#but i just wanna lay here ig

[3-aem]

my arts been doing bad on twtter. ive recovered in the past but i worry this time will be different. the idea of losing such a large platform makes me wonder if theres point in continuing even if i feel tremendously guilty admitting that.

as my therapist pointed out today: ppl still like my art. still when i think about it i think there are other artists for you all though. better ones have come along and better ones will still come.

im in my 20s and i haven’t really gotten a chance to live my life properly since the pandemic bc of it. still art is important to me and the idea of losing it has me feeling listless. what do i do when its been who i am for years.

im unsure tbh if im going to quit.

i draw what i like but i don’t see purpose in drawing for myself.

anyways this isnt that deep my therapist is just on leave next week and i wanna cut my hair again

[reikunrei]

:/

[todayisafridaynight]

just wanted to make a cute short comic but then i told myself i have to redraw the first half of the sceneim basing the comic off of so now it's THREE pages instead of two

[ventcode]

so he just not responding alr i see how it is

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

i did lots of laundry today and i am changing my sheets and i would like a little bit of gentleness from the universe

[ozlices]

getting to that point again where our amxiety is building again as it does every few yrs. however, we rly do not have it in us to restart anymore so. we're probably just gonna make our blog priv & mass make our posts unrbable. it's the closest we can get to the comforting privacy of twt. so, yeah. no idea when we're gonna do it kinda depends on energy which has been quite wishy washy, but it will happen at some point. ty in advance for being understanding.

[rinhaler]

I’m begging you to write a bimbo x Toji fanfic

IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE IM BEGGING YOU🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀���🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Been in a BJ mood so enjoy some 69ing xoxo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, bimbo!reader, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby), daddy kink, spanking, 69ing, messy blowjob + pussy eating (duh), head pushing, praise, dumbification, degradation, age gap, exhibitionism ig?

words: 2.1k

“He’s not here, sweetheart.”

The bass of his voice rattles throughout your nervous system. And before you know it, you’re squeezing your thighs together and biting your lip as you look up at him, the way he almost entirely fills the space between the door frame. A slow smirk beginning to play on his lips as he watches you.

You’ve had a crush on your best friends dad since the first time he brought you over to hang out. He didn’t seem particularly interested in you, at first. Not until your skirts got shorter and your tops became skimpier.

“We had plans…” you pout a little, glossy lips shimmering in the afternoon sun. He clears his throat, adjusting his stance a little as he continues to look down at you.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, a little more curtly than intended. “And what plans were those?”

“Mm,” you hum, flicking through your texts to pull up your thread with Megumi. “Wanna hang out on Thursday? I can get us some booze and we can relax around the pool. My dad will be at wor— wait, you’re not at work?”

“Because it’s Monday, baby. Not Thursday.” he laughs a little as he shows you the date on his own phone. “Got a little confused there, huh? He’s at the library with the pink haired one, he ain’t here.”

“Oh…” you pout again. “’m sorry. I guess I should be studying too, I’ll go meet him there. See ya later Mister Fushiguroooo~!” you smile before beginning to skip away.

“Hey,” he calls after you. A grin quickly spreads across your face before you turn to face him again. He kisses his teeth, looking you up and down slower and more purposefully than ever before. He curls his finger, prompting you to come closer. “You’re all dressed for the beach, not the library. You can come in ‘n wait for him here, baby. You even brought your li’l swimsuit in your bag, huh? Come on.” he tilts his head as he walks inside.

You follow him hurriedly, closing the door after yourself when you enter. He doesn’t wait around for you, jogging up the stairs and shutting the door loudly after himself. You huff, wondering what the point of coming inside was if you’re just gonna be waiting by yourself anyway.

It doesn’t deter you, though. You dip into the downstairs bathroom and change into your swimsuit, sauntering outside to set up a lounger so you can at least catch a few rays before Megumi gets back.

You lay back, immediately feeling your skin heat up as the sun burns down onto your still body. There’s a lack of breeze, and the warmth soon becomes suffocating.

But soon enough, the sun disappears. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sudden change, your body plunged into shade and your temperature drops. You open your eyes, your best friends obscenely large father blocking out the ball of fire as he stands above you.

“Here, keep hydrated.” he orders, putting down a fruity looking cocktail filled to the brim with ice by your side. His white, open shirt begins to billow from a brief gust of wind, and he takes his seat with his own drink on the lounger beside yours.

He wasn’t avoiding you after all, he was getting changed.

You lean over, taking a small sip of the cocktail by your side. “Oh shit, that’s so yummy. Did you make it?”

He smirks again, but keeps his eyes closed as he lays back under the shade of his parasol. “Nah, the butler did it.”

“Really?” you ask, excitedly.

He can’t help but laugh at your naivety, turning his head to look at you. “No, sweetheart. Have you ever seen a butler around here? Course I made it.” he tells you, drinking in your bewildered expression as how gullible you are begins to dawn on you. “You ain’t too bright, are ya?”

“That’s—” you speak instantly, but put your drink back down to soak up the sun once more. “Mean.”

“Awe, sorry darlin’,” he smiles at you, but you don’t see it. “At least you’re pretty.”

He angles his head to face the sun, while yours snaps to look at him. You can’t hide your wide, cheesy smile as the words race through your mind.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re pretty.

At least you’re—

“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt out, though you feel no shame as the words leave your mouth. It’s the best thing you’ve ever heard another human being say to you in your life. Megumi’s hot dad thinks you’re pretty.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” he faces you, finally, running his tongue along his top row of teeth. “You’re a gorgeous little thing, that’s for sure. Gonna give an old man like me the wrong idea, walkin’ around in a skimpy swimsuit like that.”

“The wrong idea?” you tilt your head at him. “I dunno what you mean, Mister Fushiguro.”

“Mmm, I betch’a don’t. I love li’l airheads like you.” he sneers. “Or maybe you know exactly what I mean, ‘n you’re just pretending to be dumb.”

You pout again as you think about what he’s saying. He watches you as you try and understand his words, the notion of pretending to be anything utterly perplexing you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though he’s a little surprised to see you roll onto your side so you can look at him properly.

“… Are you flirting with me?” you wonder.

“Hah,” he snickers. “You’re really tryna get me in trouble, huh? Would ya like that?”

“… uh-huh…” you nod slowly, biting your lip again. You watch as he smirks at you, adrenaline running through your veins as you wonder where this is heading. Is he simply teasing you?

“Have you got a li’l crush on me, sweetheart? That’s real bad. Remember who I am? Your best friends old man.”

“You’re not an old man,” you try to assure him. But he can only laugh at your idiocy once more. “Had a crush on you forever…” you admit, getting up from your lounger and walking over to his. You decide to take the risk, moving each of your legs on either side of him before slowly lowering yourself.

He bites his own lip, aged scar pulling deliciously as he smooths his hands over the curves of your waist. A grunt rumbles through his throat as you barely move, lightly humping against his stiffening cock.

And in an instant, your bikini is soaked.

You rut your hips more, and more, until he holds you still.

“Wanna fuck.” you whimper, and he starts to tut.

“Mmm, me too. Maybe next time.” he thinks, cock flexing as he imagines the feeling of your tight walls wrapping around him so perfectly. “Wan’ you to put that empty head of yours to good use.” he tells you.

A dazed expression decorates your face as you try and decode what he means. But instead of leaving you confused, he carefully pushes you away from his growing bulge so he can pull out his leaking length.

“Go on, princess. Suck me off.” he tells you.

You’re too astonished by the sight of his cock to even move. A beautiful thickness with a gorgeous curve you can only use as a fantasy for future reference as you imagine it hitting and stretching every spot inside.

