#PLEASE I WORKED SO HARD ON TS

[pastelpousay]

HIHI AGAIN YALL HAPPY SUPER SKIBIDI PRIDE MONTH TO EVERYONE STAY SIGMA 🐺🏳️‍🌈

They’re such a bisexual couple it’s not even funny- btw I hc Hades as bi so uhhh yea

(I don’t think he uses the label that often but he def likes men here and there 💀)

[moldy-avocado]

i dont w a n t to get sick again but going thru my old posts n tryna clean all the disordered stuff up and shit making me nostalgic. ive been getting better for over a year now, im getting top surgery soon. i cant get sick rn literally wait till like january when im post op god oh please please god help me

[oldtestleper]

um. why am i so sad. why am i so tired. i had a real good torta and an alright day at work like buck up pal

[mariahcarreyyy]

i cannot stop thinking of the fact that lando would raise and push your legs back after he cums in you, holding them there because 'it'll make u pregnant quicker' 🥴

yes im on a breeding kink brainrot

- @planete777 💓

im ovulating DONT SO THIS TO ME (also ts extremely unedited) nsfw 18+ work under beware⬇️⬇️

the rough snap of lando's hips meeting yours was genuinely obscene. your boyfriend had been thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow, his forearms planted on both sides of your head and steadying him as he fucks you. your hands gripped the hairs at the nape of his neck tightly, and it seems to only urges lando more when he balances himself on one arm, bends his knee beside you, and rubs soft circles on your swollen clit.

"ah-- fuck, y/n, i-im so close," lan whines hotly into your ear, your sounds from his hand on your dripping pussy barely allowing you to hear him. "c-can i cum inside y', please, please, baby, wanna get you all full f'me."

so you let him, because of course you do. he softly tweaks at your clit with his index and thumb after a particularly hard thrust, and your back arches so fucking far-- or as far as you could with lando's weight on top of you--, high and uncontrollable moans slipping past your mouth. lan lets out a guttural groan when your pussy squeezes around his cock needily, desperately trying to milk him dry. and lando. well lando can't help but immediately spill into you. thick ropes of his cum coat your slightly overstimulated pussy, and you'd whined at the feeling of its warmth making impossibley fuller.

lando would leave a wet kiss at your jaw before sitting up right on his calves and slipping out of you, both of you groaning in unison at the loss. and like. when lando pressed your legs up to your stomach, you'd thought your fucked-out mind was making shit up.

"lan?" you say for a lack of better words. a hum leaves his pretty mouth. his hands are still manhandling your legs into the position he wants. you muster up a somewhat coherent string of words when you ask, "why are you..?" "its better, for, um," he stutters, carefully selecting his next words. "to get pregnant, or something." "or something?" you tease, a stupid grin blooming on your face before you tug him down to your lips with the hand on his neck.

his torso crushed your legs together almost painfully, but the soft meeting of your lips quickly overshadow the feeling.

[luv4berry]

earth 42 miles × reader at a dinner with the readers parents + mama rio and uncle Arron?

also when i tell u im in love with your work! that shi has me kicking my feet😭🤦🏾‍♀️

control yourself.

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you go out to dinner with your parents, mama rio, uncle aaron and your beloved boyfriend, yet he can’t seem to control himself even in the presence of your parents.

GENRE: fluff <3

WARNINGS: kissing, parents being parents, loverboy miles, clingy miles, suggestive jokes, make outs in the bonus scene.

AUTHORS NOTE: ngl i struggled to write ts like shit, anyways thank you for your request and im deadass cheesing so hard rn thank you for reading!! (p.s, if you left anything in my inbox i HAVE seen it and i will get to it eventually!) hope you like it!

you zero in on miles’ eyes as they dart between your own eyes and your phone. you give him a suspecting look from the other side of the table before bringing your phone out under the table seeing as he’s already filled your notification dashboard.

miles 💓

bathroom? 👀

baby pleaseee

you did ts on purpose

holy shit you’re so fine

yk the sundress is lethal baby please 😩

you glance up giving him a stern look, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’ as your eyes flicker towards your parents as well as rio at the front counter of the restaurant. to the right of miles is uncle aaron, his eyes set on his phone as he took occasional glances at the two of you.

you make direct eye contact with miles for just a moment before letting out a sigh of defeat, nodding towards the family bathroom to your left. you don’t miss the hint of a smirk plaguing his lips, rolling your eyes playfully at his smugness.

to avoid raising suspicion, you stagger your way towards the family bathroom first—adjusting your slate colored maxi dress in the process. he watches as you disappear into the bathroom, brown eyes scanning the premises before he also gets up to dismiss himself.

“don’t think ion see you, player.” uncle aaron mumbles, grinning at his nephew.

“honestly don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout.”

yeah, they were definitely related.

you soon feel a pair of hands curve around your waist and whisk you around, your lips immediately beginning to twitch upwards. “your moms gonna kill you.” you say as he sways you side to side, his hands resting on your waist.

“us. she’s gonna kill us you mean.”

“the hell did i do? you’re the bad influence here.”

“you been giving me all sorts of eyes ever since we got here, don’t do that.”

“or maybe, just maybe you’re deluded and nasty.”

“mhm.” he hums, his hands slipping below your waistline.

“hands goin’ a little low there bud.”

“oh im bud now? thought i was your husband?” he nuzzles his nose into your neck, recalling you calling him that earlier in the day.

“my what? who said i was gonna marry you?” you tease him.

“stop playin’ with me.” he kisses his teeth at you, his chin going to rest on your shoulder as he continues to sway you side to side. after about 2 minutes of silence, his lips begin to inch towards the skin behind your ear, placing a singular kiss to test the waters. when you don’t react, he goes in for another one. when he’s met with silence yet again he goes in for a third—but before they make contact with your skin you place your palm over his lips.

“miles, no.” you give him a forbidding look, “you forgetting where you at?” you shake your head, the clinginess of this boy was unmatched.

“keep kissing up on me like my parents won’t hang me and then you.” you side eye him, unlocking the bathroom door checking the coast.

“why you keep running from me? you scared or something?” he questions you as he crosses his arms over your abdomen, pulling you back into the bathroom with him. he softly pecks your cheek a few times before he begins to kiss up the nape of your neck, your body noticeably relaxing in his arms. when you feel your senses begin to cloud with a familiar feeling, you catch on to his underlying motive.

“morales, you trying to seduce me?”

“‘course not,” he pauses for a moment, “is it working?”

“no comment.”

he smirks against your skin as your eyes close for a moment, allowing yourself to relish in the moment for some time. you also allow his fingertips to dance along your sides for a bit before you snap back to reality. you bring your hands to your abdomen, clasping them with his and turning around to face him. he gives you an unsatisfied look, aware that his time with you is up and you’d have to return.

“i’ll go first, come back like 5 minutes after me.” you cup his cheek, placing a short but meaningful kiss to his lips. you smooth out the wrinkles of your dress, peaking out the door before waltzing down the hall.

when you arrive at the table, you get a knowing looking from your parents, shaking their heads at the antics of teenagers. before you sit down you go over to rio, flashing her your best smile as she gives you a loving kiss on the cheek. you also give uncle aaron a proper greeting, giving him a side hug. soon enough you sit down quietly as the table makes small talk, occasionally checking for miles around the corner.

you zone out for a bit before you’re nudged in the side, your mom leaning into your ear, “you can tell your lil boyfriend he can come back now, we’re not stupid. i was a teenage girl too you know.”

you noticeably jerk in your seat at your mothers comment, diverting your attention to the empty space beside you where miles was supposed to be.

this type of response wasn’t exactly strange when it pertained to miles, out of all your boyfriends he was definitely your parents favorite. before miles, you’d never had a boyfriend come over unannounced just to talk to your father about whatever basketball game had occurred hours before. nor had you seen your mother continuously pester you to invite her “son in-law” over again.

unbeknownst to you, they both recognized that same spark from when they were teenagers growing up in brooklyn, climbing into each others windows at absurd hours of the night just to see each other, or cruising home together after school hand in hand while listening to 90s r&b. they were beyond joyful you had each other to stay on the right path, to not fold into the cruelty of the streets. it was no different with miles side of the family. rio knew that her son had been through a lot, from the death of his dad, to the stripping of his childhood. she saw you as something to bring him back to life, to provide him with joy that would serve him for a lifetime when she was gone.

though, with that being said—yes, you still had to leave the door a crack open whenever he was over, no he couldn’t sleep over, no you couldn’t sleepover. yes, you had been sat down multiple times. yes, miles had also been sat down countless times. again, your parents were teenagers once too, and they knew exactly what teenagers got up to. but, you still had that benefit of the doubt not to do anything they wouldn’t do… partially.

your tense posture relaxes when you see miles emerge from the corner of your eye, approaching your mother and father with a knee buckling smile. before he greets your parents, he approaches his mother. rio stretches out his cheeks, mumbling a “adónde fuiste?”

he greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek paired with a side hug and your father with a dab up. as he takes his place next to you he nudges your thigh, a slick grin still plastered on his face from earlier. you lightly slap his hand, muttering a “behave,” under your breath.

“i gotta ask,” uncle aaron speaks, “how’s the guy doing?”

“oh, him?” you point to him using your thumb, “he’s a pain in my—” miles sends you a side eye, waiting for you to finish your sentence as uncle aaron lets out a boisterous laugh.

“you’re asking y/n? she’s just as difficult.” your father teases from the other end of the table. miles pokes his tongue against his cheek in an effort to prevent a laugh from spilling from his lips due to the truthfulness of your dads statement. you glare at the both of them, your eyes narrowing at their teasing.

“but seriously, how are you guys?” your mother pitches in, genuinely curious.

“he’s alright, i guess.” you playfully state while smiling to yourself.

“she cool, i guess.” miles fires back at you while also smiling.

you lightly punch him in the shoulder, staring at him while fighting the ache in your cheekbones due to how much you had been smiling.

your parents nudge each other in the side as their eyes rapidly bounce between the two of you, silently thinking the same thing, ‘they’re literally us.’ rio and uncle aaron also look at eachother, smiling amongst themselves at the interaction.

it was nice to see miles drop his stoic persona for once, after the death of his dad it was nearly impossible to catch him smiling even slightly. if rio was able to see her son smile like this all the time, then she would gladly welcome you into her home anytime.

“glad to hear,” she smiles, “listen, you have my full permission to slap some sense back into him the moment he starts acting a fool, you hear me?” her eyes bounce between the two of you.

“don’t gotta tell me twice, mrs. morales.” you laugh.

your parents call over a waiter to check on the status of their order, the tables attention redirected for a bit. you soon feel miles lips graze your ear, softly saying “who you gon slap? you know i’d fold you in half, stop playin’.”

after knowing miles for as long as you have, you’ve come to learn that his words tend to have a double meaning. in the rare cases that they didn’t, it would be pretty obvious due to either the tone of his voice, or by his body language. in this case, your suspicion was confirmed by the tone of his voice.

“why does your mind work like that?” you turn to face him.

“ma, you know why.”

“i really don’t.”

“it’s the y/n effect.”

“i know you not over there making moves on my daughter!” your father calls out, miles backing up from you immediately.

“never, sir.” he leans back while laughing.

— BONUS SCENE

“been waiting to do this all night.” miles says as he drags you outside the restaurant while your parents cover the tab.

you quietly laugh when he backs you up against the wall as he shamelessly attaches his lips to yours, his excitement piqued when you return the kiss. his hands trail up and down your body as they fiddle with the straps of your dress, your hands moving up to sensually caress his neck. you fondle the end of his braids, wrapping your arms around his neck.

caught up in the moment, you both fail to realize the chime of the restaurants bell till you hear the clearing of a throat and the shout of your government name. your eyes widen as you quickly shove miles as far away as possible, returning to your respectful places on the stone pavement.

“damn, in the middle of the street? have some decorum at least.” uncle aaron tuts in the midst of your parents wide eyes.

yeah, you were definitely getting the talk tonight.

love, berry.

[graphicpepsi]

risk (nsfw, mdni)

OR: what happens when König gets bored on a mission and you just happen to be with him..?

König sighs, leaning back and adjusting himself for the third time in ten minutes. His sniper rifle sits loosely in his hand. Bored eyes scan the environment one final time before they land on you.

"Bored yet schatz?"

"No," You lied, "Just tired."

You had begged him for months to let you come on one of his missions. You wanted to see what a day at work looked like for him. And after months of trying (and months of the older man telling you it was too dangerous) he finally obliged and brought you along.

You wanted to match with him, so you wore camo cargo jeans and a black shirt. Even though he said this was a run-of-the-mill boring mission, adrenaline still coursed through your body at the feeling of it. König next to you, his giant arms holding a gun, the scent of his musk and cologne intoxicating in the confined space.

"I'm bored." He says as if it weren't obvious, breaking the silence. He lets the rifle fall down beside him as he stretches his arms out.

His eyes were trained on the open window infront of him. You were positioned on the highest floor of a nearby apartment complex. He told you his job was to watch for terrorists and shoot to kill.

You bounce your leg anxiously. König couldn't understand what excited you so much about tagging along with him, but it made him happy to see you like this.

Besides, you loved seeing him in his gear. Although you'd never admit it to him. To you, he was a gift from fucking god when he towered over you like that; tactical helmet, cartridges strapped to his chest, utility knives strapped to his thighs- it made him look twice as big, if that was even possible.

Watching his gloved hands unload & reload shells into his rifle could make you drool.

You look up to see his blue eyes locked on you.

"What were you thinking about, love?" He asks. His mask hides the expression beneath those unrevealing eyes.

"You."

"Ja?"

He has to be smiling, you think.

"You come on my mission to distract me?"

"You're distracting me." You correct him, " 'ts not my fault."

He pulls you closer to him in one smooth motion, his strong hands gripping your waist harshly. You're so close to him you can feel his mask move in front of you after each exhale.

"I distract you?" He repeats, tilting his head. His voice drips with knowing curiosity.

You don't try to hide the way your thighs squeeze together at the sound of his thick accent in your ear, the feeling of his giant hand on your side.

"Kö.." You breathe, barely above a whisper.

"Yes, pretty?"

You climb onto him, settling yourself down on his knee, your legs dangling on either side. He breathes out a low chuckle, like he can feel you pulsing on his knee or something.

"You want this, schatz?" He guides you back and forth on his knee with his hands, moving your body like putty, dragging your wet pussy along his thigh.

"Mmfh, please König," You bury your face in the crook of his neck, grabbing at his chest and shoulders for support.

He slides you back and forth, relishing in the way you roll your hips into his knee to get more friction. He presses you down firm as he pushes his knee against your pussy, dragging you up and down until you're a whining mess on top of him.

