#and she continues to blow up to this day!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chosove · 12 hours ago

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Like a Friend | g.s

synopsis. Gojo fell in love with Utahime’s stepsister the second he saw her. Unfortunately for him, you were taken. You were also about 3 years older than him. It wasn’t fairing well for Gojo since you’d always see him as the awkward kid you grew up with.

warnings. Literally none LOL I think this is cute but let me know😼 I think some parts are suggestive but other than that I fink it’s good?!

an. Um this is my first time writing like a proper fic…bare with me🥲 let me know if u like it…if not don’t tell me dawg. if this is liked I will make more parts

wc. 2k-ish

Satoru still remembers the first time he saw you.

Or rather, the first time you saw him.

He was standing on your front lawn with Utahime in front of him, a hand of his reaching behind her head to slip her hair from the accessory she held it in. He’d just arrived home after his first day of junior high school, deciding to blow off some steam upon seeing his favorite upperclassman.

“Give it back, Gojo!” Utahime shrieked, one hand gripping the hair now hanging down her shoulders after being freed from the bow she’d tied it into.

Satoru smirked as he continued to bounce the accessory above the older girl's head, laughing at her attempts to reach the ribbon.

“Aw c’mon ‘hime, ya gonna cry?” He taunted, delighting in the cherry red color her cheeks were painted with, her face contorting into pure rage.

“This is not how you treat those who are older than you!” Utahime shouted at him, now lunging towards his neck with her arms stretched out as he held her back with a hand on her forehead.

Before he could come up with a quick retort, he heard a voice speak behind him.

“Hmmm? And what would you know about respect, Utahime?”

Gojo lost focus when he turned towards the source of the sweet sound, heat rising to his cheeks as he made eye contact with the girl he identified as Utahime’s new stepsister (like really new. like, ‘6 months ago’ new. not that he kept tabs on Utahime- he’d just remember if he saw a pretty girl). Using his state of awe to her advantage, Utahime kicked at Satoru’s knees, knocking him to the ground before landing on him with a grunt and pulling her ribbon from his hands.

“First of all, you’re only like a year older than me. Second, do NOT group me in with him.“ she grimaced as she spoke the last word, a disgusted nudge of her chin towards the man on the ground.

You scoffed at her remark, finally looking towards the eyes that were burning a hole into you. “whatever you say ‘hime.“

Gojo blushed fiercely as you continued to make eye contact with him while saying the same things he did. “Doesn't really seem like you two hate each other right now…I’d go as far as saying I see a spark.”

Realizing the position he was in, he quickly shoved Utahime off of his body, ignoring the grunt that left her as she fell onto her back.

“Ew!” Gojo shouted, turning to you once he’d gotten up. “S-she wishes she were my type, as if.”

Did he just stutter?

Sure, he was a loser that loved digimon and unexplained physics problems, but usually he was the one to make people stutter. Even if he used too much axe body spray and had the odd pimple or ten- he was undeniably beautiful.

You smirked at his shy demeanor, a drastic change from the boy who had just been tormenting your younger sister in a way you thought only yourself capable of.

You turned once again towards Utahime. “You coming for dinner or you just gonna play with your boyfriend all night?” your voice teased, giggling at the anger emanating from your younger sister.

Glancing away after seeing her nod, you made eye contact with the young man in front of you- his intense gaze scanning all your features as if to memorize them.

“You’re really good at getting on her nerves y’know. She talks about how much she hates you like, all the time.”

You leaned in towards his ear before continuing. “Don't worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

Before he could emphasize that they really were just friends (even if Utahime says the opposite), you were skipping off to the door of your house.

It was that day he fell for you.

It wasn’t until about…eight years later Satoru realized he was not gonna get over you. He also realized after all these years, that maybe he wasn’t that normal about his crushes. Not in the “I’m sooo crazy, I found her moms facebook!” way- no, it was much worse.

“Listen Satoru, y’know I’m gonna support your weird shit like you do mine” Suguru sighed, shaking his head in disapproval as they continued walking deeper into the Victoria’s Secret you worked at. “But isn’t this kinda…too much? How do you even know she’s working today? Or wait, how do you even know she works here?”

Satoru rolled his eyes as if his best friend had just asked the most obvious question. “I looked at her schedule? Duh?” he scoffed, pausing to look at a matching set he just knew you’d look perfect in. Did you own anything from here? Were you required to wear this kinda stuff since it was your job? Your whole wardrobe was probably filled with lacy sets that would just be so easy to rip-

“Dude,” Suguru spoke while waving his hand in front of Satoru’s face. “I’m gonna ignore the borderline stalker shit you just said, plus the fact you’re gonna cream your pants while touching some discount thongs, but why would she even talk to the creepy guys from her neighborhood?”

Suguru had endured every awkward stage Satoru went through- mostly because he was right next to him for it all. From their secret obsession with soap operas and cheesy rom-coms, all the way to those nights of stealing their parents alcohol which would end with Satoru crying as he wondered why you wouldn’t like him back- Suguru stayed.

Unfortunately for Satoru, the boyish charm of this crush wore off when Satoru started doing lowkey scary shit like finding out where and when you worked, for example.

Gently setting down the lingerie he had made a mental note to buy as a first date gift for you (he wasn’t getting ahead of himself, you were gonna be head over heels in no time), he shook his head at his best friend.

“Suguru, Suguru, Suguru” he sighed, placing his hands on his friends shoulders in exasperation. “Obviously you know nothing about love- first of all” Satoru began, puffing his chest out to signal he had no shame over his crush-turned-obsession. “Girls love surprises and grand gestures. This is like, two in one. Second, I didn’t STALK. I mean sure, I did beg Utahime to use the washroom since I ‘conveniently lost my key’ just to get into their house…but thats like, cute.”

Satoru was glad to finally put an end to Suguru’s disapproval when he saw his friend's mouth agape, proud of his actions which were 100% reasonable to him. It wasn’t until he felt a soft hand snake around his shoulders that he realized Suguru still thought he was psycho, it was just the person he was psycho about that made Suguru’s jaw drop.

“Moving this fast with our little ‘hime, hm?”

Snapping back, Satoru flushed deeply at your implication, also wondering how much you’d just heard.

“N-no way!” Gojo nearly shouted, hands desperately waving in front of him to indicate that the only person he’d ever consider in Utahime’s family was you.

You giggled at his wide eyes as you shoved his shoulder, the melody of your laughter becoming his new favourite sound. “I’m kidding ‘toru,”

Oh.

Oh God.

He really was gonna cream his pants- would it be weird if he called you a nickname too? He had so many he wanted to try out, plus he had the practice to back it up- he spent so many nights trying out the different pet names he could call you while he thought of caressing your body, the sound of your voice crying toru toru toru ringing in his ears as he-

“I’m assuming you’re here for a girl though, yeah?” you questioned, watching as the boy behind him shoved Gojo forward. He got so lost in his thoughts that he forgot the main topic of all his wet dreams was right in front of him.

Awaiting his nod of confirmation, you reached across him to grab a light blue pair of lingerie, body pressed against his while you dug through the bins of lace behind him.

He’d be more excited over the color and the fact it matched his eyes if it weren’t for the fact he could feel your tits pressed right against him.

Would it be wrong if he took a peak? Maybe he could pretend to fall and ‘accidentally’ land face first into your chest.

“This one’s my boyfriend's favorite.” you sighed dreamily, fingers running against the frilly edges while you reminisced on what he assumed to be very mediocre nights with your boyfriend.

Huh.

“Looks good on, but even better off” you spoke, outlining the pretty floral details detailing the set. You leaned in to speak in his ear, “plus, it’s super easy to remove, if you get what I mean.” finishing with a wink.

He gulped and nodded at your (far too extensive in his opinion) knowledge.

“S-sounds good, can you ring me up?” Satoru asked, grabbing the set from your hands and racing to the register.

You and Suguru both stared at his broad back nearly falling on his way to the checkout, a curious smirk forming on your lips before you strolled over to the counter. It felt weird seeing the little kids next door grow into…men. Of course Satoru was buying lingerie- he’d grown so handsomely into his lanky feature, now filling out the shirts that you swore were baggy on him just a few years ago.

You carefully scanned the set, folding it oh so prettily before placing it in the sleek black bag, finishing the purchase with a hot pink tissue paper to cushion the bag. Satoru watched your hands methodically do this process as his mind went a hundred miles a minute.

No, Satoru didn’t know what size it was.

Yes, he was devastated at the fact you had some sleazy, lowlife boyfriend (who wasn’t him).

Yes, he was painfully hard from your proximity and suggestive language.

As far as priorities go for him, his goal right now was to successfully make it out of here without you seeing the heartbreak on his face or the fact he got a boner after being near you for like 5 minutes.

It felt like years before you finally passed him the card machine, beginning to speak but quickly being cut off as a beep! rang out and the bag was ripped from your hands. “Did you need a recei-“

“NO THANKS GOTTA GO SEEYOULATERMAYBETHANKSBYETHANKS” Satoru shouted, crumpling the package in his hands and speeding out the doors to his car, Suguru on his tail.

It wasn’t until he was out of the mall that he finally took a breath, the realization that fuck, he actually didn’t have a chance with you? really hitting him.

Yeah, he was a creep who sometimes stared with his mouth open for a bit too long when you would ask him something. And okay sure you saw his awkward phase with braces, then the lisp he had from retainers, then braces again because he didn’t wear his retainers- but still, he was attractive enough right?

Preparing for a scolding from Suguru for almost leaving him behind, Satoru didn’t hide the heartbreak written across his face.

“Hey, I’m sorry man…There’s so many girls who’d die to get a chance with you, don’t worry” Suguru comforted, patting his friends back as he rested his head on the steering wheel.

mumbling something to the floor of the car, Satoru groaned loudly before finally picking his head up. “Not worried. just annoyed. Gonna be harder now.” Satoru whined, closing his eyes as he recalled the way you bit your lip and squeezed his arms. Was he imagining it or did you need him just as bad?

Hearing no clever retort from his friend, Satoru turned his head to find Suguru with pure confusion etched on his features.

“Fuck it. Never let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband, right?” Satoru spoke, key turning in the ignition as he was filled with a new dedication.

One way or another, Satoru was going to make you see how good you two would be together.

Preferably an easy way where you confessed your love to him first so he didn’t have to fold, but somehow nonetheless.

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foggieststars · 2 days ago

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feed me please.

for you my love... thank you for all of your wonderful art i hope u know how much i appreciate u!!!! pls have some girl charles getting fingered at the FIA gala for your efforts <3

Charles doesn't think anything of it at first, when Max's hand brushes against her knee. They're packed in like sardines around this table, and she thinks he's just adjusting his chair, or something.

At first.

They're awarding some of the junior categories right now, fresh-faced F1 hopefuls bumbling their way through grateful speeches. Charles remembers when that was her, looking out across a sea of faces, searching for the F1 drivers, hoping beyond everything that one day it would be her.

And now it is. She made it to F1, she's here to collect her runner-up trophy, and underneath the tablecloth she's got her biggest rival's hand inching steadily up her thigh.

Charles stiffens when Max's hand reaches the hem of her dress. She turns towards him under the guise of a joke, leans in as if she's trying to be heard over the voice of the announcer.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hisses into Max's ear, smiling when she pulls away. Max's hand tightens around her thigh in response, thumb brushing over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. The hair on Charles’ arms stands on end.

“What do you mean?” Max asks, and Charles dares a glance around them. The cameras are focused on the stage for now, thank god, but she knows they’ll be doing a sweep of the tables soon, trying to grab reactions from relevant people. There’s hardly anyone more relevant here than Max.

“Your girlfriend’s here,” Charles reminds him through clenched teeth, though she doesn’t know where the delightful Eloise has run off to.

Max shrugs, hand travelling higher, thumb continuing those gloriously broad sweeps of skin. “So’s your boyfriend.”

Charles hasn’t even seen Louis in half an hour. He’ll be in a corner somewhere, schmoozing with anybody who looks like they might be important.

Charles can feel her heartbeat loud in her ears, a warmth spreading through her body. Max’s hand doesn’t stop moving, pausing at the very apex of her thigh.

Anyone could see them like this. Anyone at all. The thought shouldn’t make Charles’ cunt throb.

“Besides,” Max says, voice low, so as not to catch the attention of Lando, only two seats away and looking terminally bored. “You like this, yes?”

Charles bites down on her bottom lip, wondering if any of her lipstick will transfer to her teeth. She doesn’t say anything, just blows out a shaky breath when Max’s fingertips move further, searching for something he’s not going to find.

His fingers still when they reach the damp heat between her thighs. “Are you–” he chokes, a gentle colour rising in his cheeks.

“You cannot wear underwear with this dress,” she mutters defensively, trying not to hitch her hips up into the barely-there sensation of his fingers.

Max snorts, shakes his head in disbelief. “Whatever you say.”

Charles is about to snap something at him, and then his thumb finds her clit. She shuts her mouth so sharply her teeth click together. She has to, otherwise she might scream.