He’s amazed that you don’t need to be told twice, however, you soon position yourself to take his length into your salivating mouth. You look up at him with wide, wet eyes as you kiss and suck his tip. Only looking away to spit into your hand, using it to jerk him off whilst you continue to suck like your life depends on it.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even taken aback as you further pull down his beach shorts to free his balls. He’s besotted at the sight of you, completely and wholly lovestruck as you produce enough saliva to completely soak his length, spittle dripping and sliding as it drenches his cock and balls. He winces as you cup them, licking up and down his cock before you suck one into your mouth.

All the while, your eyes are on him. Never before has he felt embarrassed whilst receiving head. But right now, he feels entirely at your mercy. He holds your gaze, though, intent on overriding the feelings of embarrassment as you turn him into a grunting and groaning puddle.

“Fuuuuuck, sweetheart,” he grins, chest heaving as you don’t let up on him. Your fist becomes a blur, and even still, he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your grip. “Pretty little girl… look s’cute with your mouth full’a my cock.”

You moan, at that. The praise overwhelming you enough to release one of his balls from your mouth before you go back to sucking him off. You take him deeper and deeper, as deep as you can take him without showing any signs of gagging.

“Such a good cocksucker for me, baby,” he tells you as he starts to push your head down on him. “Knew that an airhead like you would be a fucking pro.”

“G-Got such a big dick, daddy.” you tell him as you push off of him, desperate to tell him. He drags you up closer to him, kissing you sloppily as your body presses into his. You lie comfortably in his embrace in the shaded spot, moaning into his mouth as you grind down on his cock. “P-Please fuck me.”

“Oh, princess… does your little cunt need daddy’s attention?” he wonders, kissing you again. “Told ya, I want my cock sucked.” he slaps your ass. “Move, go on.” he orders, though despite his instruction, he begins to manhandle you.

You’re soon positioned so you’re practically sitting on his face while his throbbing cock is back in yours. He moves the material of your bikini into the crease of your thigh and gives your pussy a light spank.

“Don’t stare at it, sweetheart. Suck my cock, now.”

You immediately do as you’re told, taking him down your throat while he teases you enough to have you trembling. Touching anywhere and everywhere except where you need him most. Until finally, he places a delicate kiss between your sodden folds.

“Baby, she’s drooling. You really do have a crush on me.” he chuckles. He wastes no more time, after that, burying his face between your thighs and slurping up your lewdness. He moans into your folds before he shoves two fingers into your clenching hole.

His cock falls from between your lips, then, and you moan loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear you. He slaps your ass again, and it’s hard. “Shut up.” he warns. “I won’t let you cum if you do that again.”

The warning is enough to make you focus yourself on his pleasure. His mouth is making your toes curl and your head become emptier than even he thought possible. Tears begin to flow from your eyes as you do all you can to prioritise him and keep your moans to yourself.

Your throat tightens and constricts the more you withhold. You can’t control it fully, still humming around him. It’s somewhat calculated, yes. But the thought of being caught or ratted out to Megumi is making him a little more cautious. Then again, if he really didn’t wanna be caught, he wouldn’t be fucking his sons best friend in the backyard.

He pulls away, still curling his fingers into your g-spot as his face shimmers from your sticky folds. “Can’t believe you called me daddy you little slut,” he spanks you. “That’s right, isn’t it baby? You’re daddy’s dumb little slut.”

“Mhmm!” you mewl. “Mmm, mmm, mmm~!” you whine as you begin to unfurl. Your cunt squeezes hard enough to almost break his fingers, though it doesn’t deter him from devouring you whole. He begins to thrust up into your mouth, and he shoots ribbon after ribbon of hot white cum between your drool soaked lips.

Neither of you move, both exhausted from the overwhelming release.

“Wh— Did that just… happen?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Sure did,” he laughs, slapping your ass as he does. “You need to give me your number, baby. I gotta be able to text you when Megumi ain’t home.”

“Hm…” you consider it. “Why would I come over again when Megumi isn’t here?”

“God, princess, you really can’t think why? Daddy wants to be able to split your pussy open on his cock whenever he wants. Don’t want Megumi home for that, do ya baby?”

“N-No…” you sigh dreamily, closing your eyes as you finally move to lie comfortably beside him. “You better fuck me next time!”

“Next time?” he grins. “Megs won’t be home for a few hours. I’ll fuck you in a few minutes, sweetheart.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[ugh-yoongi]

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[whimsidollie]

Started crying while laying on my back and got so weirded out by the feeling of a tear going in my ear that it snappd me out of my spiral

[sugawhaaa]

💄ATEEZ SMUT HEADCANONS💄

🎀Lingerie they like to see you in🎀

Warnings::smut

Pairing:: ot8!ateez! X fem!reader

A/N:: I originally thought about scraping this idea but it randomly hit me this morning with Hongjoongs prompt and I was like sure here we go ig

Ateez h/c masterlist:: ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Hongjoong

He likes that cute stuff 🤭 his mindset wouldn't be as much "I wanna fuck her in that" it's more of a "she looks so cute I love her so much," while edging you with his fingers. He loves to lay you back in the bed and finger you. He would love to just gaze up at your body while he does so, it'd turn him on so much. If you wore lingerie underneath other clothing and he saw a peak of pink he would flip tf out, in a good way.

Lingerie would be used more for soft sex and making you feel good, not so much punishment. However, he wouldn't mind you wearing during a little punishment session as long as he can tie up your hands or something else kinky to balance out the vibe. It would feel weird if he was disciplining you while you were wearing this cute little outfit so he needs something else dark and kinky to make it less cutesy.

Seonghwa

He would like something kinda plain and simple but still sexy. He would like the more darker colors like black, red, maroon, etc. He's definitely more of the "I wanna fuck you in it," typa guy but I also have this weird fantasy I think Seonghwa would have.

He would make you wear the lingerie around the house for a day with a remote shoved up your pussy that he can control through an app on his phone. He'd randomly turn it up and down, change the modes and basically make you fall to the ground randomly. He would love to receive photos and videos of you in it too. Occasionally would make you finger yourself in front of him while wearing it. Overall whatever Lingerie you buy it's going to be used...a lot.

Yunho

He's a very plain guy but this specific outfit is the one he would buy in a flash for you. The stockings, the way the straps go up to your neck and create a collar, the gap in the crotch for him to slip his finger into, it's just perfect. At first Yunho wouldn't think he likes lingerie, the thought of it isn't really something that makes him jump for joy but let me tell you the first time he sees you cum in that outfit he is addicted.

We have another filmer over here and he is not shy about it. He has a locked folder on his phone full of photos and videos of you in your lingerie set. He's a big fan of fingering you in it, less about actual sex. He'd sit you in front of the mirror and mumble in your ear about how good you look.

Yeosang

Generally a pretty calm boy with it. He'd love to cuddle you in it and just roam his hands around your body. More of a photo shoot kinda guy and likes the way you feel confident in it. Definitely an "I wanna fuck you in it," guy so those little slits in the crotch of the lingerie would almost always be a must.

He likes it when you wear the more flowy, elegant type of lingerie and oh this boy loves lace as well. Receiving oral from him is also basically a must when you wear lingerie. (I need to remind you all that he can flip his tongue 180°) he would like to tease you through your panties a lot. When there's that little gap in the crotch he would swirl his tongue in between it and back again and if there wasn't a gap he would continuously press his tongue right at your opening but of course due to the fabric his tongue wouldn't actually go in, creating an annoying edging feeling.

San

He needs you to feel rich and like fucking royalty. Give him those gems, lace, and beautiful gowns because he is going to treat you like a real lady. He would do everything while you wear it too. Oral, fingering, toys, and actual penetration. He would like these specific color combos too, ruby red with black (like the photo) and black with gold accents.