You're so wet but it's not enough to cum, and he knows it.

You whine into him, pathetically. "More," You try to hump his leg the best you can, but the minimal friction it gets you almost hurts.

"Poor baby," König murmurs, "Can't cum?"

You grab his shoulder as hard as you can, frustrated, even though you know he can barely tell. He grabs your hair and yanks your head out from his neck.

"Such an impatient little brat."

You roll your hips down into him as a response, mind a little hazy.

"Please Kö, so wet f'you." You mumble, looking into his eyes with puppy dog ones. He nearly growls at that. He loves when you get all riled up.

Before you can protest, he flips you around on his lap so you're facing the window, sitting in between his legs.

"Tell me if I need to shoot, ok Schatz?"

Your heart pounds at his voice in your ear, but even more so at the hand groping your pussy, thick fingers dipping into the waistband of your cargos.

"Wh- König, I don't know how to- oh, fuck."

He sinks a finger into you, sliding into your wet hole easily, like your pussy was made for his fingers.

He fucks it into you, slowly, curling it and then adding another one, then another one, and another one.

Four of his thick fingers pump inside of you, curling in just the right spot and vibrating against your pussy. He uses his thumb to press against your clit, pinching it and shaking it underneath him.

Just like that, you're reduced to a moaning, wet mess on his fingers. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, eyes screwing shut with pleasure as he starts shaking his fingers inside of you, thrusting them in and out hard.

"König, Köni, I'm gonna cum, König-" He does nothing but speed up his hand at your whines, and it's not long before you're cumming on his fingers, creamy white seeping in between the cracks. He fucks you through your orgasm, slowing his hand down finally as he curls his fingers inside of you, fucking them slowly into you before taking them out entirely.

Your legs are vibrating, and if he wasn't supporting you you'd definitely fall.

He rests his hand on top of your wet pussy, the warmth of it making you moan. You're so sensitive that just the feeling of his rough palm against your puffy clit makes you whine.

"You gonna cum for me again kitten?" He rubs his palm roughly against your pussy before slapping it hard.

You bite your hand, muffling a loud moan because it caught you so off guard.

He spanks your pussy again, harder, "Get that fucking hand away from your mouth, brat." He slaps your cunt over and over again, your clit pulsing after each spank.

It only took a few rough spanks before you were cumming again, back arching against him with a loud whine.

"Sh, sh, good girl." He strokes your pussy, almost comfortingly before pulling your cargos back up and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you come down, panting.

"Oh, hang on."

He hoists his rifle up to his shoulder, takes a second to aim, and then pulls the trigger, sending a shot directly into someone's head.

"There we go."

He sets the rifle back down and pulls you back onto his lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

"You did so well, little liebling, good girl." He coos into your ear, stroking your back.

All you can do is nuzzle into him and try to catch your breath.

A/N: that picture made me FERALLLLL y'all wouldn't even believe how i was actin writin this like barkin woofin growlin grrrrrr gyatt DAMN is this man fine. If y'all want me to write sumth just lmkkk thanks for reading

EDIT: image credits belong to @loneghostwolf

[leilanihours]

🎥37 with kate!!

# HOW DO I FEEL YOU ON ME WHEN YOU'RE NOT ON MY SKIN?

pairing: kate martin x reader

word count: 616

warnings: smut (MDNI), phone sex, mutual masturbation

prompt: "fuck, i love the sounds you make."

⭑ from lani: kate being needy 😩 ts is also very filthy so. be prepared for lots of...dialogue.

celly masterlist !

main masterlist !

"I NEED YOU," was all kate said after you answered her phone call. as soon as you heard those words come out of her mouth, you knew exactly what she wanted.

"you miss me that badly?" you tease, hand already toying with the hem of your pajama shorts.

"so badly, y/n, you don't even know," she sighs.

"want me to help you?"

"please."

"well, since you asked so nicely," you smile, even though she can't see you, "touch yourself for me, baby."

on the other side of the line, kate has slipped her hand underneath her sweatpants and boxers, lightly running two fingers through her already-wet folds.

"tell me how much you miss me, kate," you say slowly, reaching a hand up your own shirt to brush over your nipples.

"i miss you so fucking bad," she breathes out, "miss the way you kiss me, the way you fuck me. god, i'm so wet just thinking about you."

"yeah? you dripping already?" you hear her hum in confirmation, "want you to fuck yourself, baby, pretend your fingers are mine. you remember how i do it right?"

"mmm, tell me," she moans with her eyes closed, just wanting to hear you talk.

"slowly push your fingers in your tight cunt, okay? think you can do two for me?"

by now you're soaking wet, too, the thought of your hot girlfriend touching herself turning you on immensely.

"yes, fuck," kate sighs, "feels so good, wish it was you."

"i know, baby, i know," you agree, beginning to play with your clit under your underwear, "wanna speed up for me?"

she obliges, heavenly yet sinful moans leaving her pink lips as she begins to fuck herself faster. her hips buck up against her own fingers, desperately searching for release.

"you make me feel so good, kate, even over the phone," you groan as you also begin shamelessly fucking yourself with your fingers.

"yeah? you playing with that pretty pussy?"

"yes, shit-" you gasp as your fingers brush against your g-spot.

"good girl, let me hear you," her fingers work faster, ramming into her cunt.

the only sounds heard on the call are moans and the distant sounds of each of your pussies soaking your fingers.

"fuck, kate, i need you so bad," you whine.

"i'm almost there, baby, keep talking," she practically begs.

"want you to fuck me so hard when i get there, want you to make me feel so good, oh fuck-" your hips stutter against your fingers, chasing your incoming high.

you can't hold back your pornographic moans as you fuck up into your hand, picturing your girlfriend's instead of your own.

"fuck, i love the sounds you make," kate moans, "gonna make me come."

"yeah? gonna come all over your fingers?"

"yes, baby, shit-" she pants, "want you to come with me."

"i'm almost there."

"i'm gonna fuck you so hard when i see you, better than your fingers can."

"promise?"

"fuck yes," kate sighs, feeling the knot in her stomach tighten, "i'm gonna come- oh shit-"

as soon as you hear her say those words, you feel yourself release all over your hand and your underwear.

kate continues grinding as she hears you yelp at your climax, the buzz she feels throughout her bidy adding to the pleasure.

"shit, kate," you sigh with a smile.

"remind me - when do you fly in?" she asks lowly as she gets up to wash her hands and put her clothes back on.

"in two days."

"too damn long," she shakes her head.

"but it'll make seeing me that much better," you point out.

"you mean it'll make fucking you that much better?"

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[taintedcigs]

i know places — e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x popular cheerleader!f!reader

warnings: 18+ ONLY, minors dni!!, ANGST, smut, p in v, kind of degradation, jealousy, praises, nicknames, br*eding kink, cre*mpie, FIGHT!!, eddie beats someone up, gareth is an asshole im sorry, and some flufff

summary: in which you are secretly dating eddie because his friends don't like you (wc: 6k+)

a/n: HELLO hello I AM BACK! i kind of hate this, and the ending sucks pls ignore it but i wanted to post it so bad bc i love ts x eddie!! also a part of this was heavily HEAVILY inspired by an ep of veronica mars bc its one of my fav shows!! also no dividers and i didn't proof-read SO PLEASE ignore the mistakes plss

Four months.

It had been four months since you and Eddie had started to “secretly date.”

And in all honesty, it had been fun. The sneaking around, the private dates, the quick fuck seshs in school, in the supply closet, after his D&D campaigns, in his van, in the woods.

And the teasing, oh god, the teasing.

It's why you were currently scrunched up in the back of his van, ragged breathing and curses, heavy tension filling the space.

“You done teasin’?” he asked, hovering over you.

It started with the glances in the hallway, at first, Eddie thought they were innocent. But the way you threw your head back as you touched Andy’s arm had Eddie’s jaw clenched.

He was sure his blood was boiling by the time he dragged you back to his van.

He dismissed your concerns about how he shouldn’t skip English again, he could care less, he needed you, and he needed you now.

It was driving him crazy too, while he had fun, he hated the idea of not being able to tell those stupid jocks to back off of his girl.

He hated the stupid school hierarchy and his friends for having to keep this relationship a secret, he hated not being able to show you off.

“Teasing?” You asked, an innocent smile playing on your lips.

“C’mon don’t play coy now.” He warned, “I know what you were tryin’ to do with that stupid jock.” He scoffed.

“And did it work?” You batted your lashes, and he rolled his tongue inside of his cheek. “Yeah.” He barely gave you any time to adjust before his lips hungrily attacked yours.

So needy and filled with lust that you couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped your lips. He didn’t waste any time as he reached for the edge of your tiny top almost ripping it off and letting it drop to the van’s floor.

You could feel your breath hitch with how rough he was being, his calloused fingers flipping your cheerleader skirt and moving your panties aside, sliding a finger as he groaned at the wetness, partying your pussy to get a better view of your gushing heat.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” He cursed under his breath, “Such a pretty fucking pussy, baby,” He peppered your heat. “All mine, yea?” He asked needily.

His fingers worked your clit with little circles, causing you to whimper out. “Mhmm.” You barely let out, eyes shutting immediately in pleasure.

His fingers worked to stretch you open, and his visible bulge was pressing hard against his uncomfortable pants, you knew you would get what you had been begging for all morning soon.

“You think it’s fuckin’ funny to try to make me jealous?” He raised a brow, and you stopped your lips from twitching into a smirk, you didn’t need him to edge you, not right now, not when you needed him this much.

“Nuh-uh.” You pouted, “Only did it cause you kept flirting with that girl yesterday at the gig.” You huffed, you knew you were being petty, but could care less, the downside to this whole deal was the fact that you couldn’t tell those girls to back off of him, you just had to smile and watch as they swooned all over him.

And if he could play at that game, so could you.

He gave you a slight chuckle before his fingers plunged in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as you moaned for more. “Needy fuckin’ slut.” He’s being mean, and you love it.

“I’ll give you all the attention you need, yea? Such a bratty baby.” He teased.

You cried out when he retracted his fingers, feeling empty as you pouted at him. He was quick to get his aching cock out of the uncomfortable boxers, bouncing against his stomach as he hissed.

His breathing was ragged as his cock flexed in his palm, causing your thighs to tremble with need, “Do something.” You breathed.

He raised a brow at your eagerness, “Please,” You pleaded, tears welling in your eyes at the pent-up frustration inside of you.

He was quick to dip his head down your chest, mouth nibbling at your nipples, and you arched against his fingers, he was driving you crazy and you could feel his aching cock brush against your thighs.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” He cried out pinching your clit, “And all mine,” You liked how rough and possessive he got when he was jealous, you didn’t care that it was wrong, your heat was pulsing relentlessly with need.

“Jesus,” He cried out when he had one hand on your hip, and used the other to rub the tip of his pulsing cock against your entrance.

You trembled with desire when he teased you further, his pink tip sliding easily over your soaking cunt, “C’mon, thought you wanted to fuckin’ tease me?” He mocked.

“You’re already cryin’ out like a whore and I haven’t even touched you properly yet, peach,” He cooes, causing you to whine.

“N—need you,” Barely able to speak, you spread your thighs further, and Eddie gives you a chuckle, his mocking was making you throb even more.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you spread your legs like that for that dumb jock too, honey?” His words are laced with bitterness and you’re quick to shake your head.

“Uh—uh, only you,” You whine, he’s rough as he grabs your cheeks making you look at him, your eyes widen as you desperately plead for him to do something  — anything.

“Since I own this tight little cunt, I’m gonna use it like I fuckin’ want to,” He growls, and you whimper at that, Eddie’s lips tilt into a smirk, he knows you enjoy his words. “You want that, peach? You want me to wreck this pretty little pussy? Fill you to the brim with my warm load?” He asks, and it makes you tilt your head backward in pleasure when he teases his tip against your entrance again.

“Mpmhm… Fuckfuckfuck, yes please!” You’re practically shaking with the need to be fucked.

He grasped your wrists in one hand, pinning them against the cold walls of his van, making you hiss, barely giving you any warning before he slowly prodded his aching cock inside your velvety walls.

“Fuckohfuckohfuck,” His breathing was ragged and you could almost feel his cock splitting you open, your mouth rounding into a silent ‘Oh.’

As he plunged himself deeper into you, your back arched back toward him, making your cunt clamp down on his cock, and he growled, “S’fuckin’ tight, poor baby must’ve felt so empty without my cock, yea?” He cooes and you nod quickly.

You could feel your insides burn, both from need and from how big Eddie was. “Mmmph, greedy fuckin’ cunt. Takin’ me so well, honey.” He murmured peppering your face with kisses, you could barely take in his words, your mind clouded with desire.

Your eyes welled up in tears again, it felt so fucking good, feeling him this deep inside of you, “Shhh… you can do it baby,” Eddie encouraged as he forced himself deeper into your soaking walls.

“Be a good girl and take it all, can you do that honey?” You nodded immediately, Eddie’s hands were quick to caress your cheeks, “Good fuckin’ girl,” He murmured before he went on and on, his cock invading your walls until he was sure he was balls deep inside of you.

You couldn’t help the filthy squeaks that escaped your lips, the space of the van filled with your mewls and Eddie’s balls slapping against you.

He licks your neck before he bites hard onto your shoulder, his grunts filling the room as he plunges harder into you.

“Jesus fucking— mmpfh… just like that honey,” He murmurs into your neck, “My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

“Look so fuckin’ pretty when you’re all fucked out like this,” He nibbles on your neck, hands pinching your nipples. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, baby,” He groans as he slams further inside of you.

“Edsedsedseds!” You repeat like a mantra, “What’d’ya need, peach?” He asks smugly.

“Jesus— n-need to cum!” You cry out and Eddie’s brain short-circuits for a moment, as you lay beneath him, plump lips making ‘Oh!’ sounds as your head is tilted back, and Eddie revels in it.

“Do it, honey. Cum for me,” He encourages.

“Need that tight little cunt to clamp down on me, peach,” He groans, and your whimpers get louder, you know you’re getting close and Eddie can feel how much you tighten around him.

“Shitshitshiiit— baby, this cunt is so fuckin’ greedy, and so fuckin’ tight,” He grunts. “All mine, angel.”

“’M close, Eds…” You barely blurt out in your fucked out state, and Eddie coos, “Cum for me, honey, c’mon cream my cock.”

He tilts his hips up further and hits your velvety walls so perfectly that almost has your eyes crossing.

Once his calloused fingers make their way onto your clit, rubbing slow circles and also giving your sensitive spot a pinch you cry out, trembling beneath him as you feel yourself release around his cock.

He lets out a loud grunt, “S’fuckin’ tight when you cum, shit— Gonna fuck my load into you, baby.”

