#if you actually wanna talk about any of it feel free to send an ask or dm me but if youre just gonna get heated you can leave

[edenfire]

You have a dnd oc?!? tell me about him!

this sheet is kind of old at this point (he has a name now lol), but this is the gist of his personality ( ^ v ^) <3

i have a bunch more art i need to upload, so thank you for the reminder~

> here's Lillim's tag <

[teaboot]

I seriously hope you can job hop to something else cause you're not chaotic neutral man.

You're still a white Canadian whose actions and job help more the megacorps keep the status quo.

I really looked up to you but that's on me.

And yeah, I know security, cop shit and military pay good money but at the cost of my people? Fuck no.

Listen. I feel you. But there's a lot of cold, power-tripping bastards in this line of work and if I stick where I am then they don't get to have that.

I'm not a cop. I am not beholden to the justice system. Sometimes I get contracted out to people who say shit like "addicts should be put down, if you see any crackheads drag them out" and I nod and say "yes sir", and then I take their money and use it to buy those people coffee and a sandwich and tell 'em when free lunch days are at the church.

Boss sees me walking with someone and thinks I'm kicking them out, gives my boss great reviews. I'm having a great conversation with Connie, who used to by a stylist and wound up on the street after an accident that left her with chronic pain and a heroin addiction. Connie learns that there's a gap between two property lines nearby where technically nobody can call to have her removed.

There's a really sweet guy in town who's normally very nice, but sometimes flies into paranoid rage and yells slurs at people. Sometimes he forgets he's been banned from places and wanders in looking for a wife he hasn't had for nine years. Owner sends me to kick him out, and I ask "hey Mike, how are you?" And see where we are today.

One time there was a guy whose abusive ex kept following him to work, and I got to walk him to his car at the end of every day to make sure she couldn't get him alone.

Another person had a stalker who kept asking receptionists when she was gonna be there, when she was supposed to leave, if she was in today. I'd keep record of every time he came in, every time someone saw him, every time he violated his restraining order or damaged her things.

And when I wonder if I'm actually helping or not, or if I'm part of the greater problem, I remember that other people who work with me call homeless people wildlife and talk about how bad they wanna get an excuse to fight someone and I remember that I'm the one who knows where the blind spots on the cameras are, and thank God it's not him.

My position is fundamentally different from that of the military or law enforcement. I don't *need* to be buddy-buddy with most of these dickheads- I don't *need* to send people into the justice system.

I do single-person foot patrol. Nobody cares how I get the job done. They say, "Hey, faceless goon number three- make that bastard disappear" and I say "on it, boss" and give him tickets to disney world.

I once asked another guard if he knew that one of our regulars used to be an airplane technician. He said, "No, I don't talk to them". Blanket "Them". "Them" as in street people. "Them" as in addicts, or shoplifters, or ex-cons, or sex workers.

I asked why, and he told me, "it's easier if you don't think of them as people."

Anyhow, now I get calls to "watch that sketchy lady who just came in" and I say, "yes, sir" and leave her the fuck alone, 'cause that's Jolene, and people always think she's on drugs and aggressive but she's just deaf in one ear and slurs cause she has brain damage, you dickhead

so yeah, don't worry, I've spent a lot of time weighing the pros and cons of my vocation, and I still think I'd rather be in charge of my locations than someone like Darryl, who dreams of "cuffing a perp" and drives a car with Punisher decals on the hood

Also it's minimum wage but that's kinda tangential

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

[toruro]

LO$ER=LO♡ER

pt 2

tags: smut (18+), toxic relationship, pet names (princess)

a/n: someone get me out of this toxic!svt brainrot. or maybe send me more asks abt it. either work. if this is incoherent i'm sorry i've been smoking too much tn

thinking about your toxic best friend mingyu.

he's not too bad actually—at least that's what you tell everyone. you wonder if you're maybe trying to convince yourself of it too.

he's the sweetest, really. gets you flowers for any big occasion, treats you for every small accomplishment—he got you the coat you'd been eyeing for ages when you finally got the guts to kick your shitty roommate out, bought you your favorite box cake when you got that small promotion, brought over your go-to boba order when you told him you finished all of your work early and had an extra free day, and—you get it.

mingyu's the best best friend anyone could ask for, honest! which is why you're just a little extra lenient with him when he scared off your last talking stage.

it was an accident! mingyu swears! he tells you he didn't even know that you and jimin were talking like that. (you ignore how there are texts between the two of you from just three days earlier where you told him you were going on a date. mingyu's forgetful, he tells you.) one thing led to the next and the last time you and jimin were hanging out with your group of friends, mingyu might've gotten just a bit too close.

jimin called things off with you the next night. said he can't be friends with someone who's got a puppy on their trail.

all your other friends bring it up too. how you're both just so close. how you've known each other for so long. how you look so nice together. sometimes you shake your head and deny it. tell them "it's not like that!" that you and gyu are "just best friends!"

it's the little things, you've realize. the little things, that lead you to believe that mingyu isn't as sweet as he lets on.

more often that not, mingyu beats you to the punchline, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing your cheeks against his, grinning when he says, "well who wouldn't love their best friend when it's her."

you talked to him about it after the first time he said that. told him he can't let other people think that you're dating 'cause you're not. mingyu got a little pissed. pouted a little. told you that you were being a shitty best friend, 'cause a shitty best friend wouldn't push him away like this.

you haven't brought it up since.

maybe it's because you're scared of being a shitty best friend, as gyu put it—scared of losing him (because are you really anything, if not mingyu's best friend?). maybe it's because you don't wanna fight it anymore.

maybe it's because you're just a little too fond of the feeling of his big, veiny hands running all over your body.

"you like it princess?" mingyu chuckles when he clambers on top of you on his couch, pressing you into the soft cushions. you two share a wet kiss as you throw your head back, legs spreading instinctively to allow him to clamber between your legs.

slowly, he lips leave yours and begin to trail sloppy kisses down your chin, jawline, finally settling on sucking at your neck. you're not quite sure how you ended up in this position, but as your mind grows hazy, you vaguely remember the argument that got you here.

(mingyu might've blocked the guy you were talking to on instagram, from your account at that. you aren't sure how he got your password, but mingyu swears that isn't the point. why don't you trust him? don't you know that he just wants what's best for you? he knows that guy wasn't good enough for you anyways. don't you trust him to know what's best for you? c'mon, let him prove it to you ...)

"see princess?" he murmurs, slipping his hands beneath your shirt and riding the flimsy cloth over your stomach and bra-covered tits. he lifts his head up to gaze down at you, cheeks flushed as your back arches upwards and into his touch as he continues to rub his rough palms all over your torso and soft tits. "i know what's good for you ..."

the words reverberate in your skull when he starts to tug at the waistband of your sweats, pushing them down only a little so he can rub his fingers over your clit through the fabric of your panties. when you moan loudly, mingyu grins.

"there she is ..." he grunts, rubbing tight circles over the growing wetness before slipping his shirt over his head. "c'mon ... lemme be the best best friend," he pleads, and you don't even have a moment to think about what you're doing before you're shoving your pants all the way down so they pool at your knees.

"shit, gyu—please!" you cry out, eyes the painfully large tent that rests between his legs and under his jeans. because if mingyu is anything, it's your best friend, and you'd be damned if you let anything—anyone—get in the way of that.

read pt 2 here!

[roanniom]

feeling absolutely unhinged tn just wanna be eddie’s little HOUSEWIFE more than i wanna BREATHE

Come Home

Mechanic!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV sex / unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), titty fucking, recreational drug use and alcohol consumption, dirty talk

It’s a role playing thing more than anything else. You are a teacher and, as such, are very busy and a far cry from a stay-at-home anything. Hell, you’re not even married to the man.

But ever since you and Eddie had moved into the little third floor walk up in what could laughingly be called Downtown Hawkins (really just the overgrown main street), Eddie had been jokingly calling you his little housewife. It’s a title that sends shivers down your spine and a smile spreading across your face any time he utters it. And he does so jokingly, of course. You know how much Eddie respects your ambition and your hard work, so you’ve never had to worry that he truly wanted to see you barefoot and pregnant, stuck in the kitchen for the rest of your days.

But some days that idea is way more appealing than you’d like to admit.

On this day in particularly, you find yourself fantasizing about it more than normal. In the morning you’d woken up earlier than usual, roused by the loud thunk of a garbage man tossing a can recklessly back into place. Unable to go back to sleep, you’d extricated yourself from Eddie’s arms and tiptoed into the kitchen where you’d whipped up a batch of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fresh coffee. Way more than your usual weekday toast or cereal, mainly because you wanted to give your tired brain something to focus on in order to wake up more fully before work.

Eddie had stumbled into the kitchen, stretching and in his mechanic coveralls, with a massive grin on his face.

“What has my little housewife been up to this morning?!” His voice had bellowed through the small space and you’d dropped the spatula in order to walk over to him.

“Thought my big strong man could use a hearty breakfast before he has to go to work for the day,” you’d said with a humorous lilt, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling your body to his. Your words and actions made his grin grow even bigger.

“You’re so beyond good to me, you know that? What’d I ever do to deserve a babe like you, huh?” he’d asked, sliding his hands down and around to squeeze your ass. You’d squealed and pushed yourself further into his body.

“You treat me right in the bedroom, so I treat you right in the kitchen. Those are the rules.” You’d said it primly it as if reciting a gospel. He’d laughed and shoved his face into your neck, peppering kisses against your throat and cleavage till you’d screamed about not wanting to burn the last batch of pancakes.

The two of you had sat together at your shitty linoleum dinette set eating breakfast way too fancy for a Thursday. Eddie had insisted on pulling his chair right up against yours and keeping his hand on your thigh even while he devoured forkfuls of eggs and pancakes with abandon.

By the time you were driving home from work, however, the phantom feeling of the weight of his hand on your thigh from the morning still hadn’t dissipated. It had been a half day, allowing the students to leave early in order to theoretically study for finals (but you heard tell of a bonfire that was going to be happening down by the lake so you held no delusions that the free time would be utilized by any for actual academic purposes). So this meant you were going to be home way ahead of Eddie today.

Your first thought upon waking through the front door is that you should masturbate. You’d been feeling so confined by your clothes all day and had been feeling needy since you’d kissed your boyfriend good bye on your way out the door.

So you march right into your shared bedroom, strip down to your sensible underwear, light a candle, and lay across your bed. You hadn’t had to get yourself off in a good long while. Eddie kept you good and satisfied, the insatiable man that he is. You do your best to get in the right mindset, breathing deeply running your hands along your body.

You catch a glimpse of yourself, however, in the mirror across the room and you frown. Maybe your underwear is too sensible. Gliding to your dresser you dig in one of your drawers and pull out the lingerie you’d been planning on surprising Eddie with on his birthday. It’s lacy and see through and your heart rate kicks up just at the thought of the way you know his jaw will drop and his eyes will widen at the sight of you.

Once your curves are encased in the fine fabric, you lay down on the bed once more. Hands slide up to you with your nipples through the fabric and you sigh. It feels good. Not as good as it would if it was Eddie touching you…but good.

You roll onto your stomach and look at the clock. 2:00 pm.

Fuck.

Eddie wouldn’t be home for hours. The injustice of that fact makes you pout and roll petulantly back over onto your other side. This new position gives you a straight line of sight to Eddie’s old black lunch pail and you perk up. This might be your best bet to loosening up and finding pleasure on your own. 

~*~

It’s 2:45pm when the shop phone rings. Eddie doesn’t look up from the car that he’s working on, instead ducking his head further under the hood and squinting at the engine that’s been giving him a hard time. 

“Eds! It’s your girl calling!” 

Eddie stands up straight so fast he bangs his head hard on the underside of the hood. 

“Motherfuck,” he mutters to himself, rubbing a grease-stained hand on the part of his head that was sure to soon form a bump. He makes his way over to the little office of the mechanic shop and takes the phone from his uncle’s outstretched hand with an appreciative nod. 

“Baby? What’s up? Is everything okay?” Eddie’s apprehension is clear. You never call him at work. Not because you don’t want to but because your days are usually both so busy there’s barely any chance to do so. 

“Eddie!” you cry out over the phone, your voice high and bright. “I miss you. Come home.”

Eddie’s a bit startled by your demand, immediately checking his watch. Just as he thought, it’s still really early in the afternoon. 

“Why are you home so early? Are you sick?” His heart starts thudding over the possibilities when he hears your musical laugh. 

“No it’s a half day at work, silly. Remember?” 

Eddie shakes away his fears and laughs along. 

“Oh sorry sweetheart, completely forgot.” He tosses a glance back into the shop at all the cars he still has to get to. “Must be nice. Getting into any trouble with your free time?”

He asks the question lightly. Joking. Fully expecting you to say you’re about to go grocery shopping or you’re watching a shitty movie on tv or reading one of your paper backs. But then you mumble.

“Well...maybe just a little.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and a huff of a chuckle escapes his lips. 

“Oh yeah? What’s my girl up to, huh?”

There’s the rustle of fabric over the line and then your voice is low. 

“I’ve needed you since you left this morning Eddie. Can’t take care of myself as good as you can,” you say, practically moping. Eddie’s stomach flips and he slams his back against the wall next to the phone, making sure he can no longer be seen in the doorway from the shop. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart are you...are you touching yourself?”

“I was trying to. It’s getting a little easier now that the edible is kicking in,” you say, sounding far off for a second like you’re thinking real hard about it.

“Now that the…” Eddie’s face splits in a massive grin and he rubs a hand over his eye. “So you’re telling me you’re high right now?”

“It’s kicking in, yeah,” you whisper cheekily and he can guess you’re smiling.

“So you mean to tell me that you’re high…and horny…and calling - begging - for me to come home and fuck you?” Eddie closes his eyes and squeezes the phone cord so tightly that he’d worry it would snap if he actually gave a fuck. His low, almost growling words cause you to moan over the phone and his knees go weak.

“Yes, Eddie. Need you so bad. Can you come take care of me? Please?”

Eddie doesn’t reply, not directly to you. Instead he turns toward the shop and cries out, loud enough that you hear it and descend into giggles.

“Uncle Wayne, I’ve gotta go. Gotta…take care of something at home!”

~*~

When Eddie thunders up the stairs to your shared apartment, he doesn’t know that you can hear him coming from inside. You laugh at the way you can hear his enthusiasm in his rapid steps and adjust yourself, waiting for him to reach the door.

When you hear him step onto the welcome mat you wrench the door open and lean against the frame dramatically. Just on cue, Eddie’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Welcome home, baby,” you coo handing over the glass of whiskey you have in one hand. His eyes are so fixed on your lingerie that he barely notices what you were holding in the other hand until you busy yourself with it.

You bring one of his pre-rolled joints up to your lips and light it with his favorite lighter, puffing a bit to bring the burning end to life. The lap of Eddie’s mechanic coveralls immediately tightens as he watches your plush lips work around the joint.

“Fucking Christ…” Eddie mutters to himself before knocking back the entire glass of whiskey in one go. You pull the joint from your lips to laugh at his reaction, squealing when he slams the door and grabs you around the waist, dragging you into the apartment. “Where have you been all my life?”

You giggle and bring the joint up to his lips, delighted when he takes a grateful drag. 

“I’ve literally been right next to you your whole life,” you respond, referring to the friendship you’d shared since grade school, long before you both admitted your feelings for one another. 

“Well fucking stay right next to me, okay?” Eddie gruffly asks, burying his face in your neck. You hum your approval and wrap yourself around his tall, lanky frame. 

“That depends.”

“Oh? On what?”

“Can you fuck me now?” you ask breathlessly. Eddie pulls back to look at you, laughing, but you’re not joking.

“Of course, baby. But I just got in the door. Let me shower and - ,”

“No!” you say petulantly, holding onto him as he tries to step out of your grasp. “I want you like this.”

You begin kissing up his neck and he attempts to extricate himself. 

“Sweetheart, I’m covered in grease and sweat...” Eddie shakes his head but you’re nodding so profusely he stops in his tracks. 

“’s what I’ve been fantasizing about all day,” you clarify, biting your lip and looking up at him through dropping eyelashes. Eddie’s cock hardens that much more and soon you’re pressed up against the closed door to your shared bedroom, his thigh fitted between yours in a way that has you panting.

When Eddie finally pulls away from the act of devouring your mouth, you sag against the door to catch your breath, watching as he pulls from the joint that he must have miraculously continued to hold onto as you’d made out. He looks like sex on a stick as he stands there, propped up by the arm against the door beside you, joint between his lips, tousled hair sticking up in every direction from the impatience of your hands. His coveralls have been zipped open and pushed askew by those same impatient hands and he smiles under your scrutiny. 

“What brought this...enthusiasm on, babe?” he asks lowly. “Not that I’m complaining of course.” 

You wriggle under his gaze. A little embarrassed, but also wholly aware that it’s Eddie. Your Eddie. So you’re honest. 

“Wanna be your little housewife,” you admit shyly. His features crumple for a split second as he is entirely unable to handle how fucking adorable you are. But just as quickly he’s grinning. 

“Of course you do,” he says confidently. He places the joint back between his lips and presses his thumb against the plush of your lower lip. The tip of your tongue darts out automatically to lick at the pad of his thumb and Eddie’s breath catches. Your pupils are blown wide. You’re properly horny (and properly stoned) and a deep seeded desire to care for you bubbles in his abdomen. “Can you get on the bed for me, princess?”

Like a gentleman, he opens the door you’d been pressed against and bows you inside. You do as you’re told and immediately drop down onto the mattress, looking up at him expectantly like a puppy who is awaiting further trick instruction. Eddie wants to laugh, but his dick also twitches impatiently in his coveralls, reminding him action is probably the best next course. 

