#Staring at you audience of one you know what this is like
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kingofthewilderwest · 16 hours ago
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We need to start questioning the conflation of "maturity" with "increased stakes."
It's not to say higher stakes is always a bad choice. The first half of the How to Train Your Dragon book series has an endearingly whimsical, child-like feel. Hiccup's issues in the first half of book one are an obnoxious, cat-sized Toothless pooping in his helmet. The movie adaptation might have made the book and its counterpart distant cousins, but it was a thoughtful move to alter concepts to the appropriately theatrical: books and movies aren't the same medium. Hiccup riding alone on Toothless, exchanging fire blasts with a mountain-sized dragon, and losing his leg came off as well-done storytelling.
Hiccup staring at a prosthetic never happened in the book. He didn't lose his leg in his encounter with the Green Death. It was, as the creative powers behind the movie said, a result of the increased stakes. They didn't do this just to be more dramatic; they did it because it seemed that, based on how their narrative was going, this made sense. And this was a soft, quiet, shocking, breath-taking scene that instilled how good the movie handled its stakes. It gave us a reflective reaction to consequences that audiences might not have expected. This movie understood timing, pauses, quietness, narrative arc, poignance, reflection, emotion, love, and heart.
We know about the conflation of live action as "more mature" than animation. But a medium doesn't change maturity levels. We all know that's bogus, and many analyses have been given on that. Disney live actions add extraneous gunk, down to Gaston having a past relationship with war (so I've heard, from the people who actually watched the movie), and Disney giving us the sad scoop on why Belle's mom isn't around. Furthermore, lots of times, when I see the conversion of animation to live action, I notice creators feel a need to "raise the stakes" -- in line with the erroneous view of "giving maturity."
But "higher stakes" often means inserting action in place of mindful interaction. I feel today's Hollywood movies, in their treatment of "action," don't let movies pause and breathe anymore - ergo, they don't let us think. Isn't it more juvenile to actively avoid thought in favor of "hey look I made the building go boom"? There may be less "stakes" in introspection and mindful dialogue, but that's what gives it its maturity. That's how we went from Iron Man 1, with its grounded treatment of war and abuse, to the mindless high spectacle MCU is today.
Snappy one-liners or moments that clap at contemporary issues don't substitute for maturity. What can make a story mature is characters grappling with issues in a natural narrative through-line. A snappy one-liner is its own form of speedy spectacle.
We know about the conflation of "gore and sex" with "mature audiences." I believe they're right that graphic sex and gore is designed for adults. But that doesn't make it mature, and that doesn't make it the only way to target a medium for adults.
"Realisticness" isn't maturity. Per above regarding animation: realistic visuals are nothing. And if you think that putting more Debbie Downer material into your adaptation makes it more adult, you have to ask yourself why the themes that spoke to people's souls got muddled in its midst. We weren't mature enough to interact with the most subtle, nuanced, and impacting voice of the story. But hey! Look! There's more corpses, I guess!
It's not the visuals, it's not the events. It's not the "things." It's not the basic insertion of the external. Get past the superficial, get past the top layer of presentation. It's the mind. It's the ability to think. It's the ability to be still. It's the ability to be interested and attentive when something is slow or quotidian, because we can understand why that is important for narrative growth or arcs or themes or commentary on the human condition. It's the ability to know when and when not to include something. It's the ability to make resonant impact. It's the ability to be deep with your emotions or your themes. It's the ability to take what you have and grow it in a way by which we can derive something deeper.
Maturity is critical thought and well-conducted, appropriate responses to content of any kind.
As DeBlois tells Empire, the move to live-action brings a different emphasis to How To Train Your Dragon; a new heft, both physically and emotionally. “It’s so dialed-up in terms of stakes — having a fully credible, photo-real dragon stomping around trying to kill him,” the director says.
And maybe that DeBlois quote is taken out of context. Maybe there's more going on than that one sentence conveys. Maybe Empire is making their own erroneous assumptions. But "so dialed-up in terms of stakes," isn't, on its own, a good appeal. The animated movie already dialed things up - and knew when to include or not include something. A live-action that imitates the visuals of the animated movie exactly, as if no independent thought has been done to its unique adaptation, to the pros and cons of the medium, to what a independently-presented story needs and doesn't need... It has to make you wonder: how many conflations of "maturity" are going on?
How long are we going to keep making our own conflations?
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knoepfl · 2 days ago
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A Halloween of Horrors
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Characters:
Art the Clown: The horrifyingly sadistic, silent, and twisted clown. Known for his grotesque humor and terrifying unpredictability, he finds twisted amusement in toying with his “victim.” Though usually merciless, tonight he’s taken a different approach, involving her in his wicked plans in his own dark, playful way. Reader: Art’s “victim” who has somehow captured his disturbing attention. While most would run in terror, she’s grown to accept—if not be intrigued by—his strange antics and terrifying presence. Drawn into Art’s macabre games, she finds herself playing along with his dark humor, all while haunted by his unpredictable nature.
Trigger Warnings: Gore, violence, dark themes, horror elements, unsettling behavior
Masterlist
Words: 868
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The evening had settled into a haunting silence, the shadows growing longer and the moon casting an eerie glow over the empty streets. You felt a chill creep up your spine, knowing tonight would be far from ordinary. Halloween was Art’s night—a night to do whatever he pleased, a night when he felt most at home in the world’s darkest corners.
You didn’t know when he had chosen you, or why. But somehow, for reasons only he knew, he had allowed you to survive his games. Tonight, he had even insisted on “dressing you up,” a wicked gleam in his blackened eyes as he presented you with a costume—a miniature replica of his own, complete with a black-and-white jumpsuit and a twisted smile painted on your face.
You stared at yourself in the cracked mirror he had provided, a mixture of dread and dark amusement pooling in your stomach. The face that stared back was eerily similar to Art’s own, a pale white with exaggerated black lips and dark eyes, almost mocking his chilling appearance. The more you looked, the more you felt yourself blending into his twisted world, becoming his perfect little puppet for the night.
Art tilted his head as he watched you, his painted grin unmoving but his eyes glittering with approval. He gave you a slow, mocking clap, clearly pleased with his handiwork.
You gave a nervous laugh, shifting uncomfortably in the ill-fitting suit. “So… what’s the plan tonight?” you asked, half-joking, half-hoping he didn’t have one.
Art’s eyes narrowed, and he lifted a finger to his lips, motioning for silence as he tilted his head to the side, listening to the faint sounds of Halloween night—trick-or-treaters in the distance, and an occasional laugh echoing down the alleyways. Then, with a childlike glee, he took your hand, tugging you down the street, your painted-on grin matching his as you followed.
The world around you felt strange, a surreal version of itself as Art guided you through the backstreets, every shadow and echo seeming darker, every movement amplified in the silence. People barely spared the two of you a glance, assuming you were both just Halloween enthusiasts in costume. It was a cover that let Art move freely, a thought that sent a thrill of fear through you.
After a while, you approached a small group gathered around a bonfire in a vacant lot, laughing and chatting. Art’s head tilted as he observed them, his eyes locking onto them like a predator. He glanced back at you, eyes twinkling with an unspoken invitation to join his little game.
He pointed to a nearby pile of discarded props—a plastic knife, an old hatchet—and mimed bringing one to his own throat in a dramatic, mock “death.” You swallowed hard, understanding his dark humor and feeling an unsettling thrill as you picked up the hatchet, just as he’d indicated.
The two of you approached, silent as shadows. Art’s movements were a silent ballet of mischief, his clownish grin widening with every step. Just as the group began to notice you, he stepped forward, motioning for their attention with a dramatic bow.
“Hey! That’s some costume, man!” one of them laughed, clapping. Art returned the applause with exaggerated enthusiasm, his eyes never leaving his “audience.”
One of the onlookers, a guy dressed as a vampire, turned to you, taking in your matching costume. “You two planned this together, huh?” he chuckled, not noticing the wicked gleam in Art’s eyes.
Art clapped his hands, bringing them together in a loud snap, signaling the “show” to begin. He picked up his plastic knife and slashed it in the air, making everyone laugh, completely oblivious to the underlying menace in his movements. You joined in, swinging the fake hatchet around in a mock horror-movie fashion, your heart pounding as you played along with his twisted performance.
