#I'll keep working hard for all of you guys

[grinly]

Here's what any porn guy needs to do to get this to work.

You start on an ordinary office building shot, exterior but shot in a very bright cheerful Barbie way, the businesses name is on a sign "Beavers Hardwood (Imports and Exports)" then you get the white text drop with a narrator "Project MK Ultra secret headquarters - it was janitor Peter McStuffin's last day on the job"

Anyways you keep the attention with everyone being kind hot and the crazy MK Ultra stuff going on, have McStuffin try to be a normal janitor but he can kinda take on the role of the guy peeping at things if you want to, the important thing is that he goes into an office labeled "Dr Barbenheimer" and "On vacation at my Malibu dream house!"

The janitor accidentally knocks the horny bomb off a shelf and you cut to a a giant pink nuclear blast maybe have it wash over the city. Go for a real post apocalyptic fallout thing, but it's all shot with that bright cheerful Barbie style. The people who didn't have any shielding from the sex radiation got extra horny and extra hot. Feral sexy ghouls absolutely boinking people to death. Say boinking a lot. Avoid swears, lots of euphemisms and Barbie looking people fucking. It's about the humorous contrast in the tone and asthetic.

Dr Barbenheimer is sitting on a beach in her pink bikini drinking a coconut drink and sees the bomb going off. She tips down her great big sunglasses to look over the top of them and says "I have become sex, fucker of worlds" and then has to out fuck the sex zombies to make her way to the lab with her boy toy Ken, but have him get caught by a horde of sexy sex zombies in a hilarious way early on so you can have another hot survivor who managed not to get sex bombed (because she was in the basement of her church with her book club) yell "You're a Doctor, save him!" while he gets absolutely railed in the background.

The point of this is so you can have Barbie yell the line "I'm not that kind of doctor! I'm a doctor of sociology! C'mon, he's already one of them. We have to get to the lab before they come up on us from behind."

Anyways you end it with them both boinking the sex zombie boss, who happens to be the janitor - get someone with an unnaturally big one for that role, an absolutely monster dong - so hard that he passes out. Just as they get the "sex bomb cure" out of a safe Ken and the zombie horde comes up on them from behind and they drop it, it breaks. Then you cut to moaning and slapping noises as another bomb labeled "Ultra sex bomb" is slowly shaken off the shelf.

Text "The End" but then more slapping and moaning and add the "...?" If it does well enough do a sequel where the military comes in to try and quell the hot zombies and their freaky free love hippy nonsense where the entire city has turned into a sexy utopia where people dress all in simple bright colored clothes that are easy to peel off and everyone enjoys kale smoothies when they aren't boinking each other's brains out. Have a lot of rollerskates and disco and call it "Barbenheimer 2: Electric Boogaloo"

Anyways, give me a writing credit and whatever you normal salary is and I'll flesh (hehe) out one or both of these scripts. Or just steal it and say you asked an AI for script ideas and it spit it out for you. Copyright is dead my dudes.

I remember meeting a guy at a bar a year or so ago who told me he worked at the international consortium that does the porn parodies of all the top-grossing film releases. He said that the whole Barbenheimer situation presented his combine with some spectacular highs and lows. Because he said that with Barbie, right, the thing about Barbie is that there's already kind of a three-way ideatic, structural parallel between the curated artificiality of Barbie as a children's toy, the curated artificiality of Barbie as a mass market film, and the curated artificiality of pornography as a genre. Add on top of that that Barbie as a film is already feeling this tension, right where it's trying to be about a character graduating from the platonic sexlessness of a children's franchise to the functional-and-frank sexuality of being a living human woman, but it's also being bogged down in the "Everyone-is-beautiful-no-one-is-horny" aesthetic restrictions of any contemporary big-budget mass-market film so the two states end up looking pretty similar, he said. I mean the film itself is very aware of that tension, right, with that joke about how "casting Margot Robbie is the wrong move if you want to make that point," all that jazz. So, all that in mind, Barbie-themed pornography, he said, is in a weird way actually kind of complementary to the extant project, gesturing at unaddressed tensions and ideas, a dark mirror, the shadow self it wants to deny but can't, there's a lot of room to play in the space. He used the adjective "Lynchian" a couple of times, he seemed super stoked, he was talking with his hands. Oppenheimer, on the other hand. Oppenheimer he said presented a problem. Because obviously you can eroticize the detonation of an atomic bomb, we're all probably three mutuals removed from someone on this site who does exactly that, but obviously that's a niche market, and moreover it's a market that has a ton of overlap with high-minded thinkers who treat the historical use of atomic weapons against Japan with the level of gravity that atrocity demands. So they were stuck. They were really stuck. He told me that they'd been pulling their hair out for months trying to square the circle and all they had to show for it was a big whiteboard with the phrase "Grope-nheimer" written on it

[chelseeebe]

girls on film

18+. mdni! smut, so much smut. p in v, eddie is a munch! alcohol mentions. pornstar!eddie munson x reader. no use of y/n! modern au.

eddie munson makes porn. you make it. only, eddie doesn't much like the sounds of that.

a/n: happy valentines day my loves! spend some time with our favourite nerd eddie instead of a real man that'll only disappoint. i am so guilty of always giving eddie a breeding kink and then just never giving him any children oopsie hehe. i've been writing this on and off for months now, i already have a p2 and p3 the question is whether i'll finish them or not lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

when anyone asked, you’d tell people you were a set assistant. 

what they didn’t have to know was that you were a set assistant for pornstars. 

it wasn’t ever a dream of yours, nor something you’d have ever pictured yourself doing, but it paid the bills and hey, sometimes you met cool people through it too. 

today’s no different to any other, waiting for the talent to arrive as you prep the scene. it’s something ludicrous, metal guy meets friends innocent younger sister, something along those lines. 

you never really paid attention to much of that stuff, at some point it just became so much noise and frantic movement that the script never really mattered. 

he’s late. you’ve heard whispers of his nonchalance before. only hoping that you’d still get home on time. 

when the elusive man finally decides to bless you all with his presence, you’re taken back. not ever expecting the lanky guy that had shuffled through the door. all hair and denim. 

his charm makes up for his tardiness. flowing out of his mouth in droves, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the crew until he gets to you. 

“hey,” the man grins, pulling you in for a half-hug, “i’m eddie, super excited for today now that i’ve seen you.” 

you stare back in confusion, you’d be running towels and telling lighting what to do, why would he ever be excited about that? 

“anything you’re not comfortable with?” he asks, squeezing your arm gently. 

“oh.. what? i’m not- sorry, i just work on set,” shrinking into yourself although flattered that he’d thought you were starring opposite him. 

“oh,” sounding almost disappointed, “that’s a real shame,” the thick smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke wafting towards you. 

your cheeks burn, averting your gaze to the ground, finding solace away from his heavy stare. 

“who is the lucky lady?” eyes gliding around the women in the room, choosing to once again settle on you. 

“she’s.. um, she’s getting ready,” gesturing towards the small dressing area you had. 

you were never this bumbling, a thousand handsome men had stood before you and had never, ever had this impact upon you. 

“cool.. okay,” he nods, “where d’you need me?” his leather jacket tightening around his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your chest. 

“over here,” gesturing vaguely at the empty makeup chair, losing any and all composure when he pats your arm on the way past. 

christ. 

you needed to get a grip and get it fast. 

-

a lick of fresh air would help pull you from this disgustingly down bad headspace he’d plunged you into. 

or not. 

eddie’s hand curls around your arm just before you reach the door, “i’ll join ya,” cigarette already poised in between his lips. 

you can only nod, stepping out into the cool air though it does nothing for your flushed cheeks, edging away despite his efforts to keep close. 

you’re a little intimidated by his hardiness and hardness. struggling to keep your eyes above the waistband. 

“you ever thought about doing this?” he asks, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth. 

“not really.” 

“that’s a shame,” he smirks, “i think we’d make something beautiful,” keeping his gaze steady on your flustered face. 

“stop it,” brushing him off coyly, he didn’t have to be so sickly sweet, his smirk had clearly already worked its magic on you. 

“you don’t agree?” eddie’s eyebrow raises, taking a slow, drawn-out toke of his cigarette.

you shake your head, “there’s a reason i’m behind the camera and not in front of it,” staring out at the bleak, grey parking lot. 

“well i think we should change that,” stepping in front of you, leaving you no room to not look at him, “i’m in town for the week, i’d love to see you again.” 

this didn’t happen to you, ever. the girls you worked with were otherworldly in terms of their beauty, no one ever really paid you any attention at all. 

eddie can sense your hesitation, assuming that he’d scared you away already, “look, take my number. you don’t have to call but i’d like you to,” slipping his cell from his pocket. 

you nod almost on your own, retrieving your own phone to hand off to him. he’s slick in the way he taps the number in, cigarette balanced on his lip as his eyes flicker between phone screens. 

“there ya go,” placing your phone back in your clammy palm, “do what you want with it, i go back to chicago on thursday,” making it clear that whatever this may be, would be temporary. 

“o-okay,” nodding quickly, there was a high likelihood that his number just sat there for the rest of eternity, never to be used or clicked on again. 

you don’t take eddie as the type of guy to pressure you, in fact, he seems quite the opposite. so much so that if you don’t take him up on his offer, you’ll never hear from him again. 

it’s truly an offer you really shouldn’t refuse, but yet you’re hesitant to even accept his advances. mixing work and pleasure like this, especially with someone like eddie, could only end one way. 