“You want that? You want me to fill that pretty pussy, have you leakin’ my cum for days?” You nod weakly, still too fucked out to answer.

“Fuckfuckfuck— yeah, baby, gonna fill your tight little hole up, gonna give you all this cum,” He grunted.

“Would you like that honey? Shit—so fuckin’ tight, beg for it, beg for me, princess—” He almost growls into the curve of your neck, his hips slamming forward roughly, “Please—Eds, please, need your cum…” You make a mewling sound and Eddie can’t help himself, he’s pounding into you like a dog in heat and he knows he’s getting close now.

“Jesus—I’m gonna cum, honey. God—I’m gonna spend all of my load in this tight little cunt peach, it’s takin’ me so well, baby, I couldn’t pull out even if I wanted to, fuckfuckfuck—”

“Goin’ to fuck my load into you, baby, need to fill you up nice and sweet,” He cooes, mind boggling with the sight of your tits jiggling each time he slams harder into you, he knows he is rearing his orgasm with the way his hips stutter.

“Cum inside’a me, please,” You purr, eyes sultry as they meet Eddie’s, his grip on your hips tightens enough to leave a mark, your words sending a wave of pleasure to him as his movement is picked up.

“Mhmm, I love it when you fill me up s’warm and nice, and make me yours,” You murmured and that was it for Eddie.

His groans became uncontrollable now, and his eyes squeezed shut, he slammed into your body one last time, roughly, a string of curses spilled from his lips before his cock pulsated and his warm sticky load painted your insides, already spilling out of your tight cunt with how stuffed you were, falling down your thighs. 

With a few “Fuckfuckfuck’s” Eddie collapsed on top of you, lips peppering your face softly as he wrapped an arm around you, murmuring, “You okay, baby?”

You nodded quickly, “Mhmm…” You relaxed into his warm body, “That fuckin’ punk really thought he could flirt with you, huh?” He chuckled; he was still possessive, bringing a dark smile to your lips.

“You know what you have to do to keep them away, don’t you?” You raised a brow, and he immediately knew what you were implying, but he wasn’t ready for any of it.

“Not this again,” He huffed, and you were quick to get out of his hold, you weren’t the type to push a guy around to make things exclusive, but with Eddie, you wanted nothing more than that, you didn’t even care about the teasing you would endure when the two of you made things official, but he certainly did, and it was starting to hurt you.

“Nevermind,” You murmured, searching for your clothes as Eddie got up, “Why are we in such a hurry?” He asked, tone worried. “We already skipped one class, I don’t wanna skip another one, doofus.” You narrowed your eyes at him before slipping on your skirt, sighing in relief when you found your panties discarded on the floor.

“You mad at me or somethin’?” You could tell how fragile he was acting around you, and it made your heart ache, but all of the secrets and running around were getting to you, the girls that were throwing themselves at Eddie as he flashed them a chuckle made your blood boil, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“No, it’s just super fucking tiring to act like you don’t exist, when you’re the only person I want in my life,” Your words come out faster than you mean to, and you look at him with such a hopeful gaze that Eddie’s heart tightens, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“Honey…” He whispers, before pulling your body to his again, “You have no fuckin’ idea how much I want that to happen, but—”

“But, what?” Your voice is irritated.

“But you know how the guys are, you know how annoying Gareth—��� You immediately scoff at the name.

You had no idea when or why it happened.  You had no idea what caused him to act this way toward you. But Eddie’s friends absolutely hated you.  Especially Gareth. Jeff also did not like the fact that you were the head cheerleader, but Gareth almost had a vendetta against you, you had barely interacted with him, but the boy was out to get you.

You were fine with the kids, Dustin and Mike had adored you the second you protected them against Carver’s idea of a joke. Lucas, with his new place on the basketball team, understood you, granted he had no idea of what was happening between you and Eddie, but he knew you were Eddie’s friend, and he knew how hard Eddie’s friends have been on you.

And that is exactly why you and Eddie had decided to keep your relationship a secret that started a few months ago.

Eddie had doubts about what people would say about your relationship, and he couldn’t handle the fact that his friends would have a say in it, he wanted to keep you away from them, as long as possible.

And he assumed your popular friends wouldn’t be so keen on him, either.

So you agreed to keep the relationship a secret, but it was eating away at you now.

“It’s about him again, isn’t it?” You asked, shaking your head with a chuckle. “Four months and you can’t even dare to say I’m your girlfriend, because of fucking Gareth,” You spat out.

“It’s not just about that—Jesus, you think your cheerleader and jock friends would fuckin’ enjoy havin’ the freak around?” His tone was louder now and you hated it.

“I don’t care! I don’t give the slightest fuck what they would think about my boyfriend, it’s my business and they don’t fucking get a say in it, Eddie!” Your insecurities were on the surface now, even if Eddie couldn’t tell, you were hurt by him wanting to hide you away this much, caring more about Gareth who had this twisted game of trying to hurt you, and it made you feel like absolute shit like Eddie could care less about you.

“Don’t you think I fuckin’ know that? I do! But Gareth—” You scoffed interrupting him as you turned around to face him. “Fuck him!” Your voice raised in fury.

“Look, Eddie, if you don’t want this—” Your hand was quick to point between the two of you, “Just say the fucking word.”  

“You’re twistin’ my fuckin’ words around,” His voice didn’t hold the confidence it did before, his eyes were washed over with guilt and worry, he couldn’t afford to lose you, and if he kept being a jackass, it looked like he was going to.

“You’re unbelievable,” He scoffed, “I’m unbelievable?” You quoted him, eyes narrowing again.

Eddie was on his last straws and he knew it, but he couldn’t get himself to back down, he couldn’t let you see the vulnerable side of him this soon, there was no way you would be able to stay with him, not when you saw how fragile he actually was.

“Yeah! You fuckin’ are,  acting all insane and shit just because you felt jealous over some stupid girls—” And he stops there because the exasperation of breath that slipped past your lips is so loud that he realizes what he just said.

“Fuck you,” You say it so ironically and humorously, that Eddie likes to think this is one of those ironic ‘Fuck you’s you had uttered to him before, slightly nudging his side as you gave him a warm smile, but you’re nothing but cold now.

“If you think that’s what this is about then I have nothing to say to you,” Your voice was timid before you made your way to the door, Eddie’s faint mumbles of your name were just dizzying your mind when you felt the hot tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

And with that, Eddie spent the rest of the day either sulking or using other people as his anger outlet, he knew it wasn’t fair, but he couldn’t help it when you spent the rest of the day ignoring him, acting like he didn’t even exist, and it was killing him.

It got so much worse for him around lunchtime, his table was facing you, and his throat tightened, a lump forming at the fact that you didn’t even glance at him, not even turning your head toward his direction.

Eddie was fidgeting in his seat, he was itching to run over to your side, scream at the top of his lungs that you were his girlfriend, and kiss you, right in front of the entire school.

It was killing him, not being able to show you how much he fucking loved you. And his mind was now swirling with the idea that you finally realized how much of a loser he was, or that you finally realized how he didn’t deserve you, not in the slightest bit.

After one fucking conversation he had managed to push you away, and possibly manage to ruin one good fucking thing in his life, and he wanted to bang his head against the table while yelling out idiotidiotidiot!

Eddie knew he had to do something, as soon as possible, you were slipping away from his fingers, and he couldn’t handle losing you.

You were doing everything you can to avoid his gaze, no matter how much your head itched to cock in his direction.

Trying your best to stay unbothered as you attempted to laugh genuinely at the cheesy jokes Andy was providing the table with.

And Eddie’s blood was boiling, you seriously didn’t mean to make him jealous, but it didn’t matter to him, you were acknowledging everyone and specifically Andy right now but him, and it made Eddie’s jaw clench uncontrollably.

The banter going on at the table was unknown to him, but it made your skin crawl as if Gareth was saying some stupid shit about you again as if the entire table was mocking you, it was cruel, or at least it felt cruel to you.

That’s when your throat tightened up, your mind foggy as you could barely focus on anything but the chatter going on at Eddie’s table.

The cafeteria noises were pounding in your head now, jock’s table filled with the obnoxious laugh of Jason Carver, and you could even hear Robin blabbing something to Steve somewhere behind you. It was all a blur to you by now.

It surely had nothing to do with you but your mind and anxiety were enough to convince you that Gareth was making fun of you at the table. That little voice in your head there to tell you all the worst possibilities.

You barely noticed Eddie’s body burning off with rage when you were so focused on trying to hear what Gareth was saying, it shouldn’t have bothered you this much, but knowing how close he was to Eddie and how much he hated you… maybe it meant something.

Maybe Gareth knew that you were not good enough for Eddie, maybe you deserved it.

Maybe Gareth was right, maybe you were not right for Eddie, maybe he deserved to be with someone who liked his stupid D&D game, someone who didn’t conform, someone who wasn’t a coward, maybe someone who wasn’t a—

“Hey…”

“You okay?” Chrissy’s concerning voice caused your train of thought to disappear, at least pushing it back into your subconscious until you were ready to face your problems again.

“Mhmm,” You were quick to flash her with a smile, it wasn’t genuine and she probably knew it wasn’t genuine but, she stood silent as she didn’t want to put you on blast in front of everyone, giving you a tight-lipped smile and a reassuring squeeze in your arm, and you invited it in, cold demeanor changing within seconds.

And Eddie could sense it now, sitting across you, leaning in his chair like a storm isn’t brewing in his head, eyeing you carefully.

You slowly readjusted yourself, eyes quickly stealing a glance from Eddie’s table–but never at him.

And if he wasn’t watching he would’ve missed it, but he didn’t—hope inside of him blossoming like never before.

He was fidgeting to get out of his seat, run over to you, hands itching to hold you again, never to let go this time.

Your quick glance, instead of resulting in Eddie’s attention, brought Gareth’s unwarranted attention to you.

You felt uncomfortable in your seat now, you knew now your anxiety about him talking awfully about you to Eddie would be true now.

“She’s such a spoiled brat,” Gareth blurted out.

“Who are you talking about?” Jeff asked mindlessly, hands dipped into the fries he had been munching on.

“That stupid cheerleader,” Eddie’s head snapped at the mention of that, surely Gareth didn’t mean—Oh.

It was as if the rage building in within Eddie had snapped within seconds, thoughts in his head swirling, blaming Gareth for the fight.

“Watch it,” Eddie’s voice spoke before he turned his attention to Gareth, the table immediately quitening down.

“Excuse me?” Gareth questioned, taken aback, before Eddie cocked his head in his direction.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk about her,” His teeth were gritted, and your ears perked up at the rise in Eddie’s voice.

“The fuck are you on about?” Gareth replied back, the tension in the table was rising and Dustin was fidgeting im his seat by now.

“I’m telling you to keep your mouth shut when it comes to her, is that clear?” Eddie bounced from his seat, so quickly that he didn’t realize the entire cafeteria staring at him, including you.

Gareth gave him a confused chuckle, “I’m sorry?”

“Are you defending a cheerleader now or what? Have you forgotten how awful they have been to us?” He raised a brow.

“She didn’t do anything,” Eddie defended you like his life depended on it, he couldn’t believe how stupid he was being, for caring about Gareth’s half-witted input on you, like he ever actually had a conversation with you other than throwing insults to your way under his breath.

“So leave her alone,” It was more like a threat than anything else, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the scene, Eddie not noticing your gaze, blinded by the rage.

Eddie was barely hanging by a thread, the way he leaned over the table eyes bulging out as he stood over Gareth, everyone could sense it.

A loud whoo’s from the jock’s table caused you to huff, before you knew it, Jason Carver was involved.

“Trouble in paradise?” He shouted, followed by the obnoxious laughter of his followers, they called Eddie the leader of a satanic cult but by the looks of it, Jason and his stupid little jocks fit the description more.

“Oh, shut it, Carver,” Your mouth opened before your mind could process it, heads turned toward you and you were afraid to look back up now.

The laughter from Jason’s table had died down, and you could feel plenty of eyes on you, but what mattered the most, you could feel Eddie’s burning gaze on you, the storm in his mind calming down with your tone.

Before you knew it everyone went into something else, Chrissy was quick to start a conversation and you could see from the corner of your eye that Dustin had probably took on the same job, spewing nonsense until the tension deviated.

Eddie had slumped into his seat now, thighs spread wide open while his leg fidgeted, his anger had dissipated—eyes trained on you again, it was so obvious now, even Chrissy was nudging you.

The conversation at the table was no longer interesting, he didn’t even attempt to care if Gareth was okay, you stood up to him in front of the entire school, so mindlessly that Eddie felt like a coward.

Guilt ran through his veins quicker than it intended to, Eddie knew he has been acting like an idiot, but you had opened his eyes further.

He knew he had to talk to you.

And once he saw you leaving the cafeteria alone, he knew it was now or never.

He barely waited right after you left, ignoring the voices from the table calling out for him as he waved them off, mumbling incoherently about how he had to take care of something.

You stopped when you heard his weighted footsteps, jogging after you as he called your name.

You were afraid to turn around, afraid to ask him what had happened that made him lash out at Gareth like that.

“I’m sorry,” were the first words that slipped past his almost trembling lips, his honey-brown eyes mellow.

“I said some really stupid things I shouldn’t have said,” were the words that followed, you could tell he meant it, ragged breath escaping with each word, he was nervous.

Your heart tightened in your chest, unable to open your mouth, you stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“I—I don’t need you to say anything,” He breathed again, and it’s not like you could get any words out now, they all died down in your throat.

“I just need you to trust me,” He murmured, calloused hands coming in contact with your shoulders as he held you steady, your legs feeling like jelly when he looked at you like that.

“W—with what?” You didn’t mean to stutter, but you couldn’t help it when he was standing this close to you, it didn’t matter if you had been dating for the last four months, you could tell something in him had changed, with the way he held you in public, your mind getting excited about the possibilities.

“I’m gonna fix this,” He pointed between the two of you, almost mimicking you from before.

“I’ll pick you up at 7, does that sound okay?” He gave you a warm smile, teeth flashing and dimples forming on the right side of his cheek, making you giggle immediately.

“O–okay,” You didn’t mean to sound so excited–almost desperate, but you could feel your insides twist with hope with each of his words, breaking down the guards you spent building up all these years.

He gave you a sloppy kiss on your cheek, his smile never wearing off, “See you after school, yea?” You nodded quickly, heat rising up on your cheeks.

By the time Eddie picked you up by your house, your chest tightened, the whole ride was more silent than usual, the stereo Eddie usually blasted now stayed as a background noise as you fidgeted in your seat.

“Are you ever gonna tell me where we are going? Or at least what we’re gonna do?” You asked curiously, head cocking to his side.