Of course, San loves seeing your gorgeous body but he knows you don't always feel gorgeous in it. That's why he showers you in expensive lingerie to make you feel as gorgeous as he sees you. Not only this but it can play into role-playing situations, making you his queen while he's a pitiful slave. Yup he just adores you and worships you.

Mingi

No shame. He likes some really kinky shit and low-key isn't afraid to admit it. He wouldn't be exactly into purely made stuff but it's just the dynamic he likes. Also, those bunny outfits 🥴 mingi would totally be okay with you wearing other kinds of lingerie if you wanted and he could treat you cutesy like Yeosang or San but when it comes to his personal opinion he would rather you look like a fucked up mess for him.

He would like to do some role-play with you while you wear lingerie but not in the way people may think. He's not all about "You're my slave" or "you're my slut" he's more about the fact that you belong to him. So you're not just a slave you're HIS slave. It would also make his heart literally stop for a good 10 minutes if you sent him a cute little mirror selfie in your outfit 🤭

Wooyoung

He's a pretty classy guy. Lingerie isn't his biggest interest though, he would much rather fuck you raw than have clothing in the way. However he does like taking and receiving photos of you in lingerie. The best thing for Wooyoung though is teasing him with it.

Lingerie in your relationship is kind of like a way of saying "Let's have sex" without having to have a whole conversation about it. Though sometimes you'll tease him by wearing it and being like "I'm not in the mood," even though you clearly are. He'd get cranky and pout at you. "But baby, we agreed on this," he'd whine, and when you finally agree that you are infact in the mood you'd torture him even more by making him sit back and watch you play with yourself. You would have to tie him down or use some other form of punishment in order to get him to not interfere.

Even though this whole little scheme makes him mad he can't deny the fact he loves it and it makes him so hard every time.

Jongho

Currently bashing my head against the wall because this specific lingerie set is exactly what Jongho would love. Jongho is definitely the "I wanna fuck you in it," guy BUT not in a rough way. He just thinks you look so beautiful and pretty and just everything he could ever want. He would lowkey be into filming you, with your consent of course, and would rewatch the videos more than any sane person would.

He would like daytime sex with lingerie so he can see it in natural light. He would like you to have your hair down and not in his hands so he can see it all flow down with your pretty lingerie.

[m0llygunn]

the alligator and the weirdo (eddie munson x fem!reader)

eddie shares some of his imaginative thoughts that he has during intimate moments

cw: 18+! mature language, smut, oral (f receiving), eddie being an absolute weirdo (affectionate) an: i was reading comments on an ig post months ago and there were so many guys who were talking about the alligator thing so yeah thanks random instagram guys for this idea wc: 2.2k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Wanna hear something that you’ll hate?” 

Turning your head, you look at Eddie laying the short distance away from you in the bed. The rubix cube that was keeping him busy has been tossed to the side and he smiles toothily at you, brows wiggling as he awaits your answer. Bad news— abort immediately.  

“No,” you answer flatly. You move your book to block his view of you but he quickly tugs it away, tucking it under his arm. 

“Well, apple of my eye, love of my life,” he starts, smiling wider than ever. You don't even bother trying to get your book back, you know it's no use. Mawkishly corny, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it and you know whatever he's about to say is going to be awful with the way he's working up to it. He looks up at you, “Today is your lucky day, because I’m going to tell you anyway,” he finishes. 

“Is it actually something I’m going to hate?” you sigh.

“Yes,” he smiles, thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand that he continues to hold, keeping it hostage in his grip.

You pause, desperately trying to read him. He doesn’t give much away, just that he’s up to no good. 

Unsure and honestly afraid, you tilt your head, “but is it going to piss me off?” you ask, needing a sincere answer. 

“You won’t be angry, per se” he replies, voice pitching up with his dramatics.

“Then why would I hate it?” you retort. 

He shrugs so boyishly you almost forget to keep up your attitude. “You’re just going to hate it,” he sings matter of factly. 

“Eddie,” you whine. He squeezes your hand to his chest, rolling his eyes at you playfully. 

Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, he promised you that. It was supposed to be quiet and chill– you were going to read, and he was going to… do something? Anything that he could do quietly. Obviously, he's changed his mind and has now resorted to teasing you. 

“Fine, fine, you got me— I’ll tell you,” he huffs as if you’ve threatened him. Dramatic, dramatic, dramatic.  

Speaking of dramatic, you swat him lightly for his antics, smacking your free hand to his chest and he overreacts, throwing his head back into the pillow with a pained howl. His face, scrunched up in faux pain, quickly changes to a desperate plea, eyes wide and brows turning up. 

“No! Please, I already said I’d tell you. Please, no need for violence— I’ll tell you!” he rushes out, putting his hands together in a prayer to you. With a shake of your head, disapproving his boisterous behaviour, you hold back your smile by biting your lip. 

“I’m going home,” you threaten. With your hand free from his grasp seeing as he has resorted to pleaing prayers, you move to roll over him to get off the bed. 

“No, you can’t!” he reacts quickly, grabbing both your wrists and pulling them to his chest, keeping you pulled taut against him. “You can’t go, I haven’t told you yet.”

“So spit it out,” you whine. 

“Fine,” he huffs with a played up annoyance. He rolls his eyes and you purse your lips in disbelief. Disbelief for the moment, disbelief for the mood he's in. 

“Just sit here, and I’ll tell you, okay?” he smirks, dropping his grasp on your wrists but quickly grabbing your legs, pulling at you until your knees bracket his hips and you’re straddling him. You don't resist, figuring that if it truly is something you hate, you'll have the extra leverage to throw yourself off the bed and book it out of his room. 

Shooting him a quick warning look, he finally gets to telling you his oh-so-anticipated thought. 

“So,” he begins. “You know when I’m eating you out?”

Blinking your eyes slowly, you resist throwing yourself off the bed already. Definitely not the direction you thought this was going in.

Eddie smiles up at you, waiting for your answer. 

“Yes, I think I’m quite familiar with that, thank you,” you respond, keeping your voice purposefully flat. 

“Well, you know when I’m eating you out and I’m just doing such a good job that you can’t stay still?”

“Eddie,” you laugh. He raises his brows, awaiting your answer yet again to continue. “Yes. Yes, I am also quite familiar with that.”

“And when you can’t stay still, I hold your hips?”

“Eddie, I swear to god you better spit it out,” you huff, trying to hold back your laugh as you smack a flat palm to his chest again. He grins at you, eyes excited and filled with amusement. 

“So, I’m eating you out, holding your hips, and then you’re still squirming around everywhere so I’m like, wrestling you?”

“You’re not wrestling me,” you laugh.

“But I am,” he smiles, raising a brow at you. 

“You’re not… you’re just holding me,” you offer abashedly. He shakes his head with verve, and you nod your own head contradictingly. With a small wave of his hand, he continues. 

“Well, just wait for the next part,” he smiles. “So I’m wrestling you, and then your legs start closing around my head—”

“Okay.” you interrupt. “I think that’s enough,” you say, feeling your cheeks start to heat up from his brashness. Obviously you know how the whole event goes, you don't need him to break it down for you in a play by play. 

“No, I’m finally getting to it!” he laughs, hands squeezing at your hips. 

You flash him a forced annoyed glare, prompting him to continue with a lift of your brows. He dips his head in a nod, smirking, and he finally delivers his punchline, words dripped in glee and an air of proudness. 

“Whenever your legs start squeezing my head, sometimes I pretend I’m holding open the jaws of an alligator.”

“What?” you scoff, eyes narrowing in confusion. Surely you heard him wrong. 