“i better get back in, y’ready?” holding the door open, a real gentleman, making you flustered of the most common of decencies. 

you were fucked. 

-

it’s hellish watching him perform. 

not just seeing everything his tight jeans had hidden away but also the way he truly cared about his partner. 

all the gentle touches to her face, cradling her body while completely disrespecting it too. globs of spit leaving his mouth to coat her cunt, making your thighs press together with indescribable want. 

he glances back between takes, making sure to catch your eye every single time. running his tongue over his bottom lip, knocking the air from your lungs without fail. 

you’d bore witness to many overdramatic, frankly fake orgasms in your years on set. very rarely did anything ever make you feel quite like you did today. screaming jealousy at her disappearing eyes, the way his lips brush against her ear, guiding her through her second orgasm of the session. 

it’s not loud, or irritating, just soft mewls accompanied by his soothing voice, making sure you were soaking right through your jeans. 

when eddie cums, his lips fall apart, head thrown back as his hips stutter, using her back as a canvas, jaw gritted together. 

“that was great!” tom yells, your makeshift director. ushering for you to hurry up with the towels and cold water. your fingers trembling as they brush against eddie’s. 

he offers a sweet thank you, quickly slipping back into his robe as you try to regain some semblance of control over yourself. 

you’re ridiculous, a giggly teenage girl more than a grown woman who watches people fuck for a living. this had solidified your position on ever calling him, and simply put, you couldn’t. 

in fact, you’re not certain you can even speak his name again, destined to live a life of perpetual wondering about what could have been. 

-

one glass of wine seemed to have been all it took to get eddie fucking munson back into your head. 

you’d done so well so far, managing to push the disgraceful thoughts way, way to the back of your mind, only for one measly glass of sauvignon blanc to destroy all of your progress. 

it’s not like you were actually going to call him, just toying with the idea, hovering over the button. a little foreplay, if you will. 

maybe you should. 

if one glass of wine was enough to have you already breaking the promise you’d made to yourself, who’s to say what years and years of unknowing would do? 

eddie was interested first, he came onto you first. there’s no doubt he’d be as eager as you were, but you still can’t help the niggling sounds of apprehension. 

the tone is dialling before you can second guess yourself and end it, fingers trembling around your phone, as if it were a ticking time bomb awaiting detonation. 

it rings a couple times before it clicks, connecting the call, “hello?” his voice echoes, thick and as intoxicating as the first time you heard it. 

your lips move yet produce no sound. reluctantly hoping he’ll think it’s a prank call and block the number. 

“eddie,” the first word to form on your tongue, potentially the worst thing you could’ve said. 

“it’s you,” his smile evident, even through the phone, “i was hopin’ you’d call,” you can hear the hustle and bustle of the restaurant now, he mumbles something to a passing waiter about the bill and now suddenly you feel immensely guilty about calling him on a saturday night.

“i’m sorry- am i interrupting something?”

“not at all,” and you can hear him smile all over again.

but what you don’t see is him glancing over at the busty redhead still at the table, waving back at her innocuous wiggle of the fingers. 

“what’re you doing tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“nothing really.. i mean, if you’re not busy, maybe you could.. or we could do something?” wanting to die the second the words leave your lips. 

“that sounds good to me,” his audible grin unwavering, “how ‘bout i come over?” 

you freeze, looking around at the mess surrounding you, piles of paperwork and clothes litter the floor, resembling somewhat of a dumpster rather than an apartment. 

“..you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” answering his own question. 

“-no!” interjecting before he could change his mind entirely, “you should come over,” turning into a desperate little slut before he’d ever even touched you. 

eddie pauses, his feet shuffling in the background, “okay,” voice intoxicatingly thick, “give me thirty minutes and i’m all yours.” 

all yours. 

christ. 

you can feel your knees buckle, turning into putty in his hands. 

“o-okay, i’ll send you the address,” ending the call before you fumble this any further. 

immediately springing up from the mattress, deciding that the one and only time you’re going to mix work and pleasure must be perfect. you work on grabbing piles of clothes, shoving them back into the closet they belonged in. 

eddie wouldn’t care, would he? 

perhaps keeping stuff to the living room would be better, the tiny couch would make do. 

-

thirty minutes practically on the dot, there’s a knock on the door. 

oh god oh god oh god. 

this was a mistake. 

you should shut off all the lights and just pretend you’re not home. 

don’t be so silly. 

cursing the self-sabotaging thoughts, damned to make you second guess every single thing about yourself. 

your head peaks around the open gap, eyes falling on his chest to rise up and meet his daunting eyes. there’s a bottle of wine tucked beneath his arm, the half bottle you’d downed beforehand completely unbeknownst to him. 

eddie blinks, his lips cocked to the side, “well hello,” dressed far too nicely for a drunken booty call at your apartment. 

“hi,” utterly meek and pathetic, swooning over his suave greeting. 

“you look good,” gaze trailing down to your bare legs. you hadn’t expected him to be so put together, now regretting your choice of what was essentially just pyjamas. 

“tha-thank you,” pulling the door open wider, “come in, please,” stepping back to let him inside. 

the air thickens immediately, your clothes suddenly too tight and your palms clammy. if you ever wanted eddie to stay interested in you, you’d have to get ahold of yourself quick. 

“nice,” he saunters around the room, looking at your pictures and the other piles of accumulated artefacts ok your shelves. settling just before the couch to turn and smile. “you live alone?” 

you nod automatically, the air sucked from your lungs at the sheer sight of him in your apartment. it felt like some strange crossover dream that really should’ve stayed unexplored. 

“that’s good to know,” helping himself into the kitchen, opening cabinets to presumably find two wine glasses. 

you brush off his comments, it was no secret as to what he was here for. “top left,” arm brushing against his as you make your way into the small space. 

musk and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke waft your direction, decidedly not turning to sniff his jacket like you so wished you could. 

“care to join me?” offering the bottle out in your direction. 

if you were even just an inch braver, you’d create some witty come back, some utterly irresistible flirty banter that’d surely have him crawling on his knees for you. 

but you aren’t, so instead you nod, hoping you won’t resemble such a wallflower all night. 

-

“can’t believe a pretty girl like you was gonna spend a saturday night all alone,” eddie gushes, a quarter of his wine sipped away. 

it’s incredibly hard to remain stoic when his eyes are crescent-moons, lashes cascading shadows over his cheeks and his tongue periodically wets his plump bottom lip. a routine he's no doubt mastered the art of by now.

“i’m always..” gesturing into thin air, unfortunately aware that whatever came out of your mouth next would make you look like a pathetic loser, “i mean, i go out sometimes..” making matters worse tenfold. 

“really?” 

why’d you open your mouth? 

“no.. i work a lot so..” clearing your throat in a bid to make him forget you’d ever spoken. “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything..” shrugging softly, though you’d already known you had done. 

“i was out for dinner.. nothing important,” brushing you off, “she wasn’t exactly.. uh, great company,” laughing into his glass of red. 

the cogs turn, sudden realisation that you had interrupted a date. and he’d let you. 

“you were on a date,” cringing at yourself, frustratedly embarrassed for no good reason, “i’m sorry- fuck, you should’ve said,” wanting to die a thousand deaths. 

he looks utterly perplexed, “if i wanted to be there, i’d be there, alright?” patting your thigh, the first of his daring moves, “i wanted to see you,” thumb circling the soft skin. 

already making you melt half an hour in. you were toast. there’s positively no way you’ll make it out of here with your dignity in tact. 

“..okay,” bashfully nodding along to his heavy words, seldom to back down so easily. there’s just something about eddie munson and his doe eyes that turns you into a submissive mess. 

his hand doesn’t move from your knee, tracing circles around the bone, “you’re so beautiful and you don’t even know it, do you?” trying his hardest to meet your averted gaze. 

fuck. 

your cheeks burn, pussy already throbbing and he had scarcely touched you yet. how was it possible for him to be so sweet? his words thick like molasses, dripping, leaving their mark all over you. 

“i’m just..” what has gotten into you? this was pathetic. “you’re very kind eddie,” smiling gently, as if his words hadn’t sent you into cardiac arrest. 

he hums, a deep noise from the bottom of his chest, “say my name again sweetheart,” purring, toying with coming closer, “i like it better when you say it.” 

you’d scream it if he wanted you to. let all your neighbours know who was making you act like such a fool. 

“you don’t have to sweet talk me.. you’re already sat on my couch,” finding the last lingering ebbing of confidence to bite back. 

eddie laughs, deep and rumbling, “but i like seeing you squirm.”

oh god. 

had he trained in this? he’s so quick witted, bouncing off of whatever you say immediately. 

“you’re so..” trailing off into silence as you meet his heavyset gaze, intimidated and fazed all at once. 

“so.. what, sweetheart?” cocking his head to the side, alongside his lips. 

you hate him. 

his overwhelming confidence, his gaze that has your heartbeat in your throat and your fingers clawing at your thigh. there was something so intimidating and yet oddly charming about his presence.