“So impatient,” He mocked, hands drumming on the steering wheel before he flashed you a smile.

“We’re almost there,” He announced, and the roads were becoming all too familiar to you now.

“Are we going to the trailer?” You asked excitedly, and Eddie threw you a look.

“You do know what surprises mean, don’t you?” He raised his brows and flashed a teasing smile, his eyes dancing with amusement.

You huffed playfully, crossing your arms against your chest.

“You do realize how cute you look when you get all mad like that?”

"Oh, stop it," you stammered, covering your face slightly with your hands, attempting to hide your embarrassment and the smile that threatened to betray you.

Eddie flashed a toothy-grin, dimples ever so present, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him, even if you wanted to.

Gaze lingered on his features longingly, as if trying to capture every detail in your memory. “Thank you for today,” He murmured, almost embarrassed, looking out on the road as his hands got clammy on the steering wheel.

You know exactly what he was thanking you for, but you still threw him a puzzled look.

“For standing up to Carver like that,” He adds, clearing his throat,

“I doubt you realize it Eddie but—”

“I think I’d pretty much do anything for you,” The words blurted out before you could process them, brain jumbled from everything that happened today.

A soft smile curved his lips as he watched you, eyes tracing every contour of your face with awe.

The rest of the ride was silent, as you kept your promise to not spoil the surprise, mind filled with various ideas as Eddie finally pulled up to his trailer.

"So... will you tell me the surprise now?" You asked, smile etching on your face as Eddie gave you a breathy laugh.

"Such an impatient baby, huh?" He mocked, nudging your shoulder playfully, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

As you caught up to him, he couldn't help but reach out to brush your hand with his fingertips, a subtle gesture of affection.

When he finally intertwined them, your heart raced, possibilities of whatever the surprise was overwhelming you as your palms grew sweaty with anxiety when you faced the daunting door to Eddie's trailer.

Eddie's fingers gripped the doorknob tightly, with a twist of the key in his hands, the lock mechanism turned, and he pushed the door open, revealing loud chattering coming from the room.

You got startled when Eddie fully opened the door, almost squealing when you saw all of the Hellfire Club squeezed into the living room, your eyes widening at Eddie's surprise.

It was silent before Gareth spoke up, “What kind of a sick joke is this supposed to be?” He chuckled bitterly, Eddie felt hot-blooded again.

“Is this why you defended her during lunch?” He chuckled, and your eyes widened at the revelation—so, that's why Eddie lashed out at lunch.

"Unfuckinbelievable," Gareth scoffed.

Eddie's jaw tightened, the muscles flexing with the strain of suppressing the overwhelming urge to lash out. “What the hell are you doing? Please tell me this is a new joke of yours called ‘I’m fucking the spoiled brat cheerleader to spite the jocks’.” Gareth spoke up, and turned around to Jeff and others for approval, but the rest of the guys just stood silent, he had crossed the line and everyone could sense it.

Your face soured at his comment, and you could feel Eddie’s grip on your hand tightened, he was getting fired up. “Goodbye, Gareth.” Eddie spoke calmly, much to your and everyone else’s surprise. Every movement he made was rigid, calculated, as if trying to contain the tempest of rage threatening to consume him.

Gareth turned to Eddie baffled, “What?” He scoffed, and Eddie gave a breathy chuckle before straightening up to collect himself. “Get out of my house.” Eddie spat with rage inside of him.

“You have a problem with, her, you leave.” You looked up at him softly as you gently squeezed his hand to let him know that it was okay, he didn’t need to make a scene, and he softened with your touch.

“Actually, if you have a problem with Y/N, you’re pretty much dead to me so just like…” He mocked a thinking face, “Evaporate or something, I don’t know.” A sarcastic smirk was plastered onto his lips now.

Everyone stood silent, causing Eddie to huff.

“That’s kind of a general invitation, if you don’t like my girlfriend then… just start heading toward the rectangle with the knob.” A wide smile spread across your face at him calling you 'his girlfriend', you leaned towards him almost, eager to soak in every word.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” Gareth spat out, Eddie rolled his tongue inside of his cheek at the comment, it looked like Gareth wasn't just going to go away silently, and Eddie wasn't sure if he could hold off the storm brewing inside of him if Gareth dared to talk about you again.

“Selling off your friends for a cheer slut—”

THUMP!

The sound that resonated in your ears before Gareth laid on the ground beneath you, it happened all so fast, Eddie's veins pulsating with the surging rage before his fists collided with Gareth's cheek.

Your mouth hung open, words trapped in your throat as your voice failed you in the face of disbelief.

Eddie cowered over him, the rest of the guys standing in shock as they tried to hold him back, they didn't need to, Eddie was done with Gareth.

“I told you to not fuckin' speak about her, was that not clear?” He spat out his words with seething anger. Gareth looked back at him with a groan.

“Then let this be a lesson for you.” He sneered.

It was all blurry, Gareth still groaning and mumbling under his breath as he left without a goodbye, the rest of the guys apologizing as they took care of Gareth, congratulating the two of you before he left to probably get that poor boy some ice.

“Well... I'd say that went pretty well?” A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, and you giggled at Eddie's inability to defuse the tension in the room.

“'M so sorry...” You straightened your posture, lifting your head to meet Eddie's soft gaze.

“Are you kidding?” He asked, eyes glinting with admiration.

“I don't care about him,” He scoffed.

“He doesn't fucking get to talk about you like that, and he doesn't deserve to be in my life,” His firm stance and unwavering eye contact were signaling you that he meant every word he was saying, he got sick of Gareth's shit, that's why this had happened, not because of you.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, honey,” He muttered, pressing soft kisses into your hair, he was trying to relieve you of your guilt, telling you that this was all on Gareth.

He leaned slightly forward, subtly closing the distance between you and him. “Now see,” He muttered, “Why can't it just be like this?” He couldn't help but reach out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender as his fingers ached to touch you.

“Why do other people in the world have to exist, huh?” Every time he spoke to you, his voice took on a softer, almost more mellow tone, as if he was savoring the words to speak to you on his lips.

Your head tilted slightly with a giggle, eager to absorb every word he uttered. Each touch, each gaze you shared, sent an unwavering contentment through his entire being, more than you realized.

[min1check]

Leto! Joker x side chick! Reader ig…

1248 words

Barely proofread ts so i’m so sorry if u see errors

pt 2

Description: You work at one of Joker’s clubs and he starts to take an interest in you….

Every night there would be presents and money left on my small table in my small ass kitchen in this small ass apartment. 

It all started when I finally learned the real identity of my boss’s boss’s boss at the club I worked at. I really needed money desperately for my family who lived out of the country. I’m currently working on the papers so they can gain legal presence but until then I need to work hard and study hard. 

At the club I worked at, they paid me better than most places and I would be able to go to university in the daytime and work at night. 

The club was pretty high class, there were many high profile politicians who were VIPs. Given that they were even at a club, they were most if not all sleezebags who tried to hit on the staff to the point that I could file sexual harassment charges. But nevermind that. 

The club was so high class and full of VIPs that I didn’t expect it to be owned by the biggest crime lord in this city, the Joker. This whole city was corrupt in and out. Even if I tried to file those sexual harassment charges I would’ve been shut up instantly. 

When I saw this head of green hair and his pale deathly looking skin and his red lips that I couldn’t tell if it was lipstick or blood, I tried my best to not be noticed by him. 

Though he looked like a corpse he was extremely attractive. Maybe in another universe I would actually try to get at him. Well and if his fellow Clown Queen of Crime didn't exist. She frightens me even more than Joker. Well actually that’s a lie but as a girl I can say that we’re ruthless when it comes to boyfriends and husbands and such. Too blind and in too much love to use actual reason.

Harley’s beautiful though they genuinely look good together. 

I went over to Joker’s table where he was talking to (or more like taunting) his client to drop off the drinks. It seemed that everyone else already knew what his regular drink was and his client’s. 

I tried my best not to mess up or to not loudly drop the drinks because at this moment I could actually not stop my whole body from shaking. They continued talking about their deal without even looking at me. I kept a friendly smile on my face. 

I walked off a bit quickly because I was terrified. Yet I felt like someone was staring right at me. I quickly turned my head and all I could see in that moment was Joker with his usual devilishly grin looking straight at me. My blood ran cold. 

When I was out of his sight I closed my eyes and started to pray. 

‘Dear God, please forgive me for any sins I have committed for I do not want to die tonight. I have too much to live for so please don’t let me die. Thank you for everything you have blessed me with Lord, amen.’ 

I was crying internally. 

Literally was gonna kill myself right then and there. But I brought myself back to reality and back to work. 

Whenever I would come to work the Joker would be there with Harley. 

I literally think I’m going crazy because I think he keeps looking straight at me…. With his girlfriend/wife/partner in crime which was even worse. Yeah he was hot but cheating men are scum of the Earth. And Joker’s a mass murderer and other stuff. To be honest I kinda forgot I’ve been too busy with school to care about politics….

I finally got a shift off and a day off of school today. I’m just gonna sleep and lounge around and be fat. I got out of my bed to go get some more ice cream in my kitchen. 

It felt a bit unnerving when I was in the kitchen, like someone was watching me. I shook off the feeling because I had locks on every single window and door. The crime in my country is a bit bad so Gotham wasn’t that much different. 

As soon as I turned around to go back to my bedroom with my ice cream in hand…

“Boo!” 

“What the fuck?!” I screamed so loud that I dropped my bowl of ice cream and it shattered. 

“The look on your face doll… it’s so… funny!” The intruder was the Joker and he couldn’t and wouldn’t stop laughing at my reaction. 

“…” I just stood there in silence thinking about how that bowl was so expensive…

I didn’t want my floor to be sticky so I started picking up shards of the really expensive bowl. 

“Aww~ Are you.. mad doll~?” He teased me with his usual grin. 

“Not really, I’m just a little sad because this bowl was really expensive.” I sighed to myself. 

“If that’s it then here.” Joker tossed money at me. 

“Um… It’s okay I’ll just work for it back.” My mom always taught me that I shouldn’t accept money and that I should always offer to pay so I gave that money back to him. 

“Just take it Doll, think of it as my~ first~ gift~ to~ you~” he really emphasized on the last part like really. 

He got comfy and sat down on a table chair as I cleaned the floor from the sticky mess. 

That sounds a little wrong, I just mean my ice cream trust…

After cleaning it all, it occurred to me…

Why and how did the Joker get into my apartment…

My blood ran cold. I feel like I could turn into a reptile with how much my blood goes cold. 

“I liked seeing you at my club but I like seeing you in this shaggy apartment more.” He looked at me. 

“Um… how did you get in here?” I spoke quietly afraid I would somehow strike a nerve. 

“It was easy! I broke your window.” He spoke like he just finished climbing Mt. Everest. 

My mouth dropped to the floor. 

Like I tried to close it but it just wouldn't. 

“…” 

“What~? Cat got your tongue Doll?” He grinned. 

I’m actually going to kill myself. 

At this point I hope he pulls out the glock 19 and shoots me….

Wait but all my windows are barred up…

I looked into my living room and realized there was glass everywhere and the metal bar was stretched apart enough where it would fit the Joker perfectly. 

Calculating the cost in my head I actually started to cry. Tears ran down my face. 

I would be fine if I picked up a few extra shifts but I had to study more because finals were coming up. I’ll have to cut down on food and sleep…

The Joker awkwardly patted my back. 

“Here’s some more money Princess.” 

“I.. Cant accept it.” I said between sniffles and pushed his money back to him. 

He suddenly grabbed my head with both his hands and made me stare him in the eye. 

“Take. The. Money. Princess. Or else I’ll shove it down your throat.” His face was way too close to mine. 

“Thank you…” I tried my best to smile while he was still manhandling my head. 

He kissed me out of literally nowhere. 

My blood went cold again. 

I don’t want to be a mistress or some side bitch….

And Harley’s gonna kill me……

Yet it felt so good. 

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART II

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 9.1k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). explicit sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! here's the second part, finally. i had lots of fun writing this one, happy reading <3

part one

After staying at Cillian's for awhile, you decided to go to the place you had rented. The truth is, you didn't want to leave, but you had already extended your stay longer than planned, and you wanted to give him space with his kids. And you also wanted to give him time to process the event that took place four nights ago in his bathroom. Or you wanted to give yourself time to process it.

At this point, you weren't sure who needed the space more.

It was all very confusing because, yes, you've had feelings for him for God knows how long, but you've squashed them down like a stubborn bug for the sake of your friendship and, most importantly, his family. Those two things were always at the forefront of your mind, guiding every action and decision. But now that his family is no longer a factor and the two of you almost crossed a line, it's hard to ignore those feelings.

Those feelings that crawl up your spine every time he smiles at you or brushes against your hand accidentally. Those feelings also make you feel like the worst person in the world, as if you're betraying his ex-wife and their children by even entertaining the idea of something more with him.

It's all so delicate.

The cottage is nestled between rolling green hills and the glimmering blue of a distant sea. The place is like a warm embrace. The floors are laid with wide, honey-colored wooden planks, their surface worn smooth by generations of footsteps. Exposed wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, their rich, dark wood adding a sense of history and sturdiness to the space. The walls are painted in a soft, creamy white. The master bedroom is a haven of tranquility, with white linen curtains billowing softly in the breeze from the open window. The bed, with its wrought iron frame, is piled high with quilts and pillows in soft shades of blue and green. It's the best sleep you've had in months.

It rained earlier today. You've stayed inside all day, not wanting to venture out into the wet weather. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the window was a soothing backdrop to your day, but it stopped around mid-afternoon, leaving behind a fresh, clean scent in the air.

Now you’re sitting at the rustic wooden table beneath the pergola, one leg tucked under you, grapevines overhead casting dappled shadows on the weathered wood. The garden around you is alive with color—wildflowers in every shade imaginable sway gently in the soft breeze, and the lavender and rosemary release their fragrant scent into the air.

Bon Iver’s voice drifts softly from your phone, which lies next to your notepad on the table. The music is haunting, its melancholy tones matching the weight in your chest. You’ve been here for hours, or maybe it’s only been minutes—time seems to blur together lately.

The notepad lies open beside you, filled with half-written lyrics, fragments of thoughts and emotions that you can’t quite bring yourself to finish. The pages are messy, scribbled lines crossed out, some words barely legible, as if your hand couldn’t keep up with the rush of thoughts.

You’ve been chasing this dream for so long—touring, recording, performing in front of thousands of people—but somewhere along the way, you’ve lost sight of why you started. The music that once brought you so much joy now feels like a burden; the words that once flowed effortlessly are now tangled up in doubt and frustration. The applause, the fame, the success—it’s all there, but it feels hollow. It feels lonely.