It’s not that sex with her boyfriend is bad, per se - it’s just lacking. In what, Charles doesn’t know. Louis is good with his hands, with his tongue. There’s just no passion. Louis likes candlelit dinners, nights snuggled up on the sofa watching a terrible movie.

It’s the opposite of the way Max makes her feel. Basically all the two of them have is passion. Charles struggles to imagine Max wanting to go to her mother’s apartment for brunch on a Sunday, taking long walks by the sea.

As Max grins at her and rolls her clit with his thumb, Charles struggles to remember why that’s supposed to be a bad thing. It must be a bad thing, because otherwise there’d be no reason to keep it such a secret. But with his hand between her legs coaxing pleasure out of her, Charles can’t bring herself to feel even a little bit bad about it.

“Fuck,” she whispers, aware of the way her face is heating up. Her eyes dart up to the stage, where they’re no longer handing out awards. Instead, it’s the chaos of category change, trophies being carried on and straightened up. The cameras are on the hosts of the event.

Charles slumps down in her seat slightly, creating a gap between her lower back and the seat. It’s uncomfortable, but the access it gives Max to her cunt makes it worth it.

He takes the opening she’s given him, slides his index finger into her pussy with zero warning. Charles can’t help it; she lets a moan slip free at the sensation. It’s a toe-curling feeling. Fingering doesn’t usually do a whole lot for her on its own, but it’s the context. She’s surrounded by important people, men who could make or break her career with a snap of their fingers, and she’s letting Max finger her in front of them.

She reaches for the glass in front of her on the table, picks it up with a slightly shaking hand. The water is cool and refreshing, and nowhere near enough to douse the growing fire inside of her.

Max slips another finger in, and Charles jerks in her seat, water spilling down her wrist. Lando raises his eyebrows in her direction, but turns back to talking to his neighbour pretty quickly.

“Max,” Charles hisses. “You can’t - oh, fuck,” she moans, when his fingers curl inside of her. It’s too much, here, now.

“I can’t what?” he asks, voice slightly too loud for her liking. “I can do anything I want. You’ll let me do anything to you, won’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Charles grits out. She takes a deep, steadying breath through her nose.

Unfortunately, he’s kind of right. Charles does things with Max she’d never dream of letting another guy do to her. She demands a high price in return; she’s pretty sure Max has never let any of his wispy little girlfriends fuck him with a strap-on. There’s nothing she won’t let him do to her, nothing he won’t let her do to him.

Charles blames this horrible, animalistic thing that lives between their bodies. It’s like a livewire, electrifying and deadly to touch. Most men fall at her feet, but Max makes her crawl.

His thumb finds her clit again, scissoring his fingers simultaneously.

Charles bites down on the inside of her cheek so hard her mouth floods with the taste of metal. It’s better than screaming.

And then, a man’s approaching Max, clapping him on the shoulder. The shoulder attached to the hand that’s currently inside of her. Charles thanks the lord for long tablecloths.

“Max!” the man’s saying. “I’ve been looking for you all night.” The man looks vaguely familiar when he smiles in her direction. Charles grimaces back at him, fully aware of the hot flush on her face.

“Hello, Robert,” Max greets warmly, no indication that he’s currently fingering his rival under the table. “How are you doing?” He reaches for a handshake with his free hand, and Charles wants to die.

They lapse into boring chatter, nothing that Charles really pays attention to. It’s not like she even can. The scope of her world has narrowed down to the feeling of Max’s fingers moving inside of her, the continuous pulse of her cunt, the wetness between her thighs.

“And what about you, Charles?” the man asks, and now she wants to die even more.

“Sorry?” she asks, smiling weakly. Max’s fingers start to move faster inside of her, his thumb circling her clit in a steady, unrelenting motion. “I was a bit - mm, lost in thought.”

The man regards her warily. An FIA official, maybe? Charles can’t place him.

“I was asking how you are enjoying the evening so far.”

Oh, god, Charles can’t do this. There’s arousal building in her stomach, a tightening in anticipation. Clear evidence of it is running down her thighs.

“Oh, you know,” she says, voice shaking. “Free food, free wine, a trophy. What is not to like?”

The man laughs, and Max smirks, crooking his fingers deliberately. The motion is obscene, a stroking motion right against that spot inside of her that makes her feel all twisted-up and squirmy. And also like she needs to piss.

Christ, that’s all she needs - the first time in her life that she squirts, and she does it at the FIA gala. All over the world champion’s suit.

Maybe that would finally encourage him to buy a new one.

The man keeps talking to them, and Charles mostly gets away with smiles and nodding. He leaves, finally, with another clap on Max’s shoulder, a polite nod in her direction.

“Fuck,” Charles whispers. “Jesus, Max.”

Max’s thumb starts moving faster, tight, quick circles against her clit, drawing her to the edge. “Come on,” he grunts. Maybe his wrist is starting to hurt. Good.

Charles moves her hips in tiny, aborted motions. She needs to do something to get the energy out, the fizzing anticipation racing through her bloodstream. It makes the tablecloth move, but Charles doesn’t have room left in her brain to care.

Charles’ hands curl into fists, nails cutting into her palms. The pain of it is clarifying, just in time for her orgasm to hit her like a freight train.

Charles hitches forward in her seat, the feeling too much for her to cope with. She can’t hide her small moan of pleasure, the expression on her face. She ducks her face and fumbles for the buckle of her shoe, pretending to be fixing it, as the pleasure washes over her like a wave.

The movement dislodges Max’s hand, practically flattens it against the seat, but Charles doesn’t care. She keeps it locked between her thighs even as he tries to withdraw, grinds out the aftershocks against his palm. Her cunt’s so slick with desire that there’s no resistance, just the smooth glide against his hand.

“Charles,” Max says. “Can I have my hand back?” he sounds far too composed for her liking.

Charles shifts, allows him to withdraw his arm. She can’t speak just yet.

When he pulls his hand out from between her thighs, his fingers are glistening. Wet with her. He wipes them off on the tablecloth. It shouldn’t be hot, the thought of Max dirtying up these no doubt very expensive tablecloths with her desire, but it is.

“You are a fucking bastard,” Charles tells him, and Max tosses his head back, laughs like he knows.

Suddenly, there’s a harried looking production assistant at Charles’ shoulder, nudging her.

“Yes?” Charles frowns at the woman, who smiles at her nervously.

“You need to be backstage now.” She checks her watch. “Well, two minutes ago, actually.”

“Oh,” Charles gasps, all too aware of the frantic throbbing of her heartbeat, the matching pulse in her cunt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was our time so soon.”

“That’s why Robert was over here, you know?” Max smiles at them politely. “He gave us a five-minute warning. You cannot have forgotten this already!” He laughs, and the assistant laughs too, though hers is tinged with panic. It can’t be a great time, rounding up disgruntled celebrities.

Finally, it clicks where Charles knew the man who’d come to speak to them from. The fucking program co-ordinator, the guy who’d explained to them when they’d arrived how the trophies would be handed out and how much time they had to speak. Fuck.

Charles is going to fucking kill him.

She gapes wordlessly at Max, adrenaline rising in her body until she’s not sure whether she’s going to punch him in the face or start sprinting for the exit. He keeps smiling at her until she stands on shaking legs.

Charles wishes she had a witty rejoinder to leave him with, something to show that his victory isn’t as complete as he’s imagining it to be. There’s nothing, nothing in her head.

She turns and follows the woman on shaking legs, positively soaked between her thighs. She’ll be lucky if that doesn’t show up on camera, the bright lights reflecting off her skin when she crosses the stage to accept her third-place trophy. Maybe people will think it’s body glitter, or something.

Louis appears out of nowhere, slings an arm around her shoulder, gives her a tight squeeze.

“Good luck,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her cheek just before the aide leads her backstage. “You’ll be wonderful.”

Charles smiles wanly in his direction, guilt roiling in her stomach. She’d actually… forgotten he was even here tonight.

She’s led backstage, and before she hands her purse off to the woman, she fumbles in it for her phone.

“So sorry,” Charles tells her with an apologetic glance. The woman looks like she’d happily slit Charles’ throat right now, but Charles ignores her.

She pulls up Max’s contact, thumbs flying over the keypad.

Meet me in the bathroom once you have your trophy.

Max’s reply is instantaneous.

Why?

Charles doesn’t bother to reply, hands her phone to the assistant. Max will do whatever she tells him to, even if he’s got to make an awkward excuse to his girlfriend. Charles plans to repay the favour.

If she blows him after reapplying her lipstick, there’s no chance she doesn’t leave a ring of red around the base of his cock. A present for his girlfriend to find later.

That’ll teach him not to fuck with her.

#my fic #set in the same universe as the world was built for two... dont ask me when

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lovelylittlegrim · 2 days ago

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Paint it Black

Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

pre-relationship - 1.4K words - no warnings

———————————————————————

“I like when you paint your nails.”

Eddie startles at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice, even with how softly he spoke. It’s been quiet for a while between them, a movie playing in the background that they’ve both seen before, the voices just muffled ambiance.

He looks up to find Steve staring at him. “What?”

“Your nails.” Steve holds up his own hand, wiggling his fingers like maybe Eddie will understand better if he sees what Steve’s talking about. “I like when you paint them.”

Eddie looks down at where he’s been steadfastly applying black nail polish to his right hand, it’s harder than doing his left but he’s had a lot of practice and he’s damn near perfect at it these days. The layer is even, glossy, not a smudge to be seen.

“Uh, thanks,” he says slowly, unsure what else there is to say. He peeks back at Steve through his bangs.

Steve hums and drops his hand back to the couch, he continues to watch Eddie even though Eddie’s finished.

“Do you want me to paint yours?” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s asking. He’s never seen Steve with painted nails before and… he can’t imagine it when he thinks about it. Steve in his crisp blue jeans and his clean polos, black on his nails. It would look so out of place. Like some dirty part of Eddie rubbed off on him. Tainted him.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“You can paint them, it’s not like anyone else will see.” Steve slides off the couch, joining Eddie on the floor at the coffee table. He drops his hands on the stained wood and splays his fingers. “I’ll take it off before my shift Thursday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Steve gives a single shoulder shrug, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “It’s not the first time my nails have been painted.”

That makes Eddie pause. “It’s not?”

“Robin paints my toes whenever she sleeps over. They’re probably still purple actually, I haven’t bothered to take it off, not like anyone sees my feet.”

“Oh,” Eddie huffs at the mental image of Steve with his face coated in a face mask and lotion, his bangs pulled up in a little rubber band and Robin painting his toenails every color of the rainbow.

Actually, it’s kind of cute. He wants to see Steve like that.

“So,” Steve drums his fingers on the table. “You gonna paint them?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pulls lightly on one of Steve's hands, drawing it closer to himself. “Don’t move.”

Steve doesn’t. He sits quiet and still, watching Eddie work without complaint. When Eddie’s done he leans back to inspect all of the nails, wiping at an edge here and there to clean it up, uncaring that he’s staining his own thumbs. When he’s satisfied he leans back in and lightly blows at the paint.

Somewhere above him, Steve’s throat clicks, and Eddie glances up at him through his lashes curiously.

“You’re much better at it than Robin,” Steve says after a beat. “She gets it all over my skin, doesn’t even try to clean it up.”

Eddie laughs, air puffing right out of his lungs. “I’ve met Robin so I’m really not surprised.”

He picks up one of Steve’s hands, turns it left and right to make sure he sees the paint from every angle, and makes sure there are no rough patches or opaque spots he needs to go over. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about it looking good, Steve’s just going to take it off in less than twenty four hours.

He drags his thrums lightly over one of Steve’s knuckles and then lets go, his fingers curling in on themself. “All done.”

Steve holds his hands up, fingers spread to see Eddie’s work. “It looks great.”

And it does.

Eddie grins as he twists the polish closed tightly and stuffs it back into his bag. He watches with something close to fond amusement as Steve very carefully settles back against the couch, hands on his knees so he doesn’t touch anything until the paint is well and truly dry. Eddie settles next to him, his own hands already dry enough to not cause a problem but he mirrors Steve and they watch the rest of the movie, making snide little comments about the acting and the plot.

He doesn’t let himself think about the feeling of Steve’s warm hand in his or the feeling of Steve’s eyes watching him so intently.

It’s not good for his health.

—

It’s two days later before he finally sees Steve again, the movies in Eddie hand already grievously late. Robin will chew him out but he knows Steve will waive the late fees with a stern waggle of his finger like a disapproving parent and tell him to do better next time. He’s so dorky, Eddie doesn’t know how the guy was ever cool in highschool except… Well, he does, because even now Steve is annoyingly good looking, better looking in Eddie’s opinion. More rugged even though he’s still so put together, confident in different ways and funny.

The bell jangles loudly when Eddie enters family video.

Robin looks up, eyes narrowing instantly. “You're late, Munson.”

Eddie winces. “Please accept my most humble apology, I was otherwise inconvenienced on the eve of these returns.”

“You mean you forgot until Wayne told you this morning.”

“Yeah.”

She snorts and holds her hands out for the videos. When Eddie gives them to her she says, “I better not have to rewind them.”

Eddie thanks Wayne over and over in his head for having the forethought to do that before forcing Eddie into Robin's clutches. “They are.”