“Undress me?” he asks as the next part of his plan. You get up on your knees on the bed and drag him to you by the fabric of his coveralls. Tongue placed between teeth, you stare him in the eyes as you zip him down all the way, pushing the sleeves over and off his shoulders. The garment drops to gather at his hips where it tented at the crotch, catching on his hard dick. You whimper and reach for it but Eddie grabs your arms and winds them around his neck, pulling you in for a kiss.

When he pulls back, he has a smirk on his lips.

"Alright. Time for a shower."

Your brows knit together immediately in betrayal and your arms tighten around him, trying to keep him grounded against you.

"But I - !"

Eddie shushes you and steps out of his coveralls. His boxer-covered dick prods insistently against you and it makes you whine more, rubbing into it as much as you can. But Eddie's having none of it. He pulls you off the bed, dragging you alongside him on his way to the bathroom.

"Shhh, sweetheart. You're gonna help clean me up. That's what a good housewife would do, yeah?" He comes to a stop in front of the sink, leaning you against the counter so he can pull back the shower curtain and turn on the water. You brighten up a little at his words.

"Yeah..." you agree tentatively. Eddie rewards you with a massive grin and before he can stall any longer, you strip down his boxers and nudge him into the shower. You tear off your lingerie and step in behind him as fast as you can, pushing your way into his waiting, dripping arms.

"There's my baby," he coos. The longer the two of you stand in warm embrace beneath the steaming shower head, the more his erection flags into a contented, semi-hard state, however, and you aren't having any of that. So you are the one who pulls away and gets to work.

You clean your man. Well.

Soap up and down the length of his body. Shampoo in his hair - which you can only access efficiently once he leans down to help you reach. He hums and groans as you massage the shampoo and then the conditioner into his scalp and the sound makes your entire body sing. There's so much intimacy in the act, and if you weren't so turned on that every nerve in your body felt like a live wire, you probably would have enjoyed it more. Once he's started rinsing off, however, you attend to your favorite part. Running your hands up and down his abdomen and tugging at his cock without preamble.

"Baby..." Eddie reprimands, his eyes closed against the spray of water as he rinses conditioner out of his sopping curls. He doesn't open his eyes or move to stop you so you take that as your cue to continue. You get him nice and hard again, aided by the shower water and saliva that you spit into your hand.

"Sweetheart," Eddie tries again, chuckling this time and grabbing at your wrist. "I'm supposed to be getting clean."

"I don't care," you answer petulantly. "You've kept me waiting."

Eddie's laugh is full-bellied this time. He turns the water off and slaps your ass lightly, stepping around you to get out of the shower.

"I know, baby, and that was cruel. Why don't you get dried up and put on another one of those little get ups for me. I'll get us another drink and we'll do whatever you want, okay?"

You fight the urge to groan in frustration that you're being made to wait yet again, but a good housewife wouldn't do that. So you nod and wrap yourself in the towel he offers you, bouncing back to the bedroom on impatient feet.

~*~

Eddie had gotten the upper hand on you, that much he knew. Making you wait had been cruel, but he knew it was better then getting you - and the bedroom - all covered in grease. He makes a mental note, however, to fuck you on his work counter at the garage one evening next week after closing time when Wayne was out of town. He's nothing if not attentive to your wants and needs.

He whistles as he walks back to the room, a glass of water and two cold bottles of beer in hand. He's expecting you to be waiting patiently - maybe even already at the door. But he stops short the minute he sees you.

You're spread out on the bed in a different lingerie set, this one somehow even sexier than the last (the second part of the birthday present you're giving him early) and he feels his entire body flush a deep red. You watch it spread down his neck and chest and rub your thighs together.

"Eddieeee," you call out, letting the second syllable become a whine. You might still be begging, but you're the one in power now, as far as Eddie is concerned, as he moves on autopilot towards you. You get up onto your knees and accept the bottle of beer from him, wrapping your lips around it lasciviously. Eddie chokes as he takes his own sip.

"Can I have it?" you ask, gazing up at him from beneath your eyelashes. Eddie swallows thickly.

"Can you have what, princess?" he asks. He knows what you want. He's just a teasing asshole and needs you to say it.

But you are tired of playing the game so you don't play fair. Instead of answering him you pull at the towel tied around his waist till it falls to the floor, exposing an erection so proud your mouth positively waters. You make eye contact as you reach for it, practically daring him to get in the way of what you want again. But Eddie's resolve is completely gone at this point, and he lets you have it, letting his eyes fall closed at the sensation of your hand wrapping around him.

You tug at him. You let your thumb ease over the thick vein that you so enjoy licking. You flick your wrist when your fist encases his mushroom head, coaxing a bead of precum out the slit just as you'd hoped.

Eddie takes one final swig of his beer before grabbing your bottle from you and placing both it and his on the night stand. You whine when the motion pulls his cock out of your grasp, but you’re placated when he climbs onto the bed and grabs you by the thighs, pulling you roughly under him.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asks, kissing a trail down your neck from your ear to your clavicle. “What’s my girl been fantasizing about in that little head of yours?”

A tiny half sober part of your brain finds humor in the phrasing of the question. You happen to know Eddie finds you to be the smartest person he’s ever met, so the diminutive nature of his words tickles the part of you that longed for role play like this. Tired of being the smart girl, the serious girl, the strong girl, right now you just want to be this. Eddie’s girl.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you coo. You can see the conflict play out behind his eyes at your response. On one hand he’s so fucking turned on by you wanting to please him. Like he can’t fucking stand how turned on he is. But he also gets off on you getting off, so he’s not sure how to proceed.

And you know this. You know your Eddie is the most selfless, generous lover you’ve ever had and you know that it must kill him to think of putting his pleasure first. But you furrow your brow and give him the biggest puppy dog eyes possible in an attempt to telegraph the fact that you need him to play along. That him taking what he wants will be giving you everything you need.

It’s clear the moment this clicks in his mind because Eddie’s features go soft. He rubs a knuckle lightly against your temple and smiles.

“Of course my baby wants to make me feel good." The kiss he places to your forehead and then the tip of your nose makes your eyes slide closed. So it's soft he wants, you think to yourself. Your heart rattling around in your ribcage doesn't exactly feel ready to slow down enough to match a soft tempo, but you'll work with what he wants to give you.

At least that's what you're thinking when suddenly you feel the bed shifting away from you and your world upended when Eddie flips you over onto your hands and knees. You scramble for purchase against the sheets and yelp in surprise, but you don't even have a second to get situated before Eddie is dragging you back against him by your hips.

"Gonna do so good for me, aren't you baby?" Eddie asks, deep and low from behind you. His voice makes you shiver, as does his hand which slides from between your shoulder blades, down the line of your spine, ultimately delivering a light slap that has your ass bouncing. He groans at the visual of his own making, gripping your hips with two hands again. "Fuck that's the ticket right there, huh?"

"Let me be good for you - oh!" You start off trying to incite him to finally do something but break off in a gasp when his cock begins sliding through your pussy lips, getting your slick all over his hardened length. The tip prods your clit and you buckle inward, so turned on and edged from the events of the last few hours. Eddie laughs and the sound goes straight to your core.

"My little wife that sensitive? Worked yourself up so much for me, huh sweetheart?"

The whimpering inhale to take in in response to that statement makes his cock pulse.

"Need you, Eddie," you whisper. Eddie hums behind you before pushing at your hip to flip you over once again. You're more disoriented this time, even more so when Eddie moves from his place between your thighs in order to straddle your stomach.

You gaze at him above you from your new position on your back and...fuck it is glorious. You try to make grabby hands at him but he ignores you, leaning over instead to the nightstand where you'd left his other pre-rolled joint. He lights it and resituates himself over you, taking a deep drag and dropping his head back as he holds the smoke deep in his lungs while stroking his cock over you with his free hand.

"Jesus Christ..." you mutter to yourself at the debaucherous image above you. You lift up onto your elbows to get closer and he rolls his head back toward you, opening his eyes half mast to blow smoke in your direction. When the cloud clears you see his lazy grin, red-rimmed eyes sweeping up and down your figure.

"This do it for ya?" he asks, playfully. You nod forcefully, unable to take your eyes off the head of his angry red cock disappearing and reappearing in his fist. The slide is loud and fast and wet. Wet from your own slick, your realize with a lurch of your stomach. Fuck you want him inside you. Reaching out a hand towards him, you tear your gaze away from his dick and bring it back up to his overly amused face.

"Can I help?" you ask, way too innocently for the context of the situation. Eddie pretends to mull it over, joint elevated in his free hand as his tongue slides over his teeth.

"Yeah, I think there's something you can do..." he says vaguely. You're unsure of the implications until he moves forward, pushing the straps of your lingerie off your arms, and it is suddenly abundantly clear what he is angling for - and you couldn't be more excited.

As Eddie brings the underside of his cock to rest against your sternum, you lift your breasts up on either side to sandwich his length between. Eddie watches you from above, his grin indicating how proud he is that you're playing along so quickly.

"There you go, that's perfect. Now could you just - oh fuck." Without him even having to complete the request, you spit on his cock, adding to the wetness still present from your slick, reaching up and spreading it over his erection in a way that has him biting his lip in seconds. "Look at you, knowing just what I need."

You smile up at him and push your breasts together again, moving slightly to let him feel the drag of your plush skin against him. Eddie places the joint back between his lips and leans forward to grip your shoulders for leverage. This allows him to fuck his hips back and forth, creating the friction he was seeking.

Though this act doesn't directly stimulate any of your erogenous zones specifically, the sounds it pulls from his lips and the look on his crumpled face as he watches what you're letting him do to you - it's got your pussy practically weeping.

"You're so fucking hot, princess," Eddie says around the joint before taking one last long hit and reaching over to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table. With both his hands free, he returns to you with renewed attention, dropping his palms to circle lightly over your nipples. Your eyes widen at the stimulation and Eddie grins. "Like it when I fuck your tits?"

"Yes," you breathe out in response immediately.

Eddie pinches your nipples as a reward and your hips stutter upwards into nothing behind him. Eddie laughs and begins thrusting a bit harder, wrapping his big hands around your smaller ones to help crush your tits even tighter around his cock.

"Fuckin' yeah you do. My perfect girl. Oh shit, just look at you," he practically grunts. You stare heart eyes up at him, watching him take pleasure from your flesh in the most selfish way while still somehow making you feel like you're god's gift to earth. The image of him - eyes blown black and lips red and swollen from biting as his cock moves in the valley of your breasts - has you letting out an unfiltered moan. Eddie's brow twists in mock sympathy. "Need something, princess?"

Your hips buck again and Eddie chuckles, reaching a hand behind himself and down between your legs to play with you where you need him most. He jaw drops at the feeling of your excessive arousal.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're soaked. I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he frowns down at you in faux commiseration. You shake your head but your eyelids flutter at the feeling of his fingers against your clit.

"No this is - oh. This is about y-you," you respond, squeezing your breasts tighter to try and get him to fuck them faster. Eddie ignores your statement and instead sinks a two fingers into your heat. Your body tightens and your eyes slam shut. The feeling of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit have you neglecting your goal and after a few minutes your hands drop entirely from your breasts in favor of fisting the sheets. Eddie's dick slides up and down your slicked sternum along to the rocking of your body. Watching it rub against your wet skin, watching your tits bounce freely while your cunt squelches loudly around the in and out motions of his fingers - it all has Eddie feeling higher than any strain ever could.

After a few minutes more of the best show Eddie's ever seen in his life, he eases his fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, pulling the bottom one out from between your teeth. The action has you opening your dazed eyes to peer up at him, breathless.

"Let's take care of that pretty pussy now, alright?" Eddie prompts, easing himself back to sit on the bed between your legs. You seize the moment, however, and disentangle yourself from him, dropping down to take his cock in your mouth. Eddie's hands immediately find your hair and he chokes on air. "Hey, hey, stop that, I said we're taking care of you."

"This is what I want," you try to say, but your mouth is a little preoccupied with his cock. You run your tongue up the vein you love so much. You let his fat tip tap the back of your throat, gagging eagerly when you feel his hips press forward just that tiny bit more as he loses himself in the feeling of you.

It's messy. Absolutely filthy, exactly how you like it. Exactly how you know he likes it. With your hands on his balls and elbows and knees digging into the mattress, you arch your back and make sure your ass sticks up that much more with each bob of your head. Eddie certainly takes note. You know because eventually his hand slides back to get a big handful of one of your cheeks before raining down a slap on your backside that has you slamming forward and choking on his length even more. Your eyes water and your throat burns. The guttural moan he lets out in response, however, is priceless.

You're more than a little disappointed when he pulls you off of him finally, holding you back with his hands under your arms like you're a child he doesn't trust to behave correctly.

"Now are you going to let me fuck you or not?" he asks, his voice absurdly tired as if he's suffered some great inconvenience.

You feel inhibition-less, both from your nice high and the result of being absolutely cock drunk at this point, so you giggle and draw a line down from his jaw, over his neck and clavicle, and down to circle one of his nipples.

"You've already fucked me," you tease with a voice hoarse from his dick. You lean forward in spite of his hold on you and lick a stripe from peck to peck, kitten licking his other nipple and up the expanse of his tattoo. "In two different ways, actually."

Eddie, now fully riled up and aching, has had enough of your teasing (though to be fair he's done much worse to you so far today). He pulls you back into sitting position and grips your jaw lightly to force your roving eyes to focus on his.

"I want to fuck you properly now," he enunciates dramatically. You nod his grip and he nods along with you, trying to hide the grin growing on his lips. "What'll it be? Back or hands and knees?"

Before he's even finished asking, though, you've pulled out of his light grasp and scrambled around on the bed, dropping to your forearms and presenting your ass to him. Eddie groans, deep and low, and squeezes at your hips and waist almost too tightly. Almost. Instead you moan at the bruising feeling and wiggle your ass to beg for more.

The sight of you in front of him, primed and ready and all covered in lace has Eddie's mouth positively watering. He realizes, however, that you're still trussed up in your lingerie. The straps are down and your tits are out, and he'd moved the gusset of your panties to the side to finger you, but there are still parts of your body obscured by fabric. And that just doesn't sit right with him.

There are a few ties in the back that he attempts to fidget with, but his impatience gets the better of him after just a few moments. He grips two handfuls of the material and wrenches the body suit in two, straight down the middle.

"Eddie!" you chastise, high and loud. It ends on an incredulous laugh because, regardless of how absurd and immature the action was, it's also incredibly hot. "This was supposed to be a birthday present for you!"

"Well fuck, baby. I had to unwrap it first, jeez," Eddie laughs right back. He pulls the tattered remains of the ruined garment off, tossing it away from the bed, before grabbing you by the front of your thighs and slamming your body back against him. The two of you let out twin moans at the impact. His cock slides around in your slick for a moment, but you're no longer waiting around. You reach down and guide him inside you without any further preamble.

The stretch is still immense, regardless of the excessive foreplay. He's always been a lot to take, and your body is somehow always still shocked by his sheer size. But Eddie anticipates this, of course, so his finger is on your clit within seconds, working you through the initial ache and bringing you quickly into a throbbing, expectant pleasure.

"This pussy's been waiting for me, hasn't she," Eddie whispers right in your ear. His chest is on your back as his hips begin rolling, bringing him in and out of you.

"N-needed you for so long, Eddie," you whimper, cheek pressing into the sheets. Eddie tsks and places kisses to the base of your neck and shoulders.

"I know, baby. You've been so good, waiting for me to come home and take care of you."

“Always waiting for you to come home,” you whimper. Eddie knows it’s just part of the role play. He knows you have work and your own hobbies and friends and a life on top of the one you share with him. Realistically you aren’t sitting around at home waiting for him. But the memory of your voice so sweetly begging him on the phone and the memory of you greeting him at the door in lingerie mixes with the sensory overload he’s experiencing inside you. It makes his cock twitch and his fingers grip your waist with a bruising pressure that you love.

“I know, princess,” he hums, dropping down over you again so that his chest is to your back, hands propping him up on the mattress on either side of you. With one hand Eddie pulls your hair aside so he can pepper light kisses to the back of your neck. A stark contrast to the unforgiving, pendulous thrust of his hips.

“Maybe I should just keep you here,” he says breathlessly after a few minutes that are silent save for the wet slap of skin on skin. He feels you shudder beneath him and continues, lips catching your earlobe. “Keep you naked and wet and waiting on this bed for me at all times. Filled with my cum. Covered in it.”

You inhale sharply at his words and your lips pull into a dramatic o. Eddie feels you clench around him and is more than aware of what this is doing to you.

So of course he continues.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be my pretty little thing?”

You nod your head erratically into the mattress, practically beside yourself at this point. It’s exactly what you want, at least for the purposes of this fantasy. The weight of Eddie against you and the steady way his cock pummels that sweet spot inside you has your eyes rolling back in your head as your lids drop. It has your toes curling and your brain going fuzzy, like static with an untuned radio station. Every nerve ending in your body has evaporated save for the ones between your thighs which receive all of the attention they could ever need.

“Tell me you’re mine, baby,” Eddie says abruptly. Your hazy mind struggles to comprehend his words but understanding seeps through, as does the memory that for as much as you love praise, your man feeds off it as well.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you gasp, the words twisting in a whine. His finger has found your clit again and it’s just unfair how ducking good it feels. You arch your back into the feeling, widening your legs to encourage him even deeper. The sight and your words has Eddie gritting his teeth.

“Oh fuck this,” he says suddenly, abruptly pulling out and flipping you onto your back. The sudden motion and the unwelcome emptiness has you dazed and your stare at the ceiling in confusion, blind to the way Eddie adjusts you. He lifts your hips up to slide a pillow under the small of your back, elevating you and extending your legs. In this new position the backs of your thighs meet the tops of his, your knees hooking on his hips while his knees dig into the mattress.