The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, but you’re too tired to move. You prop one leg up the chair and rest your chin on your hand. You focus on the water, trying to find some solace in its steady flow. But all you can feel is a deep, gnawing sense of unfulfillment, a yearning for something you can’t even name.

How pathetic.

You’re tired, so tired, and the dream that once seemed so bright now feels like a chore.

The door creaks open behind you, and you catch the faint sound of footsteps on the stone path. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. Cillian moves with a certain quietness, a soft presence that you’ve come to recognize. The footsteps grow closer until they stop just to your left.

"You should lock your door," he says, his voice low, carrying a hint of amusement but also concern.

You let out a small, tired laugh, not bothering to look up. "Didn’t think anyone would come by," you reply, your gaze still fixed on the stream; its gentle flow is the only thing that seems to make sense right now.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stands there, his shadow blending with yours. Then he pulls out the chair next to you, the wood scraping softly against the stone, and sits down. You can feel his eyes on you, but he doesn’t press, just lets the silence settle around you both.

You hear him shift beside you, and from the corner of your eye, you see him glance down at the notepad on the table. His gaze lingers on the unfinished words, but he doesn’t say anything about them. Instead, he just leans back in his chair, looking out at the water with you.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally speaks, his voice softer, almost reflective. "I know that look. The one that says you’re miles away, stuck in your own head."

You don't respond, knowing that he understands you more than most people. The music on your phone shifts to another Bon Iver song, this time Beach Baby.

He continues. "You know, sometimes I think about all of it—this life, the fame, the roles I play. It’s bizarre, isn’t it? I spend so much time being someone else, living in someone else’s skin, that it’s easy to forget who I am when the cameras stop rolling."

His words hang in the air, and you turn your head slightly to look at him. His expression is thoughtful, his blue eyes distant, like he’s lost in his own memories. "It’s like… sometimes, I feel more like myself when I’m acting, when I’m being someone else. That's what made me fall in love with it in the first place. I just loved being somebody else. It’s easier, somehow. But then there are those moments, when the lights go out, and I’m just… me. And that’s when the loneliness creeps in."

You nod, understanding more than you’d like to admit. "It’s the same with music, I guess," you say quietly. "There’s this rush, this high, when you’re on stage, when everyone’s looking at you and you’re giving them everything you’ve got. But then it’s over, and you’re left with the silence, the emptiness. It’s like… who am I when it stops?"

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you can see the shared understanding in his eyes. It’s a strange comfort knowing that someone else gets it, that you’re not alone in this feeling of being lost.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the words you’ve been holding back suddenly becomes too heavy to keep inside. "I guess that's why I'm here. To escape. To escape the pressure, the expectations and…just be," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is a performance. Everything. When we're out in the world, we're expected to act a certain way, to fit into a mold. We have to edit ourselves. As honest as we try to be, there's always a part of us that remains hidden. And it's exhausting."

Cillian nods, his gaze never leaving yours. "And when you’re alone, you can let go of that and let your mind just be still," he says, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s thought about this a lot. "It’s quite peaceful, isn’t it? But it’s also… terrifying. Being alone with your thoughts, with no distractions, no one to perform for. It’s like staring into a void sometimes."

You swallow hard, the truth of his words hitting you square in the chest. "Yeah, it is. But it’s also when I feel the most myself. When it’s just me, and I don’t have to be anything for anyone. Just… here, in the quiet, letting my mind rest."

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The garden around you is alive with the soft sounds of nature—the rustling of leaves, the gentle murmur of the stream, the distant call of a bird. Bon Iver’s music still plays from your phone—Holocene.

You break the silence. "Sometimes I think about it. I think about letting go of it." It's a terrifying thought but also strangely liberating. You don't know what it means completely yet, but just saying it out loud brings relief. Cillian just looks at you, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy.

It was so easy, existing with him.

In this moment, you feel a little less lost, a little more understood. And as the sun dips lower in the sky, a mix of orange and pink hues, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you thought.

The next day dawns softer, brighter. You wake up with a sense of calm that had been missing for a while. There’s a lingering warmth from yesterday, the conversation with Cillian still playing in the back of your mind. As you sat at the same wooden table this morning, you found yourself scribbling lyrics that flowed easier, more naturally. They’re different—slower, more deliberate. There’s a depth to them that feels right, as if you’re finally tapping into something real, something honest.

Last night had ended quietly. After that heavy talk in the garden, Cillian stayed for dinner. The two of you kept the conversation light, avoiding the unspoken tension. It was there, hovering between you, but neither of you brought it up. Instead, you talked about mundane things and watched Punch-Drunk Love in the quaint living room. He pointed out every little detail he liked in it, and you listened, soaking in the emotion in his voice.

When the movie ended, he promised to see you the next day, and you reassured him it was fine, that you understood his absence. You meant it, even though a part of you always ached for more of his presence.

Today, with that newfound energy, you decided to venture out. An early morning walk turned into a drive to the nearby town. You pulled on a cap and sunglasses—a funny and somewhat ineffective disguise, but it was something. The town was charming, with narrow cobblestone streets, quaint shops, and a relaxed pace. Most people didn’t give you a second glance, and for that you were grateful. It was nice to blend in, to be just another person out enjoying the day.

You wandered through the market, admired the local crafts, and even picked up a few things—a handmade bracelet, a small painting of the Irish countryside. Lunch was at a cozy little café, tucked away from the main street. You ordered a hearty bowl of seafood chowder, rich and warming, with fresh bread on the side. As you sat there savoring the meal, your phone buzzed. It was Cillian, asking if you wanted to grab drinks tonight. You hesitated, your mind running through a dozen reasons to say no, but in the end, you agreed. You wanted to see him again, even if you couldn’t quite admit how much.

Back at the cottage, you took your time getting ready. You set the atmosphere, lighting a few candles, playing some soft music in the background. It felt good to take care of yourself and put a little effort into how you looked. You chose a pair of jeans that fit just right, a black top, and your favorite leather jacket. Casual but confident. A swipe of red lipstick added a touch of boldness.

You didn’t know where the night would take you, but you felt ready.

Cillian arrived right on time, his car rolling up the gravel drive just as you slipped on your jacket. When you stepped outside, he was already out of the car, leaning casually against the door. He smiled when he saw you—a warm, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ready?” he asked, his eyes flicking over your outfit with an appreciative glance.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, a hint of nerves bubbling up but quickly pushed aside.

The drive to the pub was easy, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your day, the town, the little things you’d picked up. He told you about his new movie coming out later this year, based on a novella set in the mid-1980s in a small Irish village. There was a comfort in the exchange, in the way your words mingled with the sound of the tires on the road.

When he pulled up outside the pub, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight. It was a small, unassuming place, the kind of spot that felt like a well-kept secret. The sign above the door was weathered, the windows glowing warmly from the inside. It looked cozy, inviting.

“Do I need to bring out my disguise?” you asked, amused, as you glanced at him.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, you’re safe here. No one’s going to bother us. I’ve been coming here for years. They don't give a shit about me.”

He was right. The pub was perfect—dimly lit, with a mix of old and new music playing in the background. The crowd was relaxed, more interested in their conversations than in who might be sitting at the next table. You found two empty stools at the bar and settled in.

Close to the drinks. Perfect.

You ordered beers—the kind that tasted awful but somehow fit the atmosphere. Cillian took a sip of his beer, and the reaction was immediate. He groaned, his head falling back as if in defeat, eyes closed as he savored—or perhaps endured—the taste. The dim light from the pub’s old-fashioned fixtures cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline and the shadow of stubble that had begun to form. His lips, still wet from the beer, parted in a wry smile that spoke volumes of his disdain for the drink. His brow furrowed slightly as he kept his eyes closed, letting out a deep, exaggerated sigh as if the beer was the worst thing he’d ever tasted.

It was a dramatic performance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how absurdly handsome he looked even in that moment. There was something endearing about it—the way he could make something so ordinary seem so intense. His dark hair, slightly tousled, fell over his forehead, and you found yourself staring longer than you meant to.

“Bloody hell, that’s awful,” he muttered, finally opening his eyes and giving you a side glance. His blue eyes sparkled with trouble, the corners crinkling as he caught the expression on your face. “You should’ve seen yourself, though. Looked like you were trying to swallow glass.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, please. You looked like you were about to keel over from one sip,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your voice.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and the amusement in his eyes deepened. “Can’t argue with that,” he admitted, taking another sip with a grimace. “Piss beer, this is. I’d almost prefer water.”

“Almost,” you teased, lifting your glass to take another drink. The foam clung to the rim as you sipped, and you made a point to keep your expression neutral, though you could feel the bitterness spreading across your tongue.

Cillian leaned in a bit closer, his Irish accent growing thicker with each drink. “But then, what would we have to complain about, eh? I think the shite beer is half the charm of this place.” His voice was smoother, more relaxed, and you noticed the way his words seemed to roll off his tongue, rich with the lilting cadence of his heritage. It was endearing, undeniably so, and you found it increasingly hard to focus on anything else.

“Is that what they call charm here? I must’ve missed the memo,” you quipped, smirking as you met his gaze. The clever back-and-forth felt natural, easy, and it warmed you more than the alcohol ever could.

“You’re lucky I’m here to explain it to ya,” he said, leaning in just a bit more, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Otherwise, you might’ve gone your whole life without knowing the joys of terrible Irish beer.”

“Oh, I’m so grateful,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your words, but your smile gave you away. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’ve taught me.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter, and you noticed how close he had gotten. His arm was now resting casually on the back of your seat, and every so often, your knees would brush, those accidental touches sending a small, electric thrill through you. The pub’s atmosphere, once filled with distant conversations and the clinking of glasses, now seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The world outside the booth blurred away, and all that was left was Cillian’s presence, the sound of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of him that mixed with the pub’s woody, earthy aroma.

The more you drank, the closer you both seemed to get, each sip loosening the barriers that had been in place. His laughter grew louder, more infectious, and his accent, more pronounced with every word, sent a shiver down your spine. It was more than just the alcohol—there was an ease between you that you hadn’t felt before, a sense of connection that went beyond the usual playful exchanges.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned in even closer. “I think I’m starting to like this beer.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk, feeling a little more brave. “Is that so? Or is it just the company?”

He chuckled, his breath warm against your ear as he replied, “Maybe a bit of both.”

A familiar flutter stirred in your chest—the undeniable pull that you’d been trying to ignore for days. But tonight, in this pub, with its terrible beer and terrible lighting, you decided you didn’t want to fight it anymore. Not here, not with him.

You moved on to something stronger, whiskey that burned going down but left a warmth spreading through your chest that felt as intoxicating as the alcohol itself. With each sip, the edges of your nerves smoothed out, and you felt looser, braver, and a little sexier. You sat on the bar stool with your body angled slightly toward Cillian. The leather of your jacket creaked as you shifted, the red of your lipstick standing out against the dim light. You felt his gaze on you, not just looking, but really seeing you, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck down to where your top dipped, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

His look was hungry, but it wasn’t just that—it was curious, intrigued. He rested his elbow on the bar, leaning closer, his knee brushing against yours as he picked up his glass, watching you over the rim as he took a sip. The whiskey seemed to bring out the blue in his eyes, making them sharp and piercing, but there was softness there too, an openness that had grown.

“You know,” you began, a small, knowing smile playing on your lips. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

His eyebrow arched in curiosity, and he leaned in a little closer, his interest piqued. “Oh yeah? That was… what, 7 years ago? At the Globes, wasn’t it?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your drink, the liquid courage giving you the confidence to broach the subject. “Yeah, that’s right. And you… well, let’s just say you weren’t exactly my biggest fan.”

Cillian looked taken aback, a surprised smile curving his lips. “What? I don’t remember it like that.”

“Oh, come on, Cill,” you said, playfully nudging his shoulder. “You kind of hated me."

He laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t hate you. I just… I guess I had some preconceived notions about you."

“Preconceived notions?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eyes.

He hesitated, looking almost sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I thought you were this… I don’t know, shallow, self-absorbed person. Just someone who was there for the attention, you know?”

You let out a mock gasp, placing a hand over your heart in faux offense. “I’m wounded! I can’t believe you thought that about me, really.”

He chuckled, but there was a hint of regret in his voice as he added, “But I was wrong. I figured that out pretty quickly.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, leaning in a little closer, your voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “When exactly did you figure that out?”

“The first time we really talked,” he said, his voice equally soft, the words carrying a weight they hadn’t before. “After I saw you in the hall, crying. I don't know. You were so real, and I realized you weren’t what I thought. Not even close.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Wow, so I had to have a full-on breakdown just to convince you I wasn’t a shallow, self-absorbed diva? Good to know, Cill. I’ll make sure to cry more often around you.”

He laughed, bringing his fingertips to his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Not quite what I meant, but I guess it did the trick, didn’t it?”

You remembered that night vividly, how everything had seemed to spiral downward so quickly. “I was having the worst night,” you said laughing, a slight bitterness creeping into your tone as the memories resurfaced. “I’d just been dumped by the world’s biggest asshole that morning, and then there you were, tearing down everything I said with some esoteric joke.”

Cillian winced slightly, the regret more pronounced now. “Yeah… I wasn’t exactly charming, was I?”

“You were a bit of a jerk,” you admitted, but there was no malice in your words. “But you made up for it with that burger offer.”

A grin spread across his face as he remembered. “I wasn’t sure you’d say yes.”

“Well, I figured a burger with you was better than sulking alone,” you replied, smiling at the memory. “And it was. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was exactly what I needed.”

His expression softened. “I’m glad I asked, then.”

The bartender interrupted your conversation to ask if you wanted another round, and without a second thought, you both nodded in agreement. It seemed neither of you were ready to call it a night. The place was warmer now. As you waited for your drinks, your eyes drifted to the ceiling. Neil Young's "Harvest Moon" played softly in the background, the gentle melody weaving through the low murmur of conversation.

You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that a few couples had begun to dance, swaying gently to the music. There was something so natural, so easy about it, that you couldn’t resist the urge that bubbled up inside you. Turning back to Cillian, who was taking a sip of his drink, you couldn’t help but smile. “Come on,” you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Dance with me.”

Cillian raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. He muttered something in reply but you couldn’t quite make it out. It only made you more determined.

“I didn’t catch that,” you teased, leaning in closer as if trying to decipher his words. “But I know what you’re going to say.”

“Oh, do you, piano woman?” he shot back, his tone light but with a challenging edge.

“Yes,” you said, grinning. “You’re going to say that you don’t dance.”

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “You’re right about that. I don’t.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low, persuasive tone. “I know, but you’ll indulge me anyway.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. Then, with a small, resigned sigh, he downed the rest of his drink in one go and set the glass back on the bar with a decisive thud. Before you could react, he grabbed your hand and stood up, pulling you along with him.

