie, oh my God!'' you cried, tears stinging your eyes as you thrashed around, your clothes sticking to your sweaty body. Fucking your fingers in and out, you pressed your palm down to add more pressure to your clit, building up your high.

''You close, sweetheart? Wanna hear you cum, you sound so fucking perfect already. Keep working those fingers, don't stop.''

''Fuckuckfuck, I'm cumming. Ohmygod.'' Your high hit and you lost all vision, only listening to Eddie talk you through it, telling you what a good girl you were, how proud he was, how good you sounded.

When you came down, you carefully withdrew your fingers and wiped them clean on your pants, trying to catch your breath.

''My name's Y/N, by the way.''

On the other side, Eddie burst out laughing.

[hugemilkshake]

Oh, I have an idea

Make a Shadow Milk cookie Yandere with the addition of HYPNOTISM.

Please 🙂

MMMMMM I was low-key going to do this like on my own but ya beat me to it but this will be structured like a normal yandere headcannon. But I did enjoy writing this it was fun :3

But I hope you enjoy your milkshake

Yandere Shadow Milk Cookie

Second part

-Romantic or Platonic insulation-

!TW! Under the cut there are themes like obsession, possessiveness, warping one’s reality and hypnosis

The Faerie Kingdom, it was a lovely sight to take in! All the faeries seemed really chill about you and your friends arrival

And you couldn’t help but marvel at the slivery tree that was right in the center of the Kingdom

The way the light shines on it was breathtaking, but little did you know, it’s history was not as pretty.

A dark evil was sealed into the tree eons ago.

Beasts. That’s all they will be. Beasts.

But you didn’t know that

You stood side by side with your friends as a rift in the once beautiful tree opened

A jester like character popped out of the tree like a Jack in the box.

The beast proclaimed that he was Shadow Milk Cookie, the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown and trickster

This situation was unsettling, this jester was able to snake his way into Pure Vanillas and the faeries minds, the same thing could happen to you…

You didn’t catch Shadow Milk Cookies attention at first

You were just a meaningless cookie, he was here for Pure Vanilla and Elder Faerie

But the way you were willing to help Elder Faerie seal him back up could be some what admirable

But what really caught his eye was how you put yourself in front of the young cookies in the face of danger

You were willing to put your life on the line for these cookies who are probably just dead weight

That’s something that could be used to his advantage

So once Elder Faerie Is out of the picture, he could finally start twisting your sweet little reality

But he wasn’t expecting to get an attachment to you in such a short amount of time

Now he could just make you into one of his shadow puppets and you’d obey his every wish and command with no problems

But that wouldn’t be fun would it?

You were walking with your friends when everything got dizzy

You swore you heard his laughter.

Everyone was worried, Pure Vanilla especially

“Y/N Cookie are you alright?”

No, no you weren’t fine

Pure Vanilla rested his hand on your shoulder

“Listen, when I’m around no one will hurt you”

His voice. It wasn’t his. It was Shadow Milk Cookies

You flinched away, everything was twisting and turning. You couldn’t tell what was real and what was fake

You… you needed space.

That was your mistake, you wondered away from the group… unprotected, unsuspecting.

Shadow Milk Cookie approached you, he told you lies, truths that were to good to believe.

You knew he was just toying with your mind, his offers were meant nothing to you, they were just empty promises.

When you refused his countless offers, he was annoyed. You could be a GOD compared to these… these FOOLS!

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t want to have to do this but his deceitful nature was playing against his favor

He reached out and grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, directly in his eyes

His eyes were so… hypnotic, you couldn’t look away…

You couldn’t look away…

Shadow Milk Cookies words were so… charming… you couldn’t help but think that your friends were in the wrong…

Well you thought that until you met back up with your friends… their voices pulled you out of that hypnotic trance

This ticked Shadow Milk Cookie off

You were supposed to listen to him, not any of those imbeciles

Well, Shadow Milk Cookie had to result to making you a shadow puppet, the easy way out

All you were now was a mindless puppet

How boring

You were by his side the whole time after that

He didn’t want your so called “friends” to take you away from him

Everything was PERFECT, he was free, he had a new best buddy by his side and all of the power he wanted at his fingertips!

Wlhat could go wrong?

White Lily Cookie… oh that CURSED LITTLE COOKIE

She sealed him back up…

SHE SEALED HIM BACK UP

Shadow Milk Cookie tried to take you with him, his strings were wrapped around you, desperately trying to pull you back into the tree with him

But your friends held you back, you didn’t get pulled into the tree

Shadow Milk Cookie looked at the inside of the seal, he was… devastated… not because he lost… but because he lost YOU

Shadow Milk sat there… unresponsive. Unmoving.

