#This would make a framed poster

[gemwing1988]

The cover for a vinyl soundtrack for the Cuphead Show.

Really love this. The people who made the show happen really know how to deliver some amazing goods.

[campterodactyl]

RRR Full Movie 1 Frame / shot : D

Inspired by @madebyframe exept here, every single picture is different and meticulously selected by hand. XD

[caterpillarinacave]

Have I ever mentioned how much I love the NATM1 movie posters? I’m not sure why but the lighting, the warmth, all of the exhibits around it’s so 2000s. It’s so fun. It’s so visually appealing. Feels like childhood. Phenomenal.

[lucksea]

animatic update ive actually like dedicated a couple layers to lyric screenshots + breakdowns and plans for each one and thumbnails for some of the frames. this has made me realize quite clearly that i just do not ahve any ideas for the second bridge and chorus currently. so i might have to go rewatch the taiga movie or something so i can finish this project

[veunho]

I love love love drawing but I cannot draw poses in any circumstances

[dihalect]

i need to post about palestine on facebook but i'm fucking terrified

[binch-i-might-be]

the way I just almost wept while opening up my new fma manga box set

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️

[ishikawayukis]

i wanna change my framed posters for paintings but i don't want like a random ass pretty painting i wanna make something that i like, like a character but also subtle enough that it's not obvious i have anime framed in my walls (nothing wrong with that just not my vibe) and i'm wrecking my brain trying to think What to make while also knowing is just very likely i won't make shit

[ozzgin]

I just watched The First Omen at the cinema and you may go ahead and cuff me for blasphemy, but…

Devil x Reader

You have been chosen by the Cult as the one to carry their ungodly plan after many failed attempts. This time it was a success, yet not for the reasons they might expect. The Devil has his eyes on you.

Content: female reader, mentions of pregnancy, religious themes, blasphemy, violence, horror, a non-consent scene!, based on The First Omen (2024); image from the promotional poster

Why you, of all people? You're not particularly devoted to religion, nor do you stand out in terms of virtuousness. Or lack of, for that matter. Alas, their reasons remain unknown.

What's certain is that you woke up one day and found yourself strapped to a foreign bed, staring into a ceiling you didn't recognize. You weren't alone. Around your helpless form stood men and women, dressed in black and wearing a solemn smile. Your forehead received a gentle, encouraging stroke from the hand of the priest. The scent of chrism invaded your nostrils.

You begged them to release you. The older man spoke softly in your ear. "You are serving a greater purpose. It is all in the name of God." God? Purpose? You rolled your eyes back and gazed upon the large painting hanging behind you. Virgin Mary and her blissful smile and stretched out hands felt like a mockery.

The holy image vanished as a black cloth was nonchalantly draped over your face. You felt the rope tighten around your neck and begun gasping for the scarce air barely making it through the thick canvas. A crescendo of muffled chants, and the room went abruptly quiet. Had everyone left?

Then you heard it. That profane growl, causing the entirety of your body to shiver in repugnance and terror. You trashed, and pulled, and screamed, to no avail. A clawed hand rested on your bare stomach, then a second one traced the rest of your body. You laid limp, vision blurred as the room swayed in tandem with the sacrilegious act.

You'd been defiled by a Beast. The next time you opened your eyes, you were back in your bed. Your hopes of it being a mere nightmare were shattered the moment you lifted your gown and noticed the deep scratches, the monstrous prints left on your skin, and the hollow sensation in the pit of your stomach. Your body had been tampered with, and something was growing out of your misfortune. A vile blight, throbbing with life within the comfort of your flesh.

You spent the months haunted by voices and visions. The grotesque, horned Creature would frequently reappear in your mind, exhausting all other thoughts. Such a heavy, imposing presence. It wouldn't let you forget, not even for a second: you belonged to Him, and He would soon return to retrieve you. The mother of His child, the object of His adoration. Was such a thing even conceivable?

You prayed to be left alone, yet the Cult naturally longed for its promised gift, bound to come back eventually. And so, once more, you were facing the people who caused your despair. "We've come for the child", the priest explained, glancing at your obvious, bulging belly. The clawed hand framing it was still a fresh wound that never healed, almost as an ominous warning: this body was owned by a jealous God.

Your trembling hands revealed a pocketknife. This time, you were prepared. The group took a moment to observe your daring gesture, then proceeded to approach you with calculated steps, with newfound resolve. Would you be able to keep them away? Their intentions were clear: you were in possession of the Antichrist, and they needed to secure this immense power.

The ground shook, and everyone froze. You glanced at the altar painting, the same one that witnessed your corruption. Virgin Mary remained with an unfaltering smile. From behind the ornate frame, large, horrid hands creeped out. A travesty of everything Holy. The priest gasped and quickly threw his hands in prayer. This was not part of the plan. This was not meant to happen.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis-" he began, but his voice was cut short. His face turned pale, and he clutched his chest with a terrible grimace. The nun next to him let out a scream before she was pushed away by an invisible force. Her body hit the wall with a loud, wet sound of bones breaking and flesh tearing. You stared at the massacre unfolding before you, devoid of any fear. Somehow, in the depths of your soul, you knew you'd be safe.

An enormous shadow emerged from behind the painting, twisting, bending, stalking towards you. Your nose scrunched at the stench of blood. You were the last one standing among corpses. To your surprise, you exhaled deeply, shoulders drooping in comfort. A silent voice murmured in your ear, telling you not to fear. That Father was finally home for you.

Foolish, ridiculous humans. He'd been willing to entertain their petty plans of grandeur, until he met you: your tender, frail body, your innocent soul. How exalting it was to have his way with you. You were meant to be the one. To carry His offspring into the damned world. But not for some trifling reason of a Cult desperate to crawl their way back into control. Their greatest mistake - which led to their demise - was to assume the Devil himself can be controlled, ordered around. He has allowed you the greatest honor of joining him, out of your free will, to sow the seeds of chaos as his beloved mortal.

Thus, he couldn't have possibly allowed anyone to interfere. What you saw that day, in that old, musty underground cavern, was an omen: a bloodbath awaits the one who dares to approach his human.

You look up into the demonic orbs: trenches of madness, obsession, vulgarity, burning holes into you, slurping your very existence with hunger and lust. You are his.

[homunculus-argument]

When it comes to "such a raw line" sort of sentences you find on the internet, The Stupendium is one hell of a source for them. I keep being impressed by just how much one person can be exactly where they should be - I'm not kidding, this mf could make it as a poet, as a musician, on the stage performing Shakespeare, but instead they decided to use this impressive mashup of skills they have to rap about videogames. Yeah I shit you not, they actually pull it off. I don't listen to rap and I don't play videogames and this is good.

This one specific song had one line that made me think that it would make a really funny "live, laugh, love" -style saccharine wall sticker or framed unintelligble calligraphy poster, you know that type of decor I'm talking about. But then it struck me, hold on, that one would make a fucking hilarious cutesy grandma cottagecore cross stitch with flowers all around it. Then I decided that fuck it, I have to design that, I'm going to turn that into a cross stitch pattern.

And uh. Suddenly it's 10 pm. And instead of whatever else I could have done today, I made this:

[johnbrand]

OnlyFags

With @boysmentfs

“God already? I just bought these like a month ago!”

Elliot tossed his headphones aside, annoyed. When he had bought the gaming headset, he had expected them to be excellent. So many other gamers had recommended the pair, but now they would not even connect to his monitor. Seeing that they were cordless, they were practically rendered useless.

