ampropeller

[carcarrot]

its important to go see a low stakes concert sometimes

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + HOW LONG THEY LAST DURING NNN

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — how long they last during no nut november

— ꒰ including ꒱ — childe, heizou, wriothesley, scaramouche, alhaitham, neuvillette

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), petnames: baby, princess, darling, good girl, doggy style/prone bone, hitting it raw, pussy drunk genshin men & touch starved, very filthy & loads of cum, mean boys and teasing you a lil

SHORTEST

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱ + one hour

in the early stages of your plan, meaning when you first proposed the brilliant idea to childe to try out this little challenge and see how long you'd be able to make it work without being all over each other, you were confident that the two of you would at least make it till the two weeks mark— and much to your delightful surprise, the eleventh harbinger turned out to be quite motivated to prove not only you, but prove to himself that he can get through it.

fundamentally speaking and going from childe's point of view, crossing dangerous paths with a resilient fighter on a blood-thirsty battle field surely must be the same thing as resisting his darling princess day in and out— resist the urge to pin you against the mattress and fuck the living hell out of your body.

well, before moving forward to what had happened to be the worst hour of childe's entire life, so only a pure and simple hour into this, he catches the first glimpse of you in a dress as you walk towards the desk in your room, staring all dazedly over the bewitching garment that was framing your pretty figure just the right way and hugged you tight on just the best places.

alas, that's all it took your boyfriend to forget what no nut november was all about in the first place.

"ugh, you know what?" before you can even properly register it, childe had risen up from his seat to move closer to you, and under what felt like a split second, you could already smell his maddening fragrance, namely a costly perfume purchased from fontaine, crossing over your flaring nostrils as he greets you with a handsome, smirking face— so much more handsome than you have seen him before, it's like he really tried his best to get his way now.

the thought of the challenge died with the rasp of a groan scraping alongside your lips as he presses you between the furniture and his strong chest, initiatively making you sit on the wooden desk.

"you're fucking making me lose my mind, you know that?"

he hides the rich blush on his cheeks as he slants into your neck, the hint of teeth in the open-mouthed kisses on the thin skin turning you into a mere tremble, pouty lips breaching due to a faint mewl slithering past your tongue as you notice how one large palm slowly cups your clothed sex and rubs small circles on your little bolts of nerves.

you sigh deeply through your mouth before following the fragile breathes by a slow roll of your hips meeting his moving hand all scattered across your sensitivity, "we— we're about to lose the challenge, ajax," you whine out and try to reason, even though all you wanted was for him to just continue— the way you said it to him as well, sounding like you're trying to keep yourself from making it go any further yet at the same time, wrapping one arm around childe's neck to keep him secured against your quivering body at all costs.

"hm? what challenge?" the man feigns a sweet innocence with a smirk as you roll your eyes at him, "you're unbelievable," and shake your head with a smile as you let yourself lean into his blistering touch, the vibrations of his flaming trace on your cunt thrumming right into your complete bloodstream.

"well, yes," ajax whispers against the wet flesh of your neck— gratefully gathering your clothed pussy on his finger pads to play with your fluttering hole, eliciting a harsh sob of arousal from you.

"unbelievably sexy, you mean."

before he quickly pushes two fingers into the waistband of your panties to reach into your wet sex— exploding his hot digits over your wetness with a sudden snap of his fingers into your hole, a deep, guttural groan that nearly sent you into a daze buzzing into your ears.

fuck, you were just so adorable, so utterly alluring when you attempted to do the 'right' thing, miserably pushing through the challenge as good as you were able to, while also giving childe those dreamy and sweet doe-eyed glances through under your lashes when he freely roams his fingers through your slicked pussy, groaning into your neck when your hole spread so pretty for him, practically waiting to be taken.

— ꒰ HEIZOU ꒱ + three days

it's almost infuriating with the way heizou was teasing you all calculated and especially throughout the complete next three days into the challenge you had proposed to him— without even giving you one try to catch your breath from him, how he deliberately made sure to always give you his bright, unnecessary insight on all the lewd fantasies he'd absolutely love to do right now.

although of course, sadly he couldn't!

until now at least, you see, your boyfriend heizou was a hypnotic, not to mention clever individual, and he made sure to tease you just enough, just right to have you practically twitching and pressing your thighs together as you're attempting to fall asleep next to him— his hot crotch brushing over the expanse of your ass when he pseudo-innocently leans into your neck, slowly sliding the tip of his tongue to tease the shell of your ear and listen to your quickened pulse.

"hmm, what's wrong?" heizou dares to ask you, and it's shameless when he idly hooks one hand around your hips to pull you deeper into his semi hardened erection, a breathless laugh falling from his pretty lips as he pretends like he didn't know that it was because of him and only him that you're in such sensitive state, unable to recollect yourself, catching how your ass was grinding back to place little, desperately movements on him— pressing into him much deeper and precise, your neglected and puffy folds sliding to the shape of his clothed cock now visible through his boxers as you messily soil the fabric, leaving behind a film of sheen whites.

heizou drawls at you, teasingly rocking into your heat which was fluttering around nothing at all, but wishing to just feel him instead— a constant longing to have his thick shaft roam freely through your walls and mark you through within with his warm cum oozing down your used hole.

"oh baby, my baby," he slurrs into your ear, "you're so wet, i thought you were a good girl, you know?" he continues in accessory to ruthlessly dragging the length of his dick across your weeping cunt sensually, the sudden twitch of your figure and a desperate mewl making him hiss out his hot breathing through clenched teeth.

"what do you want, princess? you gonna say it or not?"

FAILED HALF-WAY THROUGH

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱ + one week

"wriothesley—ahh, please.." you babble out as wriothesley forces one of your thighs up to bend and rest against his shoulder, while now, opening you wider with a nudge at your other leg— the delicate scent of you was certainly much more penetrating now, and he easily rolls his tongue between your folds to collect your messy slick, dangerously tempted to just press his face off your cunt so he could fuck you like he means it, like he wanted to this entire week.

a deep moan slips past his lips as he frames his hot mouth over your aching clit, the deep vibrations of his noises nowhere near as powerful to him as they were to you as they continuously bounce off and course through your bloodstream.

you're practically riding his face and it's something wriothesley always needs you to do— until his rosy cheeks were stained in your warm arousal and his chin dripping of it, revealing desire curling in your lower stomach when he fucks his sloppy muscle into your hole and parts it effortlessly, forcing you memorize just how impossibly fine it felt to be pleasured by him, focused on the overstimulation he'd thrust into you.

"never doing this a-again," he groans, "fuckin' never,"

his dark hair falls over his eyes as he pushes his tongue back and forth your pussy— being so filthy to you and a hot mess when he collects your dribbling slick on the flat of his tongue before parting his mouth, letting it ooze down his bottom lip while he glances up through a hungry gaze, a mix of his spit and your arousal drooling onto your swollen clit before he digs his face back into you again.

your hole moulds after the shape of his pink muscle as the deepened coil in your stomach begins to tighten each time wriothesley would shake his head from left to right, suckling away your last hard spasms— your vision thoroughly blurred now, your thighs beginning to ache from the position wriothesley had you bend in as he places his hands on your ass to greedily squeeze and press you into his face.

he's so pussy drunk now— the soft tip of his tongue is kissing every part of your silken walls and you feel it become faster, parting your clenching hole to coax out every single orgasm you could give him.

— ꒰ SCARAMOUCHE ꒱ + two weeks

as one might know, your boyfriend scaramouche had a habit of overestimating his strength in quite a few scenarios— and even after two weeks of consistently dodging every little possibility to touch and kiss that lovely body of yours, he thinks its cute how eager you were to make him fail.

on top of that, kuni was always pushing his own pleasure aside, meaning, before he would allow himself to cum, he'd have to make you climax at least two times— apart from that, what made him ultimately fail the challenge you placed on him was when you started to drown him in sudden praises, randomly add petnames to each sentence, forming them so slurred and sensual, whispering them against his ear shells before he couldn't take it anymore.

"f-fuck, that's what you wanted, huh?" scaramouche desperately tries to keep himself together, but how was he able to do this after two weeks of resisting you, his words now subdued in a whimper and his hips stuttering into your hole when your walls finally wrap around him again.

it was intoxicating to feel your body change whenever he fucked you, it's like someone really wanted him and it strengthened his ego— when he senses how your muscles were beginning to relax at the precise candid squelches of your warm pussy slobbering around his sensitive cock, your mouth parted as you rasp into his ear, dropping your head into his neck before kissing and nibbling down to his collarbone.

despite that, you were honestly surprised that you were able to resist your boyfriend in the first place— that realization coming to you now that he's back at pleasuring you, his hands squeezing at your tits before he thrusts into your plushy cunt, his rigid length throbbing inside of your sensitivity until your sensitivity was weeping, squeezing and oozing out slick as his hands clung bruisingly to your hips to move you on his shaft.

the voice in your ear was deep, rough with lust, "take it— that my fucking cock, fuck,"

scaramouche groans and was on the brink of crumbling into one million pieces, his eyes fluttering close as you moan shamelessly into his neck with his entire weight pressed into your chest. relentlessly fucking his twitching shaft into you until he's sure you're seeing stars, until scaramouche knows you're becoming addicted of his cock again and on how nice and good it felt whenever he split you pretty and open, another greedy rock of his hips making you tremble, but you're squeezing finer still— because he was simply irresistible.

LONGEST

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱ + the entire month

“fuck love, fucking finally," alhaitham groans, for once, in a tone bathed in gravel and so shameless that it made you squeeze your hole around him as he fucks you hard, your face pressed into the soused pillows and your ass perked up high with the help of two strong palms keeping you up.

his hips repeatedly slam against yours in an animalistic pace, a feral perception that forced its way through your hole that it certainly knocked the hot air off your lungs— and aside from that, he's so impossibly thick and heavy in you that it's almost a little too difficult to keep him in, especially after going without sex for an entire month and taking him raw tonight.

to note, alhaitham was quite fond of foreplay and wouldn't just make you take him without preparation, but the two of you had been impossibly touch starved— and even after he tried to reason and tell you that, "you know it will hurt if i don't prep you," you urged him to just slide himself in, just tonight, and you cannot wait until you're burning from the thick cock stretching your pussy.

in truth, you're pretty much certain you won't even last this single round and from what you can tell from mannerism alone, you aren't even sure if alhaitham was able to get through this one either.

the grip on your hips was almost bruising, and your ass repeatedly bounces back and forth his cock as he rewards your pussy with the heavy spread of his dick coaxing out multiple squeezes from your hole— and alhaitham's hips stutter ever so often, even with all the filthy arousal dribbling down from your hole to all the way his base, the grip you continuously had on him making his mind grow in a haze, warmed by your body nestled underneath his bigger one.

"gonna cum— gonna make me cum," you whine into the pillows and without further warning, alhaitham leans his entire weight forward so you could swallow him as deeply as you could, your velvety pussy sucking mercilessly hard as he groans into your neck, your whines so deliciously loud from the new position— that not only made you tighter, but much more difficult to resist that his mind spins and clouds before him, repeatedly sinking his erection into the needy twist of your cunt, his thickly coated dick stretching you from behind.

fuck, this whole situation was so raw, so unrestrained, it drove you on, made you needier, made you redouble the efforts to take him deeper and better until he brushes over all the sweet spots in your cunt— and you hope for alhaitham to try and please you like that, to work his cock faster because he simply had to, especially after taking this challenge so fucking serious, knowingly teasing you about it and making you live without his perfectly shaped cock for over a month.

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱ + the entire month

no one, and i mean no one could ever make neuvillette go against an agreed upon rule— speaking of which, you proposed the idea to him and wanted to try it out, and as a response, the index agreed.

of course he agreed, neuvillette would agree to anything you'd ask him to do, yet for some reason you really believed he would go against something he promised you not to do— and to say it drove you absolutely crazy would be an understatement, the sudden missing of the way his calloused hands would worship your body and curves, placing wet kisses on your skin before spilling sweet nothing into your ears.

it's unfair on how easy he was able to do it while you were weeping and burning from inside and out— up until now, until one month passes.

you rock your hips into him when he presses you down with his hands squeezing the bouncy flesh of your ass, his cock digging deep inside of you with each fresh thrust of your cunt languidly rolling across his entire shaft. neuvillette watches you from underneath through precious eyes, and your breathing begins to stutter when you slant your body forward so your perked up nipples would brush over his chiseled chest.

"w-why did you go on for a month?" you ask out of breath, as well as shakily but curious, feeling his hands squeeze your ass before he rolls you over his length himself, your foreheads resting against each other, your puffy nipples rubbing across his chest and making you mindless in your ministrations with your lips parted and a sheen string of spit oozing along your chin.

"y—you, you wanted it," he drawls back and looks a little confused, "you— ugh, say something and i will fulfill your wish," neuvillette adds earnestly— and he's right, he always will be and that's when you’ve realized that he must be so fucking touch starved right now, it being utterly obvious when his back arches off the mattress to repeatedly rut his hips into your heat, your tits hurdling up and down and going hand in hand with every intoxicating slap of his hips into your neglected cunt, driving himself further.

his words were muffled against your pouted lips as he helps you bounce of his cock— the wet squelches of smack smack smack echoing through the humid room and adding fuel to the fire burning through your passionate desire.

neuvillette's hands greedily squeeze at the plush flesh— fuck, he missed kneading your ass and worshipping your behind just how you deserved it, grunting when you wiggle your hips to engulf him and relieve him of the desperation that built up throughout the entire month, his leaking cockhead grazing inside of your pulsing splotches, making his pace stutter and twist desirably.

"you're breathtaking— i missed this," he grunts at you, a little whispery this time that ended in a crumbling tremble when your walls hug him tight, the movements of your bodies sloppy and without any form of control anymore, the erratic pace having your frame jiggle back and forth his figure as he spreads you apart with the next thrust of his heavy cock,

"missed doing this, so much,"

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[marvelfilth]

Angel (18+)

Pairing: stripper!Tara Carpenter x f! lawyer!reader

Warnings: no ghostface AU, Tara is 21, R is 27, smut, lap dance, pole dance, alcohol consumption, tipsy driving (pls don't do that), fingering, a bit of degradation and praise

Summary: You need to unwind. Angel gives you more than you could have ever asked for.

Masterlist

You've had a bad month. Scratch that, you've had the worst month of your career. You've lost one of your loyal clients to a rival and your boss chewed you out over it, and, to top it off, you've lost a case you've been working on for the past four months.

You blink back the exhaustion, leaning back on the railing of your office balcony. You've been nursing your whiskey for the past hour, hoping it'll chase away your gnawing thoughts, but to no avail, you're still deep in your head, rethinking every decision that led you to this.

You check your wrist watch, the platinum glistening in the city lights, and decide to finally head home. You finally relax once you're in your car, putting the key in the ignition and driving off, leaving the day behind. You take a familiar route, driving almost on autopilot and humming along to the song on the radio, fingers drumming on the wheel.

You're almost home when you change your mind and make a sharp turn on the next intersection, heading to a place you haven't been to in months.

Two men in the front greet you with identical nods, holding the door open for you, sensual music spilling into the bustling street. Your eyes zero in on the bar, not paying any attention to the stage and the dancers, happy to see a familiar face handling alcohol tonight.

"Tough day?" Amber asks with a sympathetic smile, placing a full glass in front of you.

"Tough month," you sigh, not in the mood for a conversation.

