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helluvapoison · 4 months

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Hey can you write headcanons for alastor, angel dust(both platonic) and sir pentious (romantic) with a gen z/millennial reader? Just general stuff and interactions (like maybe talking about how things are for the lgbt community with angel and talking to alastor about gramophones and how they're coming back in style) and just some shenanigans

I know you don't have these characters listed in your writing list, and it's completely fine if you cant write for them but i love your writing style and characterization so I wanted to know how you'd imagine things would go

Alastor, Angel Dust (platonic) and Sir Pentious (romantic) x Reader

˚✧₊⁎ Alastor ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• “Hey Al! Loving the drip, it’s giving strawberry cow meets dark academia core.”

• Now he knows what others feel like when speaking to Zestial. He doesn’t understand half of what you say

• You taught him “tea”. Originally he thought you were providing real tea, something useful, not tedious gossip about— Oh. Oh. That could come in handy, actually. Alastor begins to pencil you into his afternoon tea. Sometimes you bring him useful information, others he has to sit through petty issues that make his eye twitch

• Alastor outright bans you from using your phone around him. He has no interest in this “meme” that reminds you of him (Don’t bring it out again, next time he’ll break it)

You groan, “It’s not as funny if I have to explain it!”

“It must not be very humorous in the first place.” He retorts

• He thinks you’re complimenting his taste in decor when you call it vintage

• You’ve proven yourself a useful acquaintance. Like Nifty, he’s grown accustomed to your presence and learned it may be better not to understand the inner workings of your mind

• “Got any aces?” someone asks while you play Go Fish with Husk, Angel and Sir Pina Colada. You never fail to jab a thumb in Alastor’s direction, cackling and kicking your feet

• They give you a peculiar look in reply

“Fuck you guys, I ate.”

• Yeah, they don’t get that one either

˚✧₊⁎ Angel Dust ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• It feels like every day Angel’s mid-insult and snapping his fingers at you, beckoning for you to conjure up a fresh comeback

• “Ooh! You just got cancelled, take the L, you fucking poser!”

He cackles, “Yeah! What they said!”

• Started calling himself an e-girl because you said it once about Charlie and never elaborated. He thinks it means cute… He’s not wrong? You don’t correct him, it’s funnier this way

• Playful arguments 24/7

“RIP, Angel, you would have loved Mean Girls— Wait, if a movie dies would it come to Hell? Never mind, don’t answer that, it would obviously go to Heaven.”

“I’ve met some real weirdos down here, sweetheart, and you outrank almost all of ‘em.”

• Something Angel noticed he could only appreciate from you is how different you react to his relationship with Val. He already knows it’s not healthy and he knows he gets defensive when people bring it up. Like the others, you listen, you comfort, you get furious on his behalf. You also offer him insight and labels he never thought would be helpful

• You hold up two fingers like you’re conducting an orchestra as you speak, “Say it with me; boundaries, bitch.”

“Boundaries..? S’at like bondage–?”

”NO!”

• Angel’s the only one that makes HellToks with you. The dances he learns faster and performs them better than you, often adding his own choreography to them. The “pass the phone” challenges never end well– especially when he tries to rope Nifty or Alastor in on them (RIP your old phone)

• Honestly, you’re pretty surprised you get along with Angel as well as you do. Y’know, considering he died a thousand years before you—

“I ain’t that old!”

“Your death certificate says otherwise, fam!”

˚✧₊⁎ Sir Pentious ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s not sure how to handle how touchy you are first. You go around high-fiving everyone, freely holding hands with whoever lets you, offering hugs and– thump. Your head hits his lap, staring straight right at him with a goofy grin. And that.

• “Say slay,”

“Sssslay?”

• Oh. He quite likes the laugh that gets out of you

• Starts saying the word as much as possible, puffing his chest out proudly when you double over laughing. You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s using it wrong 99.9% of the time

• When you began consistently picking him for a chair instead of the others, he was stuck between throwing you across the room and making a break for it or pointing and laughing in the faces of everyone else. You chose him! HA!

• Bless his soul, the way he asked you out was so sweet

“I’ve done extensive research and found the equivalent of going sssteady in your language! I would like for us to move forward with the relationship ssstatus.”

“Huh? Oh. You want to go out with me? Yeah!”

“Fuck yesss!“

• Pentious gives ride or die a new definition. Everything you say or you do, he will back you up. His eyes sparkle from the praise you give him

• That, and making him blush takes little effort on your part. Complimenting him like you always do (at least he thinks you are, sometimes he’s not certain) has his cheeks glowing in seconds

• After following you around for an hour, because Pentious wanted to make sure you could get along with the Egg Boiz without him, they adopt bits of your personality and bizarre phrases. “Now we have two parents!” “No cap!” “Yes cap, you’re wearing a hat!”

• You’ve single handedly make the Egg Boiz worse in the eyes of everyone but Pen. He’s ecstatic over the results, he doesn’t know what he would do if he had to choose between you and his eggs

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ this was so silly and fun, i hope you enjoy anon!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor headcanons #alastor x reader #angel dust headcanon #angel dust x reader #sir pentious imagine #sir pentious x reader #hazbin sir pentious #platonic or romantic

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moralesmilesanhour · 1 year

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teamwork (makes the dream work...?)

genre: enemies to lovers I guess? I'm bad at these 😭

summary: one week, your usual work partner is absent, so instead you are seated next to a genius with attitude problems. it happens.

wc: ~500

A/N: if i can manage to be consistent for once, this will probably be a series because I haven't done one in a while. pls feel free to leave your reactions in the tags or comments! happy reading 🫶🏾

next see all parts in my masterlist!

Sunlight filtered through the large classroom window. Usually, you'd be seated right by it, letting the rays warm your face in the air-conditioned room.

Not today. Your usual partner was out sick, so you were moved to the back of the classroom. Blocking out the sunshine was the silhouette of a boy you had only seen in the hallways once or twice.

He had deep brown skin, with two neat cornrows cascading down either side of his neck and brushing his shoulders. You also made out an undercut, faded cleanly beneath the braids. There was a case meant for holding glasses sitting at the front of his desk, but no spectacles sitting on his prominent nose.

The boy was bent over his worksheet already, arm covering the page.

"Hey," you said with a pleasant upturn in your voice. A full thirty seconds passed. He didn't answer, so you try again.

"Um, excuse me-"

"I heard you."

The boy kept his eyes on his desk, brows knitted together with focus. He was making broad, sharp strokes with his pencil. His elbow moved for a moment, revealing not a sheet of math problems, but a piece of printer paper filled with intricate geometric designs. Precise lines come together to create the form of a caped figure. It has large, mechanical claws and a mask with sharp, wide eyes.

"That's a cool drawing," you commented. The boy's shoulders jumped to his ears as if he'd been caught before dropping back down. He finally looked up from the page and paused. Wide, brown eyes flickered across your face, trying to determine what to make of you.

"Thanks," was all that the boy said before returning to his sketching. It wasn't long before you interrupted him again.

"You not gonna finish your work?"

"I'm already done, that's why Ms. Jones put me back here and let me rock."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me," you muttered to yourself.

You messed with the sleeve of your royal blue uniform blazer in silence, weighing your options. Ms. Jones wasn't going to let you turn in another incomplete assignment, and this kid couldn't even be assed to say 'hello'. A deep sigh escapes your lips.

"Can I get your name, at least?"

The boy set his pen down with a slam, and looked up at you as if he'd just been asked what color the sky was.

"Morales," he deadpanned, with a slight roll on the 'r'.

"Which Morales?"

"Miles."

You hummed in slight recognition, having heard the name somewhere before, murmured next to you in passing.

"You Dominican?"

"Puerto Rican."

"Oh, cool."

"M-hm."

He picked up his pen again and began to twirl it between his pointer and middle finger, but held your gaze. You looked like you were finally about to get to the actual question.

"Well, Morales," you began with a smile.

Here it comes.

"Since you're done, can you help me with-"

"No."

You scoffed, "What's the point of being partners, then?"

Miles had already returned to his original position, scribbling away. He didn't look at you, this time.

"We not partners, ma."

...And so began the longest school week of your life.

#miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #moralesanhour

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thefaefiction · 1 year

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In Too Deep. [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston x Reader GENRE: Smut !! WARNINGS: Age gap, teacher x student relationship, smut, daddy kink, praise, piv sex, choking, degradation if you squint, aftercare, fem!reader, written with a chubbier reader in mind but it's not obvious, also the beginning is rushed SUMMARY: After developing an intense relationship with your English professor Mr. Hiddleston, you both are in too deep to let it go to waste.

A/N: im not gonna lie i had no clue how to actually begin this fic because it's literally just an excuse for me to indulge in my delusions so sorry that the first couple paragraphs are weird and rushed </3 also the school email domain is fake idk if it's real don't pay attention to it LMAO

Your obsession with your English professor was no secret to your friends. Elio, your long term best friend and dormmate, has had to interrupt you from your delusions on more than one occasion which was already one too many -- whether that be purposefully failing a paper to see him after class, wearing a skirt far too short and dropping a pencil in a calculated manner in front of him, or staring at him a little too intently during lectures -- it was becoming a problem.

In the professor's multiple classes of forty-some-odd students, there really were only a few that were delusional enough to believe they could sleep with their teacher. The difference between you and them was that you were patient with your actions and the effects it had on him.

Ultimately your patience paid off, as one Friday you received an ominous email with the heading titled 'Make-up Work' from a particular '[email protected].' In the details, he simply requested your presence at a disclosed location only ten minutes from campus on Sunday. It was not an office nor a dorm, but a house.

It wasn't long before his intentions were made clear when you arrived; his eyes dark with lust and a half buttoned shirt upon opening the door.

"(Y/N)," He welcomed, cocking his head and shutting the door behind you. "Lovely to see you."

"Pleasure's mine," You reply, never breaking eye contact. You slide your coat off and he takes it in his hands, hanging it up for you. You knew where the night was going to end -- inviting a student to talk not just outside of office hours, but in the professor's home, is not something usual.

"I thought we could discuss an appropriate way to help get your grade back up in my class," He begins. His eyes look down for a moment, observing your obviously risqué attire. "Do you have an idea as to what way that might be?"

He was going to make you say it. There was no way around it. Still, you decided to entertain his antics until it was made painfully and obviously clear he was trying to get you to say what you know he wants you to say.

"I think," You start, voice beginning to shake. The confidence you had starting this endeavor was suddenly challenged. "I think one-on-one time is certainly needed." You press your lips together in a line.

He hums, taking an agonizing step closer. He looks down into your eyes, furrowing his brows and letting out a soft laugh. "I'm not dumb, (Y/N)," he retorts. "I know you're a smart girl. You're excellent, actually -- some of the best writing from all of my classes combined." The professor stops, taking a step back to his original position. "So why are you really here?"

A moment of silence.

"You know why," You sheepishly croak out.

"Flatter me by saying it, then." He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for you to speak.

"I want you to fuck me."

With the words already said, there was no going back. Your chest sunk, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up and beginning to eat away at your skin. All of those feelings were put to rest the second your professor spoke: "Was that so hard to ask, love?"

Professor Hiddleston turned on his heel, two fingers signaling you to follow him like a lost puppy. He led you down a long hallway in painful silence, finally twisting the knob to a door that revealed his bedroom. It was sleek and clean, covered in shades of black and gray with no mess dared to be left out.

He shut the door behind you and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, holding your gaze with his light eyes. "Quickly," He commented. "I don't like waiting."

Your face flushed, embarrassed at his demand. You looked away and lifted the hem of your shirt-

"You will look at me," He orders, finishing the last button. "With how bold you are in my classroom I would've thought you'd take more control," He pokes, smirking. "Who would've thought you're just a shy little girl desperate for attention from her professor?"

Your thighs squeezed together, you're sure it doesn't go unnoticed as he grins the moment it occurs. You lift your top off as he watches, simultaneously beginning to unbuckle his belt. The sound makes you shiver.

"Good girl," He praises. You shiver in response.

As he tosses his belt to the side, you begin sliding your skirt off, letting it fall to the ground and pool at your feet. Your professor mimics with his slacks, walking closer and caressing your cheek. "Bed."

You obey, laying down on his duvet as he crawls up your body, sending shivers down your spine. "Professor-"

"Tom," He corrects. "No need for formalities at this point, yes?"

You blush before continuing. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I've been sure since the first time you tried to tease me in class," He replies. "I don't think you understand that I think about you every fucking night in my bed, about the things I would do if I were just able to have you."

You smile, your confidence returning almost instantly. "You have me, sir."

Tom grunts in the back of his throat, his body towering over you as he tears your underwear off, the cracking of the seams startling you. Immediately his hands find your sex, running his hands over it and around your thighs. His hands diligently run under your back, you arch, giving him easier access to remove your bra.

"God, you're stunning," He whispers before connecting his lips to yours. He pulls on your face, his teeth making contact with your lips and bruising their pink color in moments. As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths and you squirm beneath him.

Tom sits up and begins removing his boxers. The tent in them is noticeable -- and horrifying. You can tell he's big even without seeing it.

Not like you've thought about it before, though.

Now completely undressed, he puts his hands under your waist and drags you forward with a grunt. His hands dig at the fat of your hips and travel along your plush thighs, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers dance on your skin.

"Does my little girl need her professor's cock?" Tom provokes, sliding his shaft between your folds -- up and down, up and down, up and down.

You whine, nodding eagerly in hopes to get him to just put it in already, but your meek noise wasn't good enough for him. "Use your big girl words, darling." He puts his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, urging you to look at him him; eyes burning through your skull.

"Daddy," You spit out too quick, back arching. "Please, need you inside of me so bad!" The sheer volume of your pleas and the new title takes Tom aback, yet his cock ached with every sultry word you spoke.

"Good girl," He praises, grinning at you beneath him. You watch as he inserts himself, pressing just the head into your heat. You let out a guttural moan, eyebrows furrowing in a lovely mix of pain and pleasure. He begins slowly easing himself into you further, inch by agonizing inch, until he completely bottoms out; releasing a groan as his head lolls back. "God, you feel so good princess," He praises, "Taking me so so well, yeah?"

His words struck a chord within you, forcing a smile on your face. You whimper, brain not being able to form a complete thought at how deep he was inside you and how just damn good it felt. He was much bigger than anyone you'd taken before by a longshot. Your walls clenched around him and he laughed, cock twitching inside of you. He slowly slides back, leaving just the head in, and then pushes forward quickly, earning a loud, needy, moan from your lips. "Look at you, so drunk on me, hm?" He says, pulling back and then ramming himself deep into you, bruising your cervix. "Tell me what you want, doll. What is it you need from daddy?" He teases, never averting his eyes from your gaze.

"Please," You whine, "Need you to to move, need daddy to make me come!" And without hesitation, he picks up the pace, rapidly fucking you while his hands grip the headboard. You can hear it hitting the wall, and suddenly you're glad he has a house instead of an apartment. The noises you're making are obscene, something any practiced Catholic would need to cross themselves after hearing. "Feels so good daddy!" You spit, earning a groan from him.