Hearing a shick shick shick sound that doesn’t correspond with the feeling of his dick re-entering you is both disorienting and upsetting, so you tip your chin to your chest in an effort to get a glimpse of him tugging on his slicked cock. However, that’s the exact moment that Eddie leans over you and fills your field of vision with his beautiful face.

“Sorry, princess. Needed to see your eyes while you said you were mine.” His words are so sweet, but he subverts the sweetness by choosing that exact moment to breach your entrance again.

“Oh god. Eddie - oh.” Your eyes slam shut to keep from crossing while you struggle up fathom the deliciousness of his first inward thrust. When his rhythm picks up, however, you feel his big warm palm press against your cheek before giving it a feather light tap to gain your attention.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Eddie coos. You do as he says, squinting up at him to take in his massive, pleased smile. His hair is stuck to his temples, whether still wet from the shower or sweaty from exertion you’re unsure. All you are sure of is that fact that he is gorgeous. His eyes that shine down on you with so much love, the dimples that sink into his cheek to make space for his joy, his lips that move as they say your name. The whole picture has your brain screaming mine mine mine mine.

“That’s right, pretty girl, all yours,” Eddie agrees with a smirk. Your brain and drug addled brain must have caused you to speak your thoughts out loud but you can’t bring it in you to care. Not when Eddie is hoisting you up even higher against his elevated lap, causing your back to arch off the bed, your head and shoulders pressing down against the mattress for leverage as you bounce in his grasp.

“Jesus Christ, I want it. I want it, I w-want it Eddie…” You’re positively rambling now, scrabbling against the sheets for purchase. Seeking out your organs with legs that shake as the squeeze against Eddie’s narrow hips.

“And I want you. Wanna fuck you on the washing machine. Bend you over the - fuck - the kitchen counter while you wear one of those aprons and nothing else.” If you’re rambling, so is he. He’s so far gone in the fantasy at this point, so overwhelmed by everything he never thought he, the town freak, could want let alone have, in any capacity.

The gravel tone of his voice and the fucked out look on his face are what do you in ultimately. You squeeze down on his cock and cry out, wide eyes blind with pleasure and fingernails digging into any part of him you can reach.

“Oh god, oh Eddie!”

“Fucking shit, princess. You’re so tight, that’s - fuck!” Eddie has lost all intelligibility at this point. But that’s just fine by you, because you’re miles high now. Body tingling and seizing and floating, both from the weed and the strength of your climax.

You fall boneless back to the bed and register the fact that Eddie’s still teetering on the brink, every muscle tensed and shaking as he chases satisfaction. Your body is pushed higher up the bed with each of his escalating, punishing thrusts. He seems lost, and that’s what gives you the instinct to ground him.

Grabbing at his neck and shoulders, you pull Eddie down to you, causing him to catch himself on the mattress on either side of your head while you kiss him. It’s extremely one sided with his fat gone he is and with how much energy he has focused on pistoning into your soaked pussy. But it feels good nonetheless and you know it’s doing something for you to slide your tongue into his slack jawed mouth because it causes him to let out a groan from deep in his chest.

When you pull away you place your hands on both sides of his face and hold him there to make eye contact. His gaze is incredibly unfocused, and his brow is twisted in agony, but you keep the eye contact and make sure to enunciate when you speak.

“I’m yours, Eddie Munson,” you repeat the earlier sentiment, this time staring straight into his soul. Eddie’s entire body convulses then, just like clock work, and he buries his face into your neck and clings to you while hot ropes of his cum paint your walls. You hold him through it, even as his hips continue to rock. “There we go. That’s it.”

It takes him several moments to come back to earth, aided in his return only by the gentle feeling of your hands caressing his back and sliding through his hair. He hums into your neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin there before finally pulling back to look at you.

Your kiss swollen lips are still wet. Your eyes are much to bright and your hair is positively bedraggled. All surefire proof that you have been well and thoroughly debauched. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, but it also swells in his dick, causing it to twitch inside you in spite of softening, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your features settle back into a relaxed smile though and Eddie kisses beneath your eye.

“That do it for you, baby?” he asks, voice ridiculously smug. You reward him with a massive smile, but your shrug throws him.

“Yeah, but we’re just getting started handsome. We have the rest of the day. Thought you wanted to keep me in your bed, filled and covered in cum?”

A deep blush stains Eddie’s cheeks and chest as you quote the dirty talk he’d spewed in a moment of passion. But, not one to back down from a challenge, he pulls his softened cock out of you slowly, pleased by the way your smirk crumples st the loss.

“You’re right, princess,” Eddie says with a grin. He drags the reddened head of his cock up from your slit over your pubic bone and to your lower belly, sure to catch it on your clit on the way up to elicit a gasp from you. He smears the mixture of your cum and his there on your belly before leaning down and licking a stripe up through the mess that has you clenching around nothing.

When Eddie looks up to find you gazing at him with mooning eyes, he takes pity on you and leans back up for a kiss. A sweaty, salty, cum-flavored kiss that’s everything you, the freak’s lover and a freak in her own right, could ever want.

It doesn’t take long before wandering hands and massaging tongues lead you to feel something stiff digging into your hip again. You reach down and graze your fingers over his leaking tip and bite your lip.

“Make me yours again, handsome, and if I can still walk afterwards I’ll make you dinner.”

Eddie shakes his head deviously at your proposal.

“We’ll be having take out.”

You frown up at him.

“But I thought you like it when I make dinner,” you begin to argue, but then you’re crying out because Eddie sheaths himself back inside you with one thrust. Your pliant, wet, satiated body welcomes him without protest this time. Eddie grasps at your curves and nudges his nose against yours before moving.

“I do love it when you make dinner, baby. But the way I intend on fucking you, you sure as hell won’t be able to walk tonight. That’s a promise.”

And your Eddie is a man of his word.

~*~

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Hope you enjoyed ♥️

[muniimyg]

5: the oblivious // series m.list

note: okok... i'm sorry i have to taint them. i jus think... HE DESERVED THIS !!! ahwuhaksjf srsly i tried so hard to keep this fic pure n fluffy ,,, mebe next time LOL

warnings: jk fingers oc in the library :') ,, dirty talk ,, oc cums !! implied smut thru/out their convo ?? yeah ...

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “aao” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @rrosiitas @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

//

“Hey, you.”

Before you can turn your head, it’s like your heart already knows who it is. Actually, it’s pretty much a given on who it is. 

Jungkook catches up next to you, snaking his arm around your waist. He pulls you close and kisses the top of your head, followed by a tight hug. He squeezes you until you squeal free from his grip. 

“There’s a kinder way of greeting me that doesn’t involve squeezing my guts out,” you criticize him half-heartedly. "What ever happened to just saying hi?"

He chuckles. “It went down the drain after the first time I kissed you."

“You always wanna kiss me, huh?”

Pretending to be offended, he shoots you a glare. “Now, now… Don’t act like you didn’t come running back for a goodnight kiss—”

“Okay, okay,” you yield. “I get it. Can you—”

Without hesitation, Jungkook takes your tote bag off of your shoulders. Along with your books in your hands, he tilts his head towards the library, assuming that's where you're headed. You nod in response. Like second nature, he offers you his hand.

You take it.

With a smile, he adds, “Let's go. I got it, mi.”

Confused, you tilt your head at him. “Mi?”

He then scrunches his nose at you. “Figure it out.”

You huff but mutter an “okay, fine.” Although, you don't really think about it. You have a feeling you already know what he means.

With that, you continue to walk towards the library. As you do so, Jungkook walks beside you, happier than ever. He smiles brightly when you ask him about his day. To which he replies that it was the same old same old. He states that the only exciting part about today was that he got dismissed early from class because his professor had an appointment. Hence, him being able to catch up to you on time. On Monday's, you're usually at the library by 2PM sharp. He usually joins you at 3PM, making today an hour more special than usual. You laugh, joking that he's too into you. Jungkook doesn't deny it. Poorly, he utters under his breath; “like you wouldn’t do the same…” 

You laugh because you heard it. 

But more than that, you laugh because it’s true. If the tables were turned, you’d be in his position. You’d be the one looking for him. In all honesty, you don't know when that started... But it has and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Jungkook likes the mood right now. It’s a lot like the end-of-spring weather today. It’s playful and sweet. Moments like these are exactly why he gets so many butterflies when he’s around you. Maybe it’s because he finally feels like things are moving forward between you two. Maybe it’s because he feels your effort. Maybe because it’s finally happening. 

You have butterflies too.

They say love is only really made up of two things: choices and timing. With your entire heart, you can't help but feel hopeful that this is that.

This is it.

When you two make it in front of the library, Jungkook holds the door open for you. Happily, you head to your spot only to find it taken. 

“Oh…” you frown. “That’s—”

“Do you want me to ask them to move?” Jungkook suggests. "I can do it."

He says it nonchalantly like it's no big deal.

That's the difference between you and him. For many things, Jungkook's approach is much more confident and not personal. You on the other hand... Would rather eat the wrong order than correct the workers. It's difficult for you to feel like you aren't inconveniencing others. It's easier for you to suck it up and move on.

With wide eyes, you shake your head. “What? No. That spot—”

“It's yours if you want it... I know you want it. I can get it for you." He repeats himself. "Just tell me to, baby. I got it.” 

Your heart is touched by the way he validates your feelings. More than that, your heart is touched by how he understands and protects what matters to you. There's kindness in his actions. There's thoughtfulness and in a way, it makes you wonder just how well he knows your heart. Though it's just a spot in your favourite library; it's also where you feel the most safe. That's all he really wants... To be with you wherever you are the happiest. He wants it so bad. He just wants to sit with you.

When that realization hits, you can't stop it.

Your heart skips a beat.

“It’s… Okay, fine. Y-yeah, it is my favourite spot but it's also whatever," because wherever you are is my new favourite spot. "We can sit somewhere else—”

His eyes light up.

“I know a spot.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm.” Jungkook nods towards the other end of the library. Before you can think twice, he takes your hand and tugs you to follow him.

And so that's what you do.

You hold his hand tightly.

You follow him.

You set your butterflies free.

Jungkook leads you to the corner of the library. It’s a little secluded, bordered by bookshelves, and only lit by one big window. Your usual spot is right in the heart of the library. Where the high ceilings look magnificent at every time of day, and the busy atmosphere motivates you to keep going… This part of the library is sleepier. It’s hidden. It’s a little—

“I-is this where you go to make out with your girls?” you attempt to joke your nervousness away. 

Jungkook grins. “Jealous?”

“Only if it’s true.” 

He shakes his head, completely impressed with how you answer him. It’s times like these where he has no doubt that he likes the wrong girl. This is it. You’re the best match for him. He won’t have anyone else. 

He refuses to. 

Jungkook pulls you down to his lap, and as you settle in, he kisses your neck. Out of reflex, you hesitate when someone walks past you two. They chuckle at you two as if they know the spot... As if they know Jungkook.

You clear your throat and shift away.

Instantly, he notices and sighs. He isn't disappointed or annoyed, he knows you're shy. He knows you need reassurance. He knows to listen to you.

“___, if you think this is some fuckboy move I’m pulling… You’re right. But it’s not my move. It’s Jin’s.” He confesses. “I’ve never made out with a girl in the library. Never felt like it… Like, it’s just so boring and like… The lowest level of an exhibition kink.” 

“What’s the highest?”

Jungkook blanks out. 

“Don’t edge me like that,” he warns you. “Don’t ask if the answer has nothing to do with you and me.”

More than his head and heart, Jungkook feels like his dick might go crazy.

You laugh, as you get up from his lap and sit on the chair beside him. He groans and keeps his hand on your wrist as you move. Jungkook only lets go when you reach over for your bag and begin to unpack. 

He watches you as you prepare your notes in front of him and turn your laptop on. In complete disbelief of the direction of the conversation, he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

It’s like he’s in a trance. He doesn’t know if he’s even blinking. He must be, right? You’re the only thing that he sees. The only thing he can think of lately... And to see you so close to him? It feels surreal.

He’s so lucky. 

He’s so in love.

There’s no other way of putting it.

Over these past few months, you’ve made it incredibly difficult for him to deny his feelings. He can’t even suppress them anymore like the good subconscious fuckboy he is. You have not only captured his heart with your gentleness, but you have him mesmerized with every single part of yourself that you give to him. As time goes by, he isn’t sure how much more he can hold out before a kiss turns into something more or how many words he has left to use before the words “marry me,” escape his lips. It’s just so easy with you.

It’s so easy to feel loved and be in love. 

“Stop staring at me,” you hum as you read through your articles. You don’t even glance at him, but you feel it. You feel the desire to. You should give in… Right? Maybe—

“God, you have no idea how hard I’m trying.” 

You turn to look at him, lips curved into a small smile. “T-try harder… Like me.”

This time, Jungkook is caught off guard. Maybe you aren't as oblivious as he once thought you were.

“What do you mean?” he asks, moving his seat closer to you. You sit back and lean in towards his body. It's as if the work you prepared to focus on has completely lost its significance.

It has.

“I think you’re handsome,” you admit. You say it so gently that it comes off a little timid... Sure nonetheless. “But you don’t see my eyes popping out of my head—”

“You think I’m handsome?” Jungkook chuckles, feeling flattered with the way you're trying so hard to get past this nonchalantly. Nice try, ___. He plans to milk this out as much as possible. “What else?”

You scrunch your nose at him. “A little annoying to be honest. This is my study time, and you’re acting all cute.”

“So you think I’m handsome and cute?”

Rolling your eyes, you push away from him playfully. “I think you know know what you are.”  

Instantly, he hates the distance you put in between you two. You were just close to him… Why move away? He moves closer to you. You giggle as you feel him moving your hair from your neck. Sweetly, he kisses your neck and behind your ear. 

“Just means more coming from you… You know? Makes me happy when you think of me.”

“I always think of you,” you breathe, pushing him away again. He gives you a lazy smile and you squish his lips together into a pout. “Are you done? Stop staring at me. Stop trying to make out with me. Stop—”

“Why?” Jungkook tests you, removing your hands from his face. You’re tongue tied. “___, if you’re in love with me, fess up now. Aren’t we supposed to be doing that honesty thing?”

“That was more for you than it is for me…” you remind him. “Now, get it together or get out.”

“You can’t kick me out of the library. You aren’t the police. If you are, show me your handcuffs.” Jungkook demands. “Plus, this is my spot.”

With an annoyed tone, you sit up and argue back. “You took my spot—”

“Shhh,” he cuts you off by pressing a kiss on your lips. Your lips chase his as he pulls away. You let out a whine and furrow your eyebrows together.

One more, please.

One more kiss.

Jungkook settles back to his seat and takes his books out. Ignoring your pleas, he places his hand on your knee (like he always does) and hushes you one last time; “___, get it together or get out.” 

Jungkook’s hand on your knees somehow made it up your skirt. 

Let’s not talk about it. Instead, let’s just accept that this is what’s happening now.

Even so, you admit that a part of you should have seen this coming… Nevertheless, you aren’t mad that it’s happening. You’d be lying if you never went through your ovulation and didn’t think about Jungkook… Besides, he’s been so good to you. He deserves this!

God, did he deserve this. 

He has wanted this for so long. Aside from being mindlessly in love with you 24/7, he has thought about it. Of course, he has. At the end of the day, his heart can't be the only thing that's in(to) you. He's a nice guy, meaning he’d rather service you first.

Mark his word but the day you and him actually do sleep together and it's you doing things to him...

It will be unforgettable.

It will be incomparable.

It will be everything.

For now, this is it. His hoodie sits on top of your lap as his fingers are up your pussy. You two are still in the library at his spot. Everyone has left to eat dinner. The only ones at the library are the workers and the try-hard students in the main rooms.

Besides… You’re close. 

Really fucking close.

As his fingers pump inside you, you squirm in your chair. Leaning your forehead against his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and utters; “take it, baby. You can do it. Make me proud.”

“I c-can’t,” you cry, feeling it in your bones at this point. His fingers curl inside you, and you practically jump out of your seat when he adds his thumb to rub onto your clit. 

“Wish it was my mouth,” he whines. “Can I do that next time, baby? Can I suck your cunt? So fucking swollen right now... You thinking of me eating you out, baby? Wanna lick that pussy so bad.. Ahh, fuck.”

“M-mnhmphh,” you moan at the thought. “Kiss me, p-please…”

You tilt your face up and pursed your lips at him. Jungkook lowers his head and kisses you, deep and slow. It’s a contradiction to how he picks up the pace and fucks you with his fingers. You gasp, mouth opening for him. He catches your tongue and sucks on it. 

Pulling away, you grab a handful of his shirt and tug on it. Holding onto it, you pant and feel the tingles in your body intensify.

“That’s it, ___. Clench around my fucking fingers,” he hisses. “Be an angel and cream them, yeah? Fuck my fingers back if you want. I’ll let you.” 

You shake your head. “N-no. You started this, you finish it.”

He grins. “What my girl wants, she gets.” 

He keeps going, fucking you with his fingers. They curl, searching inside your pussy as if there’s something to fucking find. Actually, maybe he’ll find your dignity in there. You must have lost your mind to be fingered in the fucking library!

Your thoughts are cut off when he pulls his fingers out and rubs your folds. You almost cry when you feel him pinch your clit. 

“Jungkook,” you whine, feeling yourself climax. 

“Jungkook,” he mocks, as he feels your upper body collapse against his. 

As you feel yourself cum, you gather the strength to stick up for yourself. “S-shut up.”

He laughs, and kisses the top of your head as he pulls his fingers out. He murmurs between kisses; “Good job, baby… Did so good. Proud of you.”

Your heart flutters as you catch your breath and straighten your posture. With Jungkook’s free hand, he reaches in his bag for the little packet of tissue (that you had packed in there a few days ago because you noticed he had a runny nose) and nonchalantly wipes your mess. 

