#he draws feet to pay the bills

[sir-fluffbutts]

being a serial killer don't pay the student loans

but being a furry artist sure does 🙄

[toji-sweetheart]

threesome with the pretty boys suguru & satoru (*^‿^*)

18+ only content - mdni

I've been thinking about this for such a long time and thought why not do it now with this lmaooo also I stopped this at 1.4k because I could've easily made this a 3k thingy lmaoo so maybe a part two?

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + alcohol but no one is under the influence + mmf threesome + satosugu + they're taller than you

"Her?" Satoru whispered in his husband's ear, his tongue flicking out to tease the lobe with a deep chuckle watching as obsidian eyes followed ocean-blue ones to see a group of women in the corner.

Suguru cocked an eyebrow and looked at Satoru. "The woman who is getting married tomorrow?" He asked nodding toward the sign that the white-haired man obviously missed who was intent on the mission to find someone for a wild night of fun.

Satoru's face deflated as he took a swig of his drink sweeping his eyes around the bar, there were a few contenders but when their boyfriend or husband came up it was a no-go until they saw you.

All alone while nursing a drink.

They both watched for a few moments trying to gather intel hoping that no one would bother you, when it was clear you didn't have a man or woman waiting Satoru was the first off his stool.

It was something they both talked about before.

They wanted something new, and fun, and it wasn't that their sex life was boring or anything, it was quite the opposite but lately they've both been wanting to feel and touch a real soft wet cunt, the porn videos nor did the fleshlight they took turns using did its job.

The smell of gyrating bodies wafted around you as you pressed yourself tighter against the bar edge hoping that no one would say anything about why you were alone, after a long day of work all you wanted was one drink before going home to take a bath.

However, it seemed that a few people weren't aware of how they were close to you when you backed up a bit to draw in a deep breath to steady your nerves from how your manager berated you earlier.

It was still fresh in your mind.

Your heels caught a crack in the floor and you were falling before you even knew it and braced yourself to land flat on your ass but instead, you were caught mid-air by a pair of strong arms that steadied you on your feet. "I know it's not hard to fall for me, but you should be more careful next time." A smooth voice came from above you.

Seeing a pair of eyes shining like neon lights inviting you in was stunning, to say the least. "Thank you, the crack in the floor got the best of me and I haven't even really drank my wine." You murmured.

His smile was easy-going and natural as he leaned against the bar. "When I see a pretty woman about to fall it's only the right thing to help her." He replied smoothly with a wink before ordering a drink.

Suguru slid up next to you completing the trio.

"My husband forgets that not everyone falls for him." He teased staring at the other man as your eyes shifted between the both of them while moving your weight on each foot nervously.

The last thing you wanted was to become between spouses and have to deal with that. "Oh, I fell before I even met him, don't worry."

Suguru took a sip from his drink and chuckled. "He does have that effect on people. We noticed that you were alone and wanted to come by and say hi, you looked a bit nervous." He noted with a head tilt as his eyes gazed down at you putting you at ease.

You weren't sure how long the three of you sat there at the bar talking while you sat perched between each man, Suguru was the touchy one, his hand on your knee and Satoru was the chatty one.

They both made you laugh and when they spoke your name it made you melt, and despite not wanting any company tonight you were sure glad they came over and Satoru caught you when he did.

"Work was hell, it always is really. My boss has a stick up her ass about everything and anything, it's annoying but it pays my bills and more, I get to travel the world so I suppose it's not that bad."

They listened intently while sharing silent looks having a private conversation without talking. "Where's the best place you visited?" Suguru asked curious about what your answer was.

"My bed." You replied with a soft giggle.

"How about you come and visit ours?" Satoru piped up with a smile as his hand rested on your other knee causing goosebumps to rise all along your arms and legs which only lit a fire deep in your belly.

Being caught between two sexy-as-sin men was not at the top of your list for tonight but it would be fun to let go and do something you've never thought you would do. "I think I'd like that, Toru."

"A nickname already?" He cooed, his cheeks tinting a cute pale pink as he glanced at Suguru who took your purse and hand as he led you out to their car helping you in the front seat while he took the driver.

Satoru leaned back spreading his long legs and feeling his cock twitch as your sweet perfume filled the cabin, cherries.

The car ride was silent, filled with tension as you wondered for a moment if this was a good idea, going home with two men you just met before but it was something your friends had told you to do.

"Go and get laid! You need a night for you!" They all told you in the breakroom gushing about their own sex stories after getting you to agree with a nod even though you hated the idea at first.

They both set the perfect trap to get you in their bed, with Suguru's soft kisses on your hand and Satoru's smooth teasing you were a puddle of goo even before they got you inside their house.

Pressed between the both of them, Satoru curled his long slender fingers around the bottom hem of your dress before tugging it slowly off your body. "You're so adorable when you look like that," Suguru murmured dipping his head down to press his lips against your ear.

"Like what?" Your voice trembled as you fisted his shirt sighing softly when Satoru trailed his fingers over the curve of your ass while his husband slipped his palm between your legs to cup your pussy.

"Like a lamb caught between two wolves." Suguru purred his mouth coming down to taste yours, his tongue licked into yours with expert strokes that had you weak in the knees as Satoru traced your curves.

Suguru's words made your bones rattle with a deep need to find out what more they can do to help you forget everything you need.

With your dress unzipped and pooled around your ankles, Satoru crouched behind you to nuzzle his face against your ass before biting the lace of your panties to tug them down to join your dress.

Neither man could care less to move from their spot as all three of you tangled together on the floor, both of them still dressed while you sat in Suguru's lap with your legs over his so he could keep them spread for his husband who lapped at your pussy softly.

Satoru wanted to taste you when he first saw you and his curiosity got the best of him with you presented like this in front of his face, it was an opportunity he couldn't turn down and when you moaned his name while watching him with Suguru his cock leaked more.

The front of his boxers was a mess as he splayed you open to kiss each inch of your slick pussy, the clear sap was sweet and Gojo grew drunk on the taste, like a sweet wine that made his head fuzzy.

"How does she taste?" Suguru rasped threading his fingers through his hair to tug him up before kissing him deeply, their tongues tangled together in an erotic show that you got a front seat to.

You whined wanting Satoru to go back down on you, your orgasm wasn't far away, and watching them make out only stoked that fire between your legs. "Please!" You begged looking at them.

Satoru chuckled and nipped his husband's bottom lip before kissing his way down your chest making sure to capture a nipple in his warm mouth until he reached your pussy that ached.

He thrust two fingers inside your silken walls feeling you clench tightly around him when his tongue swirled against the swollen bud that made your thighs tense and shiver. "Right there!" You moaned bucking your hips as Suguru tweaked your nipples.

Your climax hit you like fireworks.

It wasn't one that you gave yourself, instead, it was in the hands of another who knew all the right spots to stroke. Turns out all the videos and scouring the internet weren't for anything.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

[syoddeye]

consequence

price x f!reader | 1069 words nice tags: loser x loser, john price having a sliver of game, but it works a/n: continuation of this shortie. played myself here. 💀

“orange?”

“green.”

“what?”

“sorry, are we not naming colors?”

he's simultaneously wounded and amused that she doesn’t even look up to lash him with her tongue. suppose his attempts are ten a penny—she gets chatted up every day; he’s seen it firsthand.

ever since he tracked her to the shop a little over three weeks ago, he’s become a regular. he goes out of his way to visit and watch her handle interested parties like a professional. from the vantage of his usual table, he pretends to read or scroll on his phone, listening in on how she rebuffs them. his own politeness is rewarded with a gradual drop in her guard.

see, from his observations, he’s deduced what other prospects lack: persistence. something he has in spades.

he moves down the counter with her. it’s always slower in the afternoon, affording the time to talk. her good-for-nothing coworker is on another break.

“your cast.” he gestures. “brand new?”

she fumbles the tamper and bites out a quick, “yep.” 

“no signatures.” her last one—bright blue—was nearly black with names and drawings just yesterday.

“got it this morning before i clocked in.”

“your boss still made you come in after that?”

“yeah, well, some of us have to work—shit.” she drops the tamper and portafilter, both thunking onto the rubber mat at her feet. grounds litter the counter and floor, and her eyelids twitch.

accident prone. unlucky. perhaps both.

john considers jumping the bar. a glance at the staff door says her coworker isn’t rushing to help, but he can’t push the line he’s drawn. in pencil. with a light hand.

after all, it wasn’t too long ago that she was jilted in love. she might as well wear a handle with care label.

she swears, fetches a hand broom and pan, then ducks.

“can i—?” he starts.

“absolutely not.” she snips, alternating tools in her good hand, piling the spilled grounds.

john lets a brief silence stretch, listening to the broom swish and other customers typing on laptops. he leans far enough to cast a shadow over her, and his mind wanders off.

“i didn’t mean to snap. or insinuate you’re, uh, underemployed.”

his focus splinters, his daydreams burst. god help a lech like him. sees a pretty girl on her knees and he’s fifteen years younger. christ. he distracts himself with the mess on the counter.

“takes more than a smart remark to hurt me.”

“yeah? well, watch out for scooters. that’s all it took to hurt me.” she smirks with eyes downcast, sweeping the pile into the pan.

if you’d just popped to the door, love. fessed up. i’d’ve taken care of you.

“mm, you’re resilient though. you got back up.”

she stands, shrugging. “like i said. had to. girl’s gotta eat. bills don’t pay themselves.”

“truer words.” john offers his share of collected grounds and a smile.

she murmurs thanks as she disposes of the coffee and moves to restart his drink until he raises a hand.

“give it a rest.”

“you paid for it.” she squints, disbelieving he’s passing on his coffee. her lips press together, and the small scar from the crash punctuates her uncertainty.

“i want somethin’ else.” his true intentions must bleed through his eyes because the corners of her mouth then pull down. he swiftly adds, “let me sign it.”

she nearly drops everything a second time. “you want to sign it. my cast?” 

“do you have somethin’ else i could sign?” 

her nostrils flare when she’s surprised. embarrassed? it’s cute. he wants to see it again.

“fine. here.” she dumps the pan, sets it aside, and hands him the marker she keeps clipped to her apron.  

he’s careful when he leans closer, concentrating, ignoring the ding of the bell above the cafe’s door. the warmth of her skin seeps through where he holds her arm steady. his chin dips, relishing the strong scent of espresso and how nice and still she’s standing. it’s impulsive, deciding to smudge the line he’d drawn.

she only notices as he writes the last digit next to ‘john’.

“are you—is that your phone number?” 

the bell rings again, and a cluster of voices follow.

“it is.” john confirms with a satisfied grin, glancing at his uniform scrawl. he caps her pen and slides it into the top pocket of her apron. time’s run out with the arrival of the mid-afternoon rush. clockwork. “good chat.” he winks, savors the finer details of her sweet, bewildered expression, and weaves around the small crowd of office workers in for a pick-me-up.

he’s pure confidence on the trip home, imagining what she’ll say when she calls or texts. how he’ll surprise her with his car on the first date. what? why’re you staring like that? how does it look familiar? he cracks himself up, thinking of how he’ll pry a confession out of her, then lean into it. what a coincidence. must be fate, visiting your shop.

his phone remains on the table as he goes about the rest of the day, half-heartedly doing what needs to be done while home. she works until seventeen-hundred, so he doesn’t expect immediacy. it doesn’t stop him from finding excuses to hover nearby or snatching up the device when it pings ten minutes after closing.

>> if this is a plot to get free drinks, i only get one a shift and it’s for me

> It’s a ploy to buy you a drink, if you’d like.

three dots appear and disappear rapidly.

>> i’m not drinking right now >> considering how i got the cast

> then what are your plans for tomorrow?

persistence.

>> supermarket

> Wonderful. Send your address. I’ll pick you up.

>> oh you’re one of those guys >> self invitation type >> you don’t need to come???

> Are you going to carry them yourself?

another round of dots. 

>> good point >> fine, be my muscle

> Gladly. 

she sends her address, which he promptly inputs into a search engine. decent area, expensive rent. clicks his tongue as he clicks through the photos from an old listing. hopefully, the pathetic-looking deadbolt’s been updated.

he suggests a time.

>> works for me

> Good. See you tomorrow. 

>> yeah yeah, night john x

his eyes hitch to the ‘x’, and his chest tightens. he exits the rental site and glances around his flat. yeah, she’ll fit in quite nicely.

[youaintnothinbuta]

“What flavour do you want?” “You.” — austin butler x reader

Summary: At the end of a dinner date, Austin decides he’d rather have you for dessert.