Tom turned almost animalistic during sex; his grunts sounding more and more like growls as he fucks you brainless. "Fuck!" He moans, taking a hand off of the wood above you. He quickly puts his free hand on your throat, squeezing and forcing your eyes to meet his once again. "Like being choked by daddy, yeah? Like daddy to make you feel powerless, hm?" He smirks, observing the visual pleasure and shock on your face.

You're so close, you can feel yourself on the verge of your orgasm, and his dirty talk was pushing you even closer. The hand on your throat squeezed, and you clenched down on him, causing Tom to curse under his breath. "Want your cum daddy," You squeak out, "Pleasepleaseplease!" You mumble in strands of pleasure.

"Feel so good," He praises. "Come for me, be a good girl and come for daddy, yeah?" He was fucking you hard, and fast, and he still managed to pick up the pace. His skin slapped against your skin, filling the room with hard smacks and grunts and moans; endless strings of 'daddy' and 'good girl' running from both of your lips.

"Want you inside me daddy," You choke out. Your head lolls to the side and bounces against the pillow, a lazy smile forming on your face. "P-please!" You whine.

That pushed Tom over the edge. He was too far lost in himself, leaning down and growling into your ear. "Ask and you shall receive," he teases.

As if on cue, you both come together, the wave of pleasure rushing over you both. You could feel his warmth filling you up, leaking down your heat and spilling onto his bed. "Fuck, Y/n!" He grunts, "Took me so so well little girl."

You couldn't think, let alone speak. Tom stayed inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, not wanting the feeling of your sweet sex to leave him. He took his hand off of your throat and stroked the site, soothing the redness with a sultry kiss. You hummed in response, letting your body fall limp. After a few moments, he pulled out.

About three things Tom was absolutely certain: One, he should’ve never become romantically entangled with one of his students. Two, engaging in this behavior put his entire career in jeopardy due to it being wildly illegal. Three, he was, without a doubt in his mind, unconditionally in love with everything about you.

As you laid on his chest, foreheads drenched in sweat and bodies stuck together, you felt more at home than you'd like to admit. One hand messaged your back, drawing figure-eights on your skin, and the other pet your hair, occasionally drawing his lips close to kiss the top of your head. You burrowed your head into him, clinging onto his body. He grinned.

"I should've never let it go this far," Tom said, his voice raspy and deep with post-sex clarity, "but I'm afraid I'm in too deep to give it up now." He let out a low laugh, your head bouncing with his chest.

You smiled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to return to normal after this," You commented, "and, well, not to be dramatic but having sex with your professor twice your age does things to you." Tom chuckled, looking down at you and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

"This is all so wrong," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, "And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." He pressed a kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that left a permanent stain of love and lust on your mouth. It was deep, meaningful, and romantic. Tom stared at you, taking in your features and basking in each and every one. "You are breathtaking, darling."

You hid your face in his neck, attempting to suppress the toothy grin you'd almost shown him, however he pulls your head up with his pointer finger and thumb, admiring your rosy cheeks. "Poor baby, so sensitive to my compliments," He jests, letting out a low hum.

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not my fault that daddy somehow knows all of the words that light a fire in me," You emphasize on the word 'daddy,' which forces what sounded like a groan from the back of his throat. "I don't want to go," You admit, falling back into his embrace.

"I know love," He says calmly, stroking your hair and pulling you into him tight. "We can stay like this as long as you'd like, but eventually I'll have to bring you back."

You hum into just chest. "Just a little bit longer," you say to Tom. "I'm still recovering."

⟡

When you arrived back at your dorm, much later than you anticipated, Elio looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up," You laughed, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking off your shoes. You wobbled into the dorm, legs still sore and threatening your balance. Clearly Elio had noticed this, as the first thing he said after greeting you was "Well aren't your movements suspicious," and your cheeks flushed red. "I do not need to explain my late night endeavors and my later night actions," You began, "But,"

"But..?" Elio lead, leaning forward in his seat.

"But." You ended, pressing your lips together with a hidden grin and nodding your head.

"No!" He gasped, smiling widely and clasping his hands, putting his chin on the top of his fingers. "Please tell me everything! Not that I need to know the gory details of your sex life but, like, was he..?" Elio put his hands in front of him, fingers forward, and spread his arms apart.

"Shut up!" You giggled, swatting his hands. "But yes. Yes he was. Very."

"I knew it." He said, shaking his head. "I knew he was packing."

"Not to ruin our gossip but I need to lay down with a heating pad or something because standing is hurting my body," You laughed. "I think that man busted my cervix."

"Okay, TMI," He said, rolling his eyes. "But honestly go get some rest, lord knows you need it for seeing him tomorrow."

You were confused at first, then realized that tomorrow you had Tom for English, and you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to face him when the night before he had you moaning 'daddy' and railed you into oblivion. But that was an issue you could deal with tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

#🍇 -- thefaefiction!#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #teacher x reader #professor x reader #smut #tom hiddleston smut #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #professor!tom hiddleston #teacher!tom hiddleston #x reader smut

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jarofstyles · 9 months

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Indigo- Cobalt

Hellooooo.. Here is part 3 to indigo! Hope you enjoy tattoorry.

Warnings- tattoos, mention of needles, blood, brief mention of vomit, anxiety, you're going to want to eat harry

Check out our Patreon!

WC- 2.9k

-------

Y/N felt dizzy.

It wasn’t the prospect of getting a tattoo that was making her so nervous- it was the fact that Harry’s thigh was pressed right up against hers, his body angled towards her as he sketched on his ipad drawing program. He’d said he prefers pencil and paper but it was easier for this type of session to do it there. Faster. She had no input other than the fact that he smelled really fucking good and his leg was warm against her own.

She had indulged some information to him. First and foremost, she wanted a sunflower. A dainty little sunflower with a bit of shading and a longer stem that would go down a bit and twist near her wrist. Her plans for one day having a floral sleeve with her favorite flowers and the birth month flowers of her family had been shared, but she wanted to start off relatively simple with the first one. See how her body reacted, her healing time, all while leaving room if she liked it and wanted to continue with the sleeve.

Harry had been endeared and slightly impressed. It was rare that he got new clients anymore, as most were fairly covered by the time they got to him. However when he did do new clients back in the start, most didn’t have the extensive research she had done, nor the plan. He was all for going for what felt right, but Y/N had been specific and practical in her planning and it made him feel even more fond. She had taken the time to research not only the safety, but the importance of listening to artists suggestions and double checking the work.

It’d been a while since he had done a floral piece, but he was up for it. Truthfully, Y/N could have told him she wanted a rose skull with an infinity symbol in the eye socket and he would have done it for her, but he was relieved it was something that was relatively easy to perfect.

The man knew that he was a perfectionist when it came to his work. Harry didn’t do sloppy- at least not in his work. He kept clean, crisp lines and smooth shading, he did his best to keep any blowout from happening as much as he could on his own end, and he educated each client on the likelihood of the colors they chose longevity and when they’d probably need it touched up. His tattoos were for the clients, sure, but it was also a representation of his work. He was lucky enough now to have his choice on taking clients- there were plenty he turned away or handed off to other artists he thought could better suit them. His hard work had bled into the success he had wanted, leaving him the ability to be picky.

Normally he wouldn’t want to do a first time client because, well… he really didn’t like doing them. First timers didn’t know what to expect the majority of the time, they didn’t know how to sit still, they would wince and move and complain far too much for Harry to feel at his best. He wasn’t judging them, but now that he had a choice he chose to keep to people who had at least one.

Y/N was the exception to the rule.

He felt honored that she would like his art on her, a bit of that primal satisfaction that it would be his too. No one else would have touched her with the needle, no one else had a shot at marking up her pretty, soft skin. It was a privilege, especially considering their origin.

“What do we think?” He murmured, showing her the second sketch with some of her notes. She hadn’t liked the thickness of the stem originally, and Harry had agreed it had been a bit too leafy so he had taken some off. “S’a bit thinner in the stem and I did a curve at the bottom so it’ll fit with the movement of your arm.”

“Moment of my arm?” She asked curiously, hitting him with a curious gaze. Harry had been extremely patient with her thus far and it made her nervous to ask for corrections, but he had told her that it was going to be on her forever and he needed it to be exactly what she wanted.

“Mhm. Where you’re putting it… The skin moves when you rotate your arm. S’why we don't usually put straight lines there, at least I don’t unless in specific situations. We want it to run smoothly regardless of which way your arm is positioned. So adding a bit of a curve in the stem would make it look straighter when you move it.” He showed the motion on his own arm so she could have an example.

“Oh. I never would have thought of that.” She blinked, watching as his arm moved. He had quite a few tattoos, some she had never been truly able to make out. Now being up so close, she had a front row seat to the anchor on his wrist and the cross on his hand, some of the little doodles that she had been so curious about. He seemed to have different styles of work and she liked that each one seemed to differ just a bit. “How many tattoos do you think you’ve done in your career?”

The question popped into her head out of nowhere but it still remained there. She was increasingly curious as to how he had gotten started, what he did and didn’t like doing. Pure thirst for the knowledge of what went through his head. He’d been a silent shadow most of the time she’d known him, so it was interesting to purely listen to him talk.

“Erm.. I’d say a couple hundred? There are some days I only work on one, some I do none, some days I can do three to four.” He paused, placing his apple pencil down, turning slightly to look at her. Their thighs pressed further together. “When I first started, I did a lot of flash sheets of shit that wasn’t my own. Think of, like, the pinterest stuff. Little hearts and stars, stuff on my mates, myself. They had me practice a ton when I was apprenticing but it made me good.” He brushed the hair out of his face. He really needed to find his hair clip. “Was frustrated at first, because I knew I could draw and stuff, but they were making me do those tiny things for basically no money- but, y’know, It’s harder than you’d think. Especially on someone who’s moving or someone who’s giggling with a bunch of their friends that they brought.”

“Is that why there was that sign out there?” Her face broke into a little grin, remembering the hand lettered sign before you went back to the rooms. ‘No children, No drinking, No plus threes’. “I find it hard to believe that people want to bring three people into the room with them.” That was inconsiderate. One? She could understand. That made sense if you were nervous. But multiple people just made it more crowded and loud. She’d rather be alone and deal with the experience being potentially awkward rather than make herself an inconvenient client.

His scoff took her by surprise, head tipping back in amusement. “Oh, they do. They did. Now it’s limited to one person in the room and you’ve got t’be over 18. Special allowances are made sometimes, but some of the places I worked at before starting my own place had no one enforcing or making those sorts of rules. It’s just unsafe. You’d be surprised how many drunk people come in demanding ink.” It was one of his least favorite clients. Drunk people tended to squirm and vomit, you know, besides getting a permanent image inked into the skin. That’s one thing he would never do again.

“Hm. Well it seems like you’re running a great place. I saw your stuff on instagram.” Her praise made him flush slightly, feeling a tiny bit shy as she continued. “And then the articles and awards you’ve got up front. It’s massively impressive. I’m surprised you’re tattooing me if I’m honest. She said up front I had virgin skin?” A head tilt at the end of her words reminded him of a puppy.

“Well, like I said. Special occasion.” He knocked his knee against hers in a playful attempt. “Just means no ink. Nothing nasty. I usually don’t do people with no ink because they can be twitchy and I can choose the pieces I do now. Usually I do more long and involved ones but, I’m more than happy to be doing yours.” His smile was a reassurance that he was more than happy to do it.

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned slightly, suddenly feeling a little guilty. She didn’t want him to do a tattoo he didn’t want to do, or even more so do it on her just because he felt bad about the times before. “If you don’t want to do it, I’m happy to go to another artist in your shop-”

“No, I want to do it.” His voice was fast, interrupting hers without meaning to. It had rushed out without his permission, but the ugly twisting inside his gut had started at the mention of someone else doing this. She had wanted him, had planned on him, and if he was being honest? He was a bit selfish. His art was meant to go on people like Y/N. People who appreciated the art, who appreciated the skill. Add in his big fat crush, and it was not something he was going to pass up.

“O-Okay.” Y/N smiled, looking back down at her lap. His jeans were against her leg, and she couldn't stop thinking about how warm he was. How happy she was that he had chosen to sit with her on here instead of the armchair. A giddiness bubbled in her stomach as she felt his eyes on her, a hand coming down into her field of vision and gripping her knee. Her face felt hot, looking down at the fingers that curled over. It felt like she had been shocked at first, but moved into a warm glow.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

If she was any less strong, she would have squeaked. The large hand rested there, giving her leg a squeeze before he continued to speak.

“You ready to get some ink, then?”

—-------------

“You’ve had somethin’ to eat today, right?” Harry’s voice spoke to her as she sat in the red leather seat. His back was turned to her as he opened up a few drawers, grabbing what looked to be some sort of tape, vaseline, ink caps, different wrapped needles maybe? A blue liner sat over the tray, keeping it sanitary as he placed the supplies down. There was no reason to doubt he would be, but it only furthered her comfort.

“Yeah, I had a croissant and a pastry. Coffee too.” She peeped, hoping that would be good enough in his eyes.

With the way he turned in his chair, it wasn’t. “C’mon, babe. You’ve gotta eat better than that… but I can say m’glad you didn’t have a heavy meal a few minutes ago.” That would be a nightmare if she felt the need to spew. “Nothing with protein.. If you feel like you’re getting lightheaded, like you’re going to faint? Tell me immediately. This shouldn’t be too bad, all things considered, but there's no shame in taking a break.” He really didn’t mind it. That was much preferred over someone passing out on him.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” Her eyes widened slightly but she avoided his eyes again, instead choosing to look at his hair. He’d found his hair clip when they’d walked in, saying something about having been looking for it for ages before gathering hair at the front of his face and clipping it back out of the way. He looked fucking adorable.

Tattoos, piercings and all, he looked adorable. Y/N had always thought he was handsome, hot, even, but his little smiles and concern for her had made her feel a little floaty and giggly and she needed to contain herself.

“Good girl.” His hand squeezed her leg again before turning around on the stool to finish unwrapping supplies.

If he heard her squeak, he didn’t let her know it.

They sat in a comfortable silence, the music hooked to his phone playing at a comfortable level as he did his thing. Y/N looked at his back, admiring the broad nature, his strong shoulders and how it strained slightly against his shirt. At this point, she was nearly positive she was just being extremely thirsty over the man who had always been a faraway object of desire- even if she had thought he hated her.

“Alright.” Harry returned, voice making Y/N jump slightly. “Sorry, sorry. I’ve got the stencil.” Holding it up, he let her take a look and smiled to himself as her eyes rounded and she smiled widely. It did that weird thing to his chest as she squirmed, sitting straighter as he approached with it. “Good? We can put it on in a moment. Just got t’prep you.”