She offers one more smile before turning to another guest, sensing your desire to be left alone. Her eyes take on a new glint, lips slightly pursed in a cute pout as she talks to a clean shaved man. You scoff in your drink and shake your head, ignoring the glare she sends you.

Leaning back against the bar you settle to simply people watch for some time, maybe get a dance or two from a pretty woman.

"You should ask for Angel," Amber says, wiping the counter. You look at her in question, your glass stopping midway to your mouth. "She's new, but she's good. You could use some unwinding and she's the best at it, trust me."

You nod slowly and ask for a refill before leaving her a tip and walking off to a secluded booth in the back of the club, settling back on the couch and trying to find a new face in the sea of dancers you already know well. Out of the corner of your eye you see Felicity, a fiery redhead with no filter. She effortlessly glides on the dancefloor in her nine inch heels, red lingerie catching eyes of gaping men with pockets full of cash. She bends in a sensual move, her thong granting a perfect view of her round ass. You hum when money starts falling in waves, making the floor disappear. She deserves that and more.

She catches your eye, brow raising suggestively, to which you shake your head no.

"Waiting for someone?" A voice whispers right in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your head turns to be met with the eyes of a stranger inches away from your own, lips painted blood red and pulled into a smirk.

You swallow, feeling the swell of her breasts against your arm that's resting on the back of the couch, and shake your head tersely, not trusting your voice just yet. She bites her lower lip and pulls away to slowly walk around the couch, making sure to show off her assets.

Almost all of her body is bare, her lacy push up bra making her breasts look good enough to throw handfuls of cash at her feet. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the full globes, then lowers to a dark red triangle of fabric between her legs held by a thin string. She takes her sweet time in caging you against the leather cushions, draping herself over your lap, hands settling on your shoulders.

You take this opportunity to study her features: the slope of her small nose; the freckles dusted all over her upper cheeks; her dark and inviting eyes, eagerly drinking you up with the same vigor; her full lips, painted red and waiting to be claimed.

She takes your whiskey and sips, expertly masking the distaste behind an alluring smile, but you still catch the way her eyes momentarily squeeze in a fleeting grimace, making you bite back a chuckle.

"I'm Angel. What's your name?" She purrs, hips moving to the beat as she plays with the hair at the nape of your neck. You see some men glare at you with jealousy, their jaws grinding. Angel must be fairly popular to grant a reaction like that.

"Does it matter?" You husk, struggling to keep your hands to yourself.

"Mysterious, huh?" She chuckles, arching against your chest, her barely covered breasts almost spilling out right in your face, hips moving in circles against your crotch. "I like that."

You hum, settling back to watch her flexible body roll against your slowly relaxing one, her lower lip pulled between pearly white teeth.

"There you go," she whispers, sliding her palm down your chest, her other hand tangling in your hair, nails scratching your scalp. It feels so good you almost purr. "Tell me what got you so wound up."

You sigh and take another sip of your drink before answering. "Lost my top client."

She hums, her torso moving in a slow hypnotic circle, before leaning back into you to whisper right in your ear. "Their loss."

She pulls back to look you in the eye, the space between you almost crackling with tension.

"Hey Angel," one of the men that's been glaring at you calls out, waving a couple of twenty dollar bills in the air. "Come give me a dance."

She doesn't even look in his direction, but you silently reach for your wallet, taking out three hundred dollar bills and pushing them under the string of her thong. "Stay."

Her eyes widen and she bites her lip before nodding. She throws her head back, hands leaving your shoulder to slide up her waist to cup her breasts, pushing them together inches away from your face. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you have to grip your thighs to keep yourself from touching her. She rises on her knees and changes the position, her back now to your front, ass snugly against your crotch.

You finish your whiskey in one gulp, your breath hitching. Her wavy hair gets in your face and you breathe in the enticing scent of her perfume mixed with the essence of her. She turns her head, looking at you with half lidded eyes. "You like that?"

"I do," you reply, noting the slight blush rising on her cheeks.

"Want to move somewhere private?" She asks, her eager tone cracking the unbothered facade she's been putting on.

You nod and follow her to the other side of the club, Amber sending you thumbs up from behind the bar before going back to flirting with another drunk man, crisp bills filling her pockets.

You're led to a dark hallway that leads to private rooms, anticipation buzzing under your skin. She nods at the security guard, the man looking you up and down before he lets you through. She locks the door and you wander deeper into the room, taking a seat on the velvety couch.

Sensual music starts spilling from the speakers before she turns sharply, a devilish smirk on her lips. She saunters to the pole, hips swaying in tune with the music, eyes never leaving yours as she hooks her leg over the metal and twirls. She closes her eyes, losing herself in the dance, and grips the pole before bending, back arched, the swell of her ass right in front of your face.

You exhale, nearly biting down on your knuckles from the need to turn her around and fuck her right on the floor. "Angel," you breathe out. She faces you and drops to her knees, legs spread as her hips move up and down, arms over her head as she grips the pole. "Yes?"

You pat your lap and without a moment of hesitation she climbs on top of your thighs, taking off her bra. You bite back a moan when her breasts spill out, pinkish nipples begging for your mouth. She takes hold of your neck, her forehead pressed against yours as she rocks her hips on your lap, her breathing labored. She weaves languidly against your tense torso, her lips brushing against your cheek before she pulls away to settle her hands on your chest, nails scratching your white shirt.

"Fuck," you close your eyes, enjoy the press of lithe body, arousal coursing through your veins. She hums, her center flush against your thigh and you feel her wetness smear on the fabric of your slacks. Your fingers clench uselessly at your sides. "You're enjoying this," you state, searching her face for an answer.

"More than you can imagine," she whispers, grinding down on your thigh with intent. Her nipples brush against your chest and she moans quietly, repeating the motion. You unconsciously thrust up, your pelvis connecting with her heat just as she is rolling down, sending pleasure through her body. She grabs your shoulders and your eyes lock. You thrust again, intentionally this time, your palms planted firmly on the couch to add force. Her hips rock, her needy moans filling your ears.

You can't take your eyes off her.

Fuck that, you think, before planting your hands on her hips, directing her movements, and pulling her into a feverish kiss. Her lips are impossibly soft, and her tongue tastes like whiskey and some fruity cocktail she's probably had earlier. Your hands move from her hips to her breasts, squeezing.

"Yes," she moans, greedily pushing against you. "More, please."

You hesitate only for a moment before lowering your mouth to her nipple, sucking it in with hunger you didn't know you possessed. She bites on her knuckles, hiding a loud moan from the guards behind the door. Your fingers itch with the need to tear off her thong and plunge deep into her soaking pussy, claiming the most vulnerable part of the petite brunette.

"How does that feel?" Your teeth graze against the underside of her breast before you take the other nipple in your mouth, tongue sliding on the hardened nub.

"Like I'm about to come," she whimpers, messily humping on your thigh. "Need you inside," she pleads, taking hold of your hand.

You follow her lead, your fingers easily pushing her thong aside and dipping between her slick folds, strands of wetness clinging to your digits. She buckles against your hand in search of friction, and you teasingly circle her clit, pulling a delicious moan out of her lips. "Like that?" You tease, even though you're as affected as she is.

"Yes- fuck, just like that," she whimpers.

"What about the rules, Angel? You gonna tell your boss about this?"

She shakes her head. "No, I promise. Fuck the rules." She desperately clings to your wrist, pressing your palm against her heat.

It's all you need to finally thrust your fingers inside her cunt. She cries out, biting your shoulder to hide the sound, and starts moving her hips up and down, meeting your fingers halfway.

"Such a bad girl you are, Angel. Riding a stranger like a slut," you grunt, fastening your pace. Filthy sounds fill the room as your fingers keep disappearing in her pussy, bringing her closer to the edge. Suddenly, a misplaced spark of jealousy ignites something deep inside your chest. "Do you do this with everyone, Angel? Do you spread your legs for strangers every night?"

"No," she gasps, tilting your face up and bringing you in for a kiss. "Just you," she moans against your lips, "only you."

The fire inside your chest burns. "Good."

Her walls clench around you, mouth wide open as she moans loudly. You force her mouth shut, pressing your palm against her lips, her eyes widening before they roll to the back of her head. Your thumb slides on her clit in tight circles, fingers curling to touch her sweet spot. She bites down on your knuckles, desperately chasing her orgasm, arousal dripping down her thighs. You add a third finger, stretching her tight pussy, and spread them inside.

"Come for me, Angel," you rasp, pushing deep inside. She cries out, squeezing around your fingers as she comes. She curls into you, hiding her face in the slope of your neck. "Good girl," you praise, kissing her temple, your fingers buried inside her wet heat.

There's a loud knock and a gruff voice sounds from behind the door. "Everything alright, Angel?"

She sits up, eyes wide and alert, and looks at the clock near the door. Your private session ended ten minutes ago.

"I- I have to go," she scurries away, putting on her bra on her way to the door.

"Wait," you call out, catching her wrist before she could touch the handle. "Stay, please."

Her eyes flicker to your lips before she throws herself at you, hands around your waist, kissing you with fervor. You press her against the door, trailing kisses all over her neck, wishing you could leave marks for her to remember you by.

There's another knock and a threat to break down the door. Angel pulls away with one last peck before disappearing behind the door.

The rest of the week goes better after that night. You feel like the burden that's been sitting on your shoulders got smaller, granting you more hours of sleep and allowing you to look your boss in the eye without feeling inferior. You can't help but think back on the girl that so easily brought this change on you. Sometimes when you're caught up in paperwork in the late hours of night you catch yourself wishing you were back in that private room, looking at her instead of some boring corporate nonsense. Your fingers squeeze around the pen with need to touch her again, to unravel her, to savor her taste.

On a Friday night you decide to leave the office early and head to the club, but a phone call stops you in your tracks.

"Hey, hope I'm not interrupting."

You smile, always happy to hear from your friend. "You're not, I'm… heading home early."

"Great. Perfect, actually. I know it's a bit last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight? I'm making your favorite." Sam asks, and you can hear the sound of pans hitting the stove in the background.

"What's the catch, Carpenter?"

She groans, and you can almost see her slouch against the counter. "I'm not sure if I mentioned it, but Tara is studying to be a lawyer, and I thought maybe you could give her some pointers over dinner?"

You blink, surprised by the question. In two years of your friendship with Sam you've never met her younger sister. Even though they're living together, she's never home when you're over, working double shifts to afford tuition, adamantly refusing Sam's offers to help. She likes to complain about it from time to time, but you can see she's proud of the younger girl.

Angel will be there tomorrow, and you're actually excited to finally meet Tara. It doesn't take long for you to decide which way to go. You make a quick stop at a grocery store on your way there, buying Sam's favorite beer and a bottle of wine, thinking about offering her sister an internship. If she's even half as brilliant as Sam you want her on your team once she graduates.

When you finally knock on the door, expecting to see Sam on the other side, you feel wind get knocked out of you when the woman you've been thinking about since you left the club opens it.

"... Angel?"

_______________

Thoughts?

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

-----

“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself—sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you—but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himsel. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

-----

for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[gffa]

Disney, hire me as your Attachment Advisor, I will shove so many George Lucas quotes at your producers and writers, I will shove so many context-laden clips from the movies and TCW at your creatives, I will make powerpoint essays about how it's more Buddhist-aligned, not Attachment Theory-aligned, I will cite literally every time attachment has ever been discussed by Lucas AND in the show itself and show you that it's always aligned with fear, possessive feelings, and selfishness, I will do this work for you for free, I can even literally just point you to my Jedi Citations collection, DISNEY, HIRE ME AS YOUR ATTACHMENT ADVISOR, I CAN HELP YOU.

Everything I saw in the show aligned perfectly with my view of what the Jedi mean by attachment from the movies (especially with Episode II). You fail to understand that George Lucas words outside of the movies mean shit. You cane have the largest collection of words that has come out of Lucas's ass and it still does not change the movies. Look at the poster for AOTC. A Jedi shall not know love. Obi-Wan speaks beautifully about the undercurrent of remorse he feels for not being able to have an attachment with Satine because he lives by the Jedi Code which forbids it.

You people are so delusional.

Hi! You are so right bestie it has been way too long since I've talked about my love for Mace Windu! You are so right to have brought this up and I will meet your challenge! He is the Force's strongest soldier because the absolute nonsense he has to put up with every day, as someone who deals with the rest of the Council being hilarious assholes, who deals with Kenobi and Skywalker's nonsense, who has Yoda as a friend, and yet he seems to genuinely like all of these people?? Even when they're bonkers?? My man is stronger than I could ever be.

Not to mention, he goes on a whole ass mission with Jar-Jar, has to watch him make out with his girlfriend, the queen of the planet who told falsehoods about your family, and you have nothing but patience and kind words to say about them, and you only roll your eyes a little at Jar-Jar's antics, something even Padme does and she's worked with him even longer than you have, and by the end, you're friends with him, you like him and would probably hang out with him again if the chance arose???? Mace Windu is on ANOTHER LEVEL from what I would have done in his position!

And he's a former theater nerd! "The Council's gain was the theater's loss." Jocasta Nu says about how he didn't have time for it anymore after he got so busy with the Council, like can you IMAGINE Mace Windu doing plays? I want to know sooooooo bad how Jedi plays are different from non-Force-sensitive people's plays, I want to know what kind of cool effects they create with the Force, I want to know if they use their psychic empath abilities to literally connect with their audience! I want to know DOES MACE WINDU HELP THE YOUNGLINGS STAGE CUTE LITTLE PLAYS IN THE CRECHE? BECAUSE I BET HE DOES.

Because that man is so good with kids! Remember that Star Wars Adventures comic where he was so gentle and sweet with the little Twi'lek girl? Reaching down to help her up, smiling openly at her, walking with her back to her village to make sure she was safe, talking with her to make sure she understood how important and valuable she was in the galaxy? Because I'm still not over that!

His relationship with Anakin in canon is pretty great, too, like, yeah, Anakin should take a seat and stop borderline pitching a fit about getting a rank he didn't earn, and Mace still offered to believe him, despite that Anakin had accepted Palpatine's forcing the Council to put him on it. He still trusted Anakin to help him in that fight against Palpatine! Plus, oh, man, their banter on the Endurance when they're teaching the cadets? That was such good-natured teasing, that was exactly the kind of banter Anakin would have had with Obi-Wan, and by the end of that whole fiasco (do you ever think about when Anakin was in danger and Mace yelled, "Anakin!" and desperately yanked him to safety, because he was worried about him? because I think about that a lot), Mace complimented Artoo by saying he saw what Anakin saw in him, that he was complimenting Anakin at the same time? Or pretty much EVERY interaction between Mace and Yoda is absolute hilarity, the side-eye they give each other, the teasing Yoda does when Mace is on a mission with Jar-Jar, the way Mace holds his hand out in the comics for Yoda to springboard off of into the middle of a fight? ICONIC FRIENDSHIP, I WOULD TAKE A WHOLE NOVEL ABOUT IT, DISNEY.

Or that time even AT THE END OF THE CLONE WARS, like they are just a MONTH out from Revenge of the Sith, if that, and Mace is STILL trying to get the droids to stand down, that he's destroyed thousands of them, none of them have listened, but he's still trying, offering them a better life away from the war, a purpose again, even if he knows it probably won't work, that man still believed in compassion for anyone and everyone. Like, baby Boba Fett TRIED TO KILL HIM and Mace STILL argued for leniency and rehabilitation, rather than jail, because he saw a young child who was hurting and he wanted better for him. He was direct with Boba, he didn't try to befriend him, Boba would never have accepted that, but he told him, you're going to have to get over your hatred for me, he says this for Boba's sake, not his own, because he knows what poison the desire for revenge is, look at the path it's already leading Boba down.