“It’s true,” he nods matter-of-factly. “I imagine a big ol’ alligator trying to clamp my head in it’s jaw, and I’m fighting for my life, trying to hold its mouth open,” he repeats, holding his arms out wide, energetically miming the struggle of keeping an alligator's jaw open. 

So you didn't hear him wrong?

That’s what he’s thinking about when he’s giving you head? 

Mortifying. Shocking. Not surprising— it is Eddie after all. 

He finds your right hand, laying it down flat to his chest, pressing it firmly with both his hands overtop of it. Grounding you to him— nope— making sure you don’t leave is more like it.

“You’re strong, you know that?” he says with wide eyes. “You prance around here, needing me to open jars, and carry your bags, but I swear to god you’re stronger than me. Super-strength,” he says with a wiggle of his brows. 

“You… you are so…” You’re at a loss of words. All you can do is shake your head, and feel your mouth go dry as you stare at him, astonished that this is what he decided to tell you. Never in a million years would you have guessed that’s what he’s thinking.

He opens his mouth and it only gets worse. “Sometimes I pretend it’s a bear trap too,” he adds.

“Stop.”

“Or it’s like Excalibur. You know Excalibur don't you? Its like I’m King Arthur and keeping your legs open is like I’m pulling the sword from the stone—”

“Stop,” you say with a more bewildered urgency, pressing your palm to his mouth. You feel his lips curl into a smile, crows feet deepening as he looks at you, eyes squinting with his amusement. 

He mumbles something under your hand but you can’t make it out— you don’t want to make it out. 

“Weird. You’re weird. You’re so weird.” you finally spit out through your shock. He licks your palm and you pull away with a repulsed squeal, wiping the dampness onto his shirt. 

“I make you cum, don’t I?” he asks, smug as ever. 

“But why are you thinking of that while you’re doing it?” you ask, riddled with mystified shock. 

“I don’t know… just kind of thought of it one day and went with it,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of good though– distracts me from blowing my load before I’ve even got it in.”

With heavy blinks, you give yourself a minute to absorb what he’s just told you. Closing your gaping mouth, you swallow back your bafflement. This was supposed to be a relaxing night– not Eddie baring his weird soul night. 

“Well… you were right, I hate it.”

“You love it,” he grins. 

“Hate it,” you emphasize. 

“Oh, but you love me, don’t you?” he retorts with his un-wipeable grin.

“We’re getting divorced.”

“Is this you saying you wanna get married? ‘cause we gotta get married first if you want a divorce,” he smirks, grabbing at your sides, tickling you. Taking his hands in your grasp, you stop him before he can really get started with the tickling, pushing his hands away and returning them to his chest with your so-called ‘super-strength’.

“I’m giving you two choices Munson– you take me home right now, or we stop talking about this,” you say with the best sternness you can muster. Oh to be reading your book peacefully, cuddling in the quietness of the room that was once promised to you. 

He doesn't like your ultimatum, you can tell right away with the way his face drops. 

“But you were gonna stay the night,” he pouts, purposefully over-jetting out his lower lip.

“Yeah and I want to stay the night,” you respond, tilting your head at him. 

“So stay the night,” he nearly whines. Like a punishment, you let him sit in his pout for an extra moment. You could hope that he's thinking over where this all went wrong, but you know he's not. Under all that pout he's still smug as hell, it's in his nature. 

“Are you going to keep talking about your weirdo imagination?” you finally break the silence.

“I thought you liked my imagination?” he says, lower lip pushing out even further, trembling slightly as he continues his overdramatic pouting, his eyes round with an innocence that he could never possess.  

“I do,” you promise. “But not when it’s working overtime while you're going down on me. I’m not an alligator or a bear trap… or some magical sword and stone— Eddie literally who thinks of that?” you can’t help but smile, shaking your head with a regrettable mirth. 

“See, I’m funny. You’re laughing.” Smug.

“You’re weird.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Later that night…

His tongue flits back and forth, sending shock waves of pleasure through your system. 

“You like that?” he hums against you. 

“G-good. Really good,” you reply through huffed breaths. Your stomach tenses, breaths staggering as you feel your impending orgasm approaching. 

You stayed the night, no surprise to you or Eddie. One thing led to another, and hours later, your earlier conversation long forgotten, Eddie was between your thighs, racking pleasure throughout your whole body with his tongue on your clit.

His fingers pushed deep inside of you, massage upwards, stroking against your walls, rubbing perfectly at that euphoria inducing spot— you can’t take it, it feels too good, too much. 

Your hands, weaved into his hair, resort to an odd combination of pushing him away and pulling him forward. Running from the pleasure but chasing it at the same time. 

His lips seal over your clit, sucking, mimicking the throb that trembles through your body. You go ridgid, sliding over your tipping point. Your legs tense, closing inwards as your body gives in to instinct, not having a single thought in your brain at the moment. Every muscle tenses harshly before your spasm begins, limbs shaking and moving all at their own accord.

Hips stuttering, jolting back and forth with your release, a heavy hand closes around your thigh, pinning it to the bed.

“The alligator! She’s back,” Eddie exclaims but you have less than a microbe of steady consciousness to parse his words properly. His fingers continue wiggling inside of you, thumb moving itself to your clit as he continues busying his mouth with his ramblings that you’re too foggy headed to understand. You think for a moment there might have been a pirate impression with an argh, but that can't be right. 

A deep, sputtering inhale, your lungs fill, clearing your lust filled brain. His movements slow, and your body relaxes little by little, melding into the mattress until you’re just a puddle of a person. 

“And that’s another win for me,” Eddie announces smugly.

“Hm?” you hum, still in a daze.

“I defeated the alligator— yet again.” he says boisterously.

You blink your eyes open to see Eddie smirking from cheek to arousal glistening cheek. At first, what he said doesn’t make sense, but then it all clicks.

An absolute loss of words. You’ve never been so dumbfounded to not have a single word— not even earlier when he first brought up his colorful, unusual thoughts. Never. 

Eddie recognizes this because he lets himself fall to your side, pulling you into him, maneuvering you like a rag doll until you're halfways on his chest, face to face, wrapping his arm around your waist.  

“You know I’m funny,” he teases, stealing a kiss from you. He pulls back, looking beyond pleased with himself. “You love me,” he sings with a cheesy grin, pressing another kiss to your lips.

Full of mortification and disconcertment, your love for him is undeniable. You love him through and through, and unfortunately that includes his inopportune imagination. 

“I’m in love with an absolute weirdo,” you confess. 

──────────── ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

ty for reading!

[driaswrld]

i'm just — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.6k

summary : (fem!reader) satoru gets lost in his head way too early in the morning, you and suguru ease his worries with one simple question.

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : honestly this is before megs and tsumiki, just when the trio is figuring out their futures and i wanna show rlly how complex satoru's feelings are but from the pov of the ppl who love him. bcus let's bfr suguru and reader would live in a cardboard box under a bridge with satoru if it meant the three of them would be happy.

other : mentions of hickeys/lovebites ig? poly satosugu x reader but labels haven't really been defined so do with that as you may. and yes this is totally reader n suguru telling satoru that hes kenough!

current casette : i'm just ken - barbie, the album

You wake to a weight pressed against your left arm, blood rushing to your fingertips. A soft gust of summer air blows the thin blue curtains to the side, just as the morning sun peeks out from beyond the railing of the balcony. It’s hot.

It’s not just hot. The apartment is quiet.

Not often is it this quiet.

Wiggling your legs beneath the covers, you roll onto your left side, and the first thing you see makes your heart do a somersault.

Suguru, with his head pressed against your arm, his chin snug in the inside of your elbow. You don’t want to wake him — really, when was the last time any of you got a full night’s sleep let alone the privilege of sleeping in during the day?