“It’s so beautiful, Harry.” Her wispy voice nearly made him fall off his chair. He wished he wasn’t so weak, wished he wasn’t such a soft heart for her, that he could be a bit more suave, but when she spoke like that, looked at him like that, said his name like that? All he wanted to do was scream.

“M’glad you think so.” He replied gently, taking his seat. “Is it okay if I touch you? I need to adjust your arm.” Touching bare skin was a limit a surprising amount of people had- himself included. He usually preferred his bed partners keeping their hands to themselves, no matter how much they wanted to trace his ink. His actual partners, he enjoyed, but people didn’t have much of a sense of boundary sometimes.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. You can do whatever you want to me.”

Dangerous fucking words, Harry thought. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to stray at the moment, so he decided to save that sweet tone and double meaning sentence to obsess over at a later time.

It didn’t take him too long, his fingers brushing over the skin as he shaved it to make sure the canvas was clear and prepped her for the stencil. Y/N was quiet, watching his concentration. He got a cute little thing between his brows as he focused on her, making sure the stencil was straight and where she wanted before laying it and pressing down.

When he peeled it away, she audibly gasped. “This is perfect.” Her voice went up in pitch. “It’s better than I imagined, H. Really. I love it.” Speaking like the ink was already in her skin, he flushed again as he placed the paper into the tray.

“You sure? Placement’s good?”

“Perfect. I like it right here.” She nodded, eyes not leaving the blue stain.

“Okay. We’re going to get started then, okay?” He pulled on a pair of fresh gloves, scooting himself and the station a bit closer to her. “We’re starting with the outlining, then we move to shading. It’s gonna be uncomfortable, mostly when I have to go over the lines again but we aren’t going to be too close to bone so It shouldn't be terrible.” He was doing his job now to mentally prepare her. “You can tell me if you need the bathroom or if you need to move at all. Everyone’s pain thresholds are different. Don’t feel embarrassed. I’m sure as hell not going to judge you.” His smile was reassuring as she looked a little nervous, but more so the excited type. It was easy to tell.

“I will tell you. Do you need me to stay quiet when you're tattooing? To keep focus? I don’t want to distract you.” Y/N questioned, big eyes looking at him with curiosity.

Anyone else? Anyone else in the entire world, he would tell them yes. He preferred a quiet environment to work, to get into the zone and truly concentrate. But there was no way in hell he was going to pass up an opportunity to hear her talk and babble. She had been so quiet around him before- rightfully so, considering she thought he would tell her to shut up- but he ached to just get a little bit closer. That yearning of his soft heart was pulsing, wishing to get to know her more. His brain was telling him to relax and be logical, but they both knew who would win out.

“Absolutely not, Sunflower. Chatter away.”

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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 2 years

Text

Did It Even Mean Anything?

Words: 1682

Warnings: angst, breakup, being played, only dating someone on a bet, probably poor writing but whatever

STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist

Request: "Gareth and Jeff make a bet with Eddie about not being able to get a date or a girl in general. Eddie asked out the quiet girl thinking it would be an easy bet, but realize they have a lot in common. Maybe the next day at school she finds out about the bet from over hearing it from Gareth and Jeff talking to Eddie. Ending of their reaction is up to you."

I have such a love/hate with this trope dude. Like, I love it, but I hate it at the exact same time.

I also hated making Gareth be the dick that he is in this. I love that guy so much man.

*EDIT AFTER WRITING AND POSTING*

THERE WILL BE NO FUCKING PART 2! I WROTE THIS WITH NO INTENT OF ONE! THEN THIS BECAME MORE POPULAR THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD! AND PEOPLE WERE DEMANDING ME TO MAKE A PART 2 AND I WON'T FUCKING DO IT CAUSE YOU FUCKING DEMANDED IT AND YOU SHOULDN'T DO THAT! PLUS, I WOULD PISS Y'ALL OFF BY MAKING IT EVEN SADDER THAN IT ALREADY IS! IF YOU TRULY WANT ANOTHER PART THAT'LL BE HAPPY, WRITE IT YOURSELF!

I'm not trying to be an asshole I'm just tired of people asking for it when I have told them in the comments AND THE REBLOGS that I wasn't sure about it. But now I've decided to not.

But please, read this and continue to like it.

Anywho, enjoy

Eddie smirked at Y/N as he leaned against the lockers next to hers. She was quiet. Well, more reserved than most of the other girls that he knew of. And he knew that she had a crush on him. "So? What do you say, princess? Tomorrow, 7 o'clock? I pick you up at yours?" She stared at him with wide eyes before smiling softly and nodding. Eddie let out a small laugh, "You gonna use your words, darling?"

She felt her face heat up before letting out a soft, "Yeah." She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder, "Yeah, I would like that a lot."

He smiled, "Good. See you then." She nodded as he walked away.

And as he walked away, she turned to her locker and grabbed all of her books and piled them into her back. She couldn't believe it! Eddie Munson, the guy she had had a crush on since she met him her Freshman (his Sophomore) year, had just asked her out. She was ecstatic.

But she was also surprised. Eddie knew who she was? They had only ever spoken to each other 2 times. One was when he had asked her for a pencil. And the other was when he had asked what he missed in Mrs. Click's class because he had missed the past three days.

But that was 2 and a half years ago.

However, she stopped her worrying and walked out to her car. Excited that literally anyone had just asked her out. But she was also nervous because she had never been on a date before. So she had no idea what to do or wear.

However, unknown to her, Eddie was walking into the Hellfire room with the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever had. He opened the door, and with his luck, only Gareth and Jeff were there. He slammed his hands down on the table. "You two boys now owe me a hundred dollars each."

Gareth raised an eyebrow, "Why's that?"

"Because I just got my ass a fucking date."

Jeff scoffed, "Yeah? With who?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

His friends started laughing. "Y/N Y/L/N? The girl who had literally had a crush on you since she met you?"

Eddie smirked, "You didn't say it couldn't someone easy. So pay the fuck up." Gareth and Jeff looked at one another and Eddie groaned, "Now what?"

"Date her until the end of the school year and you'll get your money."

"That wasn't the original fucking plan!"

Gareth shrugged, "Yeah, but we realized that you'll just go on one lousy date with her. Maybe even try to sleep with her. Then toss her to the side. Because we all know that you can't commit."

Eddie groaned, "You guys are literally the fucking worst."

They both shrugged this time, "You chose to befriend us, Eddie."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "Whatever." He ran a hand through his hair, "So I just have to date her until May 25th?" The other two nodded, "Fine. I guess I can do that."

Unfortunately for him, he would realize just how much he would fall for Y/H/C girl he just asked out on a bet.

Eddie was sitting next to Y/N in the back of his van at the Drive-Thru. Neither were really even watching it as they were just talking to each other. He was surprised to find out that she liked a lot of the same things he did.

"Actually, Rocky Horror is gonna be showed a town over in two weeks. I was planning on going, maybe, if you wanted, we could go together." The smile on her face as soft as she asked him.

He returned the smile and nodded, "That would be fun." He leaned back, against the side of his van. "One question. Do you dress up?"

She laughed, "Of course I do! Usually I do Janet as that's all that I really have clothes for. But I recently found a old maids outfit that I'm gonna fix up to look like Magenta. Hopefully it'll be ready in time."

He grabbed a piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. "I bet it will be."

He laughed lightly and she smiled at him confused. "What?"

"I just...I don't get this. You're literally so...perfect. I mean. You're so nice, you like the same things as me, and you're hot." She felt her face heat up at the last comment. "You're like a dream come true Y/N Y/L/N."

She smirked, "What? Did you think that I was gonna like a lot of popular stuff?"

"Kinda?"

She laughed, "I do like some of it. There are some chick-flicks that I love. Some music. I just like whatever I like."

He nodded, "What's your opinion on DnD."

"I've never played. But it seems pretty interesting. I don't really understand why people say it's 'satanic'. And that people who play it are 'devil worshippers' and 'evil'. Games don't make being evil. It's what they're surrounded by that do it."

He smiled, "I like your thinking."

For the rest of the film, the two of them continued to just talk about different things that they liked. And Eddie continued to be surprised that the two of them liked the same things as each other.

But the guilt that he just asked her out on a bet grew more and more.

The two had gotten together in January and now March was ending and April was starting. Eddie had truly started to fall for Y/N after a week. But he kept feeling guilty that this all started because of a stupid bet he had made with his friends. He had felt like he was using her this whole time. But he knew it wasn't true. Everything he had said and done had been true. And when he told her that he loved her. He had meant it.

But he knew he would have to tell her the truth at some point. Even if he knew that he would hurt the both of them. But he wasn't going to do that until after he talked to Jeff and Gareth and called the bet off.

Y/N walked down the hall to the Hellfire room. She had to ask Eddie if she had left her jacket over at his trailer. But she felt her blood run cold when she overheard a conversation that she knew she shouldn't have.

"-You can't do that dude! You calling off the bet means that you have to pay us! I thought that you hated losing!"

"Yeah? Well I didn't plan on actually falling for her! I can't go through with the fucking bet! It'll just hurt her!"

"That's your fault bro. You knew that this could happen, but you went through with it. You asked Y/N out on a bet, knowing that you easily could fall for her."

She hadn't realized that she walked into the room fully until she dropped the books in her arms and the three boys turned to her. Guilt covered Eddie's face when he saw her. And he was barely able to get her name out before she ran out of the room. He cursed under his breath and turned to Gareth and Jeff. "The bet is over. I'll pay you two tomorrow." And then without even giving them a chance to respond, he ran out to find Y/N.

He had a good idea where she would be. He remembered something she had mentioned once about a place in the woods. Different than the place he would meet people for deals. She had shown him it once. And when he made it to there, he felt his heart break. He heard her crying. And it pained him to know that she was crying because of him. Because of what he had done.

As a twig snapped under his foot, her head snapped around. She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Leave me alone."

"Princess-"

"No. No don't. Don't do that." She stood up, "Don't sit there and say 'princess' and act all innocent. Act-act as if...as if this isn't all a lie!"

He shook his head, "It isn't a lie! I do love you! More than anything!"

She shook her head, "I was nothing more than a fucking bet. You asked me out just so you could...could what? Get money? Prove that you aren't a fucking loser?"

"Y/N I-"

"Was any of it even real?"

"What?"

She walked over to him and poked his chest, "Any of it? Was. It. Even. Real. Did you mean any of it? Or was it all apart of the fucking bet?"

"I meant everything I said and did!"

She let in a shaky breath, "Why me? Why did you choose me to be the fucking victim?" She laughed, "Actually. No wait, let me guess. You asked me because you thought I would be easy. Because you knew I had fucking liked you for years. Am I right?" He stayed silent. She was right. He had originally asked her because he knew that she would say right. She let out a small, dry laugh. "I should have fucking known. It was all too good to be true. I mean, why else would Eddie 'the freak' Munson ask me out? Why else if I wasn't just supposed to be another notch on his belt?" She looked at him, "Well, go find yourself some other girl to fuck with. Because we're fucking done." She pushed past him, but not without saying, "God, I wish I never had been seen with the freak of Hawkins."

And he watched as she walked away and felt him heart tear into a million pieces. He knew he had fucked up. He knew he should have told her the minute he gained feelings. But he didn't and now he had fucked everything up.

And now the one person who he had actually fallen for, hated him more than anything.

#eddie #munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson request #stranger #things #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things request #x reader #imagine #request

6K notes · View notes

kombuuuu · 11 months

Note

Okay so this song, right?

Now the original version (the one above) is fun so you don’t realize it, but when you listen to the MTV Unplugged version (the one below) you realize that it’s really fucking sad

So, upon doing research, I learned that the song is about asking someone to give them a chance. ‘Take on me, take me on’ is saying, “give me chance, let me try.”

And what did that make me think of? Earth 42! Miles Morales.

Think about it.

Reader likes him, he likes them, but he’s scared of (A) being abandoned, (B) giving them a reason to leave, or (C) hurting them. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, and that makes it hard to be happy.

But reader? They know. They get it. And they know that, with communication and a little bit of faith, it can work. So they’re literally telling him to give it a chance. To let it work.

This is what my silly little brain does sometimes.

he so baby

also wtf why would u bring up this song it’s been years but tlou is still fresh on the mind bro wtf wtf what the hell

Take me on, Please.

42!Miles Morales x GN!Reader

—

Not a day passed when Miles hasn’t thought of you. When he was ‘working’, or in school — or in the late of night, trying so hard to get to sleep, but with the image of you making the back of his eyelids burn. He stayed awake to maybe escape them— And you still couldn’t leave his mind.

His room would get too dark, and when the ceiling would start to form your silhouette, he would give up. And resign to the deeps of his own mind. Resign to you.

He would toss and turn, clutching his bedsheets in bruised knuckles.

He would slide the other hand down his face, would relish in the pain, pull his skin. Pick at his hands, grip his hair. Would lay lax, and think and think and think.

Until he couldn’t — Until, like to his thoughts. He would concede.

And he’d call you — and you’d answer, and he’d sigh — relieved, stressed, scared, loved.

—

He’d try to avoid you, don’t get him wrong — he would.

He would ignore your texts, and skip his classes when he knew you were in them. He’d pick the locks to the schools roof, sit legs crossed on the touch concrete, and watch the students idle below him.

But it’d only last so long.

He’d call you, dead of night. Then wake up to a “gud morning C:” text the morning after, and he’d scroll through everything he’d missed and reply to every one.

He’d get scolded by his Momma for skipping class, and bashfully return to your shared table — you welcoming him back with a smile and a pencil already in your hand, ready for him to ask. Because you knew he never brought one, you knew him.

You’d see him from your spot on the courtyard, chatting with your other friends. The ones he’d envy for being so carefree with you.

And you’d send him a discreet wave, watching him stiffen as you put a finger to your lips in sworn secrecy.

“My lips are sealed

(I wish you’d shut them).”

You were a plague. A torturous, sickeningly sweet plague.

—

You huffed to yourself as you made your way up the last set of stairs, leaning on your knees a little at the top and cursing Miles for being difficult.

You groaned again as you pushed up, grasping the doors handle and opening it with ease.

The boy in question was sat on the edge of the roof, watching students and teachers alike.

“You ‘kay?”

He barely flinched, head titling towards you for a moment in consideration, eyes never meeting yours, but he saw your concern through his peripherals.

“Mm..” He hummed in acknowledgment, a relatively positive — but somewhat unsure sound.

Your brows furrowed slightly, lips curling in on themselves for a moment in silent disagreement.

He didn’t want to speak on it, so you wouldn’t make him.

You walked to his side, and he watched the way the world shifted around you, almost revolved around your movements.

He sighed and turned to face in front of him again — desperate not to meet your eye.

You sat down, your feet sidling off the edge of the roof in swift movements, just like he had. His breath stuttered in worry, and he had an instinct to pull you back. Keep you safe from the dangers he seemed to bring — but that would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it?

But you were fine, and your feet had started kicking. He huffed, scratching away the smile that tried to surface and shoving it back down.

He sniffed, leaning back on one of his hands.