Desperate, a risky idea suddenly popped into Elliot’s head. His older brother Trent had a decent enough pair that he could borrow. The plan was a fool’s errand if Elliot was caught; his brutish, jock brother could wipe him out in seconds for entering his room. And already loaded with emotional ammo on numerous accounts (being smaller, having intelligence, liking boys), Elliot was sure to end up at least hypothetically dead. 

But Elliot also knew that Trent was not coming home that night. He was over at his current girlfriend’s place, meaning all Elliot had to do was replace the headphones exactly as he found them. Enjoying the sense of danger, Elliot mischievously tip-toed out of his room–despite no one else being home–and carefully approached Trent’s door. His brother’s room was not any different from the stereotypical straight man’s quarters: sparsely decorated besides a poster of bimbos with a rock band, dirty clothes and foul-smelling shoes scattered on the floor, and an American flag on the far wall. 

Carefully avoiding the piles of empty beer cans, Elliot held his breath, hoping to not let any of his brother’s potent body odor enter his system. He eventually reached his destination, taking a seat at Trent’s desk and pushing aside anything that could dirty his bright-colored polo and shorts. It was easy to log into his brother’s computer and bypass the security functions, but Elliot had not expected to run into a problem with the Bluetooth compatibility. Until he disconnected the headphones from a specific site, Elliot would not be able to use them. It was a simple task, until Elliot realized it was a webcam site.

“OnlyFags?!” Elliot gasped. He would have never guessed Trent, the prime example of a cocky homophobic hetero alpha, would have been involved in OnlyFags–let alone a creator. The webcam site was practically known worldwide as a hate group–straight men teasing desperate, horny gays to make money. It was horrific, and yet it had somehow consistently exceeded expected profits. 

Trying his best to ignore this discovery and get back to the task at hand, Elliot logged into his brother’s OnlyFags account, hoping to be able to disconnect the headphones once and for all. The loading screens were long and annoying, spirals that seemed to go on for longer than necessary, but eventually Elliot navigated to the devices page. Instead of disconnecting his headphones however, he accidentally reconnected his brother’s camera.

“Oh no…please no,” Elliot squirmed. Before long, people hopped onto his feed, commenting about this new arrival. Elliot nervously tried to escape the program but every attempt appeared to fail, only booting up the loading screen once more without ever reaching an end destination. Elliot quickly put on one of his brother’s caps and held his head low, hoping the audience would think it was Trent until he was able to exit. His panic was rapidly rising, but out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention. One of his unfortunate viewers had a request, stating that he should flex.

A sudden calm befell Elliot, and although his musculature was not visible, he surprisingly felt comfortable posing for the webcam. The timid act was not much, but it garnered a reaction from the viewers. Another requested for Elliot to flex from a different position, and he obliged, his slim frame gaining a small but fair applause from the gay audience. After succumbing to a few more requests, Elliot was soon hooked, continuously switching between the loading screen and listening to his fans. It did not take long until he started receiving messages requesting to start stripping, and to his own surprise, Elliot fulfilled them.

When one of the viewers typed that he wanted to see Elliot show off his “mammoth arms,” he willingly struck a pose. He did not hesitate to prove the next commenter wrong, who insisted his legs could not be “hardened with muscle and bloated out like massive logs of meat.” Elliot immediately tossed his legs up unto Trent’s desk, showcasing what one member of the audience guessed were Size 13 feet. The shirt was removed after Elliot had to prove his “hard six-pack,” the shorts already off before he was told to showcase the “classic bubble butt only these guys have.” 

Soon, the comments were less focused on requests and more so just stating observations. Elliot went back and forth between his live webcam and checking in on the spiral, although his panic had long subsided. “An abundance of body hair,” “Exudes arrogance and privilege,” “Only wants to play, get laid, and look good.” Eventually, Elliot even began to relish in the attention, becoming excited as his audience grew more vocal and engaged. This attention soon had Elliot massaging his member, his thick hands pumping the growing meat. It took his roused audience moments to realize this, yet Elliot was no longer afraid to respond to their excitement.

“You like that, don’t you?” Elliot’s voice oozed all-American jock. The crowd went wild, calling him irresistible, a pure stud. One viewer daydreamed what he was jacking off to, but another replied before Elliot could. “Probably cheerleaders or sorority chicks, these guys are all the same.” Elliot was about to reply differently, but a quick check in with the loading screen flashed a new image through his mind.

Tits. Touching them, motorboating them, and then finding his way down to the pussy. These images, these memories, made Elliot moan. The words almost left his mouth, but he knew his viewers would not be turned on hearing about his new and yet natural desire to breed and seed every chick he saw. No, he knew what they wanted to hear.

“That's it, you dumb horny faggot. You like this, don’t you?” Ethan smirked, continuing to pleasure his giant cock. OnlyFags terms and conditions were simple, but ironclad. Upon starting an account, creators had to “verify” they were straight, users endured the same sign-up requirements. “Blow your faggy brains out to a straight alpha like me, right now. Spend that useless cum, waste it on me.” When the system had detected Trent’s account had broken this agreement, the issue was immediately resolved. 

Quickly, a sudden rush of pleasure overran the new man. “Oh yeah BROOO!” Ethan shouted, white goo spilling forth just outside of the camera’s view. He did not want another dude–especially a homo–to see his dick after all, which was slowly dropping back into its still large flaccid state. 

Ethan, now just another dumb, homophobic, straight jock, found himself content with his work, taking pride as the tributes started rolling in. Thanks to Trent's and his system–while one got laid the other was pumped live–the twins were making bank. And why would they ever stop working if they got paid to do what they loved? Jerking off and fag-bashing had never been better.

“Tune in tomorrow, fairies,” Ethan licked his lips as he prepared to sign off. Cockily, he began grabbing at his pec. “Tomorrow’s sesh will be seeing a little more of this…” He then brought a hand back to down his massive cock. “and a lot more of this.”

[kaissatou]

at your service

plug!choso x nervous!reader ♡ (i got the idea of plug choso from @blkkizzat thank you!!) .・゜゜・ you were never a heavy smoker. But if it means seeing that pretty emo boy, you might take it up. 1.7k

part 2

You don’t know why you assumed he would be scary. actually, you did- Though you’d never actually supplied your own weed from the plug yourself before, always choosing to watch by the side lines as Gojo very meticulously visited every dealer in the area under a one week span (and rating each one from a scale of 1 to 10- usually being a 4.5.) He never let you do the ‘dirty work’ yourself, as he liked to call it.

The only real image you had of dealers had been created and cultured up by stereotypes. Big, mean men facing big, mean prison sentences (if they were ever to get caught.) Or in movies, as even meaner men, tattooed drug lords with affiliations to the Italian mafia. You didn’t want to fuck with that.

But here you were now, on the doorstep of Gojo’s newest plugs apartment; an apparent ‘family friend’ ,which you thought looked all too nice to be the reside for a drug lord, the healthy potted plants which looked freshly watered and the welcome mat helping to steer your views and give you peace of mind, if only it was just a crumble. You can’t even remember how you let Satoru persuade you to do this. Maybe it was the promise of him making it up to you, which you would use to your advantage.

He never clarified that this so called ‘family friend’ had no actual connection to him, rather being a boy, who you now knew as Yuji (or pink hair boy’s) older brother.