One of your legs hike over the thigh Suguru has slotted between your own thighs, and there’s a sliver of movement beneath his eyelids. You freeze.

There’s a shift in his breathing pattern, like he’s about to wake up, and instead of moving your leg more, the arm he’s laying on moves around him to the back of his neck, pulling him closer and into your chest.

In his sleep, he mumbles something inaudible.

You still talk in your sleep after so long, Suguru?You think, but you swallow it with a smile.

Strands of jet black swallow your chest like a blanket. Silently, you card Suguru’s hair between your fingertips. Halfway down, the length of your thumb hooks on a broken hair tie, and you pull it out, a few darkened knots coming with it.

Graciously, you discard it on the empty side of the bed next to you. Satoru's side.

The pillow is cold.

Back then, you would slide out of Suguru’s hold and saunter off to find Satoru, drag him back to bed maybe. But now, you’re old enough to know he can never stay away too long.

No sappy stuff! Satoru just gets major FOMO when you and Suguru cuddle without him, that’s all!

His words, not yours.

The sunlight beaming in from the open balcony door warms your skin, heating the curve of your jaw, the flesh of your cheeks buzzing with warmth. You look down at Suguru, wondering if you should close the curtains before the light bothers him—

He’s like a baby, just laying there on your chest.

From here you can see the edge of his shoulder, a soft red mark blooming on his bare skin. Was that you? No, you don’t remember doing that. Maybe it was Satoru.

Maybe it was the both of you. You can never tell.

Suguru shifts, nuzzling his head into you, tip of his nose in between your breasts, and you wonder if he can even breathe like that.

He babbles something mindlessly, and his arms snake around your waist, pressing his weight firmly on top of you. Curious, you move a tuft of hair out of his face.

His eyes form soft slits, moisture tickling the edge of his dark lashes from sleep, his lips parted slightly with soft breaths. He’s beautiful like this.

“...Did I wake you?” A whisper comes from across the room, and you turn your attention from Suguru to where Satoru is leaning against the doorframe, shirtless and eyes heavy with sleep.

Carefully, you check on Suguru before you glance back at Satoru. “No, you’re fine…” You whisper back, hyper aware of your volume. “I got warm, is all.” The last thing you want to do is wake Suguru, and Satoru gets the idea quick as he steps over to the end of the bed.

“Warm?” Satoru repeats, rubbing a fist over his eyes, before he glances over at the open balcony doors adjacent to the bed, the baby blue curtains swaying softly with the little wind. And it clicks in his brain. “Yeah, the thermostat is still busted — I tried fixing it,” he murmurs, taking a seat at the edge of the bed, back turned to you. “I’ll just call someone to get it fixed later.”

Suguru stirs atop your chest, and you pat the top of his head, coaxing him to sleep more.

“Do we even have the money to get it fixed anyway?” You ask, soft.

Sometimes, the three of you tend to forget you’re just kids. Fresh out of highschool and starting from scratch — desperately trying to make something of your own. “I can ask Nanami to look at it tomorrow—”

“I don’t want you to ask Nanami, though.” Satoru cuts you off, and you breathe a sigh.

“Don’t be prideful, ‘toru. It’s just a thermostat.”

Satoru feels a foreign feeling bubble in him. Rather, not foreign, but a variation of the same feeling he’s been feeling these past days.

Ever since he decided to put his inheritance from the Gojo clan on hold, so the three of you could do this on your own. Ever since Suguru started taking extra missions to help with rent. Ever since you started taking half of Nanami’s overtime shifts — is pride the name of the heat bubbling inside him? Or is it disappointment?

“It’s more than the thermostat, name.” He whispers, looking over his shoulder for all but a mere second, waiting for Suguru to stir again. But he doesn’t.

He can’t run to Suguru to stall this conversation. “It’s the bathroom sink—”

“Suguru tied a bandana around the bottom of the faucet, it’ll stop the dripping until we can—”

“No.” He shakes his head, shifting to fold one leg under him as he finally turns to look at you. “It’s the whole apartment, it’s the late shifts — it’s all the things I can’t do.” Satoru’s voice cracks an octave higher than it should.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Suguru’s body rolls to the side and you take advantage of this to slowly start sliding up against the headboard.

“All the things I can’t give you two.” Satoru whispers, mostly to himself than to you.

Suguru sleepily stretches his arm to you, his fist curling around the hem of your shirt just as your back leans against the wood of the headboard. “I never asked for anything though… I doubt Suguru has either.” You reply in a mumble.

You’re right. Satoru knows that. But why would you and Suguru ever need to ask him for anything?

It’s what he’s supposed to do. That’s what love is. He’s supposed to want to give you two the best. He’s supposed to do all the heavy lifting — he’s the strongest. He's supposed to take care of the both of you.

“You’re stupid if you think we care about all that.” Suguru’s voice cuts through the air, hoarse from sleep but thick with something other than sleep — conviction, pride.

Pride in Satoru. Pride in you. “Who cares about the thermostat? Who cares about the sink?” His head lifts only a few centimeters away from your chest, his eyes still closed but his voice showing no signs of slumber at all. “I could drown in the bathroom tonight for all I care.”

You smile a little. And Satoru looks over at you two, albeit a little incredulously.

Why are you looking at him and smiling like that?

Why is Suguru so unbothered?

Satoru tries to wrap his head around it but for the life of him he can’t.

“What the hell is wrong with you two…” Satoru mumbles beneath his breath, turning his body completely, both legs crossed as he sits on the bed. “This isn’t— this isn’t what we wanted…”

The three of you wanted peace. A life full of shenanigans and sporadic missions. A life where you’d worry about nothing, do nothing but feel everything.

Satoru can’t help but burn inside at the way you two don’t even realize you’ve gotten the short end of the stick with this life. This life with him—

“name.” Suguru mumbles into your chest, just as he raises his head to your eye level, the first time he’s opened his eyes since morning. And yet, there’s a softness in them you’ve never seen before. “Are you happy?” Suguru asks, simply, straightforward.

In your mind, you think of a million different ways to answer the question, a million different ways to break down and explain and talk and talk and talk about how you feel but ultimately it all leads back to—

“One word, yes or no.” Suguru tilts his head, looking up at you expectantly yet prepared. Like he already knows what you’ll say before you think it.

“Are you happy?” He asks again and Satoru strains his gaze to the bedsheets, waiting for an answer he thinks he doesn’t want to hear. Because how? How can you be happy?

“Yes.” The answer leaves your mouth with a fluidity, like it came out absentmindedly, without needing any thought. And Satoru is about to say something like about it not being so easy or Suguru’s question being dumb and vague, but—

“Now, Suguru, are you happy?” Suguru mimics Satoru’s voice, dramatically raising his pitch a few tones, even going as far to open his eyes wide — like he’s got six eyes to spare. “Oh, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been—!” Suguru raises his arms in an over the top gesture and you can’t help but laugh.

You look over to Satoru, and he’s looking at you and Suguru like he’s seeing something he’s never seen before.

And the knot twisting inside of him loosens. Just enough for him to have to force himself to bite back a chuckle. I don't even talk like that, he wants to say.

“Are you happy, Satoru?” You ask, and he stills for a moment. And now he thinks he understands Suguru’s dumb not so easy but extremely vague question.

He’s never not been happy when he’s with you two. It shouldn’t even be a question.

“I’m never… not happy…” He whispers, his shoulders slouching forwards. “But it’s not—”

You cut him off with a grin. “One word.”

Suguru laughs. “Yes or no?”

Satoru sits a little straighter, and he feels like he can breathe easier.

“Yes. It’s always yes with you two.”