He was going to get you back.

Even if it meant destroying his fellow beasts in the process

[scuttlingcrab]

A Devil's Lament

Summary: Raphael brings Tav to an abandoned chapel, hoping to complete one final task before he begins his conquests of the Hells.

Notes: I was inspired by my friend Mark Choi and his announcement of a new piano arrangement of "Down By The River." I desperately needed to see Raphael playing not just a piano, but a pipe organ. And what would suit the occasion? Our favourite Devil playing a song he had composed over a millenia ago, after he first lost the Crown of Karsus...

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

There once stood a magnificent chapel along the road to Baldur’s Gate. Mortals came from far and wide to bask in its glory, seek refuge from whatever sorrows afflicted them, and pray to the deity it was erected to honour. However, like most beautiful things on this plane, it was slowly worn down from one conflict after another, until it merely stood as a dilapidated relic of a time gone by.

On a particularly humid evening, nearly one year after the Elder Brain’s assault on Faerûn, Raphael found himself with Tav on the outskirts of the chapel, staring fondly at his old stomping grounds. No place was off limits when it came to his Devilish business, and the various religious structures scattered across the realms always proved to be the most lucrative. Raphael partook in his favourite game of hunting mortals in the very establishments they trusted, luring them into his traps with fanciful proposals of fortune and glory. 

The Devil never settled on the weaker creatures unless there were no other alternatives, but it was the clerics and overly righteous he craved. There was nothing more joyous than watching their resolve slowly decay after his cunning verbiage and skillful charms got under their skins. Their potent souls were simply delectable, and worth all the time and effort to acquire them.

“So what are you planning?” Tav asked, stopping Raphael from reminiscing any further. “I thought you said we had no time to waste.” 

“Walk with me, if you will, there is a final task I must complete before we are to continue.” 

Raphael had already started on the path ahead and Tav quickly jogged to keep up, the stones crunching beneath her boots. He smiled to himself at the notion of her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, running after him.

As Raphael strode through the remains of the toppled structure, he searched for something far more valuable than the achievements of past meals. Raphael was after the heart and soul of the old chapel, the instrument responsible for the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his lifetime. The chapel’s pipe organ.

He heaved a sigh of relief to find the instrument still nestled at the far end of the rubble, under a canopy of overgrown trees. He had not been back since the fight against the Absolute, and in truth feared for the worst. Raphael would never let that spectacular creation suffer the same fate due to the failures of mortalkind, but he too had neglected it; spending the last few months muddled in the intricacies of reforging the Crown of Karsus.

The Devil had often argued with himself about whether or not to bring the pipe organ to the House of Hope. He had an idyllic place for it on his atelier balcony, overlooking the River Styx and barren wastelands of Avernus. But doing so would open him up to countless interruptions and he’d lose what he valued most: his precious solitude. He would never risk it.

“A marvel…” Raphael whispered, tilting his head up to admire the towering organ, the 3,000 golden pipes glistening in the darkness. 

His eyes attentively moved across the pipes, carefully inspecting every surface for signs of damage. It was no secret that Raphael cherished the instrument, nearly as much as the Crown he had desired for over a millenia. It was Raphael’s own toy box, it could imitate nearly any orchestral instrument with just a few minute actions unnoticeable to the common mortal. The organ could do wonders above and beyond any grand piano, or even any symphony. With this tool, Raphael was his own maestro, having the power to freely weave his own melodies into existence and escape into the futures he so desperately desired. 

“This hunk of junk? It’s practically falling apart.” 

“I will not hear another peep from you.”  Raphael hissed, turning to face Tav. He raised his finger threateningly towards her, as if scolding a small child. 

Tav raised both of her hands apologetically, though there was still a hint of impishness in her smile as she took a step back.

“Sorry. Carry on then…” 

Raphael sniffed sharply, in an attempt to keep his infernal flames at bay. As powerful and useful as that mortal was, she was a constant irritant; pushing Raphael closer and closer to his boiling point the more time he spent with her. And yet, they were inseparable since Tav had gifted the Crown to Raphael. Of all the creatures, in all the wretched planes, that little mouse had to be the one to fall into his claws, leaving a lasting effect on him.

He quickly redirected his attention to the pipe organ, brushing off the rotten twigs and dirt from the three keyboards. He snapped his fingers and a leather bench appeared, replacing the one that had broken long ago. 

Raphael eagerly took his seat, lightly running his feet over the pedalboard to test it was still functional. He then prepared the various stops along the edges of the organ, choosing his intended octaves for the serenade to come. 

After a few more minutes of fiddling with the organ, making sure all the divisionals were arranged accordingly, he was ready to begin. 