Art’s “audience” continued to laugh and cheer, completely charmed by the silent clown act, until he reached into his jumpsuit and pulled out something glinting in the firelight. This was no toy. He brought the blade to his lips, shushing everyone with one finger before he glanced at you, waiting.
For a moment, everything hung in the air, silent and still. Then, without warning, Art lunged forward, a blur of movement as the laughter turned to screams. The once-lighthearted crowd scattered, scrambling to escape. You could feel the madness in the air as you watched him, realizing you were the only one left standing.
Art returned to your side, his grin impossibly wide, eyes sparkling with a manic glee. He gave a slow, mocking bow, offering you the knife. In that moment, you understood—he wanted you to take his place, to be the twisted performer, to join in his nightmare fully. You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the knife in your hand, the thrill and terror of his world settling over you as the Halloween night grew darker.
Hand in hand, both of you faded into the night, leaving behind the chaos you’d created, blending into the shadows like a haunting duet. You weren’t just his victim tonight; you were his partner, his mirrored reflection, a twisted pair reveling in Halloween’s darkest hours.
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skhardwarevers1 · 2 months ago
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in the process of figuring out designs for W.G characters except the only two I can think of are the founders, who just so happen to look similar to Jeff Goldblum and George Clooney. However they have no names yet so I refer to them by the actor’s names, which gets really confusing because it sounds like I’m rambling about evil gay yaoi between Jeff Goldblum and George Clooney.
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number-1-crush · 2 years ago
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i want date girl
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nezuscribe · 1 month ago
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gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.
he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.
and you’re oblivious to it.
you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.
you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.
you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.
eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.
one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.
it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.
he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.
you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.
you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.
“didn’t know i had an audience,”
you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.
you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.
“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”
he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.
“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”
my wife.
the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?
you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.
“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.
“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.
“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”
you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.
“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.
“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”
you stare at him, unblinking.
“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.
you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.
“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.
you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.
“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?
“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.
“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.
this entire time you’ve been alone?
he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.
“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.
gojo stares at you, unblinking.
“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.
you can’t either.
he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.
maybe you were just walking around, like you said.
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alastorss · 9 months ago
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⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.
He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.
Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.
Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.
At least, that's what he thought.
There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.
"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.
Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.
But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.
"Why, thank you, darling!"
He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.
He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.
The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.
Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
You have some nerve, he thinks.
Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.
It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.
So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.
There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.
"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.
"Why would something be the matter?"
He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.
You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"
"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."
You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?
Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.
His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.
"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.
Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.
His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.
"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."
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sturnsdarling · 2 months ago
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'Chris likes girls who don't like him back'
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Late night streaming with your best friends turns to a conversation about the boys' type, and Chris gets called out
vibe check: flirty fluffy fun, 3/4 of my favourite f words
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A/N: i had this idea literally straight away after what Matt said about Chris' type.........the idea of being Chris' best friend that he openly fancies but you're 'not interested' makes MY TOES CURL BRO LIKE ARE YOU KIDDING anyway I hope you love this. PART TWO IS INCOMING…
love and cigs, merc
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"Matt he's right there what the fuck are you doing?!" you scream down the mic, nearly throwing your controller across the room as you jolt back in your chair.
You watch as Matt gets sniped in the head from the back, laughing as he wails on this desk, making the whole stream glitch and nearly crash. Chris is laughing along with you, trying not to make it obvious that he's watching you, and not Matt.
"Matt, bro you need to fuckin' up your game, y/n/n is actually carrying us right now." Chris says as Matt picks his chair up off the floor and sits back down in a huff.
"I always carry when I come on with you boys" you smirk, looking at the tiny square of Chris on your screen.
"yeah because you're a little sweat" Matt chuckles.
The boys had been streaming everyday for over a week now and, after some convincing, they managed to get you to join in on one of their games. At first you were apprehensive, obviously, but they explained that they were trying to diversify their platform and find a more mature audience so, actually interacting with girls on the internet was their first step.
You and the boys had been friends for forever, you met them through Nick in elementary school and had basically all been inseparable ever since, you'd been in some earlier videos but the fans back then made it very difficult to just exist around them so, you took it upon yourself to only exist in their real life, not their online one.
Cut to right now, you're nearly two hours deep in fortnite trios with the boys on stream, everyone was super excited to see you when they announced that they'd be joining and, other than a couple comments that you all ignored, it was going really well.
"Matt, someone asked what our types are" Chris laughed, reading the chat.
"I'm not answering that" Matt dead panned, screwing his face up at the camera
"I can answer it for you both, for sure" you chuckle, "chat do you want me to answer it?"
"yes, yes, yes, yes, omg yes" Chris was reeling off the answers in chat, "everyone wants y/n/n to answer, Matt should we let her?" Chris asked.
Matt rolled his eyes with a smile, "g'head, y/n/n, expose us" He chuckled.
"okay, so" you said, in your best girly gossip voice, "Matt likes nerdy, reader, soft girls" you begin to explain, your train of thought is interrupted by Chris erupting into laughter.
"dude she's so right! you love a girl that looks like she's always buried in a book" Chris wails.
"what are you guys even saying?" Matt complains, the smile etched across his face giving his tone a lot less power.
"you definitely want a girl who will go on a hike with you or some shit, Matt" You say, enjoying this whole interaction a bit too much.
Chris was keeled over in laughter, loving finally being able to talk about this kind of stuff on the internet without everyone going insane.
"I dunno why you're laughing so much, Chris, you're next" Matt states, Chris shrugs in reply.
"i don't give a fuck, call me out y/n/n, gimme the best you got" Chris sits back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.
"hmmmm" you say, exaggerating your thinking, "what is the famous Christopher Sturniolos type" you rub your chin, pretending to be thinking deeply.
A knowing smirk is spread wide across Chris' face as he stares at your face on his screen, tongue prodding the side of his cheek.
"I know Chris' type" Matt adds, a menacing smile on his face.
"g'head matt, you take this one" you gesture to the boy on your screen.
"Chris likes girls who don't like him back" Matts brows raise in accusation towards Chris.
You try and hide the smile forming on your face, attempting to look as focused on the game as possible as your tongue prods at your teeth. Neither of the boys say anything, both of them cheesing, Matt in a teasing and knowing kind of way and Chris more so in a 'I cant say what I wanna say' kind of way.
"damn, Matt, you just called me the fuck out" Chris shakes his head, looking to the tiny version of you on his screen.
You're still quiet, trying to fight the smile on your face and look as focused as possible, you catch Chris looking as if he's looking at you on his screen and shake your head with a chuckle.
"what you grinnin' at, kid?" Chris smirks.
You raise your brows, shaking your head with a downwards smile, "no, nothin', nothin" you say, returning your focus back to the game.
All of the viewers watched the interaction and were blowing up the chat with comments about how Chris definitely likes you, saying things like 'did you guys see that?!', and 'think they're slick look at how they're both smiling!!!!!'. Chris was reading the comments and trying to hide the red blush crawling its way onto his cheeks, Matt was relishing in the fact that Chris was so obviously nervous, and you were just trying not to react.
"Chris, dude, you better wipe that smile off your face, chat's onto you" Matt pokes the bear.
"chat ain't onto shit, Matt, shut the fuck up" Chris says, trying to be serious but unable to push his smile down.
"you know i'm right though, you do like girls who don't want you" Matt pushed on with his joke.
"Matt, shut your fuckin' mouth, dude" Chris rolled his eyes and shook his head, his smile still prevalent.
You couldn't help but laugh, still pretending to not care about the situation unfolding. In hindsight, it probably made it all the more obvious that you knew exactly what Matt was referring to.
"you're awful quiet, y/n/n, you got nothing to say on Chris' type?" Matt extends his joke over to you and your attention is immediately on him.
"nah, you hit the nail on the head, I think" you shrug, stretching back in your chair and adjusting your headset.
"oh really?" Chris replies, brows raised in accusation.
"mhm" you nod, faux innocently.
Chris kisses his teeth, nodding and trying to hide the smile on his face once again.
"yeah, chat, Matts right, I like pretty girls, who don't like me back" Chris says, subtly turning his attention to you and then back to chat.