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem!reader

Word count: 1200

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral (f receiving), explicit, mature language. also warning this might be a little bit shit, I wrote this last year and never posted it :,)

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You and Austin sat across from each other, on your date, him observing you as you considered the dessert menu.

“What are you thinking, Aus? We could get ice cream, what flavour do you want? Vanilla? Chocolate?” You asked, not lifting your eyes from the menu.

Austin smiled, it stretched perhaps a little too far as he leaned in to you and mumbled, “You.”

You laughed at his joke, “C’mon, what do you want for dessert?”

“You.” He repeated himself, his hand reaching out under the table to gently tap the inside of your knee.

Oh. OH. He wasn’t joking.

Your heart fluttered a little, realising he’d been sat there, watching you quietly, thinking about all the things he could be doing right now, all the things he wanted to be doing.

“Do you want to go?” You asked, shifting in your chair.

“Very much so.” Austin stood up, going to pay the bill. Coming back to your table, he picked up your coat off the back of your chair and draped it over your shoulders as you stood up.

The pair of you walked out the restaurant graciously, but inside your tummy was on fire, tingling with excitement, knowing what was soon going to unravel between you and him. The whole drive home Austin kept his fingertips pressed into your thigh, gripping onto you for dear life. Austin was starving for you, ready to devour you the second he got a chance. He always gave you good head, he loved it, loved making sure you felt good, but when he got himself worked up the way he had, wanting to eat you the way he did, it was always an extra intense experience.

“Come on, baby, bedroom.” He placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he locked the door after bringing you inside. He didn’t have to tell you twice.

“Sit, Austin.” You pushed him gently towards the edge of the bed. He nodded and took a seat, watching you with hungry eyes. You dropped your coat on the floor and lifted one of your feet up on his knee, asking him to undo the buckle of your heels. He did just that, pushing your foot down and bringing your other one up to do the same.

You stood in front of him, each of his hands finding your thighs, running his fingers up and down the back of them, tickling you slightly.

“Let me at it, darlin’.” He cooed, pulling you closer to him. You smiled, bringing his hand under your dress, to the waistband of your underwear. He pushed them down around your hips and then to the floor, taking his middle finger and pressing into you slowly, before drawing a slit down towards your clit, making you shudder. He paused for a second, shutting his eyes to process how wet you were for him.

He brought his face to your body, gently kissing around your tummy. He placed his hands on your hips, guiding you to lay down. You did just that, he then got comfortable, laying between your legs. He continued his trail of kisses, up and down your inner thighs, all around your pussy, except for the place you needed him most.

“Austin.” You mumble his name, your way of asking him to move on with the teasing. He smiled, placing a final kiss directly on your clit, making you jump slightly.

“Mm, sensitive, baby?” He hummed.

You nodded.

“Good,” he kissed your core once again, “I always get the best orgasms from you like this.”

He wrapped his arms around each of your legs and pulled your body closer to him, resting his hands on your tummy. He collected your arousal on the tip of his tongue as he licked a long stripe up your slit, before letting your own fluid coat your clit, swirling around in slow circles, making your moaning begin. Your hands reached down, tangling your fingers in his blonde curls as you gently gripped and tugged on his hair. Your sudden desperation he takes as a cue that he’s dragged it out long enough, and he encompasses his lips around your clit, gently sucking on it. You let out the most strung-out, desperate moan, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a good look at what he was doing to you.

“I love the way you taste, darlin’.” He looked up at you, gave you a little grin and went back to sucking on your clit, making eye contact with you as often as he could. The visual of him, pleasing you like this, it’s almost enough to push you right over the edge, your arms started to shake with the weight of your body, making you drop back down onto the bed, continuing to whimper and whine as you watch Austin down the length of your body. He stopped sucking for a moment, bringing one of his hands off your stomach and using his thumb to lift the hood of your clit up, giving himself more surface area to suck on.

“Holy fuck, Austin.” You gasped, your pelvis smacking into his nose as your body jolted, your already sensitive clit on fire with the feeling he was giving you. Austin knew your body, knew the signs of your orgasm building. The specific whiny moans, the way you hips couldn’t hold still, the way you pressed up again him to get as much friction as you could, and the way your thighs started trembling.

“Oh, baby.” He mumbled against you.

“Austin, please, I’m so close.” You begged, your hands unable to choose whether they’d rather grip onto the bedsheets or his hair.

“I know, honey, come for me.” He encouraged you, his hands having to press harder and harder on your stomach to hold you still enough to keep his lips in contact with you.

You thrashed around, in his grip, your body unsure of what to do with all the pleasure he was giving you. With a loud cry, you felt that big release, your thighs clenched around his head, your orgasm pulled your hips upwards, lightly smacking Austin in the nose, making him smile as he continued to gently lick the rest of your orgasm out of you.

Once he was sure he’d gotten out of you all he could, he crawled up, laying his body over yours. The weight of his body on yours helped you calm down from your high, and he loved the feeling your body twitching underneath him, the feeling of your heart racing, right up against his.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your lips, then your forehead, “such a good girl for me.”

Still wriggling around under him, you couldn’t manage anything but another moan, making him chuckle.

“That was good, huh, baby?” He smiled, looking down at you.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, your abs clenching against him with another twitch.

“Still coming for me? Oh, darling, that’s it, that’s the way.” He continued to talk you through your orgasm, holding gentle eye contact with you.

With a deep exhale, you finally felt your heart rate begin to return to normal and your muscles relax, “That was crazy, Austin.” You laughed.

He smiled, “told you I could get a good one.”

[ectologia]

I gently request a Dabi fic wherein he's been letting his little sister crash at his place and decides to pimp her out to Shiggy. Please, thank you, your writing is amazing ❤️ ❤️

BUSY EARNIN’

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER + DABI

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, THEMES OF INCEST, SEX-BUYING, HUMILIATION, CREAMPIE, PROFANITY

The recital of your name ushers you downstairs. Your feet tip-toe down the rickety steps while you refrain from gliding your hand along the splintered wood of the bannister.

You bound along until you recognise your big brother, slouched against his patchwork sofa with his knees spread and a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“Hey, you.” The subtle flick and curl of the ashen digits lulls you closer, close enough until you’re able to see the sizeable stacks of green bills piled up and snapped together with tight rubber bands lain across his coffee table.

You shift, curious as you notice the lean figure hunched next to Dabi, counting through another hand full of cash and muttering. He’s frantic as his fingers work on shuffling through the paper, his eyes are an unsettling blood red surrounded by rings of black and flaking skin, while his hair sits nestled beneath the shadow of his hood, only the stormy ice blue of his fringe peeking out.

“What’s all this?” You lilt, pointing a finger at the stacked paper.

Dabi all but hums, parting his lips as a whispy stream of smoke escapes the ruptured seam. “What you owe me.”

You draw back immediately, confused. “What?..”

He laughs, a deep, hoarse chuckle. Lowering the cigarette from his teeth to address you properly. “You heard me kid. You gotta earn your keep, you know? Ain’t shit free in life.”

You splutter, furrowing your brows. “B—but, wait, what do you mean I owe you that?” You gesture to the wads of cash sat waiting atop the wooden surface.

And just like that, the last few pages of money are slapped down onto the table. “That’s all of it, Dabi.” Shigaraki croaks, bobbing his foot up and down in anxious waiting.

Dabi shifts through the bank notes before giving a satisfied tut, settling back into the plush concave of his couch and taking another drag. “Thanks, Shigs. She’s all yours.”

You retreat backwards as his bent form extends into a looming shadow the moment he stands, taking a stride towards you.

“Wait! Dabi, what’s going on?” You squeal the moment your hands are seized, pulling and tugging until you’re bent against the wall at an angle.

He clicks his tongue, crossing an ankle over his leg. “I just told you. You’re paying me back, kid. Eatin’ my food, drinking my water. All that shit. You didn’t think you’d be crashing at my place on my dime, did you?” His chuckle is grim and dark as he pours over your hurt expression. “That’s cute. I’m a nice guy but I ain’t no saint, family’s still gotta’ pay their dues.”

You’re jolted about to Shigaraki’s liking until you’re positioned over the coffee table. A big hand pushes your cheek down into the hard surface while the other handles your hips, raising your ass up into the air. “Dabi! No, please stop! Tell him to stop!”

Your big brother winces at your shrill squeaks, squinting at the gritty nails clawing at your delicate flesh. He snaps his fingers, leaning forward. “Yo, Shiggy. Be careful, yeah? She’s still a virgin so she’s gonna be a lil’ skittish.”

He’s met with a harsh grunt, beady red eyes squinting up at him. “Shut the fuck up, makin’ my dick go soft with all your yappin’. I paid for her, so I’ll fuck her how I want, yeah?”

Your big brother huffs a sigh, sitting back against the cushions as he watches Shigaraki tear at your clothes. Your shirt is scrunched just above the meat of your tits as two hands reach down to tug and twist at your pebbled nipples. He tuts, palming at the doughy flesh. “Fuck, your sister’s kinda hot, man.”

Dabi hums in agreement, taking another puff of his cigarette as he rubs his hard-on through the rough denim of his jeans. “You should see her pussy.”

Shigaraki halts, lifting up to eye his friend. “You’ve seen your sister’s twat?” A broad smile curls onto both pairs of lips as they sneer at each-other. “You’re a freak.” He snickers.

The flimsy pair of panties concealing your pudgy mound are slid down past your ankles. Dabi scoffs as the skimpy garment is tossed at his face with a chuckle, the scent of your pussy encasing him for a split second. “A lil’ trinket for big brother Dabi.” Shigaraki grins.

“Please Dabi! I’ll pay you back! I don’t want him t—”

You’re cut off with a whine. “Awh, you don’t want me?” Shigaraki pouts, squeezing and jiggling your ass-cheeks. “That’s just hurt my feelings, babe. Looks like I’m gonna have to fuck you extra extra hard now.”

You gasp as Shigaraki spits a fat wad of saliva into your asshole, bringing two cold fingers down to smear and spread the sticky substance all the way across your slit. He dips the calloused pads into your folds, searching for the little bundle of nerves that has you twitching. The moment your hips flinch he’s cooing, rubbing harsh lines into your hooded clit. “Oh yeah, get that cunny nice and wet, hm?” Your mouth gapes and your jaw slackens, shuddering upon his abuse. “Yeah? You like me rubbing that clit? Getting your little pussy masturbated? Just like that?”

He chuckles at the small hand grasping his wrist, pleading for some type of relief. He retracts, wiping his soiled fingers into the back of your head before knotting them in between your mussed locks, tugging your neck back in a painful arch.

A flicker of hope ignites once you see your brother lean forward with a smile. You keen, reaching out for him. “Da—”

“Shh..” Before you can finish, a thick cloud of musky smoke cuts you off. He purses his lips into a snide grin as he blows the ash right into your spluttering, teary face.

The two laugh at your blushed cheeks and bloated lips as you cough, whimpering every time Shigaraki rubs at your swollen seed.

“I want you to look at him.” Your chin is held up by a pale hand, angling you to meet the bulging tent in your brother’s pants. “Look at your big brother while I rape you.”

At this you crack, breaking down into a plethora of blubbering cries. Shigaraki seems satisfied with your shell-like expression and takes the opportunity to stretch his fat mushroom-tip through the taught flesh of your pussyhole, sighing out a grunt as he does. “Fuck yeah.” He wastes no time in gathering the reins of your hair, jutting into you from behind with a broad smile. “Oh yeah, take—that—dick—baby—take it!” He punctuates every word with a thrust, pushing and pulling you along as he rides your ass.

Dabi can’t help but slip his vacant hand down the waistband of his boxers, fisting his fat, dribbling cock while he watches you get molested. It turns him the fuck on. He croons, hissing through the thin space of his teeth biting down on his cigarette. “Mm, look at you, getting used like a little piece of rape-meat. Should’ve done this ages ago lil’ sis.”

You’re practically foaming at the mouth, the only way you’re able to stay upright is by the massive hands groping at your titties. Shigaraki snarls and howls behind you like a beast, raping your pussy faster and faster with his sweaty uncut dick until a vision of black begins to seep past your field of view. A pierced brow quirks upwards as Dabi watches your eyes shift to a ghostly white.

Shigaraki growls, slowing his hips to exchange his frantic rutting into pounding your pussy with deep, lethargic, hurtful thrusts, knocking your hips painfully into the edge of the table. Your cries are smeared into the wood, your whole body rocking as your knee is lifted to spread you open further.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your ears twitch at the sound of Shigaraki’s voice. He hunches, slamming a fist down dangerously close to your head as he jutts his dick and balls into your slit at a rapid pace. “Fu—agh!”