“They better be.”

Eddie takes his time browsing the stacks of tapes. He knows what’s here, he spends most of his time bothering Steve and Robin but Steve’s on break in the back and he wants the chance of seeing him before he leaves.

It’s another ten minutes of staring at Night of the Comet before the door to the back opens and Steve strolls out. He spots Eddie instantly and Eddie grabs the movie he’d been stalking with and heads for the counter.

“Hey,” Steve grins. “You finally returned your movies.”

He holds his hand out for the new tapes and Eddie goes still. His eyes wide as he takes in Steve’s hand.

“Your nails,” Eddie says, ignoring all semblance of a greeting. “They’re still painted.”

Steve glances down at his hands, laughs a little quiet and awkward. “Yeah, does it look weird on me?”

“No.” Eddie thought that it would. That Steve, perfectly put together Steve Harrrington, would look tarnished and sullied by Eddie with the black paint. That he would look tainted by all that Eddie is but… “I like it.”

“Oh,” Steve grins, drags Eddie movie choices closer to ring them up. “Me too, it’s kinda like having you around even when you’re not here.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Yeah.”

It’s just a little splash of black paint, but it makes Eddie want impossible things just to see it still there. He wants more of himself on Steve. His clothes, his rings, himself. He wants to cover Steve in the things that he loves, show everyone that this pretty and perfect boy is something that Eddie Munson treasures.

“Will you paint them again?” Steve asks without looking at him.

“I’ll paint them anytime you want,” Eddie says honestly. He hands over a few crumpled bills to pay as he remembers how easy the moment between them had been. How quiet and perfect. He would probably do anything for Steve Harrington and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that.

Steve’s smile is soft.

“Thanks,” he says and then holds the tapes out to Eddie. He glances over his shoulder at Robin who is doing her best to pretend she’s not watching them. Steve huffs and turns back to Eddie, lowers his voice and leans a little across the counter. “How about tonight?”

Eddie glances back down at Steve’s still perfect nails then up to Steve’s face, his dark eyes watching Eddie just as intently as they had two days ago. His nails don’t need to be touched up yet. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Great,” Steve says, hand brushing Eddie’s as he hands over a receipt. “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be there,” Eddie stumbles over the words.

When Eddie leaves his head is a mess of want and confusion and hope. So much hope.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfics #paint it black #nail polish #kinda wanna do a second part but idk #LLG writes

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ficauthor · 2 days ago

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Valerie is so interesting text wise in the Danny Phantom cannon.

She was rich but now she's poor. All basically overnight. She wasn't even particularly snobby compared to the other a-listers. but we watch in an instant how the life changes affects her. Her rapid decline in financial and social status was bc of a ghost dog. but overnight we also see her friends of many years reject her bc she cant go to a concert.

she takes it on the chin but seriously oof. that pain of her friends all ditching her must have been brutal its a huge display of her kindness that she continued to care about them even with that betrayal.

she's extremely socially adept, and very good at leveraging it. enough to trick Tucker into telling her details on ghost hunting.

She works at her local exploding McDonalds as a mascot. At any moment that place could blow because of its C4 sauce but she stays anyways because she's a hardworker, and is trying to help pay the bills.

Now she hates all ghosts because all of her life being ruined is because of one specific awful day. Vlad who's (and i can't stress this enough despite everyone knowing it) a ghost uses that very real trauma to gaslight her into trying to kill her boyfriend. she doesn't know its him but still. she tried to kill him and she's still likable/ nuanced/ complex enough that i can't even be mad.

she'd so caught up in protecting Danny that she doesn't know that she is trying to hurt him.

She also does it bc she believes it protects her dad. Her dad is a security officer he can protect himself but Valerie loves so fiercely it doesn't matter. she loves to her own detriment i'd argue.

in that alternate future we see her working with her dad to protect all of the town from Dark Dan. She never stopped trying to help people. Her number one priority is to always do what she thinks will keep people safe.

She'd very misguided about ghosts but considering the information available at the time it makes sense why she believes that ghosts are all bad.

.She's kind and smart and resourceful but always terrified. it's really easy to see that the way she goes about protecting including her motivations to do so, is all fueled by the fear that anyone's life could be ruined like hers was.

She's so caught up by it all that she breaks up with Danny because she thinks it is best for his wellbeing. she doesn't want his life ruined like hers was. she doesn't know that his was already turned upside and she's trying to make sure harm doesn't befall him.

Her entire life was twisted on its head bc of ghosts just like Danny's was. But circumstance lead her to try and kill them all. She's always in a state of survival juggling side jobs school and vigilantism.

She dated Danny for like a week tops and he became so instantly smitten to such a strong degree he ignored the murder attempts. He was so in love with her he wanted to give her a dorky old fashioned promise ring. he liked her that much! and it was all while she tried to kill him as Phantom! imagine how loveable you have to be for a person to disregard the murder attempts and somehow ignoring it is the correct thing to do.

The show makes it very clear that Valerie is one of Danny's biggest threats. More than Skulker, or Vlad or any of the normal ghost rotation. Not just bc he didn't want to hurt her either. she is genuinely so skilled motivated and quick on her feet that it gets Danny in trouble when they fight. seriously the way she learned the tech from Vlad in no time is majorly impressive. the way she adapted to technus' tech demonstrated a huge display of power and strength (in the Dark Dan timeline she's most likely the biggest factor in protecting the city from him. there are other people working to fight him but she's so powerful that it takes his worst weapon to take her down)

The way she foils him is so interesting. Danny is also often prone to try and shoulder the burden alone but he still always has people in his corner. that's why he turned in Dark Dan in that alternate timeline. the removal of his support made him lose his humanity.

But Valerie doesn't have that support system like him. yet it never consumes her like it does him. she is so interesting! it's just such a shame that the show never got a chance to expand that further.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #she'd honestly one of the most interesting secondary/tertiary characters in the series #id kill for more valerie centric episodes #and also valerie centric fics that really understand her nuance #valerie is so interesting her constant flux in knowledge means she's so dynamic.#its drives me up a wall that some fics dont understand how kind and loyal she is as a person #rambles and babbles #my hope is that if we get more comics we see more of her.#she's so morally complex that you can't look away #you never want her to hurt danny or the other ghosts #but she's so compelling and her reasoning is so strongly reasoned that you almost want her to win anyways

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pa-pa-patato · 2 days ago

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is it possible if you can write another bendystraw oneshot? I really love them and your ideas about them

“At least I don’t kiss you when I’m drunk!”

Everyone was having a good time at the living, some were playing games, while others talked among themselves and Cup and Bendy began to bicker like they usually do which is why no one was paying much attention to them, Until now.

Everyone turned to look at Bendy whose smile fell as he noticed the mood in the room shift and Cuphead who was red in the face with the most bewildered look they’d ever seen.

“….what?” Boris finally spoke up destroying the silence the room had, “ok I know cheap shot given I don’t drink anymore-“ Whatever Bendy tried to say was cut off by Fanny laughing “That’s not what he meant! You kissed him?” She turned to Cuphead a sly smirk on her face as she questioned him. He couldn’t answer opening and closing his mouth in shock luckily or unluckily Bendy spoke again “Why are you so smug? Do you know how many times I had to pull you and Red off of each other while drunk?” The ladies in question immediately looked at each other in complete shock and embarrassment.

But Bendy wasn’t done just yet.

“And you!” He pointed at Holly who was already blushing a bit, “Do you have any idea how many times I had to hide your compact so you wouldn’t call Alice in the middle of the night to tell how ‘she’s so pretty and she should ditch all those pesty boys trying to court her and kiss you instead’?” Now she was full-on blushing, her face completely red.

“And you.” Bendy turned to Oddswell, his voice gentle now “I wanna know what happened that night at the bar with Winston” Oddswell looked embarrassed for a brief moment before nodding slowly choosing to ignore everyone’s gaze.

Cup still wasn’t saying a word, his eyes completely focused on Bendy and Bendy alone.

The rest of the day was spent with everyone ignoring the topic as best as possible. Expect for Bendy, Who still had no idea why everyone had that kind of reaction in the first place.

Bendy left saying he needed fresh air and Cup followed saying he was going out to smoke.

“You know I got out for ‘fresh’ air right?” Bendy waved the smoke out his face giving Cup an annoyed look, Cuphead responded to that by blowing smoke directly at him making him cough, “Seriously man?” He whined earning a chuckle from Cup.

“Sooooo” Cup started awkwardly “I kiss you when I’m drunk?” He avoided Bendy’s eyes as he asked, Which in turn made Bendy roll his eyes “Yeah but we pretty much established that it’s a normal thing to want to kiss your best friend” he turned to look up.“Besides you were drunk so not like it means anything”

“So if I were to kiss you right now it’ll mean something?”

The question took him off guard and made him snap his head back to look at Cup who was peacefully continuing to smoke, The air around him suddenly felt suffocating.

It seemed as tho the smoke had completely inhaled him making him unable to see anything but Cup, the smell made him want to cough again but he stayed silent for as long as he could ignoring the seemingly innocent glances Cuphead gave him.

“No.”

He finally said his voice sounded too dead even to himself, Cup only gave a long hum in response as he turned towards him blowing smoke into his face as he spoke.

“So it will mean nothing to you?” “Nothing at all.” And with that, his lips met Bendy’s

Is it still lying if they’re both aware of the truth?

#inky mystery #babqftim #the inky mystery #babitim #inky fiction #bendystraw #this took me so looooooong #I couldn’t get myself to draw cause I didn’t finish this but my brain was not braining enough to let me finish #I’m undiagnosed #not sure for what but I’m undiagnosed for something

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jjtheresidentbaby · 3 days ago

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regressuary day 2: hurt no comfort

» for @regressuary & link to bingo card here

» rg!vi & cg!caitlyn (cait’s only mentioned)

» summary: vi is in a bad state after another late night out

» tags: vi centric, pit fighter vi, drinking, bad habits, crying, set season 2, not canon compliant, tw for death/suicide mention

A bottle topples over and pours dark liquid onto the hardwood as Vi stumbles further into her apartment, another bottle hits her foot before it rolls and clanks into the side of her metal bed frame. The sounds send shocks of pain through her skull as she flops onto her unmade bed.

There’s a pounding in her head and an ache behind her eyes that makes the all familiar thought appear in her head: I’ll never drink again- she tells herself like she did last night and the night before that one. It’s been months of fighting for money, blowing it all on booze, getting black out drunk, crawling her way home, promising herself she’d quit, and re-doing it all over again the next day. She’s a mess. It’s getting numbing at this point.

In the distant part of Vi’s mind she can hear Cait’s voice telling her to clean up before bed like she did those nights Vi crashed at the Kiramman residence and Caitlyn stepped into the caregiver role when Vi slipped without meaning to. She hates herself for thinking about those nights, for longing for them, but how could anyone blame her?

Everything was okay back then. She had Cait, they were working to save Powder, trying to take down Silco, Vi was able to regress for the first time in ages, and despite all the chaos going on, she felt alright. Things seemed to be looking up until- no. She won’t think about it.

Regretfully, Vi shakes her head and turns over to curl her knees up towards her chest. She wishes Cait was here. Tears start to slip from her eyes as she feels herself drop into her regressed state, only longing for her past caregiver more and more.

There’s nothing comforting about where she is now. Her body is bruised, her mind muddled with bad memories, her environment is cold and bare, and even the sound of the city outside that usually helps calm Vi does nothing but make her cry harder. She’s beat her fists red and screamed herself til her throat was scratchy and done everything she can think to do and yet— she can’t forget.

Every touch her and Cait shared, every story Cait read aloud to her, every cutesy nickname she pulled out, every night they spent cuddled together in Caitlyn’s enormous bed, everything. It plays in a horrible loop in Vi’s head. She wishes she could switch her brain off, even just for a night.

“Mm.” Her body betrays her and a small whimper makes its way out of her throat as she tugs the thin blanket on her bed around herself. It’ll get better tomorrow, she lies to herself, knowing nothing will feel okay until she has Cait in her life again.

This downward spiral will only continue until she drinks herself to death or one of her opponents knocks her out for good. Her little mind only wails harder at the prospect of her dying alone but sleep is starting to take over, seemingly the only grace the universe is allowing her.

#jj writes #regressuary bingo #regressuary 2025 #arcane agere #little!vi arcane #vi arcane

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cillianmurphysdimples · 9 hours ago

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A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Twenty Eight)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and all total bollocks..

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Twenty Eight: Cillian's return to the hotel room threatens to ignite a second round of battles, and Y/N does her best to keep her cool. When the options she suggests rock Cillian's bad temper, it has a shifting effect on both of their moods. Y/N makes the decision to put a little distance between them, ato allow Cillian to focus on his final period of filming without added pressures. He doesn't want to let her leave at all, but definitely not without being completely sure that she knows how he feels, and that she's secure in what lies ahead for them. [Angsty/Anxiety themes. Sexual scenes]

@cherry-cilly @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @strangeions @watermeezer @meadowshelby @lavender-haze-01 @borntodiemp3

Use of the word “fag” for cigarette: Cillian himself uses this word a lot, and generationally it's a common word for cigarette in the UK and Ireland. It's definitely less used these days, but older generations (I'd say early 90s and back) do still use it, myself and family members included. It is absolutely not meant in the derogatory form that the same word can be used. Please, please, don't take offence.