Fixing your tote on your shoulder and bundling up your sleeves into stretched out material into your palms, you brought a nervous hand up to the door, shaking the door knocker once (and then once more for good luck) before stepping back, beyond the welcome mat, which was giving you the opposing idea of feeling anything but welcome, and further into the cramped space of his apartment building hallway, looking down at your feet.

You felt shy. Why, you didn’t know. You weren’t usually a shy person, per se. Quiet maybe, but never shy. Until now.

The door flies open.

Oh. Oh.

Reading glasses perched on his face, slightly wonky and drooped down to the bridge of his nose, hair messy with tousled strands loose, joggers sitting low on his hips, a contrast to the (all too tight) black compression shirt riding up slightly, giving you a glimpse of his sculpted body. A couple tattoos adorned his arms, fading into the sleeves of his shirt. You wondered if he had any more that you couldn’t see. Oh.

And then he’s leaning on the doorframe to look you up and down, and if your brain wasn’t short circuiting his gaze would’ve probably been uncomfortable. He clears his throat, knocking you back into reality.

Suddenly it feels all too hot in the corridor. Is it too late to leave? Glancing back to the elevator, if you ran it would take approximately 10 seconds to leave before he remembers your face-

“Hi.”

Ten seconds too late.

“Hi,” you look down at your shoes, knowing you will never hear the end of this from gojo. “I would like to buy some weed, please.”

He looks you up and down once more for good measure, then hums lowly to himself- which must be in acceptance and he’s opening the door further, and walking back inside his apartment. You take this as a sign to follow, stepping inside awkwardly and clasping your hands together, standing closely to the wall so if you need to run, you can. Then you remember he probably wants you to shut the door. Stop being an idiot.

It’s much more homely than you expected. There are framed photos scattered all around the place, most of them noticeably of him and Yuji, both smiling with wide grins. Where there aren’t photo frames there are posters, some of which you recognise. Metallica, Pierce The Veil, is that a My Chemical Romance vinyl?

“What do you want?” He’s fumbling through a box on a cabinet side, which suprises you when you notice it is pink, a harsh contrast to all the blacks and blues in his space.

“Um, weed,” he stops in his tracks at your words, looking right up at you. God, it is hot in here. His unwavering expression makes you question your previous words. “Please.”

And then you swear you see the ghost of a smile on his pretty lips, and he’s signalling with his large hand at you in a ‘come hither’ motion. You’re quick to react, scrambling closer to him so he is in just arms reach.

“I know that,” his voice is softer, gentler this time. “What type do you want?” You’re beginning to think he’s caught on to the fact that you’re new at this, and he’s trying not to scare you off. Is it that obvious? He leans over closer to you, his body heat practically radiating onto you. He proudly displays the contents of the case to you, running his fingers over clear baggies. “Like the strain,” he explains.

“Oh!” You smile sheepishly and scratch your neck. His attention switches from the case and back to you, tilting his head up to you to watch you in detail as you speak, making you crumble under his gaze. “Gojo usually gets it for me,” his expression changes into something unreadable. “He, uh, was busy.”

“Gotcha,” He signals a thumbs up to you then moves his attention back to the drugs. “I know what he likes,” he puts the contents of what you know now as, ‘Satoru’s favourite’, into a baggie, and shakes it a couple times before making sure it’s secure. Then he suddenly stops and turns back to you. “You know how to roll?”

No. You don’t. You contemplate lying to get out of his hair, but by the way he’s already opening the bag right back up, you’re sure your expression has already given you away. You’re about to tell him not to bother, but he’s already opening another box, and pulling out (more? You think you see a pattern going on here) pink rolling paper.

And then he’s licking the wrapping paper, and you know you’re a goner.

“He your boyfriend or somethin’?” He suddenly speaks up while grinding the weed, rendering you speechless. It takes you a good 10 seconds to finally figure out what, and who, he is talking about. His tone is unrecognisable, his expression unreadable as he bends slightly over the table.

“What, Gojo?” You scrunch your face up. “Ew, no way,” which makes him gaze back up at you, his hands still working on autopilot. “He’s just a friend. No more.”

He hums approvingly, making your heart flutter. You don’t even realise he’s rolled 4 perfect blunts until he’s standing up straightened infront of you. He drops them into a baggie as you rifle through your bag for your purse. He stops you. “What’s your name?” He questions out of the blue.

“Y/n,” you murmur. “What’s yours? And how much do I owe you?”

He places the baggie in your grasp and shrugs his hands. “Choso,” you put the bag in your tote, hands itching to find your purse. And then he’s walking across the room, leaving you alone and confused. “Give it to me next time.”

“What?” You quickly follow him, stppping in your tracks behind him as he takes his reading glasses off and places them on a desk, ruffling his hair before turning back to you. He gives you a sly grin.

“Come to me next time, Kay? Not Gojo. Pay me back then,” your face blushes a sickening red, thought there’s really no need to. He’s not flirting. He’s just being friendly. So why does it make your chest tighten and your heart fuzzy?

“Okay.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Can’t believe you’ve got the hots for Choso Kamo.” Satoru’s words are muffled as he shoves yet another candy in his mouth. But you can understand him perfectly.

Did you? Well, you couldn’t deny that he was indeed very pretty. But you didn’t know anything about him. You didn’t know if he had a girlfriend. Oh, you hoped not.

He seemed oddly put together for a dealer. At first it was the potted plants, and then it was the framed photos, and then it was the glasses. A part of you yearned to know the books he’s read, his likes and dislikes, his- stop. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Gojo passes you the blunt.

“I have not!” You sit up, slapping the candy out of his hand, the gasp he lets out making you grin. The look Satoru gave you made it clearly known that he didn’t believe a word you said. And honestly, you didn’t either. You snatch the blunt from him, trying to (unsuccessfully) block him out.

Your eyes are red and hazy, and in a trance after smoking a blunt, (which heavily reminded you of the pretty little dealer) you made the horrific mistake of bringing up Choso, now subjected to his teasing.

“He wants to see you again. That’s very clear!” He accentuated his words as he sat up on his bed, slamming his hands on the mattress hard enough to make you jump.

“He probably just wants sales.” You defend, dropping you head back onto a plush pillow. You scoff and brush him off, though his words leave an empty pit in the bottom of your heart. Did he?

“He didn’t even take your money!�� His words bring a wide grin to your face, making you immediately bring your hands to your face to cover yourself from Gojo’s antics. “See!”

You roll your eyes. Gojo plucks the blunt back from your fingers, falling back onto the mattress beside you. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of you, the only sounds being the harsh breathing of Satoru as he takes another puff, and the consistent buzzing of the ceiling fan. Your eyes focused on it as it continued to spin in dizzy circles. 1, 2, 3-

Breaking the silence, you turn on your side to face Gojo again, red eyes blinking lazily. You speak, but no words come out. And then you try again. “Is he coming to your party?”

“Oh, you’re cooked.”

[elstattoo]

𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙙𝙪𝙚

MINORS DNI, MEN DNI

WC: 5.5k

Summary: Ellie invites you to a dance in Jackson, and you finally decided it was the night to make a move.

Content: 18+, jackson! ellie, loser! ellie, smut, public sex, switch! ellie, switch/sub! reader, fingering (e), scissoring, breeding kink, praise/dirty talk

Author’s Note: Hello! I finally finished this fic from my first request. I hope you guys enjoy! Sorry if it’s not exactly what was wanted… scissoring is just hot ☹️

Ellie felt like at any moment she might crack. The pressure of Jackson slowly getting to her, patrols dragging on constantly, and tonight… Of course, it was the party she’d dreaded since the posters were plastered around town. Everywhere, haunting her. No matter where she turned.  