Or EVERYTHING WITH THE ZILLO BEAST, he tried so hard to rescue that poor creature, he fought the Senate so hard, he was so gentle with the hand he carefully pressed to its face, even when the Zillo beast was dangerous, even when it had attacked them and could so easily kill more, he wanted leniency for it, he wanted to save it because he understood where it was coming from.

Or EVERYTHING WITH PROSSET DIBS, that guy tried to murder him, was ranting about how he would dance on their graves or whatever, and Mace looks at him and says, we need to help him, it's our duty to help him find the light again. And his big punishment is literally just library duty, because when Mace can decide the outcome, that guy always goes for helping people, always goes for the option that would bring them back to the light.

Even as a young Padawan, his greatest struggle was to temper his anger, which was sparked because PEOPLE WERE BEING HURT by the false prophet on Mathas, he was angry because he saw how many people were suffering and the people in charge just let it happen, his heart hangs heavy when he witnesses people in pain, because Mace Windu deeply, deeply cares about the people in the galaxy.

He cared about civilians, he cared about clones, he cared about his fellow Jedi, he didn't have to be bouncy or super smiley to show that, either. It was in every action he took. He cared so much.

And, okay, yeah, he was COOL AS HELL AND WOULD HAVE BEATEN PALPATINE'S WRINKLED ASS IN A FAIR FIGHT.

OR THAT TIME ON RYLOTH THAT WAS LITTERALLY THE COOLEST SCENE THEY EVER ANIMATED, THE SOUND DROP? THE ABSOLUTE BANGER PHYSICAL STUNTS MACE WAS CAPABLE OF? GODDAMN HE WAS SO GOOD.

AND LEST WE FORGET--CUTEST BB YOUNGLING EVER!!!!

[eupheme]

— cabin down below

dieter bravo x actress!f!reader

rated e - 1.8k

tags: cabining, co-stars-with-benefits, mentions of alcohol, references to sex and horror films, implied paparazzi trying to catch them together, oral sex

ahh nervous to post this (first time writing for him!) but excited about this gorgeous moodboard I recieved for Summer Lovin’ 24! 🏕️💖 thanks so much for hosting @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery!

Dieter really can talk you into anything.

The official table read is on Monday, scenes due to start shooting soon after. You really shouldn’t be thirty miles out of town right now - leaving the comforts of your apartment and the air conditioning of the limo, to hike another mile into the forest.

But you’ll trade the luxury for a chance to spend time with him. An old spot, he said. His dad’s cousin’s place, bought it off him when they needed the money. Been in the family for years.

“You gotta immerse yourself,” Dieter had told you, his arms spreading wide, “What better place to practice lines than here?”

It’s your first time in a movie with him. You’re not sure if he’s really a method actor. Equally not sure that it’s needed for a movie called Campground Carnage II - or if the city just seemed a little too loud, a little too busy.

Deep down, you hope it might just be an excuse to get you alone.

You'd be pretty alright with that.

It’s been hard to sneak around Los Angeles. There’s cameras everywhere. An obsession with one Dieter Bravo - the current hottest, most eccentric star.

You’d met before his last big break. Reading lines for Covert Affairs, but they had passed over the mutual chemistry for an actress with a little more weight to her name.

He had gotten the part, and you had gotten his number. Two desperate hookups when you both ended up in Vegas at the same time.

Only to come back together a year later.

“Long Island,” He had smiled, when he saw you, “Good to see you again.”

You had been surprised he remembered you, much less the drink he had bought. Enough alcohol in both your systems that you would’ve forgiven him if he had.

Not that you would have, though. Not with that mouth of his.

Something that you’re thinking about now, as the trees clear. The cabin tucked between them - a peeking sliver of a river cutting through the terrain behind it.

A cozy little thing, not much bigger than the apartment you’re missing. Built with thick wooden logs, two tidy windows out front, the checkered curtain pulled shut.

The key ring twirls on his finger, as Dieter moves ahead to unlock the door.

You can’t help appreciating the view, as he does. This ‘camping’ look suits him. It’s almost enough to make you a little jealous of his ability to look good in anything and everything he throws on.

A tight black tee, the hat that’s pulled down over his messy curls. Featuring an embroidered trout, with “fish want me, women fear me” scripted above and below that he found at a garage sale. Patterned crocs with matching shorts that only reach mid-thigh.

And you're at least 45-percent sure the fanny pack around his waist is filled with condoms and KitKats.

It’s been hard to keep your mind off him, on the drive over. Battering his wandering hands away, with the driver only a few feet from you. Still shy, both enthralled and not used to his open affection.

Trying to concentrate on the script. Preparing to run lines, just in case his suggestion for this weekend wasn’t some kind of euphemism.

But you kept going back to a particular scene. The two counselors - that’s you and him - sneaking off to one of the cabins in the campground.

A steamy encounter involving both the top and bottom of a bunk bed, and a lot of Bravo on his knees. Anything to showcase his physique, you’re already picturing how they’ll stage it with the female gaze in mind.

Bare back, you’re guessing. A hint of ass, but still tasteful.

The scene a fake-out - featuring a jump scare, with the shadow of a person passing by the windows behind you. Tapping into that classic trope - first to fuck, first to die.

Which might be true - if it was his first movie.

He doesn’t actually make it to the end, though. Dieter’s demise coming from a staged accident in the fishing lake, just as the movie lulls into a sense of safely. One final blow before the big reveal.

You know people will be pissed about that. As a fan of the series, even you are a little.

But the thought of having a scene with him - there is a flicker of excitement, that dulled heat in your belly - even though you know that logically, it will all be purely professional.

It’s still fun to imagine.

The door cracks open, but there’s something else with the sound. You frown, your head whipping towards the woods behind you. Searching for the source of the noise, one that sounded a little too familiar.

“Did I just hear a camera click?”

“Nah,” Dieter shrugs, “There’s no way they know about this place.”

"Yeah,” You hum, giving another glance. There’s nothing but the rustle of trees, the rush of the water. A self-conscious laugh, as you head inside, “Maybe I’m immersing myself too much.”

“No hauntings or serial killers here, sweetheart.” He smiles, “But if you’re scared I have a few ideas to get your mind off things…”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Your eyebrow arches, “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Dieter pretends to think, as he advances on you. Hands reaching out to trace up your sides, pulling you flush against him.

“Can think of a scene I’d like to start with,” He husks, eyes darkening, “There’s no bunk bed here, but I think we can make do.

Hunger flares in you, now that you're alone. Your eyes dip to the curl of his mouth, no more than a breath before you’re pressing your lips to his. A rough moan as his hands slide up your back, his tongue already brushing across your lower lip.

Tasting sweet when they part for him, your own moan swallowed as you lose your grip on your bag, letting it tumble to the floor.

It’s always so easy to get lost in him. If you’re not careful, you might just get swept away.

“You don’t want to see what the directors have in mind?” You tease, when you pull back for a breath, “Hold off on that scene until later?”

“No can do.” Dieter groans, as he pulls you back to him, “Not with you looking like this.”

You can’t help the smile, as you start the stumbling journey through the main room, wandering hands and the press of mouths.

His hand grasping your ass as your fingers slip under his shirt - the other reaching for the door he has you backed up against. A creaking swing, as it opens.

Dieter’s hands are at your hips, as soon as the back of your knees hit the bed.

“Let me taste you, baby.” It’s mumbled against your lips. His fingers dipping beneath your waistband. A nail tracing the edge of your underwear, raising goosebumps, “Been thinking about it all day.”

You remember this from before. How focused he gets. Willing to beg, shameless, if there’s something he wants.

And you’re always willing to give.

The bed is soft - covered in worn buffalo-checkered sheets - as you let yourself be lowered onto it. His hands catch your ankles, tugging you down until your legs drape off the edge.

Spread wide, so he can fit between them as he kneels. Batting your hand away as you go to push down your shorts.

“I wanna do it.” He hums. His own shorts already pulled tight, a hand coming to palm himself in anticipation.

Your hips lift for him. Nails bite into skin, grasping fabric and pulling down both layers. Easing them around the bulk of your gym shoes so his palms can press into your thighs, spreading them even wider.

A rough noise, when he sees you.

“You been thinking about this too, babe?” He coos, a thumb pressing against your slit. Rolling against the wet gleam of your center, as it betrays your desire.

You huff, the muscles in your legs flexing. Breath held as your eyes flit up to his, waiting. Watching, as he sucks your slick from his skin with a groan.

“Bet you were. Saw you eye-fucking me in the limo, all while telling me to keep my hands to myself.”

"I-I," You try to answer. To protest - to say you weren't - but his palms are smoothing up your skins. Distracting, as he slowly moves.

Those eyes focused on yours as his head tips. An open-mouthed kiss to your knee, then thigh. Moving up, as your heart races.

Inner thigh, now.

"Dee," There's a buck of your hips, with your whine, “Don’t tease.”

It’s futile, you’re certain. Unable to take what you dish out. But perhaps he’s been pushed too far as well.

“Tell me you need it.” His pupils are blown-wide, drunken already.

It’s easy to answer.

“Please. I need you.”

The next kiss is right against your slit. Messy, as his mouth covers you. Your fingers twisting in the blanket, as your knees press against his shoulders.

He’s too good. Teasing with the wet brush of his tongue. The slow creep of his fingers, the tip of one pressing against your entrance - only to withdraw just as you clench down.

Again, and then again. Slowly sinking into you, one knuckle at a time. Working you open, until you’re stretched wide around three of them - too full to form words.

“Don’t need direction for this,” His eyes flip to yours, a dimpled smile as his fingers sink deep and then curl, “Do I, baby?”

He does it again, as your answer pitches high. Your hips bucking into his touch as his tongue licks at you again. Timing it so that the point of his tongue teases your clit, each time his fingers rub against the spongey spot inside you.

He’s going to make you come. You’re too wound up, too needy for him.

“Fuck, Dieter.” You keen - your leg hooking over his shoulder, “Oh fuck, keep doing that-“

“That’s it baby,” He grins, “Improvise for me.”

It makes you laugh, which has him groaning as you tighten around his fingers. His left hand dropping to push down the waistband of his shorts. Fingers pulling from you only long enough to smear your arousal on his cock, to pump his fist until he’s covered.

It’s then that you think you hear it again. Just as his tongue slips inside you. Another mechanical sound from outside, just barely audible through the wooden walls.

“Dee,” You moan, fingers twisting in his hair. Either to pull him closer or push him away, you’re not sure, “I d-definitely heard-”

“Can’t see in here.” It’s mumbled out, gasped between your thighs.

He’s seen to that, at least. The blinds thick, the bedroom tucked away.

A grin, as his tongue flattens - licking from hole to clit, “Wasn’t planning on leaving, anyways.”

You trust him, knowing he wouldn't leave you vulnerable. The sound in your throat is muffled as your teeth clench, “But they-, what if they hear us?”

It’s only now that his head lifts, those dark eyes blown wide. Paired with a lazy smile, his lips shining as they stretch wide.

A soft croon.

“Then I guess you’d better be quiet.”

Your laugh turns into a soft groan, at the flick of his tongue. Self-conscious perhaps, but not wholly and entirely deterred by the thought of an audience.

Not when you’re with him.

“Keep that up,” You manage - as something molten floods through your belly, “And you might have to help a girl out.”

His weight presses into you as he moves up - heated, bare skin as he settles between your thighs. Dieter’s nose skimming your throat, as his hand slips between your thighs.

Just before his mouth presses to yours, swallowing you moan.

“That, baby… I can do.”

just wanted to try something fun 🏕️ thank you so much for reading! and thanks again for this awesome event!

[godbirdart]

Looking at your recent commissions, those backgrounds are soo pretty!! Do you have any tips for backgrounds? I always struggle with them :>

aAA many many thanks!!

backgrounds can absolutely be a struggle but they don't have to be! they just require a little more creative planning~!

whether it be a commission or a personal drawing, if I'm building an elaborate art piece i focus on establishing the background First.

the background is the stage for your character! planning the background first will make it easier to tailor the character's actions and how they interact with the environment around them.

planning the background first can be the difference between your character standing awkwardly front and center with the setting going on behind them, or actually participating in their environment.

if i'm super stumped for background ideas, i browse stock image sites to get inspiration. sometimes it helps to doodle on an image to generate some ideas - kinda like you're playing with JPEGs like dolls.

that said - while i'm pinpointing WHAT i want to draw, i keep the ideas loose. i don't want to focus on the itty-bitty details until i've got the overall aesthetic and layout in mind, as i might get inspired to add something in later!

THUMBNAILING

if you're planning a big piece it can be helpful to break it down into something bite-sized before you go all in and start lining or painting. these are "thumbnails" - fast little sketches that establish the scene in a way that doesn't consume a lot of time or effort. it's also great as a little perspective exercise as a treat.

here i decided i want to draw a character walking home in a back alley street. with these photo references in mind, i can plan a layout and how the character will act in the scene. is this a candid shot? are they posing cutely? are they looking down at us in a tense way? there are many ideas to be had!

after you've chosen the layout / vibe for your idea, you can scale up your thumbnail to your preferred canvas size and start fleshing out the details. be sure to keep referring to your reference images to get additional ideas, such as storefronts, items, props etc!

3D MODELS

If you're trying to create a unique environment that photo references simply cannot help you visualize, 3D models exist! This gives you that ability to rotate / scale things for better visualization. Clip Studio has a vast catalogue of 3D models to download For Free that you can fiddle around with. i know there are many 3D builder sites out there as well, though i've never made use of them so i'm afraid i cannot recommend any off the top of my head. hell, you can even use the Sims game to design a setting and go from there!

also if anyone is going to come into my house and say 3D models are cheating: they are not. using a 3D model to better grasp an angle or get a better idea for perspective is not cheating. using 3D models to help plan the environment in your art is not cheating. they are no different than brushes; these are tools made to HELP YOU. use them!

PERSPECTIVE

perspective and angles can make a HUGE difference in the art piece. there's nothing wrong with static long shots! if that's what you want to draw, do it!! there's no right and wrong here!

but if you're finding your work to be a little robotic and stiff, slap an angle in there. consider an overhead view. these same techniques are applied to photography and film! nothing wrong with wide shots, but every once in a while it can help to throw in a dutch angle.

if there is one note i'd like to leave off on, it's that your backgrounds do not have to be 100% accurate-to-life to be Good. unless realism is something you're really striving for in your style, don't feel compelled to nitpick every brick and leaf in your art. us artists can tend to over-prune our work until our art looks a little bare and soulless. flaws can give your work character, and that's often a lot more appealing than how accurate the scale ratio between background building A and building B are [again, unless you WANT to go for that realistic look then you can fuss over those details all you like].

i hope this helped a little! MY APOLOGIES FOR MAKING IT SO LONG AH

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Sex Tape: (prompt list here)

(part two of these 'recording' headcanons)

- After the heart-warming success of his first accidental intimate recording with you, Stephen would find himself revisiting that tape over and over again. Any time you have to leave him for a weekend alone, out comes his little camcorder so he can eagerly relive that special night and try his best to make up for missing your touch that night.

- But as much as he loves that precious gift you left him, he can't help but want to make a new one, something you both create together and maybe even equally could enjoy together on another night. He wouldn't be able to ask out right though, instead he'll drop a dozen tiny hints, mostly about how much he loved that first tape, and how incredibly beautiful you look when he's making you feel good, and how much he loves you, and loves having that precious memory documented to relive over and over.