“so annoying,” biting back, only really annoyed that he had successfully woo’d you. and without much effort at all.

eddie looks vaguely hurt for a moment, only for his grin to spring right back onto his face, “i don’t think you mean that,” sucking on the backs of his teeth. 

you’d been caught out immediately, bowing your head to hide the inevitable flush. 

just fucking do it. 

the same nagging voice that had made you call him in the first place starts up again, louder this time. if his brazen flirting wasn’t enough to get you to make a move, what would be? 

choosing to grasp the moment as it is, refusing to allow him any more power over you for tonight.  

you charge forward, chest bashing into his equally as heaving chest, attempting to straddle his thighs until you’re stopped by his large palm groping your thigh. 

he breaks apart, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek, “it’s real sweet that you think you’re in charge,” quickly taking your wrists into his grasp, pushing against your pouncing stance to press your back against the couch instead. 

you let him, sinking into the cushions as he moves atop of you, hands skilfully skirting over your hips, tugging at your loose-fitting shorts. 

“oh darlin’, i’ve been waitin’ for this,” running his hands back up your doughy thighs, squeezing the pliant flesh on their way. 

you just about melt under the pressure of his sweet talk, allowing him the power to manoeuvre your body any which way he wanted. there’s a soft thunk as your sweatpants hit the floor, his hand spreading your legs to give him full view of your sodden panties. 

you’re not sure you’ve ever been as wet as you are now, positively drenched just by the feel of fingertips against your skin. 

eddie hums, large hands skirting your thighs, a soft squeeze to the doughy skin, “i really thought you’d never call,” slowly sinking down, leaving a trail of peppered kisses on his way, the tank top you’d slung on gives him perfect view of your hardened nipples, tugging the fabric until your tits fall out. 

“wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” continuing on, making you squirm with every lick of his lips, every last syrupy sweet word. 

his lips attach to the overly sensitive skin as his free hand palms the other, tongue twisting around the bud forcing the pathetic whimper from your throat. 

you can feel him smile against your chest, mouth popping off just to lock around the other, continuing his descent down between your legs. 

he pries your thighs apart, looking up at your skittish eyes, jumping from object to object as the pressure in your clit worsens. 

his lips startle you, warm and wet on the pliant skin, sucking and nibbling until he reaches the hem of your shorts. “you dressed up f’me,” hooking his fingers into the waistband, a short tap on your hip has them jumping up to help him. 

eddie glides them down your legs, holding onto your ankle as the fabric hits the ground. his pretty pink lips curve upward before pecking the soft cotton clothing your cunt. he’s a genius, a master of his craft. you’re not at all shocked that women were lining up to have their turn. 

you quiver when he pulls away, thighs pressed together in a bid to satiate the ache left in his wake. 

his thumb traces your clothed slit, pressing into your hole just to come right back up and circle your clit. it’s almost as if you can feel your brain chemistry changing with every single touch, destined to haunt every other encounter you’d have after this. 

no one had nor would ever touch your body with such sincerity and care again. it just wasn’t possible. 

arousal seeps out, turning the gray coloured cotton darker, literally dripping with want for him. 

your hands come up to hide your warm face, covering your eyes, mostly as an excuse to cut the weighted eye contact he hadn’t once broken. 

but his hands are fast, faster than yours. coming to pull yours right back down again, scolding you for even trying it. “don’t do that.. please don’t do that.”

you nod, vowing to do nothing to piss him off again. eddie’s a professional at best, a whore at worst. he knows what’ll get you whirring, knows where to lay his fingers and in what tone to whisper his words. 

sickening. 

he smirks, one-sided, “i like that you don’t fight it,” trusting you enough to let go of your wrists, delving back between your plush thighs. 

words fail to form, overcome with such horniness that you can’t think straight. 

enough of the games, you want to bellow. 

touch me touch me touch me. 

you’re aching, clenching around nothing. the hollow emptiness driving you further and further into craziness. 

“can we..” sighing softly, losing your train of thought as quickly as it came, “i need you,” digging your nails into the poor couch. this cruel and twisted routine had to stop. 

“nuhuh,” eddie huffs, his warm breath splaying across your cunt, “i’m takin’ my sweet time with you,” using his middle and forefinger this time to dance tauntingly over your pussy, grinning manically to himself. 

“but-,” cut off when his fingers curl around your panties, the cool, harsh air hitting your cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“wow,” he marvels, looking lovesick at your slick folds, “she’s so pretty,” in awe of the sight before him. 

your self-consciousness had faded, losing to your disgustingly eager lust. he could do whatever, however he wanted to you. he just needed to do it quickly. 

his tongue peaks out over his lips, preparing for his feast, “you’ve been so patient,” stubble brushing against the inside of your sensitive thigh, “i think you deserve this.” 

with that, your panties come down, he doesn’t even need you to move, expertly manoeuvring them from your skin. he cradles the damp fabric between his fingers for a moment before sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

you can’t protest, you don’t even want to. he was welcome to take whatever he wanted or needed. 

eddie wraps a hand around your calf, resting it upon his shoulder, repeating the motion as your feet settle on his upper back. his palm finds your thigh next, looping his arms around for leverage. 

he hums with pure sick, adulterated satisfaction, one last glance at your glistening cunt before meeting your gaze. “keep your eyes on me sweetheart,” kissing lazily at the skin, antagonistically slow to make his way up. 

your fingers lay on the couch, scared for what you can and can’t do. 

his tongue meets your folds, pulling you out of your worry and into the real world. fuck whatever his rules were, you needed to touch him. weaving frantic fingers through the curls on top of his head, receiving an encouraging hum of approval, his throat vibrating against your cunt. 

“oh my.. fuck,” panting into the abyss, unable to stop your hips from moving against his face. you’d fuck his face and any other time, he’d let you, but that wasn’t the plan. 

he clamps down on your wriggling hips, keeping them pressed to the couch, refusing to allow you any control over the situation. 

eddie’s lips attach to your poorly neglected clit, sucking gently at the bud, forcing the not-so-quiet moans out of your throat, fingers curling around the strands just to tug on them with every flick of his tongue. 

the knot in your stomach is tight already, threatening to snap at any moment. especially trying when the tip of nose nudges at your clit, sitting right on top while his tongue makes you see stars, circling around your hole and right back up between your folds. 

you’ve never been this wet in your life, arousal dripping from his chin to your ass and thighs. when he pulls away just briefly, his puffy lips gleam in the dim light of your apartment. it’s only momentary though, quickly diving back in to pull you over the edge. 

his tongue swipes thick stripes over your cunt, aching for something him to just fill you up. “shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth. your eyes struggle to stay open, he’d forgive you, right? it was no fault of yours that his tongue felt too good, drawing you to the edge just to rip it from under you. 

lolling your head back against the arm of the couch, no longer able to abide by his arbitrary rules. your thighs were trembling, fingertips entangled in his locks, nothing except your impending orgasm mattered. 

eddie voices his displeasure through a low grumble, only twisting the knot further as his tongue laps at your pussy. a ravenous dog of sorts, refusing to let up until you came on his tongue. 

“fu-uck eddie- i can’t.. i’m gonna cum,” vibrating against his ears, feeling his smile against your core. a sick, perverted man that had you exactly where he wanted. 

the band snaps, throwing you over the edge with a twist of the stomach, shaking legs that struggle to stay perched on his shoulders and a verse of soft pleas and eddie’s that resemble a hymn. 

“.. jesu- shit,” shuddering breaths and mewls that fill the room, letting him lap away at your spent cunt. your limbs mimic jelly, letting go of your hold on his hair to clasp his face. 

eddie re-emerges, licking his lips like a cat that got the cream. self-satisfied and completely smug. 

coming up to rest his chin on your heaving stomach with inquisitive eyes, his rough stubble catching on your tired skin, “worth the wait?” as if he doesn’t already know the answer. 

you nod, rather enthusiastically, “definitely worth it,” playing with the tufts of hair that make up his choppy bangs. 

“good,” biting down onto his bottom lip just to pull himself back up, “but i’m not done with you yet,” prying your legs open once more before peeling his shirt from his body, a sight you’ve seen and yet can’t behold. 

eddie presses his already stiff cock to your cunt, toying with his prey. there’s nothing left in you to fight it, laying back on the couch with a soft sigh. 

no man would ever live up to this, you were now cursed to an unsatisfactory life with whomever you settled for. 

his pants come off next, your eyes falling to the outline of his length immediately. eyeing the tiny dark patch and certainly not thinking about him cumming in his pants while eating your pussy. 

you’ve seen his cock, and yet, your lips still fall open when he tucks his boxers underneath his balls, fisting his throbbing piece while you go googly-eyed. 

“shit,” he remarks, one hand on your knee while the other glides his leaking tip through your slick folds. “no one’s ever been this wet f’me before,” practically purring, his tone thick and full of an animalistic need you had thought was only reserved for porn. 

the pleasure rumbles around your nervous system, only to land in your stomach, squeezing the already-snapped muscle once again. 

eddie’s hand slides from your knee, up to your thigh, giving your hip a well-meaning pinch before settling beside your head on the couch. your bodies melding into one as he comes down to meet you. 

his cock nestles in between once more, slipping inside with a harsh gasp and a visceral grunt. you settle for a grip of his taut shoulders, fingers curling around the muscles and smudgy black tattoos. 

this time, eddie buries his face into your neck, suckling at the soft skin, daring to leave his mark when his teeth come out to graze. you hope they last forever, marked by him for eternity. 

the sensation is all too much, struggling to stay afloat once more, pushed further and further to edge when his tongue swipes over the violet markings that littered your collarbone. 