It caught you by surprise, the suddenness of it, especially considering he had just insisted he wasn’t the dancing type. As he led you toward the makeshift dance floor, he leaned in and said with a grin, “You’re lucky I like you.”

You laughed, a loud, genuine sound that felt as freeing as the night itself. “Oh, am I now?”

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, because otherwise, there’s no way I’d be making a fool of myself like this.”

You shot back with a playful, “Well, let’s see just how much of a fool you really are, then.”

As you reached the space where others were already swaying to the music, Cillian took your hand and pulled you in close. You could feel the warmth of his body, the solidity of his frame as he moved with you, the two of you finding a rhythm that was surprisingly in sync. It wasn’t anything fancy—just simple, slow movements to match the easy tempo of the song—but it felt intimate, like you were the only two people in the room.

Cillian leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Did you know I'm a failed musician?”

You couldn’t help but smirk, the alcohol loosening your tongue.

“Failed, huh? So, what happened? Couldn’t hack it with the rest of us rockstars?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. "Something like that. I was in a band, actually."

You leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. “You? In a band? Color me shocked.”

It was kind of hot, imagining him on stage with a guitar in hand.

"We even had a record deal and everything."

"What happened?"

Cillian’s expression softened as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of nostalgia. “My brother was still in school at the time, and my parents basically told me I could fuck up my life if I wanted, but I couldn’t take him down with me. So, it fell through.”

As you continued to sway together, the story of his past unraveled between you, each word carrying a hint of regret mixed with fond memories. “Those were great times, though,” he continued, his eyes distant as if he were seeing it all again. “I’d be out late, drinking, playing music in small pubs, thinking we were going to make it big. It was a bit of a rush, you know?”

You could imagine him there, young and reckless, with that same intensity in his eyes that he carried now, but wilder, untamed by the years. “So music was your first love, then?” you asked, your voice soft, genuinely curious.

He nodded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, I suppose it was. I had been playing instruments since I was little. There’s something about it that just… gets into your blood. But then, acting came along."

“When exactly did you know that's what you wanted?” you asked, wanting to peel back more layers of him.

His smile turned almost bashful, as if recalling a secret he hadn’t shared in a while. “There was this guy who ran the Cork theater company—had a huge man crush on him. He was brilliant, and I ended up doing a workshop with him. After that, I just pestered him for an audition until he gave in.”

You chuckled softly at the thought of a young Cillian, determined and probably a bit of a nuisance, chasing after something he wanted so badly. “And that was it?”

“Well, there was a drama module in school when I was about 16, 17—during the transition year. That’s when I first got the bug. Ended up starring in A Clockwork Orange. It was sexy, dangerous, unlike anything I’d ever seen. I loved playing someone else, losing myself in the character.”

He paused, then flashed a self-deprecating grin. “There’s not much to look at, but if you give me a minute…"

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his modesty. “You’re selling yourself short,” you teased, leaning in closer, your bodies moving in sync to the music. "Cill, you literally have an Oscar."

“Ah, the Oscar... just a glorified doorstop, really,” he quipped, his tone light but with that familiar undercurrent of humility.

"It's the work that matters, blah blah blah," you joked, rolling your eyes playfully. His eyes were crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Exactly," he agreed, before pulling you into a twirl.

"Do you miss it? you ask, hands circling his neck as you sway. "Music, I mean."

Cillian blew out a slow breath, his eyes growing thoughtful as he considered your question. “Sometimes,” he admitted. "But life has a way of taking you where you need to be, not where you want to be.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warm and heavy, as you mulled them over. Is this where I need to be? The question echoed in your mind, reverberating through the deeper corners of your thoughts. You weren’t sure you had an answer. You were a successful artist, living the dream so many could only imagine, but there was always that lingering sense of something missing, a quiet ache that you couldn’t quite place.

Where do I need to be?

The thought spiraled, unfurling like an endless thread, pulling at the edges of your consciousness. You started questioning everything—your choices, your path, the very essence of who you were. Those words seemed to tap into something deep inside, a reservoir of doubts and desires that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, almost like you were talking to yourself more than to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you, swaying slowly. See, this is the thing about Cillian, he had a way of making you feel seen and understood, even when you didn't fully understand yourself, even without saying a single word.

The warmth of Cillian's arm around you, the subtle way he moved—it all felt so natural, like this was where you were supposed to be. But then, the memory of four nights ago crept in—the way his breath had hitched as you said you weren't going to stop him from going further, the tension that crackled between you both like a live wire.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Heat flushed through your body, a dizzying sensation that made it hard to focus on anything other than the way he was looking at you. A knot formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing pulse.

The memory was like a current running through you, making you hyper-aware of every point of contact with him. The room suddenly felt too small, too warm. Your mind was swirling with thoughts, the alcohol making you bolder, more aware of the things left unsaid.

"I can't stop thinking about what almost happened the other day."

“What almost happened?”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, his lips dangerously nuzzled in your hair. “Don’t play coy with me, love. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach, the way your body reacted to his nearness. “I’ve tried to stop thinking about it,” he continued, his voice a hushed murmur that only you could hear, “but I can’t.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. You wanted to let go of the restraint you’d been holding onto all night, but you were still aware of where you were, of the people around you—even if they weren’t paying you any attention. The thought of crossing that line, right here in the middle of the pub, was both thrilling and terrifying.

But Cillian, sensing your hesitation, didn’t push.

Finally, he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression serious but laced with that familiar smirk. “Wanna head out of here?” he asked, his voice low but with a note of urgency.

You didn’t need to think twice. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could stop it.

The night air hit you like a shock to the system as you stepped outside, the cool breeze carrying with it the faint scent of rain. The streets were quieter now, the lively noise of the pub fading into the background. You were drunk, the world tilting slightly with each step, and neither of you could drive.

Cillian pulled out his phone, his fingers deftly dialing the number for a cab. You watched him as he made the call, the way his jaw tensed slightly as he spoke, his voice low and calm despite the alcohol humming through his veins. There was something undeniably attractive about the way he carried himself, even in this moment of mundane practicality.

“What about your car?” you asked, your words slightly slurred but still coherent.

He glanced over at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll pick it up in the morning,” he replied smoothly, his accent curling around the words in that familiar, endearing way. “Don’t worry, love.”

The cab arrived not long after, the headlights cutting through the night as it pulled up to the curb. Cillian opened the door for you, and the two of you slid into the backseat, sitting close together but not touching. Not yet. The space between you crackled with unspoken tension, the thrill of anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

You found yourself playing with your ring-clad fingers, the cool metal a small distraction as the silence stretched out between you. The driver turned up the music a bit, and the opening chords of Inhaler’s "Dublin in Ecstasy" filled the car. The song was somehow fitting, its pulsing beat and haunting lyrics adding to the electric atmosphere.

It started to rain, the droplets tapping against the windows and turning them foggy, adding a sense of intimacy to the small, enclosed space. The outside world became a blur of lights and shadows, the city fading away as the cab sped through the streets. You could feel Cillian’s gaze on you, the weight of it almost tangible as you sat there, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

You turned to look at him, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The music became more intoxicating, the beat syncing with the rapid thudding of your heart. He noticed you bopping your head slightly to the rhythm, and a small, surprised smile crossed his face.

“You know this?” he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

You smirked, leaning back against the seat as you replied with playful confidence, “I know every song ever made, actually.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Is that so? A human jukebox, then?”

“Something like that,” you teased, the conversation light but charged with something more, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

The cab’s interior felt smaller, more suffocating as you neared your destination. When you finally arrived at his place, Cillian paid the driver, and the two of you got out, raising your jackets over your heads to shield from the rain, which had grown heavier. You both ran to the entrance, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night as you giggled like teenagers, the spontaneity of it all making you feel light, carefree.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment, the sound of metal clinking against metal filling the air before he managed to unlock the door. You stepped inside, the warmth of the house a stark contrast to the chill of the rain outside. The living room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint glow of the night sky through the large windows. The shadows played across the walls, casting everything in a soft, almost ethereal light.

You tossed off your jacket, letting it fall to the floor, your clothes clinging to your skin from the rain. You could feel the fabric sticking to your body, the dampness making you shiver slightly, but the heat in the room—and the heat between the two of you—kept you from feeling cold. Cillian wandered off somewhere for a moment, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited, the anticipation almost unbearable.

When he returned, his eyes locked onto yours, a predatory glint in his gaze that made your breath hitch. He took a step closer, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing as he asked, his voice low and laced with a hint of something dangerous, “What should we do now?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you felt a rush of heat flood through you, your pulse quickening. You moved toward him, your steps slow and deliberate, closing the gap until you were inches away. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly despite the bravado in your words.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your cheek before trailing down to remove a stray piece of hair stuck to your face. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent sparks of electricity through your skin, making you feel like you were on fire. His hand continued its path down your arm, and you followed it with your eyes, watching as his fingers traced the outline of your veins, the simple action making your breath catch in your throat.

He moved his hand up to your shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the strap of your top before slowly sliding it down, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a mix of desire and something else—something that felt like shame, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It felt too good, too right.

His hand slid up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful as he held you there, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. You clung to his black t-shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric as you tried to steady yourself, but the room seemed to spin around you, the intensity of the moment making you dizzy.

Cillian’s eyes bore into yours, his expression dark and filled with an unspoken promise as he whispered, his voice rough and filled with desire, “Tell me what you want.”

You wanted him—every part of him. You wanted to forget everything else, to lose yourself in this moment, to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for days. And as his grip tightened slightly on your neck, pulling you closer until your lips were just a breath away from his, you knew there was no turning back.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

So he did. He kissed you, long and slow. His lips were soft yet urgent, and you melted into his touch. Your hands found their way to his damp hair, tangling in the strands as you deepened the kiss, savoring every moment. His breath mingled with yours, warm and laced with the faint taste of whiskey, his hands still cradling your face as if you were something fragile, something to be cherished.

But then the kiss deepened, the restraint unraveling as the need between you grew too powerful to contain. His hands slid from your face down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. The kiss became more urgent, more demanding, as if he was trying to consume you, to lose himself in you. You responded in kind, your own hands gripping his t-shirt, pulling him closer, wanting more—needing more. The heat between you intensified, the tenderness giving way to something hotter, something that felt like it had been a long time coming.

The rain continued to patter softly against the windows, a distant sound that seemed to fade into the background as your focus narrowed to just him—to the way his hands gripped your waist, to the way his breath hitched when you bit down softly on his lower lip.

You started moving backward, the need to feel him against you overwhelming any thought of where this might be going. Your feet stumbled slightly as you both moved toward the couch, the dim light from the windows casting your entwined shadows across the floor. He guided you, his hands firm and sure, but there was a tenderness in the way he led you, as if he was still holding back, still trying to keep a grasp on the control that was slipping away.

You reached the edge of the couch, and he paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he looked at you, his chest heaving with the effort to catch his breath. “You're in control here,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, thick with the weight of the question, with the possibility of what was about to happen. "We stop whenever you want to, okay?"

Ever so polite, you thought. You answered him by pulling him down with you, your lips finding his again with a renewed urgency. The cushions gave way beneath you, the soft fabric enveloping you both as you sank into it. His body pressed against yours, the weight of him grounding you.

As the kiss deepened, became more frantic, more desperate, you could feel the tension in him—the barely restrained control he was struggling to maintain. His hands roamed over your body, landing on your jeans and slowly playing with the button, a silent request for permission.

"Don't stop now," you teased, your voice barely audible against his lips. He responded by deepening the kiss even further, his hands moving with purpose as he unbuttoned your jeans. He stopped for a moment, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, his hands taking off your shoes before sliding your jeans down your legs. He positioned himself between your legs once again, kissing you rough this time.

The couch was vast and soft underneath you as one of his hands traveled up your thigh—still not as high as you wanted it. You let out a needy moan, encouraging him. When his fingers brushed against the edge of your already wet panties, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. He pushed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours. When his fingertips made contact with the wetness of your folds, he groaned too, in a way you found very satisfying.

"I've thought about this…a lot," he murmured, slipping a finger inside you, making you gasp with pleasure. "What you might sound like. What you might taste like. What you might feel like."

He pulled away from you swiftly, and you moaned at the loss. He kneeled down in front of you, his gaze intense as he leaned in to kiss your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine. He pulled down your panties. You went stiff, suddenly aware of how exposed you were. He opened your thighs a little more, as if he wanted to see more. "I want to make you feel good," he whispered. "Let me taste you."

"Yes," you breathed out.

You couldn't stop looking at him as he pleasured you, his touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. Each flick of his tongue and gentle bite made you arch your back in ecstasy, completely lost in the moment. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. He groaned in pleasure, and you opened your thighs wider. His tongue was thorough and deliberate, exploring every inch of you with precision. Your hands grabbed the couch cushions, trying to ground yourself as you felt yourself spiraling into pure bliss. And just when you started to roll your hips, he slid two fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you gasp and moan uncontrollably.

It was too much. Pleasure consumed you as you arched your back violently against his touch and you moaned his name over and over again, letting go. You were drunk on him— his touch, his mouth, his scent—lost in the euphoria of the moment.

"Fuckin' incredible."

Well, yes, fucking incredible indeed. But not as incredible as it would feel to have him inside you completely, filling every inch of you. To reduce him to the whimpering mess he had just turned you into.

Before Cillian could do anything, you sat up and pushed him flat to the floor. You were both drunk and too eager to make it to the bedroom, so you might as well just do it right there on the living room rug.

He grunted in surprise, but his hands quickly found their way to your hips as you straddled him, pulling you closer. You removed your top, your breasts spilling out as you leaned down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as you pull away from his mouth, pulling his black t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

He stopped breathing as you worked your way down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles until you reached the waistband of his jeans. Your hands made quick work of the button and zipper, and you eagerly slid them down his legs, revealing his growing arousal.

When your fingers wrapped around it—fuck—his skin felt hot and smooth against your touch, his breath hitching. You positioned yourself to take him in your mouth, savoring the taste of his desire as you licked a slow, teasing path along his cock. Cillian let out a ragged moan, his hands tangling in your hair.

You lifted your eyes. He had propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with his lips parted, pupils blown.

You had him.

You took him deeper, relishing the way he arched into your mouth, his groans spurring you on. With each flick of your tongue, you could feel him losing control, surrendering to the pleasure you were giving him. "Fuck, stop," he gasped, his voice strained with need. "I need to be inside you."

“Condom?” you asked, the question hanging in the thick air between you.

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice rough, almost pleading.

You hesitated for just a second. “I don’t mind… if you don’t.”