- You'd of course give in to his less than subtle suggestions pretty quickly, his response to your video just the sweetest thing you could have imagined, and feeling so safe with Steven that you don't have a single worry about that footage going anywhere, or looking less than perfect, or anything like that because you know that man respects and worships every cell of your being.

- You pick a date for your very special date night, picking out a new set of lingerie for the occasion (and because it's so fun to surprise Steven with something new and watch his little brain immediately melt down to a mumbling mess.) By the time you get to his flat there's more candles lit than in a cathedral, and he's spent a week's pay of a very special bottle of wine that you once got as a present and so generously shared with him, on a night you two passed giggling sweet nothings to each other.

- After a glass of that sweet thoughtful gesture you two find yourselves all hands again, so giddy with excitement as you stumble towards the bed that you almost forget to turn on the camera, Steven reluctantly pulling himself away from your lips just long enough to oh so kindly ask,

"Love, are you sure you're alright with this? We don't have to if you're worried at all, I'm just so grateful that I even have one video of you. Or that I get to do this with you at all." You cut him off before he can start monologuing about what a privilege it is to be in your life in any role, the lovestruck man staring at you with stars in his eyes, so in awe of everything about you.

- You suitably reassure him that you feel just as lucky to love him, and finally you start the camera filming, pulling him towards you until you're confident he's framed in the shot, slowly moving your lips to his neck. As you lick and kiss your way along his throat, drawing soft strangled sighs from the nervous boy, your fingers trace down his shirt and start pulling it at his buttons one by one, until finally you can push it off his shoulders and reveal his broad chest to you and the camera. You can't stop yourself from running your hands over his muscles, looking forward to rewatching this moment and stopping Steven from folding inwards or hiding himself from the camera. You can tell he's still up in his head a bit, not as passionately exploring your form like it holds the secrets to the universe the way he usually does.

- Trying to draw his focus, you tip him back on to bed and climb on top of him, pulling your dress over your head and giving him a full view of the special outfit you had on underneath. His jaw drops and his eyes practically shoot out of his head as he starts excitedly babbling about how 'truly perfect you look' and how 'every colour seems to have been made for you', and suddenly his stage fright is forgotten and he's pulling you back in for a kiss as his fingertips trace along the lacy fabric, before slipping underneath your panties and rubbing slow circles against your clit. You find your hips moving in time with his rhythm, the excitement of knowing Steven would be able to watch this moment again enough to heighten the sensations. As your temperature starts to rise and your thighs start to twitch you make a point to arch your back and gasp out his name for the camera, immediately earning a groan from Steven as he starts to buck against your hips.

- You pull his fingers out of you with a whimper, and make quick work of undoing his belt and sliding his pants down his legs until his manhood springs free, letting you take a long slow lick of him that has Steven panting and begging for more. As you slip your lingerie to the side, mounting his lap and hovering just above his leaking tip, you notice his eyes drift behind you, the red blinking light pulling him back to reality from his throws of passion.

- Less than pleased that Steven is able to look anywhere but up adoringly at you, you slam your hips down against his, taking his full length in one breath and clenching down on him at the deliciously full feeling of having him buried inside of you. Right on cue his turns his attention back to you, gazing up at you in shock as you cup his face in your hands and state very clearly in your most seductive pur,

"Now Steven, the least you can do is keep your eyes on me."

"I'm sorry love, I just remembered about the - but it doesn't matter, I promise, I only want to look at you." Taking mercy on him, you start to roll your hips, before you finish your negotiations,

"That's good to hear, because any time you look at that camera, I'm going to stop moving." You pause your riding in emphasis as his gaze turns pleading, nodding quickly and begging you to move, promising to be good as you go back to sliding your hips against him, drawing out louder and louder groans that start to fill the room around you. You watch as his eyes trace along your content face, your bouncing chest, your wiggling hips, and finally your glistening entrance where he can see himself glide in and out of you, your own excitement dripping onto him with each thrust. It's almost too much to take and he feels his climax quickly approaching, his fingers returning to strum against your clit as he tries to hold off his release. Then his eyes dart behind you for a split second and suddenly his building pleasure starts to drop as you still your hips, desperate apologies falling from his lips in a plea.

"I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to, please keep going, you feel so incredible..." His core is aching with the tension bubbling inside it, so close to release and having no choice but to let you sit there on his throbbing erection until you see fit to forgive him. Luckily for him it's very hard to act mad at those puppy dog eyes, and when his touch feels so good between your thighs you know you won't be able to hold off much longer either.

- "I just need you to keep those beautiful eyes on me okay Steven?" You sound merciful, and he lets out a sigh of relief, until you add "and definitely don't let them close."

He's about to ask what you mean when suddenly you start bouncing on him with every ounce of strength in your thighs, riding him faster and harder as you feel him start to tense beneath you. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours, mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy as he watches the confident smile on your face start to fall into an o as you get closer and closer the edge. He works you with his fingers, holding back his own climax and praising you as you climb higher and higher, finally crying out his name as your wall clench around him, your whole body shaking with the overwhelming release as pleasure washed over you. Steven is right behind you, his hips lifting up off the bed as he erupts inside you, legs trembling and hands clutching at your waist, making sure you can't possibly climb off of him.

- You collapse against his chest, resolved to spending a little longer with him deep inside you, Steven's arms only coiling around you tighter as he presses soft kisses to your forehead and pants out that he loves you so bloody much.

- It takes a little while for either of you to get up to turn off the camera, Steven finally volunteering to leave the bed, only to grab the camera of its stand, step back towards you, aiming the lens at your satisfied face before letting it drift down your spent body, stopping when he sees his own load drip out of from between your legs and feeling himself start twitching with excitement again. The last sound the camera picks up is Steven mumbling quietly to himself, "how did I ever get this lucky?"

[ashtavula]

Regarding your Housewardens with idol s/o fic

It's a pretty well known fact that Kalim is good with playing the drums, so I can only imagine him begging his s/o to play in their next concert so they'd be together on stage

...now I'm thinking about all of pop music club begging to play with you! So I hope you don't mind me adding them too!

Kalim, Cater, and Lilia performing with an idol s/o

Kalim:

-It started when your drummer called out sick, and couldn't show up for practice. Kalim was quick to offer his assistance, and he did a great job. One practice session turned into two, then three while you all waited for your usual drummer to recover. But once he does, Kalim begs you to keep him on the band. He loves the feeling of helping you perform, and he really wants to actually go up on stage with you. Kalim clings to you, pouting and whining and showing you his best puppy eyes. You eventually relent, stating that he can be your drummer for one show.

-Well, that's what you said, anyway. But Kalim ends up drumming at quite a few of your concerts. He always thought that cheering with the rest of the crowd was fun, but he likes performing with you even more. Your fans always spot him mouthing along with the lyrics and bobbing his head up and down as he skillfully bangs away at his drums, thoroughly immersed in your energy. And when you glance back at him after a song, Kalim always flashes you a bright grin as he mouths out the words, "I love you."

Cater:

-He initially wasn't interested in actually playing with you, but he likes talking shop with your guitarist. The two of them sometimes goof around, going back and forth about the instrumentals for your songs. The rest of the band likes Cater, too. They all like Cater enough to ask him to temporarily replace your guitarist when the poor guy breaks his wrist. It takes a bit of cajoling from you, but Cater comes around to the idea. It's just for a few shows, right?

-Wrong. Cater didn't anticipate just how much he'd love getting to watch you from his spot on the stage. He gives you the softest smiles while he strums on his guitar, his foot tapping along to the beat. He really wants to take a few pictures of you like this, just so he can look back at how cute you are from his point of view. Fortunately for him, he can just station some of his clones in various spots to get some snapshots. And once the show is over, he hopes you'll agree to take a few more pictures with your favorite guitarist.

Lilia:

-Lilia's been begging for a chance to get on stage with you ever since he realized that you were an idol. He thinks it'd be ridiculously fun to perform with you. Especially if you let him sing with you! You've had to gently turn him down more times than you can count, since you're pretty sure that your manager would kill you if Lilia disrupted one of your performances. Despite your consistent refusals, Lilia still likes to hang around during practices, plucking on the strings of his bass guitar. And when your bassist suddenly gets held up in traffic right before a performance, you have no choice but to hope that your batty boyfriend can fill his shoes for the night.

-Turns out that Lilia gets serious when he's performing with you. Sure, he's grinning like a maniac and mouthing along to the lyrics, but he plays the bass perfectly for you. And he hypes up your fans too, silently encouraging them to cheer even louder...and encouraging their cries for an encore. Now that Lilia has gotten what he wanted, he just gets worse about wanting to perform with you. He openly laments that you don't love him when he doesn't get invited to practices, and then he shows up anyway, moping as he holds his bass. At this point, you're better off letting Lilia play, if only to stop his melodramatics.

[howlingmod]

LIQUID SUNSHINE

summary - valk x reader , reader's also an idol .. smiles .. more valk pining than anything sorry

wc - i dunno ...

misc - very based on spltoon i wont even lie you are the ian bgm to his squid sistrs (< incomprehensible)

-Valk liked to keep a good eye on the music scene, seeing what everyone else was doing or if there were any new groups on the rise in crossroads- it's just exciting to him! He likes seeing how people innovate on trends and the styles that different artists bring to the table, and, from a business perspective, it's just good to know how the music scene's doing for flipside's sake ...

-He usually just kept an ear out on social media to see who everyone's talking about, and that's how he learned about you.

-You were a part of a band from one of the other regions, and apparently you guys were pretty popular there! He hadn't heard of you before, but it seems like you were just a well-kept secret, a hidden gem.

-It didn't take long for him to make plans to visit, see just how much of an idol you really were. He just wanted to make sure he got the full perspective, is all! (And, admittedly, he was just a little intrigued by some of the photos he seen ... he has eyes! Get off his case!)

-Needless to say, he was not disappointed. He made sure to visit when your band was supposed to be performing and he was decently surprised by the crowd that had formed. It was a smaller concert than he was used to (it's not easy being known by the grand majority of the inpherno ...), but everyone there seemed totally enthralled and happy to be there. You guys definitely had a big reputation for yourselves here, he was honestly a little sad it'd taken this long for him to find out about you guys ...

-Once the show was over, he made sure to try and talk to you all. He had to be careful about it, keeping his head down and sticking to the edges of the room, but he managed to get close without being recognized. After he quietly thanked the Heights for it being a night show (he wouldn't have been able to see the stage before getting someone shouting his name if it was daytime), he made his way over to you.

-You all seemed to be about even in popularity, none of you seeming particularly shafted or overhyped by your fans, but you'd been the one he heard about the most. (Though, that probably wasn't true. He probably heard about all of you the same amount and just paid the most attention when you were being focused on. Woops.) So, he figured it was only fair he tried talking to you.

The diguise he hastily threw together felt just a little silly now. Sure, it'd worked pretty well so far, but he was really starting to doubt that it would work up close like this. I mean, it's not exactly easy to hide horns like his and his fake voice-persona-mix was really starting to fall apart.

"Where'd you say you're from?" Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Crossroads, I just wanted to see one of your guys' shows in person, they seemed pretty fun from everything I saw online," he answered honestly, smiling in a gesture you returned with your own. "Aw! I really hope you liked it then, I hope we were worth the travel..." "Oh, for sure! You guys are super talented! You've got such a unique style, I can definitely see how you pull such a big crowd." Ok, maybe he was laying it on thick, but he was being genuine! He was impressed! Whatever! You laughed at that, shifting in place and glancing off to the side, face feeling warm. "Thank you, I'm just glad people like our work, we put a lot of effort into it." He hummed in response, a mix between acknowledgement and shared opinion. Clearly, even if you two had very different scenes, you were still pretty alike, at least in how you viewed your work. A silence fell after that, just barely ebbing into uncomfortable before he shot up. "Oh, I totally forgot!" He started fumbling for something in his bag before hastily pushing over a vinyl he'd got before heading over here and a market he'd thrown in his bag only a little shamefully, "Would you mind?" You smiled at him, gingerly taking it from his hands, "Not at all, who should I make this out to?" He blanched, biting the inside of his lip hard. He hadn't thought of a name, at all. He stammered, glancing around the room quickly for some answer. Pen was so boring, Poster was obviously a lie, and he's not even entertaining Chair. You snickered, just barely failing to bite it back, "I'll just keep it general." His eyes shot back to you, silently letting out the breath he'd been holding, "Yeah, that works. Thanks." You waved your hand dismissively, "It's nothing, don't sweat it." You handed the vinyl back over to him, meeting his gaze again. There was a glimmer of something he couldn't quite name, perhaps because he was a little distracted by just how pretty you looked in this lighting. Sure, you'd been killer on stage, but it was different seeing you up close like this. Maybe he should've invested in closer seats ... Before he could think to bite his tongue, he was talking again, "You ever think about collabs?"

-He had a different kind of pep in his step when he got back to crossroads. He seemed to be in a constant state of distraction, always thinking about something or other enough to risk walking into walls a few times now. Sometimes he'd say it was music, some bar that he was stuck on. Othertimes, he'd just shake his head and say 'nothing,' before going back to staring off into space. Dom could see right through it, and while he couldn't read his mind, he figured it probably had to do with that person he kept seeing on his phone.

-Valk wasn't sure of where to go from here. He'd seen one of your concerts, he'd talked to you, even figured out you guys were open to working with other artists! Curiosity satiated, right? So then why were you still taking up so much space in his mind, often entirely seperated from your band and music?

-Should he have asked for your number? No, that would've been creepy. He knows more than well how fans can be about that sort of thing. Should he have just told you who he was, then? Ugh, that sounded so full of himself. Flipside might be famous, but that doesn't give him a free friendship card for everyone ever. He was pulling his hair out trying to figure out what he was missing here, what misstep he'd taken, by the time another concert came up.

-This one was different, rather than being a concert he and Dom performed at exclusively, this one had people from all around inpherno perform. It was a big deal, one that he was usually giddy about for weeks before. Seems like he really had been awfully distracted with how it slipped his mind ...

-He didn't have much time to mourn, however, when he noticed your band's name was on the list.