The room drops to an eery silence as Shigaraki groans and shivers above you, swaying his hips side to side to ensure he’s pumped your battered womb full of his hot, creamy jizz.

The moment he retreats, your body is dragged along with him until your clenching pussy unhooks itself from his throbbing tip, ropes and ropes of sticky white cum following his retraction.

“Damn. That was good.” Shigaraki huffs, catching his breath while he stands proud and bare above you and Dabi, two hands bent on his hips while his flaccid member hangs lowly between his legs, bobbing and swinging.

“Glad I could help.” Dabi grins, slapping a wad of cash against his palm triumphantly.

[razrbladekiss]

LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

[keanusteddy]

🎸 NEW GIRL AT SCHOOL 🎸 ted logan x reader headcanons

A/N: Trying out something a little different. I’m very nervous to post this, since I’ve only ever done bots before. Hopefully it isn’t total rubbish.

Ted definitely hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on in the classroom before you walked in. He and Bill had been too busy brainstorming new song lyric ideas.

“Who cares about some short dead french dude. We won’t need all this useless information when Wyld Stallyns becomes famous.” Bill had said to Ted, whilst messily scribbling down some lyrics at the back of his history notebook.

Ted had been so focused on his songwriting, that he didn’t even notice you walk into the room. It was only when Mr. Ryan told him and Bill to pay attention, that he looked up to see you.

“Everyone listen up! This is y/n and they will be joining us this year at San Dimas High. I want everyone to make them feel welcome.” Whilst Mr. Ryan introduced you to the classroom, Ted stared at you with his big brown eyes. He looked like a love sick puppy dog.

“I’m in love dude.” Ted shuffled his seat closer to Bill and whispered to him.

When you end up sitting in the seat next to Ted (it was the only seat in class left), he immediately became flustered and nervous. There was no way that he could focus on the lesson now even if he tried.

Throughout the whole lesson, Ted couldn’t help but steal glances in your direction. He also attempted to impress you with his laidback and nonchalant attitude, cracking jokes and giving witty responses during class discussions to catch your attention. However, it seemed that Ted’s antics had not impressed you.

Ever since you joined Ted’s history class, he had been arriving on time to Mr. Ryan’s lessons. Ted didn’t want you to think of him as the class slacker, even though he was already pretty much one.

Ted wants you to think that he’s smart. He’ll sit up a bit straighter in his seat and pay more attention in class. He even takes notes! Mr. Ryan can’t believe his eyes.

Ted may even raise his hand to answer questions and discuss historical events. He’s not correct most of the time but his silly responses sometimes get a smile and a giggle out of you, which makes his day.

Ted still goes back into his own world and daydreams in class (specifically about you). At the back of his notebook, he doodles your name and his together with a big heart around it. Ted is also a good drawer. He’ll draw pictures of you both holding hands.

He always makes sure his notebook is in a secure place. He would die of embarrassment if you ever saw his silly little doodles. Not even Bill knows about them.

Ted becomes incredibly clumsy and awkward around you, constantly tripping over his own two feet whenever you are nearby. Countless times he’s almost bumped into somebody, walked into a trash can and dropped his school books in the hallway.

Ted was harmless but he would low-key act like a stalker. During lunch times he would attempt to discreetly follow you around and he would bring Bill along with him for moral support.

“Dude. You are seriously acting like a total stalker. Just go up and talk to her. Recite her some lyrics!” Bill would always say to Ted, trying to convince him to make a move.

Ted has been observing you so much, that he now knows what you bring to lunch each day and where your favourite spots are to sit and eat.

Ted thinks he’s being sneaky, but a few times you have spotted him hiding behind a tree or a bush. His fluffy hair would always been sticking out.

Both of your lockers are right near each others in the hallway. Ted will peak around from his open locker door and watch as you put your books away or take out books.

One day you spotted him peaking around at you and you gave him a friendly smile. Ted nearly fainted on the spot.

You are now the inspiration for the songs that Ted writes. These songs often talk about your beautiful smile, and bubbly personality. Ted only wishes that one day you could hear it :((

[fan-goddess]

Sugar daddy!aegon x reader au?

Authors note: Yeah sure I’ll definitely try! I kinda adjusted it so it’s still technically sugar daddy!Aegon but with a sort of relationship with it as well… it’s complicated. Also the plot is kinda similar to my onset patience, but we’ll just ignore that…

Taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii, @arcielee, @blue-serendipity,

Warnings: Sugar daddy stuff, allusions to smut, some angsty stuff, some fluffy stuff

The sound of your phones notifications made your heart pick up, and when you read them your face just instantly brightened.

You’d met Aegon on an official sugar baby app a few months ago. He was a little older yes, but he was honestly the nicest person when you’d begun to talk to him, and it helped he was somehow both the cutest and the hottest guy you’ve ever seen.

You hadn’t done anything like being a sugar baby before in your life, but the recent increase in the economy meant your life had gotten ten times harder, in every way that was possible. Soon, the pay you got at your simple job wasn’t cutting it, and the bills were piling up, as well as the worry of paying for your schooling.

One of your coworkers, a darling woman only a few years older who you’d confessed your money issues to, had recommended the app. Claiming she’d used it during her own schooling years and it payed well. All you needed to do was know who was a creep and who was actually a sweetheart.

When you had downloaded it, at first the app had just stayed unopened for weeks. Merely sitting there in your home screen, practically mocking you whenever you went past it. The bright pink colour of the icon effortlessly drawing your attention to it every time. You only opened it by accident, only after you went to go into your camera app to take some random picture, and yet when you realised you were looking at the log in screen for the app, you just couldn’t find yourself closing the app. Instead, you took a deep breath while staring at the screen, and filled out the necessary information with nervous breaths.

It’d been a couple days before you received your very first message. An ordinary looking guy at first glance, who according to his profile was in his forties and worked in a high position in a kind of security firm. Though when you opened the message, you found no helloes no asking how your day was. Instead, his first message was him just wanting to know if you would be interested in sending him some feet pics. To be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever blocked anyone faster than what you did then. Still, you didn’t get any more notifications from the app for a while, and even though you didn’t necessarily want the app in the first place, you must admit that your self esteem certainly went a little down hill.

However, a couple more weeks had passed when you woke up with a message request saying someone was interested, and when you looked at his profile, you honestly felt your cheeks become deep red with blush. He had a silvery-blonde hair colour that you’d never seen on anyone before, and his eyes were a gorgeous shade of purple that made them look almost lavender. When you finally stopped gawking at the profile and looked at what he’d sent you, silently praying that it wouldn’t be like the first time, you’d been so relieved to have been greeted with just a simple hello with a matching emoji. It was so simple, and yet you found it so easily adorable as well.

You couldn’t deny that he was attractive, and it wasn’t long till you found yourself answering to him and actually talking to him. Again, you were nervous he’d try and sneak in questions on feet, but the relief hit you hard when no conversations like that even happened. In all honesty, it didn’t even feel like you were talking to a sugar daddy. If felt like you were taking to a friend.

Though that friend bubble needed to be broken, and soon the topic of why the both of you were on the app came up. You’d confessed how you were in money troubles, and Aegon told you about his desire to treat someone with a kind of kindness that he never really received. He said that he liked to feel like he was wanted, even if it was for money, which is all honestly made you quite sad for him, and when you told him your concerns about that he just brushed it off quickly, as if he was used to it.

Though soon, an agreement was made between the two of you. He’d take you out for all these nice things, get to parade you proudly at family events and in return, he’d pay you for your time generously and get to treat you every so often.

One of the guidelines of the app when you first signed up included answering whether you’d be interested in having sexual relations with your sugar daddy, and you’d ticked yes with the image of this gorgeous older man in mind. You were almost tempted to change it after the feet guy, but you were glad you didn’t. Aegon had made it clear he’d never force you to have sex with him, a fact you were grateful of. Yet even so, there was this sort of line between the both of you that every so often kept getting smudged and blurred.

If you could’ve, you probably would’ve blamed Aegon and his stupidly pretty face. The first time it happened, he’d taken you to some high class bar, and of course as Aegon did he bought some very expensive wine. You were never good handling your drink, and Aegons flirtatious words that you usually would just slyly answer back with a smile, became too much for tipsy you as your face began to go warm and flush a deep red as you began to heavily flirt back with a hand on his arm. Sober you the next morning, while you laid in bed naked under the sheets with your legs numb after cumming around five times, couldn’t help but feel an immense pride as the image of Aegons flustered smiles came to memory.

Though soon that line got crossed over again, then again, then again. Until nearly every time Aegon took you out for a meal with his family or some kind of business type of situation, it ended in him driving you home, then fucking you stupid either in the car or in your or his bed.

It was a similar type of deal today, as tonight was a family dinner that Alicent claimed was arranged months ago. However, unbeknownst to her it was also the year anniversary of when you agreed to be Aegons sugar baby, and if the both of you had been able to have your way then there’s no doubt of mind the evening would’ve been spent by ordering food in and putting on a random movie the two of you could make fun of.

After Alicent had called him to remind him, Aegon had made sure to let you know that he wasn’t forcing you to go to this, and that he could most likely handle the evening by himself. But to his surprise, you’d persisted and actually said it’ll be nice to see his relatives. “I swear I’ll pay you like, five times I usually do darling! Fuck I am so lucky to have you!” He exclaimed pecking at your forehead with small kisses in gratitude. You can’t deny the slight twinge in you guy that you felt at the reminder of him paying you, but it didn’t matter to you at that moment. Only Aegon currently mattered.

The piece currently laying on your bed in front of you was something Aegon had suggested. A little thing he joked would help get the both of you through the no doubt soul sucking dinner with his family. It was a basic piece, just a red lace set of a matching bra and panties. Yet when you showed him what they looked like on you in the store, you could see it in his eyes that he was on the very edge of being brought on his knees from the sight alone.

When you put it on and posed with it in front of the mirror just now, you could’ve help but feel slightly excited for what’ll possibly happen later. You pare the piece with a deep blue dress that Aegon always compliments you in, and when you get the text to let you know that he’s waiting for you downstairs, you can’t help the smile and the slight blush from appearing.

As you step out of your building and look around, it’s not hard to spot the near comical looking gold painted car that Aegon had affectionately nicknamed Sunfyre. It’s a ridiculous looking thing to see you have to admit, but it’s such an Aegon car that you can’t help but secretly adore it.

When you get in, Aegon gives a small teasing whistle while he looks you up and down in appreciation. “Fuck baby… gonna make me wanna stay in and have you for dinner…” he grins. “Did you wear the piece?” You choose to not directly answer, and instead you simply pull the sleeve of your dress down slightly to reveal the contrasting red fabric with a cheeky smile. “Good girl” He smiles before placing a possessive hand on your thigh and starting the car before driving in the direction of the restaurant.

When you get two eventually get there, you’re both greeted with Alicents smiling face. It’s sort of funny that Alicent doesn’t know how you and Aegon really met, or the real contact of the two of yous relationship. If she ever did find out how you met, she’d probably lose her mind.

For the rest of the night, you play the part of the loving and doting girlfriend to perfection. You make sure to talk to Helaena about her current affairs, and when Alicent attempts to inquire more about your and Aegons early relationship before he introduced you to them all, you make these stories sound so real that there’s even an almost wistful tone in your voice. You can even see Aegon looking at you out of the corner of your eyes with an almost saddened look, yet still you choose to ignore it and continue on with the night.

By the end, Alicent makes sure to let you know that she loves you, and talks all about how much she looks forward to making you an official daughter of hers. As much as the idea makes your stomach twist, you have to awkwardly laugh it off and move backwards towards the car while Aegon makes quick work of distracting her while she begs for some more grandchildren. When you get in, you turn the radio on to some random station and wait for Aegon to get in and start the car.

“I’ve transferred you the money, you wanna stay at mine or stay at yours?” He asks as he starts the car and drives off.

“I got an early class tomorrow, so mine please Aeg.” You smile, turning to him to speak before looking back out of the window to the scenery.

The rest of the car ride is filled only with the sound of some cheesy pop song playing on the radio, while you attempt to pass the time by variating between looking out the window and scrolling aimlessly on Instagram. You can still see Aegon peeking over at you every so often, and still you just pretend like you don’t see it.

Though when Aegon places a hand on your upper thigh, you can’t deny the warm feeling you feel in your lower belly, and in turn like a reflex you place your own hand on his, and lazily stroke a finger on the warm skin.