“holy fuck princess,” he grumbles, partially muffled, “y’gonna cum again already?” breathing heavy and stuttered, struggling with his own premature orgasm. 

words don’t appear, and honestly, at this point they didn’t mean a thing. 

instead, you nod, squeezing his shoulder in a bid to communicate. you unravel all over again, drawn out moans that get cut off by his lips, thighs shaking around his midriff. 

eddie was drinking it all in, intercepting the sweet noises from your mouth with his own, rolling his hips at a more subdued pace as you cum again. 

you were spent, utterly exhausted though he doesn’t let up. once you’re over this climax, his rhythm finds pace again. soft palm caressing your cheek while his lips attach to your jaw bone, planting a hundred quick kisses along up to your ear. 

with one knee dug into the couch, the other leg holding him up from the floor, it couldn’t be very comfortable for him like this. your pleasure was first and foremost his priority, a real man. 

he grunts, driving into your cunt with little consideration for the creaky old couch or your neighbours just trying to enjoy their saturday evening. 

“oh god eddie,” you cry. tugging at his scalp, pathetically rutting back against his hips begging for your third? fourth? orgasm to take over. 

his carefully groomed pubes catch your clit, dampened by the sheer amount of your arousal. 

you were just about ready to sleep for forty days and forty nights, both exhausted and overstimulated by his cock, the weight of his body on top of you and smooth words flowing from his mouth. 

“one more sweetheart,” speaking between rugged grunts, panting with every sloppy stroke, “gimme one more,” he coos, hand sliding down to find your clit for the last time. 

his cock twitches inside when you buck back against him, fingernails leaving harsh strips on his back, leaving your mark for the next girl. 

“shitshitshit,” you rush, coming completely undone again, trembling around his cock, babbling what must sound like pure nonsense to eddie. no doubt letting all of your deepest secrets loose in your third moment of weakness.

“mhm that’s it,” letting his cock slide all the way out, just to reach the hilt over and over again. “inside?” was all he needed to huff for you to get the message, too incoherent to ask any further questions. 

“ye-yes please,” not quite understanding the weight of your words until they leave your mouth. a problem for tomorrow. 

with that, eddie topples over, his orgasm rippling through his limbs and his cock pumping thick ropes of his release inside your exhausted pussy. your cries intertwining in the hot air to create a chorus line of pleasure. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he heaves, collapsing in a fit of exhaustion. a sticky pile of limbs that starts with you and ends somewhere with eddie. 

everything feels surreal, the light is gleaming and you sort of feel as if you’re floating, watching him pepper your skin with quick kisses and slot himself comfortably on the cramped couch. 

eddie cradles your body, fixing your top to give you back the tiniest bit of dignity you had left. 

he hums, contemplating something, “‘m glad you called,” swooning, “i don’t know what i’d have done if you hadn’t,” positioning himself underneath your body, a strong arm coming to wrap around your shaking shoulder. 

“you would’ve just had to live without me,” chuckling into the sweaty skin of his chest, embracing the lingering arrogance. 

eddie hums before shaking his head, “nuhuh, we would’ve met again somehow,” running his finger up and down the length of your arm. 

“oh, you think?”

“no, i know,” oozing with confidence. you simply can’t hate it because he’s right. 

there’s no instance that your soul would’ve let you rest until this had happened.

[crowliphale]

ALRIGHT.... after roughly three days and one complete re-work, i think i can now proudly show off my silly sims creation...

Madrick Roslof's House

(disclaimer: i know it's shown to be a cutesie little cottage in the module but hush i have an overactive imagination)

I took some HEAVY, HEAVY inspiration from @sweet-reaper's fic What Lies Between Us (as in, it was supposed to be a recreation but i'm more than 100% sure i messed some things up) so go give it tons of love!!!

Tour below the cut!

The Outside (front & back)

I'll admit I'm not the greatest exterior decorator, but I'm still happy with how it came out! I was going for a building that wasn't constructed professionally, but rather by the people living in it. Personalized, asymmetrical, kinda like my grandparents house...

The Foyer/Livingroom

You'll notice right away that Roslof has an absolutely chaotic variety of furniture, and that's completely intentional! I wanted it to feel like this house has been lived in for decades, becoming more of a place to store all of Roslof's trinkets rather than an organized space. For sims reasons I gave him a TV, but if it were purely dnd-based that wouldn't be there lol. The dollhouse is there for Hootsie, who's a toddler in my game!

The Kitchen

Kremy's baby. He practically lives in this room. Despite it being Roslof's house and kitchen, I REALLY leaned into the fact that this is Kremy's space. It's a lot cleaner than some other parts of the house, and feels slightly more updated while keeping that awesome vintage vibe. Not a ton to say, it's probably the 2nd most accurate to my initial vision while reading reaper's fic.

The Dining Room

Not a ton to say here! I honestly didn't even intend on adding a dining room at first, but realized i had an empty room that served no purpose, so why not make it a dining room? I'm really happy with the eclectic collection of chairs, and I felt like a genius for putting one to the side after I replaced it with Hootsie's high chair

~ UPSTAIRS ~

The Guest Room (currently Kremy & Gideon's room)

The MOST accurate to my vision while reading reaper's fic, I think the only part I wish I could change is that the table in the back is meant to be a vanity table. I also would've added more clutter and the shrine to the Baron, but I kinda just don't have the space/CC for that </3 otherwise I love this room!!

Roslof's Room (formerly, now deceased)

This one's the most lackluster in my opinion, I really didn't have a clear picture of what his room looks like. It's also likely getting changed in the future as Hootsie grows up--Maybe I'll move Gideon and Kremy into here at some point... either way it isn't awful, I wouldn't mind spending my final days in here.

Guest Room 2 (Frost & Gricko & Hootsie's room)

I think this is where I strayed the most from reaper's story. Not totally sure how the arrangement is in the fic, i haven't reread it in a minute, but I know I typically make the three other guys all bunk together... but as you can see, this room is WAY too small for that. So instead it's just Frost & Gricko & Hootsie. Didn't put a ton of effort in, but that's mainly because I don't think Frost or Gricko have very many worldly possessions to their names.

~ BASEMENT ~

The Workshop (Gideon's baby)

I literally just DON'T have the CC to make this work that great, but I tried to still arrange things the same way they looked in my mind! Again not much to say, without the proper CC it kinda just became a filler room.

The Storage Closet (Torbek's room)

Poor Torbek... FJDSKFS I'm actually so sorry I put him down here partially as a joke and partially because I couldn't remember where he sleeps in the fic. and because I was pretty much entirely out of space anywhere else. Sorry big guy, I gave you a night light as consolation

~ THE GREENHOUSE ~

The Greenhouse (the greenhouse)

THE GREENHOUSE!! It's my absolute favorite part of the build it's just downright gorgeous, I tried so so hard to make it work despite not having the correct CC/DLC, and I'm super happy with how it came out!! Literally all I would add is some hanging planters from the banisters this thing is great.

and... that's the house! Hooray! Not sure how else to end a post like this, so here's the worst photo ever of how the guys look (+ toddler Hootsie)

I'll probably make another post like this but for the family's closeups/outfits/traits if I notice enough interest for it.. anyway tho hope you liked my silly sims build!! go read reaper's stuff its actually peak i'm so serious!!

[lavenderdaisychain]

Evil In Bed

note: omg I haven't posted on here in like a year, I'm trying out a new thing by doing charactrer x reader stories so feel free to leave constructive feedback! :) 2.8k word count

~your favorite regular at the diner you work at turns out to be an interesting character

CW: violence, gun violence, sexual assault, harassment, hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing but thats not that crazy, wound care, age gap (You're early 20s he's late 30s), Frank being calm until someone lays hands on his favorite waitress

Frank Castle x fem!reader

You weren’t sure when exactly the stranger who always sat at the back of the diner became a regular. Or more specifically, your regular. Being not only a collage student but a student nurse meant you worked the job that paid your rent, at night. It was a small diner in a busy part of Brooklyn but it was a surprisingly good gig, you liked your co-workers and most people that came in were regulars so easy to work with and they’d always leave you good tips.

A few months ago a guy started coming in around the beginning of your shift, and he’d stay until you left. He always wore all black, kept his baseball cap pulled down where you could only see a small glimpse of his face. He’d sit at the back of the diner, facing the door and nurse a pot of coffee the whole time. No food, just coffee. Like clockwork. After a pretty light start to your shift you noticed your regular at his normal booth. You grabbed the coffee pot from its stand, a bowl of cream and sugar and headed his way. 

“Evening stranger. Just coffee as usual?” You questioned with a warm smile, you caught his smile as he curtly nodded his head. The two of you had built a small relationship, sometimes he’d ask if he needed to rough up a weirdo after a bad shift. You’d always laugh, but he was serious and you knew it. “Well looks like it’s gonna be a boring night, got any jokes for me? Or hot gossip from wherever you come from? Something to keep me going?” 

You’d asked for his name several times but he never gave one. Which would probably seem weird if you didn’t live in New York, so you just called him Stranger. 

He quietly mulled over a few ideas in his head as he sipped his coffee. He drank his coffee black but you always brought the cream and sugar for yourself, in case you joined him. You scanned his face and noticed some new bruises and an ugly gash across his nose. 

You couldn’t see his face very clearly with his cap but you did catch his big brown eyes gazing up at you before he finally answered. “Boss is callin’ your name sweetheart.”