---------

You're showered, dressed, and blow drying your hair at the large mirror fixed to the wall when Cillian returns to the room, just over an hour after he had disappeared. Where he's been all this time in his pyjamas, exactly, you don't know. You look at him with as neutral an expression as you can hold as he shuts the door behind him and stands at the door, with his hands in his jacket pockets, staring at you with a firm frown and gnawing on his bottom lip. You flick the switch on the hairdryer and toss it down to the floor beside your suitcase. You feel hot - stuffy in general and made worse by drying your hair on the highest heat setting - and your nausea has been building for a while, too, and you fear actually vomiting up the cup of tea you forced down could be a real possibility. “I'm going to go home.” You say, and you try hard not to have any edges to your tone. “I have work to do, and some of it is better done in the law office. You're busy, and focused on work. And, frankly, it's no good for either of us, me being in the middle of your job.”

He flares his nostrils and sniffs, then nods his head slowly. His brows rise up his forehead just as slowly, and he tilts his head to the right a little. “Okay,” he says. His voice is a little husky, and you wonder just his many cigarettes he'd smoked whilst he was being a mardy arse wherever he'd sulked off to. You're a little hurt that there's no further words on your decision - no stay, no agreement with a little sadness, nothing. As you continue looking at one another, he eventually shrugs his shoulders and sort of frowns, and pulls an infantile face that makes him look like a grumpy teenage boy. It's almost like he's saying ‘’so what?’ and you want to slap him! He drops his shoulders and draws his hands from his jacket pockets so that he can undo the zip and pull it off. He throws it forwards and it lands on the unmade bed. “Booked the flight?” He asks.

You scoff at his coldness, and take a deep breath. “Not yet - but there's an Aer Lingus one at two.” you say softly. Your throat feels tight and you can feel the threat of tears in your eyes - you blink quickly, willing them away. “My passport is in your travel wallet so, um, I'll need that to book…”

“It's in my case.” He says, and there is zero emotion as he speaks. He's still standing by the door, and his arms are folded across his chest. He turns to the side and braces his left hand against the wall in front of him as he kicks off his trainers. They thump against the baseboard as he fires them towards the wall, and his face is still firm when he turns again. He walks towards the bed and picks up his phone from the bedside locker. You'd realised he hadn't taken it with him about a quarter of an hour after he had left, when you called him to talk and it had vibrates noisily beside his pillow. tHe silently occupies himself with it for a moment, standing with his back to you, then places it down again before he turns around to you. “You can't run away when the baby arrives, you know?” He swallows hard, and his Adam's apple visibly bobs in his throat.

“Like you just did?” You ask, and immediately realise that you've broken your promise to yourself not to take a tone with him. “You've been gone for over an hour, Cill. You didn't even take your phone and I didn't know where you were. Don't stand there with the pout and the fucking eyes, and tell me I'm running away.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip then noisily breathes in and out through his nose, and you anticipate his reply anxiously. “I just went out for a fag.” He says, and you can hear a subtle softening of his sharper tone - but it hasn't vanished.

“It takes an hour to smoke a cigarette?” You shake your head. “Bollocks, Cillian. Complete bollocks!” You purse your lips angrily, then calm yourself with two deep breaths. “Cill, I don't want to leave in a fight.” You sigh. You bring both hands up to your face and push your hair back from either side of your face. “I don't want to fight full stop.” You shake your head slowly as you lower your arms again, and you place your hands on your hips. “I know you're freaking out about this. I am, too. But I don't want to fight…” you clamp your lips together as your chin begins to quiver. You bring your right hand up and push against your eyes as you lose the determination to hold off your tears. You sniff as you bring your hand down, and the tears continue to roll from your eyes and down your flushed cheeks. “I know we have to talk all of this through, and you'll want to talk to Malachy and Aran - and Yvonne. And I know that's stressful to think about. You've still got work, and obligations here, and back home when you're done, and I know that you don't need the added stress. But we're gonna have a baby, because I will not terminate. And I want to have this baby, our baby, Cill, even though it's scary and it's going to cause…God knows what kind of shit storm.” You sniff and bring your hand up again, wiping your eyes and nose in the arm of your long sleeve t-shirt. “If you don't want a baby, then we need a serious talk about where you and I go from here.”

“Stop,” he shakes his head immediately. “Y/N.” He purses his lips and noisily blows out a long, hard breath. “Fuck,” he shakes his head again. “I don't want you to have an abortion, you know that. I am fucking petrified here, and I know you are too, but that would never make me want you to do that. Are ya listening to me? I don't want that. I want you, and if we're going to have baby, then we're gonna have a fucking baby. And it is stressful, and I don't know what's gonna happen going forward now, but I am not even fucking considering going anywhere else in my life without you. D'ya hear me?” He drops his attitude a little more, and he walks towards you. He stops a foot in front of you and you can smell the cold air from outside and cigarette smoke off him. “And it's gonna be you, and me, and that wee one in there. And yeah, sure it might well be a fucking nightmare for a while, and telling the lads and Yvonne is probably going to rock the fucking boat, but I still don't want you to have a fucking abortion. Okay? I am stressed out, and I'm an arsey prick, I know - and I'm sorry - and I know I upset you with what I said before, but I didn't mean to. And sure, you lost the head, and I lost the head right back at ya. I am sorry. But please, don't be talking like that, like you want to end it with us, because I can't cope with that, with the idea that you even think that, or think that I want that.”

“I don't, I just… I don't want you to be trapped by something you're not sure you want.” You shrug as the words come out quietly.

“Y/N I have never felt trapped with you, with us, right - never.” He insists quickly, and his face is animated. He reaches out his right hand and cups it against your cheek, and thumbs away the tear that falls. “I love, and we're gonna love this baby. It isn't gonna be easy, and while I'm shit scared about that, I'm prepared for it too. And I know I've to grow up a wee bit here and accept all the shit that's gonna change.* You sniff and smile a little as he laughs at himself..”Ah, Y/N,” he sighs, bringing his hand down from your face. “C'mere, will ya,” he opens out his arms and steps closer again, and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you in, one hand in the back of your head as you nestle your face in the crook of his neck, and the other around your back. “We're gonna have a baby,” he says as he gently rocks your two bodies together, a slow side to side, and then hums softly. “Jesus, Y/N - you're going to be a Mammy and you're gonna be brilliant. And whatever the fuck happens, I am going to be right fucking there. I promise.”

You nod your head against his neck, “Thank you,* you whisper against his skin. “I'm sorry - I know I'm difficult, I don't mean to be.” You draw your head back slightly. He doesn't restrict your movements, but he keeps his hand on the back of your head. You lock your eyes to his, searching for the honesty you can always find there. “I'm not naive or deluded about this, I know there are going to be things that are difficult or upsetting. And I'm really scared. But I want to be happy, Cill. I'm having your baby. I want to be happy with you over that.”

“I want to be happy with you too - and when the shock wears off, I'll be praising my bollocks, I promise,” he smirks, and you're actually thankful for the comical tension breaker. He smiles a little brighter, and you can see the glint of tears in his tired eyes. “We're having a fucking baby,..” he whispers. He moves his head forwards and presses his lips gently against yours. It is a featherlight kiss and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you close your eyes. He kisses you again, applying a little more pressure, and turns his head slightly as he parts his lips just a little.

Passion grows quickly, and your raise both of your hands to cup around his cheeks as he starts to introduce an insistent tongue. His hand around the back of your head tightens a tad, gripping into your hair, and he hungrily assaults your lips with kisses that emit tiny sounds each time they break and recatch. His left hand on your back is moving steadily downward, and it doesn't take long to to cup around the cheek of your arse over your leggings. His fingers knead gently, and he draws your pelvis closer, kisses unrelenting. The feeling of his steadily stiffening penis against your groin is clear through the flannel material of his pyjamas, and the boxer shorts you know that he has on beneath. The feeling of your body against his obviously sends pleasure-filled pulses through his body, as he pulls you harder against him again with that still kneading hand on your arse, subtly humping you through all of the material. Make up sex, you consider, would be the perfect breakfast - and perhaps will send him to set in a couple of hours in a more relieved and relaxed mood. He removes his hand from your hair, but still he seeks out his desperately needy kisses. His mouth seems loathe to leave yours, but you're not at all put out. The softness of his pillowy lips and his shyly wandering tongue are a definite turn on, made even better by the hum-like sighs and eager huffs through his nose as he refuses to stop the snogging to breathe deeply. His free hand moves down your back and, for a moment, assists his left hand in cupping your arse and pulling your pelvis to his. He's harder now, and it's as much of a tease for you to feel it as it is a stimulation against his aching erection for him. He moves his right hand again, though, and begins lifting the hem of your long t-shirt. You move your hands from his cheeks to allow him to drag the top off your body, and smile against his lips as he immediately seeks out his kisses once again.

You mirror his actions and pull at his pyjama top, freeing him from it quickly, and drop it to the floor. You place both of your hands against his chest, cupping over his defined pecks, and feel a small swell of arousal as his small nipples harden against your palms. His hands are gone from your backside as his fingers fumble at the clasp of your favourite orange and white bra. You're surprised when he willingly removes his mouth from yours so that he can peer over your shoulder to watch his fingers as he finally unhooks your bra. You chuckle as he paws at your shoulders for the straps, and tears the satin-like bra away from your body, immediately grasping your breasts in his hands. He cups the weightier teardrop shape of your boobs in his palms, and kneads gently, his thumbs moving back and forth across your nipples until your mouth falls open and those little nubs are teased to attention. He smirks as he captures your open mouth, kissing fiercely, and moves his hands around your back. Your love the feeling as your breasts are forced between your two bodies, nipples kept alive as they graze over the skin and light smattering of hair over his chest. He brings his kisses along your jawline as his hands sit at the waistbands of your leggings and knickers. He peppers light kisses up towards your ear before he slowly bringing them down your neck. You know immediately that he knows what he is doing as you raise your shoulder when his light kisses move along your neck, into the crook and down along your shoulder before slowly working back again. Each airy kiss against your neck makes your skin pucker with goosebumps and makes you squirm and giggle a little, as you grow ticklish under his lips and tongue. He huffs a breathy laugh against your moistened body, and doesn't relent in teasing your stimulated skin. His light kisses move back towards your shoulder again, and once again he draws back towards the crook of your neck, and laughs more intentionally, finally lifting his face away, as you squirm more, pushing your body against his, as he sends ticklish delight coursing through you.

He stands looking at you with a cheeky, half-lidded expression. He's arousal drunk, and his hands on your hips and soft, slow, horny-teenager thrusts against your pubic area - though you're both still clothed from the waist down - aren't needed to tell you that. “Take me to bed.” You say in a whisper, moving your face close to his. His mouth opens and his chin moves forwards, hungry for more of the kisses he so desperately loves, and you hover your lips just millimeters away from his. “Take me to bed,” you repeat. “I want to feel you on top of me…and inside of me…”

You don't know if it's your teasing over the kisses, the tone of your voice, the words you'd shamelessly uttered, or the fact that he was tipping himself closer by all but dry humping you, but something lights a fire under him. He moves his hands from your hips and takes your hand, dragging you with wide strides over to his claimed side of the bed. As you stop at the edge, he stands immediately in front of you and hastily pushes his fingers into the waistband of your leggings and knickers together, pushing them down past your buttocks. He doesn't bend to take them further, but he captures your mouth with his and slides his right hand down your abdomen and courses straight down over your neat thatch of neat pubic hair and curves his fingers over, cupping his four fingers around your entire shape. While you gasp at the contact, he sighs hard into your mouth as his hand is filled by your vulva. His thumb moves in small circles over your already tumescent clitoris. You reach up your arms and snake one hand up into his hair whilst you grip against his shoulder with the other. He twists his wrist slightly so he can angle his hand better, and he slowly slips his middle finger into your vagina. The sensual assault is total - his thumb still on your clit in slow circular motions, his hand cupping around your vulva, and his middle finger moving in and curling delicately upwards to stroke against the one spongey spot he knows will weaken your knees. Your fingers grip tighter in his hair and this time it is you who has a fever in the kiss. He's clearly enjoying pleasing you as his mouth drops open, ruining your ability to kiss him as deeply as you want, and he speeds up his hand a little. You gasp as his hand moves, and you can feel the ability in your legs to hold you up beginning to dwindle. Then, just like that, he stills his hand. He withdraws his finger and simply keeps his hand cupped over your shape once again. You tug at his hair and push your lips to his again, claiming the kiss he'd broken a moment before. Then he takes his hand away completely and, with his other hand, pushes lightly against your shoulder to encourage you to sit down onto the bed. Once you're seated, he crouches down onto the balls of his feet, knees spread out wide, and drags your leggings and knickers down off your legs entirely, tossing them to the floor.