She’d heard by ear from none other than Dina and Jesse, the two nagging her to invite you to go. The idea made butterflies flutter inside her stomach, cheeks burning — the stutter not going unnoticed by Dina, who teased her. 

Ellie felt herself wanting to hurl, anxiety overtaking her emotions as she finally braced herself to knock on your front door. Finally finding the courage to ask you to the party, even if it was tonight. Better late than never. With sweaty, shaky hands she knocked on your door, backing away afterward and tugging to fidget the sleeves of her flannel.  

The sound of your door opening made her jump, eyes jolting up to your familiar face. Her heart pumping in her ears, fidgeting, halting, before she cleared her throat to speak. “Hey, sorry for randomly dropping by… Just was wondering if you’d like to uh… Come to the dance with me?”

There you stood, hand still on the door with a confused look on your face at Ellie’s unexpected appearance before your lips morphed into a smile. You waved her in, “Let’s talk inside, Ellie.”

Still scatterbrained, Ellie nodded, following after you inside to the warmth of your home. The door closed with a click, and you hummed, turning to face her. “So… The dance you say? Yeah, I’d love to go with you! Also… why are you just wearing a flannel right now?” Your eyebrows furrowed upon seeing the light material draping over her shoulders, confusion to her idea of protection from the cold. 

Ellie’s mouth almost fell open, her jaw would be on the floor if it could be from how shocked she was. Ellie tried to shake off the feeling, tongue swiping over to wet her dry lips. “Yeah, and you’re like a house over from me…. It’s not THAT cold,” Ellie shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. Even though the weather in Jackson had her shivering at times, especially during the winter months. 

You let out a snort, walking over to Ellie, who stood awkwardly in the middle of your house — not knowing where to place herself. “Don’t play smart with me, we all know you’re freezing your ass off.”

Ellie shuffles at your words, “Oh, shut up, I’m fine!” She rolled her eyes, playfully, a grin stretching across her face. The jokes helped ease her anxiety, reminding her it was just you, and at the end of the day you were one of her closest friends, in all of Jackson. 

You returned her eye roll with your own, using your elbow to shove her into the side. She groaned, grabbing her side dramatically, and glaring at you. “How dare you?!” She gasps out, “Hitting my most vulnerable spot. Could’ve killed me…”  

That had you both erupting into a fit of laughter, you both almost felt like kids again from the exchanges you’d share like this. When the laughter in your chest finally died down, you were finally able to find the words to speak. 

“Seriously, though, I’d love to go to the dance with you. You should’ve asked me sooner!” 

Ellie let out a sigh and leaned her frame against your kitchen counter, “Fuck… Dunno you know how I am. Just get in my head and stuff.” 

Ellie always second-guessed everything she did when it came to you. No matter how much she journaled away her thoughts and feelings about you, she never could calm down the nerves that erupted when she was with you. 

Your hand brushed her shoulder, a shiver shot down her spine. Another reason, she second-guessed things, your friendship — was for reasons exactly like this. The way you held your hand on her shoulder, gently humming and holding eye contact with her made her crumble.

“We’re friends, El. You don’t have to be worried, not like I’d say no,” you whispered, so sweetly, leaning close to her ear, breath fanning the outer shell, and your hand was still pressed onto her shoulder. Then, in a blink of an eye you moved away again.

She nodded, “Yeah, of course. I’m really happy you agreed to come with me, I should uh… Go home and clean up before then… See you in a few hours?” She nervously smiled at you, still recovering from the littlest bit of contact you held on her shoulder. Ellie aways tried to play off your touches, even the lingering ones as something you did with everyone. 

“Of course, see you soon, El.” Your smile that held so much affection, adoration never left your face as you held the door open for her and waved goodbye, even waiting a few seconds to watch her silhouette leave your walkway to make her way home. 

Ellie huffed out a sigh of relief as she made it inside the warmth of her room. She collapsed onto her bed, a million thoughts drifting through her head, ones of excitement and anticipation of what the night would bring. 

Lying in her bed with her thoughts wasn’t doing her any good, she laid up, and walked over to her desk to jot in her journal.

“Holy fuck, still cannot believe she said yes,” Ellie whispered, grabbing a pen and opening to a blank page. She always started her entries on new pages, or sometimes even updated them, later in the day. 

Ellie got to writing, finding it somewhat therapeutic to write out how she feels. She found it easier to spill it on paper, finding it complicated telling people how she felt. A diary allowed Ellie the ability to illustrate and write about how she felt, and keep it to herself. She always carried the small notebook with her, even on patrol. 

‘I asked her to the dance, she said yes, touched my arm!!!! Doesn’t mean anything Ellie! It does DONT! FUCK! UP! YOUR! FRIENDSHIP!’ 

Ellie messily scribbled a sketch of you, faint from memory alongside the words. She felt relief, dropping the pen after she finished her last scribbles and closed the diary. Even in her own room, she was paranoid someone would discover her journal so she never left it open. 

Ellie threw on a new pair of clothes, gave her half bun a quick fix, and loosely pulled on a red flannel. She noted she’d take an extra jacket for the party due to how cold it was earlier, shaking her head to herself at how right you’d been. She always pretended like she hated your teasing, it doing the opposite effect — making her more flustered about how you can combat her. 

Ellie felt more confident about the party, knowing you’d be together. She knew Dina and Jesse would be there, but often they’d get too lost in each other, and she’d become the third wheel. 

Ellie checked herself one more time in the mirror, her eyes scanning over the outfit. Her free piece of hair that often frames her face fell out, pinned back previously in a poor attempt, she blew at it, rolling her eyes and just let the damn strand of hair be. 

She checked the small clock by her bedside table, the numbers reading 5:30. Ellie bit her lip, noting she should leave now to your house. You weren’t far away, so she threw on her jacket and threaded through the frigid air of Jackson to your house.

Ellie was thankful you lived only a few houses away from Joel’s, she eyed the familiar path up to your doorway that she walked on, merely only a few hours ago. Unbeknownst to Ellie, you caught sight of her through your window and had the door opened before she could knock. 

Ellie sheepishly smiled at you upon taking in your appearance, her eyes raking over your outfit and how effortlessly gorgeous you looked. Her eyes were lingering on each article of clothing you wore, still taking in the aura you emitted, Ellie’s breath catching in her throat the more she looked at you.

She blinked, shaking her head quickly, “Hey! Are you ready for the party?”

With that she earned a giggle from you, the sound causing her cheeks to darken. “Yeah, let’s go,” you muttered, shrugging on your coat, closing your door behind you. Ellie waited for you on the bottom step, you bounced down the stairs and grasped one of her hands hanging by her side. 

The darkness of the night helped mask the bright pink her face was right now, hiding away her embarrassment from you. Even with gloves on both your hands to shield them away from the frosty air outside, Ellie felt sparks walking hand and hand with you to the party.

The two of you walked in silence to the center of town, the snow crunched beneath your feet, even when you weren’t talking, being together was pleasant. Ellie was the kind of person that, although she’s usually reserved with everyone in town, is the most caring for those she loves. That included you. She was particularly protective of you, even in the walls of Jackson. Another reason she was happy to accompany you to the dance; claiming you away for herself. 

You suddenly felt Ellie squeeze your hand, checking in on you, to which you nodded and squeezed back. A toothy smile blossoming on your face, one that made her want to pause that moment in time, capturing it on a camera forever. 