[woofwof21]

COZY NIGHTS/CHRIS STURN

hii this feels so weird and it's like my first time here on tumblr so yeah im sweating LMFAO

anyway uhm i hope im not as bad as i think i guess?

warnings?: fluff, hinting at nsfw stuff, got dressed infront of her but nothing more, use of y/n ig

already eight minutes past midnight on a saturday night and im sitting on my boyfriend's soft comforter, his big white pillows supporting my back as my eyes follow haley dunphy's steps into the kitchen on the screen of my phone. the faint noises of water hitting skin and shower floor is to hear through the door of the connected bathroom along with occasional soft, deep throated hums of chris' to some melody in his head aswell as my amused giggles everytime a good joke landed in my series.

after some time the water had stopped and eventually he comes out of the bathroom with a warm grin, already happy to see my face again.

"heyy baby", he whispers to me with a slight rasp in his voice as he leans down to press a kiss on my temple. i shoot him a quick smile before just turning back to my phone, my pastel pink earbuds muffling his words for me not to even notice them.

chris takes his steps over to his closet, letting the white towel fall to the floor in order for him to pull his soft sweatpants over his legs.

"i already told you like a gazillion times, babe, you don't need to use your cute little earbuds when you're in my room!", he retorts with a faint smirk, a little louder this time in order for me to hear, while quickly slipping through the holes of one of his black t-shirts.

i glance back over to him, taking one of them out of my ears as a huge grin forms on my lips, building up to a chuckle. "i like wearing them!! get's the sound closer to my brain!", i explain in defense for myself as another chuckle escapes my lips.

he just continues to grin at me. that cute but also sooo slutty grin, showing all his teeth. one side lifted up wider than the other, making my heart melt and my thighs tighten all at once.

chris walks back over to me, climbing onto his bed right next to me and immediately sliding his arm over my shoulders to pull my closer to his chest and press a kiss onto my temple once again.

he leans his forehead against mine, his lips close to my ear for him to whisper while his thumb rubs circles on my bare shoulder "i also remember telling you to just use my tv if you wanna watch stuff. don't want your pretty little eyes turn into big squares, hmm princess?"

the smirk returns back on his lips as he watches my cheeks turn a shade pinker at his soothing tone and silly partially unaware flirtyness. the furthest i respond is with a loving smile, which he quickly returns as his smirk softens up into a huge grin.

he squeezes me tightly to him, chest against chest, and lays me fully down onto the mattress while growling

"rrrghhh you're so cute baby!"

i stare into his lovestruck eyes, giggling a bit shyly at his affection towards me before just blankly staring.

chris stares back at her for only a few seconds before leaning down to press lots of loving little kisses on my soft cheek causing me to scrunch my face up a little, my eyes squeezing shut while more and more quiet laughs escape my throat.

"okay! okay! stop it chris! stop it!", i exclaim amused while my hands put pressure onto his chest to try and get him to back off.

he does as told and leans away, still gazing into my eyes with his fully blown out pupils and that stupid grin he couldn't hide whenever he was around me "sorry y/n, just really missed you", he mumbles while his fingers graze my forehead when brushing some strands of my hair out of my face.

"in the shower?", i retort with a laugh at his silly affectionate self towards me.

chris can't hold back the faint blush that paints his cheeks from the slight embarrassment i caused him but he brushes it off with a cheeky smirk as he leans back forward towards me and mumbles in a flirtitious tone "you better join next time" before pressing his soft, deep pink lips onto mine.

EEEK i hope no one sees this actually fuck off 🤗

[cyberm4n]

May I request a bit of Lucifer with a plus sized reader who has a breeding kink? 💕

thank you so much for this request anon it has plagued my brain /pos as someone who's midsized and VERY gay i think the plus sized ladies need more love in fanfic. i hope you like it, im not 100% happy with the writing but lmk and ill change it up :)

cw: smut, breeding kink (duh), mentions of daddy kink but it's not rly used, reader is described as plus sized could be midsized ig, cum eating?? it's not like DIRECTLY mentioned but it kinda happens??, reader is overstimulated cause lucifer wants to make her a mommy, not proofread well

other: im on vacation and working through some requests so please know your request has been noted! ill probably come out with some more alastor/reader/lucifer sometime in the next couple of days.

■ for starters, i firmly believe that he's the kind of guy to LOVE chubby girls

■ like he loves how soft you are

■ if you're laying in bed with him you better expect for him to be all over you

■ no matter what you wanna wear he thinks it hot. seeing you confident is his biggest turn on and he loves it when you are feeling your best.

■ put on some low rise jeans and that man is on his knees for you

■ safe to say this man is 100% your number 1 supporter and will hype you up no matter what

■ if you're taller than him, literally no issue. like have you seen the height difference between him and lilith?

■ look he's a guy who knows how to handle anyone of any shape/size/gender

■ he's been around since the beginning of humanity this guy knows how to fuck

■ we all know he's a munch

■ i feel like he'd be the kind of guy to be REALLY into thighs

■ like you'd be laying in bed and he'd start kissing down your body, his hands running over your curves

■ paying special attention to your lower belly before moving to your thighs

■ he likes going down on you but if you at all want to ride his face he's 100% in

■ i feel like if you hadn't asked he'd definitely have suggested it before

■ the kind of guy to like pull you down on his face

■ he wants you to SIT dammit

■ the breeding kink tho.

■ i feel like he'd already have a daddy kink but the breeding kink just adds to it yk

■ he thinks you look absolutely divine when his cum is leaking out of you

■ but on days he's particularly feeling the breeding kink, he 100% shoving his fingers in you after he pulls out.

■ gotta make sure you stay full

■ he can't help it he just loves you so much he wants to see you swollen with his child :(

"darling just one more for me please" he breathes out, sweat dripping down his body as he tries to coax another orgasm out of you.

he had been feeling in a bit of a mood tonight, and when you came into his office with those shorts of yours on he couldn't think about anything other than breeding you.

so here we are, laid out on his desk, and him hovering over you. your legs ache from trembling so hard, and every orgasm makes you practically blind from how long he'd been going at it. his cum leaks out of your hole, he'd been dumping load after load in you, and now he's shaking too.

he's gotta fill you up though, he'd love nothing more than you carrying his love. he feels that pit is his stomach tighten, and he gently rubs your clit. "gonna be such a good mommy," he'd coo, feeling you turn to putty in his arms.

when the time comes and he crashes over his orgasm, spilling deep in you once more, he's careful to stay locked in for a little while, but he's peppering your face with kisses.

"you did such a good job ducky" he murmurs, rubbing soft circles on your hips. until he'd pull back just a little to watch his cum leak out of you again, utterly spent.

when he finally completely pulls out its not long until his fingers make their way in you, "shh baby i know, but i gotta make sure it takes" he'd whisper to you as you squirm away from him.

he tsks a little shortly after, his fingers slowly withdrawing. he plunges thumb into your mouth, "suck" he says firmly, which you do, of course. cleaning off his fingers so good for him.

he pulls his hand back, it returns to your side, and you whine as you feel his fat tip press against your hole again, and he coos down at you, folding your legs up to your knees. "cmon missy, we can go one more time right? you can go again sweetheart" he says as he eases his cock into you again.

safe to say, he's dumping loads of his cum in you until he's shooting blanks.

[blueberrybeomgyu]

୨⎯ "pretty mess" ⎯୧ (mjh)

+*:🍪:*﹤descrip. : making jh a pretty mess ♡

+*:🐨:*﹤content : smut, sub!jaehyun, dom!reader

+*:🫐:*﹤warnings : 18+, cockrings, reader calls jh baby, sweetie pie, baby boy, and sweet boy, jh maybe slips into subspace here but im not really sure i didnt write it out, ig you could call this edging of sorts, reverse cowgirl but only for a wee bit

+*:🤍:*﹤word count: 1.2K

+*:🍞:*﹤a/n: this probably has typos but im not feeling great today so please just ignore those, babies

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Underneath you, Jaehyun mewls desperately, fingers twitching where his hands are laying against the bed sheets. He's physically drained, so tired he can barely move, but he's still so tense, vibrating under you as you bounce up and down his cock. You're facing away from him, using his knees as leverage, because you know if you look at his face, splotchy with tears and nose snotty, you'll give in quicker than you’d like to.