He was so smooth, calculated. Like every movement he made had a lifetime worth of of thought put into it. Maybe it was just confidence, sureness in himself.

Maybe you missed the tremble in his hands, the irritated and blushed skin of his knuckles, creaking with every movement and splitting every night.

The way his skin peeled around the bed of his nails, dry and lifted.

You admired his controlled breathing, and he struggled to steady it — heart rate rising with his efforts.

It’s like you didn’t understand the effect you had on him, oblivious to his nervous nature.

He refocused, and the way the wind hit your face, tracing along the shape of your lips, ruffling your clothes in a soft breeze.

He would envy it — if it didn’t feel stupid.

You gazed at shifting clouds and blue skies, smiling at the hint of the Moon you could still see. And he watched, ever observing in your prose.

“You know —,” He savoured the way your lips moved, how they curled around each word “,—I’d never push you to talk to me, Miles. I’d never be that person.” You glanced at him, and the pulse of electricity that ran through his spine when your eyes met his, it was anything but healthy.

“I know.”

He affirmed your statement, knowing you had never, and would never force him to be open with you. He’d wish you were more demanding.

You hummed and turned back to the sky, eyes shining against sunlight, dancing with something too caring, too intimate for him. He turned to the sky.

“You can talk to me, though.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, shivering at your tone of voice.

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to?”

It was your turn to stutter now, breath catching in your throat and trying to find the right words.

“I—“ You laughed nervously, hands fiddling with the little weeds that had sprouted between seems of concrete. “,I wouldn’t wanna be pushy—“

“[Name].”

You stopped, guiltily humming in acknowledgment. If he didn’t want to—

“Mirame.”

Miles pulled you out of your thoughts, watching the shame well behind your eyes, like the mere thought of being overbearing was something to fear.

Your eyelashes fluttered when you looked at him, and the sight made him swoon.

He tilted his head towards you, braids sliding down his shoulders, encouraging you to go on — and you conceded, a subtle frown gracing your features.

“I do.”

He sighed, relieved — and perturbed.

“I can’t..,” You bit your lip and let him find his footing. “,..I can’t talk to you, I want to,”

His heart was stuck in his throat, constricting it enough to suffocate — he’d wished it would claw the confessions out of him.

I cant.”

Your eyes flickered to his hands beside your own, watching them twitch before you met his gaze again, heavy and heart-felt.

“I know.”

—

You were determined. The previous apprehensions you’d felt and faced being forced away in a moment of clarity.

You needed him to talk to you, needed him to be open. He’d never get himself there alone.

You needed him to know you could take him. You wanted to try. At the very least.

You slipped your hands down the windowsill, dangling off the edge and checking to see if you could drop down.

When the fire escape touched the tips of your toes, you let go, listening to see if you’d been to loud as you slowly lowered onto your heels.

When no movement seemed to be heard without your apartment, you turned to the steps, making your way down as quiet as possible and jumping off the last step. You landed on the pavement with a stumble before you righted yourself.

“Ahh, Shit—,” A stray pedestrian sent you you a weird look and you chuckled nervously, muttering an apology and scattering off to find Miles in the vast of a city’s night.

—

You were nearing the corner of his street, his apartment coming into view as you walked. You watched the plants Momma Rio had set on her windowsill sway in a light breeze, and the light flicker different colours from her TV before your eyes drifted towards Miles’ window.

It was dark in there, but you knew he preferred it like that.

He might’ve been asleep, considering how late it was — but it wasn’t likely.

He might’ve lost his passion for art, but you knew sometimes, when he thought no one was looking — he’d sketch or draw whatever came to mind.

Sometimes glancing at the copic markers his dad had got him, the ones he shoved under his bed, before harshly furrowing his brows and disregarding the thought.

The ringing of a stores bell grabbed your attention, whipping your head to the left. A lone man walked out of what looked to be a convenience store, waving to the store clerk with a smile and a cheerful goodbye before going on his way.

You eyed the store, checking its contents through the ceiling to floor windows and purposefully ignoring the graffiti littering them.

When your eye caught onto a Prowler themed face mask (strawberry scented!), you smirked to yourself and headed in.

—

The Prowler wasn’t something exactly looked down upon by the public, if anything — he was favoured.

People were weary at first, scared even. Of the man going around killing strangers, but true to the way of the general public — when the victims names had been revealed, and a string of murders all lined up and marked with a signature slash to the throat —, people had begun to investigate.

And every immoral thing those ‘Victims’ had ever done was brought to light.

No matter how many times the government tried to quiet those things down, to save face, whatever forum you decided to look just a tad deeper in—…

Safe to say he was admired.

So seeing things branded with The Prowler theme wasn’t very out of the blue.

Which is why, walking out of that store, you now had a bag filled to the brim with Prowler merch (?), to tease said Prowler with.

—

Miles followed along to the song playing in his headphones, bouncing his head to Kendrick’s words and mouthing the lyrics with him.

The sketches he made along thick paper formed the shape of your body, the same silhouette stuck in his mind now stained clean paper in led.

He flicked his pencil up slightly, curling is to the shape of your neck and slip of your shoulder. He leant back, trying to see his work from a new angle and take it — you — in from a full scale.

He admired your features before going to fix a smudge on the right side of the page just as the song came to a close.

Through the fade-out, a small ‘clack’ caught his attention.

He dismissed it, glancing in the direction of his window and playing it off as a stray leaf.

Until it happened again a minute later.

He groaned, pausing the song, which he wasn’t happy about — because IFHY is not something you just ‘pause’ — and ripping his headphones out. Spinning on his chair and launching off towards the window, his chair rolled back at his sudden movement, but he was too caught up eyeing the glass to pay attention as to where it went.

He crept closer with a sneer on his face, and as he passed the shelf, reached back behind a book to grab his gun.

Better safe than sorry, was what his Uncle told him.

He ducked behind the wall next to his window, legs crouched enough to have him able to peek smoothly.

His breath left him at the sight of your creased brows, a furrow in them he couldn’t explain. Your lips parted as you focused on aiming at his window, a moment later — another clack, and he almost snorted as the small rock hit the glass and you bent to pick it up again.

Reaching forward and dragging his body in view of the window, he slammed it open, glaring playfully down at you.

Your head snapped up, caught with a stone in your metaphorically red hands.

You smiled up at him, sheepish and unbelievably sweet.

He crossed his arms, raising his brows with an expecting look on his face, he wasn’t mad — could never be — but he wouldn’t let *you know that.

“Hey—,” You dragged out the ‘y’ with an awkward laugh. “,Morales. Funny ahh—,”

You sniffed and shifted to stand up straight again.

“,Funny seein’ you here.”

His smile grew as he watched you cringe at yourself, rolling his eyes and snarking at you.

“At my house?”

“More an apartment, you know? My personal preference, I’ll say—,”

“[Name].”

He titled his head down at you with a condescending look in his eyes. You laughed again, just as nervous as before, and swung the bag in your hand to occupy them.

“Yeah— Sorry.”

He bent over, leaning his elbows on his windowsill and letting his free hand hang over the edge, hiding the gun behind the wall.

He flashed it at you and you made a sour face, giving him a deadpanned look as he smirked.

“Really?”

“Not my fault you showed up without so much as a text.” His tone dipped lower, teasing your decisions to surprise someone you *knew to be a vigilante.

You pouted, puffing your cheeks up in dismay and crossing your arms, dropping the rock as you went. The bag shifting with your movements caught his attention and he gave it a questioning look before focusing back on you when you spoke.

“And here I thought I could come and surprise my best friend without a glock getting pulled on me.” You dramatically tipped your head up at him, exposing your neck and jawline for him to eye.

“Ooh, yeah — poor you, huh?” He bit his lip and watched you peek at him, fighting off a smile.

“Yes. Poor me. So poor, in fact — that I’m standing out here,” You looked to the left and he followed, both of you going quiet as someone left their apartment.

You awkwardly waved when they gave you a weird look. As soon as they were out of earshot, you lowered your voice to a harsh whisper and whined up at him. His fingers twitched at the expression you wore, watching you with a keen eye.

“,looking like a fucking psycho!”

“More like a schitzo. Talk’n to yo’self.”

“Miles!”

He snorted, turning to set the gun back in its place and returning to the window, he watched you look around again and tap your foot impatiently before you caught his eye once more.

“Here, I’ll buzz you up, Bambi.”

You gave him a curious look and begun to speak before he rushed out of your view, hearing you mutter to yourself —,

“Bambi?”

—

Going up to meet him wasn’t hard, neither was sneaking through his apartment, giggling with him when he was too caught up looking at you to watch where he was going, and ending up knocking his foot on his coffee table. He cursed into the dark room, a harsh whisper — before forgetting his pains when you snickered at him. Putting a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself and the other gripping your bag tighter. He watched the Moons light hit your eyes and make them sparkle something romantic, and when you offered him a questioned “You okay?”, he just laughed with you.

Being with you was so, so easy.

You both eventually stumbled into his room, shucking off your shoes by his door and sitting cross legged, facing each other on his bed.

Not before he rushed to hide the drawing of you while you were preoccupied with your shoes.

Short quips and poking insults were thrown at each others’ stupidity, throughout.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention!”

“Actually, it was.”

“What was that?”

“I said ‘I was’!”

You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes, “Liar, you were too caught up eyeing my bag!”

He smirked, voice low and smooth, “What’d you bring—? Protection?”

A sudden burst of laughter left you before he put a hand over your mouth, shushing you through his own gavelled chuckles.

You peeled his hand off your mouth by his wrist, holding it between you both and gave him a sly smile.

“You’re gonna want some real protection in a second.”

He raised his brows, turning his palm over to trace his fingers over your palm.

“Oh yeah?”

You hummed an affirmation before using your other hand to set down the bag. The one he had in his own going limp in his hold.

“Yup. But you won’t deny me.”

“I won’t?”

His accent curled smoothened over the words, dripping honey malt into your ears.

“Nuh uh.”

Another chuckle was granted at your antics before it suddenly ceased, only as soon as you pulled out the first item.

“Is that—,”

“Yeah.”

“And you want—“

“Yuh huh.”

“God, [Name]. Where did you even find this!” His hand dropped your own and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

Watching him grab the mask with a scrunched up look on his face was worth it, though.

“It’s honestly pretty popular—,”

“We’re not doing this!” He glanced up at you through his lashes, and when he caught you already watching him, he shut down his fluttering heart by focusing on the item in hand.

“Oh, yes we are —! And there’s more!”

“Nah. No fuckin’ way.”

You bit your lip and rummaged through the bag again, and his attention was stolen by you once more.

Flame from a candle *you got him complimenting your features in a romantic light.

The longer he admired you, the more he realised he could never possibly do you justice. No still drawing could ever compare to the real thing.

Nothing could compare to you.

“Look! There’s even a hand mask! It has claws like you, it’s so cute—…”

Your voice faded in and out through his mind, more so focused on the way your lips moved than anything. On how your eyes kept flicking to look into his, exaggerated hand movements emphasising your excitement in a way he could only describe as endearing.

You were so soft, so sweet to him.

He couldn’t love you, he couldn’t let you love him.

Not with your innocence, your purity. Something so simple to have, and yet complicated to love.

He didn’t want to ruin you, to taint your view of this world — and of him.

Your candidness wasn’t built on naïveté, but trust, and hope for virtue. You believed in good, believed that not everything was black and white — and that some things were.

There was simplicity in you, that could only be admired by a troubled mind. Those with troubled existence longed to have the tranquility of a partner rid of pain. To have someone they could shield from the depths they’d travelled, and to never let them lie witness to the bottom of a raging sea.

He’d never let you feel pain like he has.

And yet, he can’t help but feel he’d be one to cause it.

The things he did were dangerous, the life he lived was worse. He’d get killed, or get you killed.

He couldn’t do that to you.

You gently grabbed his hands, snapping him out of his spiralling as you examined them.

“You might not be able to do the hand mask—…” You looked up at him again, a thoughtful squint to your eyes. “Got a lot of cuts.”

You looked down again and his breath escaped him, Miles watched your nose twitch as you considered his wounds, his hand shaking under your touch.

“Oh! Wait I—“

Your face lit up once more, hand dipping into the bag and searching around for a moment with an excited gleam.

“Mm?”

He tilted his head in question, and when you glanced back at him, he averted his eyes to the bag. Right as you pulled out Prowler themed bandaids.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You laughed again, giggling at the mere coincidence.

“I didn’t even—,” You choked a little and tested up, laughing harder and trying to keep quiet.

“,I didn’t even go in to get these! They were just there and I couldn’t not get them.”

You squinted in laughter and his thick chuckle made your smile widen.

“Ohh,” He dragged out the word, a disbelieving lull to his tone. “,Yeah sure, Chiquita.”

Your laughter died down and his find stare came to your attention, rendering you flustered for a solid second. Your grip on his fingers twitching.

“Here, I’ll—,” You distracted yourself, trying to rid your face from any sign of crush.

Silly, childish crush (That you wouldn’t dream of trying to get rid of).

You grabbed the box of band-aids with one hand, other gently placing his injured one over your knee, mumbling as you went.“,Put these on..”

“Yeah..” He spoke breathlessly, staring at you without an ounce of shame.

You ignored the flutter of hope in your chest, focusing on unwrapping the adhesive — and taking care of him.

—

You smoothed the mask over his face, running your thumb over his cheek bone to straighten out a crease.

“Stop making faces—!”

He snorted, lip curling up at your grumpy demand.

“Lo siento, cordero.”

"I'm sorry, lamb."

“Just—.” You leaned in closer to him, subconsciously being drawn to him.

His, now band-aid adorned, hands slipped up to your hips, Miles not even realising he was doing it until he felt your flesh under his calloused hands.

He didn’t move them, guilt being outweighed by his indulgence. He could focus on the way your hands lost their steady hold, how you had to refocus to continue fixing his stupid mask.

How you looked so good, so sweet, being this close to him.

Felt so warm under his rough fingers.

“Just?”

He went to raise his eyebrows, before schooling his expression again. You gave him an approving look at the action.

“It was rhetoric.”

“Wh—?” He snorted, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Yeah? ‘Just’ — Rhetoric?”

You bit your lip and hummed. “Yup.”

“Oh, so sorry— Should’ve known.”

He pinched the skin along your hip and you gave a yelp and playfully bat his hand away.

“Play fair!”

“I am.”

His hands slid up your thighs again, you scoffed but didn’t stop him. And he watched your face, tracing your features like he’d done a thousand times before, he let himself have this.

Just for tonight, he swears.

You turned from him slightly, shuffling through the bag again to look for another item. Purple lip masks, it wasn’t inherently “Prowler”, but it was cute.

“[Name].”

“Mm?” You hummed, glancing at him before finding the lip mask and pulling it out, shaking it a little in a cheer.

“[Name].”

You looked at him more intently now, curiosity overpowering your urge to smooth out the crease he’s now made by talking.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

Your voice was light, worried but not enough to be off putting.