Unfortunately for her, she had to shake her head, Ellie smiling to herself as the two of you continued hand and hand to the party.

The party was loud, lights strung about the large room, helping further light the place and set an atmosphere for the party. Due to the time, the sun was already setting, the large windows dimming the room, lessening the natural light. A long food and drink table was placed in the corner with an assortment of different snacks and beverages. People were already dancing, chatting away, and drinking in their own groups. Thrown about were a few tables and chairs to eat and rest at.

Dina spotted the two of you entering hand and hand, Jesse stood next to Dina, wiggling his eyebrows at Ellie as the pair of you made your way over. Ellie rolled her eyes back into her skull seeing that you, however, were taking in the scenery and your surroundings. Ellie was thankful you didn’t witness Jesse’s stupidity. 

You greeted Dina and Jesse with a wave, your precious smile still etched on your face the whole way into the party. You let go of Ellie’s hand to remove your gloves, shoving them into your pocket, Ellie copied you and did the same. 

Dina smirked, a knowing grin on her face. She looked over at the two of you, still clad in your winter jackets. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head, “Let’s get these off and hang them up with the rest of them. With the heater in here you’ll overheat.”

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver for already knowing where it goes, lead the way,” you muttered and you all went to hang up your jackets on the various free hooks available before heading back outside to grab food and drinks. 

Ellie took in your appearance once more: with your coat off, the fuzzy blue sweater you wore, long black jeans and combat boots appropriate for the raw bitter air that lasted for months until spring. Anything you wore complimented you perfectly, bringing out and enhancing your features, which Ellie loved, and the faint fairy lights kissed your skin so effortlessly. To say you were beautiful was an understatement, Ellie didn’t understand how you existed in a world like theirs. You were too good for this horrible, cruel world.

She felt her heartbeat speeding up, especially with your hand back in hers, dragging her over to the plethora of drinks laid out to offer. You hummed softly, eyes scanning over the many options, and finally deciding upon some vodka and lemonade. Ellie picked her own drink, the two of you dropping hands, sweaty from the connection. 

Dina and Jesse fiddled around and picked their own drinks, Dina topping off her previous one. Jesse took a sip, wincing slightly at the tang of the alcohol on his tongue. “Shit, this is strong,” he coughed, eyes closing in disgust. He scrambled to add some juice to it or something to make the drink less strong.

Dina, Ellie, and you stifled back laughter at his facial expression. Dina patted his back, “Can’t overdo it, babe,” she nonchalantly shrugged.

Jesse rolled his eyes, you sipped away at your own drink, eyes glancing to Ellie who stood beside you. You turned to face her, while Dina and Jesse dwindled in their own conversation. You took one more sip of your drink before bringing it down from your lips.

You licked away the remnants of liquor on your lips, “Ellie, can we dance?” You knew Ellie hated dancing, but sometimes she’d give in to you for certain things. You’d hope this would be a time she would, you crossed your fingers just in case.

Ellie turned to you, brows furrowed in concentration as if she were debating the idea. The idea itched in her head. “I would usually say no… But for you, yes.”

If sparkles could appear in your eyes, there would be when you heard those words leave her lips. A wicked grin appeared on your face, making Ellie also dread her answer. 

“Thank you! I’m so happy,” you hummed, moving closer to her to lean up and kiss her cheek. You felt bold and had never done something like that before to her.

Ellie’s breath hitched in her throat for a moment at the contact, she hadn't expected you to do such a thing. Her cheeks were set ablaze by it, her sensitive skin tingling from your kiss.  She only wished the kiss was on her lips. 

She nodded, taking a sip of her drink to help wash down the burning sensation throughout her body. Ellie felt too hot, even in the middle of winter. You somehow had that effect on her. When she seemed done with her drink, you grabbed her wrist, eyes drifting to the dance floor. 

She could read what you were directing her to, Ellie nervously swallowed and nodded.  Allowing you to drag her to the dance floor. It was a slow dance, the music calm, so you wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck, her hands finding solace on your hips.

The two of you swayed to the music, your eyes locked onto Ellie’s green ones. She had no choice but to look at you, so she did. She never got to be this close to you, and knew full well she had to take advantage of it. Who knows the next chance she’d get to be close to you like this again.

“So…” you began, fingertips tickling Ellie’s hairline as they draped around her neck. “What do you think about the party?” 

Ellie's face scrunched, a small laugh bubbling from within her throat. “You know… I hate these things. It’s more fun because… you’re here.” 

Your eyes stuck to her face, trained on the various different sized freckles, the scar embedded across her right eyebrow, to others it made her look tough — but to you, it just added to her beauty. It was hard not to fall for her, and you didn’t hold back, returning her laughter. 

“Well, it’s more fun that you’re here, Ellie. I’m happy you asked me to come with you,” you muttered. Your eyes never ceasing from hers, confidence flowed through your veins due to the alcohol you’d consumed. 

Ellie was a jumpy person, a nervous girl you knew that. That’s why you wanted to see her twitch from teasing her. So you pressed on, hands rising to play with her hair. You swore over the music you heard her gasp, goosebumps prickling over Ellie’s skin. You moved her head to rest on her shoulder, making the distance between your bodies even tighter.

Ellie’s body felt like it was enveloped in fire, her mind spinning with thousands of possibilities. She decided this was just you still being friendly, wanting to dance with her since Ellie did invite you. Somehow, she always convinced herself of everything other than the truth — even if it’s staring at her in the face.

She didn’t push you away, she blinked a few times, arms tightening around you lightly, and continued swaying to the music. You breathed in her scent, it was a mix of pine and burnt wood almost. You enjoyed the comforting warmth Ellie brought, her whole presence always having your heart beating loudly in your chest. 

Her fingers brushed your sides, she swallowed. “Happy I finally had the guts to ask, I know it’s probably dumb… Because we’re friends.”

Suddenly, you pulled up from where you rested on Ellie. Her face contorted into a look of surprise, you tucked the stray hair framing her face behind her ear. “Oh, Ellie…” you began, leaning your face closer to hers. “It’s not dumb, but I think… It’s not clear enough to you that I like you.”

Ellie’s brows furrowed, she was at a loss for words. Did you mean what she thought you did? Her mind was spiraling, rethinking the words you just blurted out, picking them apart word by word. Before she could ask you anything, your lips were pressed against hers.

You kissed her slowly, your eyes already closed when you leaned into the kiss, Ellie’s eyes remained opened for a second. She blinked rapidly, slowly processing what was happening, her eyes fluttered shut — finally eagerly returning the kiss. 

You two got lost in the kiss almost forgetting you were in a room full of people, too lost in the moment and each other. Ellie’s hands eagerly pressed into your waist, moaning quietly in the kiss. At that, she pulled away, realizing the noise that slipped out and her eagerness. 

You smiled cheekily at her, finally happy you’d taken it upon yourself to make a move after wanting Ellie for so long, hinting at it with your lingering touches and glances. You’d had enough and sealed the deal with a kiss. 

Ellie herself had a small smile on her face, face flushed from the kiss. “I- Definitely wasn’t expecting that…” 

You leaned close again, lowly talking so only she could hear you. “That was the point, Ellie… Now follow me.”

Your hand grabbed hers, pulling her along to wherever you decided. The bathroom was the most private, quiet place you could think of, so you chose there. There was no care for anyone else in the world right now except Ellie, and you wanted her alone. The two of you excused yourselves past people and made a bee-line to the restroom.