You roll your eyes with a smile, leaning forward once more to lock into the game.
"you're ridiculous, Chris" Matt chuckles into the mic, watching you shift in your seat, trying not to blush.
The rest of the game went off without a hitch, you guys went on to win multiple times and all the viewers eventually stopped trying to get the conversation back to Chris' obvious crush on you. You played until the early hours of the morning, joking and laughing with the boys' just like old times and relishing in the fact that you were finally able to be a part of their online presence again. When it hit around three a.m you told them you had to sign off, explaining that you had to be up early for college that morning.
"guys, I gotta go, but I'll text you when I wake up" you said, pulling off your headset, and brushing your hair back with your hand.
"alright, y/n/n, thanks for helping us bury kids, its always a treat" Matt grinned at you, shooting you his token boyish smile.
"you know I live to humble kids on fort, Matt" You shrugged, putting on your best boyish persona, earning a laugh from Matt
"okay seriously, I gotta go, bye chat!" you smile, "bye boys" you go to switch off your computer but you're stopped by Chris booming voice.
"bye, beautiful" he says, a cheesy grin on his face.
your eyes roll to the back of your head as an uncontrollable smile finds your lips, "bye, Chris" you reply, switching off your computer.
The whole chat erupts with people losing their minds over Chris calling you beautiful, the boys say nothing, Matt just shakes his head, laughing at the chat as he watches Chris, grinning with pride and completely unashamed of his very obvious crush on you.
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taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10
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screampied · 7 months ago
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‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,
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ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)
wc. 6k
warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.
dbf! toji masterlist
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“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”
you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…
just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.
skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”
“oh yeah?”
as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”
“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”
“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”
“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”
you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.
three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower
wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol
shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????
kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)
iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin
“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”
“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.
your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.
he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”
toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.
of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.
you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…
“i meant what i said,” you mutter.
while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”
his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”
with such simple words, trust and believe he does.
toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.
for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.
your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”
“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.
oh, you were soaked alright.
a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”
dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”
you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.
although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.
BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this
gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…
FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<
you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.
squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.
“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.
side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.
candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.
so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.
“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”
his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.
each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.
after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.
“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”
“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.
he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.
toji fushiguro…
a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?
. . .
unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?
once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.
that was . . embarrassing.
the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.
oops.
“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.
you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.
all thanks to toji.
you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”
“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”
your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.
chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up
zorosballswallower: NOOOOO
anonymoususer: dad?
gojoclitoru: lol no.
and with many others the comments continue to flood.
majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”
“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.
“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”
my girl…
for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.
he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.
“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”
“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”
“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.
it hits you like a semi-truck.
illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.
in your mind, you’re thinking . .
finally, the good part.
toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”
so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.
the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”
“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.
testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.
the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.
with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…
you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”
“huh?”
“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”
glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.
“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.
“please what?”
“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.
toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”
you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.
“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.
a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.
arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.
“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )
and toji’s just so fucking big.
he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.
metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.
the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.
a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.
languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.
toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.
“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.
“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”
“i missed you t—.”
“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”
you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.
“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.
it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.
with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.
gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(
willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…
iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru
hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom
your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.
he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.
the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.
“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”
“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”
“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”
he was right.
then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.
you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.
“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.
you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.
he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.
sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”
“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.
“yes what, girl.”
you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.
“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”
toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.
shit.
he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.
“honeyyy? you up there?”
you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.
already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.
maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.
dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.
“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”
his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.
eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.
“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.
so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.
“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.
“come here, princess.”
it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.
you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.
simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.
breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.
toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.
“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.
“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.
you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.
it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.
and yet for once, you have him speechless.
toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”
“ . . . ”
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milkneutrality · 1 year ago
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Marble hornets not having much of a visually distinctive cast can be really frustrating, especially when ur first watching it. Then multiply that frustration 10x because of all the visual distortion/glitching. But nowadays I'm p thankful bcs wanting to make mh fanart is what pushed me to put more effort into drawing faces and making faces look distinctive from each other.
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murdrdocs · 3 months ago
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80s pornstar logan; age gap; pornstar reader x pornstar logan; doggy; brat!reader MDNI 18+ w/ LOGAN HOWLETT
logan doesn't trust you.
he doesn't know you well enough for you to have gained his trust, but he refuses to get to know you. there's no point. in logan's eyes, there's no reason for you to get comfortable.
you won't be here for long.
he doesn't care how much the studio believes in you, he doesn't believe in you. how could he? you're so fucking green that he can smell it on you. only starred in a couple movies before this one, both nothing compared to the expansive record that he has.
gum-smacking, lip gloss shining under the sun, flowy shirts, and tiny shorts. compared to his cigars, fitted jeans, and plaid, the two of you are polar opposites. even though logan sees something in you. that same arrogance he had at your age. it just looks different on you.
you confront him first. standing beside his car in the studio parking lot, resting your hip on the door like it’s your vehicle. you’re blocking the entrance, lazily smacking your gum as you squint at him.
logan doesn’t say anything. he stands there, hands on his hips, his restless fingers tapping against the worn leather of his belt. he shamelessly lets his eyes rake down your body, taking in the natural shape of your tits through your loose shirt, the expanse of your legs barely covered by your tiny shorts. briefly, logan wonders if you’re shaved like some of the other younger girls he’s filmed with.
he finds himself wanting to find out.
he’s wearing his shades, the thin wire-framed ones with brown lenses. he knows they aren’t opaque, he knows you can see the path his eyes take, but he doesn’t care. he holds off a smile when you adjust your stance and scoff.
“what’s your problem with me?”
logan shrugs dismissively.
apparently, his nonchalance upsets you even more. he expects you to give him some speech about how rude he is, how you deserve to be here just as much as he does, how you earned your spot in this production. whatever your little brain can come up with.
but you give him none of that. you push off of logan's truck, step out of his way, and saunter off with a final call of, "see you on wednesday!".
logan lets his eyes linger on the switch in your hips and the shape of your ass.
his eyes find that same spot on wednesday, his view unobstructed now as your bare skin is illuminated underneath the studio lights. he's just staring and he can't stop. his eyes watching the way your skin ripples as he fucks you from behind, following the curve of your back, all the way up to the crown of your head which reaches for him.
he knows at some point he's supposed to grab the ponytail you have. the director wants him to mess it up as much as possible, providing a good contrast from how dolled up you were before. most of that has been done naturally. for some reason, everything with you seems natural. logan's been in the game for a while, he's had to fake scenes before. it's part of the job description, to act according to how the audience would want the sex to go. but with you, logan doesn't think he's been acting at all.
the energy buzzes around his entire body the entire time. he doesn't ever forget that you're both being filmed, it would be hard to, but he loses himself in it. he loses himself in the way you know just what to do. the way you angle your body perfectly according to the camera position, the way you speak to him, the way you're so visibly remembering every single direction you were giving before filming began.
your competence is hot.
by the time filming is over and a production assistant is handing you a warm towel and your robe, logan's fucking spent.
you're just there grinning, watching logan down an entire bottle of water in one go. when he comes up for air, you stand before him, keeping your eyes on his.
"i see why you're known for your stamina," is all you say to him before you turn away and disappear, possibly unaware of the semi that was brewing beneath the towel covering logan's hips. 
the next time logan sees you, it's through a headshot. sitting on the casting director's desk, amongst three others, all labeled with names and facing him. he stands there for a second, hands crossed over his chest as he scans every picture.
"we just need to know who you think would be good for the next job," the casting director reiterates, his words smooth as they wrap around logan's mind.
logan doesn’t know why he’s pretending, why he's taking so long to answer a question that he knows the answer to.
he slides your picture up higher than the rest and leaves it at that.
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sugutiva · 2 months ago
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❝ THREE IS NEVER A CROWD ! ❞ — ST & SG.