Miles sighed through a stuttered breath, nails dragging over your flesh in small circles, and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind him.

You watched his eyes drop, focusing not on your face, but on where he touched you — a nervous glint in his eye that you hadn’t seen before.

“I find it hard to talk to you.”

His eyes snapped back up, mask scrunching with his face.

“What?” Voice confused, and a little tired — like he knew this was coming, he knew you’d get tired.

*But that’s not what you were getting at.

Your skin prickled once more when he spread his hands out, disregarding his calm circling to grip your waist, his fingers sliding just under the hem of your shirt.

“It’s hard, Yknow?—,” You fiddled with the packet in your hand and you swear you felt him tug your hips closer, like a plea for you not to leave him.

“,—I feel like every time we’re together, I’m this close to telling you everything I’m thinking.”

The tremors in your body grew larger, shaking in nerve as you ran your tongue along your lip.

“Like I trust you so much I have to hold back. — And it’s hard to.”

You met his gaze, watching his lips part in batted breath.

“You make me feel safe.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. Just stared at you in silent apprehension.

You shifted on your knees, squirming at his quietness.

“Please say something.”

You whispered to him, backing down to a reticent tone.

He took a breath, still considering you, his look much softer now. You watched his face flash again, bringing a rather domestic look to his face.

He sighed out the aforementioned gasp, and his hands clenched again, you felt it all.

His warmth against your face, his hands along your body. The nerves under his skin digging into your own, bringing both of you into an interlinked bundle of edge.

“You know I—..”

He stuttered, voice breaking.

“Nunca te lo confesarè.”

His voice was small, smaller than you’d ever heard it. Like he was trying to tell you something, but could only force the words out.

“I won’t be able to.”

“You don’t need to.”

Miles watched as you dropped the packet in your hands, the lack of noise palpable once the rustling was gone.

He could only look on as you bring a hand up to smooth over his shoulder, and slipped the other to his jaw.

“You don’t need to, Miles.”

He felt like crying, holding back emotions so strong his body shuddered.

“You don’t need to say a thing,”

Your fingers ran over a scar and he melted further into you, leaning forward in your hold, his own hands grabbing at you in a firm, but never hurtful, hold.

“,Not to me.”

You watched as the man above you shrunk, losing the tension in his body the longer you held him.

His eyes closed, savouring the feeling of your softened body.

“Tell me you understand.”

He furrowed his brows, shyly opening his eyes, his heart to you.

“I understand, I do.”

He pressed forward, crowding over you. His head dropped closer to your ear, leaning his head on your shoulder despite the face mask still being on. You hadn’t even cared for your now wet shirt, dragging your hands down to his forearms and let him make the pace. Keep him comfortable no matter how bad you wanted to kiss his woes away.

You would be the person he could lean on, whether you mean that metaphorically or not.

“Sleep here tonight?”

It’s not like you hadn’t before. You and Miles having slept in the same bed plenty of times prior, at an all time high when his dad passed, and he could barely sleep without you. It’d just be different now, better.

“Stay with you?”

“Stay with me.”

You hummed, leaning closer so his upper body was dependent solely on yours. His hands slipped further around you, in a sweet hug, and yours traced his arms and neck, dragging nails down scarred skin.

“Okay.”

—

Everything was stripped down, both the face masks and the wrapping around his bloodied hands, although the Cat-Vigilante themed bandaids still remained.

Miles had basically fell asleep, getting calmer by the minute when you rubbed his shoulders, the tension in his muscles leaving him more relaxed than he’d been in years.

He was breathing softly against your neck and his hands lay limp, wrists hanging off your thighs.

You shifted, slipping the bag full of both trash and stuff you still hadn’t unpacked off the bed, cringing at the rustle and double checking Miles to make sure he hadn’t been startled.

You still needed to move him though, gently using your free hand, the one not cradling his head to your neck, to lift the corner of the cover so you could lay him down.

He sniffles and you freeze, cringing.

“Mm.. Quit movin’…”

You huff amusedly at his grumpy tone. Watching as he shoved his face deeper into you, inhaling slowly. His lips brushed your throat and you worried he could feel the race of your pulse under them.

“Miles, baby lay down.”

“You’re s’ warm.”

Another small laugh, airy and light, left you.

You moved to lie down with him, and he begrudgingly pulled himself away to get under the covers, dragging his body to tuck under his quilts.

He eyed you from under heavy lids, and furrowed his brows, unhappy — before grabbing the front of your shirt and tugging you towards him.

You followed his hands with a goofy smile and he let himself grin back.

“C’mere, Chiquita.”

He settled his head under your chin, tangling his legs with yours and pulling the covers back over you both.

His arm slithered over your waist, and up your shirt, cold hands smoothing against your warm back.

Soft breaths tickled your skin and you let yourself relax, letting his rising chest lull you to sleep.

He pressed soft kisses to your neck, touch as light as a butterflies kiss.

“Eres toda una belleza.”

He kissed your skin again, muttering words of admiration to you that got more drowsy by the second. After a minute, turning into incoherent mumbles and soft tones.

You yawned lightly, and felt your own eyelids droop. “Go sleep, Miles.”

You kissed his crown, and he sighed against you, dragging his head to look up at you and fighting off sleep.

He kissed your jaw one last time and you gave him a smile that could’ve flatlined him had he be a lesser man.

“Goodnight, [Name].”

You slowly blinked at him.

Your glossy eyes suddenly looked the best they ever had, and your skin glowed with a new found love he couldn’t describe if it killed him.

Your voice was softer than he thought possible and he felt like he had the first time he’d met you.

A small boy smitten. Riddled with an infatuation at such heights he didn’t understand. Love too big for his body, too big for his heart. So much of it that it spilled from his eyes, leaking into the tears he shed. Filled his veins, and pumped throughout his body. It dug it’s way into his bones and set in the hollow like the marrow that lived there.

It was too much for him, so he gave it to you.

And you took it.

You took him.

“Goodnight, Miles.”

—

BRO THIS TOOK SO LONG LMFAO

also ao3 is so fucking funny

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pastadoughie · 4 months

Text

MY NAME IS SPELLED WITF AN E AND NOT AN A get it RIGHT!!

hai! im rowen (he/him) and i draw thingse soemtimze!! im a queer (trans, intersex, gay) 17 (5-1-07) yr old furry artist :3 u probably know my blog for drawing many many silly kitties and miscilanious creechers, but i do other things!

i do requests (no ocs or fandom shit, ONLY silly) and i take commisions (i am working on a website to organize all the prices and stuff, but for now, just dm me if youre intrested)

i do all my art on mspaint (win10 ver.) unless explicitly stated otherwise, i just use the default pencil tool on 4px (the largest default size setting) witch is a round brush with no antialiasing

i use a drawing tablet, the XP-Pen Deco 1 V2 (Celeste, He/Him), and an ASUS Harman/Kardon i7 14.5 In. laptop (Chelsea, She/Her)

my blog mostly runs on a queue, witch is very long and only goes onse a day, so sometimes extremeley old artwork gets posted. for this reason posts that are recently posted are not nessasarily recently drawn. furthermore, asks sometimes take an extremely long time to post after ive actually answered them, so please dont resubmit things. (+ i have far too many askse to actually be able to answer them all. so asks that are very similar to things ive already answered, are extremely time consuming, or are just not that funny, are unlikely to ever be answered)

rebeast : is for reblogs of other peoples content

rowencatfanart : is for fanart people have made for me (if you make any please tag it as such, as well as mention me in the post)

the beast speaks : is for all my original text posts

retchid opinions : are for my own text posts where i actually say things of value and have an opinion on topics

screaming and scampering : is for when i say bullshit that doesnt matter

consulting thea council : is for polls of mine

rowens serious art : is for serious rendered art of mine

rowens liddol guys : is for sillies of all kinds that ive made

biblically accurate rowen : is for art of non-kitty me, for blacklisting purposes (i like to not be reminded i am a person when im scrolling thru my own blog) mspaint animations : for when i animate things on mspaint (onion skin is for cowards i let my heart guide me) rowens animatics : are for when i make, animatics, its really self explainatory. rowens advertising : is for when i advertise my products or twitch or commisions or whatever. for blacklisting purposes the mewsifixtion : is for when i give out easter eggs 2 ppl who send me asks. asks for this are currently CLOSED rowensumptions : are for when ppl send me headcannons they have abt me thru asks S teir wimpering : for the text postre ive made that r actualey funny rows gross old ort : for when i reblog old art of mine i tag all asks with the username of the person who asked them, so if u want to find a previous ask of yours i answered you can just search your own username i also try to tag asks i answer with the date of when they were sent to me, and the date i actually drew them, because the queue can make this confusing,,, i cant really retroactively see the send date of posts i made before this tagging change, so some we will simpley nevr know,,, dates are written in american date format. so month-day-year i always tag the software i use for each artwork, but its pretty much always MSPaint (Win10), though i occasionally do image editing in Asesprite

the gray and white kitty i draw most frequently is my catsona! he is not an oc and is specifically meant to represent me

i ask that you please do not use drawings of him as personal branding (such as pfps, banners, avatars, ect.)

the samething applies to my fursona, valentine, though his design changes too much to give an accurate ref for, i generally will specify in the tags

i am generally fine with people saying that my catsona is cute but please dont make any overly explicit comments about my fursona, or on my posts in general. i am a minor (i dont care if you say like, ouyhh bark bark i love men i get it hes meant to be attractive but use some common sense)

furthermore. for people who have blogs with alot of untagged sexually explicit content its best you dont interact with me, i have my age set properly, so i do not see sexual posts that are properly flagged, but if your posts ARENT flagged, and you interact WITH ME, then thats on YOU for exposing a minor for sexually explicit content

if you have minors DNI in your bio and make a whole song and dance abt how ggrrr!!! i block ageless blogs and minors!!! and then go and reblog my posts with sexual comments then thats on you. and not me.

i dont care that much frankly, about seeing joke posts abt penis or whatever, but there is a line. and if you are trying to curate a specifically adult space on your blog then you also have to put in the work to not intentionally loop minors into that

also. please do not act overly familiar with me, im a 17 yr old on the internet and not your friend. and while i am not opposed to meeting people on tumblr, there is a line and you need to actually build some kind of relationship with me before youre allowed to act like that.

u can find me on tumblr (duh) : @pastadoughie : my main @leftoverdough : is my reblog sideblog @scungledfiles : is the web graphics blog i run w/ my friend (@soggiedsocks) (though we havent been as active as of late cuz mentol ealness + i have been fopcusing moar on this blog) youtube : pastadoughie (i havent posted in 6 months ouhm, oops,) twitch : pastadoughie etsy : scungledthings (i also share this with @soggiedsocks, when contacting my shop you will most likely be talking to him and not me.) if you would like to contact me FOR COMMISIONS directly you can also do so discord : pastadough email : [email protected] PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ONLY BUISNESS INQUIRIES!! stupid shit should be sent via ask or tumblr dm. DO NOT FLOOD MY EMAIL!! i WILL block you!! --- Last Updated : 5-1-2024

#new pinned post verey kewl #the beast speaks #rowens liddol guys

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kitten4sannie · 1 year

Text

ᴄᴏʀᴘᴏʀᴀʟ ᴘᴜɴɪꜱʜᴍᴇɴᴛ

pairing: mommy! san x fem! reader

genre: smut

summary: a naughty student gets punished by her strict headmaster.

w.c: 4.4k

warnings: mean (ish) dom! san, sub! reader, pet names, praise, degradation, so much feminization (im not sorry), roleplaying, subspace, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, impact play, color system mention, nipple play (m receiving), spit kink (might’ve went overboard but oh well), foot play?? (he steps on her pussy idk), shoe humping??, oral (m recieving), deep-throating, facial, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: this is my contribution to the mommy! may event hosted by the lovely @whatudowhennooneseesyou <33 this was originally supposed to be something different and then i started to imagine san in a pencil skirt and yeah… here we are 🧎🏻‍♀️ if you were to take a drink of water every time i write ‘mommy’ you’d prob die of water poisoning kdshf. also this is just straight filth and i’m very proud of it :3

song rec: discipline by nine inch nails

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

As you stood outside of your husband’s home office, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, settling into the headspace you wanted to enter. After a moment, you knocked on the door. Buzzing with anticipation, you quickly wiped your sweaty hands across your too-tiny pleated skirt, unconsciously pulling at one of your plain white thigh highs as well. It was finally the weekend and that meant you both could have fun and blow off some steam. Your usual go-to was to roleplay, but this time you were even more excited because you had finally convinced San that it would be so incredibly hot of him if he posed as the superintendent of a university. As a step further, you encouraged him to wear some of your clothes to play the part. He obliged, of course. San never missed an opportunity to feel pretty and powerful all at once.

“Come in,” you heard a deep masculine voice come from inside the room, encouraging you to open it and gingerly make your way inside.

As soon as you saw him, it felt like someone had punched the air out of you. San was standing there leaning against his work desk with his arms folded across his broad chest, clad in an itty bitty pencil skirt that was cinched around his tiny waist, translucent pantyhose that were held by garters near the upper thighs, a pair of sleek black heels that he usually kept inside his closet for special occasions such as this one, and a simple white button-up that was neatly tucked into said tiny waist. A few buttons were undone so that you could freely view the curve that was present in between his pronounced pecs. It made your mouth water. The final touch was a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, complete with a small chain that was connected to either side of them. He was breathtakingly gorgeous. You wanted nothing more than to just rip his clothes off and ride his dick into the next millennium, but you wanted to stay in character.

“Do you know why I called you in here, Miss Y/N?” he asked, his tone short and curt, just like the skirt that clung to the shape of his hips. It rode up a bit when he pressed his ass down onto the surface of his desk.

You closed the door behind you and took a few small steps up to San, fiddling with your thumbs in a nervous manner and looking up at him with big doe eyes. “I dunno, Headmaster. I don’t remember doing anything wrong.”

He scoffed, running his fingers through his parted raven hair, appearing a bit irritated. “Surely, you must have some sort of idea, don’t you?” When you simply stood there and pressed your thighs together, San grabbed the bottom of your chin and brought you closer, his fierce gaze boring into you, a playful smirk tugging at his pretty lips. “Or is that brain of yours preoccupied with something else? Something indecent, perhaps?”

“N-no, Headmaster,” you denied weakly, giving him a tiny shake of your head, only for his fingers to squeeze into your cheeks instead, squishing your face.

“You’re a little liar, my dear.” San let go of your face and crossed one leg over the other, his skirt so high up now it made you wonder if he tucked his cock away. “Well, since you’re too prideful to admit the truth, I will tell it to you myself.” He looked you up and down, his eyes settling on the way your thin collared top didn’t do much to hide how hard your nipples were underneath it. “You’ve been a naughty girl,” he started, reaching over to run a thumb over one of your clothed buds, making you shiver underneath his touch. “And naughty girls deserve punishment.”