Ellie stuck close behind you, her hand growing clammy in yours as the two of you approached the bathroom door. She hadn’t put the pieces together yet in her head, realizing that you wanted her alone. All to yourself. 

The poor girl was still flustered from the previous kiss, never once thinking your friendship would cross that line. It wasn’t something she minded, she was happy — but it all felt surreal. 

The door clicked open with ease, you pulled it aside, allowing the two of you to step into the small, private bathroom. Ellie followed in after you, hand still clinging to yours. Once she was inside, you dropped Ellie’s hand and went to lock the door. The lock clicking into place, echoing in the small space. 

Ellie nibbled on her lip, unsure of what to do or say now that you two were in the bathroom. She didn’t have to say or do anything because you did it for her.

You slyly walked over to her, the distance between your bodies only inches apart. Your eyes fell to her face, her nibbling away at her lip, and how flushed her face looked underneath the lighting of the bathroom. 

“Ellie…” You began, finally breaking the silence. “I wanted to come somewhere more private and this was the first place I thought of… so.” 

For some reason, being alone with Ellie made you more nervous than you thought. Even with your previous booming confidence, it was like it all flushed away once you were enclosed in the bathroom with her. Your feelings for the girl overwhelmed you, causing your heart to swell and throb within your chest as if it were an over inflated balloon about to burst. 

Ellie shifted her body, eyes glued to the floor. She nervously chuckled at that statement, still not meeting your eyes. She mumbled, unsure if you'd even hear it. “So… what was that?” 

The ‘that’ in Ellie’s statement, obviously, alluded to the kiss you had initiated, which left her bewildered and unsure of your true intentions. Her mind was reeling from uncertainty. Was your kiss driven by alcohol fueled impulses, or did it hold a deeper meaning, signaling that you harbored genuine feelings for her? 

Your soft touch against her cheek gently snatched Ellie’s thoughts away. Her focus was suddenly centered on your shimmering eyes, the lines of your forehead creasing in concern, and the way your hand felt caressing her cheek. She found herself momentarily bereft of words, caught off-guard by the intimate gesture.

Your whisper broke the silence, “It was a kiss, and if it wasn’t already obvious… I like you, Ellie.” Your proximity grew even closer, almost chest to chest, and your faces now mere inches apart, as your gazes remained locked together, the room filled with unspoken tension. 

Ellie’s lips parted, you watched as her eyes fell to your lips, then quickly back to your eyes. The air between you thickened, all you could hear in the air was yours and Ellie’s breathing. You grinned, closing the distance again. Ellie tenderly returns the kiss and places her calloused hands on your hips.

You pressed into her body, her back hit the wall, she groaned feeling the coldness of it. This allowed you to slide your tongue into her mouth, swirling your tongue around hers. It was messy and hungry, a tumble of emotion surging into the kiss, the both of you could feel it. 

Kissing Ellie like this felt intoxicating, you wanted more, you sucked her bottom lip, lightly nipping it. Ellie groaned into your mouth, your tongue swallowing the noise. The two of you separated, chests heaving for a breath of air. 

You removed your hand from her face, fingers ghosting around her neck, digits softly brushing against the skin. Ellie shivered, skin flushed from the frantic kisses, and just the situation she found herself in. 

You broke the silence first, beating Ellie to speaking. “Guess that means… that you like me too?” You teased, this made Ellie flush more and shake her head. 

“Of course, I like you. Shut it!” Ellie whined, closing her eyes and leaning her head back into the wall. 

You lifted a finger to her mouth, brushing against her plump lips, slightly blotchy from your nibbling. “You should shut it, Ellie,” you mumbled, not stopping there, leaning your head down to the collar of her neck, lips ghosting over the skin before you pampered a column of kisses down her neck. 

Ellie groaned, her hands faltering to your hair, the sensation of your kisses went straight to her core. You licked and sucked away at her neck, making sure to leave bruises in your wake. Ellie felt you softly whisper against her neck, the sound angelic to her ears. “Ellie… you should let me touch you.”

She opened her eyes abruptly, looking down at you, bewildered at the statement. She remembered where the two of you were, the bathroom. She swallowed hard, outweighing the situation in her head. This was definitely something she couldn’t pass up nor did she want too. You clearly didn’t have a care in the world, dragging her in there in the first place. 

So, she finally gave in. “Please touch me, just… we can’t be loud.”

“We? You mean… yourself, Ellie,” you pressed more kisses down her neck, fingers dancing to the button of her jeans. You undid it, then unzipped her jeans. You patted her thigh, “C’mon need these off.”

Ellie nodded, you backed away to give her space to shrug the material down her legs a little. “Not taking them fully off,” she huffed, not wanting to be pantless in a public restroom, nonetheless. You smiled, understanding and the item being half down her legs was more than enough. Ellie tugged down her boxers too, feeling embarrassed at you eyeing her most intimate part. 

Once gone you could see her wet pussy you almost started drooling, wanting to delve your face into it, but not yet, another time. Your tongue skimmed across your bottom lip, quickly closing the distance between the two once again in a searing kiss. 

Ellie felt light headed in the way you stared at her; predator to prey, before drowning in the pleasure of your lustful kisses. She didn’t want this to stop, her pussy growing slicker with arousal.

Your fingers made their way to her pussy, she whined into the kiss, feeling your colder digits touch her. Ellie abruptly pulled away, her usual bright green eyes darkened as she spoke to you. “Please… finger me, please…” Ellie mewled, raising her hips to rub against the two fingers you had exploring her folds. You rolled your eyes, fingers finding her needy hole and slowly, almost agonizingly inching your fingers in.

Ellie was soaked from the anticipation as your fingers filled her up. She brought your lips back to hers, pushing her tongue into your mouth and massaging yours along hers. This caught you off guard, your fingers inched out of her before you slammed them back into her. Ellie’s moans were swallowed by your mouth, you were grateful for that, knowing she’d be loud. Too loud.

Ellie swore she was on cloud nine, the music muffled against the walls of the bathroom, your sloppy kisses never failing to add to the feeling. She pulled away, looking down to see your fingers pumping in and out of her. 

The squelching and wet noises didn’t go unnoticed by either of you. A smirk made its way onto your face, enjoying how needy she was, even her body was trembling for attention. It made you hungrier, the need to make her feel so good that she’d beg for more consuming every fiber in your body.

Ellie shyly stuffed her face into the corner of your neck, wanting to lessen the sounds she made. Your pace didn’t falter, you instead took her hiding away as a challenge. A challenge to make it hard for her to hold back her sounds. 

She squinted her eyes shut, tiny sounds slipping past her lips. You wished you could see her doe eyed expression, face contorting into pleasure as you fucked her. You used your free hand to move her face, gripping her face with one hand, while the other was busy, delving inside her wet pussy. 

Ellie felt your hand clutching her face, tearing her away from your neck and to no one’s surprise at all, those little breathy moans were louder. Ellie gripped tighter, nails digging in the more aggressively you continued fucking her. Everything felt hazy to Ellie, desire building and building until she felt her vision fading out. Her back slouched against the wall, a burning sensation forming rapidly in her stomach, her hips jerked against your hand, needing that burning bubbling inside her to snap.

“Come on, Ellie. Are you going to cum for me? Huh?”