Before the show, there was a red carpet sort of ordeal. Musicians would show up dressed to the nines, flaunting their identity and background through their dresswear for everyone to see. It gave the public some nice photos to look at and some introductions to lesser-known artists with some of the impromptu interviews that cropped up with all the paparazzi. Plus, it now gave Valk an opportunity to talk to you again. It was hard to pull off his usually casual and relaxed demeanor whenever he'd pass photographers by, not wanting to deal with some big ordeal if he looked as nervous as he felt. Maybe you'd already walked? Where would you be then? Heights, what if you'd all pulled out last minute? Maybe you wouldn't even wanna talk to him anyway, did you think he was overhyped? Ugh, that was a whole new thing to worry about. What if he came off as pushy?- Just as he started to spiral, he'd caught a glimpse of familiar horns. Quickly turning to look, he'd seen you standing off in one of the staff-only areas, seemingly fixing up your outfit with all the fluffing and smoothing you were doing. He started over, minding his pace enough to not run over and freak you out. Whatever planned conversation starter he had on his tongue fell flat when you'd looked back at him. Your stage-wear had been perfectly translated to the event, dressed up enough to draw the eye but still retaining your usual sense of style enough to not come off as tryhardy. In shorter terms, you were a showstopper, a heartthrob- if his own heart's aching, fast beat was anything to go off of. "You look nice," he managed lamely. You took the weak compliment in stride, smiling as your hands finally left your top alone, "Thanks! You don't look half bad yourself." He smiled back at you, noticably relaxing, "Are you nervous at all?" "I mean, a little, but I think everyone gets a little bit of stage fright," you hummed, "it's always a little nerve-wracking, you just get better at managing it." "Huh, yeah, I can see that.." "What about you, are you nervous at all?" You shot him a look then, smile just a tinge more wry this time around. He straighted back up, subconsciously shifting in place as he laughed. "Ah, well, a little. It's different performing in front of a more diverse crowd, usually you just have to worry about people who already like your genre, but here you've gotta think about the variety of tastes in the audience," he hummed, steadily growing more comfortable as he talked. He might not be the best at talking to people he wants to impress (when did he start wanting to impress you?), but he considered himself pretty strong in his business sense. The greater mechanisms of being a musician came to him easier than making connections beyong shared interest. You gave a little noise of acknowledgement in response, falling quiet as you thought over his words. He could just barely hear the distant white noise of crowds chattering a room over the buzzing lights in here, fixing his gaze on some scuff on the ground for fear of staring. You suddenly shot up as the silence began to drag on a moment too long, turning your head back to him, "I almost forgot. You asked me about collabs at my concert," you started shuffling around your [ purse / pockets ], "I don't know if you were offering or anything, but if you were ..." you trailed off, holding out a small slip of paper to him. He didn't respond for a few seconds, staring blankly at the paper in surprise. Eventually, he rembered how to move his arms and speak, reaching out to take the slip from you, carefully unfolding it to reveal digits. "You uh... recognized me then, I'm guessing." "You have a pretty memorable face." He sucked in a breath through his teeth, pointedly ignoring the warmth crawling up the back of his neck, "Ah."

[sencrose]

-- SAPPHIRE PASSION

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

tags: dubcon, extremely dubious consent?, idol AU, object insertion, pain, coercion, praise, masturbation, fingering, creampie

wc: 5.1k

a/n: i'm taking notes from underground jp idol culture, if you have any questions feel free to ask (would love to talk more about it despite my pretty shallow knowledge, i am begging actually). in short: chekis -> polaroids, oshi -> fave/bias, oshikatsu -> showing support for your fave. ao3 link with alot more notes here

summary: you're too eager to please, and Satoru's all too willing to take advantage.

Sometimes you wish you had a more socially acceptable hobby. It’s hard maintaining friendships when your days are constantly blocked out by concerts, when you spend all your money on chekis and oshikatsu goods. Whenever you try to explain, you’re met with looks of disgust and snide comments about how you’re throwing money into an endless pit.  

In terms of romantic prospects, it’s not like you can invite anyone over to your apartment either, cramped and covered in a plethora of merch that most people would find strange at best and downright creepy at worst. But that wish washes away as soon as you step to the front of the line.

”Oh look who’s back! How have you been?” Satoru beams with a smile that puts the sun to shame.

”I’m doing great, how are you?” you greet back, handing him your ticket.

“I’m doing great as well!” He gestures to the staff member to get ready to shoot. 

”What kind of pose do you wanna do this time?” he asks. 

”Can we do heart cat ears?”

”Oh, I don’t think I’ve done that before,” his hands press together to show his excitement, “how do you do it?” His eyes peer into yours, sparkling with anticipation.

You bend your index finger while keeping your middle straight and put them on top of your head, two halves of a heart placed to look vaguely like cat ears.

”Aw, that’s so cute! As expected of my cutest fan.” 

He says that almost every time you’ve met him. You’re sure he says it to all the other fans as well, but it never fails to send blood rushing to your face.

The cameraman counts down from three and the two of you get posed up. With a flash, the picture is taken. The film slowly slides out of the polaroid camera, and Satoru swiftly takes it, shaking a paint pen in his other hand to get ready to sign it.

”Did you enjoy the show today?”

”I did!” You exclaim, maybe a bit too excitedly as your voice squeaks unexpectedly. “It was amazing as always.” 

”Aw, that’s great. We’ve been working really hard, I’m so glad you enjoyed it.”  Satoru signs the polaroid while talking, decorating it with hearts. “What was your favorite part?”

“I don’t know, everything was so great…” you hesitate, attempting to collect your thoughts. Your nerves creep up on you, and you curse how this happens no matter how many times you’ve done this. Satoru simply nods to show he’s listening as he continues signing the polaroid.

“T-the new stage outfits are so gorgeous and they really make you shine,” you pause, trying to think of the other highlights of the night, hands gesturing in an attempt to expel your nervous energy, “but I didn’t expect you guys to perform the new single so soon, so that was a really pleasant surprise.”

“I’m glad you had such a fun time.” Satoru responds, finishing signing the polaroid with a dramatic flick of the wrist, signaling that your time together is coming to an end.

”I’ll be here to cheer you on for all your future work as well!”

“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then!” Satoru holds the polaroid gingerly, blowing on it to aid the drying paint. “Now remember, be careful, hold the picture by the edges so you don’t smear the paint.” 

“Of course.” You grab hold of the picture, holding it carefully by the edges as he’d demonstrated. 

“See you next time! Thanks for all your support!”

”See you next time!” You wave back. You take in the view of the polaroid, slowly developing, the smiles of you and your oshi permanently encapsulated in the thin film. Just looking at it puts a cheesy grin on your face as you make your way out of the venue.

After the paint has had ample time to dry, you place the picture in your wallet, in the transparent slot that’s usually reserved for your ID. This is more important anyways.

---

You must be losing your mind. There’s no way this is real.

You were adjusting all of your chekis, moving them between your mini photo albums. The most recent polaroid had something written on the back:

Text me sometime? xx-xxxx-5429

After finding this hidden message, you dug through the rest of the chekis you’ve collected over the years, only to find nothing. It’s just this one. When did he even get the chance to write this?

You can’t help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. Should you even message it? Are you willing to cross that line?

…

You are. You definitely are. 

---

you: hey, is this Satoru?

Satoru, maybe?: depends, is this my cutest fan?

Satoru, maybe?: with the heart cat ears? ♡ॢ₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

You slam your phone down on your bed in a panic, as if it’s been possessed by a demon. Your heart races as you grab on to your chest, attempting to inhale deeply to collect yourself before unlocking your phone and typing again. 

you: haha yeah

you: but wait, how do i know it’s you?

Satoru, maybe?: <1 attachment>

Satoru, maybe?: does this prove it?

You open the picture with bated breath only to realize it really is him. It isn’t a picture you recognize from his SNS accounts, considering he barely uploads anything to them. 

you: i guess it does :)

Satoru, maybe?: then i was wondering

Satoru, maybe?: did you wanna go out sometime? 

Satoru, maybe?: my treat of course

Alright, play it cool, take a deep breath. This does nothing to still your racing heart. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all. 

you: yes i’d love to!

Satoru, maybe?: awesome! are you free this saturday?

you: yeah i am! :)

Satoru, maybe?: cool, meet me at the station at 2?

you: sounds like a plan 

Satoru, maybe?: alright, see you then :)

you: see you then :)

---

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. 

You spent all morning agonizing over what to wear, and you can only hope that it was the right choice. You wait anxiously by the station exit, keeping your phone on standby for any incoming texts. 

“Hey!” Satoru approaches you, although heavily obscured. Baggy black hoodie and pants swallow his figure, along with a baseball cap, mask, and sunglasses covering his face. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.” He tilts his face down towards you so you can get a look at his eyes, and prove that it is indeed him – not that you need the evidence, you would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Oh no worries,” you smile nervously, noting just how close he is to you, “I just got here.”

“That’s great!” he says, punctuating the end of his sentence with a clap, “Well, let’s get going!” 

“Where are we headed?” You follow behind him, letting him lead the way.

“I thought a cafe would be nice.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “You like sweets?”

“I do!”

The two of you make your way to the cafe, engaging in casual small talk along the way. You feel like you’re walking on clouds alongside him, the distance between you so close that his hand occasionally grazes yours.

You find yourself in a quaint cafe hidden in an alleyway. It’s a hidden gem, you’d never find it without his recommendation. A quiet oasis in the middle of a bustling cityscape.

“They have really good pastries here. Feel free to get whatever you want.”

You look into the display case, dozens of artisan pastries and baked goods lined up neatly at your fingertips. 

After a moment of deliberation, the two of you order your food, an array of pastries, along with two coffees showing up at your table shortly after.

“I ordered some extras too in case you wanna try any of them.”

”Oh, thank you.” You reach towards what you assume is a chocolate croissant, ripping a piece off. It has a light crispy skin, melting in your mouth as soon as you take a bite. 

“Wow, this really is good.”

“Right? I love coming here.” Satoru exclaims, taking off some of his layers.

“Are you sure about that?”

”Yeah, don’t worry I come here all the time. Plus,” he says, gesturing to the empty tables, “Nobody’s really around.”

You already knew you were on a date with him, but it feels so much more real when his sunglasses and mask are off. You take in the sight of him and even under the dim lighting of the cafe, his beauty shines, almost blindingly so. You notice yourself staring a bit too long at his face, eyes shifting to the side.

”You can look all you want,” he teases, placing his hands on the back of his head as if he’s trying to show off, “I don’t mind.” 

You bring yourself to look at him again, but he has that award winning smile that has heat blazing a trail to your cheeks.

”So…” you trail off, unsure how to carry on the conversation. It’s one thing when you know you have two minutes in a controlled environment, it’s a whole other beast when you have all the time in the world. Any conversation topic that you’d usually keep slotted in your back pocket eludes you.

“You’re wearing a different outfit than usual. It’s cute.” Satoru picks up where you left off.

“Ah, I guess you’ve only seen me wearing merch at concerts, huh?”

“Yeah, but this is nice too,” he says before taking a sip of his coffee, “‘lets me see another side of you.” 

“I guess we’re both seeing different sides of each other.”

“Am I that different?”

“Maybe,” you pause, a hint of hesitance to your voice, “just a little.”

“What’s so different about me?” he asks, his chin leaning on his hand, tilting his head so he can show off his sharp jawline and the sparkle of his eyes with the sunlight shining through the window. Something about him seems just out of touch, like he’s hiding behind a mask. That said, it’s a beautiful mask.

“I’m not so sure,” you answer honestly. If you really put your head to it, he’s every bit as charming now as he is when he’s performing. Maybe even more so, but you’re not sure you have the guts to confess that. 

“You wanna know what I think is different about you?” he asks, his fork cutting a slice into his tart before pointing it at you, like an accusation of a crime, “You seem more nervous than usual.” 

“Am I right?” he asks, his voice dangerously low, before taking a bite of his tart. 

How could you not be? Your favorite idol is on a date with you of all people, and you’re well aware he’s well out of your league. 

“Yeah, you are,” you confess, eyes looking off to the side, unable to meet his gaze.

“Do I get a prize?”

“What do you want?” you ask awkwardly, shifting around in your seat ruminating on the possibilities. 

“What do you think?” He grins, his eyes tracing the features of your face until he lands on your lips. 

This might be the most forward you’ve been in your life. Time feels like it slows as you scoot your chair closer to his. With your eyes closed, you steel yourself, lips pouted, lean forward, closer — this is what he wants, right?

“Ah,” Satoru’s voice breaks your trance, “but I don’t wanna force you to do anything you don’t wanna do, that’s not fun.”

“O-oh,” you collect yourself, plopping back down in your seat a bit too fast, wishing you could curl up into a ball and disappear, “right.”

---

You messed up.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he just ghosted you after this. Maybe the rest of the date went fine, you’re not sure, too preoccupied with the embarrassment hanging over your head. Why did you try to kiss him?

The jingle of the door notes your departure and interrupts your spiraling thoughts as the two of you make your way back onto the busy street. The air shared between the two of you is stagnant, a clear cut contrast to the noises of the city. 

“Um, I had a lot of fun today,” you break the silence as you continue walking, “thanks for taking me out.”

“Of course! But it doesn’t have to end just yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could head back to yours?” he proposes casually, eyes meeting yours.

You look back at him, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as your grip on your bag strap tightens. Your gaze shoots nervously to the floor, staring at a crushed soda can that piques your interest for the moment. 

“I-it’s a bit messy,” you look back at him only to realize he’s staring right into you, “I don’t know if you would want-“

“I don’t mind a little mess,” he says, casually wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re not scaring me off that easily.” There’s a tone behind his words you don’t recognize, something that doesn’t seem quite as rehearsed or put together like his usual self. You try to find it in yourself to protest, but the words on the tip of your tongue melt away as Satoru looks at you with a burning desire behind his eyes.

“S-sure.”

---

You make your way back to your apartment, with Satoru following right behind you. 

“Make yourself at home.”

Your place isn’t actually that messy, but it is small, feeling even more cramped when it’s covered in an embarrassing amount of merch. You didn’t actually expect him to come over, so you didn’t make any preparations to make your room seem like that of a normal person. Promotional flyers, album posters, concert apparel, smother your walls without a speck of empty space to be seen. 

His eyes are drawn to the display shelf in the corner, fit with several can badges and acrylic stands of his likeness, customized light sticks, and a fan with his face plastered on it. 

“Must be a little weird seeing this, huh?” you attempt to joke, but your awkwardness is too candid to be hidden. 

“I don’t think so. It makes you even cuter in my book.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he states with a conviction that catches you off guard, “you mind if I take a look?”

“Not at all.” You gesture towards the case with your hands and a slight bow, a bit too formally for the situation at hand. “Go ahead.” You swear his eyes sparkle as he looks over the case before settling on one of the light sticks.

“Did you decorate this one yourself?”

“I did! It was before you released official light sticks.”

“That’s so sweet of you. Do you mind?” he points at the stick.

“Sure.” You open the case, reaching for the light before handing it over to Satoru. Once in his hand, he taps on the buttons, cycling through the colors until it turns a beautiful shade of blue.

“Wow, this shines pretty bright.” he comments, admiration glimmering in his eyes.

“I have to show my support from the crowd.” you say, waving your fist as if you’re holding a lightstick in your hand.

Satoru mimics the chant patterns you yell at his shows with an earnestness that has you grinning ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch him make a fool out of himself. He really is better suited to be on the stage. After a few moments of waving the light stick around he puts it down.

“God, your arms must be tired after doing this the whole show.” he says, holding onto his shoulder as he stretches. 

“I’m pretty used to it. If anything, it’s a great workout,” you say, raising your arm to flex the less than impressive muscle, “and you’re working out way more than I am!”

“Well with fans like you, I gotta be able to keep up.”

Before you know it, his face hovers dangerously close to yours. Your eyes meet his, an unreal crystalline blue you’ve never seen this close. His hand brushes against yours, fingers gently slotting into yours. His other hand caresses your chin with gentleness you’ve only dreamt of. Satoru brings his face towards you, sealing your lips with a kiss. The scent of vanilla and cardamom fills your lungs, a stark and welcome difference from the sweat and stale odor of the venues you usually see him in. 

It’s just a kiss, but you can feel yourself getting lost in his lips, heat building in your body as you press into him. He presses further into you with a fervor that overwhelms you as he wraps his hand around your waist. His kisses become more intense, like rain clouds swirling into a storm, asking, demanding for an entrance you’re all too willing to give him, parting your lips. The taste of coffee and sugar dance on his tongue, intoxicating like a spell, pulling you in further. Everything about him is overwhelming, the way his body is pressed flush against yours, his grip around your waist, how he maneuvers you closer to the foot of your bed until you fall gracelessly onto it. Satoru hovers above you, toned arms on either side of your head, white strands framing his face, eyes filled with lust. 