"What's the matter, Jae? Something wrong?" You ask breathlessly, feigning ignorance and working yourself on his cock. Every now and then, his hips twitch weakly, causing the head of his cock to bump into your sweet spot and making you gasp before you recollect yourself.

Jaehyun babbles a mess of incoherent pleas and complaints, and you can barely make out "cum, n-need t-to-- pl-" through his ragged breaths and loud gasps. 

"If you need to cum, why don't you? Go ahead, baby. Just do it." You tease, putting on your most innocent voice through your own shaky sighs and low moans. You're glad he can't see your devious smirk – you've gotta keep the act up, after all. 

You bottom out and roll your hips. Jaehyun starts babbling again, thighs shaking as he weakly thrusts up into your cunt.

It drives him crazy, the feeling of being so close to release but having no way to reach it. He's so frustrated that he's crying, tears trailing down his cheeks and wetting his neck, as well as the pillow he's laying on. 

His head is so fuzzy, and when you tighten around him, he sobs. You're so wet and warm, squishy walls squeezing him just right. He’s pretty sure he's going to explode if he doesn't get to cum soon, and he tells you this, or at least, he tries to–

"Need it, need it, mmfg, 'm gonna die, gonna die, fu– pleas–" He manages to mumble through heavy lips, and everything about him is so heavy, like he's underwater. The room is filled with such dirty, slopping sounds when you and Jaehyun’s hips meet, and he's so overwhelmed, so, so frustrated.

You’ve worked him through so many dry orgasms that his dick actually hurts. He just wants to cum, needs it desperately, but he can't, not with the snug ring you slipped around his cock earlier in the evening. He thinks he's going to have another dry orgasm, and the thought runs cold fear through his body, because he can't do it, he can't take it anymore, it hurts so bad, and he wishes you could read his mind, because his tongue is thick and useless in his mouth, too heavy for him to get it to work.

"Hyunnie?" You call out. By now, you've stopped the hip movement, after calling out to Jaehyun for a couple of minutes and not getting a response. He kind of reacts, whining weakly at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around his shaft. Jaehyun shudders as you pull off of him, slipping his hard length out of your wet cunt, and now he’s cold, and this is somehow worse. Then, you turn around to look at him, and every complaint he has dies on his tongue. Your own hair is a bit messy, lip gloss smudged, and he finds comfort in knowing you’re also affected by this. You’re stunning, and he whines again, quietly, as his cock twitches uselessly.

To you, Jaehyun is just as pretty. His cheeks are such a deep shade of red, and his eyes are barely open, lashes fluttering prettily at you. There's a thin trail of drool running down the side of his mouth. You almost wanna lick it up, feed it back into his mouth for him, but you have at least a little self control left. 

Guilt pricks at you when you take in his state – his body is limp against the bed, chest heaving and lips turned down in displeasure. His penis is nearly throbbing, pulsing against his stomach and leaking precum into his belly button. 

"Sweetie pie, I’m sorry. You must’ve needed me so badly, huh?" You coo, kissing his tear-stained cheeks and running your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Can you give me a color?"

He doesn't respond for a minute, lost in the sea of his mind, and you rub his biceps soothingly to give him time. Once the question finally reaches his ears, he mumbles something weakly.

"What was that?"

"Gree- g-green, c-color's green." You hum at that, looking over his fucked-out state. His eyes unfocus every couple of seconds as he tries to look at you, eyebrows furrowed, and you decide that maybe he’s reached his limit.

"Think you're ready to cum, baby boy?" He shakes his head, or something like that, the movement is aborted halfway through, and his head falls against the pillows again.  

"Can't, can't, n-need-" 

You shush his struggling words and straddle his lap, hovering over his thighs and trailing your hands down his stomach.

"It's okay, I've got you, yeah?" You nod, and Jaehyun tries to nod with you, but it's jerky and awkward. His back arches when you wrap a hand around his member and start stroking it slowly.

"Haaah- ple-- pleas' don make me, hurts so bad." 

You tell him that it's okay, that you won't make him suffer through another dry orgasm. 

Jaehyun’s hips follow you when you start sliding the ring off of his cock, whining about how it's not gonna come off, it's stuck, it’s gonna hurt. You hold his hip down with your free hand, placing a gentle kiss on his tip. His hips twitch, trying to chase the feeling, but your hold is firm. His cock drools precum pathetically, and you spread it along his shaft, using the wetness to slide the ring off with a pop!

Jaehyun lets out a heavy sigh of relief, and his body melts into the bed at the feeling of his penis finally being free. 

"Gonna let you cum now, Myungie. Wanna make a mess for me?" You ask, straddling his hips, and Jaehyun's nodding desperately, aggressively before you even finish your statement. When his tip pushes against your opening, his mouth drops open, and his back lifts off the bed again, arching as you slide him back into you.

You're facing him now, and you regret not doing it sooner, because he's absolutely stunning, face scrunched up in pleasure.

"Mm, you're so good, Hyunnie. You always do so well, my sweet boy." You praise in between your own gasps and moans, grinding Jaehyun's cock right into your sweet spot. Jaehyun’s shaking like a leaf, fingers gripping your hips. His mouth is still open, making no move to hide his loud, desperate whimpers and moans. Spit pools in his mouth and drools down the side of his chin. Sparks dance behind your eyelids, and you kiss Jaehyun's cheek before leaning into his ear.

"Cum for me, baby boy." And he does, almost immediately, eyes rolling back before his lids squeeze shut, and his moans are so high pitched, so helpless and pitiful that the sound helps send you over the edge, buzzing while taking in Jaehyun's ruined appearance.

You fuck him through it, ignoring his cries of how sensitive he is. You grind your cores together until his hips are jerking up into yours again, only pulling off then. 

You clean him up, kiss him, dote on him until his eyes are less spacey and he’s giggling when you tickle his sides. He’s so special, so amazing, deserves the best, and you tell him that until he’s snoring softly against your chest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hey so uhh, it said requests are open so I'm gonna shoot my shot ig. I have this fic idea but I'm a shit writer so here it goes.

Alastor x reader but the concept is that the reader is Alastor's shadow.

Now, hear me out: Alastor is said to be a powerful demon since his manifestation in hell, we know that it takes demons quite some time to accumulate their power before they become overlords.

If "The Radio demon" was an alias was that operated between more that one person, then it would make sense as to why and how he rose to the top very quickly (assuming we ignore the fact he made a deal with someone).

That and Alastor's black appendages and shadows seem out of theme for a demon who's primary power is based on Radio.

As for how they met, it could go two ways. Either with Alastor, a man hungry for power, strikes his first deal with Shadow!Reader to get them to do his bidding. Or Shadow!Reader offering Alastor their services after realizing that he has a lot of potential. Either way, their partnership blooms into a sort of kinship between the two of them.

Do with this concept whatever you want with it, I just wanna get this concept out in the world in the hands of someone much more capable of writing than I am.

Enjoy!

A/N please always shoot your shot. this is such a fun idea,, thank you so much for entrusting it to me. I've decided just to write their meeting for now but may continue it later on. I hope you like it!!

The Thing (Alastor x Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Mention of cannibalism and the Donner party. I think that is it.