He rises back up and, as he stands before you, you reach out both of your hands and pull the cord on his pyjama bottoms to loosen the waist. You push them quickly down his thighs and they drop down to his feet. You run your hand down from his bellybutton, trailing your finger along the line of dark hair that begins to widen its thin streak as it disappears into his underwear. The light grey Calvin Klein boxershorts that are always tight to his skin are puckered into a firm tent, and his cock strains inside them. There's a telltale darkened patch off at a diagonal angle to the left side where he's leaking desperately, and his penis has twitched itself into any space it can find as it swelled and grew. You peer up at him with raised eyebrows, and trace your index finger along the shape of the underside of his penis. He hisses a breath in through his teeth and you watch his cock attempt to jerk against the tight fabric. This won't do, you think to yourself, poor thing needs its freedom. Still, you tease him once again and run your entire hand up along his length, stopping at the darkened patch; with keen eyes, you watch it darken further as he leaks again. You take pity at last and push your fingers in along the waistband by each hip and slowly push his underwear down. That happy trail of hair gives way to a patch of dark hair, and as his underwear is finally pushed away, his firm, thick penis twitches and stands hard and lightly curved. His foreskin is still in place but it is screaming against the new thickness, and the darkened and glistening head of his penis is visible at the tip. You push his underwear all the way down his legs, joining the pyjama bottoms, and then you take his proud erection in your left hand and begin to stroke slowly. You give his head the exposure it's been craving, dragging his foreskin down with your second stroke, and the groan Cillian huffs out is astounding. You slide your thumb over the stickiness at the head and allow it to aid you in gliding your hand up and down his cock. You move your hand quickly, though you're going to be careful not to just end this in a handjob or giving head - you want him inside you, you want his body on top of you. You need that intense intimacy after the morning you've had. This is reunifying, and you need it. Bringing your hand to the base of his penis, you arch your back to lean forwards and you take him into your mouth with your tongue cupped around the underside of his firm shaft. He immediately groans again, and he involuntarily thrusts into your mouth. You move your hand, and place your hands on his hips as you bob your head back and forth, licking and slurping, paying attention to the underside of his head with the tip of your tongue each time you pull back. He's mumbling and thrusting in a completely uncontrolled attempt to fuck your face. Giving one last sink down onto his entire length, you draw back completely and allow the cool air to hit his wet cock.

You place your hands back onto the mattress and sort of crab walk backward until you're in the centre of the bed. He doesn't take his time in kicking the clothes off his feet and climbing up onto the bed. With no fear of consequences now, you know he's looking forward to fucking you freely and you're desperate to feel that ridiculously arousing sensation of his semen pumping into you. You lay back as he moves on his knees. You're unabashed in your openness as you spread your knees when he comes closer. He crawls between the legs, his hands either side of your body as he hovers above you. He leans down and pushes his lips to yours, and for a split second you wonder if he can taste himself on your mouth. He sighs as he pushes his nose against yours, and draws a circle with the tip of his nose around the soft tip of yours. You smile as you bring your arms up around his back and shoulders, and you prepare yourself for the feeling of fullness you've been wanting since he kissed you first. He reached his right hand down between your bodies and guides himself up and into the vagina. You close your eyes and breathe out a shuddering sigh as he pushes in immediately deeply - he's slow and careful, but he goes all the way. You wrap your legs up over his lower back, your feet crossed at the ankles and resting at the cleft.of his arse. He quickly starts increasing his movement speed, but he isn't slamming into you. His mouth is open and his eyes are fixed on your face, but you can see he's blown out completely in his mind at the feeling of his cock against your soft walls after so long with a barrier. He thrusts deeply and you can feel his balls against your vulva each time he pushes in. His hips aren't snapping wantonly, and instead he moves his entire body to allow him to keep his steadier pace and prolonged depth inside of you. The way his body moves on top of you draws a quickly achieved clitoral orgasm and you moan and bite your lip as you feel yourself tightening against his gliding cock.

He captures your sighing mouth with his and kisses the last of your moans into his own mouth. And he's sighing those ‘’getting so close' higher pitched moans into your face. He continues to move, controlled and deep. Each move he makes slides the head of his penis against that wonderfully magical area inside of you. You're not sure if he'll last long enough for you to cum again this way, but it feels so good that you don't even care. His sighs are breather and louder, and you slide one hand up higher, up along his neck and onto the back of his head. He pushes harder into you with each deep thrust and you know it's now. In a rare, more vocal display, he groans loudly as he pushes into you again, and you hold him tightly as his cock twitches inside of you whilst he holds that deep position. He groans long and loud into your face, eyes close tightly and mouth slack, and he empties into you. It's all very intense for him, you can tell, as his body begins to tremble viciously. By the way it feels inside of you, he's emptying just as intensely. His penis jerks wildly up against your sensitive walls, and you find yourself soothing him through the overwhelm. He rests his sweaty forehead against yours and he's gasping for air.

“Holy shit…” he sighs and sort of laughs. He groans as his body shivers randomly, and you can't remember a time when he's cum so hard before. “Shit, Y/N.” His chest heaves against yours before he slowly pulls himself backwards then drops into a pile of languid limbs beside you.

You chuckle a little, “I've never heard you like that before.” You say, not daring to move though you're desperate to be on your side and lie face to face with him, just to drink in his sated face.

“I think I'm empty.,” He breathed raggedly, then laughs. You turn your head as he giggles, smiling at the sound. His tongue sits against his lower teeth as his melodic and cheeky laugh lingers for a moment. “My legs are fucking jelly.” He laughs again, and he blinks sleepily. “I'm not fit to fucking fart, never mind shower and get out on set.”

You smile at his very sleepy face, and know the risk of him nodding off after that display is very real. “Cill, love, you can't sleep.* You reach out and tap your hand against his hip. “Get up! And get me a towel or something…” It's quiet for a moment before he laughs, and reluctantly pushes himself up from the comfort of the inviting duvet. He groans as he stands up, beside the bed, and he swallows hard around his sticky dry mouth. You watch him run his tongue around in an attempt to moisten it. “,How's the stress now?” You ask, only half serious.

He reaches to the floor and stands back up with his pyjama top in his hands, and hands it to you with raised eyebrows. “I couldn't care less if a bomb went off.,” He grins, and he throws the top at you. “Use that.”

“Cill, that's disgusting.” You grimace.

“It'd be worse if you get it all over the sheets and then we've to sleep in them.” He points at you, and his sense of humour is back to the man you know and love. “Because you're staying, aren't you?”

Still lying, spread-eagle on the bed, you smile at him. You nod your head, “Nowhere else I want to be.”

#cillian murphy #my fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfiction #reader fic #y/n fic #female reader #female y/n #female reader x Cillian Murphy #female y/n x Cillian Murphy #reader x Cillian Murphy #y/n x Cillian Murphy #relationships #celebrity fsnfic #reader x celebrity #pregnancy #angst

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slicedcat · 1 year ago

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#smug jug meme #smug jug chan #memes #smug jug #tumblr memes #yall really REALLY like her #she was a joke chill 😭#and she continues to blow up to this day!!!#thanks to all to liked her though!

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the-physicality · 5 months ago

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c*thy and chr*stie are the same in that they will both get labeled "successful" for what happened under their "leadership" but at the end of the day all the good things that happened happened in spite of them.

#nothing cathy has done in the past 24 hours is surprising #you're telling me a deloitte ceo wanted to focus on prioritizing revenue over being a decent human being?#over attempting to tamper down the racists who are selling out gain bridge?#why would she do that #i also saw a tweet that said oh she only said something after stewie said something [in a post game interview not even presser]#while that is technically true it's not why #her pr team was probably in motion when that video was blowing up on twitter #and then especially after the union put out the statement #i do think they should get a new commissioner and i've heard some good names #but i think it would take a lot to get her fired especially with the growth of the league as it is happening now #but that she doesn't know or doesn't care about the majority of the players in this league [this is about race and sexuality #but it's also about player health and safety #don't forget about what the schedule was before the break and quite frankly what it continues to be #you could have had people playing every three or four days #instead you cram 4 games into a week and then give a week off #or the planes]#that should be considered as damming as economic failure #because the players are the product #and their physical and mental health is important to maintaining the quality of play #if you had to make an argument that's not about being a decent human being

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tmnt-obsessed-ace · 2 years ago

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Too mentally drained to write tonight

#parents have been fighting all day (and I mean ALL day)#and bt fighting I mean my mom took something my dad said in the absolute worst way possible #even though he didnt mean what she thought at ALL #and has been bitching about it ALL DAY #started at like nine am it is now six pm #and when I tried to be helpful and clean up the yard to take some stress off her and make her happy #she yelled at me saying “she didnt need any help.” and continued bitching about it #my dad already apologzied but she REFUSES TO FUCKING LET IT GO #IT WASNT THAT BIG OF A DEAL BUT YOU BLEW IT UP #AND YOU CONTINUE TO BLOW IT UP INSTEAD OF JUST LETTING IT GO #HE APOLOGIZED IT WAS JUST A SIMPLE MISUNDERSTANDING SO PLEASE LET IT GO #God im so drained #so completely drained #i was trying to help her and she yelled at me for it #it isnt fair #anyways no chapter this weekend

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tonycries · 8 months ago

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Green-eyed Monster

Synopsis. He knows it’s not your fault they’re all over you - but that doesn’t stop him from fúcking you like it is.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, jealous séx, spítting, exhíbitionism, bréeding, chokíng, degradatíon, cúmplay, Nanami’s a bit mean, squírting, overstím, oral (female receiving), semi-public, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.4k

A/N. It’s my birthday month yippeeeee

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “Talk to her?”

It takes you a second to even register those words - let alone the phone being pressed against the side of your face - Toji’s cock too big, the stretch too sinful, so utterly relentless as he fucks your sloppy pussy into the mattress.

“Hellooooo? Anyone there?”

And it takes you even longer to hear that familiar tinny voice. Too familiar.

“T-Toji- what ngh-” you let out an obscene gasp - one you were sure that Toji drew out of you on purpose. Dragging his thumb all over your throbbing clit, lips curling in a way that already told you who was on the other end of the line.

“C’mon, doll. The mans been blowing up your phone all day.” his words are hot against your lips. Giving your swollen lips a loud peck, once. Twice. “S’rude to keep someone waiting on call.”

He only huffs out a laugh at how cute you looked underneath him, all breathless and fucked dumb. Jaw slack, teary eyes rolling to the back of your head, words slurring and barely coherent.

“Hngh- what-” you squirm, words so heavy as Toji continues his movements. “Oh my god-”

Your boyfriend had you exactly where he wanted you - and since he couldn’t take a hint, Toji was about to let that annoying little ex of yours know too. Knowing that whatever comes out of your pretty lil’ mouth would definitely stop that loser thinking he still had a chance.

“Is she there? Baby, are you there?”

Oh, well, Toji didn’t like that. Not one bit, as he pushes your legs further apart to ram into you even deeper. Unstopping. Unforgiving - like he was taking his irritation out on your poor, ravaged cunt.

“Yeah, speak up ‘baby’.” he pants into your open mouth, hot tongue licking up the stray tears rolling down your cheeks. “Use those words now.”

And because he was such a shameless bastard, Toji’s rolling your swollen clit between two large fingers. Lips twitching up into a smirk as he drinks in all those cute little whines that startle out of you.

“Hn-hngh-” you cry, bowing your body deeper into Toji’s. Clawing at his arms - his shoulders - his back to desperately contain your obscene moans. What a shame, they were so pretty too - he wouldn’t mind the entire neighborhood overhearing. “Fuck, Toji…”

“Awww, what? Can’t even speak?” Pulling himself closer to catch your lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss he hopes would ring through the speakers on the other end of the line. “My poor baby’s gettin’ nervous?”

God, that asshat better take a hint now.

And shit if he thought he was going insane because of that bastard interrupting his precious time with you, then he was definitely not ready for the way you get wetter - tighter - as he does. Putting on a sinful little show that had Toji’s hips stuttering, knuckles white on your phone as he fights not to drop it.

“Oh-” Toji’s head drops into the crook of your neck, fingers bruising on your hips while he fucks you back harder into him. ”Ya like this? Like being so dirty in front of someone else?” Difficult with the way you were squeezing so tightly around his swollen cock. “Actin’ so innocent but you’re such a slut, huh?”

You give him such a delirious little nod of your head, batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently and- shit, did you even know what you were doing? How fucking sexy you were being right now? Shit, he was fucked. He was so fucked.

“Is this you playing hard to get?”

Ah, right. Forgot about that bastard.

Droning out into the phone, “Seems m’girl is busy right now.” And as if to prove his point - maybe to that scrub on the other end of the phone, maybe to himself - he’s slamming into your heavenly cunt faster and faster. Making sure to angle the speaker just right to catch all those lewd little squelches as your sweet sweet juices soak Toji’s achingly hard cock. Voice as ragged as his hips as he grunts, “Very busy.”

“I can hear her - let me speak to her!”

Well, what your ex was hearing were probably those fucked-out whines spilling from your lips. Just as out of control as your hips bucking up for more more more- “Ah! Toji, wan’ more- hngh- fuck fuck fuck.”

It made all the blood in Toji’s body - especially his brain - rush straight down to cock to watch you go from pretending you weren’t affected to being such a good little whore for him. And, hell, that was only for him to hear.