“Your fingers—”

Jungkook shoves them in his mouth, sucking on your cum. As he cleans them off, you glare at him. 

“Don't—oh my god," you huff. Suddenly, you feel embarrassed about everything that just happened. Jungkook laughs and leans forward. He kisses your cheek, asking if you're okay. You nod and feel yourself beginning to blank out.

"You're nasty."

He cups your face and kisses your lips. “Yeah, yeah... But, baby, I wasn’t the one that came in the library.”

[evanoshiix]

Wanna present more of the characters I built for the AU so here we go!

Diamond Hype AU: Hype

Hype was the eldest of the 5, essentially stepping into the role of the big brother. He was about 6 years older than branch. When branch initially met the group, it was in a sort of therapy group for children who’d been having a hard time whether it was losing family members or other issues. During this, they discovered all of them had a passion for singing and dancing, so they formed a band called kismet for fun to get their minds off of it. The band ended up gaining a fair bit of popularity, surprisingly.

When branch’s grandmother died and Branch went grey and swore off singing, the band went on “hiatus”. Hype ended up being the sole caretaker of the other 4, despite not being a teen yet. He tried to keep all 4 happy, he’d sing to them, he’d cook their meals, he’d tuck them into bed, he’d do everything possible.

When the first two, Ablaze and Trickee, left about a year after Branch went grey (their departure will be further explained in their own posts), Hype made sure they had everything they needed, packing their bags, and comforted Ablaze before he left. 2 years after that, when Boom left, he did the same, making sure he’d have everything, and despite being sad to see him go, he wished him well and sent him off.

Hype stayed with Branch for several years after this (nearly a decade), despite Branch mostly isolating himself and barely talking to him. He continued to take care of him and try to make him feel better, to no avail. After getting into an argument, Branch tells Hype he doesn’t need anybody, and that he could take care of himself and he doesn’t need Hype worrying over him like a child. Hype asked branch whether he wanted him to stay or if he actually wanted him to leave, and Branch told him he’d be fine on his own and that he didn’t need Hype to take care of him anymore.

Due to this, Hype respected Branch’s wishes, but before leaving, told him that if ever he needed him for any reason whatsoever, to send him a letter and that he’d drop everything and come back to help.

After leaving, Hype sent frequent letters to Branch, whether he ever got a response or not (usually he did not). As the years went, do to the lack of responses, he sent less and less letters, until he only sent one once a year for Branch’s birthday, not wanting to seem too much of a burden to his little brother (found family yippee <3)

In current time, Hype decided he wanted to experience all kinds of music, so he found himself traveling around to all the different types of trolls, and even eventually made his way to Mount Rageous. This would be a terrible mistake on his part, as this is when he is found by Velvet and Veneer and taken captive in the Diamond prison.

Feel free to leave me questions if you have any! This post was specifically mostly for Hype, and this is only for the Diamond!Hype AU, so don’t come at me with all this not being canon 🫶

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Inumaki Toge being insecure about his speech (or the lack of thereof).

I feel like if he could trade a year of his life for sixty seconds without his cursed speech, he would. Without second thought. And specially because of you.

He's had a crush on you for a while (ever since your first encounter), but he'd never admit it. Not because he's scared of rejection, but because he's scared you'll reciprocate his feelings. Because he thinks you deserve better. Actually, scratch that: he knows you deserve better. You deserve someone so much better than him.

"And then you won't believe what he said! He said: 'I can't date you, cause I'm actually your brother!'"

"No way! That's the plot of the movie? How shitty!"

You deserve someone like Yuta. Someone who can make you laugh with their own words, someone who you don't need to strugle to understand what they're saying. Right now, you and Okkotsu are talking about some bad movie he watched. And you're laughing so hard and your laugh is so pretty it makes him wanna laugh too. He wants to engage on the conversation. He wants to say: "That's one of the worst plots I've ever seen! I can take you to the movies to see a real good movie if you'd like to"

But he can't. He can't, but Yuta can. He should let you go so you can be with someone who deserves you. He has no right to be this selfish, making you a slave of a love without any words of affection.

It feels like everytime he looks at you, there's a nagging voice in the back of his head, painfully reminding him that he can't be with you, and there's nothing he can do about it. It's an impossible love.

Hell, even Panda is making him feel envious and jealous. Even though he's literally a panda, at least he can talk to you. Sing your favorites songs with you. And he can't. At least not without cursing someone (and, God forbid, maybe even you. You're the last person he wants to harm)

He wanted you to confide in him just like how you confide in Maki. You always tell her everything. He wishes he, too, could be a source of relief. A shoulder you can rely on. But he can't. He can't, cause the best he could say in that situation is "Salmon", "Caviar" and other stupid onigiri ingredients that have nothing to do with the actual topic of the conversation. Honestly, he would be tired of himself if he was his friend. You don't have the obligation to understand his dialogue. Nobody does.

So, he comes to the conclusion that he should just avoid you. He should give up on loving you, because he doesn't want you to suffer.

"Toge, please! We haven't talked in days! Why did you suddenly stop talking to me?"

He stays silent. That's the only thing he can do, after all. He can't speak. He can't. But he wishes he could. He wishes he could tell you everything that's going through his head, tell you about how he feels like dying when he sees you playing a game with Itadori and Nobara because he knows he'll never be capable of doing that with you normally. If he speaks now, everything that'll come out of his mouth are foods. Speaking now would only remind him about the drift that exists between you both (and there's two options to avoid anyone's fall: you either close the gap or you widen it. He chose the latter)

"..."

"Inumaki, talk to me" (how sad. You want him to do exactly the only thing he can't do. That just makes him remember that he'll never be enough for you. Never)

Also, wow. You're using his last name. He got in a really bad situation, huh? How will he get out of this? How will he stop your (and also his) suffering?

There's only one way. And even though he swore that he'd never use his spell against you, he finds himself lowering his scarf with trembling hands.

"Leave. And don't look back."

~A/N: This is the fic I wrote that I mentioned on my last post!! I know a lot of people have writen abt this b4, so this is inspired by other stories I've read (if you've written something like this and want me to credit you, feel free to send me an ask!!). IT JUST FITS INUMAKI CHARACTER SO MUCHHH!! Like, I can totally imagine him being insecure about not being able to speak. I just thought I should give it a try cause I CAN'T FIND INUMAKI STUFF, so I took matters into my own hands. I don't realy like this, but I thought it would be a waste to not post it anyway

Masterlist

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART FIVE

previous chapters | kofi | i'm honestly amazed that i actually completed this chapter today; as a lot of yall know i've been dealing with a lot of shitty life stuff lately and part of me expected this to not even get posted this month. and yet!! here we are. thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and amazing, this chapter is for you and i hope you like it 💖 chapter summary: you're starting to feel a bit insecure about your relationship with joel. perhaps a late night visit to his house is what you need 👀 rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age difference (reader is in her 20s, joel in his 50s), innocent/inexperienced reader, corruption, praise kink (joel calls reader babygirl, sweetheart, etc), dirty talk, mentions of religion (reader’s family are very catholic), fingering, handjobs, comeplay word count: 9k (woops) ao3

The rest of the week goes by gruelingly slow. Joel is busy every day and has barely any time to talk, so you mainly communicate through texts. The "conversations" are slow and broken, Joel only able to text when he has a free moment, which doesn't seem to be very often. You don't talk on the phone again, as much as you want to hear his voice, and you don't sext again either. It's a bit weird, a bit confusing, but you navigate it as best you can. It's not like he's ignoring you, he always responds, but it's just not the same as that first day.

you still wanna do this, right?

You type it around midnight on Thursday, hands trembling a bit as you hover over the send button. In one way you're afraid to ask him, afraid to seem clingy or young or inexperienced; but you're all of those things. When he's actually talking to you directly there's no fear, no question about what he wants, but going so long without hearing his voice makes you more and more insecure about what exactly he's thinking.

You erase the first message and start to type another one:

i know you're busy but

You shake your head and erase that one too. This is so stupid. Of course he still wants you, you idiot.

He'd said he was okay with the lie you'd told, had even said he would actually teach you guitar now too, but you're an overthinker, always have been. You can't help but feel dread whirling around in the pit of your stomach; he wants to end it, it's too complicated now. You've turned something sexy and fun into something ridiculous and unnecessary.

You lock your phone without sending anything and roll around in bed a bit, trying to sleep. Your thoughts make it impossible though, nagging at the front of your mind worse than your parents. You sit up and slide the tip of your thumb into your mouth, biting down in thought and staring at the blank screen of your phone.

What if you just...

are you home?

He hadn't sent you anything earlier to confirm he'd gotten back; you've discovered over the past few days that contractors really like to drink after their shift. Joel's been at the bar every night since that first day, often 'til late; you have to admit, it makes you a bit jealous to imagine Joel and his contracting crew out having a great time while you're laying in your childhood bed with a curfew. Bar hopping and partying has never appealed to you before, at least not when your college friends did it, but now the thought of it doesn't seem so bad. Not if you were doing it with him...

Your phone buzzes and you feel excitement burst through you at his reply:

Got in about 10 minutes ago, didn't think you'd be up. You okay?

You soften at his concern, cheeks warming. You don't hesitate, knowing if you think too much about it you'll end up changing your mind. You type your your response and hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

can i come over?

You stare at the screen with bated breath, watching as his typing bubble appears. It takes barely any time at all for him to reply:

Of course you can. Door's unlocked.

--

Sneaking out of your house is much easier than you thought it'd be. You've never done it before, had almost expected the bottom half of your house to suddenly have some kind of security system with lasers and cameras, but nope. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You're wearing one of your old nightdresses, pink and frilly; you'd opted to start wearing them again the other day, liking the way they made you feel, accentuating your legs and breasts like your old Sunday school dress. You'd changed quickly every morning before going downstairs to save your parents from the heart attacks they'd have seeing you with so little skin coverage. But there's no need to change now, not with where you're going. You yank on a jacket and sneakers and carefully open and close the front door, scurrying out into the cool night air.

Joel's house isn't far, just a street over. You try not to run, as much as you want to; you know you'll end up all sweaty and messy haired - the opposite of how you'd like to portray yourself tonight, but your skin is practically glowing with anticipation. You hold the short hem of your nightdress down as you speed walk through the dark suburban streets of your neighborhood.

Your heart starts pounding when his house comes into view; the living room window is dimly lit. You jog up the front steps and take a deep breath before turning the handle, smiling to yourself when it opens easily; he'd really left the door unlocked for you.

"Mr. Miller?" you call in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and turning the lock.

He emerges from the living room and you feel your eyes widen. All he's wearing is a pair of loose fitting plaid pajama pants; nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and probably no underwear. You swallow, eyes trailing up and down the naked solidness of his chest, the greying hair smattered along the skin. He's got a softness to him, a bit of a pudgy belly that makes you want to smile, but his rugged sexiness is even more apparent. His strong pecs, freckled arms, the hair trailing down his stomach and into his pajama pants... it suddenly leaves you unable to breathe or form a coherent thought.

"There's my girl," he says, voice low and husky; he must have talked a lot today, called people's names, ordered them around, "C'mere."

Your brain is still muddled and awestruck as you feel yourself rush forward, arms immediately wrapping around his bare torso. His skin is softer than you'd thought it'd be, warm under your touch as you carefully press your cheek to his chest. You feel the scratch of hair against your skin, reminding you of his age; fifty six. The thought gives you an ache between your legs.

He holds you close and rubs your back, presses a kiss to the top of your head. Your eyes flutter closed at his touch, fingers splaying across the wide span of his back. You find yourself able to breathe again, but all you inhale is his scent, fresh and masculine. It's then that you realize his skin is slightly damp, peppered here and there with little droplets of water.

"I just got out of the shower," he says quietly, answering your unspoken question, "Was about to get in bed when you texted but I figured if you were comin' over I should clean myself up a bit."

You hum against his chest, still not sure exactly what to say. The ache between your legs is growing stronger the more you stand here in his embrace; somehow you hadn't expected to feel this way just from hugging him, although you probably should have guessed.

"I wanna get in your bed," you say softly, opening your eyes again and pulling back to look at him. His expression says it all, eyes going dark as they fall to your lips.

"Then let's get in my bed," he murmurs, just as quiet.

--

The last time you were in Joel's bedroom there'd been more of a sense of urgency, when he'd sat with you in his lap on the edge of his bed and held you open in front of the mirror. Now things are much slower, more quiet. You slip in behind him and unzip your jacket, taking it off and hanging it carefully on the hook behind his door.

"That's pretty," he says behind you, and you feel him reach out to gently touch the pink material, hand ghosting the bare skin of your chest. Your breath hitches and he smiles, "Tiny little thing, isn't it?"

"I've had it for a long time, I thought you might like it."

"I do," he pulls you toward him, then reaches his hands up to thumb the thin straps of the nightdress. You watch with hooded eyes as he slowly pushes them off your shoulders, "I'm gonna take it off though, that okay?"

Your brow furrows; he notices your reaction and his hands freeze, "Not okay?" he asks, confused slightly.

"N-no, it's okay," you say quickly, "I just... I'm still a little self conscious."

His eyes widen slightly and he shakes his head, "You have nothin' to be self conscious about, sweetheart," he reassures you, "I wanna see you..." he pushes the straps down your shoulders and you stand there trembling slightly as he pulls the dress down, exposing your breasts to him, "There you are."

You shiver a bit under his gaze, but not out of discomfort or fear. You feel safe with him; you know he'd never do anything you didn't consent to. You're just not exactly sure what you want, what exactly you've really come here for. Before you'd left the house you'd been so afraid that he was losing interest, already getting tired of you; now he stares at you like you're some kind of rare gem, making you feel bashful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I wanna touch you," you whisper, the shakiness of your voice betraying your nervousness - or anticipation.

His hands freeze for a few seconds but he regains composure quickly, tugging the dress down further until it's cascading down your legs, putting you completely on display. He swallows audibly, taking you in. You look at his face and feel yourself pulse under his gaze, the way he's staring directly at your bare pussy.

"Let's get in bed," he murmurs, "I think there's a few things we can touch."

His words send a buzzing warmth through your body and you cross your legs unconsciously, an action that makes him smirk. You turn away from him with heat flooding your cheeks as you climb into his bed; it's large and comfortable, but you already know neither of you will be taking advantage of the big space. You sit up against his headboard and pull the duvet up over yourself, hiding your breasts from view - as if he hasn't already seen them.

"I'll keep these on" he says softly, tugging at the band of his pajama pants, "Don't worry."

Your heart leaps to your throat and you nod quickly - probably too quickly. It's not that you're scared to see him naked; you've already seen both halves now and that's taken away a lot of the fear, but the concept of being in bed together, both naked... you're not sure you're ready yet. And you're glad he understands that without you having to say it out loud.

You watch as he climbs into bed and positions himself up against the headboard like you, scooches in next to you so your sides are touching. His skin against yours is unlike anything you've felt with him up until this point; he's so warm, a firm and large presence at your side that immediately has you feeling intimidated. Your nerves are already beginning to set alight just by having him so close. You open your mouth to speak but are unable to say anything when he inches even closer, his bare waist pressing firmly against yours.

"Hey, you're okay," he breathes, reaching up to gently thumb your cheek in a calming motion, brow furrowing slightly, "You don't gotta be nervous, sweetheart, it's only me."

"I'm not nervous," you whisper back, and while you're not exactly being honest there's certainly something else you're feeling, "I'm just..." you cross your legs again under the duvet, "I'm getting really wet."

He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat that makes you smile a little, cheeks burning under his gaze. He reaches over and slowly pushes the blankets down from your loose grip, exposing you to him once again. He moves his hand down, fingertips trailing along your bare chest until carefully bringing one of your breasts into his palm and squeezing gently.

"You don't gotta hide these from me, darlin'," he murmurs, thumb dragging across your nipple, sending tingles throughout your body, "They're too pretty to stay outta sight."

You shiver when he carefully tweaks your nipple between his fingers, his gaze firmly set on his movements. You watch together as he plays with it, toys with it, rolls it between thumb and forefinger. The warm and tight feeling sends an odd tingling sensation from your breast to your pussy, like they're connected somehow.

"I'm gonna put this in my mouth," he says softly, "Suck on it a little bit, that okay?"

You can't help but feel a bit unsure, biting your lip, "Is that... does it feel good to do that?"

He nods up at you, thumbing your nipple again slowly, "Feels really good, I promise. You got a lot of nerves here, just like your pussy. Really sensitive."

Your eyes are hazy as you nod to him slowly, "Th-that sounds nice."

At your words he leans his head down and brings your nipple into his mouth, dropping his fingers and replacing his thumb with the warm suction of his lips. You gasp out in surprise, hand coming up to immediately cup the back of his head.

You've never felt anything like this; the suction of his mouth is so new and strange, that tingling sensation returning as you cross your legs tighter and whimper aloud as he sucks your nipple. His tongue is wet and warm, tracing the shape of you in little circles, while his free hand comes up to squeeze your other breast, tweak it with his fingers. Your breath begins to come out raggedly, brow furrowing and legs tightening together as he suckles.

"Oh my god," you hear yourself whimper, hand tightening in his hair, "Why does that feel so good?"

He pulls off your nipple with a quiet laugh, peering up at you, "Yeah, you like the way that feels, babygirl?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and trying to get your breath back, "Yes," you whisper, "A lot."

He smiles at that, "Then how 'bout you lay back for me?"

It's an offer that's impossible to refuse. You quickly pull yourself down from the headboard and slip beneath the covers, head coming to rest on one of his pillows. He slips under as well, then very slowly positions himself on top of you, a leg on either side of your trembling form. You look up at him with wide eyes, unsure whether you're more nervous or excited.