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ᥫ᭡. synopsis : walking in to find your two best friends making out on camera was no surprise to you at all— but finding yourself sandwiched between them surely was.
tags : smut, p in v, threesomes, geto has piercings, cam sex, oral sex ( f & m receiving ), fingering, slight handjob, spanking, squirting, creampie, cum facial or wtv it’s called, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !
a/n : sugutiva posting twice in one month?! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
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if someone had told you that your two loser best friends who shit-talks about everyone and everything they encounter, uncannily bicker like an old married couple, and secretly watches porn together was behind a famous camboy account, you’d wouldn’t be surprise at the fact at all.
you had always suspected that the pair were equally fond of each other— no matter how much they tried to deny it. but there’s still some sort of shock once you find them sloppily making out on the bed you were supposed to be having a movie marathon on, with a live audience capturing their lewd movements.
they only break away from their overbearing kiss once the grocery bag filled to the brim falls out your hand, and spills it’s contents on the floor. cerulean and violet eyes stare holes into your motionless form, clearly processing the embarrassing situation.
oh. this was honestly the last thing you expected on a friday night.
“ satoru? suguru?” you utter, curling your eyebrow upwards in disbelief as you take in the scene infront you; there sits satoru on suguru’s lap with nothing on but boxer briefs, meanwhile suguru is situated underneath him with no shirt but a pair of baggy black sweatpants. despite satoru’s imposing figure, you still had an inkling that suguru was the real dominant one out of the duo.
“ shit. fuck— um, h-hey. . .” satoru greets you with a sheepish smile. the wait of reality truly settles in because you’ve never witnessed him being slightly ashamed for anything he did or does. he unlatches himself from suguru’s body but there’s no point, you’ve already seen what you’ve saw. “ i didn’t know you’d come over at all—“
“ it’s a friday night, satoru.” geto deadpans before facing you with a serene smile, like you hadn’t caught them in the act of doing something lewd. infront him, there’s dozens of comments rolling in, and your eye catches them. some asked them about who you were, if you were the girl they often talked about, or if they’ll do another threesome again, this time with you.
knowing they’d regularly talk about their viewers to you made your body flush all over with a sudden throbbing temptation.
“ so . . . you two are camboys? since when?” even though you swore you were in a state of surprise, your body must’ve moved by it’s self, seeing how you take a couple steps forward until your somewhat towering over their tall bodies. gojo looks at you with surprise before twisting to amusement, while geto keeps his expression serene.
“ you don’t sound too disgusted or surprised,” geto skillfully avoids your questions calmly, and you grow nervous under their combined observant gazes. they were prepared for you to outright judge them for their shameful shared account, but instead you don’t. in fact, you look intrigued. “ i could be wrong but, i think you want to join us.”
you grow quiet and break eye contact. it’s cute.
gojo stares at you with a teasing smile before grabbing your wrist to pull you over closer, he mumbles. “ you wanna fuck?”
you attempt to speak but nothing comes out. it’s like that for a few seconds, you staring at them in dumbfound as they wait seemingly patiently for your answer. “ i— w-with me? a threesome with . . . all three of us?”
“ yeah, i mean, that’s literally the point . . . of a threesome.” geto quips back with sass, and you roll your eyes.
the answer is yes, written in bold letters as your back meets the cushion of the bed they were once on moments ago. it feels expensive.
gojo goes over to the camera, positioning it in a good angle that where all thousands of their audience can see with you bare with your legs sprawled out, and geto in between them.
his hot breath fans over you already soaked cunt presented to him, narrowly flashing you that shining piercing stamped on his tongue. “ you hear that, princess?” he brings his thumb to gather your slick from your leaking entrance before smearing it on your erect clit— just begging for his attention. or maybe for the both of them at once. “ you hear your cunt singing loudly for me?” his thumb repeatedly flicks at your labia, ringing out deep squelching sounds.
“ suguruuu, don’t play with our food now,” satoru whines, making his way back over to the bed once he has the right set angle. he gets down on his knees next to his partner, pushing your right leg further to make room for him. “ god, ‘m staaarved. keep your legs spread like that— don’t move them at all.”
before you know it, their tongues are fall into an automatic rhythm while slurping and thrashing at your drenched entrance. words cannot describe how good they are at skillfully eating you out at the same time— distantly, it makes you wonder how many times they’ve done it before you came into the picture.
“ fuuuckk!” your mouth drops open, feeling each detail of their tongues slobbering over you, now at different paces. geto languidly tongue fucks your hole; his tongue reaches so impossibly deep inside that you feel the outline of the cool piercing brush against the heat of your hole. while gojo quickly flicks at your clit in rapid succession, strings of saliva coating his own chin, dripping down so messily that they meet with geto’s occupied wet muscle. “ deeper, sugu, deeeeper! wan’a f-feel your piercing!”
“ hmph, suguru’s not the only one eating this sloppy pussy out. or are you too dumb to feel the difference between our tongues?” sensing competition, satoru slurps your whole clit in his mouth. his head shifts up and down as if he was sucking against something else— his tongue flicks out his mouth, much slower this time, accompanied by more saliva coating your pearl, only to be sucked in at the same time his tongue pulls back into his warm mouth.
the sight is nothing short of vulgar, and you’re sure the paid watchers are getting way more than what they expected.
geto pulls back from your cunt, but you don’t get to whine about the lost contact of his tongue leaving your opening when he easily slips two of his thick fingers in, resulting in a loud popping noise, and an even louder moan from your mouth. “ tsk. yer’ such a try hard, satoru. turnin’ everything into a competition.”
“ so? we can’t have you hoggin’ her all for yourself now,” his speech is noticeably slurred due to sucking hungrily on your clit. his mouth detaches from your aching bud, just to deliver a slew of mean spanks to make it twitch under his harsh ministrations. “ ain’t that right, princess?”
the painful sticky contact catches you off guard completely before it quickly brings you back into waves of pleasure. taken aback, you jerk your body away, although you don’t get any where near far because of your hole getting mapped out, and gojo’s iron grip on your hip. the confusing pleasure-pain entanglement has you feeling beyond lightheaded.
“ shit! y-yes, satooru! i wan’ t-the both of you!” your hands flies down in an attempt to pull away the hands causing you extreme pleasure— more than what you can initially handle.
“ yeah. slapping her pussy so she can agree with you definitely wins you more brownie points.” suguru dryly notes, “ we’re gonna break her already.”
“ i’d like to see you do something about it, suguboo.” satoru voice cuts in, the enthusiasm peaking in his tone that suguru lacks.
of course they’d bicker while turning your brain mushy threw your overworked cunt.
“ mmph— ‘m gonna squirt!” you shriek out, your body curves into a outwardly arch— that looks sexy albeit painfully from the camera’s point of view.
suguru starts thrusting his fingers again, even faster than before. satoru’s head dips down to your clit to give it a spit filled kiss before lapping it up into his mouth entirely like before. a tight but slightly uncomfortable pressure builds in your lower stomach.
your surprised that your voice hasn’t given out, considering of how loud your moaning both of their names as they write their conjoined love letter over the expanse of your cunt. “ fuh— fuuccck . . . o-oh!”
your nimble fingers finds home in gojo’s pristine locks of hair. he nibbled on your clit abruptly, and that was your end. your body freezes in your arched position before breaking out into tremors as clear fluids squirts from your body.
“ how cute, our best friend has such a sloppy pussy on ‘er,” suguru’s voice purrs with amusement, watching intensely as the juices that sprays uncontrollably from your body coats the entire half of satoru’s lower face, with some reaching the duvets underneath your bodies.
your body collapses back down on the bed. there’s a brief pregnant pause in the room— you barely notice that it’s because of satoru swapping your juices that he held in his mouth into suguru’s in a deep kiss.
gojo uncharacteristically whines as geto grabs a fistful of his hair to tug him closer— this whiny boy cannot be the same person that just made you paint his face in your vigorous fluids. there’s a brief glimpse of their tongues twirling and touching each other’s, like how they did on your cunt moments ago. suguru pulls from the kiss while also pulling his drowned fingers from your hole, soundly. he presses the certain digits on satoru’s warm tongue, expecting him to suck on them.
which he does, with a submissive moan. “ suguruuuu,”
as they continue to make out, it makes you throb all over again.
satoru chases after his fingers once suguru pulls them away. his brattiness is short lived when suguru yanks his hair to make him face your wrecked form. “ ah ah, don’t be greedy now. we still have a pussy to break again.”
the dynamic assigned with their pornographic persona fits them perfectly— suguru is labeled as the no-nonsense top, while satoru is the bratty bottom that will crack under pressure if pushed enough— no wonder why they’re so famous.
your body is situated into the iconic doggystyle stance. you see the lap of satoru, his boxers briefs are saturated a shade darker than it originally was, credits to his sticky pre-cum making itself known. your hands slowly spring his cock free, and satoru sighs shakily from above you.
you licked your lips, staring at your best friend’s astonishing length. he stood tall, even though it slapped against his stomach, you could tell that it reached far past his belly button; his tip flushes an angry red along with a eye-catching pearly bead of cum that makes your pussy clench around nothing— for now. no doubt, the sheer size will have your jaw aching for days after.