“How are you going to punish me?” you asked, clear arousal seeping through your words, despite the feigned fear etched into your flushed features.

San stood up from the desk and took a step to the side, his black heels pressing into the fuzzy carpet below. “Bend over the desk and you’ll find out, Miss Y/N.”

Without a second of hesitation, you laid yourself down onto San’s desk and arched your back a bit, sticking your ass out in a tantalizing way. Turning your head back to meet his gaze, you jutted out your bottom lip, whining, “I swear I haven’t been a bad girl, Headmaster. I’m good, I promise.”

“Then, what’s this, hm?” San questioned, lifting your skirt up to reveal the wet patch present on your panties, smacking his hand lightly against your clothed cunt and making you gasp. “You’re soaked, Miss Y/N. Only little sluts get wet for their Headmasters.”

“I’m not a slut,” you whined again, pouting at your husband, all while you spread your legs apart further for him.

“Oh, you’re right. My apologies.” San reached to the underside of your cunt and began aggressively rubbing it in an up and down motion with two thick fingers, his wedding band catching on your clit each time and drawing a few moans out of you. “Of course, you’re not a slut, darling.” He grabbed a tuft of your hair with his free hand and tugged your head back towards him, making your back arch painfully, his fingers still moving at a feverish pace against your clit, your arousal soaking through your panties. “You’re a whore. A filthy little whore that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Then teach me a lesson, Mommy,” you moaned out, your head suddenly being pushed and held down onto the surface of the table by San’s hand, his grip never faltering, your thighs already starting to tremble from the onset of your orgasm. You didn’t always mean to use his pet name during a more intense roleplay, but sometimes you simply couldn’t help it.

San must’ve not minded too much either with the way he groaned behind you, suddenly sliding two digits past your panties and shoving them inside your needy hole in order to finger-fuck you as deep as he possibly could. “Yeah? Mommy should teach his naughty little girl a lesson, huh? You want my punishment, don’t you, you filthy slut?”

“Yes, Mommy…! Please punish me!” you cried out, your cunt beginning to pulse and clench around San’s fingers, moaning heavily with your face squished against the cool desk, your breath fogging up the surface of it. “I’m so close, so, so close…”

Just as your breath hitched, San withdrew his fingers from your cunt and pulled your panties down until they reached your ankles, watching as your hole clenched around nothing but air and leaked arousal down your inner thighs. “What a pretty little cunt you have here, Miss Y/N…” He ran a finger down your slit to collect some of your wetness and popped it into his mouth to clean it off. “But I think I know of a way to make it look even prettier.”

“You do, Headmaster?” you asked softly, looking back at him, your eyes glossy and slightly red.

He gave you a soft, dimpled smile, knowing he was about to turn you into a mewling, begging mess in the next couple of minutes. “Yes, darling. Now, lay on your back and spread your legs for Mommy.”

Whining at the complete loss of your high, you slowly lifted yourself off of the desk and turned around, laying back onto it but on your back this time, holding your legs underneath your knees and spreading your thighs open for him. “Like this, Mommy?”

“Mm-hmm, just like that.” San sighed at your obedience as he reached past you and across the desk, pulling a thick black paddle out from one of the drawers. He stood at your side, running the paddle along your inner thigh, watching as goosebumps appeared on your skin underneath the cold leather material. He lightly tapped the edge of it against your hooded clit, chuckling at your tiny gasp. “I’m gonna play with this pretty little cunt of yours till it’s all red and puffy for me. Do you understand, babydoll?”

You nodded as quickly as you could, squeezing your fingers into the flesh of your thighs. “Punish me how you want, Mommy. I’m a bad girl.”

“Yeah, you are a bad girl,” he agreed huskily, reeling his hand back and smacking the paddle against your cunt so fiercely it made your entire body jolt. “Count for me, princess.”

“One,” you croaked, not able to think about how much your cunt was already beginning to sting when San slammed the paddle down onto you again, the edge of it hitting your clit. “Two!”

“Good girl.” San lifted the paddle to admire how red and shiny your folds already were, letting out a pleased hum. He leaned over and spat onto your clit, watching as his spit dripped down, before bringing the paddle back down onto you for a third time.

“Three…” Smack. “F-four…” Smack. “Nnngh…five…” You closed your eyes for a moment, opening them back up and trying to blink away your hazy vision.

Noticing how fucked out you were already starting to look, San kneaded your closest thigh with his fingers. “Color.”

“Green,” you answered right away, smiling softly up at your husband. “Please, don’t hold back.”

San chuckled a bit, tightening his grip around the handle of the paddle. Keeping his eyes on yours, he leaned down towards your pussy, sending another wad of spit onto your cunt, before continuing his abuse.

Smack. “Six!” Smack. “Seven!” Smack. “Eight…!”

“Oh my goddd…” you moaned breathily, lifting one of your feet up onto the desk so that the rest of your body could go comfortably lax. Now you were starting to leak like a broken faucet, your pussy so sensitive to the touch, if you just concentrated hard enough, you could probably cum without direct stimulation.

“Oh, you dirty little painslut, you’re so wet,” San mused in a gravelly voice, fascinated with the amount of slick sliding down your puffy pussy, pressing the paddle onto you and moving it up and down to hear the sounds of your wetness.

“Just for you, Mommy,” you sighed out, squeezing your thighs tighter, preparing yourself as San reeled his hand back for the ninth time and slammed the paddle directly onto your abused cunt. Instead of counting, you let out a choked moaning sound, tossing your head back onto the table. It hurt so, so good. You could hardly form a single coherent thought.

“Mm, I didn’t hear a number,” San chided, sounding disappointed. He ran two fingers down your stinging, pulsing cunt, idly flicking your clit with his index finger. “Good girls can count, right?”

“Yeah, I’m a good girl. I can count, I promise,” you reassured him out of desperation, blinking a tear away from how sensitive your clit was when he flicked it a few more times, watching as San tried to move his arm back further, but was unable to with how tight the material of his top was.

Feeling restricted with his movements, San huffed, quickly unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way and pulling it off, leaving him in his tight skirt and pantyhose. “That’s better. Now, where was I?” he spoke, mostly to himself, looking back at you and noticing your wide eyes and drooling mouth. “Does Mommy’s little slut have something to share?”

As heavenly as San’s abs looked pressing against his taut melanin skin, you couldn’t rip your vision away from his plump pecs and cute pink nipples, wanting nothing more than to squeeze and suck on them until pretty sounds spilled out of your husband’s mouth. “Mommy, can I please suck on your tits? Pretty please? I promise I’ll keep taking my punishment.”

San let out a gentle sigh, reaching down to sift his fingers through your slightly sweaty hair, caressing your cheek, then reaching behind your head to cup it, the paddle rubbing along your clit and making you exhale against his touch. “How can I say no to you?” He slowly brought you to his ample chest, chuckling softly at the sight of your clear excitement. “Go on, pretty girl. Make Mommy feel good.”

Sighing as well, you wrapped your lips around one of San’s soft buds, sucking and licking at it until it grew hard and pressed against the flat of your tongue. Without hesitation, you brought your hand up and gingerly groped at his other pec, squishing and kneading it inside your palm like a kitten would. “Mmn…”

“Fuck, baby girl…” San practically melted into your touch, accidentally letting go of the paddle and cupping your pussy instead, starting to palm it eagerly, knowing your clit was getting proper attention with how swollen it felt against his skin. “Baby’s making Mommy feel so good…” he sighed out, not bothering to hold back a whine when you traded one nipple for the other, latching onto it and nibbling on it this time, knowing how much he loved to be toyed with.

It was then that you felt your husband throbbing against your thigh, feeling yourself grow infinitely wetter just by knowing that his hard cock was trapped inside the confines of your borrowed skirt, the tip of it probably stuck inside the elastic waistband. It didn’t help that San spit onto his fingers and continued to abuse your clit, this time rubbing it side to side in a quick motion. “Mommyyy, gonna cum,” you announced against San’s flushed, spit-covered nipple, before lapping at it like a melting ice cream cone and sending him into a deeper state of pleasure.

“Uh-uh, little…nnngh…whores don’t get to cum, unless Mommy says so,” he replied shakily, wanting nothing more than to just give in to you, but knowing you didn’t want him to. He pulled you away from his chest, your shiny mouth connected to his perky bud by a string of saliva, reaching up to stick his thumb into your mouth and press down on your lower jaw. “Now, stick your tongue out.”

“Want Mommy’s spit.” Looking up at him with half-closed eyes, you stuck your tiny tongue out and let out a small ‘aah’, keeping your fingers busy by rubbing both of his nipples with your thumbs the same speed he rubbed your clit, flicking it as soon as he did it to you.

Letting out an almost pornographic sounding moan from how overstimulated his chest was starting to feel, San drew a fair amount of saliva inside his mouth, before pursing his lips and letting it drip down onto your tongue in thick globs, groaning at the sight of your eyes starting to roll up underneath your glossy eyelids as you swallowed it down. As soon as your body began to convulse and your thighs trembled, San shook his head. “I thought I told you not to cum, kitten. What happened, huh?”

“I-i couldn’t help it, Mommy…It felt too good,” you panted out, going lax in his strong arms, trying to recover from your high after being teased for so long. Once San gently let go of you and took a step back, his hands on his hips, you sat up, looking up at him with a pout. “I’m sorryyyy.”

San smiled mischievously to himself, motioning to the floor with his head, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose. “On your knees, whore.”

Gulping, you slowly lowered yourself to the ground below him, spreading your knees apart for him as he lifted up one of his legs, giving you an upskirt view that made you pulse, before pressing his heel down onto your cunt, pushing and rubbing directly on your already swollen clit. “F-fuck, Mommy…”

San licked his lips, digging his heel further down on your slick cunt, moving it in a way similar to how he would if he was trying to get something off the bottom of his heel. “If the little whore wants to cum so bad, then she’ll cum using Headmaster’s pretty heels, now won’t she?”

“Yes, I will! Anything you want, Headmaster.” Smiling perversely and letting out a shaky breath, you watched San slide his heel in between your legs, allowing you to sit your pulsing pussy down onto the sleek plastic. “Can I suck Mommy’s cock while I rub myself on your heels? I wanna make Mommy cum.” Seeing his brief apprehension, you pressed your cheek against the outline of his cock, rubbing against it through the soft material of his skirt. “Pretty please?”

San bit into his bottom lip, reaching behind his back to unzip the black skirt, letting it fall to the floor and revealing that he was wearing one of the newest pair of panties he had bought you a few weeks back. He had on your lacy set that had tiny heart cut outs throughout the lavender material, his veiny cock too long and hard to stay within them, instead only cupping his balls, his shiny, reddened tip exposed and dripping for your viewing pleasure. “Are you going to let Mommy throat-fuck you?”

“Mommy can use me all he wants,” you replied obediently, not even bothering to swallow all the saliva that had filled the inside of your mouth from looking at your husband’s soft curves being hugged tightly by your borrowed panties. Once you opened your mouth, San plugged it up with his thick length. You immediately got to work, hollowing your cheek and using your tongue to slide across the underside of his cock. Almost simultaneously, you began to move your hips in a fluid fashion, letting out muffled moans as you dragged yourself across his high heel.

“Look at you. You're such a filthy little girl.” San groaned from the feeling of your moans vibrating onto his sensitive skin, slowly sliding his fingers past your hair on either side of your head and clutching it somewhat tightly. “Now, Mommy’s gonna use you like a cocksleeve, alright?”

“Mm-hmm!” you encouraged him with a small nod of your head, running your hands up his muscular thighs, feeling the smooth nylon material underneath your fingertips.

With his eyes barely open, San pushed himself past your tight throat and began thrusting harshly into it, short, desperate gasps and groans escaping his throat. “Yeahhh–oh, fuck, that’s it…”

Tears began to run down your cheeks, San fucking your mouth so deeply, his pubic hair repeatedly tickled your nose, the vaguely bitter taste of his pre-cum continually dripping down your throat. “Mmmff…” was all you could verbalize, speeding up the movements of your hips and closing your thighs tightly, feeling your clit catch onto San’s heel over and over, knowing you were leaking all over it and the carpet below.

When you began to massage San’s tight balls through the panties he was wearing, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. “Fuck, where do you want Mommy’s cum, baby? You want it down your throat or on your slutty fucking face?” he asked in between exhales, slipping in and out of your throat a few more times, before he pulled out and slapped his twitching cock down onto your face, his pre-cum and your saliva trickling down along your heated skin.

“My face, Mommyyyy, cum all over baby’s face,” you babbled, so incredibly dick-drunk, you could barely form your words without slurring. Your cunt contracted around nothing, one second away from emptying your arousal all over yourself, still rutting against him with unapologetic desperation.

San groaned heavily, blowing a few strands of his wet hair out of his eyes and fisting his cock as fast as he could, questioning in a deep, throaty voice, “Yeah? Are you gonna cum from Mommy spilling his load all over your pretty little face? Huh, baby?” When you whined instead of answering, he grabbed you by the hair and angled your head back further, pushing his cockhead against your cheek and smearing more of his pre cum onto your messy face. “Answer me, whore!”

“Yes, Mommy, I’m gonna cum…! Give me your cum, Mommy, please, please, please!” you cried out hoarsely, more tears spilling out of your half-closed eyes, grabbing onto San’s trembling hips and squeezing them, losing yourself completely when hot spurts of San’s cum began to land all over your face.

“That’s a good girl, letting Mommy paint your face like this,” San sighed, his lips forming a dimpled smile, his pretty brown eyes upturned with satisfaction. He lazily stroked himself, emptying the last bit of his load onto your tongue and tapping it for good measure.

Before you could swallow, San wiped the cum from your face with two fingers and pushed them down onto your tongue. “You wanna taste?” he purred, rubbing his salty release around, encouraging you to close your lips around him and suck, cleaning them.

“Mommy,” you murmured once you swallowed, your voice cracking slightly, legs trembling, trying to stand up but unable from how numb your lower half felt.

“Oh, baby, you made such a mess,” San cooed, smiling at the sight of your glistening thighs and bending down to lift you up from the ground before setting you down on the desk. “You’ve been so good for me…taking all of my punishment. Should I give you a reward now?”

“Cock,” you replied softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. “I want Mommy’s cock.”

“Of course you do, you little cockslut.” San nipped at your bottom lip, making you moan. He pulled away and rubbed your thighs in small circles, admiring how puffy and red your pussy looked. “How do you want it?”

Scooting off of the desk, you smiled sheepishly up at him, twirling a lock of your hair. “I want you to bend me over your desk and pump me full of your cum, Headmaster.”

Without a second of hesitation, San grabbed you by the hips and spun you around, pushing his hand down on your spine, making you lay flat against the mahogany table. “Filthy slut. You want me to abuse this little pussy even more than I have, huh?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” You wiggled your ass back and forth, glancing back at him. “Make a mess of me.”

San responded by lowering himself down, spitting directly onto your cunt and smacking it. He stood back up, chuckling at the gasp you let out, spitting again, this time into his hand and lubing up his cock, before slamming his hips forward into you, your greedy cunt swallowing him up completely.