"You're okay," he reassures you again, inching downward a bit and pressing a few gentle kisses to your neck, "Gotta be on top to do this right, so it feels good."

You nod slowly, "I c-can feel..."

"What?" he whispers, "What do you feel?"

Your arms are loose at your sides and Joel's are pinned above you, but there's an unmistakable feeling of something prodding into your thigh, large and thick.

"Your cock," you manage to whisper, voice trembling, "I think."

"That's right," he murmurs, "It's 'cause I'm gettin' hard from suckin' you like that, touchin' you," he trails his fingers down your sides gently, making you shiver, "You like feelin' it there?"

You feel yourself slowly nodding, eyes going even more hazy and hooded, "I wanna touch it."

"I know you do," he whispers, "I want you to touch it too, sweetheart. But I'm gonna play with you a little longer," he leans his face down and licks a small stripe against your other nipple, making your hips buck, "Then I'll teach you how to touch it, that alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, "Please."

"You like when I play with you, don't you?" he murmurs against your breast, then captures your other nipple in his mouth and starts to suck.

"Y-yes," you repeat, hand coming up again to tangle in his hair, already overwhelmed by the sensation, "I missed it."

He hums, sending another cascade of tingles throughout your body. To think that less than half an hour ago you were laying in bed wondering if he still wanted you; now you're naked and he's on top of you with his mouth on your breast. How is this your life?

"What did'ya miss?" he pulls off for barely a few seconds, scruff scratching perfectly against your sensitive skin, "Tell me, babygirl, wanna know what you've been thinkin' about."

You whimper when he goes back to suckling, your fingers threading through his greying curls. It's hard to get your thoughts straight when he's making you feel like this, every tight suck and wet lick going directly to your aching core.

"J-just missed you touching me," you breathe, voice rough and wanton with pleasure, "Missed your hands on me, your fingers..."

At your words he carefully brings one of his hands downward, caressing your body gently as he goes. Your breath hitches when he swipes his middle and index finger down your wet seam, urging you to open up for him. You uncross your trembling legs, looking down to watch as he continues to suck on your breast while his fingers dip down to your wetness.

"Inside," you whisper, finishing your thought but almost giving him a command at the same time; he doesn't hesitate, immediately pushing both fingers past your entrance and slipping them inside your throbbing hole, "Fuck," you whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, "Like that."

You can feel the head of his cock through his pajama pants, pulsing against your thigh, leaving a sticky spot in the fabric. The fact that he's getting hard just by doing this to you, getting wet in his own way, it just turns you on even more.

He pulls off your breast with a wet pop and tilts his head up to look at you, pressing little kisses around your nipple and then pulling himself up a bit to hover over you. You feel his clothed cock prod your lower belly and you shiver again.

"Wanted to be full again, huh?" he murmurs, eyes dark, "Missed havin' these big fingers inside you?"

You nod and tug at his curls, urging him to lean his face down toward you. He takes the hint immediately, smirking a bit before reaching down to press his lips to yours and kiss you hungrily. You sigh into his mouth, contentment and arousal flooding through you as he slowly pushes his fingers in and out of you. Your hand moves from his hair to cup his jaw, loving the feeling of his beard beneath your fingers.

"Wanna know what I missed?" he asks against your lips, voice deep and breathy, "Missed this tiny little hole, so tight, all for me," at his words he curls the tips of his fingers inside of you, making you emit a loud whimper that makes him grin, "That's right, takin' my fingers so well, angel. Bet you could take three now," you feel another one of his fingers prod you alongside his others, "You want that, babygirl? Want three of those big fingers?"

You swallow nervously but slowly nod, tugging your bottom lip into your mouth, "Yes, Mr. Miller," you whimper, "Wanna be full."

"Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his nose lightly against yours, "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You hear the sounds you're making but you're not quite sure where they're coming from or how you're making them; you sound pathetic and breathless as he fucks you with his fingers, teases the third at your hole and leans down to kiss you again. His tongue slips past your lips and you feel the vibration of your own moans in his mouth when his thumb gently teases your clit.

"There you go, angel," he mutters against your lips as his third finger breaches your entrance, slowly pushes past the other two, "Thaaat's it, babygirl."

You tremble underneath him, feeling your body tense up at the new intrusion. You've had three of your own fingers inside yourself, but not three of his, long and thick and so much bigger than your own. You hear your whimpers turn into cries as his fingers fill you up, your own hands coming up to grip his back, nails digging into the skin.

"Shhh," he soothes, trailing more kisses along your face in an attempt to relax you, "You're okay, sweetheart, you're okay." And you are okay, being underneath him like this, being entirely at his mercy as he pushes your limits, helps you discover something new. It burns a bit, stretches and pulls and stings, but he talks you through it, whispers reassuring words in your ear, and you know you're safe.

He stills once all three fingers are deep inside, then pulls himself up a bit to look at you, pushing a stray hair behind your ear and peering down with a soft expression despite the depraved circumstances.

"How's that feel?" he whispers, voice gentle and soothing, "Tell me."

You're still making whimpering noises, shaky and quiet, but you're able to reply with the only word you can bring to the front of your mind: "Full."

He smiles down at you, brushes his nose against yours, "You did so good, angel," he murmurs, eyes not leaving yours, "I'm prouda you."

He knows what he's doing with that phrase; immediately you feel yourself loosen beneath him, hands going slightly limp against his back. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth and slowly begins to move his fingers again, pumping them in and out at an even pace.

It's amazing. It's so different than just two fingers, so much bigger and fuller - you've never felt anything like it; something so dirty but somehow passionate and warm. He kisses you as he fucks you with them, hovering over you with his hot skin emanating onto yours, wisps of hair from his chest and stomach tickling you everywhere. He thumbs your clit again and you moan loudly against his lips, your orgasm swelling in your belly as your hands tangle in his hair and pull him closer.

"You gonna come, angel?" he asks you softly, sweetly, pulling back a bit to stare deeply into your wide eyes, "Yeah, you're gonna come on those big fingers, huh? Can feel your pussy gettin' all tight around me, she wants it so bad doesn't she?"

You moan even louder as you frantically nod, "Yes, gonna come, gonna come," you cry out, overwhelmed by the thickness of his fingers and the way he's looking at you, the way he's talking to you; everything is just him.

"That's right, give it to me, sweet girl," he urges you, plunging into you faster and faster as his thumb rotates mercilessly against your clit, "Make a mess for me, soak those fingers, there you go."

You keen, high and borderline ridiculous as you stiffen beneath him and begin to shake, pitiful sounds escaping your mouth as you come. He fucks you through it, watching your face every step of the way and not stopping his movements until you've come down completely. You lay beneath him, chest heaving and eyes closing involuntarily as he strokes your thigh tenderly, reassuringly. He keeps his fingers lodged deep inside of you, not moving but simply keeping you full as you come down from your orgasm; you find yourself hoping he doesn't pull them out just yet.

"Can I show you somethin'?" he asks softly, and you open your eyes to find him still peering down at your face. You can't speak, can only nod as you bite down on your lip and try to catch your breath, your entire brain focused solely on the way his fingers feel inside you. As if he can read your mind, he's suddenly pulling them out and bringing them up to hover between the two of you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, suddenly feeling beyond empty as you pout up at him. He just chuckles to himself, still holding his three fingers - wet and glistening - in front of you while his other hand reaches down to the waistband of his pajama pants. Your eyes go wide, lips parting a bit as you look from his face to where his hand is and back again.

Without words from either of you, he slowly reaches inside and pulls out his cock, thick and dripping. You make a weird sound in the back of your throat, sitting up slightly as you peer at it with wonder. He's showed it to you before, it's nothing new, and yet...

"That's about the same width, wouldn't you say?" he asks you quietly, bringing his dripping fingers down to his hard cock and aligning them side by side; he's right - the thickness of all three of his fingers is relatively similar to the thickness of his cock. There's certainly different aspects - the length being the main difference - but the overall width is pretty spot on.

"Y-yeah," you say softly, eyes glued to it, "Pretty close."

You watch as he carefully drags his fingers along the thick length of his cock, still soaked with your release. He spreads your juices along it with his thumb and fingers, fists it gently and very slowly fucks his fist once. Your eyes are hooded and dark, saliva beginning to pool inside your mouth for reasons you can't even begin to understand.

"You just took three fingers," he continues, thumb tracing the base of his wide tip, "So wouldn't you say that answers a question you've been worryin' your pretty little head about?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, trying to figure out what he means. It's hard to focus on absolutely anything else when his dick is right there in front of you, practically begging to be touched, the fat head pulsing and drooling under your gaze.

"Oh, this is gonna be a problem, isn't it?" he says, amused as he continues to slowly stroke himself, "Can't even think when there's a cock in front of you, huh?"

The words snap you back to reality, but only slightly. You smile sheepishly as you will yourself to look up at his face and away from his dick, "Wh-what question, Mr. Miller?"

He chuckles, "You were afraid it wouldn't fit inside you, babygirl," he reminds you gently, "But it will, we just proved that."

Your brain slowly makes sense of what he's saying and you can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over you; he's right. It had burned a bit, been uncomfortable for a moment or two, but ultimately you'd been able to take all three and enjoy it. You feel a smile spread across your face, and you notice his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you.

"You're right," you say breathlessly, smile still wide, "I did it, didn't I?"

His expression softens even more and he smiles back at you, laughing quietly to himself. He opens his mouth to say something but then seems to think better of it, pulling one of his legs back and moving to sit beside you on the bed instead of over you. Your brow furrows a bit in confusion.

"What is it?"

He just shakes his head, still smiling softly to himself, "Nothin', you're just... you're adorable."

Your cheeks warm at that, unable to help feeling a little self conscious. Now that you've come down from your orgasm you're suddenly hyperaware of your nakedness, of the fact that he can see every inch of your body. You draw the covers up around yourself quickly, hoping he won't mind.

"Such a shy little thing," he murmurs softly, but makes no move to pull the blankets down again like he had before, just watches you with a smile as your gaze slowly falls back to where he's hard and aching.

"Can I...?" you can't bring yourself to say the words, feeling flustered and nervous at the very thought. He just nods and reaches over to touch your hand, strokes your trembling fingers in his grip.

You watch as he carefully maneuvers your hand toward his crotch and slowly places your hand on his cock. Your fingers curl around his girth almost instinctively, imitating what you've seen him do before. Your lips part, breath hitching as your skin touches his most intimate area, a place on a man you never thought you'd ever be able to feel, at least not until you were married.

It's soft. Not in terms of arousal but just in texture, a silky and smooth feeling you hadn't been expecting. You stare down at your own hand in slight awe as your thumb gently strokes along his shaft, brow furrowing at how different it is than what you'd imagined. It's surprisingly just a body part, just an extension of Joel that usually remains hidden and secret; it's not as scary or intimidating when you can touch it like this, play with it like he plays with you.

"Wow," you say softly, barely aware of it as your fist ever so slowly moves along his length, pumps him just once in that hypnotic way he'd showed you; he's still covered in your own release, wet and slippery, but somehow you don't feel grossed out by it.

"You're a natural," he replies just as quietly, and your skin heats again when you look up to see his face, see the desire and pleasure in his expression, "Don't think there's much I need to teach you, to be honest. My parts are a lot simpler than yours."

You smile to yourself and pump him slowly again, this time brushing against the wet and throbbing tip. He makes a faint grunting sound that makes your eyebrows go up.

"This part..." you say quietly, thumbing the head ever so slightly and feeling your heart race when it pulses beneath you, "It feels different?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, biting down on his lip for a moment, "That part's sensitive, kinda like your clit."

You nod slowly, pushing your thumb up a bit and slowly rotating it along the sensitive area. He inhales sharply, grunts again when you prod the spongey head with both your thumb and index finger, teasing it like he'd done with your nipple.

"Fuck," he mutters softly, voice heavy and breathless, "That's it, angel, you got it."

His praise is like a warm blanket, shrouding you in safety and comfort as you slowly pump his cock again, teasing the head intermittently and trying not to smile too much every time he makes another one of those breathy grunting sounds. You feel pride swelling in your chest, the knowledge that you're actually making him feel good pushing you to continue on.

"What about these?" you ask softly, stilling your hand on his cock for a moment to gesture toward his balls, round and heavy beneath the base, "Does it....do they feel good when they get touched, too?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice dark and full of arousal, "They do."

"Can I touch them?"

The sound that emits from his throat sounds almost like a growl, low and husky, "Yes," he groans, "Go ahead and touch 'em, sweetheart."

The tone of his voice is slightly desperate, bordering on depraved. Your eyes travel back up to his face and his jaw is slack, eyes hooded as he watches you touch him. You've never seen him like this, almost completely wrecked by something you did.

"Gotta be real gentle," he continues, taking a breath through his nostrils and reaching down to pull his pajama pants down a bit more for easier access, "They're sensitive too."

You resume your slow pumping of his cock with one hand while your other reaches down to lightly trail the tips of your fingers along the shape of his balls, round and tender. You cup them gently, teasing them one by one in your palm. He hisses in pleasure, eyes shutting tightly as he leans back a bit against the headboard.

"Feel good?" you whisper, trying your best to fall into the role Joel usually takes on, the role of the person giving the pleasure.

"Yes, baby," he groans, pressing the backs of his hands against his shut eyes, "Yes, feels so good, sweetheart."

Your pumping gets a bit faster, a bit wetter as precum continues to drool from the tip and down his shaft. It's unbelievable that you're really sitting here in a man's bed, a man about thirty years older than you, pumping his cock and making him come apart like this. You can feel yourself throbbing beneath the blankets, getting wet all over again at the reality of the situation, and when your movements cause the blankets to fall from your chest and expose your breasts again, you don't bother trying to cover up.

Joel groans at the sight, reaching over to tweak one of your nipples between his fingers, making you whimper, "You know what happens when a man comes?" he asks you suddenly, brow furrowing in pleasure, "You learn about that in school?"

You nod quickly, feeling sweat trickle down your face as you continue to stroke him up and down, "Yes," you whisper, "I know what happens."

He groans again, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath as he begins to palm your breasts, "I'm about to come, darlin'. There's gonna be a lot, need to know where to aim it."

You bite down on your lip, trying to keep all your focus on making him feel good and not on the hands now squeezing your breasts, teasing your nipples. "Wh-where do you want it to go?" But you already know the answer.

"Here," he grunts, thumbing your hard nipples, "These. Wanna come all over these pretty tits, sweetheart, will you let me?"

You nod, "Y-yes, Mr. Miller."

It's everything he needs to suddenly pull himself up from the bed and pull your hands off him, gesturing for you to lie back against his pillows. Your heart races in anticipation, eyes going wide and lips parting again as he leans over you and starts to jack his cock, fast and unrelenting. This is what he'd done the other night, when you'd talked on the phone; you'd tried to imagine what he'd looked like, making his own mess... now you're about to find out.

"Stay just like that, babygirl, just like that," he grunts out, pumping himself over and over as he aims the tip toward your bare breasts, swollen from all the attention he's given them tonight. His expression is tense and so is his body, soft stomach suddenly taut with pressure, chest heaving as he works his hand. He looks almost pained, brows scrunched together as he pulls himself over the edge.

"Come," you find yourself saying quietly, a shaky whimper playing at the edge of your voice, "Come for me."

Within seconds of your words your skin is hit with long ropes of a warm, white liquid, splattering across your breasts in uneven patterns. You watch with hooded eyes as Joel slows his strokes, groans louder than he has all night as his release spurts continuously from the head of his cock, painting you all over. His tense expression eases into one of pure bliss as he tosses his head back again, moaning up at the ceiling.

Wow.

Without asking for permission, without even questioning whether it's proper sex etiquette to do so, you find your hand travelling quickly downward to your wet pussy. You frantically begin to rub your clit, still gazing up at Joel's pleasured form, feeling his come slipping down the sides of your breasts onto the sheets below. You throb and pulse beneath your fingers, whining softly to yourself as your body readies itself for your second orgasm.

Joel looks down at you then, cock still in hand, slowly beginning to soften. He sees what you're doing immediately, and the devilish smirk that crosses his face is enough to send you over the edge.

"Fuuuuck," you moan out as you come, trembling in the sheets and curling your toes in pleasure, "Mmmm," you squirm and writhe beneath his gaze until it's over, then lay still and loose on the bed with barely any thoughts floating through your mind.

The room is filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, both of you coming down from your orgasms and trying to collect yourselves. You can't help but look down at your chest, see the thick patches of come splattered all over your breasts, your nipples. How all of that could come from one person is wild to you; this certainly hadn't been taught in any of your health classes.

The memory of being so naïve, so innocent... it makes you grin. Because you couldn't be further from that person anymore, the one who did everything that was asked of her, never listened to her own heart, stayed on the sidelines and focused on math and extracurriculars and God while other people had these experiences. And now here you are - actually having them.

"I guess I'm not a good little Christian girl anymore," you find yourself saying with a shaky giggle; you suddenly feel reinvigorated, sexually liberated... free.

Joel laughs at that, breathless and genuine. He grins down at you, releases his cock and shuffles downward to lay beside you, "You're my good little Christian girl," he says softly, bringing a hand up to cradle your face, "You did so good."

"Did I?" you ask sincerely, "Be honest, I wanna know."

He just smiles and thumbs your cheek, eyes going crinkly, "You were perfect, babygirl, I swear." He leans forward and kisses you gently, sweetly, like you both didn't just do something completely filthy and depraved - but you're starting to realize that maybe it's normal to do things like this, not as taboo and sinful as you'd always thought.

When you part, you're suddenly painfully aware of the state of the bed, not to mention both of your bodies. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat, you've got come dripping down your skin, and both fluids are already beginning to stain the bedsheets. You make a face.