You cursed under your breath as you were pulled away from him. You turned on your heel in the direction of your nagging boss, a group of bikers had come in and were also beckoning you over.

“Sorry about that folks. Welcome to Casey's. I'll be your waitress. What can I get everyone to drink?” 

Each man made some form of a lewd joke about you being on the menu before giving their actual orders. You smiled through grit teeth and quickly went behind the bar.

“I’m going to murder them. Can you please please take these guys Joey?” You begged the head cook as he flipped some pancakes on the grill. 

“And you cook? Sorry sister but no. If it’s that big a deal, make Casey deal with them.”

“Casey will tell me to suck it up and flash them if it means getting good tips! Joey please! I’ll never ask for free food ever again!” That’s a lie. After another hard ‘no’ you huffed and took the group of brutes their drinks. 

“So what’s a fine piece of ass like you working in a place like this?” One of the men asked, referring to the slightly dingy diner you’d come to love. 

“Just trying to pay the bills.” You replied curtly, trying to keep your eye from twitching. “Does everyone know what they’d like to eat?” 

Before they could make another joke about you being on the menu, a sharp whistle cut through the air, you whipped your head around to see your favorite regular holding up an empty pot of coffee. 

“If you’ll excuse me I just need to step over to that gentleman’s booth for a moment, take a couple more minutes to look over the menu.” You smiled before practically bolting to the other side of the diner. “Thank god for you and your caffeine addiction,” you sighed, wiping his table down and picking up the empty pot. “Want another one?”

“Those guys bothering you?” If looks could kill every man in the booth on the opposite corner would be dead. You looked back at the men and then to your stranger with a soft smile.

“Nah, Joey may act like he hates me but if they get too mouthy he’ll kick em’ out. Promise.” You placed your soft hand on top of his rough knuckles, the murderous look on his face flickered to a softer one for just a second. “Look at my favorite regular being worried for me!” Before he had the chance to reply you were being called back over, you sighed and took a moment to fix your hair. “Duty calls! I’ll be back.”

“Don’t worry about another pot, I'll be fine!” 

You nodded as you pulled your order book back out.

“Sorry about that guys, what can I get started for ya?”

As each man gave their order they were surprisingly…nice? No lewd comments, no smart remarks, no staring directly at your boobs while you took orders, until the last man who was sitting closest to you ordered.

“Yeah I’ll take the burger all the way, with curly fries and a soda and for dessert I’ll have a piece of you!” Before you could even react his hand flew up your skirt and firmly gripped your ass, you screamed, dropping your order book. As you raised your hand to smack him, a tall shadow hovered over both of you and the man instantly let you go.

“That’s not how you treat a lady.” It was your regular. “Now apologize.” He stepped in between you and the man, his broad body covering you completely. It was then you realized just how large he was. His shoulders were broad like a man who spent his whole life working, his jacket smelled of leather and gunpowder, something you’d never noticed until he was right up against you. The men argued and in a flash the group was headed outside, your regular having the perv that grabbed you by the throat. 

“Oh my god Joey!” You yelped as a hand gently grabbed your arm. “He’s going to kill him!” You practically squealed. Joey shrugged and dragged you behind the bar.

“Wait here.” He mumbled before turning to follow after the fist fight waiting to happen. Joey was much older than you, he’d been working at Casey’s since it opened. 

He thought you were an annoying brat when you first started working. Eventually you stopped asking for free food because a plate would be waiting for you at the end of your shift, he’d become a father figure of sorts. But you two still butted heads so of course instead of doing what you were told you ran after him.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Your boss asked, stepping out of his office. You yelled something about a fight as you ran past him, he quickly followed behind. You threw the back door open to the sight of your regular dominating over the gang of bikers, most of them were on the ground but two of them had him cornered. He moved swiftly and efficiently to knock them on the ground, yelling about how their mothers should’ve raised them better. 

You covered your mouth in horror, eyes wide from shock. Joey stood to the side with a toothy grin as he recorded the massacre.

“Joey!” You shrieked, slapping his arm. All the men turned to look at you, including your regular who was now splattered with blood. The man he had beaten slowly stood with a gun in his shaky hands, and fired. Joey and Casey both pushed you to the ground, your ears rang sharply even though you’d thrown your hands over them at some point. When you finally pushed the two burly men off of you the bikers had scattered leaving your regular bleeding on the ground. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You ran to him, picking his face up gently. “Hey, I need you to talk to me. Please, please talk to me!” You slapped his face lightly before moving to lay your head on his chest, it moved up and down but his breathing was ragged. You moved to assess the damage as Joey dialed 9-1-1, the bullet hadn’t gone through all the way and seemed to be lodged in between two of his ribs. You let out a sigh of relief but yelped when he grabbed your hand. 

“No hospitals.” He spat through gritted teeth.

“Are you crazy?!” You sat back on your heels in disbelief as he began to stand, and caught him before he hit the ground again. 

“You're a nurse aren’t you? You fix me.” 

“I’m a CNA, that’s not a nurse.”

“Well I’m sure you can figure it out, I’m running out of time here sister.”

You gawked at him like he was a pure mad man before saying something you’d never catch yourself saying. “Joey tell him everyone ran off. I got this.”

Joey now wore your gawked expression. “Now I knew you were crazy but I didn’t think you were this crazy! Absolutely not!” 

“Joey. Trust me.” 

He stared at you before hanging up the phone, grabbing Casey and going back inside. Maybe he was just as crazy as you were. But deep down you knew this guy wouldn’t hurt you. 

“I only live a few blocks from here. I walk to work every day. Just stay with me and we can make it.” He nodded, screwing his eyes shut at the mere movement of walking. “You know, I could’ve handled those guys without making it a fight.” 

“No darlin,” he grunted. “Not when that asshole had a gun.” He gripped his side tightly as you hobbled through the streets of Brooklyn. You couldn’t believe you were taking this man you didn’t really know to your apartment because he’d insisted on no hospitals. Who was this guy? He grunted at every step as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

“Why do you have to live on the third floor?”

“It’s good cardio, sue me.”

You finally reached your door without leaving a bad trail of blood and as you fumbled with your keys your elderly neighbor stepped out from her door across the hall. You lightly laid your hand on your new companion's chest to let him know not to make any noise.

“Mrs. Dabney? Is everything alright?” 

“Oh darling I was just about to ask you the same thing, I could hear you struggling up the stairs and had to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh Mrs. Dabney thank you for asking, I’m perfectly fine, Joey sent me home with a big box of cooking supplies so it was a pain to bring up the stairs with the elevator not working. I’ll be there to help you with your grocery shopping tomorrow!” Your lovely neighbor wished you goodnight and went back inside, you quickly pushed your regular inside and locked the door behind you. 

“She’s blind,” You seemed to answer his question before he even had the chance to ask. “She’s blind but I have a feeling she knew you were there..I’ll come up with an excuse later.”

He stood in your studio apartment awkwardly, not wanting to sit and get blood on your couch but also losing blood at an alarmingly fast rate and trying to not fall over. You quickly grabbed your medical kit and helped him to the bathroom. 

“Shirt off.” You demanded, setting him on the seat of your toilet. 

“Hey now sweetheart, at least buy me dinner first!” He partially laughed and partially grunted at the pain that shot through his chest. Except you didn't laugh like you normally would, you shot him a look that had his shirt hitting your bathroom tiles in an instant despite how much it hurt.                                                                     You stopped for a moment to really take in the sight before you. His cap was off and his hair fell just above his eyes, but the sides were shaved, his face was perfectly chiseled like it had been handcrafted.

 His nose had clearly been broken multiple times but for you it just added to his charm. Your eyes trailed down to his equally sculpted chest, he wore a pair of dog tags with a gold band threaded in them. He was a soldier, which made so much more sense. His abs rippled with every tense breath, his right side was drenched in the blood that seemed to be oozing from his 8th rib, in that  moment you remember why you were here. He’d been shot and he wanted you to fix him.

“Don’t care if you drool over me as long as you get the job done darlin,” He grunted, snapping you from your daze. You ran back to the kitchen and returned to him with a bottle of whiskey.

“Drink.” You raised the bottle to his lips and he gratefully took it from you. You pulled your hair back tight and sighed as your work uniform would be totally trashed. After washing your hands and sanitizing your tools you got to work kneeling between his legs and resting your arms on his upper thighs. “I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty nasty, I’ll do my best.”

He said nothing as you worked to clean the wound, you silently prayed that the bullet was lodged in his rib and not somewhere worse. Either way this wasn’t going to be fun for either party involved. You tried your best to feel for the bullet, but you didn't have the right angle with him sitting upright.

“Hey- wait what is your name anyways? I've been trying to get it out of you for ages but you’re always so mysterious at the diner.”

“Frank,” he grunted, taking another swig of whiskey, “Castle.”

“Well Frankie, I’m gonna need you to slide your hips forward I need a better angle.” He nodded and slipped his hips closer to you until you were practically face to face with his hip bones. You had to drown out the hisses and groans that he let out as you carefully sliced his skin and removed the fragmented bullet and the pieces it left behind. Despite the situation you were in, it was hard to work with him being so close to you. He was so caring, and so fucking hot. It was going to be hard to keep him out of your bed.  You finished suturing the cut you had to make and sat back on your heels wiping your brow. 

“Need anything else patched up while I'm sitting here?” You looked at the gash in his nose and lip and then to the cuts on his knuckles. 