“Could you do something for me?” The question is simple enough, but you sense something darker behind his words. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but after that debacle at the cafe, you’re far too eager to please, to make amends in any way you can.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Show me how much of a fan you are.”

He places the penlight in your hand, wrapping his fingers against yours. His hand guides you to lift the hem of your skirt, the light now pressing against the fabric of your underwear.

“Would you do that for me?” he asks, sultry and sweet. 

Your breath catches in your lungs, face burning as if your cheeks are flint and he’s lit a match under your nose. The beat of your heart rings rhythmically in your ears, as you question if you heard his proposition correctly. Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“I-I haven’t done anything like this.” you say, not exactly answering his question, hoping he accepts your answer. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you every step of the way.” His fingers hook into the side of your underwear, sliding up and down your slit. “I’ll even help you get started.”

You’re at a loss for words, nerves paralyzing your tongue, only able to give him a shy nod. 

He continues playing with you, fingers finding your clit and drawing languid circles that are just a bit too slow. An unfamiliar tension grows in your core, begging for release.

“You really are my cutest fan.” he whispers in your ear, honey dripping off every word.

His finger teases your hole, slowly inserting to a shallow depth before taking it out. Your muscles squeeze in anticipation only for him to play with your entrance, rubbing against your folds before entering you again. Your hole envelops his finger as he pushes it in. He starts with a curl, his finger digging around as if he’s searching for something. Within a moment, he’s pressing against the spot that has you leaning into him, chasing for more. 

You can’t keep your satisfaction hidden, low gasps spilling from your lips as you realize your hips are bucking into him. His fingers build a steady pace, and you meet him there, desperately humping into his touch. 

“So needy, huh?” he teases before inserting another finger into you. It slides in without any resistance, a testament to your arousal. 

A warmth builds in your body, your breathing labored as he has his way with you. You melt under his touch, like putty in his hands. It’s a wasted effort to keep your voice back, volume rising as you bite back on your hand.

Satoru pauses for a moment, fingers slowly exiting as he admires your arousal on his hands. He reaches out for the penlight, bringing it towards your hole. The plastic presses uncomfortably against your slit, collecting your slick he slides it up and down your lips. Your heart feels like it’s beating in your throat, and a twinge of fear hits you when you realize you’ve never had something so large inside you. 

“S-Satoru, I’m not sure about this.” You hold his wrist firmly, an attempt to have him pause.

“Don’t worry, it’ll feel really good, I promise.” Satoru ignores your grip, slowly pushing the light stick into your hole, the object feeling foreign inside of you. The stretch is uncomfortable, cold unfeeling plastic separating your walls. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, or the intrusion inside your body, eyes darting across the room to look at something, anything else — a daunting task when his likeness is plastered all over the walls. 

“Just like this.” He brings your attention back to him, patient hand holding onto yours, gripping you as he slowly fucks you with the light stick. Your pussy envelops the light, blue sheen disappearing as he pushes it in more. With every thrust, you can see your arousal glossing the surface of the light stick. You don’t recognize it as the object of your affection, custom made for him. It’s molded into something else altogether, a vessel solely there to deliver a hot tension to your core. 

The discomfort from the stretch slowly dissipates, a flare of pleasure building in its place. It starts to feel less foreign as it warms up to the temperature of your insides. Satoru starts to pick up the pace, lewd squelches escaping your cunt with each pump.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he coos. His lips graze the nape of your neck, a subtle lick to test the waters, earning a high pitched squeal that comes out more like an excited moan. You feel him grin against your skin, kisses tracing a line towards your shoulder. You can’t deny yourself the heat that builds in your core, the way your breath hitches in your chest with every kiss, every drag of the light stick.

“Show me how good you feel.” His eyes watch intently as his hand lets go of yours. You continue fucking yourself with the light stick, free hand rubbing circles on your clit, desperate to soothe that building ache for release. Satoru watches intently, his hand stroking himself through the fabric of his pants. 

Heat rises in your face, in disbelief that you’re doing this in front of him — but he’s getting off on it too, a blush painting his face as he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock from his briefs. Satoru lifts the hem of his shirt before biting onto the fabric, revealing muscles you’ve only seen on stage in fleeting moments of fanservice. Even from those short glimpses, you knew he had a well-maintained physique, but it’s much more sinful when it’s mere inches away, for your viewing pleasure alone.  There’s something arousing about watching the image of your picture perfect idol falling apart as he loses himself in the throes of passion. He moans under his breath, desperate for release as he strokes his cock harder.

The view’s enough to send you over the edge, waves of pleasure washing over your body as you gush over yourself, walls fluttering and clamping onto the illuminated plastic. Satoru’s close behind you, soft moans escaping him as he cums, hot ropes of semen covering your pussy.

You’re barely able to gather yourself, chest rising and falling at an abnormal pace, a sheen of sweat covering your back, causing the fabric of your shirt to cling to you. Aftershocks of your pleasure shoot through you, phantom spasms clamping to the intrusion inside your cunt. Your walls clings to the light stick, feeling a bit of resistance as you pull it out. Your muscles shiver at its absence, core aching at the emptiness. The light flickers before turning off permanently. Guess it wasn’t waterproof.

Satoru chuckles as he collects himself, still out of breath from his orgasm. “Wow, you actually did it. Maybe the rumors about my fans are true.”

“What rumors?”

“They’re sluts.”

His words deliver a sobering realization that brings you down from your high and back to reality. Your face twists in embarrassment, blood rushing to your cheeks in a wicked heat. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re the first,” he purrs low, kissing the nape of your neck. You’re not sure you can believe him. “And for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed it.” 

“Look what you did to me,” he teases, stroking his hard cock, already raring to go. “Gotta do something about it, yeah?” His cock presses against your slit, slowly humping into it, his pre and your juices mixing together. The stimulation so close after your orgasm makes you shiver.

“You’ll do it for me, right?” His head tilts inquisitively as the tip of his cock hovers over your hole, moments away from penetrating. The size of his cock strikes fear in your chest. Even compared to the light stick, you can tell you’ll struggle to take him in. You’re not sure if you’re ready for something like this, but when he asks with that honeyed tone dripping from his words, you feel charmed to say yes. You want to make him feel good too, giving another hesitant nod blessing him with the permission he craves.

“Good girl.” With a swift thrust, he forcefully pushes himself inside you, an uncomfortable stretch building into a harrowing pain. Of course a light stick doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing. Everything about it is just too much. There’s just too much resistance, too much of him inside of you. You struggle to take him in as he presses in further, holding your breath in hopes of a relief that never arrives – just a fullness you’ve never experienced before. A pained hiss escapes you as he starts humping into you recklessly, air knocked out of your lungs with each thrust, without any regard for your comfort.

“Wait, S-Satoru, it hurts.” You’re barely able to get the words out between pained groans. You attempt to squeeze your legs shut, but it does nothing to soothe the pain or slow Satoru’s pace.

“But you’re making me feel so good.” He spreads your legs apart further, fucking you with slow but hard strokes. His hands grip onto your inner thighs, using it as leverage to push himself deeper inside you. The slap of skin only gets louder, a pain striking in your core as he hits your cervix. Any attempt to drive your attention away from the pain fails, only leading to your hands gripping onto the sheets, knuckles turning a blistering white. The cool and collected facade of your idol fades away to dust. You don’t recognize the man in front of you, all greed and desire, rutting into you searching for his own high.

”Satoru, p-please, it’s too much!” you plead, hand momentarily letting go of the sheets to push against his chest.

”C’mon sweetie, I know you can do it,” whispering in that sweet yet hollow tone that hasn’t left his lips since the moment you met him, not that it does much to soothe. His tongue licks the shell of your ear, a gasp escaping your lips. 

You attempt to power through, biting down on your lip and letting your favorite idol have his way with you, ravaging your pussy like it was made just for this, just for him. Tears swell in your eyes as you try to put on a brave face. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, clenching your eyes closed as you let out choked back sobs.

”Don’t cry, you’re being so good for me,” he says in an artificially sweet tone that now sounds alien, overplayed like a broken record. One hand gently pets your head before gripping onto your hair, only serving as a support for him to push himself deeper into you. 

“You’ll feel real good soon, I promise.” You’re not sure you believe him, not sure you can believe him until his hand makes its way to your aching clit. The graze of his fingers is already enough to have you keening into him. Little shocks of ecstasy shoot through your body as he finally slows down, his hand focusing more on the bundle of nerves. His other hand reaches up to your chest, fingers crawling under the fabric to play with your tits, kneading the flesh before catching your nipple between his fingers. With his aid, your body gets acclimated to his size, the burn from being stretched out subsiding and a dull but undeniable pleasure taking its place.

You don’t recognize this version of yourself, desperate for a high you’ve never even tasted, falling back onto base, primal emotions as you start to match his tempo, pathetically pressing your body into his. You don’t recognize the salacious moans spilling from your lips, the look in Satoru’s half lidded eyes as he watches you give in to your desire. 

”See, what’d I tell you?” he pants into your ear, warmth from his breath sending a shiver up your spine, “feels good, right?”

And you hate to admit it, but he’s right: it does feel good. Better than good even, heavenly. How his length fills you up so deep, the way your cunt anticipates him with each thrust, your walls slowly taking the shape of him. Any words on the tip of your tongue disappear without a trace, head too fuzzy and scrambled to form any coherent thoughts.

The tension in your body comes to a head, body tight as your muscles clamp around his cock like a vice, panting his name with a reverence fit for an idol. Pleasure shoots through every nerve of your body, head light and hazy with bliss as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands ball into fists as he teeters the line of overstimulation, a whisper of pain too quiet to be felt before it fades. Satoru’s close behind too, pace erratic as he moans a string of hushed expletives under his breath. He comes with a deep thrust inside you, warm sticky ropes of cum coating your insides.

Satoru takes a moment to catch his breath before removing himself from you. Cum spills out of your hole, and you wince at the emptiness. You both lie on the cramped bed, out of breath, sweat clinging to your bodies. A gentle yet unreadable smile paints his face, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“You really are my cutest fan.”

[sissylittlefeather]

Role Play Part 2: Clean or Dirty?

A/N: Well, I did it. I turned Good Cop, Bad Cop into a series 😂. So here's part 2! This one takes place in January of 1971 between Elvis and a fem!reader. This is intended to be pure fun, so I hope you enjoy it!

Here is the link to part 1.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also infidelity, he's definitely married

Word count: ~2.2k

After your romp with Elvis, you're pretty sure you'll never see him again, even though he seemed insistent that he'd find you. Still, you're surprised when a mysterious envelope shows up in your mailbox. When you get it inside and tear it open, you're absolutely shocked to find a plane ticket to Vegas and a ticket to Elvis's show at the International later in January. You dig through the envelope for some kind of letter, but all you find is a note that reads, "You pick the role play. -EP"

At first, you consider not going. He's married. But then you think about the way you felt when he fucked you, and even when he just looked at you. One more time wouldn't hurt anything, would it?

You look at the calendar and think about the arrangements that would need to be made to make it to the show. If you start now, you just might pull it off.

******

A few weeks later, you find yourself checking into your room at the still-new International hotel. Elvis has reserved a suite for you, so the bellhop brings your bag to the elevator and you make your way up. When you get to the room your jaw drops. The suite is enormous and decorated elaborately. You have a couple of hours before the show, so you get started on your hair and makeup. Once everything is perfect, you slip into the sequined blue and silver dress you've packed and head to the area where Elvis's concert will be. The usher takes you to a private table and you order a drink. You have a perfect view of the stage, which means he'll probably be able to see you too. You don't have much more time to think about it, though, because the music begins and the show starts.

You watch in amazement as he sings and dances and works the crowd in a way you've never seen before. About halfway through the third song, he looks to your booth and makes eye contact with you. Your heart leaps and he winks, smiling a warm, genuine smile. The show continues through the night and you're spellbound by him. He's incredible. And even if he doesn't come to you tonight, the trip will be worth it just to have seen him on stage. He winks at you a few more times throughout the evening, licking his lips flirtatiously and shaking his hips in your direction. Your heart skips every time and you feel yourself getting more and more turned on by the minute.

By the end of the night, you're really hoping that he will find his way to your suite at some point or you might have to take care of yourself. The wetness that's gathered between your legs is almost embarrassing.

******

When you get back to your suite, you make yourself a drink from the mini bar and sit on the couch. You're not sure how long you'll have to wait before he shows up, if he even does.

You look at the clock on the wall. It's almost 3am and you've already changed into the outfit you brought for your role play. You start to feel a little silly and just as you decide it's been long enough, there's a soft knock on the door.

Grabbing your prop, you go to the door and take a deep breath before opening it.

"Oh, Mr. Presley! You're home early!" You back up and let him walk into the room. His eyes travel slowly down your body, taking in your French maid costume, complete with white apron, lacy hat, and feather duster. "I haven't finished cleaning!"

You turn and bend over to dust the bottom of a table that's pushed up against the wall. His mouth drops open at the view of your ass peeking out from under your skirt. It's clear you aren't wearing any panties.

"I-I-it's fine. I can just hang out while you finish." You stand back up and he slides himself up behind you with his arms around your waist and looks at you in the mirror. "Y/n, honey, this is incredible."

He kisses the side of your neck just below your ear and you shiver.

"Don't break character."

"Yes ma'am." He unwraps himself from around you and makes his way to the couch to sit down. He's wearing a black suit with a yellow patterned shirt underneath, unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. Just the sight of him has you wet again, but you don't want to move too fast and ruin the illusion, so you continue to dust random things around the room, bending over periodically. He grunts and you see him adjust himself so that his cock is up under his belt.

Eventually, you make your way over to him and bend over directly in front of him. He sits forward and puts his hands on your ass. You jump up in false alarm.

"Sir! What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing, I just like the view." You giggle and go back to dusting, turning and acting like you're dusting something behind him. This puts your breasts directly in his face. He groans again and then places his hands on your hips.

"Sir?"

"You can call me Elvis." He whispers as he pulls you down to straddle his lap. You feel his hardness through his pants and your pussy clenches around nothing. "Do you mind if I touch you, honey?"

You smile demurely and bat your eyelashes.

"I work for you. I'm not sure it's appropriate." As you speak he leans forward and kisses your cleavage and then drags his tongue up to your neck where he kisses you again. "But if you're alright with it..." you answer breathily, not able to make anymore words.

He pulls your hips forward to roll into him as he nibbles on your earlobe.

"I'm alright with it. I wanna fuck you, y/n." You moan out loud with his words.

"I wanna let you." Without warning, he stands up and you wrap your legs around him to keep from falling. He holds onto your ass with both hands and carries you over to the bed.

He lays you down on it and then stands back up, removing his belt and jacket, letting them both fall to the floor. Then, he unbuttons his shirt and pants and lets them fall to the floor as well until he's standing there naked, cock bouncing. He slides both hands up your thighs and pushes your skirt up around your waist so that your whole bottom half is exposed to him. Getting down on his knees, he pulls you to the edge of the bed and moves your thighs to his shoulders. He leans forward and licks up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top. You gasp with the sensation of his tongue on your clit. He moves his tongue over and around you intentionally until you feel your orgasm rushing toward you. He stops for a second and pushes his tongue into you a few times before going back up to your sensitive bud.

"I know you're about to cum, honey. Just let go."

"Yes sir." He drags his tongue across you one last time and your climax explodes between your legs, shooting out to your fingertips and back again. Your release splashes out of you onto the bed and he laps at you eagerly.