“ no need to just ogle at it. ‘s all yours babe, heh.” gojo chuckles cockily, watching you gawk at his freed dick.
you had temporarily forget the owner of such a pretty cock, had such a blabbermouth.
you glare at him from underneath your eyelashes, you harden the tip of your tongue and push it against the vein bulging from his skin, trailing your tongue all the way upwards until your reaches his slightly swollen tip. there, you take the fat head in your mouth, giving it a harsh suck that makes satoru groan and throw his head back.
geto settles from behind you, giving your rounded ass a heartfelt squeeze before slapping the jiggly skin sternly. he stops to pump his own hardness as he slaps the tip against your sopping folds, noisily— this is how you figure out he has an prince albert’s piercing, when he’s close to using it to turn you drunk on both lingering cock’s. “ waiting on you, pretty girl.”
spreading your legs more, you push back against his base. the curve of his cock presses against your mound, a silent telling that you’re ready for him, and he takes it exactly like that when he suddenly sinks into your warm walls with no follow up warning.
oh god, is he fucking thick.
from the obvious feeling, you can tell that he has more girth to his cock— thicker than gojo’s, but not quite as long.
geto grunts, his gruff hands gripping tightly at your waist as he thrusts forward. his pierced bulbous tip immediately hammers into your sweet spot. the forceful pumps that he delivers to your much smaller body, has your stomach tightening with fulfilled hunger, causing you to mewl around gojo’s cock.
and the vibrating sensitivity is so dizzying to the latter. “ keep fuckin’ her jus like t-that,” his abs flexing and clenching in your field of vision. you hollow your cheeks in and relax the tight muscles in your throat, so you can consume more than just his meaty head. “ oh fuuuuck, baby. you’ve got such a d-deadly throat on ya,”
“ don’t tell me you’re going to cum already now.” geto teases, composedly watching gojo’s reactions. he’s since then propped one leg up on the bed, diving deeper into your pussy even further. “ hey. once his tip starts twitching he’s about to—“
“ shut the f-fuck up,” his strained voice doesn’t come off sternly than what he expected as you trail your tongue down, leading to his tender balls. “ n-not yet— can’t do that, ‘m gonna cum too early!” you pay his words no mind as your hand moves up to stroke up and down on his copious length.
by now, you’re purely relying on geto’s strength and your other hand placed on gojo’s firm thigh to keep you upright. geto leans forward, his chest pressed against your back while the hands once grabbing and slapping at your plump flesh strains your hips. the new position creates more of an absolute mess out of you, along with the heavy balls stuffed in your mouth.
you push back against him every time you feel his pelvis collide with your forgotten clit in sticky thrusts, the contact gives you a distant amount of pleasure but it’s not near enough. “ you desperate for something? how bout you ask me first, then i’ll make this pussy drown my cock.
a tease is the perfect word to describe geto— he knows what you want, but still decided to make you spell it out for him. painstakingly.
“ i want you to t-touch me,” he gives your body a jagged thrust. he wanted more, for you to be more specific. you grumble before complying. “ i w-want you to touch my clit, suguru, pleaseee!”
his hand creeps in between your parted thighs, fingers toying with your throbbing clit in fast paced, tight circles to match the speed of his own hips. “ like this? you like havin’ your clit played with while you give your other best friend head?” his voice is pitched an octave lower pressed to your ear, the purring sensation makes you push back against him, searching for your pending orgasm. “ heh. what a greedy slut for cock.”
“ ‘m gonna cum soon, princess.” gojo jaw clenches as he breathes out, nostrils slightly flaring due to the doubled pleasure; your hand pulls and twists in up and down motions on his cock, your saliva helps guides your hand as your mouth is currently occupied with him. he doesn’t let you stop or pull away even for a moment as his fingers cards through the locks of your hair, pulling and pushing them closer. “ c-close your eyes, baby. wan’a paint your pretty face in my cum for the viewers.”
you had briefly forgotten that all of your obscene doings are being captured. dozens and dozens of donations roll in, but you can’t focus on that. not when your senses are clouded with only impure thoughts of your two best friends.
you listen to gojo’s order— and you’re glad because moments later, galloons of his sticky cum paints your face in a translucent base. “ g-good girl, oohhh, you look so pretty like this for m-me.” he cups your face with one hand, while smearing the leaking slit of his tip against your lips. your tongue dips out to lick the bitter yet somehow sweet substance.
the black haired, determined man pulls at your arms, fucking into you faster, initiating broken gasps to leave your throat with every push. “ suguruuu, ‘m so close. i . . . fuuuck, gonna cum!”
“ you like it rough, yeah?” he gives you another awakening thrust, and that’s your end. your head throws back against his broad shoulder and he turns his head to latch on your neck.
but he still doesn’t relent. not until he comes next.
making your head bobble and your pleasure quickly bleed into overstimulation, until your restricting walls triggers his own climax. with a harsh bite on your neck; geto cums, while consuming down his pornographic moans. and it’s a plentiful amount.
“ o-oh shit.” his jaw ached from how hard it was clenched and the muscles in his thighs flex. his fingers on your clit slow, eventually dropping their pace “ yer’ so t-tight. my dick feels like it’s going to fall o-off . . .”
his cum is so warm and it makes you feel full inside, he ruts his hips up erratically to make broken hiccups escape your mouth before he eventually stops.
the salacious mood calms down as you’re busy catching your breath with the weight of geto on top of you— you don’t even realize the camera is in your face until the familiar notification sounds are too close up.
bleary-eyed, you looked into the camera from under your eyelashes. the seductive scene of satoru’s sticky cum covering your face couldn’t be anymore intoxicating to ingest.
“ i think we have more room for another person,” gojo’s cerulean eyes meets his companion’s. “ what d’ya think, suguru?”
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rafey-baby · 3 months ago
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outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…
cw: outlaw!rafe being mean and manipulative, mentions of murder, violence & other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end?
wc: 2k
he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx
part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the oak door at 3am, revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.  
She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg.  
At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to. But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.  
She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth.  
“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. 
And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars. 
And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.  
“I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey.  
“I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?” 
She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences. 
He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again.  
“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knocking on your door in the middle of the night you don’t fucking open, alright?”  
She’s making it entirely too easy for him.  
The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.  
However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room.  
She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears.  
“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her.  
“Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him.  
“I’m sorry, I...I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, unable to move.  
“You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment.  
“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest.  
“Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her.  
“You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air.  
“No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.  
“Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?”  
“I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment.  
“If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” 
She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration.  
He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore.  
He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.  
“What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question.  
“Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes.  
“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.  
“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.  
“You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows. 
She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest.  
“So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more.  
“Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat.  
All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.  
She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.  
“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her.  
“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.  
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.  
- - - - - - - - - - - - 
After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.  
He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.  
The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him.  
His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. 
“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face.  
“I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.  
And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.  
“You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.  
“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable.  
“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates. 
“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens.  
“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.”  
“You don’t— know me.” 
“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers.  
“If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed.  
“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel.  
“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.  
“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.  
“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.  
“See? Not hurting you, am I?”  
She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”  
“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.  
Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.  
“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.  
“Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form, pushing her back to stumble on her feet; setting the gun back on the coffee table with a clank. 