It’s late that night, when you find sleep eluding you can’t help yourself from tossing and turning in your bed. A couple times you even find yourself reaching out for Aegons warmth, and feel even more miserable every time when your hand makes contact with the cool sheets.

It’s around half eleven though when there’s a strange knock on the door, and when you answer it in your silk nightgown, you can’t even hide surprise on your face when your eyes make contact with Aegons.

“What are you doing here?” The breathless tone you speak in surprises even you.

“I couldn’t sleep…” Aegon mutters. He’s dressed in casual clothing, but he obviously didn’t dress himself with style as an intention, cause if you weren’t as tired as you were you’d joke he looked like Valyrian Adam Sandler. His eyes are drawn to the floor, and when you look down too you can’t hide the amusement when you realise he’s actually looking at the skin of your legs. “Needed to see you, as I missed you…” You can’t deny the warm feeling in your chest and the small smile you can’t resist when you hear Aegons confession, cause it’s just what you were feeling half an hour ago yourself.

You can’t deny it for both for him and yourself as you step aside and motion for him to come in. Aegon trails in as you shut the door and lock it behind him, and yet he does’t take much time to drag himself to your bed and strip himself down to his underwear and get under the covers.

When you walk back to your bedroom to join him, it’s almost as if it’s automatic when he opens his arms to welcome you in a cuddle, and when you do give in and let his arms surround you in a hug, you can’t help but smile in the comforts of his chest as his body heat seems to completely surround you, and you just get this feeling of safety rushing over you.

When you signed up to the sugar baby app, you never thought you’d meet a guy like Aegon, and as you feel yourself become sleepy with the mixed sound of his light snores and his heartbeat, you honestly don’t think you’d change or willingly drop this agreement for anyone else.

[ivystoryweaver]

Jingle Bells

Summary: Santiago is a flirty cute dork and you can’t stop me

Pairing: Santiago Garcia from Triple Frontier x gn!reader

Word Count: 800

Content: fluff, mentions of Christmas songs (but story doesn’t indicate what Santiago or reader celebrate, if anything), not beta’d

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be $73.07," you mumble to your customer, waiting as she runs her credit card through the machine before handing her a receipt.

Twelve hours on the cash wrap at work, scanning grocery item after item, dealing with faulty coupons, the holiday rush and fussy customers. Your feet are sore and you're dying to get off your shift in thirty minutes.

You picked up back-to-back shifts to pay for a plumbing bill your landlord refused to cover.

"Plumbing is the responsibility of the tenant," he groused at you last week. "Read your lease."

Without even a glance, your hand reaches to scan the next customer's items.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Happy holidays," a soothing tenor voice greets you.

"Happy holida - " You trip over your monotonous reply when your eyes meet the most beautiful man you've ever seen in person.

Sparkling brown eyes dance underneath thick eyebrows, arched in playful curiosity. A sprinkling of gray dusts his dark curly hair.

"Hi," he greets you, chomping playfully on his gum, which draws attention to the curve of luscious, full lips and the sexy stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," you manage, reminding yourself to continue scanning his groceries.

"Afternoon?" He shoots back, nodding toward the darkened windows at the front of the store. "It's 9:15."

"Oh. Right," you sheepishly chuckle.

"Long day?" the handsome man genuinely questions.

Your first instinct is to shrug him off with the run-of-the-mill small talk that comes as naturally as breathing to you, as a cashier.

But something happens - a contradiction that has your heart tripping over itself.

His eyebrows shift curiously, like a puppy, while, at the same time, a smug smirk curls the corner of that mouth.

"Uhh, yes," you admit, pausing, "the longest."

"I'm sorry," he sincerely returns, reaching to swipe his next grocery item for you. "Must be busy this time of year."

"Oh, god...sorry," you stammer, reaching to finish up his order.

"'S okay," he shrugs one shoulder. "You gonna be able to get out of here soon?"

"Not soon enough," you joke. "If I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Hmm," he nods and then he sings, "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleeeiigghh..."

"Nooo, please stop," you find yourself laughing. Out loud. When was the last time you laughed?

"Are you sure? Because I do all the hits. Siiiilent niiiight - "

"Oh my god," you giggle, "you have a terrible voice."

He pretends to be offended, "Is this how you treat all your customers?" The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle with amusement, letting you know he's still teasing. "Because if you smile at everybody like that, you must be the best cashier in this place."

"Could you hurry it up?" A grouchy customer behind this gorgeous man interjects, almost bouncing on her toes.

And just like that, you're deflated. This is why you don't waste your time caring. No point, no time to truly connect. Everyone is in such a damn hurry, especially this time of year.

"Sorry," you mumble, flustered as you start to bag the man's groceries.

"Hi, I'm Santiago," he greets the grinch behind him. "And this is... " he glances back at you, reading off your name tag. "Been a long day. Just trying make 'em smile. I'll get out of your way."

He flashes a stunning, yet disarming smile and the woman falters.

"Oh. I-it's okay."

"Thanks," he nods, shifting his attention back to you.

You give him the total. “Hang in there,” he winks. “Bet this place would fall apart without you.”

He leaves you stupefied, but smiling.

You can’t even remember the last time someone showed kindness and warmth to you, a simple cashier - let alone made you laugh.

The remaining 27 minutes of your shift feel a little lighter.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

One week later…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Dashing through the snoooowww…”

Your eyes snap up to find Mr. Handsome next in your checkout line.

“This is gonna get awkward if you don’t remember me.” His dark eyebrows shoot up questioningly.

“Santiago…right?” Your cheeks feel warm as he flashes you that smile.

“Guilty,” he chuckles. “I really am dying to see what happens when ‘Jingle Bells’ pushes you over the edge.”

“Don’t try me,” you laugh, scanning his grocery items. "Nobody wants me to lose control in here."

"Maybe somewhere else then," he cooly suggests, with the cutest eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe a restaurant? Or a bar? We could grab a drink when you get off?"

Your mouth drops open. "That...was..."

"Pretty smooth, right?" He grins. "Yeah, I've found that singing off key holiday songs is the way to go."

You laugh for about the twentieth time since you met Santiago.

And you go for that drink.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

1k/Holiday Celebration Main Post

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[venusmage]

Commission/Life update for 2024

EDIT 9/16/24

As of now I've resolved around 15 commissions since this post was made at the start of June! This is much faster than I was going the past year. They're going well and I thank everyone again who has been so patient and kind. I've gotten nothing but kindness as a response to the wait, even from those who have been waiting for over a year by now. Thank you.

I recently started two new jobs and school again, so I'm a little busy. BUT everyone is (albeit not at a super fast speed) moving up in queue! Once the owed "Full" commissions are done, I expect to get through Sketch Coms even faster and currently I'm at a good pace to be done by the end of the year.

The best days to reach me are Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays at the moment. Otherwise it might take me a day or so to get back to you. I work on my own projects on the weekends to preserve my sanity, lol! Just know if I'm drawing something else, I haven't forgotten my queue!

------

Original post:

Just want everyone to know I AM okay now and life has gotten better recently. However the past year and a half have been extremely difficult and I'm only now getting back on my feet. I generally don't like sharing life details publicly, but as a freelancer with clients that have been waiting for a while I feel like transparency is key.

If you don't want an explanation for the delays and just want to know my completion timeline, that's totally okay. Here is all the info up front. I'm going to continue updating my commission queue as usual and will not be accepting any more orders until ALL of the queue is completed. I'm working on finishing the half and full bodies first since they've been the longest waiting in queue. Then the rest. I don't have a set date in mind for when they'll be all done for good but the goal is by the end of the year. I think that's more than doable for me now. If you're a client of mine and have questions/concerns, please message me either here or on Discord and I'll do my best to help you. My username on discord is the same as my Tumblr username. Twitter and Ko-Fi are also options but I don't check them as frequently. I usually work Monday-Thursday so that will be the best time to shoot me a message or expect an update to the queue.

Information on what's been going on is below.

CW for mentions of death, financial hardship and homophobia.

As a few of you might remember, in 2019 I was disowned by my mother for being a lesbian. I made the choice to go no-contact. Since then, up until LAST YEAR, she's routinely harassed me or had other family harass me, stalked me on social media, tried to get to me through the website I take commission orders, and threatened me multiple times. I was forced to move across the country both because I felt unsafe and because my partner had family elsewhere that were more accepting. I've had to change my phone number twice.

It's been extremely difficult both financially and mentally to keep my head above water. In 2021 my grandfather died and I still haven't felt like I've been able to properly grieve. I wasn't able to see him due to her and I wasn't invited to his funeral. We were very close and he meant the world to me. In 2023 my grandmother passed away very suddenly as well, and my mother used it as an excuse to harass me over ko-fi/my professional email. It was such a horrific experience that I fell into a months long spiral that I only just now feel like I'm climbing out of. This is when commissions first stalled. I was also starting to get overwhelmed, as I had to take on more work than I could realistically handle in order to pay bills and rent. That's really it - I just had to take more orders so we weren't kicked out of our apartment, and as my mental state deteriorated I couldn't keep up.

The good news is that my wife and moved earlier this year we're living with supportive(!) family now and our financial burden is much lighter. This gives me time to work on my backlog without re-opening. I'm also going to school again, back in college starting this summer for a second degree. For my own health after commissions are finished I'm likely going to take a break on opening them for a good while, even though I really enjoy doing them.

In the past two months amazing and not-amazing things have happened. The amazing thing is I got an ADHD diagnosis, something I didn't even know had been ruining my life for years. I'm still getting used to the proper medications but I'm already seeing a big improvement. It's as much of a relief as it is frustrating. My mother also reared her head again (like she usually does at least once a year) - this time, though, I learned she'd had a stroke. While I'm not involved with her anymore, I think most people could understand how it would still be a very weird and upsetting situation. As of right now I'm free of her once again, she seems to be making a good recovery and will hopefully continue to live a happy life far away from me. Still, those two things back to back have been a LOT to deal with on top of just trying to get better in general. I stepped away from the internet for a while for my own sanity.

The downside to being a freelancer is that there's not always a safety net. That's what happened to me. Thank you all very much for being kind and patient, I genuinely have had nothing but polite interactions with all of you and I really appreciate it. I'm sorry my personal bullshit got in the way of getting my work done for you. This is the longest I've ever taken to complete commissions and it's something that I'm deeply ashamed of. I promise they will get done. Being medicated and starting to recover from the family drama has revitalized me a bit. If you have any questions or concerns please reach out.

[666writingcafe]

Quick-Fire Headcanons (12)

Asmo will dance in the car while he’s stuck at a traffic light.

Barbatos gets a thrill out of haggling.

Simeon gets mistaken for an employee wherever he goes; it doesn’t help that he basically enables people’s behavior.

Mammon wants to ride all of the rollercoasters at an amusement park.

Diavolo would spend all of his money on carnival games if Barbatos and Lucifer didn’t stop him.

Lucifer is usually so tired that he doesn’t care if his feet stick out of the covers as he sleeps.

People would assume that Solomon is tone deaf, but he actually has near-perfect pitch.

Levi and Diavolo would make excellent DJs.

A little-known fact about Beel is that he’s really good at beatboxing.

Asmo can turn anything into a musical instrument.

Diavolo has a tendency to celebrate anniversaries on the wrong day, but because he’s the Demon Prince, everyone around him simply moves the date of the original anniversary to whatever day he wants to celebrate it.

When Cerberus was a puppy, Lucifer took lots of pictures of him and showed them to everyone he knew.

Mammon has volunteered to help with someone’s event before, but then turns around and sends them a bill, demanding that they pay him for his service.

Asmo has mailed envelopes full of glitter to his enemies before.

Satan and Simeon both have binders full of essays on why they were right, but only Satan will crack his open to use in an argument.

Mammon and Asmo draw on the chalkboard when the teacher is out of the room.

Barbatos and Lucifer are certified in Devildom first aid training.

Simeon once mowed Purgatory Hall’s yard at 1 am as he was sleepwalking (scaring Luke and Solomon in the process).

Belphie will often leave new rolls of toilet paper on top of the toilet, much to the chagrin of all of his brothers and MC.

Beel cannot have any drinks in Styrofoam cups because he will squeeze the cup so hard that he punctures it and loses his drink.

Simeon and Lucifer still have the default background for both their computer and phone.

Solomon would feed seagulls (and other birds) laxatives.

Luke really likes pancakes, especially the ones that look like cartoon characters.