“Yes, oh.. My god. It feels good, please. Fuck c’mon don’t stop!” Ellie bit into her lip, hard enough to draw blood, her vision becoming blurry. “Shit… my god! I’m cumming… fuck.. Fuck!” The warmth in her stomach dispersed, with her legs shaking from the shattering orgasm. She clung to you, breathing hard.

You watched in awe as she came, “Holy shit, Ellie…” Her wetness leaked down the entirety of your fingers, still inside her, the rest of your hand was drenched in wetness. 

It was everything between Ellie clinging to you, then her orgasm hitting her hard and seeing someone, the person you’ve wanted and craved for so long look so angelic that you needed a taste. You pulled out your fingers, inserting the digits into your mouth, humming at the taste of her. Your tongue needed to savor the taste of her.

Ellie, still slouched against the wall, catching her breath, watched as you did this and her core clench, her mind dirtying with more thoughts of you. Your fingers exited your mouth with a pop, the bathroom succumbing to a silence.

Her pants and underwear were down by her ankles, she tugged them up and popped the button on her jeans. Her breathing and demeanor remained shaky, a smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, holy shit… Now we’re getting out of here.”

You quirked an eyebrow, about to question Ellie when she laced her hand gently through yours. “Are we really now?” 

She didn’t bother turning to look at you, already tugging the two of you towards the nearby door. Ellie unlocked the door, mumbling in a snarky tone, “Yeah, you don’t seem to be arguing though.” 

Ellie only had one goal now, that was getting to whoever’s house was closer and repaying you for making her feel so good. Even with the tons of people in the way, Ellie got out quickly past people, and had you not far behind her the whole time. You didn’t miss the wink and thumbs up Dina sent you, which in turn made you roll your eyes and smile. 

Clothes were thrown messily around your room, Ellie was on you within milliseconds of entering the space. Now she was on top of you, your leg hiked up with her pussy slotted against yours. You watched Ellie find her pace, her clit brushing yours just right, your hand soothed at her sides. 

Ellie watched your face contorting into pleasure, she sped up rocking her hips more roughly. “Fuck, want you to cum on my pussy,” she blurted out, too overcome with the thought of it. The very want and need of it growing heavier on her mind the more she fucked you. 

“Yeah? Want my cum, Els?”

She bit her lip, nodding her head frantically, still staring down at you. Her forehead was sweaty, dark locks clinging to her forehead, eyes squinted shut as she kept rolling her hips. Each time her clit caught yours, you let out breathy whiny noises; ones only Ellie could pull from you. It made Ellie’s clit throb, squelching from your shared wetness grew louder and louder the more frantically Ellie moved, chasing both your highs. It ignited the tension further, your hands on Ellie’s hips helping move her faster and faster. 

Your nails dug into her side, feeling yourself on the very edge, on the very tip of the iceberg; about to crumble. You whisper Ellie’s name, almost too quietly she doesn’t catch it. “Ellie… Please cum against me, breed me.” 

That made her go feral, your chest bouncing with each roll of her hips, Ellie whining at her swollen clit catching yours. “Yeah? I’m gonna promise… gonna breed you. Breed this pussy,” she groaned. “Oh my god,” Ellie’s movements grew slopper. “ I- Fuck! I’m cumming, I’m-” Her orgasm washed over her quickly, yours following shortly after, your legs spasming from the intensity. 

You moaned out Ellie’s name, her lips finding yours and swallowing the pleads and sounds coming from your plump lips. She lazily dragged her hips, riding out the feeling of your orgasms. Her body fell into yours, chests pressed against one another, bodies sheen with a layer of sweat. 

Ellie ended the kiss, pecking your lips one more time, moving herself more to lay down and rest her head against your breasts. You stroked a hand through her unkempt hair, smiling and welcoming the warmth of her body. “I’m.. happy we did this, Ellie.” 

She opened her eyes, holding a dazed look on her face. “Me too, this is unbelievable,” she left a soft kiss on your boob. Smiling as she pulled away, “And I really… do like you.”

Hearing her confirm it once again, with words, not actions made you want to scream with joy. “I know, El. I like you too now, lemme get up and clean us both up,” you giggled. Ellie pouted begrudgingly, moving off you.

You grabbed a towel, first cleaning Ellie off then yourself, before climbing back into bed. You moved Ellie’s back to rest against your chest, holding her tightly and pulling your bed’s covers up to envelope the two of you in warmth. Ellie let out a sigh, snuggling more into you, her skin tickling yours.

“Thank you,” you heard her mutter. 

“Don’t thank me,” you held her tighter, if possible. Never wanting to let her go, especially now that you both had each other.

Taglist♡: @livvietalks

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮

warnings: none other than cussing.

time: March 2005

The hum of the camcorder buzzed faintly in the background, capturing the chaotic, candid moments of the set. Tom Welling slouched in the director’s chair, his boyish grin flashing as he looked straight into the lens. His dark t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, sleeves snug around his biceps. The director called for a break, and the atmosphere shifted—lights dimmed, laughter filled the air.

“Alright, people!” Kristin Kreuk yelled, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “Five-minute break, but don’t go far. I need my Lana Lang aura charged or something.”

You leaned into the frame, your arm casually draping across Tom’s shoulder, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. He tilted his head toward you, his expression lazy and full of mischief. "Look who's stealing my spotlight," he teased, his voice low enough to make the hairs on your arms rise.

“Stealing?” you scoffed, your lips curling into a smirk. “I’m the reason anyone's watching this video.”

Tom’s laughter rumbled deep in his chest, and he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His large hands gripped the curve of your hips, his thumbs rubbing absent circles into your skin through your jeans. “Careful, babe,” he whispered just loud enough for the mic to pick up. “You’re gonna start rumors.”

“They’re not rumors if they’re true,” Kristin chimed in, walking by with a water bottle, rolling her eyes but grinning.

---

The camcorder caught every stolen moment: Tom’s fingers brushing hair out of your face, the way you leaned into him when you thought no one was watching, his palm sliding lower than appropriate during a staged kiss, his lips grazing yours when the director yelled cut. But this wasn’t for the network or the fans; this was raw and unfiltered—your own little slice of chaos.

“Clark wouldn’t grab her ass like that,” Michael Rosenbaum, bald and smirking, broke in as he leaned against the prop barn door. “But Tom sure as fuck would.”

You flipped him off without looking, feeling Tom’s body shake beneath you as he laughed. "Jealous?" Tom shot back.

“Hardly,” Michael quipped, “but if you’re filming this for posterity, I’d at least appreciate an angle where her face isn’t buried in your neck like a goddamn Hallmark card.”

"Noted," you deadpanned, leaning back just far enough for Tom’s lips to find yours. This time, it wasn’t a quick peck. It was lingering, full of slow, deliberate pressure. The kind of kiss that left your knees weak even while you were sitting.

“Okay, Jesus Christ.” Michael shielded his eyes dramatically. “I’m out. I’ll be in my trailer rethinking every life choice that brought me here.”

---

Later, when the camera was left on a coffee table unattended, you and Tom sprawled out on the couch in the greenroom. He held you tight, his hands dipping under your shirt just enough to stroke your bare skin, his lips finding your neck. You giggled, the sound muffled as he nipped at your earlobe.

“This isn’t gonna make it into the gag reel,” you whispered, biting your lip as he pressed kisses along your collarbone.

“Not unless you want it to,” Tom murmured, his voice warm and teasing, but his hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you closer until you were straddling him fully.

From somewhere in the background, Erica Durance’s voice echoed down the hallway. “You two better not be screwing on the prop furniture!”