“Oh my god,” you hissed out, reaching forward and gripping the edge of the desk, trying to get used to the low burn you felt in between your legs, being stretched out by San’s thick length. “Fuck me, please. Please, Headmaster.”

San began pumping himself into you with a fervor he didn’t know he had to offer, leaning his body over you in order to grab your wrists and pull them back behind you. “Like this, right?” he grunted out, the sounds of skin slapping and your heavy breaths filling the silence in the room. “Is this how a naughty girl like you wants to be used, Miss Y/N?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, a bit of drool falling past your lips, your upper half not even touching the table anymore with the way San was holding you and using you like his personal cocksleeve, his heavy cock pounding into you over and over, bringing you closer to the edge.

“Lemme guess, you want to be creampied, don’t you?” San held your wrists with one hand so that he could slam his palm into your ass, groaning at the handprint he left behind. “Hm? You want Mommy’s cum in your pretty little pussy?”

“Yeah, fill me up, Mommy!”

San tightened his grip around your wrists and tugged them in his direction, making your back arch painfully, allowing him to fuck into you at a deeper angle. “Oh, fuck, your pussy’s clenching around me, babydoll. Cum for Mommy,” he growled, drilling himself into your g-spot until he made you squirt onto his cock.

“So good, so good, it’s so goodddd,” you mewled, your wrists beginning to feel numb from how tight his grip was. Your legs trembled beneath you, feeling like jelly. You would’ve crumbled onto the floor like a ragdoll, but you couldn’t, at least not until your Mommy gave you what you wanted.

After a few more pumps inside your slick, tight hole, San let go of your wrists and collapsed down onto your back, huffing and puffing into your ear. “Here it comes, you filthy little girl. Here’s Mommy’s cum, just for you…Oh, god, just for you.” He let out a long, drawn-out moan that sounded more like a whine, sloppily thrusting into you until his hot load shot out and coated your walls.

You both laid there for a hot minute, trying to catch your breath and come down from your highs. San lifted himself off from you, only for your legs to finally give out, urging him to lift you up into his arms bride style. “Are you okay, pretty girl? I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

“Not at all, Mommy. You were perfect,” you chimed, reaching up to caress his sweaty cheek, admiring the rosy blush imprinted on his skin.

San smiled at you and pressed his lips onto yours, only pulling away when he had to take a breath.

“Headmaster?”

“Yes, Miss Y/N?” he asked, nuzzling your cheek with his own.

You hummed at the warmth of his skin on yours, giggling a bit, looking up at him, your eyes full of stars. “Can you teach me another lesson next weekend?”

➽───────────────❥

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#cultofdionysusnet #mommy may #ateez #ateez smut #san ateez #san smut #san x reader #ateez imagines #kpop smut #choi san #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios

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makethosenarratorsfight · 6 months

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UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; THE FINAL FINAL

Shen Qingqiu Propaganda:

The entire series is told from his POV and the story seems like a comedy. The side stories from other characters POVs make the story sound like a tragedy. He thought that Luo Binghe hated him and wanted him dead while everyone else knew that Binghe was in love with him.

the whole book he’s using his OWN interpretation of the world to explain literally everything, not knowing that his introduction into the world changed it so fundamentally that his prior knowledge of it is less than useless. he’s like “binghe is being sweet to me because binghe is sweet to people that wronged him before repaying their slight a thousandfold, and he only adds their acceptance of his sweetness to his tally of their sins!! i have to run away forever or he’ll tear my arms and legs off!!!!!!” and binghe in reality is like “wow the love of my life my beloved shizun is scared of me still :( i should act sweet and nonthreatening so he’s not scared of me :(“ and he literally doesn’t have this corrected until the end of the book. but even when that one thing is corrected he still is like “haha okay but these other six things-“ bro……. cucumber bro………….. you homosexualized the world just accept it

He examines the entire reality he's isekai-ed into as if it's still fictional and his inner monologue ignores any "character trait" of the people around him that doesn't fit into his perception of "canon" despite everything he's done to change reality from the canon of the novel he first read. He routinely mislabels his own emotions as well as making heteronormative assumptions about himself and the people around him before he finally realises he's in reciprocated gay love with a man. It's a book that benefits being read twice, so the second time around you can focus on the implications Shen Qingqiu blatantly misses.

Transmigrates into a novel he “hates,” assumes he’s doing a good job pretending to be the character whose body he got stuck in, assumes other characters will stick to their original paths. Lotta assumptions, lots of rationalizing, lots of incredible feats of misunderstanding/misinterpreting things. His internal narration is also hysterical.

Lemony Snicket Propaganda:

(I would like to preface this by saying that Lemony Snicket is the author's pen name, not a real person, and he exists as a character in-universe as well as being the one in-universe who writes the books!) I'd say he's unreliable because he spent time collecting information about the Baudelaire kids and then... wrote books about it. He has no idea what any of their dialogue actually was, what they were thinking, or even the whole plot, he's just doing research into the incidents and then filling in the gaps to make it a story. What ACTUALLY happened to the Baudelaires? Nobody really knows for sure

While the Baudelaire siblings are in potentially life threatening danger, he will randomly start talking about his own life and just leave the siblings hanging. For example, once Count Olaf was threatening to kill Violet, and then Lemony randomly began talking about how he met the love of his life at a costume party. This man CANNOT stay on topic. Usually when a new character is introduced, Lemony tells us right at the start that they’re either going to die or that the Baudelaire siblings will never see them again. Foreshadowing is not subtle in these books. CONSTANTLY emphasizes how miserable he feels while writing these books. At one point he admits that he had to put his pencil down and go cry for a while because of how sad it made him. Once he filled an entire page with nothing but the word “ever” to emphasize how dangerous it is to put forks in electrical outlets. He also repeated a paragraph about deja vu later on in the book to give the reader deja vu.

#unreliable narrators #final final #polls #unreliable narrator battle #shen qingqiu #sqq #svsss #scum villain #scum villain self saving system #lemony snicket #a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue books #asoue netflix

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toychest321 · 2 months

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Finding information on Jamila wasn't particularly easy, but from what I can gather...

(credit to @eepop-stuffs btw for getting her on my radar!)

Jamila was first released in 2006 by Simba Toys Middle East. According to an article published upon her debut at the 2006 Middle East Toy Fair in Dubai, her prototype initially intended to include fashions representing Turkey, Bangladesh, and Indonesia. However, these concepts never made it to final release, and we unfortunately have no photos of what they would have looked like.

Her initial lineup consisted of four dolls: herself, her male Arabic friend Jamil, her Indian friend Sunayana, and her Egyptian friend Kareema.

The name Jamila means "beautiful", and she seems to have only really been released with one outfit. She wore a black abaya with silver detailing with black shoes, and underneath wore a light blue tanktop with a white pencil skirt. Like her friends Sunayana and Kareema, Jamila has dark hair, brown eyes, and henna on her hands and feet.

(Credit to Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

For those unaware, Henna is a form of body decoration which originated from Africa and the Middle East, used with a natural dye from the Mehendi (lawsonia inermis). It is commonly tied to religious ceremonies such as engagements, weddings, Diwali, and Eid!

For Eid Al-Fitr, Henna would be applied towards the end of Ramadan as a symbol of the earthly delight of being alive. Jamila (and Sunayana if we're to believe they had identical Henna) seems to have eye imagery in hers, which represents protection from evil thoughts or wishes. It's also found on the top of her hands, also symbolizing protection, and on her feet, meant to soothe the nerves.

The name Jamil means "handsome". Jamil was initially released clean-shaven, but it seems later releases gave him facial hair. This might have been around the same time he was changed from Jamila's male friend to her husband, likely because (although opposite-sex friendships aren't explicitly forbidden) certain Muslims worry such friendships might result in inappropriate romantic thoughts. While this doesn't seem to be a unanimous belief across the board (many believing opposite-sex friendships are fine so long as you're careful), it might have caused enough controversy that Simba felt the need to marry the two so there weren't any implications. (Credit to Jan Unwichtig and Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

Ngl tho he is giving me major Kenergy...

Jamil comes with a white Thobe with silver buttons, a white Serwal ( undergarments traditionally worn beneath the Thobe), a white cotton undershirt, a white headscarf known as a Ghutra (tied with a black band called the Egal), black sandals, and a small dagger.

I'm actually not sure why his doll comes with a knife? The closest I could find was the Kirpan: a knife or sword which serves as a reminder to promote justice and protect the weak, mandatory for Amritdhari Sikhs to wear at all times. However, although non-Muslims sometimes confuse the two, Sikhism is a completely separate religion from Islam.

If anyone knows what this knife might be intended to represent, please let me know and I'll reblog an edit to this post!

After they were married, Jamila and Jamil had two children: Asad (meaning "Lion") and Almira (meaning "Princess"), both seen in the first illustration on this post. However, I can only seem to find one doll release for their daughter Almira, and none for Asad. Jamila comes in this playset in her base outfit, while her daughter (who cries when you press her stomach) wears pink pajamas. The playset includes a crib and several plastic accessories, including two hair brushes, a blow drier, and a baby bottle. Not only is this only release for Almira, but this also seems to be the only other release for Jamila aside from her initial core doll.

Sunayana means "woman with lovely eyes". She has long braided black hair, wearing a blue Lehenga Choli with a yellow Dupatta. Like Jamila, she also has henna on her hands and feet. She wears silver bangles, a silver necklace, and what I believe might be a Maang Tikka. Based on her images on the back of the doll boxes, I'm fairly certain she came wearing yellow sandal heels as well!

Honestly she might be one of my favorites of the line, since you sadly don't see many culturally-accurate Indian dolls compared to other ethnic groups. I especially love the use of color, and just how much jewelry she comes with!

Finally we have Jamila's Egyptian friend Kareema, whose name means "generous" or "kind". She has pale pink undergarments painted on beneath her clothes, which I assume Jamila has as well. Weirdly enough, however, she doesn't seem to have Henna like the other two.

Like Sunayana and Jamila she has long black hair, which is kept beneath a white hijab. She wears a long blue overcoat, matching jeans, blue shoes, and a multicolored striped shirt. As far as I can tell, her clothing doesn't seem to have Egyptian cultural roots like Sunayana's has Indian, however her modest style of dress and hijab are common for most Muslim women.

I've been meaning to make this post for at least a full week, and it's nice to finally get to share another beautiful yet obscure Muslim doll! It's a shame this doll didn't have more releases, since I'm honestly curious with the direction the might have taken with her and her friends based on the prior illustration! Regardless, I'm happy I got to share her and her friends with you all :)

Ramadan Kareem!

#FUCKING FINALLY IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG TO POST THIS #dolls #dollblr #muslim dolls #jamila doll #simba toys #jamil doll #sunayana doll #kareema doll #long post

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rebirthgarments · 2 months

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Mohammed Hammad increased his goal for evacuation to $25k so that he can bring his 6 younger siblings with him!

I was informed by my comrade Brenda that the first goal was originally $10k to evacuate Mohammed Hammad and his mother because since he is under 18, he can only evacuate with a parent or legal guardian. But in this case, his 6 younger siblings would have to be left behind on their own, so @fedup4palestine raised the goal to $25k so that Mohammed’s whole immediate family can all evacuate together. Since you all have been so amazing and we have raised $9k in just 24 hours, I think we can do it!

[Image description: an amazing colored pencil drawing by my 12 year old student Mos @NicoCavalu made of Mohammed Hammad laying down with his leg propped up with the metal fixator on his knee. Hand drawn block text in red, black, white and green reads “Disabled 17yo Mohammed needs medical Evacuation immediately”. Red typed text in red reads “Goal increased to $25k so that his 6 younger siblings are not left behind alone in Rafah

givebutter.com/mogaza

There is a QR code that goes to the Give Butter Link.]

Caption continues:

I’ve had some questions from people asking about my vetting process and about @fedup4palestine and if @moh.2090727 is able to access the money for sure, so here are some short answers:

I or a trusted comrade have personally vetted all of the fuhnd-raizers that are under the heading labeled “Pal-eh-stienian Fundraisers Sky of Rebirth Garments is helping with” in my AllMyLinks. Half of them we vetted through video chat, and the other half were already friends of my friends from before the “escalation”. Mohammed Hammad’s campaign was already vetted through @fedup4palestine , and over the course of the last 36 hours I have messaged with him extensively. I talk to every one of the people that I have been working on helping every day (unless they lose access to the internet).

Pretty much all of the families I am working for are more than down to be connected with anyone and answer questions, so don’t be shy, if you are not supporting fuhn-raisers because you are not fully sure about them, just DM me and I can get you directly connected with a family so you can see how real they are!

Note: I am currently not able to add on any more fuhnd-raisers for me to personally work on (until more of them have been totally met)

@fedup4palestine is a very new nonprofit, they have been too swamped with making the fuhnd-raizer pages to finish and launch their website yet. They have their nonprofit status, and they use it to create the GiveButter campaign pages. I just went through the process with my other fuhnd-raizer with Seraj to make a GiveButter, and you have to be a nonprofit in order to make any campaigns there (I ended up using my fiscal sponsor Allied Media Projects’ GiveButter in order to make the auction for Seraj, which will go live in the next couple days!). GiveButter is now the recommended alternative to GFM, since GFM keeps shutting down Pal-eh-stinian fuhnd-raizers. This does not mean you shouldn’t give to GFM’s that you know are vetted, but it means that you should also work to help folks get GiveButter campaigns as well!

Mohammed Hammad has a bank account with Bank of Pal-eh-stein , and I have confirmed with both him and @fedup4palestine that he has access to withdraw the money from his fundraising money anytime he needs. He is currently waiting to withdraw until he now has the full amount for him + his siblings’ evacuation because he doees not want to leave them behind.

#news on gaza #gaza genocide #gazaunderfire #stand with gaza #war on gaza #free gaza #gaza strip #gaza #save gaza #gazaunderattack #disabled #disabled and cute #disabled and proud

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staarboyyy · 8 months

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YAYYY YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

I was wondering if you could maybe write something about y/n being an apprentice and Hoffman flirts with them even knowing they are in a relationship with Amanda 😧 It goes on for a while and Amanda gets tired of it, gets really jealous and yells at Hoffman then takes y/n back to her room and… you know 🫣 NSFW, maybe slight choking if you don’t mind writing it (if not that is totally okay!) just some dirty talk here and there also for example: whenever Amanda catches Hoffman flirting with reader she whispers things into readers ear :) Thank you so much in advance!

territory

amanda young x gender neutral reader | specified anatomy

18+ characters / scenarios - minors dni

tags / warnings ; apprentice!reader, jealousy, amanda being a guard dog, anatomical terms for vagina, degradation, dubcon if u squint, biting, sadistmanda

summary ; amanda catches you and mark going over your lastet work.

word count ; 3.2k

a/n; sorry for the delay, i really loved this prompt and writing for the apprentice reader, they are so silly! please enjoy :D

Amanda had a bad feeling about Mark from the start. How could she not? She saw that wicked look in his eyes, that knowing spark every time he glanced at you while you sketched traps aimlessly. He knew that you weren't supposed to be anything more than teammates, but that didn't stop him from trying to turn it into something more - Something like what you and Amanda had. Mark had always been cold, bitter. He spoke the truth with no hesitation, taking in breaths with the intent to speak words meant to silence others in the room. He was a force to be reckoned with to most; And yet as he watched you from across the warehouse, his gaze was disturbingly ... Friendly. Seeing this did not just make Amanda angry, her gaze curiously stuttering past the dooframe just as Mark crossed the room toward you. He squared his shoulders, shoes thudding quietly against the cement floor as his eyes reached the sketchbook in front of you.