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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago
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🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, public teasing, public punishment, blowjob, degradation, humiliation, use of blindfold, use of restraints, spitting, light slapping, light choking, fingering, pussy slapping, dacryphilia, use of sex toys in public, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mean!roughdom!chris, mean!roughdom!matt, brattysub!reader
🖤 summary: 🖤 after capitalizing off of a chance to tease chris and matt, making them both cum on stream and nearly humiliate them in front of their fans, they retaliate against you and give you a taste of your own medicine.
🖤 this fic name/song was inspired/requested by this ask and the concept was inspired/requested by this ask 💖 this is only the first part, and there will be multiple parts to this story. just a heads up, it gets rougher.
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peaches & eggplants part one 💖
You knew Chris and Matt were going to punish you for what you were about to do, but you just couldn't wait until they were done streaming. They were both perched at the edge of their seats in front of the monitor while Matt played fortnite and Chris watched, arguing amongst each other while a naughty idea crossed your mind.
The viewers weren't supposed to know you were in the room with them, so you hung back out of view of the camera. The nice thing about this was Matt and Chris couldn't stop you without drawing attention to you, and you knew they wouldn't do that, and with Nick still out of the country, you could practically get away with anything temporarily.
You stayed out of sight from the audience while you got on your hands and knees and stealthily crawled across the floor until you were under the desk between Matt's legs. He and Chris were both in grey sweatpants, and they knew how mad it drove you whenever they'd wear them.
You peered up at the two brothers above you, both sets of eyes fixed on the screen, blissfully unaware of what you had up your sleeve. Your red-painted fingernails gently brushed over the bulge in Matt's sweats, alerting him to your presence, and he looked down at you under the desk with a shocked expression on his face.
He quickly pulled his gaze back to Fortnite and tried to act like everything was normal, but he gently swatted away at your hand, a lazy attempt to get you to cut it out. You persisted, tugging at the waistband until Matt's member sprung out from behind the cotton fabric.
This sudden movement tipped off Chris to your mischevious plan to get one - or both - of them off while on stream with thousands of people. Chris stared down at you in disbelief as you wrapped your hand around Matt's already half-hard cock and started playing with it while you innocently looked into his eyes, nibbling on your lower lip.
He clenched his jaw, giving you a flash of contempt, and you batted your eyelashes at him as if to silently say, "Oh, what? You're mad at little old me?"
Chris couldn't take his eyes off of the way you skillfully stroked Matt's length, and the audience started to notice the shift in the energy.
"What do you guys think they're looking at?" One fan asked. "What's under the desk?" Someone else typed into the chat.
Matt thanked a few people who gifted while trying to remain composed, but you made that incredibly difficult when you wrapped your lips around him and started gently sucking on the tip, making him fully erect.
Chris stared down in awe at the way you teased his brother, secretly wishing he could feel your mouth. Matt started playing badly due to the distraction in the room, but other than that, he did a decent job at acting nonchalant.
That was until you made his entire rod disappear behind your lips, the head lightly tickling the back of your throat. He threw his head back and let out a sigh but tried to play it off as a reaction to his character dying in the game.
Matt peeked down every few seconds to steal a glance at the way you looked nearly swallowing him whole. He secretly loved having you do such an intimate thing while trying to keep it a secret from thousands of people.
You furiously pumped your hand back and forth while you bobbed up on and down on Matt's length, and he placed his hand over his mouth to suppress the sounds he so desperately wanted to make and to conceal the way he was gnawing through his bottom lip.
Before he could get too close, you took your attention away from Matt and made your way between Chris' legs. He intently watched you with his eager, blue eyes and even lifted his hips for you to help get his sweats off. He relished in the sensation of your soft, pink lips engulfing his member, your tongue swirling around on his mushroom-shaped tip, and your hand massaging his shaft.
Since he was just watching Matt play Fortnite, he was able to let his hands wander. He combed his fingers through your hair and placed his palm on the back of your head, encouraging you to take him deeper. You looked up at him with your big, hungry eyes while you quietly gagged on his cock.
You took him out of your mouth, kneeling down beneath the two of them while you stroked them both at the same time. The two brothers did their best to hold it together and keep their eyes on the screen, but you just looked so good teasing them that they couldn't properly focus.
A few more suspecting people spoke up in the chat. "What does Chris keep looking at?"
"Why is Chris smiling down at his lap?"
"Wonder why Matt is playing so badly. They should play DTI."
You continued pumping your hands back and forth, seeing which of them you could make cum first, like it was a game. Both of their swollen tips stared back at you, leaking a pretty, pearlescent substance. Simultaneously, both of their cocks began twitching against your palms, and they each erupted, blowing their loads into your hands while they each let out a satisfied sigh.
Thankfully, Matt's character died once more at the same time they both finished, so given the context, most of the audience misconstrued their sounds as disappointment. But a few chats came through, speculating.
"Why did that sound so...?"
"That's how I'm trying to make them sound."
As their thick, white fluids coated both of your hands, Matt and Chris said their goodbyes to the chat. "We have a persistent problem we need to go take care of," Chris stated, glancing down at you before ending the stream.
You knew you were in for it, and you didn't know in which way they would punish you, but a mixture of excitement and nervousness flooded your system once the camera was off.
"You like being a naughty little whore, huh? Making me and my brother cum on stream together?" Matt inquired, giving you a serious look. "Yeah, you like making a fool out of us? Couldn't wait til we were done, you desperate little slut?" Chris smirked down at you.
"You know, Chris. I think we should give her a taste of her own medicine," Matt declared, looking over at his brother. "I think that's the best idea you've ever had, Matt. Needy little whore should know how it feels to try to hold it together while having an audience," Chris replied, reaching under the desk and dragging you out from under it.
"Go be a good girl for once, go wash off your hands, and put on your prettiest dress for us, hmm?" Matt requested. You nodded and did as he said while Matt and Chris changed out of their cum soaked sweats and into nice outfits as well.
They both put on white tank top, jeans, and flannels, and when they emerged from their bedrooms, Matt was holding a pair of handcuffs, and Chris had a bandana in his hand. You were in a simple black dress and red heels that matched your manicured nails, and they both looked you up and down while they came up behind you.
"It's better if you don't fight back, princess," Matt whispered into your ear while he closed the handcuffs down around your wrists. "Yeah, we're just gonna take you somewhere real nice. That's all," Chris whispered into your other ear while he blindfolded you with the bandana.
Your mind explored the possibilities while the two brothers each grabbed one of your arms, yanking you around and leaving red marks on your flesh while they forced you out to the car and practically threw you into the back seat.
Matt got into the driver's seat, and you heard the familiar sound of the key turning in the ignition and the engine turning over while you felt Chris get into the back seat with you. The car started moving, and you had no idea where the three of you were going, but the unknown intrigued you, and you felt a warm, wet sensation forming between your legs.
This was made worse when Chris grabbed ahold of your face with his rough, veiny hands, forced open your jaw, and stuck his long fingers into your mouth. "You've been a bad little girl," Chris taunted you while you sucked on his fingers. He relished in how soft and wet your pretty little mouth felt.
Once he removed his digits from your throat, he delivered a few swift smacks across your face. "Can't wait to punish you, darling," Chris growled, his warm breath on your earlobe. Chris dug in between your legs and started poking and prodding around your pink folds.
"Oh, naughty girl. You're so wet," Chris gasped, slipping his fingers into your heat and curling them until he hit your gspot. You whimpered against Chris' chest while he pentetrated you hard and fast, telling you what a naughty girl you were for liking it so much.
Before he could draw an orgasm out of you, he withdrew his fingers, and you could hear him licking them clean, accompanied by a primal groaning sound while he savored your taste. He then shoved his digits back into your mouth, filling your tastebuds with your own flavor and his saliva.
"Like the way you taste, pretty girl?" Chris cooed. "Mhmmm," you whined while he finger-fucked your throat, making you gag some more before removing them.
"You make such pretty sounds when I use you," Chris whispered, wrapping his bony fingers around your throat and choking you while he shook you around, and when you opened your mouth to take a breath, he spit in it. He smiled at the way you swallowed it for him.
You couldn't get enough of the way Chris handled you, treating you like a little doll that was made solely for his pleasure. Tears started to roll down your cheeks while Chris cut off your air flow. "Aw, little baby's gonna cry? I'll give you something to cry about," Chris taunted you.