"Good girl." He kisses your inner thigh and then nips at you gently. Standing up from his place on the floor, he strokes his cock several times, looking at you splayed out on the bed for him. He can't remember the last time he was this turned on- except for the last time he was with you. Something about you drives him absolutely crazy.

You sit up on your elbows and watch him as he looks at you and moves his hand up and down on himself.

"What?" You ask with a post-orgasm grin.

"Nothing. Don't break character." He says playfully mocking you from earlier.

The bed is tall enough that he doesn't have to bend down much to line himself up with you laying on the bed while he's standing next to it. He pulls your legs up so that your ankles are on his shoulders and pushes into you slowly. You feel yourself stretch around him and the pleasure is almost overwhelming. He begins to move faster, pumping in and out of you vigorously. While he pounds into you, he grabs one of your feet and kisses your ankle. You remembered how much he loved your toenails last time, so you made sure to have fresh polish again.

"Mmm. These sooties..." He looks down at you almost nervously. The familiar term just slipped out, which was unusual since he didn't typically use it with his short-term girls.

"I made sure they were pretty for you." When it doesn't bother you, he relaxes and goes back to fucking into you deeply. His length hits your sensitive spot with each thrust and you feel yourself crashing into another orgasm. He can tell you're getting close, so he takes one of your ankles in his hand and, lowering your leg, exposes your clit to him. Then, he licks his opposite thumb and uses it to rub circles on you as he slides in and out of you.

"Oh, God, Elvis!" You cry out as your climax slams into you from every direction and you cum hard on his dick. His own orgasm is coming quickly and he picks up his pace as it approaches.

"That's it, baby. Take this cock like a good girl." He says as he pounds into you rhythmically. In two more thrusts he shudders and fills you with warmth.

"Fuck, yes, y/n!" He pulls out of you and stumbles to lay next to you on the bed. You look at him as he lays there and think to yourself that you've never seen a more beautiful man.

"I fully intended to take that outfit off of you, but I didn't make it." He chuckles and turns to look at you.

"Eh, it added to the effect. I'm gonna take it off now, though. It's not exactly comfortable." He watches as you sit up and pull the dress over your head, leaving you as naked as he is. "I'll be right back."

You go to the bathroom and he gets up to, you assume, put his clothes back on. In the bathroom, you look in the mirror and assess how fucked out you look. You catch yourself wishing he could stay, but you know he probably can't and wouldn't even if he could.

"Don't try to make this more than it is." You whisper to yourself in the mirror and then walk out of the bathroom. When you get back to the room, though, you're shocked to find him situated in the bed under the covers, still naked.

"You don't have to leave?"

"Eventually. Come lay with me for a while, though." He pats the bed next to himself and you crawl in and snuggle up beside him. He wraps his arm around you and kisses your forehead, again in a gesture that's far too intimate.

"So do you actually have a maid?" You ask kind of off-hand, just to make conversation.

"I do now. I haven't always, though..." He launches into a monologue about what life was like for him growing up so poor. You respond appropriately, but mostly you just listen. He's not sure why he's telling you all of this, but for some reason it just feels good to talk to you. When he reaches the end of his speech, he picks up your hand and kisses your palm, talking into it.

"What about you?"

"Oh..." Without thinking too hard, you start telling him about your upbringing. You're surprised at how easy he is to talk to and how good of a listener he is. You didn't expect to talk to him this much, but before you know it, the sun is peeking in through your hotel room window and you're still naked, cuddled up and talking. He plays with your fingers the whole time and the comfort level between you grows exponentially.

Finally, he sighs deeply and looks to the window.

"I need to go, honey." He squeezes you and then slinks out of the bed to get dressed. You sit on the side of the bed and watch him, trying not to wish he wouldn't leave. Once he's dressed, he stands in front of you between your knees and runs his fingers through your hair. He doesn't want to leave, but he can't tell you that.

"Can I see you again?"

"You pick the scenario next time." He smiles warmly and wraps himself around you.

"I'll be in touch." He kisses your hair one last time and then makes his way to the door. Once he's walked through it, you lay back against the pillows and sigh. You cannot be having feelings for Elvis Presley.

But what you don't know is he's outside your hotel room door leaning his head against the wall, thinking the exact same thing about you.

******

Part 3 soon? Maybe?

Do we want it?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @tacozebra051 @rjmartin11

[a-twistedheartslonging]

The recent Book 7 release has put Vil and Rook on the mind, so do you have any particularly interesting courtship or relationship headcanons for your nonhuman AU? Thank you :)

My god Rook would rizz you so hard, we already know how he is as a human, though I've seen headcanons that he might have some beastmen in his blood it just isn't obvious/is distant or something like that.

Anyway...

He's enigmatic with a passion for all things beautiful, something Rook very much views you as regardless of what you think of yourself. He's very enthusiastic about supporting those that he admires so be ready for him to be supportive and encouraging as fuck. Yeah, he's gonna be weird about a lot of stuff but Rook is almost always genuine in his intentions.

Expect poetry and love letters to hit your door by arrow every morning.

Ah...Birb Boi Love.

When the night sky envelops the world in its cool embrace, a ballet takes place on treetops and secluded clearings— the dance of owl courtship. 

Serenading the night. Rook is already a great singer and loves to do it, with owls the males often initiate the mating process with a series of hoots. Though with him I'm pretty sure it would be actually singing that he graces you with...but still...it's kind of funny to think about...heh horny hoots.

He might be hoping for you to join him since female owls might answer back, leading to a duet. This vocal interaction strengthens the bond between the two owls and sets the stage for their partnership.

Gift giving, males often present food gifts. This act not only proves the male’s hunting prowess but also his ability to provide for offspring. He knows he can't just leave his fresh kills at your doorstep. Instead, he will use his cooking skills and bring very yummy meals cooked and caught by him. Will give a few happy hoots if you agree to letting him feed you.

He's going to bring you a lot of stuff, not just food though. Keep in mind the guy is well off and for a lot of creatures it's important to keep your mate well groomed, and he gets the good shit from Vil so expect to be gifted the best, lotions, shampoos, and skincare stuff. Along with clothes that seem to fit you perfectly...hmm how did he get your size?

Once a bond begins to form, owls might engage in mutual grooming, a sign of affection and trust. Please let him do your hair and nails he will be so happy. He gets to help you be even more pretty, gets to touch the person he likes, examine your interesting human features. He's actually someone you can trust to bathe with/wash your hair for you without trying anything regardless of his romantic feelings, even if you're nakey.

Nuzzling and nibbling will also happen, he knows you're a fan of his soft feathers and floof and will puff up to lure you in for cuddles...and then he'll get you with those gentle nibbles and nuzzle against you. At least with him, you won't have to worry about getting covered in fur after like with the others, but you might end up with a feather in your hair and will diffidently smell like Rook

Territory plays a vital role in owl mating behaviors. Male owls fiercely defend their territories from rival males, ensuring they have exclusive access to potential mates and sufficient resources for nesting and rearing young. Territory disputes often involve vocal and physical displays, including wing-spreading, aggressive posturing, and occasional physical combat.

As a result, any of the other guys should be wary of arrows flying their way when they get near Ramshackle once Rook gets to that stage in courting. The tree near your window was already one of his favorite spots before this started. I don't think he would start any fights though, not that he would need to, people tried to keep their distance from him before already.

The mental image of him doing the aggressive postering is funny though.

Hmm...wait...no...

...yeah, I can see how that would be scary if it's a man-sized owl creature doing it at night with glowing eyes and he's probably doing a weird honhonhonhon French laugh thing. He's going to scare the shit out of someone.

Some owl species, like the barn owl, engage in dramatic flight displays, which can include dives, spirals, and impressive swoops to impress a potential mate. He would definitely show off and even offer to carry you so you can enjoy a nice flight with him...you might see him divebomb someone, he doesn't actually touch them but gets pretty close.

The man loves his privacy so will likely pick a spot in Ramshackle away from everyone else to make into your love nest, only the finest blankets and pillows will be used, that fancy silk stuff you know?

Hmmm Vil.

I've thought about him ether being a Peacock-

Or a secretary bird.

I'm not sure what suits him best but I'm sure regardless his courtship will be flashy. You'll probably end up with a tail feather smacking you in the face at some point.

I might be able to think up something if you guys send in some ideas.

[xxxnightcorequeenxxxv3]

More Lore Stuff magical girl AU

I had a back-and-forth with @dannyphantom-justiceleauge on Discord. I got some more video recommanations for more stuff. And we chatted a lot about lore stuff they were curious about after my first post, so here is the summary of what we discussed + some extra bits. Their magical forms Regarding their magical forms, they do gain a bit of heightened flexibility. But they have to train in it to unlock more power-up forms. They do not change with them as they age; they are in the limbo stage at almost adulthood. (Insert joke about Tim forever being 17, blaming the magical girl curse for his stature. p.s it's not the curses doing) It's a curse and not a blessing, so why? First of all, the curse is all about self-preservation over the well-being of its Robins; it will heal them from lethal wounds as it needs them to be as strong as it is, but their mental healing is neglected. It is partly self-aware to the point that it wants to grow stronger. How does it get stronger? by having more people cursed into magical girls. But it can't curse people in quick succession. It has to recharge. It heals by forcing the Robin to transform when they are not in view of interference. the magical veil kicks in hard drive. So, the only one who can see her for the rescue portion is a fellow Robin. And the cursed has stay as magical girl form for the duration of the healing prosses. As the curse comes with an unwanted genderswap for everyone. it takes a toll on some of them harder than others. Can't exactly reassure the family you're fine when you're not you; they are lucky they can text. (Good thing Dick got a big apartment) The side effects of healing are also no joke. They are felt as phantom pains for every Robin, sharing the burden of hurt and taking energy to heal. In magical form, this manifests as a white streak on the individual who has had a prolonged stay in their magical form to heal. Babs, Jay, Tim, and Dami, I'm pretty sure, are in Got streaks club. The curse is also a danger magnet. The stronger it's Robins, the stronger it gets, you know. It also comes with the side effect of not being able to speak about the curse or warn anyone about it. The only one they can communicate about the curse freely is a fellow Robin. This is part of the magical veil I talked about. It makes people unable to connect the dots on who the Robins are as civilians. but it can also hide them from detection if they get badly hurt for eveyone but thier fellow Robins. Or for shorter times when to be in public as normal is needed. The Curse also makes them forget where they got the powers from. So, they have a hard time keeping track of the cursed music box. However, it usually stays close unless it wants more Robins. Living situation. They are more spread out, such as Cass staying with Babs. Tim gets smuggled into the manor under the pretense he can stay until his parents return from their trip. (it's been months) Dick gets his apartment still as they need some to go, not under Bruce's watch. How did it get to that point? Well, someone accidentally took the OG cured box with them to school on "accident". That's how Tim found it after it got " lost". Bruce is a bit of a better parent in this AU; got therapy for kids, as he saw them struggling and them "not" being vigilantes meant they could make use of therapy, unlike him. Though the Curse's Gaise is keeping them mum about their identity. So, they have to speak in metaphors if they want help from the therapists. So I read this book, I had a nightmare, on the news, scary game. Not to mention the body dysphoria. But that one is a bit of a sliding scale for who took it worse.

as @dannyphantom-justiceleauge put it; "I could see Tim being more fluid, and Cass being agender. Dick isn't as bothered by it as he feels he should be but that's more because he has a healthy relationship with gender than because he's comfortable with the.. changed parts. Hes him no matter the body even if its a bit weird Tim and Cass are fully in the, eh it doesnt matter camp. Babs, Jason, Damien, and Steph are having struggles tho

Duke also strikes me as less bothered by it. He has different priorities."

Jay may not have had to deal with voice cracks for his extended stay as a magical girl, but the growing he did, but not know it, it was a bit of a shock to him. bigger body and different voice when he finally got turned back into a guy really rocked his mental health. But on the positive side of things where, they could adapt the coping skills they learned in therapy. Bruce don't know what the kids are up to with the magic thing. He just thing they got close sibling bonds and likes to hang out. Alfred knows the kids are up to something but can't say for sure what they are up. His best guess is they are hanging out with friends doing gymnastics with friends as a sort of club thing. Bruce's thoughts on the Magical girls. Of course, he is worried for their safety, as he has been repeatedly saved from peril by them, who would jump in the way of lethal attacks to protect him. He is under the misconception that they are using tech and not magic. He made the mistake of commenting on the white streak in someone's hair. And got the explanation that it's a side effect of them kinda dying for a bit. causing him to jump to the conclusion that if their hair turns all white, they'll die. (They won't, but he doesn't know that) all in all, causing him grey hair. He likes that the use non lethal attacks, and kinda has a mini freak out when he learns they got a lethal mode. Who are they fighting? Rouges, mostly, But they are trying to Cleanse Gotham of curses cuz that's the only way to break their curse. We talked about weapons having 3 forms. The initial one you see in the first post is an alt mode and their lethal mode. Because i planned on doing power ups. The weapons also come with sound effects. Think Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha's weapon with voice effects. Also, on a side note, Dami was not happy with his base form weapon, only to be likewise annoyed when a long time after he found out the lethal version of his weapon is a sword. The first one to unlock lethal mode is Dick after what Joker did to Jay and Babs. (when the gloves come of their is penance to pay clown) Think escrima sticks with eclectic blades attached. His alt mode is just bigger flags. Babs i've also fully wotk out it starts as a hula hoop, turs cyr wheel in alt mode then a Giant Shuriken for lethal mode. Cas's Weapon Voice clips.

Dami's

Babs's

Duke's

Dick's

Jay's

Stef's

Tim's, I will have to share later Cuz I accidentally exceeded the limit of uploads in a day ops. But to make it up to you, I'll tell you Tim's full weapon sequence.

Base form twirling baton, alt mode is a more extended staff, and lethal mode is a scythe. and a bonus vids for @dannyphantom-justiceleauge suggestions that gets included in the AU.

[the-kr8tor]

Lace

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Cursing, CW spiders, TW Arachnophobia, TW violence, CW injury, angst, fluff.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Your pulse thumps loudly against your skin, swallowing a lump in your throat, you bravely make your way towards your friend. That word hangs loosely in the balance, you have no right to get mad at Hobie, he has no obligation towards your feelings whatsoever. Especially that you've never voiced how much you like him, no how much you came to love him.

You've never exactly pinpointed the time or event that made you love your best friend, but you know deep inside that you have. Whether it was platonic before or romantic after a few years of knowing him. You know that you've loved the same man for years. That's why it hurts so much that he's been ogling the unknown woman in his presence. Hands tucked inside the pockets of his leather jacket, he watches her through half lidded eyes, a smile curling around his lips.

The woman's giggle cuts you like a rusty knife, leaving you bleeding and doubting everything. Doubting all the soft touches and lingering gazes from Hobie all those years of hanging out with him. Maybe you are delusional, your lovesick brain making you think and imagine that a man like him could ever love you back.

You hate yourself for being jealous, the big green monster rearing its ugly head. Whispering and gnawing at your shattering heart. Trying to tamp down the ugly thing, cageing it inside your chest like a feral animal, you exhale a shaky breath. Eyes growing glassy at the sticky kiss she leaves on Hobie's cheek. The large Oscorp museum looms behind the stage, casting a large shadow on the couple, as if the building's hiding them from you, mockingly adding to your pain.

Weaving through the crowd, you catch the last bit of their conversation.

"I'll see you at the after party, right, Hobs?" Her voice is sweet yet it sounds like nails on a chalkboard when she calls him 'Hobs'.