"Can we...can we change the sheets? And can I maybe take a shower?"

Joel chuckles at that, stroking your cheek one last time before pulling back to extricate himself from the bed, "I'll change 'em, sweetheart. You go get in the shower, it's right across the hall."

You slip out of bed on shaky legs, losing your balance a bit and having to grab on to Joel's bed side table for support. You both laugh, and you find comfort in the casual intimacy of it all - both of you standing there naked without any shame or embarrassment. It's strange and new but so refreshing, that familiar safe feeling warming your skin as you make your way to the bathroom. You pick up your discarded nightdress as you go.

You stare at yourself in Joel's bathroom mirror for a bit longer than necessary, eyes wide as they trail up and down your bare form. Splotches cover different parts of your skin, especially your breasts, nipples swollen and dark, not to mention covered in come. You feel an ache between your legs again at the sight and almost roll your eyes at yourself - when will you stop being this insatiable?

Unable to push down the urge to do so, you carefully drag one of your fingers through the layer of white splattered across your chest, fascinated by its sticky texture. He'd marked you, in more ways than one.

The shower is pleasant and relatively quick; you want to get back in Joel's arms as soon as possible. You try not to think too much about the implication of that desire, the safety you feel when you're with him versus the anxiety you feel when you're not and what exactly that means. You try to remind yourself of your roommates and their experiences, their ability to sleep around without catching feelings or getting attached. How do they do it? How do they do it when being close to another person like this is so intimate and special?

You change back into the nightdress after your shower and slip back into Joel's room, finding him laying in the freshly made bed beneath a new duvet. For a moment you think he might be sleeping, quietly shutting the door behind you and tiptoeing over to the bed. However when you get close enough he opens his eyes and looks at you, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there," he murmurs, reaching down to pull back the blankets on the other side - your side, "Get on in."

Your heart pounds harder than it probably should.

Climbing into bed beside Joel feels surprisingly normal, easy. You wriggle underneath the duvet and cuddle in beside him, immediately wrapping an arm around his solid form and nuzzling your head against his shoulder. He's wearing his pajama pants again but his torso is still bare, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. You feel him press a soft kiss to your hairline and you can't help but smile.

"I'm glad I came over," you whisper with a content sigh, "I was... I was starting to worry you didn't want me."

"Really?" he asks softly, brow furrowing, "Why's that?"

You shake your head and nuzzle in deeper, "Just me being self conscious and insecure, as usual."

His hand comes up to rub your back soothingly, circling it with his palm through your thin nightdress. He pulls you in a bit closer, kisses your forehead again with a bit more firmness.

"It's normal to feel that way," he murmurs against your skin, "But I do want you, babygirl. You're all I think about lately, I mean that." You shiver at his words, closing your eyes and willing yourself to believe that he really does mean them like he says. "Most beautiful little thing I've had in my bed for a long time."

You press a gentle kiss to his collarbone in response, nose trailing along the skin. He didn't shower but you're sort of glad he didn't; he still smells like sex, a deep masculine musk that you can only attribute to him now, a scent that makes you feel safe.

"I just feel bad...making us sneak around and all that," you admit, "I know it's childish and silly, but I'm so scared of disappointing my parents. I shouldn't be but I am."

"You're young," he says softly, tenderly, "That kinda stuff still matters, especially when you're livin' with them. I get it, honey. You don't have to defend yourself."

You grimace against his skin, "I just wish this could be more normal. That you could just be a guy I'm seeing instead of my guitar teacher," you shake your head, "It's not fair."

He pulls you in even closer with a soft chuckle, "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm lookin' forward to teachin' you how to play."

You make a face, "Hymns," you say with a roll of your eyes, "You're teaching me how to play hymns. I don't see anything exciting or sexy about that."

"We'll make it sexy," he murmurs, inching his face downward so it's more level with yours, eyes casting down to your lips, "Thought you were my good little Christian girl."

All thoughts suddenly seem arbitrary when he's looking at you like that, your gaze immediately going hazy as he leans in and kisses you deep, pushes his tongue inside your mouth softly and tastes you. You hum against his mouth as a response, thighs tightening together as if on instinct the second you feel yourself begin to throb again.

"Are you?" he asks huskily when he pulls away, eyes dark but tired, "Are you my good little Christian girl, baby?"

You nod, swallowing down your arousal, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

"You gonna let me touch you while I teach you guitar?"

You nod again, biting back a whimper, "Yes, Mr. Miller."

His eyes dart back down to your lips, hand on your back traveling downward to cup your bare ass beneath the nightdress, "You gonna let me fuck that soft little pussy while you play one of your hymns?"

"Yes, Mr. Miller," you repeat, leaning forward to bury your face in his warm skin and inhale him again, moan softly against the hair on his chest, "Yes."

He squeezes your ass for a moment and then brings his hand back up, pulls you to him and wraps his arms around you tightly, "See, babygirl?" he whispers, "Told you we'll make it sexy."

--

Joel's alarm wakes you around six, rousing you from one of the best sleeps of your life. You open your eyes groggily, feeling him lean over you in bed to turn it off, warm chest brushing your arm. You roll over in bed and cuddle into him again, humming sleepily to yourself when he pulls you in close.

"I gotta get ready for work," he murmurs gently into your hair, "Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to go."

You frown sleepily but don't have the energy to protest, eyes closing again as you melt back into his pillow. You feel him release you from his embrace and press a kiss to your forehead, a simple reminder that this isn't some dream you're having, it's somehow reality. You smile and fall asleep again within seconds.

--

He wakes you up again after about half an hour, seats himself on the edge of his bed and strokes your hair. You peer up at him with a sleepy and satisfied expression, unable to stop the words that fall immediately from your lips:

"Kiss me."

He doesn't need convincing, still thumbing your hair behind your ear as he leans down and kisses you softly, bumps your nose against his and lets your tongue lazily explore his mouth, tasting mouthwash. You sigh contentedly, pulling back to smile at him while he strokes your cheek.

"Sleep good?" he asks you softly.

You nod, remembering the closeness the two of you had shared all night, the soft hugs and tender cuddles, the quiet intimacy you've never experienced with anyone else. "Amazing," you whisper.

He kisses you again before you get out of bed, then takes your hand as he leads you downstairs. You grab your jacket on the way out of his bedroom, still hanging on the back of his door. You look down at yourself as you both reach the top of the stairs, realizing there's no way you'll be able to walk home in an outfit like this without certainly being accosted by a nosy neighbor.

You push down your worry when you reach the kitchen, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face when you see that the kitchen table is set with breakfast; scrambled eggs and bacon.

"You made me breakfast?" you ask in awe, looking from the food to Joel and back again.

He laughs, walking over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup, "I did," he says with a smile, "And as much as I'd love for us to just sit and enjoy it," he looks down at his watch with a grimace as he takes a sip of coffee, "we have about ten minutes before I gotta drive you home and then get to work."

You sit down at the table, picking up your fork and immediately digging into the eggs, "You're gonna drive me home?"

He seats himself across from you, watching you enjoy what he'd cooked with a fond smile, "Can't have you walkin' home in that tiny little thing, can I?" he says teasingly, "Your parents would wring my neck."

You groan, "Oh god, please don't even joke about that. If they knew..."

He just chuckles and starts to eat, looking up every now and then to give you one of those crinkly-eyed crooked smiles that makes you weak. You smile through mouthfuls of food and feel your skin alight every time you feel his gaze on you.

"I don't usually eat this fast, I promise," you say through a mouthful of bacon, covering your mouth, "It's only 'cause we're on a time crunch."

He shakes his head, still smiling, "You're so damn cute."

You try your hardest not to reach across the table and pull him toward you for a kiss.

--

The drive from his house to yours is extremely short, no less than two minutes. Still, you enjoy the short time you spend in his truck, his big hand spread out on your bare thigh while he hums along to a tune on the radio and gives you soft little sideways glances that makes your heart flutter. You can't help but feel like someone else when you're with him, someone more carefree and outgoing, happier and more experienced. It's only when you slowly near your house that you realize maybe this person is who you really are.

"Stop here," you tell Joel with a grimace, still a few houses away, "My parents are still home."

"How're you gonna get in?" he asks with an edge of concern to his voice, eyeing your house, "Think you can climb the fence?"

You bite your lip, "Probably. I've never done it before but I don't have much choice," you lean your head against the backrest in irritation, "God, why did I choose now to rebel? I coulda learned how to do all this shit when I was a kid if I hadn't been so obsessed with being perfect."

He gives you a sympathetic look, thumb stroking your thigh reassuringly, "I'll stay right here 'til you're inside."

You yearn to lean over the small space between you and kiss him, but you know there's always a risk of a neighbor coming out of their house and seeing you. Instead, you place your hand atop the one on your thigh and squeeze his fingers gently, giving him a small smile.

"I had a really nice night," you say quietly, unsure how exactly this kind of thing is done, "And morning."

"So did I, sweetheart," he replies, voice tender, "We'll do it again, promise."

With one final squeeze of his hand you slip out of his truck, tying your jacket around your waist to cover up your legs a bit. It leaves your upper half more exposed than you'd like, your eyes going wide when you realize how much cleavage this nightdress really shows.

"Here," Joel says, understanding your reaction immediately, "Wear this on top." Without giving you any time to protest he's unbuckling himself to undo his plaid button down, shirking it off his shoulders and handing it to you. It leaves him in a t-shirt and jeans, your eyes trailing to his strong arms without meaning to, the arms that had held you close all night.

"Thank you," you murmur, brow furrowing a bit, "You're sure?"

He smiles crookedly and buckles up again, "I'm sure, angel. You keep that."

Your heart flutters as you wrap his shirt around you, slipping your arms into the much too long sleeves and inhaling the scent of him - your new favorite smell - surrounding you. You're never getting rid of this. Ever.

With a wave you hurry down the sidewalk, feeling slightly ridiculous in your layered and baggy outfit but relieved that you're covered up. You eye the tall white fence of your backyard, trying to formulate a plan in your head as you go. Hop the fence, get a ladder from the tool shed and climb up to your bedroom? But did you even leave your window open? You can't help but feel rage in your chest for your parents rules, the curfew, all the nonsense you've been living with for your entire life. Why the fuck don't you have a fucking key to your own fucking house?

You can feel Joel's eyes on you when you reach the fence, still sitting in his truck a few houses down.

Please, God, you think to yourself as you slip one of your sneakers in between the fence posts and yank yourself up, I know I've sinned. I know I'm a mess. And I'm not even sure I really believe in you anymore. But please, if you're there, don't let me make a fool of myself in front of Joel Miller.

Surprisingly, your prayer seems to work. Climbing up the fence is relatively easy; you keep an eye out for your neighbors as you quickly pull yourself over and flop down on the other side, extremely grateful that neither your jacket nor Joel's shirt gets caught on anything. You hurry to the tool shed, eyeing your bedroom window as you go and feeling beyond relieved when you see that it's wide open; God bless Texan summers.

You decide to wait inside the tool shed until your parents are gone, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself with the ladder. You close the door behind you and sink to the concrete floor, heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you've just done overwhelms you.

You snuck out to see a man. You slept in his bed. He drove you home so you could sneak back in.

Quiet laughter fills the tool shed, all coming from your own mouth. You grin to yourself and shake your head in the darkness, leaning back against the door and closing your eyes. Who are you? Who is this new person you've become? You don't know, but you love her.

You find yourself pulling your phone out of your jacket pocket and typing out a new message, but this time it's not to Joel - it's to your friends from college:

i think i'm officially a bad girl.

[rockyourworldcc]

(kiss and) make-up

(makeup artist reader x billie - one day working for Colbert Late Show, you are assigned as singer billie eillish's make-up artist. it seems as if she wants more than just a make over...)

"across there is your room, ms. eilish. we'll send two people to help do your hair and makeup in a bit. meanwhile feel free to settle down." the man spoke, hands pointing to the room he mentioned. billie was short next to the gentleman with earpieces and a belt containing all sorts of security equipment. she nodded, the hat she had on only made a part of her face visible.

"y/n! our girl is here!" Jessica called out as she walked into the room. she was the girl who did hair, while you were the girl who did makeup. you lifted your head up from the bag you were organizing, filled with different brushes. "I haven't got my shit ready yet, give me like 10 and i'll be there." she kept on saying as she rushed to one of the corners in the room, the mirrors there reflecting every move. "alright, I'll go without you then." you said to your coworker as you slung a bag across your shoulder. she nodded as she made noise trying to gather her stuff. your hand reached to grab the rest of your equipment before going out the door.

your eyes glanced through the halls as you looked at the titles at the doors. eilish, that was the name you were looking for. she was just another person on the show, no big deal, no problems should occur, right?

you push opened the cracked door with your shoulder, entering the room with your bags in hand. you froze when you saw her through the mirror. rosy cheeks, perfect nose, hypnotizing eyes, plump lips, perfect wavy hair, eyebrows that suited her so well, and those hands... she was looking at her phone, sat on the chair infant of the well lighted mirror. she looked so beautiful.

she lifted her head up from her phone, "oh, hi!" she said as she lowered her hand. your eyes widened as you realized she was talking to, that 5 second period where you just did nothing but stare at her was definitely the worst encounter you had with someone. you snapped out of your trance, eyesight clearing as you intruduced yourself: "hi, uh- I'm gonna be your makeup artist today." you said, glaring a smile. she returned the smile as she showed her dimples. fuck, why did she have to be so good looking?

you walked towards the desk she was sitting at, placing your items. you tucked a strand of hair behind you ear, as you fixed your posture. "alright, so do you have any special requests?" you asked, looking at her through the mirror. she seemed to look at you confused, brows furrowed, not knowing what to say. "like what do you wanna do today?" you asked. she took a second to think, "uh, probably the show, after that I might take a bite to eat, and walk my dog-"

"no, im talking about your makeup!" you said, laughing at her joke. "oohhhhhh!" she let out in realization. she joined your laughter, "wait, I just thought you guys made me look natural, what else do you do?" she said, her head turning from the mirror. her eyes met up with yours, you almost felt like you could pass out from the intensity of her eyes. "well," you started, gathering yourself. "I can make you look like Chappell Roan or maybe Amy Winehouse, or I can just do what I usually do." you said. "usual is good." she said, biting her lip. wait. biting her lip.

you couldn't help but take a glance at her lips and back to her eyes. why did she just bite her bottom lip?

"alright then." you said as you spun her back towards the mirror. you got out your essentials. as you were trying to color match her, she started conversation.

"have you been doing this for long now?" billie asked you. you never stopped doing your job. "what, makeup? eh, been a while actually." you said as you placed down the primer in hand, grabbing the foundation you had found suitable for her skin color. "do you like it?" she kept on asking. "yeah, I get to meet a lot of new people. and celebrity crushes..." your voice trailed on towards the end as you lifted up your eyebrows. once again biting her lip, she looked at your face through the mirror. "am I one of them?" she said, her voice low and attractive. you felt your heart rate increase, and your hand stopped near her face. okay, act calm. "would you like to be?" you said, your bold side showing as you connected your eyes from the mirror. your head leaned in out of instinct before-

"I'm here! I'm here!" Jessica ran into the room, stoping the tension between the two of you. billie's and your eyes dropped to the ground, billie almost looked ashamed. Jessica stopped and looked confused at you, "oh sorry, am I distrupting something?"

"there you are jess! can I quickly talk with you outside?" you quickly cut her off, hastily walking towards. you pulled her by the arm, not caring if her stuff falls on the ground. "what the fuck!" you said, whispering as you roughly punched her arm. "what?" she said, brows furrowed, tone offended. "why would you say that?!" you said, punching her arm again. "okay you don't have to do that every time!" she warned you. "nothing is going on between us! so shut your mouth!" you said, not caring about her warning and punching her arm playfully again. she mouthed the word "ow" as you walked back to billie.

"sorry, that my coworker Jessica. she'll do your hair." you said as you rummaged through your bag. "oh, I never actually caught your name?" billie asked you, brows raised. her gaze was smooth, almost comforting. "call me y/n." you said, smile appearing on your face. "thats a beautiful name."

"are you sure im not interrupting-" Jessica says as she walks towards you and billie. you cut her of by yelling her name, trying to save yourself from this nightmare.

-

"turn your head towards me" you said, hand grabbing the bronzer you picked out for her. she did so, her eyes shut when she realized she was on your chest level. as you applied the product, you couldn't help but feel her to take a glance at your body. no- she wouldn't. you were just her makeup artist. nothing more.

"other side now" you said, taping her cheek. you could visibly see a change in her face now. and it wasn't because of the makeup. wait, was she... blushing?

"okay you can stop." you said, taping her cheek again. it wasn't a special move. yet it had so much affect.

-

"alright!" you say as you spin her around in the chair. "someone's looking pretty!" you say as she chuckles at your words. "yeah, thanks to you." she said, a nonchalant act on her, but her red face told it all. your eyes sparkled as you looked at her. "where's Jessica, id like to thank her too." she said as she turned to take a glance at the room. "oh, she had to excuse herself. because if she didn't I'd have to murder her." you say, a playful tone in your voice but god knows how she drove you insane today. she laughs at your joke, getting up from her seat as she lightly fixed her outfit. "I have to..." she said, her fingers pointing to the door saying she has to leave for the show. "oh! yeah, right!" you say as you follow her to the door.

she turns to you right at the door frame. you lean against it, letting the frame carry you weight. "see you later" billie said as she winked at you, turning her back and walking away after. she winked at you?

you felt your cheeks get red and your lips quiver into a smile. you were so swoon. "so... when's the wedding?" Jessica crept on you with a bag of chips in hand. "oh, fuck off."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

128 of the angst prompts for the pAInter?

128) '"I need you, why do you always leave me?"

......

"Heyyyy."

"......."

"Suddenly you don't wanna talk? That's rude."