“Nah I don’t think it’s anything major, but you could always kiss it to make it better?” You shot up to look in his eyes, and at the big shit eating grin on his face. Was this his plan the whole time? You couldn’t help but giggle as you took his hand and slowly peppered kisses on his knuckles, before slowly moving up to his rib, he hissed at the contact but didn’t pull away. You perched yourself on his lap and peppered kisses, intertwining ‘thank you’s’ between the kisses. You helped clean him off and wrapped his hand and nose before bringing him to your room.

“I have some of my brother’s old clothes, the shirt might fit.” You helped pull it over his head, pulled his boots off and helped him lay in your bed. He laid down but was tense as you changed out of your bloody work uniform.

“I’m so sorry,” 

“For what?” You asked, crawling into the bed.

“For dragging you into this whole...mess.” He sighed, dragging his bandaged hand over his face. You sat in front of him frowning. 

“I may not know you Frank, but if I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here. I don’t know your situation but get some sleep, let your wound heal up for the night at least.” You caressed his face, he leaned into your touch and you sat with him until he fell asleep. After a few hours you got a text from Joey, the headline read:

The punisher of New York attacks a biker gang in a small Brooklyn diner - ‘This your guy? Nice.’

You turned your head to face the man whose face was nuzzled in the cook of your neck, how could someone the world saw to be evil be curled up in your bed? That would be a question for another day, for now he was all yours.

note: AHHH this was so fun to write I have a couple more im working on as valentines day approaches so stay tuned! I hope yall enjoy! Muah ;)

@ebodebo @fun-k-boards @jjenthusee @sceletaflores @starsofang

[themultifanshipper]

hi! so i can’t stop thinking about this utter filth and i feel like you’re the only f1 blog that would understand the vision here. it’s gonna be a long one so buckle up 🫣🤭

ok so reader and liam are teammates and they absolutely HATE each other. like legitimately there’s no secret friendly feelings just pure hate and lust. and max is readers bf, and when it’s announced liam gets the seat at RB, max decides to give reader to him as a reward but also as a punishment to reader for not getting the seat at RB. and the whole thing is very dubcon/cnc cos max doesn’t really consult with you he just tells you about it like there’s no choice to be made. liam shows up and max just tells you to behave and do whatever liam wants before leaving you alone with liam. and the whole time liam is super mean and does everything he can to humiliate you and he really plays up the fact that he’s in total control (*cough* facefucking *cough* who said that??). there’s no limits so whatever kinky shit you wanna add in there go crazy. he’s a real freak. anyway at some point he ends up fucking your ass and he finds out you’ve never done anal before so it gets his ego going knowing he’s the only guy who’s fucked you like that. 🥵 blah blah blah proper name place name… he ends up making you cry and putting you in subspace and when he leaves max comes back in and gives you all the aftercare and praise

anyway you don’t have to write anything with this i just felt like I needed to drag someone down to hell with me over this🫡

-🦴 anon

New anon alert!

Mate I'm gonna need 5 to 10 business days to recover from this...

Liam pinching your nose while he's fucking your throat so you can't breathe...

Liam grabbing your head and forcing you to keep your eyes open and watch while he splits your cunt open, in front the mirror in yours and Max's shared bedroom

Liam constantly bringing up the fact that you weren't good enough to get the the seat every time you're about to come, to pavlov you into getting pleasure from being degraded

He's so mean with it too, "You're not good enough, you shouldn't even deserve to come, but you're gonna do it anyway because you're such a whore" and you sob your way through another orgasm because he's right

And yeah at one point he's got you on your stomach, hips propped up while he pounds into you, making sure to slap your ass hard every time you dare sound like your getting any pleasure

Then he can't stop staring at your other hole twitching under him, and he spits on it, and uses it to push his thumb into you

It send a shock through you and you come on the spot, almost screaming with how overwhelming the pleasure is

"You like that, huh? I wonder if my cock fits in here. Does Max get to fuck your greedy little hole when you've been good?"

And the answer is no. You tell him you've never done that and he immediately hikes your hips up further.

"I'll be your first time, that's cute"

He gets a couple of fingers in you before he decides he won't do too much damage and slides his cock, still dripping from your countless orgasms, inside your tight ass

You feel so full and so empty at the same time, Liam is not small, but it feels wrong that your cunt is being neglected

He pulls you up against his chest wrapping one hand around your throat, the other going to slap your pussy

"Fucking pathetic. Couldn't get the seat, and now your own boyfriend doesn't think you're good enough to fuck so he's leaving me to do the dirty work"

You cry and sob and writhe in his grasp but it's no use, he holds you there and forces you to take it

When he feels you getting tighter he knows you're about to come, so he hooks two fingers inside you, aiming for your g-spot and uses his palm to rub against your clit

You've never squirted before either, but there you are, juices pooling and dripping down your thighs

He removes his hand but even with his cock still pounding into you you just. Won't. Stop. Squirting.

You are intirely out of it, so lost in pleasure that your eyes are rolled back and you don't even have the energy left to make any sounds

So he keeps on chasing his own release, pressing your back down into the pillows with a hand between your shoulder blades

He doesn't come in your ass though, he decides to pull out and come over your quivering holes, half of it landing on your ass, and then dripping down your thighs and across your puffy cunt.

He leaves you in that exact position for Max to find

Your boyfriend cleans you up diligently, waiting for you to come back to him.

"You were perfect, schat. So perfect."

Kisses and cuddles galore, until you're giggling tiredly in his arms

"You'd better work tirelessly this season to get that seat. I'd hate to have to do this again with whoever beats you for it next year"

[lycheeloving]

Second chapter!! Happy Valentine's day <3

Bruce finds you at work and doesn't leave you alone.

< first chapter

The next day at work, it all feels like a fever dream. Did you really meet Bruce Wayne? And talk to him all night? You feel a bit nauseous just thinking about it, but you just remind yourself that you'll never see him again. Even if you did get along really well...

Whatever, you'll just daydream about kissing him in the moonlight, that's just as fun as the real thing, right? Not that you could compare it to the real thing,  you'd have to kiss someone at some point to know what it's like.

Maybe you should have kissed Bruce yesterday, he certainly seemed like he would have been ok with that, but that was probably just wishful thinking anyways. Oh well, too late now.

The bell that lets you know somebody entered the store rings and rips you out of your thoughts. Fuck. You hate when there's costumers, which is why you chose to work at the shittiest bookstore in Gotham. And are hiding in the back.

You're supposed to say something like "I'll be right with you!", but you're not going to do that. You hate talking loudly. Especially to strangers, especially when you can't even see them. But you never even say anything when you're out in the front and making direct eye contact with them, so whatever. You just hope they won't ask you for help with finding anything, just having to ring them up is bad enough...

Why do you have to get costumers at all? Fuck, you should really look for a job with less contact to people, but this is the best you've been able to find so far.

You reluctantly leave the safety of the back room, only to find a guy in an oversized hoodie and sunglasses absolutely beaming at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Should you know him?

Only when he takes the sunglasses off do you realize that it's Bruce. No way, how did he find you? You feel your palms getting sweaty.

"Finally! I found you! Do you know how hard it was to find this book store with the minimal description you gave me?" 

Not hard enough, apparently, considering that he was able to find you this soon. It hasn't even been a full day!

He's still smiling at you. "I've been to multiple book stores this morning! I'm so glad you told me you'd be working today, or I would have had to ask everyone if you're one of their coworkers!"

"Yeah, well, if I had wanted you to show up here, I would have given you more details, probably." You deadpan, hoping your voice isn't shaking.

He's not deterred, he just keeps talking as if you hadn't said anything: "Wanna get lunch with me? When's your break? We could go to that café around the corner that I saw on my way here!"

Is he not getting that you don't want him here? Well, you do want him here, but you don't. You want him to think you don't want him here so he'll leave before you can embarrass yourself.

"I can't leave for my break, I have to stay here. I'm the only one working right now, I can't just- just lock up and get something to eat." Your boss actually allowed you to do just that, but when you came back from doing it the first time, an angry costumer was waiting for you and yelled at you for 10 minutes about how it's rude to just close the store in the middle of the day. You don't want a repeat of that, so you started eating your lunch at work whenever there were no costumers. Which is almost always, luckily.

"I could go get you something and we can eat here! It doesn't seem like you get a lot of costumers so we won't even be disturbing anyone!" Why is he so persistent? Can't he go talk to some supermodel or something?

"I'm not hungry." You kind of are, actually.

"That's fine, we can just talk! I just wanted to spend some time with you. You know, I haven't clicked with anyone like this in a long time, I couldn't just let you go."

Wait, is he serious? Well, why else would he go through the effort of looking for you... But still, you can't quite believe it. Are you being pranked?

"You should go. What if costumers start showing up? I'm sure you don't want some weird fan to recognize you."

Bruce ignores what you say and stays. He talks to you for about half an hour, well, mostly he talks at you, until he has to leave because his lunch break is over. You just stand there, perplexed. Does he really want to hang out with you?

He returns the next day. And the next. And the next. Every day, always during his lunch break. It takes a few times until you stop trying to ignore him, a few more times until you start actually talking to him, and a few more times until you agree to eat lunch with him. Not go anywhere else, just eat your own lunch at the bookstore.

You can't stop yourself from trying to push him away a little bit, though.

You put down your fork. "You know, it's rude of you to keep visiting me at work, where I can't just leave. This is basically harassment."