[enviedear]

nervous neighbor ⟶ ben solo

description ⌙ you're back at home from university, living with your parents for the summer because it's cheaper than trying to pay for an apartment while on a student's salary. but after you meet the new neighbor's son, ben solo, you're not so sure it's worth it.

pairing ⌙ neighbor!ben solo x f!reader

warnings ⌙ inebriated reader & ben, they're smoking weed and being petty together, mean!ben because when do i not make him a bit mean, ben jokingly attempts to solicit reader, reader has a blatant sort of fascination with ben, ben has severe blatant yearning for reader, reader is described to need a belt to wear ben's pants (don't question me it comes up), some high kisses (they're so fun oops), somewhat getting caught, tiny little bitty cliffhanger, ben's personality is totally based off this brent faiyaz song lmao

word count ⌙ 3.5k

— request (frl especially for ben/kylo) | masterlist

i love the idea of neighbor!ben so ofc i had to put my thoughts into a little fic! if anyone is interested... i wouldn't be mad at making this a series. i love neighbor!ben!

the sun is low in the sky, casting a warm and appreciated golden glow on the world around you. you revel in the sanctity of the suburban environment as you step outside your front door. the rays burn into your exposed shoulders, spaghetti straps lightly digging into the skin.

the fragrant scent of freshly cut grass hangs heavy in the air, leaving an earthy flavor in your mouth. you pull at the hem of your shorts, feeling the soft fabric brush against your exposed thighs as you make your way to the black mailbox straight ahead.

you flip through bills and junk mail, all in your parent's name for a minute before you hear the unmistakable rev of a car engine approaching. the engine seems to purr the closer it gets, and you're all too familiar with the sound. you feel glued to your spot as it approaches.

soon enough, ben solo's sleek aston martin swerves into his driveway, coming to a stop just a few feet away from his closed garage door. you watch as he gets out of the car, his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, and meets your gaze with his severe brown eyes.

there’s something about the way he looks at you that causes your heart to race. the sensation is unwanted or, at least, you tell yourself it is.

he looks like he always does; clad in dress pants and a pristine button-up, face etched with subtle haughtiness, and pink lips curved into a deliciously heretical grin. the previous sanctity you felt dissipates as his stare beats down on you, hotter and more all-consuming than the sun above.

"neighbor." he anoints, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "how much allowance are mommy and daddy giving you for checking their mail?"

"very funny," you retort, eyes rolling, "maybe they're drawing from the same funds your parents did when they bought you that ridiculous car."

you liked playing this game with ben. where he attempts to seem as if he's got something over you, some unspoken win. as if you're not both twenty-somethings still living with your parents.

he does have an actual retirement plan type job though, so, perhaps, he has you beat in some areas.

he works full-time, a fact you learned after dinner with your parents and his. brought up by your parents so they could dote on him— effectively buttering up han and leia further. the ass-kissing earned the family privileges to their in-ground pool though.

he's pretty prestigious, unfortunately. ben organa-solo, the youngest associate at his legal firm. he apparently had over forty offers of employment before he ever even looked at the bar exam.

he's doing well, sure— but the sheer fact that he still lives with his parents is enough to quell your nuanced jealousy. somewhat.

"my db-nine can never be called ridiculous. do you know the specs on this car?" he taunts, opting to lean against his aforementioned car.

you begin to turn away from him, not willing to go into a conversation regarding his stupidly expensive automobile. you can feel your ears warming as you try to ignore him, but ben is relentless, as usual, "you know, you really should relax a little, i'm only joking, kid.."

"excuse me?" you snap, fronting him again and crossing your arms defensively, "i am plenty relaxed, solo. thank you very much."

in truth, you haven't been relaxed or even casual since the organa-solo's moved in eight months ago. wealthy and recently retired, leia and han are amusing, charming, and almost constantly travelling.

the pair managed to befriend your parents the second they moved in. bringing over a plate of brownies, the duo easily meshed with your parents, making for countless dinners, conversations, and visits between the two homes.

the opposite can be said for ben and you. when you finally met him, a few weeks after his parents moved in, it was because he was yelling at your dog for 'purposely' pissing on one of his tires. since then, you haven't exactly seen eye to eye.

"mhm, of course," he drawls sarcastically, "that's why you're always so wound up,” he’s smirking now, "you ever thought about smoking a joint or something? might help you chill out."

"really?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow, "that's your solution? drugs?" you choose to ignore his quip about you being tightly wound. as if he's not— you've seen him after work, he always looks tense, shoulders tight. at the recollection of his job title makes you almost comment on his choice of illegal activity, but you stop yourself.

maybe this was his vice after hours of listening to legal jargon?

"i'm just offering a suggestion. i've got pot and an empty house." his voice is biting, holding his hands up defensively, "take it or leave it, kid."

your mind is wrought with confusion over his words. in the few months you’ve known him, you would have never thought he’d be suggesting what he is.

ben solo, who drives an aston martin, only wears button-ups or suits, and is always willing to make you look or feel idiotic, is trying to convince you to smoke pot with him.

you worry for a brief second if you’re deluded.

you would have never suspected the famed judiciary to unwind in such a way.

no, your first guess would have been whiskey, or maybe something a bit more scandalized and indecent. you try to shake that idea out of your head.

"fine," you blurt it out before you can stop yourself, surprising both you and the arrogant figure in front of you.

"seriously?" ben questions, his eyes widening in apprehension. "you're actually going to do it?"

"yeah, solo," you shrug, drawing out the first word, trying to sound more resolved than you feel, "nothing i haven’t done before."

"okay, cheech," he mutters, grinning wickedly, "let me smoke you out."

you follow him into his house, heart pounding in your chest. you're familiar with the layout— almost identical to your own home, only nicer. everything is nicer.

the air inside is cool and smells faintly of lavender, mixed with something decadent you can’t quite place. glancing around the space, you take it all in. it feels different now that you're alone with ben. less homey and more belly of the beast.

there are windows everywhere, letting in an abundance of natural light despite the evident tint. the furniture is modern and obviously hand-picked though comfortable and no doubt, expensive.

you try to make yourself cozy on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. ben disappears for a moment and returns with a tray, a red grinder, a lighter, and a baggie of green herbs.

your hands go clammy as you watch him grind it down. you try to wipe them on your pants, hoping he doesn’t notice.

he doesn’t seem to, instead beginning to roll a joint, packing the herb down with his thumb. his movements, precise and hypnotic. he's defiling all previous conclusions you had of him. he’s sure, magnetic, and undeniably confusing.

“ready?” he asks, holding the rolled paper out to you. you nod, and he lights up the twisted end, inhaling deeply before passing it over to you.

you place the joint to your lips, feeling the warmth of the light spark grazing your fingers. the earthy plant kindles with a soft crackle, and you inhale deeply. smoke fills your lungs, coiling inside you.

the cloudy smoke immediately hits your entire sinus system, choking you on its descent down.

you cough and ben laughs, “shit, take it slow, kid.” he huffs, before handing you a tepid water bottle, no question he figured you'd wind up coughing a lung.

you drink gratefully, feeling the water cleanse your burning throat. you look at ben, who’s watching you intently.

your eyes are watery and slightly hazy, but ben has never look better. eyes red and low, posture easy with one arm behind his head, and faint pink flush.

“what?” you ask, self-conscious. the room seems to swirl around as ben sits beside you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body.

"nothing, neighbor," his stare is mocking, "do you feel relaxed yet?" he asks with a smirk.

you give him a meager thumbs-up, suddenly lightheaded and giggly. your thoughts are wondering to ben's pretty lips, but your mouth remains whetted and silent. adorning thoughts remaining within your capricious mind.

the tension in your body melts away, and you lean back against the couch cushions, letting out a deep sigh. ben's hand brushes against yours to steal the joint away, and you feel the heat of his touch all the way to your toes. it's as if the world has narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else exists.

“are you cold?” he asks, taking a drag, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, leaving his arms on full display.

you look at him, bewildered for a second, and he continues with an eye roll, “you’re shivering.”

looking down at your body, you note that you indeed are. either from the weed or the proximity you have to your novel neighbor.

with a gentle breath, you reply, “i guess.”

he holds the joint with his lips as he stands to look down at you, “c’mon i’ve got blankets in my room.”

you look up at him, unsure of what to say, but find yourself bobbing in agreement. you follow him upstairs, the both of you languid in reaching the destination. when you do finally get to his room, you note the array of muted jewel tones and dim light, different than the rest of the house.

ben keeps his blinds partially closed and curtains that mostly fall in front of them. his bed is huge, pristine white sheets and an inviting navy bedspread.

you watch as he pulls out a thick woolen blanket from his closet and spreads it over your shoulders. you feel the weight of it settle over you, cocooning you in warmth.

"better?" he asks, voice low.

you nod again, feeling the hazy ardor of the drug swimming through your body. everything feels fuzzy, and for the first time you don't feel so out of place with ben.

he takes a seat beside you on his all too comfortable bed, the aroma of his pomelo-scented cologne filling your senses. you discern it's probably dangerous in some way to be alone with ben like this, but you can't seem to bring yourself to care or reason why.

you let yourself peer into his large and expansive open closet. clothes, mostly suits and dress shirts, hang neatly on identical black hangars. he's tidy. the fact feels unmistakable, and you think you should already know just by the way he carries himself.

ben's voice interrupts your absent mind, "anything you like?"

you look back at him, leaning up against the headboard of his bed, joint billowing smoke from its rested position in his fingers. he looks less severe like this, less perfect, more mortal.

you're certain the drug has taken effect now because when you move to get closer to him, it feels as if you're floating.

you take the joint from him, stealing another hit before replying, "you just have a lot of suits. i wonder if you own anything besides them. i've never seen you in anything but."

"is this one of your long-winded jokes?" he briefly closes his eyes, but you can see them roll through his lids, "because if so, i'll kick you out. i won't hesitate to send you back to your house, neighbor."

snorting, you take yet another hit of the joint, "i did see something i liked, actually." you confess, your drugged mind deciding to be just a bit genuine.

he hums, "really? i've never seen you in a suit, or anything formal."

the sentence sounds stupid coming out of ben's mouth, but you chalk it up to his tipsy state, "maybe you will. one day."

your reply sounds equally as dumb, but you feel good, and you're actually having a conversation with ben. one that doesn't involve him undermining you or snickering at what you're saying.

"really? wanna try mine on? for practice." ben is smirking, eyes narrow, searing, and bloodshot.

you give him a ditzy look, joint still dangling from your fingers, "whatever, solo."

ben lets out a genuine giggle at that, and in your inebriated state, you smile at the sound. his dimples are on full display as he leans further into his cushioned headboard, eyes glazed and focused purely at you, "i'll pay, if you do."

his face is gentle, almost winsome, but the words that tumble out of his mouth sound murky— riddled with a slight hint of hunger. for what exactly? you're not sure.

your lips contort into a frown before you reply, "you'll pay me to put on your clothes? god, ben how much did you smoke?"

you mean for your words to come off as a joke, easy and light. instead, it comes out as timid and shy. you'd normally feel a tinge of embarrassment but either the drug or ben's starved stare makes the would-be feeling detach from your mind.

"enough." he shrugs, answering your rhetorical question, "i've got five hundred in my wallet right now," he pauses, leaning over to you and grabbing the joint, fingers brushing against yours, "and i want a show."

your mind seems to blank for a second, leaving you to blink your dry, red eyes in front of him. when the small wave of shock subdues, you reply, "i don't know how to give you a show."

ben shakes his head slightly, his eyes still set on yours, “yeah you do. swear it's not hard, kid.”

“says you,” you giggle, “but i’ll try on your clothes. for the money.”

he breathes in, contented, “for the money.”

without much more thought, you rise from his plush bed and make way for the closet. it's big enough to be another room, a stark contrast from your own closet, and it smells of his citrusy cologne merged with the lavender scent throughout the home. you find it comforting.

you look back over your shoulder, ben's watching you intently from his seated position, "what should i start with, solo?"

he hums before replying, "your pick, neighbor. what's mine is yours."

you can't help the dorky smile that graces your lips at his sentiment, even though you know he's being flippant. you hastily turn away from him, hiding your weak-willed reaction.

taking a deep breath, you begin to rummage through his wardrobe. your fingers brush against the luxurious fabric of his suits before settling on a satin black button-up that looks silky smooth to the touch.

you grab it and turn around to face ben, who's now standing and walking towards you, his eyes fixed on the shirt in your hand.