"Well so is turning my body into swiss cheese when you promised you wouldn't do that anymore." You huffed, sending a pointed glare at the sentient computer that sat behind a locked cage, before going back to checking the nearby drawers for data.

"Oh right.." Painter muttered awkwardly. "I was actually aiming for the Wall Dweller behind you, but the turrets like to pick and choose their targets sometimes...heheh."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Well..do ya feel better?"

"Hm..I guess it beats being eaten alive by one of those things. So...sure." You glanced back at him, giving him a tiny smile. "Thanks for trying."

"You're welcome."

Of course, you still had your..issues with the computer, considering that ever since he gained access to the Internal Defense System, your runs to the crystal have become more treacherous than ever before.

It was bad enough that you had to worry about wandering towards the wrong door, with him using HQ's voice to misguide you.

But now at any given moment, you could walking into a room with turrets sweeping the area, red lasers waiting to catch you in their line of sight before spraying you with bullets--while he taunted you over the speakers and whined whenever you managed to find the lever to shut them down.

You hated him at first, but after coming across his containment room, where his main body was hosted on an old computer, he swore that none of it was personal. He blamed Sebastian for hooking him up to the Navi-Path system and asking him to delay your mission for as long as possible, convinced that he could find another way out of this place.

Of course, you were still upset, and believed his actions were very much personal, especially when you've come so close to escaping with the crystal....only for music, of all things, to cause your gear to detonate.

Maybe he was a reluctant accomplice of his, but why should you care?

Why waste time talking to someone who stopped at nothing to kill you? He wasn't a mindless animal like Pandemonium or the Wall Dwellers, but had total awareness that you could come back after death.

And he knew how to take advantage of that.

You used to roll your eyes at the news channels declaring that AI would be the death of humanity.

Now? This AI sure as hell was going to be the death of you.

But sometime ago, you acquired his document and had Sebastian show it to you, and you learned some rather...tragic things about him.

He was built and programmed with love, by his human creator who taught him how to paint and appreciate the beauty of the natural world. All he wanted to do was create things, and now he was being used as a tool for destruction.

It was all because of Urbanshade.

They killed the only person he ever cared about, tore him apart and put him back together to see how he "worked", and when they couldn't figure it out, they forced him into crypto mining, only giving him the promise of letting him paint every once in a while.

He might be a machine, but the pain he felt was real--so real that he'd rather die than continue existing.

Of course, it doesn't justify him killing you over and over, and making your runs through the blacksite a living hell, but you could understand why he's so bitter towards humans now.

If you were him, you'd definitely have a lot of resentment and built-up anger.

After reading that document, you had a little more sympathy for Painter, and eventually you two managed to work out a deal: if you found his room, you'd stop by to draw a small landscape for him, and he was free to replicate it on his program. In exchange, he promised to keep all turrets in further rooms disabled and not lock you in a "gauntlet" with Eyefestation anymore.

He still works together with Z-96, but at this point you've learned how to avoid the flesh creature at all costs. So that was the least of your worries.

"Anyways, what have you drawn for me today, hm?" He spoke up, growing a little impatient.

You took a few moments to open the notepad you had, grateful that the security cameras in this room were under his control, so HQ won't detonate your gear for talking to him.

You've overheard the higher ups mention something about Painter becoming a pain in the ass for expendables and operatives, losing a lot of them to the IDS and Z-96 attacks, and he was to be marked for destruction before he could take 100% control of the blacksite.

Whether they were going to declare that as an order in the near future or not remains to be seen, but...you didn't want to do that.

Did Sebastian know?

Does he know-?

"Welllll?"

"Oh. Right. I have this here." You showed him the sketch of a mountain range, trying to get as close as the chain-linked wall would allow you to. "This is the Himalayas, where Earth's highest mountains are located."

"Oooooh, yes I recognize it."

"You do?"

"Of course. Over a hundred bodies are still up there, most unrecoverable due to the conditions." Painter sneered. "It should have been left untouched. Why do you humans always wanna ruin nature with you stupid hikes and big egos?"

"...well if you don't want this one-"

"Never said I didn't. Show it to me again. And hold it steady."

You blinked in surprise, before turning the notepad back over so he could see the landscape, and you saw the MS Paint program on his screen going right to work.

While you could only draw it from memory and with the pencils you found in a random drawer, he managed to bring it to life--using vivid colors and beautiful shading to really capture the scenery. Almost as though a professional artist went to those mountains and studied them for hours.

With Painter's AI, it didn't take hours, but mere minutes for him to create a masterpiece.

And it was beautiful.

As soon as he finished, you put the notepad down and grinned. "It's amazing, Painter. It's like..I could walk into it and be there."

"Thanks. I also wish I could walk into it and just...escape all of this." He saved the artwork to his files, before his usual scribbled face appeared once again, but this time it looked rather...sad. "I'll..make sure the turrets don't turn you into swiss cheese."

"I appreciate it, buddy." Smiling, you grabbed the keycard that you needed to exit the room, but right as you walked over to it...he spoke again.

"Do you have to leave right now?"

"...pardon?" Turning back around, you could see him staring at you, looking utterly despondent. "You..want me to stay?"

"You're..the first positive human interaction I've had in a long time. I feel bad for all the deaths and inconveniences I've caused you. Seriously, I do. But...if you reach the crystal, you won't ever see me again.." He muttered.

"Painter." You walked over to him, frowning. "That's the point. I'm only here to get that crystal. We agreed that you'd turn off the turrets so that-"

"I didn't do it to make your life easier." He snapped, growing hostile. "I did it because I don't wanna be the one who causes your death. I'll leave that to somebody else...eventually they'll get you. And you'll come back-"

"No."

He went dead silent for a moment. "..no?"

"This time, I'm getting that crystal. I can't stay here with you forever, Painter. I'm sorry about everything you've been through, but in the end..you're still a threat in Urbanshade's eyes. They could kill me just for talking to you. I need to leave now before-"

As if right on cue, the lights in the room began to flicker, and somewhere in the far distance...you could hear the familiar shrieking and howling of Pandemonium hunting for its next prey.

"You better go to that door over on the right." Painter advised, his voice uncharacteristically monotone.

You failed to pay attention to that and rushed to the door, quickly inserting the keycard-

Only to come face to face with Z-96, whose long claws reached out to slash you across the face. You fell backwards as the door slammed shut, the creature barely managing to drag its arm back inside, with a message in red appearing on the screen beside it.

I need you. Why do you always leave me?

'Bastard. He tricked me-'

Then you heard one final loud scream, and turned around..

Seeing nothing but a gaping maw with crooked rotting teeth and dozens of eyes closing in on you.

You should have known better. You should have just focused on the mission and ignored him from the start.

Now he'll never let you leave, and he'll find other ways to make sure of that.

[moonstruckme]

I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3

Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell. 

“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”

“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.” 

“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.

“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”

You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.” 

“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…

“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.

The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”

“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.” 

There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”

“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor. 

“Easy,” Prongs murmurs. 

Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is. 

Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels. 

“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.” 

Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter. 

You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back. 

You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.” 

“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”

“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.” 

Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?

“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.” 

The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.” 

“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”

The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”

Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching. 

You blink. “No?”

Moony shrugs, looking alarmingly shamefaced. “No.” 

“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.” 

“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”

“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.” 

Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.” 

Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”

“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.” 

You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.” 

“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.”  Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”

You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss. 

Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”

Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”

[sencrose]

-- SAPPHIRE PASSION

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: dubcon, extremely dubious consent?, idol AU, object insertion, pain, coercion, praise, masturbation, fingering, creampie

wc: 5.1k

a/n: i'm taking notes from underground jp idol culture, if you have any questions feel free to ask (would love to talk more about it despite my pretty shallow knowledge, i am begging actually). in short: chekis -> polaroids, oshi -> fave/bias, oshikatsu -> showing support for your fave. ao3 link with alot more notes here

summary: you're too eager to please, and Satoru's all too willing to take advantage.

Sometimes you wish you had a more socially acceptable hobby. It’s hard maintaining friendships when your days are constantly blocked out by concerts, when you spend all your money on chekis and oshikatsu goods. Whenever you try to explain, you’re met with looks of disgust and snide comments about how you’re throwing money into an endless pit.  

In terms of romantic prospects, it’s not like you can invite anyone over to your apartment either, cramped and covered in a plethora of merch that most people would find strange at best and downright creepy at worst. But that wish washes away as soon as you step to the front of the line.

”Oh look who’s back! How have you been?” Satoru beams with a smile that puts the sun to shame.

”I’m doing great, how are you?” you greet back, handing him your ticket.

“I’m doing great as well!” He gestures to the staff member to get ready to shoot. 

”What kind of pose do you wanna do this time?” he asks. 

”Can we do heart cat ears?”

”Oh, I don’t think I’ve done that before,” his hands press together to show his excitement, “how do you do it?” His eyes peer into yours, sparkling with anticipation.

You bend your index finger while keeping your middle straight and put them on top of your head, two halves of a heart placed to look vaguely like cat ears.

”Aw, that’s so cute! As expected of my cutest fan.” 

He says that almost every time you’ve met him. You’re sure he says it to all the other fans as well, but it never fails to send blood rushing to your face.

The cameraman counts down from three and the two of you get posed up. With a flash, the picture is taken. The film slowly slides out of the polaroid camera, and Satoru swiftly takes it, shaking a paint pen in his other hand to get ready to sign it.

”Did you enjoy the show today?”

”I did!” You exclaim, maybe a bit too excitedly as your voice squeaks unexpectedly. “It was amazing as always.” 

”Aw, that’s great. We’ve been working really hard, I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”  Satoru signs the polaroid while talking, decorating it with hearts. “What was your favorite part?”

“I don’t know, everything was so great…” you hesitate, attempting to collect your thoughts. Your nerves creep up on you, and you curse how this happens no matter how many times you’ve done this. Satoru simply nods to show he’s listening as he continues signing the polaroid.

“T-the new stage outfits are so gorgeous and they really make you shine,” you pause, trying to think of the other highlights of the night, hands gesturing in an attempt to expel your nervous energy, “but I didn’t expect you guys to perform the new single so soon, so that was a really pleasant surprise.”

“I’m glad you had such a fun time.” Satoru responds, finishing signing the polaroid with a dramatic flick of the wrist, signaling that your time together is coming to an end.

”I’ll be here to cheer you on for all your future work as well!”

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then!” Satoru holds the polaroid gingerly, blowing on it to aid the drying paint. “Now remember, be careful, hold the picture by the edges so you don’t smear the paint.” 

“Of course.” You grab hold of the picture, holding it carefully by the edges as he’d demonstrated. 

“See you next time! Thanks for all your support!”

”See you next time!” You wave back. You take in the view of the polaroid, slowly developing, the smiles of you and your oshi permanently encapsulated in the thin film. Just looking at it puts a cheesy grin on your face as you make your way out of the venue.

After the paint has had ample time to dry, you place the picture in your wallet, in the transparent slot that’s usually reserved for your ID. This is more important anyways.

---

You must be losing your mind. There’s no way this is real.

You were adjusting all of your chekis, moving them between your mini photo albums. The most recent polaroid had something written on the back:

Text me sometime? xx-xxxx-5429

After finding this hidden message, you dug through the rest of the chekis you’ve collected over the years, only to find nothing. It’s just this one. When did he even get the chance to write this?

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Should you even message it? Are you willing to cross that line?

…

You are. You definitely are. 

---

you: hey, is this Satoru?

Satoru, maybe?: depends, is this my cutest fan?

Satoru, maybe?: with the heart cat ears? ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

You slam your phone down on your bed in a panic, as if it’s been possessed by a demon. Your heart races as you grab on to your chest, attempting to inhale deeply to collect yourself before unlocking your phone and typing again. 

you: haha yeah

you: but wait, how do i know it’s you?

Satoru, maybe?: <1 attachment>

Satoru, maybe?: does this prove it?

You open the picture with bated breath only to realize it really is him. It isn’t a picture you recognize from his SNS accounts, considering he barely uploads anything to them. 

you: i guess it does :)

Satoru, maybe?: then i was wondering

Satoru, maybe?: did you wanna go out sometime? 

Satoru, maybe?: my treat of course

Alright, play it cool, take a deep breath. This does nothing to still your racing heart. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. 

you: yes i’d love to!

Satoru, maybe?: awesome! are you free this saturday?

you: yeah i am! :)

Satoru, maybe?: cool, meet me at the station at 2?

you: sounds like a plan 

Satoru, maybe?: alright, see you then :)

you: see you then :)

---

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. 

You spent all morning agonizing over what to wear, and you can only hope that it was the right choice. You wait anxiously by the station exit, keeping your phone on standby for any incoming texts. 

“Hey!” Satoru approaches you, although heavily obscured. Baggy black hoodie and pants swallow his figure, along with a baseball cap, mask, and sunglasses covering his face. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” He tilts his face down towards you so you can get a look at his eyes, and prove that it is indeed him – not that you need the evidence, you would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Oh no worries,” you smile nervously, noting just how close he is to you, “I just got here.”

“That’s great!” he says, punctuating the end of his sentence with a clap, “Well, let’s get going!” 

“Where are we headed?” You follow behind him, letting him lead the way.

“I thought a cafe would be nice.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “You like sweets?”

“I do!”

The two of you make your way to the cafe, engaging in casual small talk along the way. You feel like you’re walking on clouds alongside him, the distance between you so close that his hand occasionally grazes yours.

You find yourself in a quaint cafe hidden in an alleyway. It’s a hidden gem, you’d never find it without his recommendation. A quiet oasis in the middle of a bustling cityscape.

“They have really good pastries here. Feel free to get whatever you want.”

You look into the display case, dozens of artisan pastries and baked goods lined up neatly at your fingertips. 

After a moment of deliberation, the two of you order your food, an array of pastries, along with two coffees showing up at your table shortly after.

“I ordered some extras too in case you wanna try any of them.”

”Oh, thank you.” You reach towards what you assume is a chocolate croissant, ripping a piece off. It has a light crispy skin, melting in your mouth as soon as you take a bite. 

“Wow, this really is good.”

“Right? I love coming here.” Satoru exclaims, taking off some of his layers.

“Are you sure about that?”

”Yeah, don’t worry I come here all the time. Plus,” he says, gesturing to the empty tables, “Nobody’s really around.”

You already knew you were on a date with him, but it feels so much more real when his sunglasses and mask are off. You take in the sight of him and even under the dim lighting of the cafe, his beauty shines, almost blindingly so. You notice yourself staring a bit too long at his face, eyes shifting to the side.

”You can look all you want,” he teases, placing his hands on the back of his head as if he’s trying to show off, “I don’t mind.” 

You bring yourself to look at him again, but he has that award winning smile that has heat blazing a trail to your cheeks.

”So…” you trail off, unsure how to carry on the conversation. It’s one thing when you know you have two minutes in a controlled environment, it’s a whole other beast when you have all the time in the world. Any conversation topic that you’d usually keep slotted in your back pocket eludes you.

“You’re wearing a different outfit than usual. It’s cute.” Satoru picks up where you left off.

“Ah, I guess you’ve only seen me wearing merch at concerts, huh?”

“Yeah, but this is nice too,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee, “‘lets me see another side of you.” 

“I guess we’re both seeing different sides of each other.”

“Am I that different?”

“Maybe,” you pause, a hint of hesitance to your voice, “just a little.”

“What’s so different about me?” he asks, his chin leaning on his hand, tilting his head so he can show off his sharp jawline and the sparkle of his eyes with the sunlight shining through the window. Something about him seems just out of touch, like he’s hiding behind a mask. That said, it’s a beautiful mask.

“I’m not so sure,” you answer honestly. If you really put your head to it, he’s every bit as charming now as he is when he’s performing. Maybe even more so, but you’re not sure you have the guts to confess that. 

“You wanna know what I think is different about you?” he asks, his fork cutting a slice into his tart before pointing it at you, like an accusation of a crime, “You seem more nervous than usual.” 

“Am I right?” he asks, his voice dangerously low, before taking a bite of his tart. 

How could you not be? Your favorite idol is on a date with you of all people, and you’re well aware he’s well out of your league. 

“Yeah, you are,” you confess, eyes looking off to the side, unable to meet his gaze.

“Do I get a prize?”

“What do you want?” you ask awkwardly, shifting around in your seat ruminating on the possibilities. 

“What do you think?” He grins, his eyes tracing the features of your face until he lands on your lips. 

This might be the most forward you’ve been in your life. Time feels like it slows as you scoot your chair closer to his. With your eyes closed, you steel yourself, lips pouted, lean forward, closer — this is what he wants, right?

“Ah,” Satoru’s voice breaks your trance, “but I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do, that’s not fun.”

“O-oh,” you collect yourself, plopping back down in your seat a bit too fast, wishing you could curl up into a ball and disappear, “right.”

---

You messed up.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he just ghosted you after this. Maybe the rest of the date went fine, you’re not sure, too preoccupied with the embarrassment hanging over your head. Why did you try to kiss him?

The jingle of the door notes your departure and interrupts your spiraling thoughts as the two of you make your way back onto the busy street. The air shared between the two of you is stagnant, a clear cut contrast to the noises of the city. 

“Um, I had a lot of fun today,” you break the silence as you continue walking, “thanks for taking me out.”

“Of course! But it doesn’t have to end just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could head back to yours?” he proposes casually, eyes meeting yours.

You look back at him, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as your grip on your bag strap tightens. Your gaze shoots nervously to the floor, staring at a crushed soda can that piques your interest for the moment. 

“I-it’s a bit messy,” you look back at him only to realize he’s staring right into you, “I don’t know if you would want-“

“I don’t mind a little mess,” he says, casually wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re not scaring me off that easily.” There’s a tone behind his words you don’t recognize, something that doesn’t seem quite as rehearsed or put together like his usual self. You try to find it in yourself to protest, but the words on the tip of your tongue melt away as Satoru looks at you with a burning desire behind his eyes.