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Just say so, and I'll never show up here again, I promise."

You don't want him to leave. Well, you do, because you don't want to get even more attached, but you don't, because, well, you're getting attached. You can't bring yourself to make him leave.

You huff and roll your eyes. "Whatever." You pick your fork back up and continue eating.

He tries to suppress a smile. Gross. He's so cute.

Whenever he catches you playing a silly game on your phone (which is basically every time he enters the store, as you love slacking off), he insists on befriending you on it if possible, so when you're not hanging out he'll send you a booster on your candy-crush-esque game, or play against you on a quiz app.

Sometimes he uses the chat option there to tell you to go to sleep when it's late and he catches you playing, even though he's obviously awake as well! Hypocrite. It makes you smile every time. 

One day while you're eating lunch together, a few months after he first showed up, he puts down his fork and says: "I think I need to make this more clear. I am interested in you romantically. I want to date you."

You almost spit out your lunch, but manage to swallow it without choking. "H- Wh- Huh? What?"

"We can just be friends, I'd love to be friends, we already are friends, in my opinion, but I would also love to date you. So if one day you decide that you want to date me, please let me know."

You already want to, but you will absolutely not be informing him of that, thanks. Asking for what you want? What are you, a well adjusted person? You blink owlishly at him instead of saying anything. That should suffice as a response, right? No, you should probably say something.

"...Look, even if I was interested in dating you—", which, again, you literally are, but why would you tell him that;

"—you're famous, and at some point it would come out that I was dating you, and the paparazzi would publish one single picture of me and I'd immediately panic so hard I would pass out and die. This—" You point your fork between the two of you. "—is already risky enough. Whatever this is, anyway."

Bruce, as always, chooses not to address the parts of what you were saying that were clearly your anxiety speaking and simply grins.

"So you do want to date me? It sounds to me like you're just looking for excuses. Don't worry, if I don't want anyone to know about you, noone will! People don't tend to recognize me when I'm not wearing a suit, especially in environments where they're not expecting me, so anywhere outside of my workplace and fancy parties. It's worked so far, hasn't it? Not a single person has recognized me here! Dating won't change that. So, if you do want to go on a date with me, just say the word. Please."

What word? Wait, he means that metaphorically, right? No, but seriously, what would you say, how would you say that without sounding totally weird?

"That's not what I was saying. At all. Stop misinterpreting me." You roll your eyes at him. He changes the topic, but he keeps smiling until he has to leave.

Lying awake that night, you think about what he said. Does he actually like you? Or is he just pretending, because he likes a challenge? Knew you'd be difficult to get close to, and he gets a kick from being someone's first relationship, kiss, everything, and then leaving them? You feel nauseous and you suddenly feel cold. How are you supposed to figure this out? You try to tell yourself that it's only your anxiety speaking, that Bruce is actually a nice person and wouldn't do that, but you can't quite convince yourself.

The next day, your way home after work (and after pretending your conversation with Bruce yesterday didn't happen, which luckily he played along with), you see something on the ground that reflects the light in a way that catches your eye.

What is that? It's kind of hidden behind a trash can.

You take a step closer, hoping it's not some kind of trap, but you can't think of a villain who would hide shiny things on the floor to kill civilians. At least not in that color, the Joker would make it colorful, and this object appears to be... black?

Oh, it's a Batarang! You've never seen one up close, but they can't be super rare with how often people online post about having found one, there's even one guy who collects them and has an entire wall plastered with them. Allegedly. People online are saying that most of them are probably replicas, but you can't tell, as you've never seen a real one. Until now.

That makes you think, just how many Batarangs does Batman have? More than enough if he let's random people keep them. You think about picking it up and taking it with you. It would be really cool to have a Batarang...

You reach out towards it, but stop right before you touch it. Is it stuck in the floor? Fuck, just how sharp are those things...?

Maybe you should leave it here, you'd just cut your hand open on it, trying to get it unstuck.

Plus, maybe Batman will find this one if you leave it here, and then re-use it! Reduce, re-use, recycle, Batman!

You leave it where you found it, after taking a few pictures of it as proof.

The next day, Bruce asks you if you did anything interesting yesterday, like he does every time he sees you. Usually you'd say no, but you did find that Batarang... Would Bruce care about that?

While you're contemplating, Bruce says: "You'd have said no by now if nothing had happened! Come on, please tell me?"

Fine! Whatever! You'll tell him, even if he'll probably think it's boring.

"Ok, so, on my way home yesterday... I found a Batarang. And, um, it got me thinking, well, first of all, how many of those does that guy have? If he's just leaving them lying around like that, right? Oh, and, it was so sharp, it was stuck in the floor, though I guess maybe that just means Batman is really strong? Either way, I thought he doesn't kill, right, but considering what he's working with it's a miracle no criminal has ended up dead yet, right?" You stop rambling, realizing that Bruce hasn't said anything yet. At least he appears to be amused.

"You have a lot of thoughts about Batman, huh?" He grins. "Yeah, he must have tons of those things, I've seen the posts. Did you take it with you?" He didn't respond to your killing thoughts... Oh well, you did give him a lot of information all at once.

"No, I didn't... But I thought about it! I mean, it seems like that's what everyone else is doing, but with it being stuck in the floor like that I was worried I would cut my hand open trying to get it unstuck! And with my luck there would have been germs or poison on it and my wound would have gotten infected, like, immediately, and I would have died. So I left it there for Batman to hopefully find again. I mean, he should probably be reusing the ones he already has, right? Reduce, reuse, recycle, I'm just helping Batman be more climate friendly!" There you go, rambling again.

Bruce seems almost too amused at all of this.

"Well, do you want it? I can come with you when your shift is over and help you get it unstuck, if you want. If nobody else has already taken it. I'm sure Batman won't mind. And if it ever comes out that he's not trying his best to be climate friendly, I'll personally go kick his ass, I promise."

"Uh. Um. You don't have to do that!"

"...Kick his ass or go get the batarang for you?"

"I meant getting the batarang, but also please don't fight Batman. He'd wipe the floor with you. No offense."

"Well, first of all, I think I'm just as strong as Batman-" You roll your eyes at him. Dork.

"And second of all, I don't have to get it for you, but I want to. Please let me?"

Ok. Fuck. Whatever. This is the first time you'll be seeing him outside of work, excluding your first meeting.

"Uh. Ok? I, um, my shift ends at 8."

"I'll pick you up in front of the store, then. It's a date!"

"Uh! No, well, yes, but, it- um-"

"I'm just teasing you." He winks at you. Winks! Is he trying to kill you? You turn your face towards your food so you don't have to look at him. Asshole. Stop being so hot.

Later, at 8, he's already waiting for you in front of the store while you're locking up.

"Ready to go?" He smiles.

"Uh, yeah! Sure!"

You start leading the way to where you found the batarang, talking about whatever comes to mind on the way.

Finally, about halfway on your way home, you reach the place where the batarang should be. You hope it's still there, but somebody else could have taken it. You push the trashcan it was behind to the side, and...

There it is!

"Look, it's still here!" You turn around to Bruce, smiling. He smiles back. You fight the urge to giggle or hide your face behind your hands, he needs to stop being so cute.

"Didn't you say it's stuck in the ground? Why wouldn't it be here anymore?"

"Uh, you said you'd help me get it out? Somebody else could have done the same thing!"

"Right. But they don't have my getting batarangs unstuck from the ground skills."

You roll your eyes. How often could Bruce have come in contact with a batarang? His only advantage compared to you is that he's stronger and not afraid of cutting his hand open. At least that's what you think.

You watch as he grabs the batarang and gets it unstuck in seconds. Seriously? It was that easy?

"Woah. I think I would have been able to do that myself, that looked super easy. Sorry to have made you come all this way..." Apparently it wasn't stuck in there as much as you thought? Even if a considerable part of it disappeared beneath the ground. Hm. Weird. Maybe there was a batarang shaped hole there before it landed there? Or Bruce is just a lot stronger than he looks.

"No, I'm glad I came along! I wouldn't have wanted you to cut yourself accidentally." He wraps the batarang in a piece of fabric. Some kind of rich people tissue, maybe.

"Let me carry it home for you?" He looks at you in a way that makes you melt a little bit. Ok, fine.

"Oh, uh, sure!" You did enjoy walking around with him. And not just because walking with someone in Gotham is safer than doing it alone.

"Also we could maybe order dinner? And eat together at your place?" And let him into your apartment that's not cleaned up? That looks shitty even when it is cleaned up?

"Don't push it."

"Or we could go somewhere? I'll pay, of course."

And absolutely embarrass yourself and make him never want to see you again and talk about you to journalists that you're a horrible person, which gets published in every newspaper ever so you have to move and change your name? Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic.

Bruce can clearly see the anxiety on your face.

"It doesn't have to be a date, if you don't want that."

Be brave! Be brave! You can do this!

"Uh." You almost choke on your words. "And... if I do... want that...?"

You might actually pass out, this is horrible. If he doesn't respond in less than a second, your flight response is going to win and you'll run away. And quit your job, so he can't find you again.

"That would be wonderful! We can take it slow, ok? Absolutely no pressure to do anything you don't want to do whatsoever, I promise."

You nod, not feeling brave enough to say anything. Maybe those were your last words ever.

"So... Dinner at your place? As a date?"