“Wait- that noise-”

So Toji’s snaking up his hand from its relentless abuse on your sensitive clit to shove two fingers into your mouth. Huffing out a dark little chuckle at the way you gag and choke so prettily around him, moaning like you couldn’t help yourself.

Though, that doesn’t mean he’s going to be any nicer to your cunt though. Toned pelvis slamming against yours - so hard he’s sure it would leave some nice little bruises to brag about - maybe even send that asshole ex a few pictures if he still keeps calling.

“What the fuck- is she…?”

“Told ya, she’s busy.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “You deserve it.”

“Do I really have to do this to teach you a lesson each time?”

You gulp, eyes flitting between his yellow tie wrapped around your wrists pinned above, and the man in-between your legs. Eyes glassy, strands of blond sticking uncharacteristically to his forehead, such a cruel little smirk playing on his lips as he positions himself in-between your legs.

Smack!

A breathless gasp leaves you as Nanami’s hand comes down on your ass. Hard.

And he only huffs out a low chuckle at the way you keen, hips bucking wildly in- defiance? Need? You didn’t know, the only thing you were sure of was that you wanted him to do something - anything - right now.

Because one look at that classmate who you were just a little too close with earlier today, and Nanami’s been so mean ever since then. All but ripping off your clothes as he tied you to the headrest, fucking you over and over until he could see you all bloated with his cum. And even then - Nanami wasn’t done.

“Y’should answer me when I ask something, my love.” he licks a long, languid stripe up your swollen folds. Pressing softly on your tummy to watch his seed gush down your legs, so fucking filthy as he pools it on his tongue, tipping his head back, back, back to let it slide down his throat. “Or is it that you just listen to what he says now?”

God, he was being so sinfully irrational right now. Teasing. Taunting.

“No, tha’s not it-” you sob, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks at how you wanted to cum again so badly despite how sensitive your poor pussy was. “J-jus want-”

“Want what?”

Oh how Nanami loved you like this - that pathetic little whimper leaving your mouth as he teases you with his mouth. Hot tongue going all the way up from your base, just underneath your swollen clit. Not even bothering to fuck into your sloppy hole yet.

“To make me-” the words die in your throat as he grazes your clit. Ever-so-slightly. You just wished you could free yourself and give in so badly. “Cum! Wan’ you to make me cum.”

Your back arches off the bed, legs wrapping around Nanami’s head to pull him closer to where you needed him the most. Thighs quivering, his cum dribbling out of your sloppy pussy and into a lewd little pool below.

And it seems to work - perhaps temporarily. Because he’s echoing against your glistening lips, “To cum?” smirking against your cunt as he dips his tongue past that first ring of resistance. “You should ask-” Before pulling away completely. “-that friend of yours.”

“Noooo!” you’re letting out a strangled gasp, and if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have been embarrassed about how pathetic you were being right now. Tugging uselessly on the tie. “Please, Ken.”

God, how he would love to bully you some more - to have you crying and shaking on just the tip of his tongue until all you could remember was how he couldn’t have you like this. Ruin you like this.

But, no, Nanami can’t deny that your adorable mewls of his name have him feeling lightheaded.

“You little minx.” he manages out, pulling away mere millimeters. Purposely letting a tense beat pass, one. Two. Before spitting on your fluttering cunt, adding to the absolute mess of cum and slick below. Missing on purpose - of course - to let it splatter all over your thighs. “Usin’ the dirtiest tricks, huh?”

“I didn’t oh-” Nanami doesn’t let you plead your case - he doesn’t want you to. Instead, shoving his face nose-deep in your overfilled pussy. Lapping at all your - and his - sweet sweet juices.

“Asking me to do this.” he hisses into your cunt, trying for the life of him to sound like he isn’t in heaven right now. Murmuring around your throbbing clit, “Shoulda asked that friend. Didn’t need me when he was around.”

You hiccup, face burning at how mean he was being. “He’s just a c-classmate.”

Smack!

Maybe to shut you up, maybe to stop you from talking about that loser with those pretty lips of yours, Geto’s giving you a quick, sharp smack to your ass. Smoothing his palm over the sting like a little warning.

“Oh yeah?” he questions, muffled around your dripping cunt. So deep that his nose was rubbing tiny, sinful little circles on your poor clit. “Didn’t seem that way with how he was flirting with my wife. N’ now you wanna cum on my tongue? How needy.”

“M’sorry!” you’re grinding your cunt deeper onto his face, a rapid, sloppy little rhythm to match his own. Geto’s tie now digging into your wrists with how hard you’re pulling. “Shoulda known- m’sorry- hngh, fuck fuck fuck.”

Rewarded with a gentle smack! and his tongue - hot and deftly massaging all the right spots. So expert in the way he’s teasing and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Dragging your pussy so sloppily all over his face, tonguefucking you with such reckless abandon. No rhythm or technique - just to show off. To show you.

Close - too close.

Close enough that you could almost-

Let out a broken whine as Nanami pulls away, delicate strings of cum and spit snapping as he does. So pretty and filthy all over his kiss-bitten lips, ones that curve into a mocking smile at your state.

“Who said you could cum, gorgeous?” A hand reaching down to fist his swollen fist, pumping up and down. Slowly. “I was jus’ cleaning that pretty pussy up for the real fun.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - See the mess

It was too much - everything was too much. From the way Geto had you shoved into your empty office room, strong arms spreading your legs so shamefully on the desk, to the way he’s stuffing his achingly hard cock in-between them.

Hips so well, and dangerously intent. Like he had something to prove, and didn’t mind whether he would break you in the process.

And he did - to prove himself to those incessant coworkers of yours that hit on you in front of him. As if they had a chance? To prove that he’s the only one to that can make you cum over and over and-

Dragging you on his cock, veins throbbing in a maddening thump! thump! thump! Against your walls. Edging you closer to - which number orgasm was this, again? You weren’t in the right state of mind to calculate.

“Oh, this? Might the seventh.” he murmurs, fingers stuttering on your throbbing clit and- oh shit, had you said that out loud? “Mhm, you did.” Geto grins up at how pretty you were like this - tear-streaked face, lips wobbling, such cute moans leaving them each time he gave a long, languid strokes. “But s’alright, I love it.”

“B-but-” you whine, words slurring together in a way that has all the blood in Geto’s body rushing painfully to this dick. “Someone might-”

“Come?” he circles around your sloppy entrance with a fingertip, stretched so fucking obscenely around his cock. Shifting to flick at your sensitive nub. “Guess you jus’ better hurry up then, my love.”

Your head spins, both from the way Geto was dragging your pussy so sloppily all over his cock - bouncing you like such a slut - and from how mean he was being. Nothing at all like the caring, gentle boyfriend he usually was. Throwing your legs over his shoulders to fuck you even deeper.

“Fuck shit shit shit-” you buck your hips wildly as he bullies his heavy cock faster into your plushy walls. One hand on your hips, keeping you still while he massages every crevice and spot he knew would have you seeing stars. The other, drawing frenzied little circles on your ravaged clit. “S-Sugu, someone’s gonna hear- gonna walk in.”

“Good.”

Mouth dropping into a soft oh! you snap your head up to meet his darkened gaze. Man bun so messy already, brows furrowed, lips swollen and curling ever-so-slightly into a cruel, fucked-out little smile.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, hips getting sloppier. Faster. “Almost like you want someone to come.”

Unconvincingly, “N-noo, hah- I don’t”

“Y’sure about that?” Your sweet sweet juices glossing his lips so prettily from where he tongue-fucked you to insanity right here not to long ago, and if you angled your head just right you could see the way it trickled down his jawline. An even bigger mess at his hips, cock soaked and glistening in the dim lighting. “Don’ want any of those friends to see you all filthy like this?”

Because Geto wasn’t afraid of getting messy - or showing it off. He loved it in fact.

Loved your slick just smearing dangerously close to the strands of hair framing his face. Loved ruining you because he was the only one that got to - and anyone else can come in and watch if they wanna flirt with you so badly.

“Fuck them.” you flinch at how uncharacteristically mean he was being. “Fuck them all. Only I can make you feel like this-” Hitting that one spot again and again. “-right?”

“Sugu- f-fuck s’too deep.” you arch off the desk, fingers carding through his locks to pull him even closer. Eyes watering as you feel that familiar knot in your stomach. “I’m hah- shit.”

“Who’s cock are ya gonna cum all over?” Geto questions, muffled around your dripping cunt. So deep that his nose was rubbing tiny, sinful little circles on your poor clit. “Who’s making you- hngh- f-feel this good?”

It’s all you can do to let out such whiny, cockdrunk replies. Ones that only make Geto rock his hips harder, sloppier with each word falling from your lips. “You- Sugu- Shit s’too much.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum f’me again? All on my cock?” breathing ragged now.

“I- I don’t- hngh. Know if I can!” You were barely lucid at this point, barely even registering the way you’re so sloppily jerking your hips all over. Using him in exactly the ways Geto wanted.

“You will.” Pace only picking up, so rough that a little part of Geto almost feels bad - almost. Your entire body is twitching with each flick of his finger on your clit. Cock hitting all the right spots. Making such a mess of slick and precum below you that you can only pray your office isn’t used for a meeting today. “You can- hngh- do it. F’me.”

“For you?”

“Yeah.” he’s pulling you close enough that you can feel his breath hot against your lips. “You can do it, right? Can cum for me? Squirt all over my cock?” Licking at the seam of your mouth - forcing you to taste him and yourself and him- “F’me. Only me.”

It’s sudden - almost violent, and you don’t even realize when you’re cumming at first. Just that, with a strained scream of Geto’s name, nails raking down his sculpted shoulders, leaving pretty red marks for him to remember.

Juices squirting all over his abs, staining his t-shirt. Glistening against his milky skin, snug cunt squeezing his rock-hard cock while he fucks you over and over and-

“So messy f’me, my love. So fuckin’ messy.” His eyes darting to the now slightly-ajar door - as expected. “Hope no one else sees the mess too, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The needy

He knows it’s not your fault that they hover around you - those pathetic losers that think they have a chance - but that still won’t stop him from fucking you like it is.

“Baby- ngh. Why the f-fuck did you have to look so hah- good, today?” he’s gasping against your lips, hips out of control, voice a pitch or so higher than it usually would be. “Had so many lookin’ at my girl like ngh- you’re theirs.”

And God - it was so hard to look at Choso too, flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink, stray strands of hair sticking to his forehead - so utterly wrecked already. Though, you weren’t any better.

“S’for you, Cho.” you whine, jaw dropping at the sudden gush of cum that oozes down your legs as Choso pulls out completely - like a little punishment. Lips curling into a fucked-out little smirk at your adorable pout. “D-did it for you.”

Those simple words break him. You break him.

And Choso doesn’t even dare to give himself the chance to compose himself before bullying his swollen cock all the way back inside you again. Heavy balls smacking your ass hard enough to leave marks - good, let them leave marks. Milking himself over and over.

Groaning, “Shit- you don’t know what you do to me, baby.”

And your eyes flicker down at the hands suddenly all over you - everywhere, anywhere that Choso could reach. So that maybe next time when you wear such a sinful little sundress, everyone else will know to keep their eyes to themselves. Cupping your stomach to press down on where he was right there-

“Hngh- oh my god. So deep, ah-”

“Look s’fuckin’ gorgeous.” he spits into your mouth. Fingers bruising on your hips, your ass, kneading and groping every inch of skin. “Unfair- shit shit- they don’t have the right-” Tweaking your nipples, branding your neck, he runs a thumb under your swollen lower lip. “Don’ have the hah- right to look at what’s mine, right?”

“Y-yes.” you whimper, rutting your hips up pathetically to meet his merciless cadence. Hard abs so painful - maybe even bruising against your skin.

Choso’s tugging open your lips, and you let him. Way too drunk on his cock - his massive, unforgiving cock - to even think of stopping him.

Before you know it, he spits in your mouth, once. Twice. And you don’t even realize that this is what you’ve been waiting for - perhaps ever since you put on that slutty little sundress to tease him this morning - because you’re moaning half-lucidly. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let his saliva slide down your throat.

And Choso just looks like he could pass out right then and there.

He doesn’t know what’s more obscene - this or that little pool of cum spreading all over the sheets right now. Seeping into your skin, dribbling down your legs each time he moves in and out in and-

“Hated their s-stares. Their whispers.” Jaw falling slack, cock twitching wildly inside your tight walls. Words hurried and slurring together as he whispers, “Mine right?” Biting down your neck, licking hotly - almost as sloppy as his hips, “Only mine, yeah? Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!” you manage to sob out, jolting at the fingers starting up quick, erratic little circles on your poor clit. “Ngh- only you.”

“Mhm? I make you f-feel this hah- way?” he leans closer, cock ramming in and out of you so animalistically. “Only I get to paint this pretty pussy white.” Nibbling on your ear, “To s-stuff you full, hm?”

Honestly, Choso doesn’t even know if he could cum again but he had to - needed to. Balls squeezing while he fights to cum again - once more, to prove to himself, and you that you were his inside and out. And he tells you - a little over twelve times as he babbles into your lips.