“Not yet!” Tom called back with a grin, and his lips crushed against yours before you could react.

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

💬 reddit

← ⬤  r/relationship_advice • 16 hr. ago       

      1mjust-agirl02

I found out my (22F) sneaky link (25M) is a cult leader. Am I enabling him if we keep hooking up?

First-time poster here. I’ll try to keep this brief. A few months ago, I was going through a rough patch. I’d just moved to the city from a tiny countryside town—a major life change. Sure, it came with perks: a good job, a decent apartment, and better nightlife. But I felt… disconnected. No matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the gnawing loneliness. The more I tried to adapt, the more isolated I felt.

I’ve always been a model citizen—quiet, diligent, never stepping out of line. But in the city, my days dragged, my nights felt darker, and I was slipping into depression. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but everything around me seemed coated in this heavy, negative energy.

That’s when I started frequenting a local bar. It was small, dimly lit, and blissfully cheap. The kind of place where people drank alone to nurse their sorrows. I guess I fit right in.

The bartender knew my order. The regulars were predictable: the middle-aged lady with crimped hair, the clean-cut businessman with tired eyes. I even started to find comfort in the routine. Until he walked in.

It was a random Wednesday at 5 PM. He was tall, with long black hair tied back neatly except for two loose strands framing his sharp, bronze-toned face. Dressed in a plain black sweatsuit, he looked effortlessly suave, even with a grim expression. Our eyes met, for a moment, his stern demeanor softened, replaced by something that felt like intrigue. Without hesitation, he made his way over, settling beside me like it had been his plan all along. He ordered whiskey—straight—and downed it in one smooth gulp.

“You didn’t even flinch,” I blurted, unable to stop myself. “Impressive—or concerning.”

He smirked, devilish and confident. “You don’t even know.”

That was the start. We chatted. Or rather, we danced around anything personal, just sharing vague feelings and flirting between drinks. He had this magnetic sorrow about him, like we were kindred spirits.

The night carried on, the drinks kept coming, and somehow, he kept getting closer. Our knees bumped beneath the booth. He was attractive in that quiet, alluring way—charming. That distant look in his eyes, as though he’d seen too much too soon, only added to his appeal.

I think we both needed a distraction. I laughed at his teasing, swatting playfully at his chest. His dark eyes lingered, and when I fumbled with my glass, he reached over, swiping his thumb across my lips.

What came next was a blur: heated kisses stolen in a dingy bar bathroom, his coarse hands gripping my waist and sliding to the back of my neck. The kiss was messy, whiskey burning on his tongue as it slid against mine. We stumbled back to my apartment in a haze, barely making it inside.

The second the door swung shut, he had me off my feet. My lock hung unlatched as he threw me onto the bed, the impact knocking my head lightly against the headboard. His hands were everywhere—rough and deliberate. My blouse fell open, my slacks tangled around my ankles as he pushed me face-down on the mattress. I heard the shuffle of his sweats coming off, the warmth of his spit trailing down my skin.

He’s big. I struggled to take him, fluttering and gasping as he pressed inside. His hand yanked my head back, forcing me to look. Between the bunched fabric of his sweatshirt held in his teeth and the tense, toned muscles of his abdomen, the sight was utterly debauched. The sounds—slick, lewd—filled the room. By the end, my sheets were damp, my chest marked with his teeth and hands, and I had my first noise complaint from my neighbors.

I thought that would be it. A one-time thing.

But then, the next Wednesday, he was at the bar again.

Now sober, I finally got a good look at him—and somehow, he was even more devastatingly handsome. His sharp features softened by the loose claw clip holding back his hair.

Our dynamic stayed the same: casual conversation, teasing touches, and nights that left me trembling. He was addictive. Every time, his grip was firm, possessive—his habit of squeezing my throat just as my climax approached pushed me to the edge. It had me teetering between bliss and unconsciousness, choking out strangled moans as he drove into me, relentless. It felt like a punishment. It felt like everything I hadn’t realized I’d been missing.

If I were to indulge myself, I’d admit I liked him best when sobriety started creeping back into him. He had this way of reading my body like a map, tracing every nerve and exploiting it until I was trembling, breathless, undone. Sometimes, as he finished—his hair spilling over my face like a curtain—I’d let the lines blur. I’d tell him how good he was, how deeply I felt him, how pretty he looked. And for a fleeting moment, he’d soften, his rhythm slowing, kissing me with an almost tender deliberation.

Weeks later, I got a text and an address:

“Want to see you. Be here at 11. Side door, past the gate.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I showed up. His house was bigger than I’d expected—too luxurious for someone his age. On the way to his room, I passed a door slightly ajar. Inside, I glimpsed pink walls and a boy band poster. My stomach dropped. Was he married? Did he have kids?

I confronted him immediately. Sitting nervously on his bed, sandwiched between his toned thighs, I listened as he explained. He’d been raising his two orphaned cousins for years. His voice softened as he talked about them—their favorite shows, their quirks, their hobbies. I’d never seen him like this before. The care and pride he showed for them stood in stark contrast to the man I knew intimately.

That night was different. When I came, hard and breathless, his lips brushed mine, our eyes locked, fingers intertwined beside my head. For the first time, I thought I was starting to understand him.

But everything changed soon after.

At work, I passed a bulletin board I usually ignored. For some reason, that day I stopped. A flyer caught my eye—his face stared back at me.

In the photo, he was dressed in a golden kasaya draped over black yukata robes, his serene smile paired with an outstretched arm in a regal, inviting pose. The caption called him a “Buddhist priest” and a “divine leader” of some obscure spiritual group.

Confused, I Googled it. Turns out, it wasn’t just a spiritual group. It was a full-blown cult. The photos showed worshippers kneeling before him, their faces aglow with reverence, calling him a godlike figure.

I couldn’t resist. That evening, I went to the event listed on the flyer, held at a local temple. I slipped into a seat in the back, close to the door. Watching him lead the ritual felt surreal. There he was—calm, composed, draped in robes—like he hadn’t had me screaming into my pillow just days ago.

Then, I saw him lay his hands on a sobbing woman kneeling at his feet. Her cries turned into praises as she clung to him, trembling. It was… chilling.

I barely had a chance to settle in before I felt the need to leave. I thought about ending things right then and there—but I hesitated. Now I’m torn. On one hand, he’s the best I’ve ever had—dominant, attentive, and downright divine in bed. On the other hand… he’s a cult leader.

If I keep seeing him, am I complicit in whatever shady things his group does? Or am I overthinking it—can I keep pretending I know nothing?

Advice is welcome. Don’t hold back.

( ↑  734  ↓ ) ( 🗨️ 1K ) ( ୨୧ ) ( ↳ Share )

⬤ toge-talks-shit  MOD  • 14h ago • 

This is the wildest shit I've read all day. My prayers go out to you, OP—but your hookup might be answering them LOL. Fr though, the cult stuff sounds creepy. Not worth it. ↑  1.5K  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ blue-eyes-savelives  • 11h ago • 

OP, message me privately. Did he ever mention old regrets, breakups, or friends? Plz answer. T-T ↑  425  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ k-nam_mister73  • 9h ago • 

Delete his number. You should’ve ceased all contact a long time ago. ↑  344  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘

⬤ nobarabara_yaps  • 2h ago • 

He sounds hot. See it through. Gatekeep, Gaslight, Girlboss. ↑  109  ↓ 🗨️ Reply ∘∘∘