With another snap of Raphael’s fingers, sheet music took shape before him. The chosen melody had been etched into his memory for a thousand years, yet he still brought out the yellowing sheets of paper whenever he dared to play it. Like the ruins surrounding him, the pages were close to deteriorating, slowly withering away at the edges. 

The music notes were barely legible, the ink having faded a century or two earlier. Raphael dared not handle the pages by hand, as they would crumble at the slightest touch. Seeing the pages again were oddly comforting to the Devil, a sign of how far he has come. As painful as it was to revisit the meaning behind the music, the moment would always be part of Raphael, no matter how often he tried to consign it to oblivion. 

The Devil took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against the keys. His exhale matched the roaring bellow that emerged from the pipes. Energy surged through his hands as he played the beginning of the piece, his feet moving to a completely different rhythm against the pedalboard. The low notes coming from his feet accompanied the lighter ones from his fingers, creating a flawless harmony. 

The sounds of the pipe organ soon filled the air, echoing around him like lost ghosts wailing in the dark. It was haunting, exquisite, and a perfect representation of his internal strife. It was Raphael’s lament - the anguish, vexations, and seething hatred from all the years of his existence poured through his own spirit into the instrument. The reverberations from the pipes shook the trees above Raphael, causing the leaves to fall like snowflakes. 

These same feelings had fuelled Raphael’s drive and ambition since he was a young Devil. He was discarded by Mephistopheles and left to rot in the deepest, darkest parts of the Hells; forced to suffer for a sin he had not committed. Raphael still found his way, against all odds, and survived every obstacle thrown at him. He learned how to rely only on himself, to play the game of the Hells, and quickly rise up the ranks by tipping the scales in his favour. He had ruthlessly betrayed allies and levelled entire cities, and he would do it a hundred times over if it meant he was closer to fulfilling his destiny of uniting the Nine Hells. He would show his father how powerful and capable he truly was. 

As Raphael continued, he let himself get lost in the tempo, not questioning where his hands went next, which stops he pulled, or where his feet would take him. He soon found the keyboards were wet, had it begun to rain? He closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat as decades worth of repressed emotions started to bubble to the top. He felt his fingers slip on a key, and then another, causing him to miss a few notes, but he quickly amended the mistake. He opened his eyes in fury, only to realise that he was crying. He clenched his jaw, causing the tears falling down his cheeks to quickly evaporate as his body sizzled in anger; resenting himself and the situation, always such a fool to let these fleeting emotions get the best of him. 

He wasn't sure how long he had been playing, but his fingers throbbed as they continued to press against the keys. He wanted to continue, to replay the song again and again, to make sure it was perfect, but it was coming to its natural conclusion. He would need to leave it as is.

Raphael played the final notes, holding his fingers to the keys for an extra beat as the sounds slowly faded. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hands. He lifted it up towards the music sheets and let the edges of the papers catch fire. The pages were devoured by the flames within a matter of seconds. Let the ashes of his lament stay within the ruins of the chapel.

“Gods…” Tav whispered, her voice choking with emotion. “Did you…?”

“I have never played that in front of another mortal. The first and last time you will ever hear such a piece.” 

“It was remarkable.”

“I know.” Raphael responded, rising from the bench.

He flicked his wrist and the Crown of Karsus materialised before them. He caught reflections of himself in the Crown as he stared at it, his visage splitting into broken shards against the material of the relic. Different versions of Raphael stared back at him, as if from alternate timelines, offering a range of glimpses into his future. He smiled at the reflections and the thought of what he might look like donning the Crown, fighting against Zariel and her forces, in all his glory. 

“It was a fitting farewell and one I had been looking forward to for a considerable amount of time. Now onto new beginnings, come.”

Tav didn’t wait for Raphael to create a portal, she jumped towards him, latching on to his arm. On previous occasions he would’ve shooed her away, like an irksome mosquito, but he let her stay clinging to him. Just this once, perhaps for his own comfort.

Tonight Raphael would write a different composition - one of celebration and conquest, that he would play throughout the decades to come, solidifying his reign.

[sailor24love]

LV Trainer Sneaker & Shoe box

71 Swatches

Found under sneakers

Deco sneaker included

Shoe box has 6 swatches and are stackable. Deco shoe can also be placed on top of the box

Infant, Tutelar, Teens, Young Adults, Adults, Elder

Please don't reupload to any other site, file share folder or and claim as your own. Recolors allowed only for personal use.

Any problems, feedback, or suggestions feel free to message me. Also I would love to see your sims in my cc so feel free to tag me in any post on Tumblr

Link [ Download ]