For a moment, he froze, his blue eyes darkening as they searched yours, as if to make sure he’d heard you right. Then, with a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, he nodded.

You released him with a smirk and sat up, swung over him. You positioned yourself so that his hands were on your hips, guiding you down onto him. The anticipation was electric, every nerve in your body alive with the need to be closer to him, to feel him, completely and without anything between you.

As you sank onto him, his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a low moan escaping from both of you. The feeling of being filled by him sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire between you that burned hotter with each thrust. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you matched his rhythm, lost in the intensity of the moment.

This was going to end you.

His movements became more urgent, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered your name. The room was filled with the sound of your mingled gasps and moans, a symphony of pleasure that seemed to echo off the walls. He felt so good, so right. His thrusts became more deep and harsh—you wanted even more. As if he read your mind, he sat up against the couch and kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Bloody hell," he murmured against your lips, both his hands grabbed your face as he looked deeply into your eyes, and you circled your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and circling your hips in rhythm with his. Your breasts pressed against his chest, the heat between you both rising as your bodies moved in perfect synchronization. He was close—you were close. His hands roamed your back, your ass, and your breasts, and you threw your head back when his mouth found its way to your nipples.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, "Yes, oh—" you screamed as white-hot pleasure shot through your body, causing you both to reach the peak of ecstasy together. You felt his cock swell, filling you completely as he released with a guttural groan.

The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, bodies entwined in a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He had leaned back to the floor, and you had gone with him. He was rubbing your back, and your face was pressed to his chest.

"You okay, love?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You hummed, feeling content and safe in his arms, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You stayed like that for a moment, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you, the quiet rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours. His fingers kept tracing those gentle patterns on your back, grounding you, reminding you that you were still here, still connected. The afterglow wrapped around you both, a warmth that made you feel safe, cherished. You could still feel him inside you.

“How bad would it be if we just stayed here?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the moment. There was a part of you that didn’t want to move, didn’t want to break the spell.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest, and you could feel the rumble against your cheek. “Well, love,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, “I’m not sure how comfortable the floor will be in about twenty minutes, but I’d say it’s worth a try if you are.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Fair point,” you conceded, shifting slightly to look up at him. His eyes were warm, a little teasing, but there was an underlying tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said gently, his hands sliding down your sides as he carefully helped you up. “Let’s get cleaned up. I promise the bed is much more inviting.”

He rose to his feet, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted, your legs feeling a little shaky as you stood, still a bit lightheaded from everything that had just happened. His hands lingered on your hips, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the care in his touch.

Together, you made your way upstairs, his arm draped around your shoulders as he guided you toward his bedroom. The space was warm, cozy, with a lived-in feel that made it undeniably his. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled, as if he’d just gotten out of it before coming to find you.

He led you to the bathroom, where the soft glow of a single light illuminated the space. He turned on the shower, testing the water temperature before gesturing for you to step inside. You did, letting the hot water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the night, though the memory of it clung to your skin. He joined you a moment later, his hands gentle as he helped you rinse off, his touch tender, almost reverent. You stood under the water together, letting the steam envelope you both.

When you were both clean, he handed you a towel, wrapping another around his waist. He left the bathroom for a moment and returned with a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, offering them to you.

“Here,” he said with a soft smile. “This will do.”

You took the clothes, slipping them on. The fabric was soft, worn in, and it smelled like him—woodsy, with a hint of something earthy and warm. You found yourself breathing it in, the scent comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

When you were both dressed, he led you to the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside you. He held the blanket up for you, and you slid in next to him, the cool sheets a welcome contrast to the warmth of his body. He immediately pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your waist as you nestled into his side, your head resting on his chest once more.

The room was dark, but the faint light from outside filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. You could hear the rain still pattering against the window, a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy between you. His hand found yours under the covers, fingers intertwining as he held you close, his breath warm against your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, steady and reassuring, and it lulled you into a state of deep relaxation.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you knew he heard you. You don't know for what exactly you were thanking him, but it felt like the right thing to say in that moment.

He responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

You didn’t need to say anything more. The silence between you was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. You both knew that tonight had changed something between you, something profound and unnameable, but for now, it was enough to just be here, together.

a/n: there you have it, i hope you guys liked it!! please like, reblog and comment. i wanna hear your thoughts! and as always, thank you for the support <3

[purpurkatart]

Hello! After having some time to get over my loss for the Pokemon TCG Illustration contest, I decided to write up a small blog entry about the process and include some WIP pictures. Feel free to look below if you want to read my ramblings on the process.

Idea Generarion-

So coming into this contest, I knew I wanted to make a mixed media piece. In terms of theming I chose something that not only reflected a “magical moment” for a Pokemon (in this case meeting a legendary Pokemon), but also a moment when playing the games myself. In fact this piece was inspired by my awe when I first encountered a box legendary in game, as before I thought my teacher was lying to me when he said you can catch the legendary on the box!

This is the concept sketch that started it all! At the time my main concern was getting ideas down and seeing how they looked. Thinking about things like how would the composition would look, how would the colours look. So on and so forth.

I didn’t want to focus too much on the sketch and wanted to start making the physical object, so out of some cheap paper I started making a set up testing out size, scale, composition. I didn’t want to get too attached to the original sketches only to realise I couldn’t make it in real life… I went though a few drafts trying to get things right, slowly adding in aspects such as background objects and higher quality drawings.

After completing the draft I bought the images back into procreate to experiment with colours. This is the point where I made the mistake of thinking I had plenty of colours to choose from, not realising I would be limited by what I could buy from various yarn shops. That or hope I could find the right colour online, but that was always a gamble. If I don’t stop talking about this now I’ll get sidetracked talking about how much I miss yarn shops…

Anyways, I cut out the individual pieces that I would make within the background and used them as a guide for crochet assets. For this part I wanted to use different stitches to create textures such as the ripple stitch, bobble stich and some cable stitches, I feel bad as I never took any work in progress photo so of them. Let’s pretend you’re looking at a photo of a half finished crochet abstract shape.

Finally onto the main event, the Pikachu (and Suicune). The decision to make Pikachu a plush was based on what I would have liked to make for the 2022 illustration contest (if I wasn’t geographically challenged!!) Despite being British I decided it would be fun to make anyways, so I could experiment. I never got around to that but decided it would be fun to try for this edition.

Making the pattern was HARD! As I wanted Pikachu to have a unique pose, I had to work out different methods to plush i’ve made in the past which have been somewhat relaxed in their posing. I ultimately ended up making each part individually, pinning it together and then making adjustments as needed. It didn’t start out great however I ended up with this weird Pikachu shaped thing that did the job. Throughout this process I would regularly photograph it in the background to try and catch any issues early on. For example if the ground needed to be a different shape.

Photographing the final price was interesting. I felt bad for my partner as I essentially turned my dining table into a mini photography studio! I spent several days waiting for different lighting opportunities and experimenting with different light. Marking down different camera angles to ensure I have all of my bases covered. I easily took over 100 photos to get the perfect shot! In the below photo you can see washi tape being used to rest out different positions for the sculptures.

And that leads me to the peice! Even though i’m sad I didn’t make the top 300, I am pleased with the work I did for this piece (and my flygon entry too!). I’m glad I decided to experiment with ts peice and look forward to refining my methods in the near future!

[dilfl0v3rss]

I give you..

Bsf!Ony who claims he’s, “only friends” with you but will fuck ts outta you the second you start acting out

WAITTTTTT YOU ATE THIS UPPPPP😩😛😩

ony is the possessive type so it’s very likely that this would have to do with another boy. he was at your apartment, eating all your snacks as he watched tv on the couch. you walked out of your room dressed up for your date. “how i look?” ony looked up from the tv, eyeing you up and down before giving you a small nod. “look nice.” he grumbled. he did not approve of this at all. rolling your eyes, you walking in front of him, restricting his view of the tv.

“why you hatin’? you should be happy i’m finally getting a boyfriend.” his jaw clenched at your words. boyfriend? tf you need a boyfriend for when you got your best friend? it’s not like a boyfriend could do any more for you than he’s already doing anyway. buying you stuff, driving you to work, comforting you whenever you needed, and fucking the shit outta you when you wanted. ony was the whole package for you so the fact that you were trying to get a man was a slap in the face to him.

little did he know, you were only doing this to get a rise out of him. you’ve wanted to be with this man since y’all were in high school, but neither of you were bold enough to ask the other out, so you labeled your little situation as being best friends to keep the other from feeling uncomfortable. “these niggas not good for you suge. they can’t protect you like i can.” you rolled your eyes at the stupid nickname.

since your parents liked to call you sugar when you were little, ony decided to use the name as well, sometimes shortening it as suge. “boy the only reason you saying that is because you scared the last three off with those stupid guns.” a smirk planted itself on ony’s face, grills peaking from behind his lips as he stared up at you with low eyes. “if they running from this then who knows what else they gon run from. feel me?” he lifted up his shirt to show you his glock 19 tucked in his waistband.

you couldn’t help but get a little wet at the action, eyes glued to his inked torso and chest as he kept rambling about how pussy the guys you fuck with are. “you see sum you like mama? see you drooling a little over there.” long fingers gripped the bottom of you face, pulling you towards him for a kiss. you quickly pulled away before walking back to your room. “no. i don’t ‘feel you’ and i wont be feeling you for awhile. gon start saving this pussy for my new man.”

his head snapped towards you before getting up and following you inside your bedroom. “the fuck you mean ‘saving’ my pussy? you not giving it away. must be crazy.” ony laid on your bed, tank top riding up his toned stomach as he leaned on his elbows. is this nigga crazy? tf he mean “his pussy”? last time you checked yall wasn’t dating so this pussy belongs to nobody but you. “wanna bet?” you didn’t notice you were voicing your thoughts out loud, but you still didn’t back down. “boy please. you know better.”

“f-fuckkk ohhmygoddd.” you were face down in the sheets, strong hand in your hair as the other was at your lower back. ony was beating your shit in, thumb curved into your puckering hole as he fed you quick deep strokes in your pussy. the date you were supposed to be on long forgotten as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. “who pussy dis is mama?” squelching noises could be heard from all the way in the living room as he continued pounding away at your pussy.

“mmits ursss onyyy.” his heavy hand moved from your hair to leave a hard slap on your ass. the skin instantly heating up from the contact. “say my name right baby. who’s is it?” his pace grew as well as his anger. body roughly jolting, wrinkling up your sheets to the point where they were snapping off your mattress. “it’s y-yours daddy. it’s a-alllll yours fuckkkk.” you moaned. ony couldn’t help but smile, taking his thumb out your backside so he can kiss up your back.

you were his and his alone, and until you understood that he was going to fuck you as hard as he could to keep you from even thinking of going anywhere with another man. his mouth stopped right next to your ear, breathing steadily as if your tight pussy didn’t phase him at all. “that’s right mama. this daddy’s pussy.”

[zapernz]

hello, back at it again with another request <333

sub!sam monroe with an alternative dom!reader? like eyeliner, edgy music, piercings, the works

reader absolutely degrades the fuck out of poor sam and perhaps overstimulates him?? i mean he did cum from literally just kissing in the film so it does not take much to make the poor boy riled the hell up

i’m sorry if this is weirdly specific or too broad, this is purely self-insert for me as an alternative girlie whose spirit animal is sam monroe

⋆sugar honey ice & tea⋆

as an alternative girly i catch the vibes

nsfw; heavy degradation, dracyphilla, handjob, overstimulation, use of “bitch” “whore” “slut”

a few months ago sam decided to brat out big time which resulted in you giving him a lesson by giving him a new rule - that he cant get off without your help, which leads us tonight.

you sit on the edge of your bed, finally taking off your platform boots, standing back up to your dresser taking off your various necklaces and bracelets.

your phone buzzes, it’s ts sam texting you. what on earth does he want at 1:28am?.

you open the text from sam that reads “need your help”, you smirk to yourself and respond with a simple, “come here then.”

you swear it hadn’t even been five minutes when your door bursts open, you look at him, panting, flushed, and a prominent outline in his pants. “oh baby, cmere”, it takes him a moment to process your words but once he does he slams the door behind him and immediately sits down on the bed.

when you dont immediately start kissing him he looks at you and pouts “please”. you usher him so he’s lying down comfortably, and so you can straddle him. he lets out a whimper at the feeling of you sitting on him.

you start putting your hands under his black shirt, making him shiver from the cold rings on his hot body. you pull the shirt over his head, and immediately start kissing his neck, he starts squirming, he can’t hold on this long, he held on all day. you pitch his nipple making him whine, “stop squirming bitch”. you start harshly sucking on his sweet spot making him moan out “please”.

ignoring his plea, you start moving down to his collarbones, leaving marks here and there, you make your way down to the top of his pants. holding your fingers over the button of his jeans looking up at him until he mumbles an, “off”. you get his jeans off just leaving him in his boxers, with a clear precum stain, you chuckle, “what do we have here hm?” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to somehow avoid you. “jesus you’re hard as a rock sam.” you move your hand to run it over his dick sitting uncomfortably hard in his boxers, he whines “please”.

in one quick motion you remove his boxers, running one finger lightly up his shaft, making it twitch, you hold your palm up to his mouth, “spit”, he spits into your palm. “you’re a dirty little thing sam.” you say, as you move your hand back down and finally wrap your fist around his aching dick. he hisses and throws his head back, you start to jerk him off quickly, making him jolt. you slow down your movements giving him a moment to breathe before speeding up again. “f-fuck” he cries out.

you use your spare hand to push on the bruises you made earlier, making him wince. “you like that dont you? such a little slut for me, arent you?” his fists are gripping the sheets, his chest is all red, along with his face. “are you gonna be a good little whore for me sam?” he starts nodding frantically unable to form a coherent sentence. “show me how good then. cum for me.” at this he lets out an absolutely whoreish moan, and cums hard, painting your fist white, he’s letting out breathy moans and whimpers as you stroke him through it.

you leave a kiss on his hip bone as you keep stroking him, his legs start shaking, and he looks at you pleading, his eyes begin to tear up at the overstimulation hits him. “be a good slut for me sam, you can give me another one.” he starts shaking his head in disagreement, you grab his chin with your free hand, “it doesnt matter what you want, youre gonna give it to me, because thats what whores like you do.”

the tears fall out of his eyes, the eyeliner that was once on his eyes, is now falling down his cheeks, staining them.

he lets out a hiss as you swipe your thumb across the tip, “oh- im” his dick starts twitching, legs start shaking even more, with your free hand you grab one of his, letting him hold onto you. he starts letting out incoherent babbles, and you squeeze his hand. “you can do it sam, cmon give it to me” and with that, he’s cumming for a second time, moaning, whimpering, whining, the whole lot.