Word Count: 1,752

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

There was a secret, one that no one knew, one that would tear the demon realm apart at its edges if anyone found out. The illusive Radio Demon and his shadow were, in fact, just that: the illusive Radio Demon and his shadow.

Y/n was master of the immaterial, shifting forms and shedding skins the way others change their clothes. When Alastor arrived in Hell, they had long since been established as one of the many demons to be aware of.

Rumor runs rampant everywhere but especially in Hell where in controls, combines, and divides. Y/n was just that, a rumor. Never the same face twice, never in the same place twice. No one even knew their name, simply referring to them as the thing or the hunger. They snatched sinner's souls from their grasps and devoured them whole. An urban legend, a ghost story only here, all the ghosts were real.

Alastor was as observant in death as he had been in life, it didn't take him long to catch sight of the shadow. Though he had only been in Hell a few days when it had first appeared, he could tell it had nefarious intent.

The thing was a good actor, almost good enough to fool him. It lay in the reality of his own shadow, following his moves perfectly. However, no one is perfect and every once in a while, there would be a little slip. The first one which had caught Alastor's attention was when he had taken a step forward and it had gone the wrong way, quickly righting itself and following after the mistake.

Alastor pretended not to have noticed, but he remembered. He lay in wait for another such occurrence. It was not until two days later, when his shadow gave him four hands rather than two with no apparent explanation such as an odd angle to the sun or another body near him, that his thesis was confirmed. There was, in fact, something following him.

It stuck like glue to the heels of his shoes. Alastor was quiet, Alastor schemed. He had trapped it in a pure white room which he had fixed lightbulbs in from all sides. When he had turned on the lights, he had turned on them, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly.

The shadow had looked this way and that, searching for a place to hide. When they realized it was no use, they had pulled themselves from the floor into three dimensions and faced him head on.

"Who are you?" Alastor had asked before quickly reevaluating his question, "What are you?"

It moved like liquid in the air, twisting and dissolving at its edges. Bubbles, or what was almost bubbles, what looked like bubbles, rose to the surface of it's body and as they popped, a demon began to take the shadow's place.

"I am everything."

They were many voiced. When they spoke, it sounded like a crowd of people saying the same thing in unison. Alastor stared at the demon, unamused. They were a full person now, about a head shorter than him and seemingly very calm considering he had them trapped. Then again, Alastor had only been in Hell a few weeks by this point, not nearly enough time to work up the sort of reputation he was hoping for.

"Is that a bad pickup line?" Alastor asked, "Am I supposed to ask what you mean and you'll say something like 'I could be everything to you?'"

The demon raised their eyebrows, shaking their head.

"It is the truth."

A tense silence fell between the pair. Alastor broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples in irritation. He hadn't really known what to expect from this endeavor save an event to break up the monotony of his days. The demon was not delivering.

"Yeah, alright."

"Who are you?"

"You've been following me for what, two weeks? And you don't know?"

The demon shrugged.

"I was trying to be polite. It has been a while since I have spoken to anyone."

"Sure. Well," Alastor turned to the door, pulling a skeleton key from his pocket, "this has been interesting. Enjoy eternity alone in a well lit room."

Alastor opened the door. The demon made no move to follow him out of the room, no move to escape. They simply watched him in curiosity, their head tilted slightly to one side. Alastor hesitated, his body blocking the exit and his back towards them. He watched them over his shoulder as a thin black smoke seemed to emanate from the outline of their body.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

An empty threat, barley even a threat to be honest. Alastor stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him. Once he was sure it was locked, he slipped the key back into his pocket. He made to leave, intending to go out on the town in a desperate attempt to find entertainment. Barley two steps forward, and shadows began to pool on the floor before his feet, blocking Alastor's path.

He watched in a mild interest as the demon pulled themselves from the shadows, taking on a different face than they had worn in the room. Now they were broader, taller, stronger. They looked mean.

"I told you."

"Is this what you meant when you said you were everything?"

The demon nodded once. Their wide eyes were unblinking, unchanging, as their form mutated again. A spider demon now with many arms and a lanky figure. Alastor raised his eyebrows.

"So, you let me catch you."

"I was bored. No one ever notices me until it is too late, except you."

"I find that hard to believe. You were easy to spot."

The demon's eyes widened slightly at this, something similar to surprise but halfway to fear.

"Like I said, Alastor the interesting." they mused after a moment.

Alastor bowed his head slightly in recognition of the title.

"I could take your soul, destroy you. Why were you so willing to risk all that? Surely a bit of entertainment can't be worth that much to you."

He was trying to get a gage on the creature, and he knew they could tell. It was a mild threat, one he couldn't follow through on even if he wanted to. Sure, he could maim the creature, cause it great pain, but beyond leaving them formless for a few days tops he was powerless. He knew that, but he didn't know if they did. Either way, the situation would play out to his advantage. It would either give him more information, or the upper hand.

They considered the situation for a moment before answering. Alastor couldn't figure out if it was because of their interest in him, for fear of him, or some third, other undefined motivation. No matter what it was, he didn't care. This was the most engaged he had felt in weeks.

"You aren't an overlord. You can't make a contract."

"And you are?"

"No."

"Too weak?" Alastor teased and the demon glared at him.

"Far from it. I don't like being seen."

"But you're letting me see you."

"I am allowing you to see a face. It is not mine."

Alastor fell silent. He had figured that the demon before him didn't have a true form, or if they did, that it was shadow. Things were becoming curiouser by the second. He was no longer regarding his attempts to trap the demon as a waste of time.

"So, you want power but anonymity. Those things don't go hand in hand."

"I know. You want fame and lack the power. Another unmatched set."

Alastor's ear twitched at that, displeasure running through his veins and clouding his sight. His hand tightened where he held his microphone.

"I have power enough."

"What use is a Radio Demon with nothing to broadcast?"

"Are you suggesting a deal?"

The demon smiled a smile that was too big for the face it wore. Alastor had to admit, they were unsettling. He understood the rumors.

"I've heard of your... reputation shall we say? But if you think I will trust someone who's face I have never even seen, you are dead wrong."

"Was that a joke?" the demon tentatively asked after a moment.

"Not on purpose but I supose so."

The thing seemed to roll the idea over in their mind as their form changed once again, this time becoming a demon with the body of a shark. They seemed not even to notice they were changing as their eyes flicked back to Alastor's.

"You want information. Then you will be open to the idea of a partnership."

"This was your goal all along, a partnership as you put it."

A statement, not a question. The demon smiled, their eyebrows slightly raised.

"Oh, was it now. At least I had an end goal to this little... situation."

Alastor scoffed, looking away. They were right. He had come up with no ideas past capturing the thing that had been following him. He was in the dark. They had everything figured out.

"Show me your real face. Then we can talk."

"Alastor Hartifelt. Died 1933. Louisiana famed radio host and serial killer cut down in his prime by a hunter who mistook him for a deer."

"Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"Not at all."

The demon shifted once again. It took them longer to find form this time, remaining as a black cloud for a few moments before at last settling on an almost human body. They were shorter than he had expected, smaller too and decked out in what seemed to be colonial dress. They held a hand out to him.

"Y/n L/n. Died 1846. Newly wed and member of the Donner party."

"Cannibalism." Alastor mused, gently taking their hand in his.

He had expected them to be cold, immaterial. He had expected his hand to slide right through theirs. Instead, the demon, Y/n, was warm and solid to the touch, just like anyone else. They smiled, mouth full of needles.

"We all take what we are given."

"I suppose."

Y/n dropped his hand and crossed their arms. Despite their stature, they radiated authority and poise. It was almost impressive.

"If you will be the face, I will be the force."

"No soul binding."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. Not an overlord."

Alastor looked them up and down. His smile grew.

"Not an overlord yet."

----

tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0