“Mine. Shit shit shit- all f’me. Fuck, m’so close” And he could tell by the way you were squeezing so sinfully around him that you were too, moans getting all breathy and incoherent the way it did just before you were about to cum. “Gonna cum? F’me? H-hah- All f’me?”

“Yes! Yes yes yes- m’gonna-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence - Choso doesn’t let you.

Instead, drinking up all your sinful moans while he angles his hips just right to hit that one spot, at the same time he presses down against your clit. Hard.

You see stars as you cum, toes curling, legs pulling Choso by his toned hips so he could spill into you with an almost-pained grunt. Cock too sensitive, tears springing to his eyes as he cums and cums so hard he thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

And you, of course, are an angel.

An angel he’s pressing impossibly closer to. Biting up your collarbone, hips so filthy with the way he’s fucking rope after rope of hot seed into you.

Whispering hoarsely in your ear, “Ya finally know you’re mine or do I hafta ngh- teach you again?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Listen up!

“I could always get you off right here, y’know. Right now.”

And that’s exactly what he does - one look at his underlings sends them running. The door barely even slamming shut before Sukuna has your drenched panties in tatters on the floor, straddling his thick thigh, trying - desperately - to get yourself off with all that he would give.

“Y-you said you hngh- get me off.” you hiccup, bottom lip wobbling so pathetically as you drag your sloppy pussy all over Sukuna’s thigh.

And oh you sound so betrayed - so needy - that it might just be opening up a whole new realm of possibilities for the man himself. Doing nothing more but watch the way you ride his thigh like such a slut.

“So what if I said that?” he crosses his arms, intentionally blocking the mouth-watering view you had of his pecs. “Do it yourself. Think m’gonna be intimidated by a whore like you?”

You know he’s doing this to infuriate you, to get you to break and beg him for mercy. And all you can do is let out a soft gasp as Sukuna shifts his leg, the friction so good against your sensitive pussy. Having you see stars behind your eyes.

“Heh, too fucked out to even deny it?” he coos, making you whine and stutter your hips right where that sinful little thigh tattoo was. Pressing down. Hard. “You really are a whore. Is that why you let my ministers get close with you like that?”

“I-I didn’t-” your hips are out of control now, sliding your throbbing clit on the dips and curves of his leg. Absolutely soaked in your juices. “They jus’ asked me how to get to the-”

“And they think they can talk to their queen that way?”

Irritation is bleeding into Sukuna’s words now, eyes dark and hooded in a way that makes you wonder whether he realizes the iron-hold grip on your hips now. Hard. Nails sharp against your soft skin, rocking you harder on his thigh. Faster.

With a soft whimper, you let him pull you into a desperate desperate kiss. Just a clash of teeth and saliva and pure need. Pure intensity.

“Fuckin’ vermin.” You flinch as he spits out little profanities into your open mouth. “Should kill ‘em for even looking at you.” One hand digging into your hips, pushing and pulling them like you were too slow, the other shifting his robe. “Gonna kill them all.”

And maybe because you’re too stupid - or too cockdrunk - to think otherwise, because you gasp out little pleas of mercy. Letting Sukuna drink up your delirious little, “D-don’t kill them…”

“Ha?” Sukuna breaks the kiss, immediately stopping your lewd little movements on his leg. Leaning in close enough that his hot breath fans your face. “The fuck did you just say?”

Oh, shit. You were fucked. You were so so fucked.

“Nooo, Kuna I was so-”

“Close?” And oh, you should’ve known that would be a sign. Should’ve gotten an inkling by the way that Sukuna immediately lifts you from his thigh as if you weigh nothing, immediately hovering you right over his achingly hard dick - you won’t be making it out alive. “Who the fuck gave you permission to cum, brat?”

Nothing more is said before he’s making you sit so prettily on his dick - already soaked in precum and so so angry. Not even a hint of care or concern in the way he splits you apart on his swollen cock with barely any preparation. If you were gonna act like such a slut - might as well take it like one.

“I didn’t give ya permission to cum yet.” Sukuna grunt, lacing his fingers on top of your head to push you down, down, down his cock. “Did they?”

You can’t even form proper sentences at this point, the stretch too much. Too good. Letting out incoherent little babbles of what sounded like disagreement, or, that’s what Sukuna took it as anyway.

“Thought so.” Smirking at the feeble resistance, “Was defending you against that trash and you just had to fuck- go stand up f’them.” He fucks up into your tight pussy in quick, methodical grinds just to squeeze his thick cock inside. “S’like you wanted me to fuck you up right here. To have them hear how I fucking ruin this pretty pussy on my cock.”

You’re scrambling to grab at the chair, his bulging biceps, settling for clawing at his shoulders. Too desperate to even think of a better reply other than a teary little, “N-no- don’ wan-”

Which was useless, really, because any pathetic excuse Sukuna cuts off. Unable to help himself from giving one, harsh thrust that finally has your sweet cunt fully wrapped around his dick. Heavy balls smacking against your ass, squeezing him so tightly.

“Oh? What a shame.” His whisper is hot against your ear, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. Two fingers squishing your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, forcing you to look at the closed door. “Because they’re right outside listening to ya.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The show-off

The Kyoto exchange event isn’t always fun and games, Gojo thinks - ever since that new prick from Kyoto’s teaching staff started making eyes at you, that is.

How unprofessional! Conduct between teachers should definitely be reprimanded - no matter that Gojo had you snuck into his room, shirt hitting the floor faster than the door closes. His hands everywhere, throwing his blindfold around your neck, pulling you to bed so you can ride whatever remaining sanity out of him.

“T-Toru, what are you doing?” you squeal, as he starts bucking his hips wildly underneath you. Reeling his head back to watch the way his thick cock slides in and out of you. In and out in and out in and-

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart.” he fumbles with his phone, that familiar ping! ringing out over those lewd squelches below you. You and Gojo were no stranger to recording your little trysts - but why did he seem so eager about this one? “Jus’ do what you always do. Take it- fuck take it all f’me.”

And it’s all you can do - thighs shaking with effort as you desperately try to keep up with Gojo’s pace.

“Yeah- fuck yeah yeah. Feel so good- God I never get used to this.” And it’s true, he thinks - knows, he could never grow used to the heady feeling of wrecking your tight little pussy. Of drawing those cute lil’ whines of his name out of you. “N’ I know no one else would either.”

Gojo’s no stranger to running his mouth when he’s pussydrunk - and the way your plushy walls were squeezing him so tight, body curving into his as you milk the soul out of him - how could he not be?

“C’mon, sweetheart. Make a mess f’me - and him.”

All it takes is for those simple words for you to realize what he’s doing. And Gojo’s long fingers are becoming erratic on your clit, rolling his thumb over the sensitive nub. Hips sloppy like he was trying to fuck any and every rationality out of you.

It works, probably - because you know you should stop him recording. To tell him to put away that phone and just ruin you how he usually does.

But no, instead you’re only getting wetter. Knees spread, sopping hole so messy as you rock your hips even harder down Gojo’s throbbing cock. “So th-that’s what this is about.”

With a throaty groan, Gojo pulls you to him by his blindfold dangling around your neck - easy access, of course. Grip just a little tighter than it should be.

Looking up at you through his long lashes, eyes hazy - almost glowing in the camera flashlight. You see the way his lips curl into a satisfied grin.

“C-can you fuck- blame me?” he sounds so wrecked already. Hand growing tighter and tighter with each cute lil’ whine leaving your swollen lips. “Fuckin’ loser thinks he has the ngh- skills to pull you.” Toned pelvis now bruising against your own, words strained and you wonder whether he can remember to breathe - whether you can breathe. “N’ the skills t-to-” Hips jagged, filthy. “-fuck you.”

“Oh- shit shit shit. God, it feels too good-”

You’re wondering just how useful the video will actually be, because Gojo’s drawing out such slutty, loud moans from you that you’re half-sure most of campus can hear.

“He can never get you this wet.” Bullying his cock into your heavenly cunt like he was fucking addicted on the feeling. Thumb trembling as he tries to get the camera to focus on all the best parts. “This messy.”

The way your glistening pussy is stretched so obscenely around his cock, sucking him up so well. Disappearing into your dripping wet heaven. Your tits bouncing so enticingly in front of his face - marks littering your soft skin like you’d been thrown to the wolves. But, no, it’s just Gojo.

Just him that can ruin you like this, split you apart on his cock, have his blindfold wrapped around your cute neck.

“Jus’ me.” he gasps, blindfold tightening, phone so shaky. “He can’t compare to me. Fuck- fuck he can never compare.” His heavy balls sting your ass, merciless. “Can never be me.” Hips stuttering and so so sloppy, like he was running on pure adrenaline and the need to prove to the camera that he could ruin you like he promised. “Never. You’re mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin.” Tightening. “Mine to break.”

“Sh-shit- you’re too much, Toru.”

“You agree, right?” he suddenly sounds so serious. Knuckles whitening against the blindfold. “No one can hngh- do it like m-me?” Blood roaring in your ears, vision getting spotty, like he wouldn’t let up until he hears what he wants. “No one?”

“Hah- fuck, no one-” you wheeze through his grip, “Only you, Toru.”

Then you’re cumming.

And Gojo’s not far behind as he buries himself deeper to stuff you so full of his seed, chasing peak after peak and the sinful feeling of your gummy walls being so dripping wet - with him.

And what a view it was - his girl’s poor pussy so overfilled. You catch the way it drips down the side, cum pooling at Gojo’s twitching balls. Such an obscene white, that it makes Gojo him about painting it all over again. Yeah, his favorite view - and the camera’s too.

“Almost too good of a view.” he grins, looking up at you with twinkling eyes that definitely didn’t bode well for your poor, ravaged pussy - or your sanity. “N’ I just exchanged numbers with that new Kyoto teacher…”

A/N. Also happy pride month hehe.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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autistichalsin · 5 months ago

Text

In retrospect, four years later, I feel like the Isabel Fall incident was just the biggest ignored cautionary tale modern fandom spaces have ever had. Yes, it wasn't limited to fandom, it was also a professional author/booktok type argument, but it had a lot of crossover.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: a writer, whether fan or pro, publishes a work. If one were to judge a book by its cover, something we are all taught in Kindergarten shouldn't happen but has a way of occurring regardless, one might find that there was something that seemed deeply problematic about this work. Maybe the title or summary alluded to something Wrong happening, or maybe the tags indicated there was problematic kinks or relationships. And that meant the story was Bad. So, a group of people takes to the Twittersphere to inform everyone who will listen why the work, and therefore the author, are Bad. The author, receiving an avalanche of abuse and harassment, deactivates their account, and checks into a mental health facility for monitoring for suicidal ideation. They never return to their writing space, and the harassers get a slap on the wrist (if that- usually they get praise and high-fives all around) and start waiting for their next victim to transgress.

Sounds awful familiar, doesn't it?

Isabel Fall's case, though, was even more extreme for many reasons. See, she made the terrible mistake of using a transphobic meme as the genesis to actually explore issues of gender identity.

More specifically, she used the phrase "I sexually identify as an attack helicopter" to examine how marginalized identities, when they become more accepted, become nothing more than a tool for the military-industrial complex to rebrand itself as a more personable and inclusive atrocity; a chance to pursue praise for bombing brown children while being progressive, because queer people, too, can help blow up brown children now! It also contained an examination of identity and how queerness is intrinsic to a person, etc.

But... well, if harassers ever bothered to read the things they critique, we wouldn't be here, would we? So instead, they called Isabel a transphobic monster for the title alone, even starting a misinformation campaign to claim she was, in fact, a cis male nazi using a fake identity to psyop the queer community.

A few days later, after days of horrific abuse and harassment, Isabel requested that Clarkesworld magazine pull the story. She checked in to a psych ward with suicidal thoughts. That wasn't all, though; the harassment was so bad that she was forced to out herself as trans to defend against the claims.

Only... we know this type of person, the fandom harassers, don't we? You know where this is going. Outing herself did nothing to stop the harassment. No one was willing to read the book, much less examine how her sexuality and gender might have influenced her when writing it.

So some time later, Isabel deleted her social media. She is still alive, but "Isabel Fall" is not- because the harassment was so bad that Isabel detransitioned/closeted herself, too traumatized to continue living her authentic life.

Supposed trans allies were so outraged at a fictional portrayal of transness, written by a trans woman, that they harassed a real life trans woman into detransitioning.

It's heartbreakingly familiar, isn't it? Many of us in fandom communities have been in Isabel's shoes, even if the outcome wasn't so extreme (or in some cases, when it truly was). Most especially, many of us, as marginalized writers speaking from our own experiences in some way, have found that others did not enjoy our framework for examining these things, and hurt us, members of those identities, in defense of "the community" as a nebulous undefined entity.