"that's a good choice," he says, his voice low and husky, "you'll look better in it than i do."

you roll your eyes at his comment but can't help the warmth that shoots through your body at his words. you quickly slip it over your cropped tank, eager to see it on.

as you're buttoning it up, you feel his swarthy eyes on you, watching your every move. you can't help but feel giddy with his ardent gaze and your own euphoric state of mind.

as you finish up the last button, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the ornate mirror hung upon one of the closet walls. you look decadent in his pompous shirt.

the feeling of contentment that washes over you is startling.

it's a beautiful cut of fabric, but it's the way it represents the achieved man behind you that has you stalling. you notice ben's breath hitch as he takes in the sight of you.

"i was right. it looks much better on you." he says, his voice rough.

you grin at him, feeling a newfound confidence wash over you, "is that right, solo?" you question, your demeanor one of leisure.

without warning, ben steps forward, right hand coming to rest on your shoulder as he leans down to you, "here," he says, his breath hot against your ear, "you missed the first button."

his fingers dance at your chest, fastening the skipped button. you fight a smile at the act, keening at his rash action. high ben is certainly less sardonic than sober ben, finding a nice middle ground at graceful teasing.

"you pick the pants, and grab a belt so that they'll fit." you smile.

he hums, pulling away and trifling through his clothes. his nimble fingers card through various pairs of slacks, settling on a matching black pair.

he turns on his heels, facing you. he raises his brows, a silent request for you to take the pants. when you do, his hands begin to fumble with his belt.

your eyebrows scrunch in confusion, "what are you doing?"

"i want you to wear this one. just let me play dress up with you, doll." his black locks are falling into his eyes.

you huff out a weak chuckle, focused on his action and new endearment. when the belts slides away from him, you notice the way his slacks droop slightly.

with a curt and nervous smile, you slide up the dark pants, fitting his belt around your hips afterward.

you study yourself in the mirror, opting to tuck the shirt into the pants messily— an attempt to somewhat display your waist.

ben comes up behind you, hands resting on your shoulders, humming into the top of your head, "i quite like you this way. ever thought about getting an office job for me?"

you give him a sarcastic pout, "for you?"

he smiles, canines showing, "yeah, doll, just for me."

you're dizzy at his words, "yeah, then who'd watch my parent's house all day? it's a full-time job being a stay-at-home daughter, you know."

ben groans a bit at your words, "that makes you sound like a little brat, you know." he drawls out the last two words, mocking.

you smirk, facing him now, lips becoming level with his when he leans down to stare into your eyes, "my mom calls me a brat sometimes. she says i'm never going to find someone acting like one," you pause for a beat, "d'you agree, ben?"

at the emphasis of his first name he sighs and lets his hands fall to your waist, "i agree that you're a fuckin' brat," he cranes his head closer, breath brushing against your lips, "but i don't think i mind very much."

your eyes flutter against your better judgment, and ben takes an evident note of the fact. his hands tighten at your waist, fingers digging in possessively. you feel a beat of caution before it flies away from your resolution. you press forward just as he does the same, lips meeting in a slow, heady, absolutely exalting kiss.

ben's fingers dig into you, timidly pulling you further into him. you crumble at his touch, hands fisting into his hair as he deepens the kiss further. he tastes of sweet honey and sunlight that fills you with warmth and affection.

you're both weakly fighting for more— an incessant craving for each other that quickly overtakes your common sense. the looming man continues to cast an unbreakable spell with each aching kiss as his gentle hands caress every inch of exposed skin on your body.

you let his hands fumble with the buttons of the borrowed shirt, slowly slipping it away from you. it brushes past your shoulders, and ben breaks the hungry kisses to trail sloppy ones on your exposed neck.

you're lost in the feeling of him— all-consuming. neither one of you willing to be pulled back to reality— but eventually you both have to break away from one another with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks. ben looks down at you with an amused grin on his face before planting a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

you hum and he mutters against you, "you like that? hm?"

"duh," you steal a glance up, "feels s'nice." there's a stupid grin stuck to your face.

"you taste so good, doll," he places a teasing kiss at the dip at the bottom of your neck, "and your lips are so fucking soft."

you give him a questioning look, lips upturned, "really? sounds wild coming from the same man that just called me a brat."

he hums darkly, "you being a brat," he places another kiss to your exposed neck, "just makes this little game of ours more interesting," one of his hands lifts your chin, pulling you closer, "c'mere, kid."

his lips are back on yours, less languid and with much more fervor. you feel so full in his arms. divinely entangled in the coveted luxury of ben organa-solo.

suddenly, you hear commotion from downstairs, drugged mind abruptly anxious.

"what's that?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

ben growls, "fuck— i'm sorry doll, i think my parents are home." you catch the faint flush on his cheeks.

you bite your lip, concerned, "but... i'm high. and wearing your clothes."

ben is about to say something else when the deep baritone of han solo's voice booms from behind his closed bedroom door, "come on out, son. the neighbor's are over for dinner. their daughter should be here soon," han's voice drops a bit, "and try to ease up on the flirting this time, okay?"

you stifle an uninhibited giggle, earning a glare from ben.

"yeah, sure. just let me get out of my work clothes," he peers down at you, eyes wicked, "don't want them to think it's all i own."

your eyes widen at his subtle dig, and he seems to revel in your amusement.

han grumbles something back before leaving. your breathing is erratic for a good few seconds. ben's hands remain on you, gentle grin on his lips.

"you heard the man. dinner." his voice is low, and you fight the urge to pull him into another kiss. the thought of more than kissing weighing heavily on your stoned mind.

your reply knocks the smile off of his face, "how are you going to explain the fact i'm already with you and high off my ass?"

he groans, head falling into the crook of your neck, "shit."

[arcane-vagabond]

Hmm yes hello. Can we get an insight from Jake’s POV for when he first met Scout?

Cannot BELIEVE this is the first time this has been requested....

Anyway, this was a little longer than I thought it'd be lol One use of "y/n," but y'all already know it's Scout.

Sweat dripped from Jake's brow despite the coolness offered by the shade of the Hard Deck. He leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the table as he let his head drop back against his shoulders with a tired sigh. Bradley had been a menace the last couple of weeks, something typical for him this time of year. The gang had hardly had a moment's rest between the different robberies they'd committed, and now they had Isaac and his gang after them.

How was Jake supposed to know that girl had been Isaac's? She seemed receptive enough, especially when her hand slid down to his-

Jake jerked, catching himself just in time as his chair nearly fell out from under him. He glanced around, eyes landing on Penny as she glared down at him.

"Keep your feet off my tables, Jacob," she hissed. Jake shot her a scowl, but acquiesced, planting his feet on the hardwood and sucking on his teeth in thought.

"What's got you lookin' so sour?" She asked, wiping down the table where his feet just sat. "You're lookin' so dark, the chickens have come home to roost."

Jake let out a snort, rolling his eyes as he grimaced.

"Bradley's got us in in a mess again," he muttered. Penny hummed, raising an eyebrow.

"From what I've heard, you've got just as much to do with the bind you're in now as he does."

"Wouldn't be in this mess if he'd give it a rest once in a while," he countered.

"Wouldn't be in this mess if you'd keep it in your pants for a change," she fired back. "When are the lot of you going to find some nice girls and settle down, hm? You're not getting any younger."

Jake clicked his tongue, but didn't respond. Instead, he pushed away from the table, dropping a few bills in his place.

"I'll see you later, Penny," he waved, not looking back as he walzed out of the saloon. He let out a huff as the sun beat down, pondering his options on what to do for the rest of the day. He supposed he could go and bother Maverick, but the old man seemed busier than usual these days. He could always go to the brothel, the girls love him there. Of course, he could always go and find Javy and the others.

He turned towards the post where he had secured Whiskey, stopping at the sight before him.

Whiskey was a grumpy, old horse. Really, the only people he ever let near him were Tom, Maverick, and himself, usually offering a nip or a stomp at anyone who ventured too close for the horse's liking. But there you stood, practically cradling Whiskey's large head in your arms as you stroked a hand up the length of his face, murmuring softly to him with a gentle smile.

Jake's heart lurched in his chest, heat gathering at his cheeks as he blinked at the sight of you. He swore he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

Whiskey nudged his nose at you, drawing out a sweet sounding giggle from your lips, and butterflies swooped in Jake's stomach at the sound. He couldn't think of any time where he'd felt like this towards someone, and he was finding that he wasn't opposed to it. Quite the opposite actually.

He studied you for a moment. You were dressed nicely, perhaps a little too many layers for the current heat, but not a hair was out of place on your head as you continued your one sided conversation.

Must be a new girl they took on over at the brothel, he thought to himself. The madame there, Greta, only dressed her girls up that fine when they were making their debut, and none of the other ladies would dress that fine in this heat. Yes, you must be out here advertising.

Jake knew he had to have you. He'd pay for every night that he could, just so long as no one else would have you.

Before he could stop himself, his feet began moving on their own and next thing he knew, he had come up to stand right behind you.

"Well, darlin’. There must be something special about you, huh?" He grinned. You jumped at the sound of his voice, eyes wide in surprise as you realized that you had an audience. You didn't answer right away, taking a moment to study him, and Jake discovered that he quite liked the way your gaze felt on him.

“I’m sorry?” you questioned.

“Whiskey here doesn’t warm up to just anyone,” he grinned, resting a hand next to yours. “In fact, he doesn’t like much of anyone accept me.”

You averted your gaze shyly, letting out another giggle as Whiskey nibbled on the strands of your hair. Jake's heart swelled in his chest, and he leaned closer towards you, taking in the scent of your lavender perfume.

"I haven’t seen you ‘round these parts before," he said. "You new in town?”

“Yes,” you answered politely, lashes batting against your cheek. “I just arrived here.”

“Figured,” he chuckled. “I would have remembered seeing someone as pretty as you walkin’ around.”

A hint of a smile tugged on your lips, and Jake wasn't even sure you realized it as you averted your gaze once more. He took that moment to put his bid in.

“So, sugar,” he started, “how much for your debut?”

The smile dropped from your lips as you looked at him with eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Jake already missed the shy smile you gave him, but he continued on with a chuckle.

“How much is it going to cost me to have you in my bed for the hour?”

Your brow furrowed even more as you cocked your head to one side. "I beg your pardon?"

“C’mon, honey. It’ll be worth your while,” he smirked, running his eyes up and down your form. God, he couldn't wait to hear the noises you'd make for him, the shy sighs and quiet moans as he took you apart piece by piece. “Promise it’ll be good for you too. Hell, I’ll even pay for the night.”

All trace of shyness and mirth had disappeared from your face as you looked at him with a stony expression, rage flickering behind your pretty eyes.

“How dare you!”

Jake felt uncertainty creep up his spine as his smirk faltered. This was certainly new.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?” He asked.

“The matter,” you seethed, “is that you have just assumed that I am some woman of ill repute, sir.”

He paused, studying you. God, you looked cute like this. “Well, I just figured since you were dressed up so pretty, it must have been to draw in customers.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

“I’m not a whore!” you shouted, drawing looks from passersby. Jake held his hands up in a placating manner, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through him. Oh, he was certainly going to have fun with you, and there was no way he'd be able to stay away. He was certain of it.

“My sincerest apologies, miss,” he offered, trying to hold back a grin. Usually the girls in town fawned all over him, and while it was convenient, it certainly got old after a while. But you? He liked that fire in you, and he wanted to see what else lay beneath that pretty exterior of yours.

You turned to walk away, huffing out a snort as you stopped after a few feet, looking over your shoulder to fix him with an icy look.

“I would advise you, Mr…?”

"Seresin," he grinned. "Jake Seresin."

“Mr. Seresin,” you breathed, pursing your lips. “I would advise you to not make such horrible assumptions next time you come across a woman you don’t know.”

You didn’t wait for his response as you continued walking. Jake's grin grew wider as he trotted after you, falling into step beside you as you continued on down the street. He could feel the irritation rolling off of you in waves.

"What are you doing, Mr. Seresin?" You asked, not even trying to contain your annoyance.

"Call me Jake."

You stopped in your tracks, scowling up at him.

“I most certainly will not,” you huffed. “Now answer my question.”

Jake stared at you. What was he doing? What was he doing? He'd never chased after a girl like this, certainly not one who yelled at him the way you had. No, he much prefered the convenience that came with girls chomping at the bit for his attention. Right?

So why did he want your attention so badly? There were girls who'd line up for even a moment to simply chat with him, and yet here he was chasing after a girl who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. Still, he thought back to the way you had cooed at Whiskey, the gentle smile on your face as you whispered to the beast.

He never thought he'd be jealous of a horse.