“S-sure.”

---

You make your way back to your apartment, with Satoru following right behind you. 

“Make yourself at home.”

Your place isn’t actually that messy, but it is small, feeling even more cramped when it’s covered in an embarrassing amount of merch. You didn’t actually expect him to come over, so you didn’t make any preparations to make your room seem like that of a normal person. Promotional flyers, album posters, concert apparel, smother your walls without a speck of empty space to be seen. 

His eyes are drawn to the display shelf in the corner, fit with several can badges and acrylic stands of his likeness, customized light sticks, and a fan with his face plastered on it. 

“Must be a little weird seeing this, huh?” you attempt to joke, but your awkwardness is too candid to be hidden. 

“I don’t think so. It makes you even cuter in my book.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he states with a conviction that catches you off guard, “you mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” You gesture towards the case with your hands and a slight bow, a bit too formally for the situation at hand. “Go ahead.” You swear his eyes sparkle as he looks over the case before settling on one of the light sticks.

“Did you decorate this one yourself?”

“I did! It was before you released official light sticks.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Do you mind?” he points at the stick.

“Sure.” You open the case, reaching for the light before handing it over to Satoru. Once in his hand, he taps on the buttons, cycling through the colors until it turns a beautiful shade of blue.

“Wow, this shines pretty bright.” he comments, admiration glimmering in his eyes.

“I have to show my support from the crowd.” you say, waving your fist as if you’re holding a lightstick in your hand.

Satoru mimics the chant patterns you yell at his shows with an earnestness that has you grinning ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him make a fool out of himself. He really is better suited to be on the stage. After a few moments of waving the light stick around he puts it down.

“God, your arms must be tired after doing this the whole show.” he says, holding onto his shoulder as he stretches. 

“I’m pretty used to it. If anything, it’s a great workout,” you say, raising your arm to flex the less than impressive muscle, “and you’re working out way more than I am!”

“Well with fans like you, I gotta be able to keep up.”

Before you know it, his face hovers dangerously close to yours. Your eyes meet his, an unreal crystalline blue you’ve never seen this close. His hand brushes against yours, fingers gently slotting into yours. His other hand caresses your chin with gentleness you’ve only dreamt of. Satoru brings his face towards you, sealing your lips with a kiss. The scent of vanilla and cardamom fills your lungs, a stark and welcome difference from the sweat and stale odor of the venues you usually see him in. 

It’s just a kiss, but you can feel yourself getting lost in his lips, heat building in your body as you press into him. He presses further into you with a fervor that overwhelms you as he wraps his hand around your waist. His kisses become more intense, like rain clouds swirling into a storm, asking, demanding for an entrance you’re all too willing to give him, parting your lips. The taste of coffee and sugar dance on his tongue, intoxicating like a spell, pulling you in further. Everything about him is overwhelming, the way his body is pressed flush against yours, his grip around your waist, how he maneuvers you closer to the foot of your bed until you fall gracelessly onto it. Satoru hovers above you, toned arms on either side of your head, white strands framing his face, eyes filled with lust. 

“Could you do something for me?” The question is simple enough, but you sense something darker behind his words. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but after that debacle at the cafe, you’re far too eager to please, to make amends in any way you can.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Show me how much of a fan you are.”

He places the penlight in your hand, wrapping his fingers against yours. His hand guides you to lift the hem of your skirt, the light now pressing against the fabric of your underwear.

“Would you do that for me?” he asks, sultry and sweet. 

Your breath catches in your lungs, face burning as if your cheeks are flint and he’s lit a match under your nose. The beat of your heart rings rhythmically in your ears, as you question if you heard his proposition correctly. Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“I-I haven’t done anything like this.” you say, not exactly answering his question, hoping he accepts your answer. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you every step of the way.” His fingers hook into the side of your underwear, sliding up and down your slit. “I’ll even help you get started.”

You’re at a loss for words, nerves paralyzing your tongue, only able to give him a shy nod. 

He continues playing with you, fingers finding your clit and drawing languid circles that are just a bit too slow. An unfamiliar tension grows in your core, begging for release.

“You really are my cutest fan.” he whispers in your ear, honey dripping off every word.

His finger teases your hole, slowly inserting to a shallow depth before taking it out. Your muscles squeeze in anticipation only for him to play with your entrance, rubbing against your folds before entering you again. Your hole envelops his finger as he pushes it in. He starts with a curl, his finger digging around as if he’s searching for something. Within a moment, he’s pressing against the spot that has you leaning into him, chasing for more. 

You can’t keep your satisfaction hidden, low gasps spilling from your lips as you realize your hips are bucking into him. His fingers build a steady pace, and you meet him there, desperately humping into his touch. 

“So needy, huh?” he teases before inserting another finger into you. It slides in without any resistance, a testament to your arousal. 

A warmth builds in your body, your breathing labored as he has his way with you. You melt under his touch, like putty in his hands. It’s a wasted effort to keep your voice back, volume rising as you bite back on your hand.

Satoru pauses for a moment, fingers slowly exiting as he admires your arousal on his hands. He reaches out for the penlight, bringing it towards your hole. The plastic presses uncomfortably against your slit, collecting your slick he slides it up and down your lips. Your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat, and a twinge of fear hits you when you realize you’ve never had something so large inside you. 

“S-Satoru, I’m not sure about this.” You hold his wrist firmly, an attempt to have him pause.

“Don’t worry, it’ll feel really good, I promise.” Satoru ignores your grip, slowly pushing the light stick into your hole, the object feeling foreign inside of you. The stretch is uncomfortable, cold unfeeling plastic separating your walls. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, or the intrusion inside your body, eyes darting across the room to look at something, anything else — a daunting task when his likeness is plastered all over the walls. 

“Just like this.” He brings your attention back to him, patient hand holding onto yours, gripping you as he slowly fucks you with the light stick. Your pussy envelops the light, blue sheen disappearing as he pushes it in more. With every thrust, you can see your arousal glossing the surface of the light stick. You don’t recognize it as the object of your affection, custom made for him. It’s molded into something else altogether, a vessel solely there to deliver a hot tension to your core. 

The discomfort from the stretch slowly dissipates, a flare of pleasure building in its place. It starts to feel less foreign as it warms up to the temperature of your insides. Satoru starts to pick up the pace, lewd squelches escaping your cunt with each pump.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos. His lips graze the nape of your neck, a subtle lick to test the waters, earning a high pitched squeal that comes out more like an excited moan. You feel him grin against your skin, kisses tracing a line towards your shoulder. You can’t deny yourself the heat that builds in your core, the way your breath hitches in your chest with every kiss, every drag of the light stick.

“Show me how good you feel.” His eyes watch intently as his hand lets go of yours. You continue fucking yourself with the light stick, free hand rubbing circles on your clit, desperate to soothe that building ache for release. Satoru watches intently, his hand stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. 

Heat rises in your face, in disbelief that you’re doing this in front of him — but he’s getting off on it too, a blush painting his face as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock from his briefs. Satoru lifts the hem of his shirt before biting onto the fabric, revealing muscles you’ve only seen on stage in fleeting moments of fanservice. Even from those short glimpses, you knew he had a well-maintained physique, but it’s much more sinful when it’s mere inches away, for your viewing pleasure alone.  There’s something arousing about watching the image of your picture perfect idol falling apart as he loses himself in the throes of passion. He moans under his breath, desperate for release as he strokes his cock harder.

The view’s enough to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over your body as you gush over yourself, walls fluttering and clamping onto the illuminated plastic. Satoru’s close behind you, soft moans escaping him as he cums, hot ropes of semen covering your pussy.

You’re barely able to gather yourself, chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace, a sheen of sweat covering your back, causing the fabric of your shirt to cling to you. Aftershocks of your pleasure shoot through you, phantom spasms clamping to the intrusion inside your cunt. Your walls clings to the light stick, feeling a bit of resistance as you pull it out. Your muscles shiver at its absence, core aching at the emptiness. The light flickers before turning off permanently. Guess it wasn’t waterproof.

Satoru chuckles as he collects himself, still out of breath from his orgasm. “Wow, you actually did it. Maybe the rumors about my fans are true.”

“What rumors?”

“They’re sluts.”

His words deliver a sobering realization that brings you down from your high and back to reality. Your face twists in embarrassment, blood rushing to your cheeks in a wicked heat. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the first,” he purrs low, kissing the nape of your neck. You’re not sure you can believe him. “And for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed it.” 

“Look what you did to me,” he teases, stroking his hard cock, already raring to go. “Gotta do something about it, yeah?” His cock presses against your slit, slowly humping into it, his pre and your juices mixing together. The stimulation so close after your orgasm makes you shiver.

“You’ll do it for me, right?” His head tilts inquisitively as the tip of his cock hovers over your hole, moments away from penetrating. The size of his cock strikes fear in your chest. Even compared to the light stick, you can tell you’ll struggle to take him in. You’re not sure if you’re ready for something like this, but when he asks with that honeyed tone dripping from his words, you feel charmed to say yes. You want to make him feel good too, giving another hesitant nod blessing him with the permission he craves.

“Good girl.” With a swift thrust, he forcefully pushes himself inside you, an uncomfortable stretch building into a harrowing pain. Of course a light stick doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything about it is just too much. There’s just too much resistance, too much of him inside of you. You struggle to take him in as he presses in further, holding your breath in hopes of a relief that never arrives – just a fullness you’ve never experienced before. A pained hiss escapes you as he starts humping into you recklessly, air knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, without any regard for your comfort.

“Wait, S-Satoru, it hurts.” You’re barely able to get the words out between pained groans. You attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but it does nothing to soothe the pain or slow Satoru’s pace.

“But you’re making me feel so good.” He spreads your legs apart further, fucking you with slow but hard strokes. His hands grip onto your inner thighs, using it as leverage to push himself deeper inside you. The slap of skin only gets louder, a pain striking in your core as he hits your cervix. Any attempt to drive your attention away from the pain fails, only leading to your hands gripping onto the sheets, knuckles turning a blistering white. The cool and collected facade of your idol fades away to dust. You don’t recognize the man in front of you, all greed and desire, rutting into you searching for his own high.

”Satoru, p-please, it’s too much!” you plead, hand momentarily letting go of the sheets to push against his chest.

”C’mon sweetie, I know you can do it,” whispering in that sweet yet hollow tone that hasn’t left his lips since the moment you met him, not that it does much to soothe. His tongue licks the shell of your ear, a gasp escaping your lips. 

You attempt to power through, biting down on your lip and letting your favorite idol have his way with you, ravaging your pussy like it was made just for this, just for him. Tears swell in your eyes as you try to put on a brave face. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, clenching your eyes closed as you let out choked back sobs.

”Don’t cry, you’re being so good for me,” he says in an artificially sweet tone that now sounds alien, overplayed like a broken record. One hand gently pets your head before gripping onto your hair, only serving as a support for him to push himself deeper into you. 

“You’ll feel real good soon, I promise.” You’re not sure you believe him, not sure you can believe him until his hand makes its way to your aching clit. The graze of his fingers is already enough to have you keening into him. Little shocks of ecstasy shoot through your body as he finally slows down, his hand focusing more on the bundle of nerves. His other hand reaches up to your chest, fingers crawling under the fabric to play with your tits, kneading the flesh before catching your nipple between his fingers. With his aid, your body gets acclimated to his size, the burn from being stretched out subsiding and a dull but undeniable pleasure taking its place.

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, desperate for a high you’ve never even tasted, falling back onto base, primal emotions as you start to match his tempo, pathetically pressing your body into his. You don’t recognize the salacious moans spilling from your lips, the look in Satoru’s half lidded eyes as he watches you give in to your desire. 

”See, what’d I tell you?” he pants into your ear, warmth from his breath sending a shiver up your spine, “feels good, right?”

And you hate to admit it, but he’s right: it does feel good. Better than good even, heavenly. How his length fills you up so deep, the way your cunt anticipates him with each thrust, your walls slowly taking the shape of him. Any words on the tip of your tongue disappear without a trace, head too fuzzy and scrambled to form any coherent thoughts.

The tension in your body comes to a head, body tight as your muscles clamp around his cock like a vice, panting his name with a reverence fit for an idol. Pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body, head light and hazy with bliss as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands ball into fists as he teeters the line of overstimulation, a whisper of pain too quiet to be felt before it fades. Satoru’s close behind too, pace erratic as he moans a string of hushed expletives under his breath. He comes with a deep thrust inside you, warm sticky ropes of cum coating your insides.

Satoru takes a moment to catch his breath before removing himself from you. Cum spills out of your hole, and you wince at the emptiness. You both lie on the cramped bed, out of breath, sweat clinging to your bodies. A gentle yet unreadable smile paints his face, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“You really are my cutest fan.”

[itsangelicasworld]

*･῾ ⁺ Welcome to My Teen Titans DR 🧨 .*

💥 ˗ˏˋ DESCRIPTION .ᐟ

In 2003 Jump City, a team of six teenagers called the "Teen Titans" fight against supervillains threatening their beloved metropolis. Along the way, they must face issues even worse than superpowered antagonists who want them captured; emotions, romance, and navigating the bumpy road of impending adulthood. My DR follows the plot of the show except with my own headcanons, scenarios, etc.

Like the show, there are no secret identities; so our superhero personas are quite literally just us. WHICH MEANS WE'RE TREATED LIKE CELEBRITIES!! People ask for photos/autographs, we have merch, and there's even an entire Teen Titans fandom with forums and fanarts and theories!! Not super relevant to this reality's lore, but thought it'd be cool to mention🤭.

🔆 ˗ˏˋ ABOUT ME .ᐟ

NAME : Angelica Sterling

NICKNAMES : Quin, Angel

AGE : 16-years-old

PRONOUNS : She/her/hers

ETHNICITY : Black and Mexican

MBTI : INFP-T

PERSONALITY : Optimistic, courageous, charismatic, empathetic, humorous, witty, mature, impatient, cautious, idealistic

HERO ALIAS : Quanta

POWER : Quantum Manipulation (basically the ability to manipulate the very foundation of the universe/matter because I'm the main character actually🤭)

SUB-POWERS : Healing, telekinesis, quantum empowerment, shapeshifting

DRAWBACKS : Using too much of my power at one time can lead to fatigue; symptoms range from mild (grogginess, irritability) to severe (headaches, unconsciousness). Additionally, under incredibly high-stress situations or potent emotions, my powers may become unstable or erratic

COMBAT SKILLS : Hand-to-hand, mixed martial arts, kickboxing, and of course using my powers, which include shooting projectiles and making defense constructs

🍕 ˗ˏˋ RELATIONSHIPS .ᐟ

I made moodboards + added some quotes for all of them here, so check that out if you wanna see their aesthetics🤭

ROBIN : My s/o!! I could write 100 paragraphs about this man but I'll list our tropes instead💪

Tortured hero (on his side, he gets it from Batman ftgyhuhgtfg)

Friends to lovers

Slooowwww burn

Mutual pining

Healing together

STARFIRE : Me and her are SUUCHH girly-girls. Having sleepovers, going to the mall, exploring the city, etc. is literally all we do and I love it. She also really likes ranting about Tamaran to me. Hearing her childhood stories is so sweet🛐

RAVEN : Initially, Raven needed time to warm up to me, but now we have a really close bond. UGGHH I can't wait to meditate with this girl and talk about spirituality. AND I SCRIPTED I'M THE ONLY ONE SHE ALLOWS IN HER ROOM, SO IT'S LIKE HAVING VIP TICKETS FFGHFFG BEAST BOY : This dude is such a jokester but he's so insecure I just NEED TO HUG HIM😭😭. He's like the little brother I never had; super annoying but I couldn't imagine my life without him

CYBORG : Although I'm not as close to Cy as some of the other members, he really means a lot to me!! He's kind of like my big brother. He really likes to teach me about mechanics and I know he's always got my back, and I have his. Even though we can squabble over his attitude sometimes💀

🦇 ˗ˏˋ OUTRO .ᐟ

Feel free to send in asks about this DR (and really any of them if your curious), they'd be greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading THIS far <333

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 *+:｡.｡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ. . . . . ╰──╮

Aesthetics inspired by @/shiftingwithjaidyn's fame DR intro | Dividers by @/strangergraphics-archive

[certifiedsexed]

Idk if this is the right place to ask but here I go!

Is it considered intersexist or bad to want both sets of genitalia? Like both a penis and a vagina.

I identify as a trans man and I was born as someone who is perisex. With everything else, I wanna fully transition in T and get top surgery but bottom surgery is...complicated.

From my knowledge it wouldn't be refered to as transitioning into being intersex because that part I know is intersexist. I also wouldn't be claiming to have the intersex experience. I just simple want both a penis and vagina because I feel thats how I would feel most comfortable for a multitude of reasons.

Idk if you yourself are intersex and can say anything on this but I need this out there somewhere to get someone who intersex have their input in this does this make sense

uhhh sorry to bother sbfnsnf

Simple answer? No, it's not, in fact it's literally a bottom surgery option. It's called VPP (or vaginal preserving phalloplasty) and its cool as fuck.

Slightly more complicated answer? While that type of transition isn't intersexist for you to want [or have], it's worth thinking about the fact you're connecting "having two 'or both' sets of genitalia" to being intersex. While there ARE intersex people who have more than one type of genitalia, it's not a fixed characteristic of intersex people.

Maybe learning more about intersex people would help you understand both what actually being intersex is and how what you're talking about isn't intersexist. (This post has a lot of resources on the intersex community, though admittedly it's rather US centric)

It's no bother btw, I love asks. Feel free to send more if you have any other questions. <3