You felt the car stop, and you heard Matt say from the front seat, "I'll be right back. Make sure she doesn't misbehave any more than she already has."
Chris reached underneath your dress, taking off your panties and he shoved them into your mouth while he admired your sweet, wet pussy. He started exploring the delicate folds with his fingers, teasing your slit, and rubbing your sensitive clit.
"If you're gonna be a little slut, I'm gonna treat you just like one," Chris told you, and without warning, his hand came down hard as he slapped your pretty little cunt, making it even more swollen. You jumped and squealed as more tears ran down your cheeks, pleasure and pain creating a wonderful concoction in your system.
You weren't sure how public of a place Matt had parked in, but it excited you to think about your pussy on display for anyone who walked by the car to see while you were in such a compromised position. More tears streamed down your face, and Chris taunted you some more. "Gonna cry for me?" He asked teasingly, slapping your pussy some more.
Finally, Matt came back to the car. "Oh, good. You already got her panties off of her?" Matt smiled down at you, fiddling with the package he'd just bought while he admired your swollen, puffy lips between your legs from the way Chris played rough with you. Your mind swirled with excitement about what they were going to do to you.
"Put these on her," Matt demanded, handing Chris something. Suddenly, you felt Chris slipping something onto your bottom half that seemed to be a pair of underwear, but not the ones you came here with that were crammed into your mouth.
"You have to download an app to control them," Matt told Chris, looking at the directions on the package. What were they talking about? Before much longer, you felt a buzzing sensation against your clit, and you started to squirm and whine. Vibrating panties?
"It's working," Chris said, reaching between your legs to feel the vibration. "Alright, princess. Let's go," Matt called back to you from the front seat as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Chris continued to manhandle you while he teased you with the vibrating underwear, playing with the settings to see how you'd react to them. He took your supple breasts out of your dress and lightly pinched your nipples between his teeth, causing them to stiffen.
Your moans were distorted by the fact that the underwear were still stuffed in your mouth, and Chris graciously removed them for you once you felt the car slow. When it came to a full stop, Chris was unlocking the cuffs and untying the bandana you had wrapped around your head, and when you saw the two boys in front of you, they were smirking and chuckling at you.
Matt threw your purse at you and said, "Fix your hair and your makeup. You look like a cheap slut." You cleaned up your running mascara, touched up your eyeliner that had been rubbed away, and reapplied your smeared red lipstick. You had just finished smoothing out your stray hairs when you peered up from the little mirror in your hand and realized you were in the parking lot of a fancy Italian restaurant.
"Fuck," you whispered, realizing what this meant. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt asked you in a fake sympathetic tone as it dawned on you. "Yeah, what's the matter, baby? You don't want us to make you cum with those little vibrating panties while we eat dinner in this crowded restaurant?" Chris chuckled at you. You looked at both of the boys wide-eyed and gulped. "What? You can dish it, but you can't take it?" Matt asked.
The three of you got out of the car. As you started walking toward the entrance, Chris turned the vibrating underwear back onto the first setting, and he watched you nearly stumble. They laughed at you, and Chris mimicked the way you almost tripped, making them laugh harder.
"Okay, princess. Now just tell them we need a table for three," Matt told you as you guys started to make your way through the door. They let you lead the way and approach the hostess stand, but right as you opened your mouth to speak, Chris turned the panties up a setting. Your breath caught in your throat, and your eyebrows furrowed, but you managed to get out the words, "Table for three, please." The hostess gave you a weird look but led you guys to a booth towards the back.
There were a few tables around where you guys sat, and you surveyed the people sitting at them, wondering if they had any idea they were getting dinner and a show. Chris and Matt sat next to each other across from you, and the hostess told you guys your server would be with you in just a moment.
Once you got into the booth, you crossed your legs to muffle the sound of the vibrating, but having your thighs squeezed together made the sensation feel more intense. Both Chris and Matt peered up at you from their menus, smirking. "Look at how pathetic she looks. She can barely keep it together," Chris said as you slouched down in your seat and bit your lip to keep a whimper from escaping.
There was a secret part of you that loved being teased in such a public place, but you still would have been mortified if anyone had found out what the three of you were up to. You sat up straight in your seat when the server came back to grab drink orders. Chris ordered a Pepsi, of course, Matt, a water, and you requested a peach bellini.
You figured if you were going to be humiliated and get your rocks off in a restaurant full of people, you might as well get drunk while doing it.
When the waiter asked to see your ID, you reached into your purse with a trembling hand, retrieved it, and slid it over towards him on the table. "Thank you, Miss," he said, studying the photo and your facial features to make sure they matched up. He slid it back over to you and walked away to go fetch your drinks.
Before you could pick it up at put it back in your purse, Chris reached over and snatched it away from you, looking at your driver's license photo that you hated of yourself. "I don't know, Matt. She had to show this horrible picture of herself to our waiter. That might be humiliation enough," Chris meanly joked. Matt chuckled along and rolled his eyes.
You stood up and went to grab it from Chris, but he pulled it back. "Hey. Don't bite the hand that feeds you. Or the hand that's controlling your vibrating panties right now," Chris said in a low, serious voice. Then he took your ID and flung it at you. It landed in your lap, and you scooped it up and tossed it back into your bag.
Matt and Chris stared at you lustfully and hungrily as you tried to hold it together while Chris played around with the different levels, alternating between the first three. Every time you looked like you were holding it together too well, he'd turn it up a notch, and any time your legs started to shake, and your eyes rolled back into your head while you gripped the fabric of the booth beneath you, he'd turn it down.
The server returned to take your food order, and the boys agreed upon bruschetta as an appetizer. Chris ordered himself chicken alfredo, and Matt ordered chicken parmigiano. When the server got to you, you cleared your throat, sat up taller, and tried to ignore the way you were being broken down slowly by the powerful sensation between your legs that was being controlled by the two gorgeous men across from you.
"I'll have the eggplant parmigiano, please," you managed to say, looking almost completely normal besides your flushed face and the bead of sweat that formed on your brow. The server took your menus and told you he'd return shortly with your drinks.
"Let me see it," Matt said to Chris, reaching for his phone. Chris handed it off to him, and Matt looked at you intently with a devilish grin as he kicked it up to level four. You slouched over onto the table and buried your head in your hands, completely unable to hide the pleasure written into your expression.
You peered back up at Matt with the neediest look in your eye, and your lips slightly parted while you started to tremble again. Matt shut off the vibration completely and watched the disappointed look come across your face as he ruined your orgasm. "You think I'd let you cum right away? After that shit you pulled earlier. Nah, you've been a naughty girl," Matt murmured, turning it back on to level one.
The waiter brought over your drinks, and you weakly smiled at him as he walked away. Matt turned the vibrator up a setting as an older lady made eye contact with you, and you sputtered on your alcoholic drink as you took a big sip. She shot you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes back into the back of your head and bit down on your lip.
You knew you weren't being sneaky, but you couldn't help the way you were being manipulated by two boys, a pair of vibrating underwear, and a remote control app.
The server made his way back again, bringing the bruschetta out on his way to greet another table that had just been sat in the section. You took another sip of your bellini, preparing for the night to be long and embarrassing.
Chris and Matt both indulged in the appetizer, obnoxiously licking the balsamic glaze from their fingers and making animalistic sounds while they made eye contact with you. They knew what they were doing, and it was working. Your mind wandered, imagining how they'd lick their digits clean after fingering you, much like Chris had earlier on during the ride to the restaurant.
"Naughty girl, keep your mind out of the gutter," Chris replied, sucking on his finger, smirking, and narrowing his eyes as if he was inside your head, and in a way, he was. You picked up your bellini glass with a shaky hand and took another big drink.
The waiter came back around to check out refills, and when he asked if you'd like another one, motioning towards your nearly empty glass, Matt turned the setting up another notch, and without thinking, you grabbed onto the waiter's arm, practically whimpering, "Yes please."
He gave you a confused look and gently tugged his arm away from you. "Sorry. She gets a little touchy when she's tipsy," Chris apologized for you, and the waiter brushed it off and walked away.