Jake's mind was drawn back as you started to squirm under his gaze, and he realized how long the two of you had been standing there in silence, your glare growing more prominant the more uncomfortable you became.

“Well, since I accidentally insulted you,” he cocked his head at your glare, “I figured the least I could do is walk you to wherever it is you’re going.”

“While I appreciate the gesture,” you said with gritted teeth a polite smile, “but that is entirely unnecessary.”

“Nonsense,” Jake chirped, “what kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed a beautiful young lady to walk around unescorted through town?”

The look you gave him had the grin on his face expanding as you huffed once again, continuing on the path down the street. Jake caught up to you once again, offering you his arm and arching a brow at the scoff you threw his way. You scowled, but took his arm, pointedly facing foward as a triumphant smirk made its way onto Jake's face. The two of you walked in silence only a few moments more until you stopped just in front of the newest building in the town of Maverick.

Jake looked up at the fancy looking building, fighting back the irritation that suddenly coursed through him.

"The lawyer?" He asked, trying to maintain his best poker face.

"Yes," you answered simply, letting go of his arm to put some distance between the two of you. Jake folded his arms across his chest and did his best to look like he wasn't glaring up at the offending structure.

“You come here to join your fiance?” he asked, tone even and face still unreadable.

“Are you jealous, Mr. Seresin?”

Jake looked at you then, jaw set and green eyes ablaze. Your face was filled with amusement as you looked at him.

“Answer the question, darlin’.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes for a brief moment. “No. I’m not even engaged. Benjamin is my brother.”

Relief washed through him, and were he a more introspective person, he'd analyze why he felt that way. But, Jake could only be thankful that he didn't appear to have any immediate competition for your affection and attention, already plotting how to run into you again as a smirk crept onto his face.

"I don’t think I got the pleasure of your name, sugar.”

“I highly doubt you’ll need it,” you stated simply. He arched an eyebrow at you.

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t believe our paths will cross again, Jake,” you said, lips curling in a small, victorious smile.

“Ah, that’s no fair, darlin’. All I want to know is your name,” he grinned, leaning in closer, once again catching a whiff of your lavender perfume. He could hear the way your breath caught in your throat, feeling at least a little satisfied that he seemed to have a similar effect on you that you did for him.

“Just my name?” you whispered.

“Just your name," he assured you with a nod.

The door to the building opened and your attention was drawn to the two figures who appeared.

"Scout?" The lawyer called to you at the same time Natasha spoke, and Jake smirked in triumph at the revelation of your name.

"Y/n, huh?" He chuckled, pulling back. The tension in your shoulders eased as he did. "Or is it Scout?"

"It's neither to you," you scowled, and a laugh ripped through Jake before he could stop it.

Benjamin walked quickly down the steps and down to your side where he leveled Jake with a stare. Jake was aware that he had a reputation, and he was sure the lawyer wasn't too keen on his baby sister being anywhere near the likes of someone like him.

“How can we be of service, Hangman?” Benjamin asked tensely, and Jake felt a brief tinge of irritation at the use of that damned nickname. Your head whipped around to look at him, shock and worry coloring your features as you, Jake assumed, put the puzzle pieces together. Jake let an easy, mocking grin take over his face as he looked at Benjamin before shooting a wink in your direction.

“Just escorting your sister back to your door, Benjamin. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would we?” He grins, not taking his eyes off of you. Benjamin stiffened beside you, shooting him a warning look. Jake had to admit, the man had some balls looking at him like that. Not many men would dare to.

“Yes, well,” Benjamin began, “thank you, Hangman. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“Anytime,” replied Jake, already turning to walk back. He gave you another wink, smirking at the way you gaped at him. “I’ll be seeing you around then, Scout.”

The dirt crunched beneath his boot as he set off back down the road. If he had anything to say about it, this most certainly wouldn't be the last time you saw him around.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

🫧 ━━ JOHNNY UTAH X CHUBBY F READER IMAGINE𓈒

𓈒part I 𓈒cheeky Johnny

𓈒inspo: @tedsbogusworld’s 🤖

━━ you are bodhi’s little sister

━━ just trying to make it through college while working part-time at the aquarium

━━ your parents aren’t around anymore, so you’ve been taking care of your older brother (paying the bills and rent with tuition money, stocking the fridge, dragging him in from the yard where he’s passed out in a puddle of beer and vomit in the cool waking sunset)

━━ your big brother throws the wildest parties ; you avoid them at all costs, shut yourself in your room, hide away at the beach, stay late at work. it’s just not your scene

━━ plus, his friends aren’t nice, especially not when they’ve been drinking, and being surrounded by tall, athletic bodies in tight swimsuits is detrimental to your baggy clothed, short, chubby self esteem

one night, you get home super late, but the party is still raging. Spilled cans of liquor on your floor, an unattended bonfire that you have to put out with the hose - we’re in a drought for chist’s sake, have some common decency, bodhi.

bodhi catches you in the kitchen, much to your scowling dismay, and has someone he wants you to meet. you’re really not in the mood for his antics tonight - he’s so drunk and high he can barely keep two feet parallel with the ground - so you basically tell him to fuck off

but, bodhi is super bad at respecting boundaries. it inflates when he’s under influence. he’s got you face to face with a brand new partygoer before you have a chance to run

“hey.” big white grin, tawny skin, heavy dark eyes. you have to crane your neck to look at his face.

the music is almost too loud for you to catch bodhi’s next infuriating line. “told ya she was cute, johnny. she’s all yours.”

you basically freak out on him, shove his shoulder and start yelling and cursing and drawing attention.

you’ve spent years taking care of him, not asking for a cent from his party fund, putting up with his bullshit, and you’re so fucking tired of him making fun of you just because you’re not a skinny surfing meat head. after you rip him a new asshole, you storm off.

you could go to your room, but that would mean shouldering through a crowd, so you opt for a long walk on the pier instead.

as you’re watching the dark ocean waves crash and spray against support beams, you feel a hand on your shoulder. you turn around, ready to fight, but it’s just bodhi’s new friend.

lowering your fist and replacing it with a scowl, you turn back around to face the open sea and ignore mr. tall dark and handsome.

“hey.” he leans on the railing beside you, accidentally scrapes his forearm on a barnacle and starts bleeding. “ah, fuck.”

“you’ve never been to a beach town, huh?” his arm is in your hand and you’re using your old tshirt to wipe the trickling red from his skin.

he smiles at you, boyishly, gives this coy bat of thick lashes that makes your tummy uneasy. you hope he doesn’t notice the abrupt way you let his arm flop. little tickly crabs crawl over your skin as you turn away.

“got a bandaid?”

“you’ll live.”

“ouch. hey, I think we got off on the wrong foot. i’m johnny, just moved here.”

“hullo, johnny just moved here, i’m not interested in company.”

he seems way too amused by your venom, lets loose a little chuckle. “you’re not very friendly, are you?”

“not to bodhi’s cult, no.”

“man, what is your problem?” he shakes his head and kicks dried salt. “you have the hots for me or something?”

stiffened shoulders, shrinking posture, eyes unable to hold his own. it’s all the info he needs. he gets a big grin that makes you want to jump right off the pier and let the angry water swallow you up.

“oh, yeah?” he tugs his bottom lip into the toothy smile, nudges your shoulder. “listen, just cuz i’m pretty doesn’t mean i’m a dickwad.”

“yeah, it does.” you think you’re insulting him, but really what you’ve just done is confirmed that you do think he’s pretty - the quiet, thick quiver in your voice doesn’t help your case.

“thanks, sweetheart.”

now you have a better idea - push him off the pier. instead, you walk away.

“oh, she’s adorable.”

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma x f!reader; Kokushibo, Shinobu, Kanae (mentioned).

Warnings: language, kind of dirty talk/references, choking, violence, gore, physical torture, murder, attempted murder, abuse, possible major spoiler (canon events reported with a modern adaptation), sugar daddy dynamics.

Plot: you spend a lovely day in Douma’s company, trying to get your mind off from your fake boyfriend’s business. However, a mysterious woman, seeking revenge, attacks you in the parking lot. Panicking, you call Muzan and he does not hesitate to come to your rescue. You see his dark side, you watch the way his usual charming façade drops to reveal his true nature. Scared to death, you get into his car and you know you are going to pay the price of your disobedience

PART 1| PART 2| PART 3| PART 4| PART 5 | PART 6

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

DISOBEDIENCE.

You were enjoying Douma’s company. He had taken you to the mall and bought you a dress he thought would have suited your perfectly. You had tried to protest, tugging at his arm to drag him away from the shop, but nor your words, neither your strength worked as a deterrent for him.

He was hilarious. Maybe way too sarcastic at times and his dark sense of humor had made you question his sanity more than once. However, he was exactly the type of person you could easily talk to about anything. Additionally, you felt safe around him. While taking a break from your duties, to elaborate the ‘not-so-shocking” news about Muzan and his villainous antics, had managed to calm you down, you could not look at Douma as a common bodyguard anymore.

He was an assassin. A friendly assassin.

Then again, you were living with a bunch of serial killers. What could possibly go wrong? They did not seem to keen to slaughter you. At least, not yet. They were all loyal to Muzan, though, and it was obvious that they would have never laid a finger on you, as long as you were under his protective wing. However, you knew that, if your ‘boyfriend’ suddenly decided to get rid of you, they would have not hesitated to chop your head off and throw it at his feet.

Around noon, Douma drove you to a fency restaurant. Everything was delicious and, as you expected, extremely expensive. He insisted to pay the bill again and you had no other choice but let him do it. You did not know if it was part of his job, or if it was just his way to flirt with you. While he had never really stopped complimenting you, he had still not wasted any given chance to flirt with every woman passing by.

You got easily flustered by his seductive mannerism, but crossing the line was not in your plans. Also, Douma was what you would have defined as a walking red flag.

But if Douma was a red flag, Muzan was a red blanket.

“You didn’t have to, you know. I am not your girlfriend” you said, glancing at the tall man beside you briefly, as you walked out of the restaurant. You felt slightly embarrassed. You still had your own money to spend. Although you were going to financially depend from Muzan, you had worked for two years at the restaurant and you had saved enough money to pay for a lunch.

Douma grinned, putting his sunglasses on casually “I know, but I wanted to. What kind of a man would I be, if I let you pay?” he declared, tucking his hand into the pocket of his trousers to draw the keys of his car out of it.

You narrowed your eyes at your morning companion “Do you mean that Muzan did not tell you to pay for whatever I need?” you inquired, rubbing the back of your neck in distress.

The silver-haired man smiled at you, opening your car door gentlemanly for you to hop in “Well, he did! But only if the money he had given you did not suffice. Let’s say that I like you! I did everything of my own accord!” he beamed, a smug smile crossing his sharp visage, as he glanced behind your back intensily. You were glad he was not paying much attention at your poor state.

Your cheeks flushed up and you tried to stammer out a ‘thank you’, when he abruptly pushed you inside the car, slamming the car door close with his foot. What the hell had just happened to the ‘I am a gentleman who is trying to win your heart’ attitude?

You shrieked, accidentally banging your head on the steering wheel as you fell backwards into the vehicle. You thought you were allucinating, when you heard a whistle outside the car. You would have never thought about a bullet flying right in your direction. However, when you pushed yourself up and you peeked out of the window, you heard another sound and, this time, there was no doubt about it: it was a gunshot.

You clasped your hand over your mouth in fear, your eyes searching for Douma and, when you finally spotted him crouched down behind a bush, safe and sound, you released a breath you did not know you were holding.

Who was attacking you? It was clear that a man as powerful and evil as Muzan had a long list of enemies to watch his back from. The person shooting at the car was evidently trying to kill either you, or Douma. How did they know about you? The medias did not know about your presence in Muzan’s life yet.

You stared outside the window in horror, conscious that stepping out of the car would have only meant dying. As foolish as it may have sounded, staying inside was the safest choice to make. Douma was clearly used to this. His cheeky grin did not fade as he reached behind his back and unfolded a pair of golden fans. They were sharp, shining under the sun. Those were not a pair of common fans. You had seen them into a lot of museums: they were war fans, tessens to be precise.

“Ah, Shinobu-chan, I wondered when you were going to show up! You are always at my throat, aren’t you?” Douma beamed, glancing over his shoulder to check on your attacker. You curiously followed his gaze and you finally saw your aggressor too. It was not a surprise for you to see a woman, probably around your age, unsheathing a katana. What puzzled you was her stature, instead. Big doe gradient purple eyes, matching bangs, she was a petite woman with a deadly glare.