[tteokdoroki]

im thinking about jock bf yuuji taking reader out on a beach date (during the day) ts would be so cute

stop this would be so adorable :( imagine yuuji driving you to the beach in his jeep and sticking his head out of the window like a doggie to make you laugh!!! you pack a lil cooler of your favourite snacks n fresh fruits which yuuji carries down onto the beach while holding your hand to make sure you don’t slip in the sand :(!!

stop and and he doesn’t let you sit down until he’s spread out the blanket so your sundress doesn’t get dirty and practically begs you to put on his sunscreen because he loves it when you touch him (just likes to have your hands on him)!!

please imagine him chasing away seagulls from your food and then letting you feed him strawberries while you sunbath :( him licking the strawberry juice from your fingertips !!

also i feel like yuuji would be so blushy seeing you in your swim suit / bikini :(!!! racing you to the water and carrying you bridal style into the sea because it’s cold and he wants to gradually lower you in !!! your arms looped around his neck just admiring his golden skin the sun cause he’s so handsome <33 he wouldn’t dare splash you unless you wanted him too, but for the most part you stand in the water with your legs around his waist and the waves just lapping at your back :(!! feels good to have yuuji’s hands on your waist, they’re super warm through your swimsuit despite how cold the water is <3

yuuji would have planned the whole beach day to get you out of the dorm and away from studying because he knows you work so hard to get good grades n he doesn’t want you to put too much pressure on yourself!!!

[pinkaditty]

Tokyo Debunker Headcanons

so. im insane LMFAOOOOOO but no seriously. im not even gonna elaborate. im posting these strictly as an interest check bc if anyone's interested ill keep posting them.

Body Type/Various Measurements Tokyo Debunker hcs:

FROSTHEIM ONLY (interest check!)

a/n: hihi as most of my consistent readers know, i am a biomed major and work in a med field. i love human anatomy. i couldn’t resist the urge to do this once i noticed that Lucas has a wider and taller frame than Kaito. it’s soso interesting i was just like “oh wait, lucas looks… larger than kaito?” and then i confirmed he was, his shoulders were broader and his waistline, albeit proportional, was wider. it’s so interesting. i had to. sorry!

cw: ??? hcs i guess! not trying 2 be insensitive but if u have an ed and seeing weights triggers u or something don't look at this post. i think that's it? oh also ts is not proofread i fear! i spat this out on paper and decided it was good 2 go!

MINORS DNI THESE HCS INCLUDE NSFW THINGS!! THANK YOU!!

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING HCS:

note that the measurements may be misleading: for example, a waistline that is several inches smaller than bust or hip does not imply an hourglass shape unless specified. smaller waistline is proportionate to larger bust and hip, provides “normal” rather than “hourglass”. waistline larger or in similar value to bust or hip also does not imply overweight unless specified. subject may have different body type (i.e. pear or triangular), which consists of a larger waistline while still appearing lean (used a body visualizer, so feel free to input the values into one to better see my vision!). i did use a bmi calculator for this, but it is important to note that while some may appear obese or overweight based on weight, these boys have been trained for combat and usually consist of high muscle composition, which weighs more in less quantities than fat. either that, or they’re just unusually tall with a higher body mass and are inevitably going to weigh more. as for penis length: as much as we all appreciate monster cocks, i wanted to make this as realistic as possible. in japan, the penis length is generally equivalent to 7.9% of the body height. most, if not all lengths here, are based off of the values calculated. for our sakes, though, i rounded up a little teehee!!!! and i will admit, some of them i increased a little bit to fit my specific interpretation of the characters (specifically, the tall ones; for example, Tohma landed at around 6in like Jin, but i gave him 7in to account for some diversity in endowment + i jus feel like he'd be longer LOL). girth and other proportions are based purely in my own speculation. 

Jin Kamurai: Height is abt 6’2, so taller than average, but not super tall. Weight is abt 187 lbs or 84.8218 kg (not much muscle definition, but strong core and muscular arms needed to wield heavy sword), 40in underbust circumference, 30in waist, 42in hip. Triangular body type.

Excess notes: Upturned eyes, sharp nose, strongly defined cupid’s bow lips. Broad, unusually flexible shoulders. Hands are long and slender, wrists unusually small. Flatter than a wooden board in the back. Thighs and calves not very well-trained, but strong enough to give him a good base for combat. Penis length 6in, not particularly girthy or lengthy. Happy trail is present but almost invisible, silver hair against white skin relatively hard to spot. Keeps it hairy but does trim occasionally. 

Tohma Ishibashi: Height is around 6’1.5, taller than average. Weight is around 185 lbs or 83.9146 kg (enough muscle definition to be skilled in combat and wield axe, that and generally large height explain larger weight), 39in underbust, 29in waist, 42in hip. Rectangular body type.

Excess notes: Straight almond eyes, long straight nose, regular cupid’s bow lips. Long neck, very pronounced collarbones. Palms especially wide, fingers long and slender. Does not have much of an ass to work with I fear. Similar to Jin in that calves and thighs aren’t well-trained, but good enough to provide a strong base for axe-swinging. Penis length 7in, more in length than girth. Slight curve to the right. Well trimmed, no happy trail. 

Lucas Errant: Height is around 6’, taller than average, but not super tall. Weight is around 213 lbs or 96.6152 kg (large muscle definition despite being shorter, which is why he weighs more), 42in underbust, 30in waist, 46in hip. Hourglass body type.

Excess notes: I hc him to be mixed Jamaican/British + suffers from Acrofacial vitiligo (spots appear typically on face around openings, but in his case it appears on the back of his head which causes the lighter hair color there; has light spots on inner eye, under nose, and on hands, feet, and genital area). Wide, upturned eyes, small pronounced button nose, thicker lips with slight cupid’s bow. Broad shoulders. Hands thicker but wider, very heavy-handed. Has largest ass in Frostheim. Thighs and calves very well-trained, less likely to lose balance than Jin or Tohma during combat. Penis length 6.5in (used a different avg, as he’s not japanese but jamaican), thicker than usual, some varicose vein, slight left curvature. Likes to upkeep happy trail. Doesn’t trim often.

Kaito Fuji: Height is around 5’10, closer to average height. Weight is around 134 lbs or 60.7814 kg (not much muscle definition, gets minimal exercise, has defined core for archery’s sake), 34 in underbust, 28in waist, 36in hip. Rectangular body type.

Excess notes: Wide upturned cat-like eyes, sharp upturned nose, thin upper lip, bottom lip typical size. Long neck, pronounced bone structure (slightly visible spine). Hands are small and slender. Comparable to Jin in that he doesn’t have much of an ass, but isn’t quite as flat as Jin. Has more core strength than thigh or calf strength, but can establish an okay base for archery. Penis length is 5.5in, somewhat thick. Light happy trail and doesn’t grow much pubic hair. 

i want u all 2 be honest with me... am i insane 4 doing this LMFAOAOAOAOAOOO

need 2 find a new roommate bc this one keeps egging me on like "ok u ate with these descriptions" like yes thank u hype man!!!! im gonna get full of myself if u keep saying this shit

anyways. i hope you all enjoyed! im honestly not expecting this 2 do numbers but if anyone wants me 2 continue then i will!! im also working on requests in the background so things may take longer to pump out, but i will do them! until next time, my loves!

[fastboatsmojito]

Deleted the ask on accident sorry LMFOA

I actually reblogged a post by someone else with a similar request a few days ago, I just reblogged it again if u want to check that one out 🫶🏼 but I took a different approach with it and threw in a little ongoing slow burn/very light angst in the beginning <3 enjoy

|wc: 1.6k ish oops

Also influenced by ‘I can see you’ by TS

18+ Smut btc !!!!

You knew when the hand on your waist trying to ‘move past you’ lingered a little too long that it was going to be a long day.

He’d been doing things like that all week — steadying your shaky hands with his own while you were trying to concentrate, praising your work more than anyone else, you couldn’t get away from him.

It was hard enough just working for someone so distracting. You could hardly stop yourself from drooling the first time you saw him, briefly introducing yourself and trying not to let your eyes pause over the tattooed forearms he was using to throw bags of flour around like nothing.

Now it was even worse. You couldn’t tell if the lingering touches and stares were on purpose or if it was just in your head. For a while you tried to ignore it; he was your boss after all and you didn’t want to lose your job. Regardless of how hard you tried you couldn’t get him out of your head.

You tried not to talk to him most of the day unless you had to. It’s late, you got caught up in trying to perfect the latest dish and by the time you looked up to grab something from the walk-in almost everyone else was gone. Except Luca. Of course.

His back to you, flour covered apron still on as he was just starting to clean up. You sighed and walked to the walk-in. At least he was leaving soon.

To your dismay you needed something from the tallest shelf, practically the only one you couldn’t reach. You only had a few options; leave it and deal with it tomorrow, ask him for help, or try to reach it yourself.

So like any sane person would, you decided to climb the shelves. You cautiously made your way up and you were just about to reach for it when you heard someone come in.

Shit.

“Need some help?” He was standing directly behind you grinning, open hands ready and willing when you looked down at him.

“Think I’ve got it actually.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Clearly.”

You were reaching as far as you could but you just couldn’t grab it from this angle. You tried to climb back down but your apron got caught on something, you let out a gasp as you almost fell. Suddenly Luca’s hands were on your waist, helping you steady yourself to get down.

He grabbed what you needed and kept it in his hands as he looked at you like a disappointed teacher. You were avoiding eye contact, the long gone warm hands gripping your waist still burning into your skin.

“What’s going on with you, chef?”

He didn’t sound as pissed as you thought he would, worry in his tone.

“Nothing- I think I’m just tired. I should go.”

He was getting closer to you, not stopping until your back was almost right against the shelves. You had to look at him now.

“I know It’s not that. Talk to me, please. Did I do something wrong?”

He sounded hurt and you said no a little too quickly. His expression changed, he was looking for clues in your own.

“You didn’t do anything wrong I just-“ You paused, thinking about how to tell the man towering over you that he was so hot it was distracting and you just didn’t want it to be weird for him.

“-I just don’t want to make it weird. I really like working with you. Here, I mean. It’s nice.”

Without thinking, your eyes drifted to his arms when you said it. They were occupied holding the box of something you couldn’t care less about anymore. He put the box down then, moving even closer to you if that was possible.

“Make it weird? What d’you mean?”

He folded his arms. God. Was he flexing? When you looked back up he was smiling, curiously awaiting your answer. Your face warmed under his gaze even with the cold.

You shook your head.

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

You were stuttering under him. The musky scent of his cologne filling your nose while you tried to control thoughts you of him turning you around and seeing if the walk-in really was sound-proof.

He uncrossed his arms, moving so they were both situated beside either side of your head. Faces so close you had nowhere else to look. Your breath was shaky, you were clearly cold but the warmth emulating from his body and your own kept it from bothering you too much.

“You look like you want something, chef. Why don’t you just ask for it?”

You thought he was about to kiss you then, warm heat pooling between your legs. It was obvious he knew how flustered he was making you. Instead he simply handed the box to you and walked out.

What the fuck.

You walked out, sat the box down and tried to get back to work. He went right back to cleaning like nothing happened. You couldn’t concentrate anymore, choosing to go splash some cold water on yourself.

You got a look at your disheveled reflection in the mirror, apron and shirt wrinkled from his hands, flushed face. The cold water didn’t do much but you were determined to finish the dish.

You went back to your station just as Luca was taking off his apron, his shirt lifted just for a second and you almost groaned seeing a peek of his abs. He saw you stop to look at him, grinning when he saw you close your legs together just a bit more.

You brushed it off, he was about to leave. You could do this. Focusing on the steady movement of your knife, getting into a nice rhythm with the different elements of your dish, you were finally satisfied with it.

“Precise cuts, clean plate, incredible work, chef.”

You jumped. He was leaning on the counter right next to you, you couldn’t remember seeing him walk over to you.

“I- thank you, chef.”

You smiled quickly at him, bringing your eyes back to the dish.

“You’re a great learner you know. Patient, attentive, determined, you might be my best worker.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, looking back at him.

“Might be?”

He laughed softly and shrugged.

“No, you definitely are.”

You grinned and looked back down. Well, tried to. One of his hands came up to grab your chin, keeping your eyes on his as he moved closer to you.

“Tell me what you want.”

For the second time tonight he was so close you could smell his musky cologne mixed with the sweet-bready smell of the restaurant. It was intoxicating. You leaned into his hand, his thumb stroking just above your jaw.

Fuck it.

“I want you.”

He looked at you for a second before moving both of his hands to your waist and placing you on the counter, standing between you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him in to kiss you. You were intense, hands running over his chest and into his hair as you opened your mouth slightly to let his tongue in. He was calmer, rough hands steady and slow.

He pulled away to kiss down your neck, taking your apron off. You moaned softly when he nibbled at the skin above your collar bone, leaving open mouthed kisses to soothe the sting.

You moved your hands under his shirt, he pulled away to take it off as you did the same.

Fuck me.

He was even hotter like this, messy hair and quick breaths, you were making work even harder for yourself but you didn’t care. He was focusing again on your neck and chest as you were unbuttoning your pants, then you caught a glimpse of the clock.

“Shit, openers will be here in like an hour.”

He looked up at you, lifting you up a bit to help you push your pants off.

“Yeah, we won’t need that long.”

You pulled him into you to grind your clothed core over his achingly hard dick. You were moaning into each other’s mouths when he grabbed your hips and moved one of his hands down to touch you through the soaked fabric.

“Damn who made you this wet, chef?”

Your mouth was open, eyebrows knitting together as he brought his fingers up to your clit.

“Fuck- don’t call me that right now or I’ll-“

You interrupted yourself with a moan as he pulled your underwear to the side to glide his fingers up and down you, juices dripping out of you covering his fingers.

“You’ll what? Get worked up thinking about me all day?”

You nodded your head, words getting stuck in the back of your throat.

“And what if I want that?”

You were trying to answer him, you really were. You wanted to tell him how cocky he was being, but you were too focused on his hands.

One on your waist keeping you steady while two fingers on the other were teasing you, going up to rub your clit just too lightly and then back down to your entrance and staying there.

You were moaning into his mouth again.

“Luca- please.”

He was enamored with you, looking everywhere you’d let him as your pretty sounds filled his ears. He chuckled as you grabbed his wrist, finally pushing a finger into you.

He started slow, curling his finger up and dragging it all the way out and then back in while you tried, and struggled, to keep kissing him.

“Tha’s it. Take it, just like that.”

He added another finger, speeding up a bit and moving his thumb to rub at your needy clit. You were close already and he could tell, moving his thick fingers faster.

“C’mon I can feel you squeezing my fingers, let go for me.”

“Gonna be thinking about this pussy all night.”

———-

GOD