You nod again. Shit, fuck. Are you actually going to date Bruce Wayne? What were you thinking? Wait, does going on one date even mean you're 'dating' him? What's the definition here?

You start walking again, leading Bruce to where you live. If he hates your apartment and leaves and you never see him again that's fine and you'll be able to handle it, right? But that won't happen, so calm down. But if it did happen, you'll be fine and ok and fine. It's fine! Oh fuck, what if you misunderstood him? Did he even mean dinner tonight? Are you embarrassing yourself by assuming he'll come with you right now?

Bruce walks right beside you and starts talking again.

"I'll order. What do you want?" While saying this, he puts an arm around your shoulder. You tense. Woah.

"You said you'd take it slow!" Look at that, you can talk again.

"Too much?" Yes. But also no. But yes. But no.

"I don't know! Maybe?" He takes his arm away and you can breathe again, but somehow at the same time you miss his warmth.

"Don't worry, I'll take it so slow. The slowest. You won't regret dating me, I promise. This'll be so much fun, you'll see." He smiles.

You don't know about that, but you do know that at the very least it'll be interesting. You hope he won't notice you looking up what the definition of dating is on your phone while he's ordering food later.

[jd-loves-fiction]

Hi!

could you write something about karasu? as we know he sees himself as mediocre so could u do like him feeling somewhat insecure and reader comforting him like established relationship.

feel free to ignore!

Thanks💗

🌑Thank youuuu so much for requesting my man Karasu 😭i wanted to write him so bad but i had no ideas for so long :( Also there are no Blue lock requests in my inbox where are you guys 🥺

[09:45] There are moments in Tabito’s life where his way of thinking catches up to him. What he once thought of as a sly way to brush off his insecurities comes back to bite him and drag him down to a pit of horrendous self-doubt, an awful, gloomy cloud forming over his head and refusing to leave.

Mediocre. That's all he is – he reasons with himself – all he’ll ever be. And normally that’d be fine, just not today.

“Good morning, baby.” You greet him fondly as you step into the kitchen where he stands motionless, unaware of the storm brewing inside him. You wrap your arms around his middle and happily nuzzle against his strong back.

“Mornin’,” He answers half-heartedly, placing a light hand over yours, mind still miles away. Why do you like him? Do you even like him? Why do you tolerate him when you can do so much better? He’s just mediocre and you’re so much more than that.

The awful little monster at the back of his mind keeps whispering ugly truth to him as his frown deepens. Now you know something isn't right.

“Tabito?” His hand flinches over yours, your gentle voice cutting through the fog of his insecurities for a moment, “Are you alright?”

He shakes his head before sighing, fingers running across your skin in a self-soothing motion as he thinks, “Just… feeling a little strange.”

“Strange? Are you sick? Was it the yakisoba? I knew I should’ve added les–” He cuts you off, taking your hands and turning around to face you with an oddly serious expression.

He struggles with himself for a moment, looking for the words and finding none that fit, “I’m just… Have ya ever thought there was something I could do better?” In his mind it's perfectly subtle, prying while hiding the worst of his insecurities. It’s perfect, for anyone but you, of course.

You can't help making a face, before the realization hits you. You know him too well to not get it, “Tabito…”

“Ya know what? Forget I said anythin’” He tries to appear relaxed and suddenly uninterested, attempting to step around to go sulk somewhere alone. You don't let him – gripping the fabric of hoodie and pulling him close before he can escape.

“‘m serious, baby. It's fine.”

“It’s not fine! If you’re feeling some type of you just tell me and I'll do what I can to help you. Because I love you and I want to help you but… I can't if you hide it from me.” He flushes a lovely red under your attention, squirming slightly under your grip. Clearly the direct approach isn't working. Time to change tactics.

With a long-suffering sign, you move your hands to both his cheeks, holding them so they get smushed, “Is my big, strong, clever, funny, kind boyfriend feeling insecure?” you coo, hoping a jokey tone will help get him to open up.

Tabito clicks his tongue while looking off to the side, before nodding faintly. “Ah, I see. Well, let me tell you this,” you bring him close to your face, so close you can feel his breath on the tip of your nose, looking deeply into his eyes with all the honesty in your bones, “I love you and I think you’re incredible. Beyond that even. I know that this is something that you have to believe in yourself but hopefully my words mean something to you because they are absolutely true and absolutely correct.”

He scoffs at that, cheeks warm beneath your hands and darker than they had been as he thinks over what you’ve said so effortlessly. You’ve never once thought of him as somehow inferior and he thinks you can do no wrong so, is it so hard to believe that he is that much more than mediocre?

You kiss him square on the lips to seal the deal, “You have to say ‘I love you’ back though.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[vitalphenomena]

YVONNE SMILES THE MOST CONVINCING FAKE SMILE ROMAN SIONIS HAS EVER SEEN. Just as genuine (seeming): "For sure, it'll continue. And if you want me to be a good influence on the rest of the team, I'll try my best."

Yvonne hears stories and rumors, sees obituaries or missing posters on social media. Girls she got drinks with after shifts just stopped showing up to work. These things are a fact of life in Gotham. Surviving is all about learning to keep your mouth shut and only taking your next step forward if you're completely positive where you're foot's gonna fall. Yvonne isn't about to become an advocate for all the murdered young women in the city; she has a hard enough time standing up for just herself as is.

Yvonne nods, then shrugs. She focuses on finding a bag of whatever the DC Universe's version of Purina is. As far as she knows, that's the best of the best (unsponsored opinion).

"Maybe it's all a big prank. Maybe they want the little guys to feel like they're just like us. Can I get a little tower? The smallest one. My apartment isn't that big anyways."

· 𓂃 ࣪˖🔪 ˖ ࣪𓂂 . She seemed to be enjoying herself at least and there's the faintest smile at the end of lips with it. "Of course. I appreciate you on the job. You're one of the few that seem to understand when to show discretion, and I'm trusting that to continue. Perhaps you can get more of the girls on board. It's a shame whenever we have to drop one of them." And by drop he means kill of course. He's not sure if she was aware of that much though, probably didn't care to either. Which is why he liked her.

"Get the little thing the best of course." He doesn't just mean when it came to the food either. But he's staring at some of the treats here, "Why do some of these look like actual sweets?"

[deoidesign]

I'm caught now, what's the comic about? I'm guessing demons from your tags but I want to know more (without spoiling anything)

I'm so glad you asked.

I wanna say so much but I don't want to spoil anything... I'll do my best.

It's about demons, yes... But also mermaids, curses, murder, and love... The sweetest mermaid in the world gets magically stuck with an asshole demon warlord.

Thrust into a world of crime, murder, lies, and secrets, Luciel is completely out of their depth... And cursed to live in the ocean for the rest of his life, Zagan is a fish out of water.

Zagan is trying to solve the mystery of his own murder, while also navigating trying to cure his new curse AND gathering souls so he doesn't get sent back to hell. While Luciel is happy to tag along, Zagan is new to cooperation and is forced to adapt... And Luciel soon discovers there might have been a BIT more danger than they signed up for.

It follows the two of them as they solve a mystery, uncover new secrets, and navigate the dangers of the world while also discovering its many wonders!

And also maybe falling in love...

This is sort of the vibe... I haven't finished any episodes yet. These aren't canon scenes. I keep drawing just a couple panels or small strips of scenes that MIGHT happen cause I'm so excited it's not even funny I want to make it so bad

I can't stop drawing them it's a problem. I have work I have to do...

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

men are so disappointing in so many ways i know i shouldn't expect most of them to be dignified humans but it's crazy. i need to get over this guy he's making my sense of self crumble even faster than it usually does. like he's just so unlike my usual type and i'm pretty convinced he's stupid and slutty and not discerning whatsoever. not to mention boring like i know even if i did have a chance with him he wouldn't Get Me at all so it's a bigger waste of time that usual and i'm actually pretty tired of men in general and definitely tired of parasocial relationships because they drive me insane for months typically. thankfully it's only been like 2 weeks if that at this point. idk. sigh. i know literally virtually nothing abt him as a person and ofc liking any public figure who you know nothing about is only setting yourself for heartbreak and disappointment to begin with bc you already know nothing is gonna come from it but. in a way it's almost addictive to become obsessed with someone and not be looked at with the same level of scrutiny. i don't think anyone in real life would ever try to get to know me as much as i try to get to know people who i'll never even meet. lmao! but that's the thing... idk... i have a lot of love in my heart and it consumes me and i reject my pride usually when i'm into someone. i want to know more... like VORACIOUSLY consuming anything with information about them involved simply because i think knowing someone is a very deep form of love but of course you can never truly know anyone. not completely. and that scares me i think which is why it's always probably been easier for me to never really TRY to be with anyone or have anything real. idk. this turned into me psychoanalyzing myself real quick but SOMEONE needs to bc i need to understand what the fuck is wrong w me.

[pensivespacepirate]

it feels like the whole purpose of venom 3 is to kill off venom what the fuck

[a-murmur-of-a-prayer]

Not a Sam girl, but I do appreciate him quite a bit and I fear my arc for him in this WIP is eating

[probayern]

i miss germany, i miss the euros, i miss june

[sciderman]

we need to see more non dp spidey pairings

just read the comics man! they're everywhere!

(also, please, be the change you want to see in the world, anon.)

[silverselfshippingchaos]

man.. shipping with characters from movies is so hard..

[princesable]

ok poll time

^ guy you will be forced to put up with either way