You had been drafting for some days - It felt strange, almost like having homework due. John was a tough judge, especially when the traps were made for a truly awful person; In truth you didn't want to dwell on the details of the man this trap was for. He had taken things from women that could never be given back to them, and that was enough to drive your sadistic spark. The spark that made John give a slight tilted grin, not speaking as he steadily nodded, studying your sketches. At first his silence worried you, but when your drafts ended up pinned to the wall near his desk, you took to planning more confidently. It seemed John wasn't the only one to take notice to your determination, your pencil coming to a sharp pause as Mark leaned the weight of his hip into the creaking metal table. His eyes were still lingering on the page, jaw shifting with a slightly tilted head, nearly perplexed at the scratched notes and crumpled discarded brainstorm pages. Not your fault your desk was cluttered. When the inspiration hits you, y'know?

"What is this?"

Mark asked quietly as he moved to grasp and hold up one of the crumpled sketches. It had been discarded because you accidentally drew it comically uneven and decided it was too time consuming to try and fix without a ruler on hand. Mark gave you a quizzical glance nonetheless, looking between you, the warped drawing, and the others on the sketchbook before you. You had originally planned to draw a second picture, a much less fucked up version with the same pose, but you got hung up on the details. A small laugh escapes your throat, lighting up the cold warehouse for a brief moment. Why did he take notice of the wrong sketch? And why did he have to remind you of it's existence? The small pursed smile pushed at the corners of your lips as gave a shake of your head.

"Bad proportions."

"I'll fuckin' say,"

Mark's response suprised you slightly, the way his tone so easily shifted from a cold demanding one to an almost playful chuckle. He gave a slight nod as he re crumpled the distorted sketch, eyes casting over his shoulder to locate the trash can and - Oh. There she was. Amanda stood slightly obscured by a stacked frame of chains, the light of the warehouse casting long shadows across her face. She could feel the distinct searing hot shaking in her fingertips; She had never seen Mark laugh, let alone smile. It left a harshly bitter taste in her mouth, shifting her shoulder to shrug past the hanging chains. Her body moved slow, steps quiet as she approached you and Mark with the stealth of a snake in high grass. Her dark eyes were still locked on Mark's, the way his free hand hovered over your shoulder, how he shifted his body to face yours, the smell of his subtle cologne brushing over your senses. Jealousy surged through Amanda's veins in chilling waves, goosebumps pricking the back of her neck, fingers clenching into fists, knuckles a bright white. No one could have you besides her, this was true. But Hoffman surely had to know exactly what he was doing.

Mark's eyes narrowed when they met Amanda's. He knew that look - An animal primed to kill, a woman who would cage herself over you in a storm of shattered glass without a second thought. He swore a flashing glint of red soared over Amanda's gaze, her attention faltering as it caught the sight of Mark's hand. In one moment, his palm had laid for perhaps half a second on your shoulder, and the next, a shadow cast over your sketchbook, a figure standing directly behind you.

You had grown used to Amanda's silence when walking around the warehouse, yet your body jolted with a sudden twist of fear, moving to turn towards the figure just as Mark pulled his hand away. Your hitching breaths relaxed as you caught sight of Amanda, your expression easing into a small smile. But when she did not return it, it faded from your lips. You immediately recounted the past few minutes - Surely there had been no reason to be angry with you. You've been working, and Mark's been... Ah. The dots connected then as you peered over toward the man beside you, then Amanda once again. The woman wet her lips slowly, tongue rolling over her bottom lip before speaking in a terrifyingly calm voice.

"Having fun?"

Amanda's gaze locked with Mark's, her thoughts flashing with an ugly picture of him with you. Mark shifted slightly, a frown tugging at the edge of his lips. He knew that look in Amanda's eyes. That possessiveness that bordered on insanity. She couldn't place if Mark even knew about her history with you - The countless times she'd press kisses to your cheek in passing, the brush of your thighs when you passed each other, your quiet desperate whispers in her ear promising to keep quiet if it meant she'd touch you. You belonged to her entirely, she was assured of that every waking moment of the day. Every time your bodies tangled together in bed, swimming amongst the sheets to get comfortable, taking in eachothers warmth and staying close, whispering sweet nothings. You were Amanda's everything. She'd flay anyone, any man that tried to ruin that.

"Having a blast." Mark speaks sarcastically, leaning once again against the rusting table, palms splayed over it behind him. "Our friend here was showing me some of their latest work, which I have to say seems promising."

Mark continues, not even looking at Amanda, instead focusing on your drawings. Amanda, for her part, remained motionless for a moment, her expression nearly unreadable, her breathing sharp and steady. Your face flushed, cheeks warming at the sight. In another world, you'd be terrified of that look. Primed to kill, stalking prey with the intent to ravaging it. Her fists curled tight at her side, mouth parted ever so slightly.

"Latest work?"

Amanda echoed, not missing a beat. She still had her eyes locked on Mark. There were no words there anymore, just unspoken emotions that Mark caught wind of almost immediately. He rolled his shoulders, feeling them tense up slightly. He should have known better than to cross claimed territory. That became only more apparent as Amanda's slow pace began once again, coming closer to you both until her hands could rest on both of your shoulders. Her hands were just abit smaller than Mark's, fingers slim and familiar, silver banded rings wrapping over them. They were familiar, warm as her thumbs swept over the backs of your shoulders. It comforted her having you in arms reach, especially with Mark so close by. Her grasp was ever so slightly too tight, fingers flexing over your shoulders as her head cocked, eyes still on Mark. She lifted her eyesbrows expectantly, chin jutting forward slightly, motioning the man to speak with an impatient expression.

"Tch,"

Amanda's possessiveness was so intense, you started to question if that was really a good thing - But the way her hands were now holding you, stroking your shoulder in a comforting caress? That was definitely worth the way Mark began to shift away from you both. There was no helping the way you bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your pulse was picking up pace by the second under Amanda's cold grasp. Her large scarred hands made you feel safe. Each arching scratch or healing nick on her finger tips had a story, one she would tell you with a lopsided grin, nearly bragging. She liked impressing you. Though, she'd never admit it to you without a myriad of stutters and flushed cheeks. Her presence made you feel warm, a space of safe welcoming heat in the middle of this seemingly endless freezing warehouse. You were so comfortable with her hands on your shoulders that you stopped wondering what Mark was feeling. Your gaze cast toward the sketches splayed over your desk, mind dwindling off into all different directions, all leading back to her. Mark was always cold. You and Amanda had something different - The way her breath caught in her throat as she realized you were starting to relax again, the way the fingers on your shoulder gripped tighter just for a moment before she pulled back, as if to assure you she'd be back in no time - you didn't even glance away as Mark's footsteps echoed away down a dingey hallway, presumably to leave for the night.

The feeling of your back hitting the lush mattress of Amanda's bed took the breath away, but how her hands kept your wrists pinned to the sheets made you gasp sharply. The palms pressed softly against your wrists, sending shivers rocketing up your spine, setting your every nerve on edge. Her dark hair curtained over you as her nails gently raked over your body - She cherished every inch of skin, biting her lower lip as her eyes watched you wryly, pinned underneath her. You didnt dare push past this to see through the pulsing haze that danced across your vision from the unexpected rough touch of the other. You tried to swallow your panic down, but nothing could be done to keep the soft whimper from escaping your lips; It pulled a low purr from the woman, tutting quietly before bringing an index finger to her lips, a motion to stay quiet. Amanda leaned down then, her whispered words catching the shell of your ear as she leaned more of her weight into you.

"Shh... You know exactly what you were doing. Don't try to fight me now."

Your eyes darted back and forth, body shivering with equal parts need and fear as she chuckled darkly. The sound was pillowed with a dark intent, lips moving to trace over the warm skin of your neck, lightly glazed with sweat. There was a moment where it felt like you were going to pass out from the thrill of being Amanda's plaything, but then her lips pressed gently against your throat, tethering your mind to focus on her. The way her tongue slid over the sensitive space of skin, teeth gently sinking down, reeling a quiet squeal from your chest. It only made her bite harder, though perhaps you knew that; Perhaps she was right. You wanted to play cat and mouse? So be it.

You squirmed at the slowly building pinch on your throat, back arching as arms fighting ever so slightly against Amanda's weight. After a long moment, the pain subsided, her tongue sweeping over the harsh bite before sitting up slightly. Her eyes were locked on yours, though she was clearly looking through you, to some private joke you were not exactly privy to. Her eyes slid down your body slowly, her left hand releasing one of your wrists to dive underneath your shirt. It seemed a dangerous gamble, taking the chance that she'd see your skin bare, chest rising and falling with frantic gasps of desire, like this. But then, Amanda had been a risk taker - And in this moment, there was nothing more you wanted, those poisonous moments where every sensation she caused seemed to leave a permanent mark on your body and mind. She molded you, carved you like granite as she palmed your chest greedily, one of her legs shifting to spread your own. Her knee pressed lightly against your clothed heat, applying slight varying pressure with a watchful eye; She always loved to see exactly what made you tick. What made your back arch and breath hitch with a carnal spark. She craved to have that practiced to a muscle memory, to turn you mindless in the palm of her hand whenever she chose fit.

"God you're sick huh?

You tried to say something in defense, maybe even a witty quip to get her to smile again. You loved when she smiled in moments like this; Between the passion, the rough bites and harsh words - It was nothing less than love. She knew how much you adored her like this. Dominant, protective, trigger happy with anybody who dared get too close to you. But you were breathless, body shuddering with the pleasure her touch brought. You were at your most vulnerable underneath the woman; Even with no way out, you could think of nothing better than being right where you were. Not much else mattered except for the feeling of both her hands sweeping back down your chest and stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. It wasn't until her finger tips hooked around your belt loops that your dazed eyes focused. Her fingers were slim, scarred, veins lacing over the back of her large hand and muscular forearm. She pulled away your pants with a bite of her lip, kicking them away with distinct impatience; She wanted to taste you.

The cold air chilled your lower half as she worked at your jeans, a soft chuckle following as her finger tips glided over your hips, dipping into the waistband of your underwear. She took more deliberate care with these, her fingers finding the exact mark in the fabric to pull them down, leaving you fully exposed. She wasted no time in exploring the full breadth of your bare front, leaning slightly downward to press soft kisses along the hard pulse of your left thigh. It was maddening, feeling the woman in her element as she lavished attention on your vulnerable skin, biting like a starving animal; Arousal spun your mind, her hot breath and desperate tongue so close to your needy cunt.

You couldn't think through the fog in your mind - Only feel. Only see. Her fingers danced across your skin in search of its most sensitive areas, leaving strewns of light bruises on the soft of your thighs. Hands swept over your thighs with surprising gentleness, positioning your legs to rest on her wide shoulders. She didn't let them linger there, letting go to slip those same palms over your ass, pulling you closer to her with yet another dark snicker. The air in your chest seemed to catch fire when she spoke, her whispered breath causing your hips to sutter forward, whimpering needily.

"I haven't even touched you yet... You think Mark could make you this fucking pathetic?"

It was a sharp question, despite being spoken in one of the softest tones you've ever heard from the woman - She gave you no time to answer, let alone recover before letting her tongue dip firmly into the space she whispered into.

“You're mine,” She murmured, letting her senses all fall away from her head, her spiraling thoughts. She was quick to pull your legs apart from one another, letting his tongue ease over your cunt, starting down firmly at the base, one of her thumbs moving to spread you open gently, to let all her have complete access to you. You gasped sharply, instinctively trying to close your thighs at the sudden electric euphoria lashing at your senses. Yet when her teeth grazed over your clit, your breath hitched tightly in your chest, gazing down at her working at your cunt with the desperation of a starved animal. A groan vibrated into your heat, and you let your head fall back, propping yourself up with her elbows as beads of sweat rolled over your temples. Your eyebrows knitted together, one of your hands reaching to the back of Amandas head, hoping for everything that she wouldn’t stop no matter what you said.

“Fuck - 'Manda!”

You strained the words, your hips shaking slightly as Amanda pulled your clit firmly between her lips, the fingers once used to hold you down had been moved to ease into your cunt, her index and middle fingers sliding in with little resistance. You felt so full just from the pair of fingers, and when she curved them upwards, you could feel your thighs trembling, biting your bottom lip. The quickening tips of her fingers reached that perfect spot, the one that you could barely reach by yourself. You tossed your head over the sheets, your fits gripping the blankets beside you so tightly you could feel your fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. Amandas tongue worked wonders over the small area, her fingers keeping the repetitive motion inside of you; You felt a small fire start to rise in your lower stomach, spiking up into your veins, clouding your vision with stinging tears - Your body screamed for release, your moans aimless, begging Amanda not to stop.

Your squeals always seemed to motivate her more than anything else. Amanda used her free hand to pull one of your legs up onto her strong shoulder, leaning herself deeper into you - So willing to make you come undone just from her fingers and tongue alone. A smile reached over her lips as she pulled her mouth from you, her fingers not wavering.

“That's it...” She murmured, her dark eyes piercing deep into yours, expression contorting, able to see you finally cum around her thick fingers. Your eyes watered with the immeasurable amount of pleasure that reigned over your senses, head spinning, saliva falling from your bottom lip. Amanda shuddered out a sigh at the sight of your twitching heat, her thumb rubbing over your senstive clit harshly now, post orgasm. This caused you to try and pull away once more, head shaking instinctually. The sensitivity was too much for you, a strangled sounding out cry made Amanda chuckle casually, her teeth now nipping at the insides of your thighs as you rode out your forcefully coaxed orgasm.

When Amanda removed her fingers, she eased her tongue over them, humming with approval, eyes not leaving your dazed expression. She let your trembling leg slide off her shoulder as the air filled with your unsteady gasps, hardly able to put words together as the woman before you moved to sit on the bed beside you - You tried to move, lifting your shakey hand, finger tips numb from your shallow breaths, yet Amanda shook her head and returned your hand back in place. You needed rest, even as she pulled you into her arms and wrapped her thick quilt over your shoulders, keeping you in her lap while she gingerly offered you water and pecking your cheeks and head with kisses. Amanda would spoil you until the end, even if it meant reminding you exactly who you belonged to every once in a while.

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