Matt and Chris both made fun of how you were unable to hold up any kind of facade, and they decided to cut you some slack for a bit, so you could enjoy your food when it came out. The waiter delivered your meals and another round of drinks for you all while you tried to catch your breath and dabbed the sweat from your face.
You were about half-way through your plate and halfway done with your second fruity, bubbly beverage before Chris took his phone back from his brother and started turning on the panties again. You looked at them both and all you could think about was how badly you wanted them to use all your holes when you guys got home, and a few needy whines passed through your pretty lips.
The waiter came back around to ask if you guys were enjoying your food, and all you could do in response was tell him, "It's sooo good," in a sultry voice while you peered up at him with desire in your eyes and bit down on your knuckles to suppress another moan. He gave you an inquisitive look and then looked toward the boys sitting across from you, asking if you guys wanted to order anything else after your meals.
"We'd love to all share the classic vanilla ice cream, please," Chris told the waiter, and then he smirked up at you, knowing how torturous it was going to be for you to hold it together through dessert, too. The server nodded and walked off to go update the bill.
You tried to finish your food and your drink while you tried to seem as put together as possible. Chris played with the settings again, bringing you as close to orgasm as he could before yanking it away from you and repeating this while you pathetically writhed in the booth across from him.
A few people who were sitting around you guys started to catch on. Some of them gave you disgusted looks and tried to ignore what you and the boys were doing. Some couldn't keep their eyes off you, hungrily looking you up and down as they silently prayed they'd get to watch you come undone in the restaurant.
The server returned with the ice cream and three spoons, and he bussed the dishes out of your way. Chris turned up the vibrating panties to the highest setting. "Have some ice cream, princess," Chris whispered, handing you a spoon.
Hell, you were already indulging in a form of public sex, indulging in good food and alcohol, and so you might as well complete the hedonist trifecta and indulge in sugar as well.
With a trembling hand, you grabbed the handle and got a small scoop of ice cream, and stuck it into your mouth. "Mmmm," you moaned, which was partially a response to the taste and partially a response to the frequencies buzzing against your sensitive cunt.
"I sure do love ice cream," Chris declared, getting a spoonful of it and making sure to suggestively lick his utensil clean while he looked in your eyes. "I love eating it and licking it up," Chris moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head, taunting you.
Matt followed, seductively lapping up the dessert. He looked directly at you while he dragged his tongue across the spoon in a long, slow lick.
As you imagined how their tongues would feel manipulating your pussy, your orgasm tore through you with incredible force. It took everything in you to conceal the reaction your body was having, and it was impossible to be completely subtle.
Your legs shook involuntarily as you held them crossed together tightly, and you grabbed onto the booth seat to anchor yourself while your climax crashed over you like a wave, eager to sweep you away in its current. You furrowed your brows, closed your eyes, and a few loud moans escaped your lips while your orgasm took its course.
When you opened your eyes, almost everyone around you was staring at you, including the waiter who had dropped off the check while you were in the midst of enjoying yourself.
"Let's go before someone calls the cops and reports us for public indecency," Chris smirked at you guys, tossing a few hundred dollar bills on the table, giving the server an extra big tip for having to put up with your guys' shenanigans, and the three of you fled the restaurant.
High on adrenaline, you guys piled into the car and peeled out of the parking lot.
"I hope you guys didn't like that restaurant too much, because I don't think we could ever go back. They'll probably put a picture up of our faces in the front like they do with dine and dashers," Matt chuckled from the driver's seat.
"More like dine and smash," Chris joked, and the three of you burst into hysterical laughter.
After the snickering died down, Chris let out a huge sigh and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling out his big, hard dick. Your jaw dropped, and your mouth widened as you watched it practically jump out of his pants.
He wrapped his arm around you and pushed your head down, lowering your mouth onto his cock and whispered in a demanding tone, "We're not done with you yet, whore. Don't just think that 'cause we're laughing, you're done receiving your punishment."
part two here 💖
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simplyholl · 6 months ago
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The Interview
Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.
Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.
See My Masterlist Here
A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.
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"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.
The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.
They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.
The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.
You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.
"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.
Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.
Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.
You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.
Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.
When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.
Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.
You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.
Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.
"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.
He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.
"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.
Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.
You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.
Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.
"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.
Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.
"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.
Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.
"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.
Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."
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halfvalid · 1 year ago
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pretty in that
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ABOUT
rating: general audiences
characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami
pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader
word count: 4.2k
description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!
tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro
author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!
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You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 
Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 
“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 
“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 
“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 
Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 
“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 
“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 
“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 
“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 
“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 
“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 
“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 
“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 
“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 
“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 
“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 
“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 
“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 
“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 
“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.
“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 
Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 
“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 
Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 
“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 
“Not really what I’m into.” 
“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”
“Three swords, three earrings.” 
“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 
“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 
“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 
You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 
“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 
“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 
You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 
Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 
“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 
“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 
“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 
“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 
“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 
“You always look nice.” 
You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 
Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 
Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 
“Better how?” 
“You can probably run in it.” 
You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 
Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 
To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 
Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 
He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 
You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 
“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 
“Because of… clothing?” 
You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 
“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 
“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 
“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 
Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 
Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 
You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 
Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 
You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 
Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.
Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 
“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 
“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 
“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 
‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 
“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 
“Let me see.” 
You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 
“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 
“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 
“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 
“Oh.” 
Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 
There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 
You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 
“You’re acting weird.” 
“Am not.” 
Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”
“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.
“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 
You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 
“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 
“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”
Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”
“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 
“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 
“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 
Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 
“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 
“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 
“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 
“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 
Your breath caught. 
“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 
“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 
You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 
Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 
“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 
“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 
“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 
“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 
“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.
You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 
“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 
“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 
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amberautumnfaebrooke · 1 year ago
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i think i could design a better death arena for children than those hunger games amateurs.
the whole premise of the games is all pageantry. every year you get a crop of 24 candidates around whom the entire state media apparatus dedicates an entire year to building celebrity narratives. this candidate is the younger sibling of last year's winner - these candidates are young lovers forced to compete - he's smart - she's fast - root for them, care about them, watch them, form opinions on them, bet on them. and then they stick them all in an arena to kill each other, which is a great entertainment premise, except that they make the arenas themselves really boring and generic. ooo, they're in...a forest.
it's not even an interestingly designed forest. imagine if the game designers treated their arena like an actual video game designer treats level design. discrete zones with multiple paths between each room, creative use of lighting to guide players to points of interest, points of interest scattered across the map, discoverable resources hidden to encourage exploration. instead they just have a generic outdoors location and if you get too close to the edge they throw a random fireball at you.
the 75th games are especially bad about this. the arena is laid out radially into 12 wedges, and each hour one wedge becomes especially dangerous in a 12-hour loop. as a mechanic, this is genius. it forces everyone to keep moving, making "survival by hiding" an engaging and tense viewing experience instead of someone sitting in a tree for three days. plus, it encourages players to return to the center of the arena, where travel time between wedges is short, which creates a high-value zone for players to regularly return to and conflict over. in other words, it's a mechanic which incentives players to adopt dramatic, dynamic, exciting behaviors which are entertaining to watch (not to mention it communicates geography to the audience well). but it only incentives those behaviors if the players understand what's happening, and they go out of their way not to tell the players anything! when they figure out what's going on, the showrunners spin the arena to disorient the players, like they're intentionally trying to get them to just. randomly wander the jungle instead.
this isn't even to mention how often they create undramatic, boring deaths. they plant poison berries around the arena. they supply no fresh water and no way to get it. they roll poison clouds over sleeping victims. these happen to work out in the books themselves but you have to imagine that extremely often these just result in players dying unexciting deaths.
the cardinal sin though, of course, is that nothing is done to personalize the arena for the crop of contestants that year. if i'm designing the 75th hunger games and two of my most beloved contestants famously had to cancel their wedding because of a return to the games, i would OBVIOUSLY give them a trail of, i don't know, wild game which conveniently leads directly past a well defended wedding chapel. will they hole up there for a while? hold a mock ceremony for themselves? do or receive ironic violence here? stare wistfully and move on? any of it is better television than getting attacked by generic attack monkeys. you should have a dozen of these things on the map for every single candidate. but the game makers are more interested in doing the same thing every other game has done than in telling a compelling story.
it makes me second guess enjoying the children's murder arenas at all.
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