“Douma-san, how could I miss a chance to kill you?” she chimed, her grip on the hilt of her sword tightening. Shivers ran down your spine as you ducked down on the passenger seat enough to hide yourself, but to also see what was happening outside.

The silver-haired man stood up, pouting at the stranger “Ouch, you are so cruel Shinobu-chan! We could have been so good together!” he complained, cocking his head to the side. What? Was she a psychotic ex? Dear God, you had no energy to deal with that, then again it was kind of entertaining.

While Douma appeared to be confident and almost thrilled about the incoming fight, the short woman was not amused in the slightest. The irk mark on her forehead was evident as she sprinted towards him at an incredible speed. She was so graceful she resembled a butterfly, her hair swaying around her visage as she unleashed a series of lethal, quick slashes you would have not been able to avoid at all.

Douma, on the other hand, laughed at her face, countering her attacks back easily. The sound of her sword clashing against the tessens made you flinch and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. What exactly was happening? Could Douma win against this woman? Could you help him? How? You did not know how to fight, but…

But you knew how to drive.

You palmed your forehead and your stomach clenched at the thought that had just crossed your mind. You were not an assassin. You were not like them, you were not like him. You would have never been like them. Still, knocking her down on the road would have been a good way to stop her.

You ran your fingers through your hair in dispair. Muzan. You could call Muzan.

You reached down to grab your purse, your hand rummaging through it until you grasped your phone. With your heart still thrumming into your chest, you unlocked the screen only to see seven missed calls and several texts messages from him. Your heart sank into your stomach. You had screwed up, you were not going to make it out alive anyway. Despite that, you were desperate and you called him.

You heard the girl wince and your teary eyes darted on her. She had a deep cut on her left cheek, blood dripping from her hand too as Douma stood a few strides away from her with a malicious grin gracing his lips.

As soon as your name popped out on his phone, Muzan answered immediately.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growled, making you whimper.

But as you opened your mouth to tell him that you were sorry and what kind of situation you had found yourself into, you choked on your own words. You sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks in fear as the bloody, mortal battle between Douma and Shinobu raged outside.

“What’s happening? Are you hurt?” Muzan pressed, his tone cold and authoritative, yet concerned. Did someone find you? Did they kidnap you? Oh, he would have killed Nakime with his own hands for having let you go out alone.

“Y/N, fucking answer me!” he roared, only for you to feebly cry out an apology.

“I’m sorry! R-Really! I-I’m fine, but someone attacked us! I’m with Douma, he is—” you were cut off by his deep, menacing voice and you jolted on your seat at the way he barked out his resentment.

“You’re with who?! – he snapped, slamming the palm of his hand over his desk, making the coffee spill on some papers he was reading – I’m going to gouge his eyeballs out of his wretched skull! Tell me where you are now!” he demanded coldly.

He was furious. You barely knew him, that was true, but you could tell he meant every word he had said. Your lower lip quivered and you found yourself at loss of words.

In that very moment, though, Douma bursted out laughing, catching your attention again. Shinobu was laying at his feet, as he pressed his shoe over her throat. When did he get to knock her down? She was covered in wounds, her sword scattered behind her, out of her reach, and you gulped down nervously. Was he going to kill her?

“I don’t know… It’s a parking lot not too far from the ‘The Blue Spider Lily’. It’s a restaurant on the fifth avenue. P-Please, calm down!” you blurted out in a timid attempt to cool down his nerves.

Muzan was not mad. He was furious, on the verge to drive straight to where you were and commit a mass murder. Not only you had tricked his bodyguard, but you had left with the most unreliable, sociopathic and reckless member of the Moons, and did not even think about giving him a call to ask for his consent. Now, with your life in Douma’s hands, when you were not close to him, where he could protect you, how could you ask him control himself?

“Tell me who is the Slayer” Muzan hissed through gritted teeth.

The Slayer? What did he mean by that? Could it be the girl fighting against Douma? You were sweating, the fear of enraging him more was consuming you from the inside. He had not mentioned any of that in the contract. He should have told you that, in order to accept it, you had to be a skilled fighter.

You sniffed, wiping away some tears with the back of your hand “It’s a girl. I think her name is Shinobu. – you mumbled, watching how the silver-haired man had gripped the girl’s hair to bring her face closer to his one – Douma is going to kill her, isn’t he?” you asked, shutting your eyes close not to assist to what was yet to come.

It took a moment for him to say something, but when he did you felt something in your heart cracking “Not in front of you. I would not allow it – he stated softly – Stay in the car. I’m coming”.

You did not have a chance to reply, he hanged up, leaving you speechless and terrorized into the car. No, not it was enough. You did not want to watch Douma die before your eyes for having executed an order. You could not sit idly into the car, while the world was crumbling underneath your feet.

You took a deep breath and got out of the shiny Maserati, jogging towards Douma with a blurry vision and wobbly legs. He was chuckling at the way Shinobu whimpered in pain under the small cuts he was leaving on her cheeks with a switchblade. Wicked, he was wicked. You were surprised no one was around to stop this madness.

“Douma, stop! Please, don’t hurt her!” you cried out, trying to shove him away from the woman.

He stared at you curiously, blade pressed against her throat “Y/N, what are you doing here? Get back in the car, I’m almost done with this pretty, little Slayer! Her sister was funnier, I gotta say it!” he crooned, making something inside the purple-eyed girl snap.

She kicked him between his legs, sitting up in a nick of time, and hastily grasped her katana. She charged at him, tears spilling from her eyes, migling with blood, as she slashed his shirt open “Don’t you dare talking about her, you piece of shit!” she raved at him, swinging her sword to slit his throat open. She truly did not have anything to lose, she wanted nothing more than to see him dead.

Although Douma easily dodged her attack, he stared at her unfazed, unfolding his tessen to back the second slash unleashed by the furious woman. Fearing for Douma’s life and cursing his name for acting recklessly, almost as if he enjoyed playing with fire, you decided to help him in the only way you knew could work.

You launched yourself at her, confiding in the fact that you were probably physically stronger than her, although armless, and pushed her to the ground. You knew Muzan would have most likely disapproved your total lack of self-preservation, but you did not want any of them to die. When you wrapped your arms around Shinobu’s waist and roughly pushed her down to the ground, she gasped in surprised and her grip on the hilt of her sword loosened. You fell over her, the sound of the blade clattering behind you making you thank whoever watched out for you from the Paradise Gates.

“Holy shit!” Douma beamed, hiding his devious smile behind his fan, as he watched you pinning Shinobu’s wrists above her head.

“Who are you? I should have known that rat had hired another assassin! – she spat, narrowing her eyes at you as she tossed and turned underneath you – You did a good job in palying dumb! I thought you were one of this bastard’s girls!” she angrily stated.

Being spotted with a member of the ‘Kibutsuji gang’ implied that you were corrupted to the core too, did it not? You were not like them, though. You liked to believe you were still the kind, hardworking girl trying to graduate, the one who loved hanging out with the friends, the one who did not want to hurt anybody.

You shook your head, staring deep into her eyes “Trust me, I am not! – you asserted, feeling the familiar knot in your throat growing considerably – And Douma is not my boyfriend, for God’s sake!” you added shortly, averting your eyes from her contrived face only to assess Douma’s reaction before you proceeded in your suicidal task to keep her at bay.

“She wishes I was!” the silver-haired killer cooed, eyeing you maliciously from behind his dark sunglasses.

“Douma!” you snorted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Come on, we were about to fuck in the basement! And you were totally into it, do not deny it, Y/N-chan!” Douma complained, crossing his arms against his chest.

At this point, you were considering the idea of allowing Muzan to kill him. But you did not have enough time to spend on giving him a lecture. The clock was ticking and you needed to give it your best shot not to let this mess end up in a bloodbath. Inevitable, however, judging by Muzan’s tone during the call.

“Shinobu, right? – you blurted out, switching your attention back at the Slayer – You need to leave now!

“Argh, the hell with that, I don’t care! – Shinobu shouted, bucking her hips in vaim to flip you over – You can’t understand! He killed my sister nine months ago! Let me kill him and I’ll gladly take my leave! He took Kanae away from me!” she thundered, making your heart ache in your chest. Her sister. Douma had killed her sister.

Was Kanae a Slayer too? How did it happen?

Too many questions pestered your mind, but the roaring sound of a car rushing down the street made you three turn your heads at it. By the time your eyes landed on the black vehicle, your blood ran cold and you knew it was over. It was over for you, for Douma and for this crazy woman.

Muzan would have killed you all, painfully, slowly, discarding your bodies in a ditch right after it.

When the driver clapped on the brakes, you loosened your grip on Shinobu’s wrists, eyes rounded as you squeezed her shoulder “Run, run as fast as you can” you uttered, watching how she frowned at your suggestion.

Were you really letting her go? Who exactly were you?

She wanted to say something but she just bowed her head at you, collected her sword and ran off to the opposite direction. You heard a car door slam and heavy footsteps approaching you. He was there. He had arrived. You fearfully looked up at him, your eyes locking for a split second, and you thought you were going to die on the spot. The deadly glint in his eyes, the way his plum red irises seemed to swallow you whole made you unable to stand up from the ground.

His nostrils flared as he made his way to you, but Douma blocked his path. He stepped in front of you, taking his sunglasses off as he raised his hands apologetically “Muzan-sama, it’s not her fault—”.

“You’re right, it’s yours” the raven-haired man venomously spat, before punching him straight on the the nose. You gasped, watching as Douma fell in front of you for the harsh impact of Muzan’s fist. Blood dripped down his ringed fingers, as he tried to stop the flow, and you crawled towards him, checking on him.

“Goodness, Douma! Are you alright? I’m so sorry” you fretted, helping him to sit up. Why? Why did he have to hit him out of the blue?

Douma winced, waving his hand at you and shrugging “I should’ve seen it coming. I’m fine, sweetheart” he breathed out.

Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Was it a joke? According to Muzan it was. But the comedy was about to turn into a tragedy. How did he dare to call you in such an intimate way, huh?

“What the fuck did you say?” Muzan growled, ready to kick him in the guts, but this time you stood up, shielding the bleeding bodyguard behind you. You had enough. He had already done enough. Tears running down your cheeks, head high, you pushed Muzan’s chest in anger.

His eyes, boring into yours, widened at your audacity, as you confronted him. You were tired. He could tell it by the way your hooded eyes were puffy and swollen, or the way your frame trembled with every step you took.

“I think you’ve already done enough” you sternly said, eyes daggers on him.

Oh, you were crossing a line. Did you really feel in the position to tell him what to do? Were you not an insolent, high and mighty brat? He wanted to teach you a lesson, he really did. But he liked this part of you, your subtle way of challenging him was intriguing. It took a moment for him to elaborate what you had said and calculate what to do with you. However, he finally came up with a plan.

He grasped your jaw roughly, your faces so close you could feel his hot breath fanning your lips “You shut the fuck up, sweetheart. – he whispered coldly, making you gulp forcefully down – Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car, huh? Oh, but you have a kink for acting like a rebellious child, don’t you? Good, just good. That’s disobedience, love. I won’t let you go unpunished”.

And, before you could process what was happening, he dragged you back towards his car. You had not even noticed Kokushibo’s presence, before you heard Muzan addressing to him.

“Kokushibo, help that scumbag clean the scene. We’ll be back late tonight” he announced, commanding you to enter the vehicle. It was in that moment, when you hopped into his car, that you realised how mad Muzan was. You took a hint by the way he went zero to sixty in a split second and his grip on the steering wheel tightened to the point his knuckles turned white.

You were a dead bride walking.

Author note.

Hi there! The Fourth chapter is out! I hope you are going to like it and thank you so much for your support, guys! Muzan-sama is angry, but I am weak in the legs when he is upset. You know, the problem is he talks, I moan lol xD

Enough rambling, I know!

Let me know what you think about it! Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

Tags: @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art

[sleepingroses114]

This Rody also exists in the scenario if Vince lived I think, I haven't thought too much about it but this could also be completely separate from that

And I drew him in the waiter uniform cuz I just like drawing it but I doubt he'd want to be a waiter again. HOWEVER I imagine he gets hired easier because of the fact he worked at Vince's bistro if that makes sense

I also imagine he's mostly the same, like he's gonna be shaken up for awhile but I assume he's gonna get back on his feet cuz he has bills to pay

Or maybe he even goes back to college, I really don't see him just being miserable forever cuz he'll have the mindset of "Manon would want me to move on!"

One last thing, I made his hair shorter cuz "hair holds memories" and he let's it grow out again eventually

(this is all just ideas, none of which I think are canon)