There's a quote that was posted in a news writeup about the whole saga that was published a year after the fact. The quote is:

The delineation between paranoid and reparative readings originated in 1995, with influential critic Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. A paranoid reading focuses on what’s wrong or problematic about a work of art. A reparative reading seeks out what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art, even if the work is flawed. Importantly, a reparative reading also tends to consider what might be nourishing or healing in a work of art for someone who isn’t the reader. This kind of nuance gets completely worn away on Twitter, home of paranoid readings. “[You might tweet], ‘Well, they didn’t discuss X, Y, or Z, so that’s bad!’ Or, ‘They didn’t’ — in this case — ‘discuss transness in a way that felt like what I feel about transness, therefore it is bad.’ That flattens everything into this very individual, very hostile way of reading,” Mandelo says. “Part of reparative reading is trying to think about how a story cannot do everything. Nothing can do everything. If you’re reading every text, fiction, or criticism looking for it to tick a bunch of boxes — like if it represents X, Y, and Z appropriately to my definitions of appropriate, and if it’s missing any of those things, it’s not good — you’re not really seeing the close focus that it has on something else.”

A paranoid reading describes perfectly what fandom culture has become in the modern times. It is why "proship", once simply a word for common sense "don't engage with what you don't like, and don't harass people who create it either" philosophies, has become the boogeyman of fandom, a bad and dangerous word. The days of reparative readings, where you would look for things you enjoyed, are all but dead. Fiction is rarely a chance to feel joy; it's an excuse to get angry, to vitriolically attack those different from oneself while surrounded with those who are the same as oneself. It's an excuse to form in-groups and out-groups that must necessarily be in a constant state of conflict, lest it come across like This side is accepting That side's faults. In other words, fandom has become the exact sort of space as the nonfandom spaces it used to seek to define itself against.

It's not about joy. It's not about resonance with plot or characters. It's about hate. It's about finding fault. If they can't find any in the story, they will, rest assured, create it by instigating fan wars- dividing fandom into factions and mercilessly attacking the other.

And that's if they even went so far as to read the work they're critiquing. The ones they don't bother to read, as you saw above, fare even worse. If an AO3 writer tagged an abuser/victim ship, it's bad, it's fetishism, even if the story is about how the victim escapes. If a trans writer uses the title "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter" to find a framework to dissect rainbow-washing the military-industrial complex, it's unforgivable. It's a cesspool of kneejerk reactions, moralizing discomfort, treating good/evil as dichotomous categories that can never be escaped, and using that complex as an excuse to heap harassment on people who "deserve it." Because once you are Bad, there is no action against you that is too Bad for you to deserve.

Isabel Fall's story follows this so step-by-step that it's like a textbook case study on modern fandom behavior.

Isabel Fall wrote a short story with an inflammatory title, with a genesis in transphobic mockery, in the hopes of turning it into a genuine treatise on the intersection of gender and sexuality and the military-industrial complex. But because audiences are unprepared for the idea of inflammatory rhetoric as a tool to force discomfort to then force deeper introspection... they zeroed in on the discomfort. "I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter"- the title phrase, not the work- made them uncomfortable. We no longer teach people how to handle discomfort; we live in a world of euphemism and glossing over, a world where people can't even type out the words "kill" and rape", instead substituting "unalive" and "grape." We don't deal with uncomfortable feelings anymore; we censor them, we transform them, we sanitize them. When you are unable to process discomfort, when you are never given self-soothing tools, your only possible conclusion is that anything Uncomfortable must be Bad, and the creator must either be censored too, or attacked into conformity so that you never again experience the horrors of being Uncomfortable.

So the masses took to Twitter, outraged. They were Uncomfortable, and that de facto meant that they had been Wronged. Because the content was related to trans identity issues, that became the accusation; it was transphobic, inherently. It couldn't be a critique of bigger and more fluid systems than gender identity alone; it was a slight against trans people. And no amount of explanations would change their minds now, because they had already been aggrieved and made to feel Uncomfortable.

Isabel Fall was now a Bad Person, and we all know what fandom spaces do to Bad People. Bad People, because they are Bad, will always be deserving of suicide bait and namecalling and threatening. Once a person is Bad, there is no way to ever become Good again. Not by refuting the accusations (because the accusations are now self-evident facts; "there is a callout thread against them" is its own tautological proof that wrongdoing has happened regardless of the veracity of the claims in the callout) and not by apologizing and changing, because if you apologize and admit you did the Bad thing, you are still Bad, and no matter what you do in future, you were once Bad and that needs to be brought up every time you are mentioned. If you are bad, you can NEVER be more than what you were at your worst (in their definition) moment. Your are now ontologically evil, and there is no action taken against you that can be immoral.

So Isabel was doomed, naturally. It didn't matter that she outed herself to explain that she personally had lived the experience of a trans woman and could speak with authority on the atrocity of rainbow-washing the military industrial complex as a proaganda tool to capture progressives. None of it mattered. She had written a work with an Uncomfortable phrase for a title, the readers were Uncomfortable, and someone had to pay for it.

And that's the key; pay for it. Punishment. Revenge. It's never about correcting behavior. Restorative justice is not in this group's vocabulary. You will, incidentally, never find one of these folks have a stance against the death penalty; if you did Bad as a verb, you are Bad as an intrinsic, inescapable adjective, and what can you do to incorrigible people but kill them to save the Normal people? This is the same principle, on a smaller scale, that underscores their fandom activities; if a Bad fan writes Bad fiction, they are a Bad person, and their fandom persona needs to die to save Normal fans the pain of feeling Uncomfortable.

And that's what happened to Isabel Fall. The person who wrote the short story is very much alive, but the pseudonym of Isabel Fall, the identity, the lived experiences coming together in concert with imagination to form a speculative work to critique deeply problematic sociopolitical structures? That is dead. Isabel Fall will never write again, even if by some miracle the person who once used the name does. Even if she ever decides to restart her transition, she will be permanently scarred by this experience, and will never again be able to share her experience with us as a way to grow our own empathy and challenge our understanding of the world. In spirit, but not body, fandom spaces murdered Isabel Fall.

And that's... fandom, anymore. That's just what is done, routinely and without question, to Bad people. Good people are Good, so they don't make mistakes, and they never go too far when dealing with Bad people. And Bad people, well, they should have thought before they did something Bad which made them Bad people.

Isabel Fall's harassment happened in early 2020, before quarantine started, but it was in so many ways a final chance for fandom to hit the breaks. A chance for fandom to think collectively about what it wanted to be, who it wanted to be for and how it wanted to do it. And fandom looked at this and said, "more, please." It continues to harass marginalized people, especially fans of color and queen fans, into suffering mental breakdowns. With gusto.

Any ideas of reparative reading is dead. Fandom runs solely on paranoid readings. And so too is restorative justice gone for fandom transgressions, real or imagined. It is now solely about punitive, vigilante justice. It's a concerted campaign to make sure oddballs conform or die (in spirit, but sometimes even physically given how often mentally ill individuals are pushed into committing suicide).

It's a deeply toxic environment and I'm sad to say that Isabel Fall's story was, in retrospect, a sort of event horizon for the fandom. The gravitational pull of these harassment campaigns is entirely too strong now and there is no escaping it. I'm sorry, I hate to say something so bleak, but thinking the last few days about the state of fandom (not just my current one but also others I watch from the outside), I just don't think we can ever go back to peaceful "for joy" engagement, not when so many people are determined to use it as an outlet for lateral aggression against other people.

#isabel fall #fandom #proship #proshippers please interact #proship please interact #profiction

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2tarbell · 4 months ago

Note

one order for a vanilla birthday cake pleaseee!

kook!reader texting rafe “what position have you got her in?” when he takes too long to respond to a text

happy birthday, angel 💓

BSF!RAFE + KOOK!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

manicured pink nails tapped impatiently on the restaurant table. eyes glued to the bedazzled device with a glittery pout adorning her lips. this was so unfair. rafe would have a fucking conniption if she even thought about not texting him back. and now it’s been… seven fucking minutes? yeah, right.

the last time she left him on delivered for two minutes he was blowing her phone up and all grumbly the rest of the week, pounding her into oblivion for playing games. dont get her wrong; she loved it. being fucked within an inch of her life was her favorite pastime.

but now? rafe cameron was like the worst hypocrite known to man.

‘what position u got her in?’

‘Be so fr’

it brought a smile to her pretty face seeing his sassy reply. with a satisfied huff, she set her phone face down on the table. why not make him sweat? picking up her long island iced tea with a devious grin, she was right back into the conversation with her girls.

the table was alight with giggles and gossip — the pack of kook girls enjoying lunch together after before hitting the beach.

it was supposed to be an easy day, a break from all the confusion and feelings still swirling around princess and her tall, handsome “best friend”. and she desperately needed that. needed some semblance of normalcy before shit took off and everything on the island changed when the two most hated and loved rich kids finally get together.

so she didn’t even flinch when her phone vibrated once, twice, thrice. she only excused herself from the conversation with a smile when her phone buzzed in a rhythmic pattern — a phone call. bubbles of giddy excitement filling her tummy as ‘rafey’ showed on the screen with a point five angled photo of him looking pissed.

“‘kay— be right back, girls!” she sang, already standing with her phone in hand.

“he finally called you, huh?” melodie, a beautiful brunette in a lilac bikini top teased. the table giggled, all looking at princess and feeling a rush of girlish excitement.

“get your man, baby!” another girl, aliyah, borderline squealed.

princess flushed, feeling her body heat up at the prospect of rafe being ‘her man’. god, imagine! she waved them off embarrassedly, teetering away on her platform flip flops, pleasantly tipsy as she leans against the outside wall of the restaurant.

“hellooooo?”

her voice was sugary sweet into the phone, looking down at her nails and checking the polish for any chips. the warm timbre of rafe cameron’s voice rumbled through the speaker, directly pressed into her ear. she found herself wishing to feel his lips moving around the words and against the shell of her ear.

“you’re somethin’ else, dollface.” he mumbled and she could hear the smirk on his lips.

“aw, you didn’t say ‘hi’, rafe…” she pouted, biting back a laugh at the sound of his heavy sigh on the other end.

“hi. you’re somethin’ else.”

“hiii. why’s that?”

his laugh came through the speaker, all deep and settling into her bones like it always does. she hears the tick, tick of his blinker, meaning he’s driving somewhere in that big truck of his.

princess looks around at the marina, taking the sight of obx residents enjoying the still warm, early fall weather. hot enough to take a dip without the water being freezing yet. rafe continued on as she flitted her gaze around the area.

he ignored her question, instead asking his own.

“checked your location. you tipsy right now?”

a giggle escaped her glossy lips, head lolling slightly, “mmm, maybe… why?”

“go back in and pay. sent you one fifty.”

she froze, pulling the phone from her ear and seeing an apple pay notification. he always did this. not like she could just use her dad’s card or anything.

“rafe cameron—“

he cut her off, hanging up after and not letting her protest, “hey— pay and then come back out. know i’ll let ‘chu make it up to me, a’ight?”

it was like a reverse walk of shame — explaining to her friends why she was leaving early and why she was covering the whole tab. walking back out with her purse on her arm as the familiar rumble of his truck approached, petulant in the way her arms were crossed. he pulled up right before her, rolling down the passenger window and smiling in that frustratingly charming way. dickhead.

she hung up with a guffaw, not believing he actually showed up when she was hanging with her friends. the possessive gesture makes her heart jump then fall. very boyfriend of him.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

“oh, that’s how you talk to someone who just paid for your lunch? get in.”

she scoffed, amused at his gall. even more so at the fact she listened — shoes clacking against the pavement. rafe leaned over the console, opening the door for her. he looks good and smells better. that cologne she bought him for his birthday last year that he seems to be wearing a lot recently. an intoxicating smell that makes her feel drunker.

a plaid button up, rolled up to the elbow and exposing strong, veiny arms causes her mind to wander as he leans closer to her.

“hey, gorgeous,” that low drawl sends goosebumps over her body, paired with a half smile that’s so pretty.

comfortable in the seat she’s become so familiar with, he closes the gap between them. giving her a kiss so casual and natural, it makes her fluffy lashes flutter rapidly. sticky gloss transfered on his mouth that he doesn’t even wipe away.

she’s even more confused when flowers are thrusted into her arms. princess blinks at him like a fish — feeling a warmth settle in her chest at the sight of her favorite blooms wrapped haphazardly in brown paper.

“they, uh— they were in this ugly fuckin’ plastic. know you hate that so… yeah,” rafe shrugs it off as he pulls out of the parking lot.

princess decides this is technically a kidnapping. especially because she’s never been more confused and lost in her life.

he leans back in the seat, driving with one hand lazily, confidently. a glimpse of blue eyes at her and she’s smiling wildly, bringing the flowers to her nose to smell them. princess leans over and kisses his cheek, feeling drunker on the moment and smell of his skin.

“i— thank you, rafey…”

rafe takes notice of how small her voice is, how vulnerable. he nods, switching hands to rest one on her leg. large, warm palm soothing her and pulling her out of her mind before she can even begin to cause herself to spiral.

he clears his throat, squeezing the plush, smooth skin of her thigh, “cowgirl.”

her furrowed brow is adorable. looking up from the bouquet in her lap and over at him in question. there’s a drunken slowness to her, a haze. he hums and pushes his hand higher — marking a mental note of how easily her legs spread to make room for him.

“that’s what position imma have you in.”

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