"Sure, Lacey," his voice monotone, "go, we're almost on." Hobie nods at her.

'Lacey' winks at him, giving him a flirty smile, waving goodbye. Her long curls bouncing as she walks away.

Hobie notices someone staring, he cranes his neck, squinting, instantly grinning when he spots you. "Oi! There you are! You're late. Nice boots, are they new?"

You clear your throat, blinking away the tears threatening to spill over. "Yeah" walking closer to him, you give him enough space. Far enough for him to not be able to hold you.

Hobie notices your downturned gaze, "you okay–"

"You made it!" Yuri appears from behind, bounding towards you for a hug. "Look at our lucky charm! Lookin' pretty as always" she holds you at arms length. Giving her the best smile you could muster.

Ned and James join her side, "nice shoes!" Ned exclaims, bass strapped on his back.

"'ave you been cryin'?" James asks, concerned. He (unfortunately for you) noticed your glassy eyes.

"What?" You chuckle softly "No, I had to run here, the wind whipped at my face" trying to save face.

"You sure it's not allergies? Pollen count is at an all time high today" James adds, nodding.

"You learned that at your da's radio show?" Ned teases. James shoves him.

"I'm fine, it's nothing" you shrug, it's not nothing, your heart feels like it's been run over by a train.

"You sure you're okay?" Hobie finally chides in, closing in the distance you've put out. Intertwining your pinkies together.

To Hobie's dismay, you pull away a second later, "yeah, good luck. I'll be in the crowd" you give the band a double thumbs up, "you guys better win!" Trying to sound cheerful.

"Hell yeah, we will!" James pumps his fist in the air for added effect.

You walk away, trying to get in front of the stage for a better view of the show, pushing past the crowd, some seem to be too out of it to notice you. Spotting the familiar curls, you stop in the middle of the crowd that's packed together like sardines. Lacey laughs with her friends, hyping them up, drinks in hand, singing a familiar song.

The lights turn to a different color, red enveloping the stage. You feel like you're underwater, the loud noises muffled in your ears. You can barely hear the announcer introducing the band, eyes fixated towards Lacey, she throws a flying kiss towards the stage. You don't have to look at who the recipient was.

Guitar riffs ring out, Hobie's band starts playing their song, the crowd suddenly rushes in, trying to get to the front of the stage, trapping you. Bouncing around dancing bodies, you can't get out of the wild crowd, some noticing you trying to get out, they move and part for you. But some are way too into it to notice you.

"Excuse me, please! Fuck!" You yell out. A stray elbow hitting you right on your eye. The smacking sound rings in your ears, hand nursing the injury. A hand flings to your cheek, backhanding you. "Fuck!"

"Oi oi, stop! y/n!" Hobie's voice echoes around the venue, you deduce that he grabbed the mic from Ned. The band stops playing.

Half of the crowd doesn't stop, still jumping and bouncing around, guessing they've probably snuck in liquor. You ping pong around sweaty bodies, The only thing you could do was try to protect your head with your arms. Closing your eyes.

"Hoy! Fuckers! He said stop!" Lacey's voice screams out, trying to push past the mass. You can barely hear her through the blood rushing in your ears.

A strong yet familiar arm wraps around your shoulder, looking up you see Hobie arguing with a stranger.

"What the fuck! I said stop! Were you dropped on your head?!" He shoves the man away. Pointing at another trying to argue back. "Fuck off!" He lets go of you, shoving the other with force.

"Hey mate, if she can't handle it, maybe–" The man slurs his words, he couldn't finish his sentence, his face connecting with your knuckles. He should be glad that it wasn't Hobie's or else he would have his rings embedded in his jaw. The man keels over, sobering him up in an instant, groaning in pain.

Hobie looks at you in shock, you look at the men like you want to rip them apart.

Everything crushes you, the weight and pressure of your project, expectations from your family, your love for him. Every insecurity seeps out of your bones, drowning you in its disgusting waters.

You throw your anger at the first thing you see.

"You fucking wanker!" You seethe, your eyes darken, the strangers bear the brunt of your anger. "Stop means stop motherfucker!"

Hobie holds you back, if he doesn't you'll get kicked out of the event, "holy shit" your fist held up, ready to strike again.

You push him off, eye stinging in pain. Huffing, You give the men one last angry glare before stomping away from the crowd, too angry to care that you have an audience. Hobie follows closely behind, calling your name urgently.

"What?!" You turn sharply, the skin around your injured eye slowly turning into a darker color.

"Are you okay?" He asks, hands ghosting over your closed fists.

"Stop asking me if I'm okay, Hobart! Do I look like I'm fucking okay?!" You yell, frustrated, wincing at the pain in your socket. "Fuck!"

Your heart aches when you fight with him, moreso when you yell at Hobie. You're angry but not at Hobie, you're mad at yourself, mad that you've read his love for you as romantic, angry that you never told him how you feel. Furious at your jealousy.

One word stays in your mind, your own voice screaming it out like bloody murder: Coward.

"Love" he says softly, hands wrapping around your tightly closed fists, your nails digging into your palms leaving half moons on the soft skin. Hobie slowly unclenches your fists for you, fingers opening up yours. "You need ice over that, I'll bring you to the first aid station and–"

"You don't have to, just go. Get back on stage" you pull your hands away from him, clenching your hands into fists again.

"y/n, you might be concussed–" Hobie stares at you, concerned.

"Go" you sniff. "I'll go there myself" turning your back on him, Hobie watches you walk away.

—

The first aid station sits further away from the stage, the loud sounds can still be heard from where you're sitting inside the large tent. Cheers echoes out, prompting you to close your eyes at the booming sound.

The frozen ice pack melts in your hand, condensation dripping down on your arm. Your eye socket stings even with the pain meds the nurse gave you. Your head feels like it's trying to escape your skull. Sitting on the plastic chair, elbows propped on your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek when you hear your friends asking for you.

Scooching away from their line of sight, hiding behind a water cooler, you try to make yourself small. You groan when you hear the nurse tell them your location. Your anger has finally subsided, embarrassment replacing it.

Maybe you should've left when you had the chance.

Feet shuffle their way towards you, staying put, staring at the grey concrete, shoes fill your vision. Yuri breaks the silence.

"You've got a mean right hook, remind me to never piss you off"

You don't answer glaring at their shoelaces. The water from the ice pack drops on the concrete, painting it darker.

"Bloody hell, give her some room" Hobie arrives at your side, gesturing for them to give you space.

Hobie crouches down, leveling with your down turned stare. Grabbing the not so frozen ice pack from your hand carefully, avoiding touching your hand, in case you don't want to be touched. He stares at your black eye with concern.

"I made you all lose didn't I?" You stare up at your friends, avoiding Hobie's brown eyes.

"We got third place, I don't count that as a loss. It's better than we hoped for anyway" Ned looks at you apologetically.

"Right, not your fault." James adds. "Competition's hard, love"

"You're just saying that, if Hobie didn't interrupt by saving me, you would've won"

"If Hobie didn't jump in I would've jumped after you instead" Yuri chides in, pocketing her drumsticks.

"Me too" Ned says.

"Me three" James raises his hand, "Hobie just beat us to it" he shrugs.

"Still, I'm sorry," saying it softly. You don't miss the way they avoided asking you if you're okay.

"You're the one with the black eye" Hobie stands up, "can I talk to you?" He asks.

"We'll see you later, yeah?" Ned places a comforting hand on Hobie's shoulder. "As for you," Ned looks at you, "you've got my number, call me whenever or better yet visit me sometime"

You manage to crack a small smile, "I will" you stand up, giving him a hug, squeezing your friend. "Richmond's only an hour away" letting him go, you give him a sad smile.

"That's right, I'm only an hour away" Ned pats your shoulder.

Yuri steps in, holding both your hands, "and I'm just in Cambridge" she hugs you tightly, "don't be a stranger, yeah?"

"I'll come visit you whenever I can then" you squeeze her hands.

"You better" Yuri gives you her rare ten megawatt smile.

"Yuri and I will be classmates so you can visit me too if you want" James pats your back awkwardly.

"Fuck off, no we're not" Yuri scrunches her nose at James.

"We'll see you at the after party, Hobie?" Ned asks the unusually quiet man next to you.

The after party, where she will be waiting for Hobie. You try not to think about it, mentally chastising yourself.

"Nah, I have to get ready for her show."

"That's rescheduled actually, it's happening next week instead of tomorrow" you correct him. Hissing when your skin tugs at your eye.

"We'll be there then if you ever decide to pop in" Yuri informs Hobie.

"Alright, see you" Hobie waves them off. Sitting back down you watch them walk away with sad eyes.

"Can I have my ice pack back?" You groan when the pain pinches your eyelids.

"It's basically water, I'll get you a new one" He moves towards the nurse. You sit there, contemplating the past events.

The green monster peeks back out, shaking its cage, shackles straining against its leg. You try to move away from the image of her hands wrapped around Hobie's necklace that you've given him three birthdays ago, cherry red lipstick sticking to his cheek. The way he looked at her, the fucking pain in your eye. You start seething again, wanting to punch something.

You sigh, palms over your tired face, avoiding your injured eye.

"You al–" he stops himself, walking on eggshells. You don't want him doing that around you. "Here's your ice pack, the nurse said you don't have a concussion so I can take you home. Only if you want to" Hobie hands you the ice pack.

"This seems familiar, huh?" You wince at the cold hitting your skin, trying to cut the tension.

"What?"

"Can you fucking sit down for a second" you gesture towards a chair.

Hobie sighs, sitting down backwards on the chair, resting his chin over the plastic back of it, arms wrapping around it.

"When we first met? Remember that? It was almost exactly like this"

He lets out a breathy laugh, "Right, you threw that sketchbook at Terry. Yuri's right, you've got a dangerous arm"

"Should've gone into baseball, or volleyball at least" you avoid his stare. "We were sharing an ice pack, while we bad mouth Terrence" chuckling sadly at the memory. You don't regret meeting him that day, if you could do it all over again even after knowing what will happen, you would, without question.

"Will you fucking look at me" Hobie asks softly, you jump slightly at his angry tone. "Can you tell me what's eating you, is it the project?"

You wait a few seconds to bravely look at him, your face unreadable. "It's not the project"

"Is it really rescheduled, or you're just trying to get rid of me?" Hobie narrows his eyes at you. You can't read him, his expression flat, except for the slight scowl.

You shake your head, "Why the fuck am I trying to get rid of you? Mrs. Williams had a change of heart and gave us an extension, that's it!" The conversation escalates, frustrated at Hobie for implying that you're getting rid of him. You would never.

"Then why are you angry?" He doesn't raise his voice, he never does, and he won't ever start to.

"Because! I'm–" you hear a loud cough, the nurse glares at you two. Hobie notices, standing up.

"C'mon let's go inside" He stands up.

"Yeah, because arguing inside a museum is much better"

"You think those fucks care about a museum?" He points towards the concert with his thumb, "I looked inside, no one's in there. They're all going to the after party anyway"

Sighing, you want to go home, but knowing Hobie, he won't relent. You wouldn't dare to go to his place instead, not wanting to taint your future home with a fight. Your dorm is out of the question, it's almost midnight, your RA wouldn't let Hobie in. You don't want to run from this, even if it means lying to his face.

"Give me the bloody card" He asks for the favour card tucked inside your pocket.

"You're gonna use one on this?" You hand it to him.

"Yes" he pops one off, Hobie doesn't want to ruin his relationship with you, especially with him not knowing the cause of your anger. So he's willing to do anything to prevent that. The wind carries the logo somewhere.

You wish you're that piece of paper right now. Only seven to go.

—

Walking around the futuristic room, the walls white and pristine, covered in blue neon lights. It looks like you're in one of Ned's favourite sci-fi movie, you can't quite make out the title though. The entire place is silent, with only a handful of people walking around, the only sounds are from displays, machines whirring in the background, and noises made by the displays' speakers. They opened up the museum really late for the concert as a promotion even though most people only stayed for the show.

You stop in front of a display, a projection of some enhanced spider lifting something that's apparently fifty times heavier than its weight. Sitting down on a bench in front of the display, eyes glued to the presentation.

Hobie sits next to you, giving you space. He watches the projection's glow on the side of your face, making it look like there's a giant spider crawling on your skin.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you" you finally break the silence. "I shouldn't have done that, you were only trying to help," eyes still watching the educational video. Taking a deep breath, "Why do you think I'm trying to get rid of you?"

"It's nothing" he watches as the enhanced spider bites another spider, fighting with it.

"It's clearly nothing" you scoff, "that's the first thing you thought of when I told you that the show's rescheduled"

Hobie wishes he brought Terry with him, his leg bouncing, a nervous habit of his. "I'm holding you back." He confesses, wincing, regretting it almost immediately.

Your neck snaps to look at him, "You're not, why would you think that?" You sound angry, but your concern for him wins over. "Why?" Tentatively scooching over, you close the distance, cupping his hand in yours. "If anything I'm holding you back, you could've gone anywhere after you left school. Yet you stayed"

Hobie raises his brow at you, scoffing. At first you thought he'll pull away his hand, instead he drops his forehead on your shoulder, fitting right in. He feels the roughness of your denim jacket, squeezing your hand.

The projector's light envelopes you two in emerald green as it switches to a different scene.

"Why do you think I'm still here?" He finally answers after a few seconds. It felt like hours for you.

"Because I'm your best friend" you say softly.

"Best mates don't look at each other like we do" he gathers all his courage, tired of all the pushing and pulling, tired of being selfish, locking his feelings from you. Hobie cranes his neck up to look into your familiar eyes. The same eyes he's longed for. He's so close to you he could see himself in your glassy eyes.

Your heart beats a thousand times per second, Hobie cups your jaw, gaze falling on your slightly parted lips. You hold his wrist, thumb right on his hastening pulse, you cup his jaw with your free hand, hand soft against his slight stubble.

"Best mates don't touch each other like this," he continues.

Your eyes wander around his face, looking for any lies of what he's told you, flabbergasted at his confession. Your breath is seemingly stuck in your throat, heart stuttering when he slowly closes the gap between you.

You don't pull away.

You can feel him tugging at the loose thread, it feels like it's tightening around you instead of breaking you two apart at the seams. The dam has a sizable crack in its foundation, threatening to burst open.

Hobie leans towards your lips, now or never, he sees you flutter your eyes close, taking it as a sign to seal your lips with his. He feels a crawling sensation on his back, ignoring it, thinking it's his nerves acting up. His heart pounds like a drum, he can't back down now.

"Agh! Fuck!" Hobie suddenly screeches, hands flying towards his nape.

"What? What is it?!" You panic, turning him around, yelping when you see a bright spider latched on his neck. "Fuck!"

"What is it?!"

"Spider!" You try to fling it away using your sleeves, avoiding touching the arachnid.

"It fucking bit me!" Hobie slaps his neck in one swift movement, the spider lays dead, still latched on his skin. "Did I get it?"

"Yeah, let me just–" you take a handkerchief from your pocket, taking the spider away from his skin, "there, got it" showing the spider laying on your pink handkerchief. "Oh god it's red"

"You think it's venomous?"

You laugh wholeheartedly for the first time that night.

"I'm serious, I could die from this" Hobie pokes the spider.

Like it's comedic timing, the narrator from the educational video says, "it's not venomous but it is advised to seek professional help when bitten by the wolf spider, some people could be allergic to their bites–"

Staring at each other, "wow" you manage to say at the same time, you giggle nervously, having no idea how to proceed with how things are now.

"It doesn't look like the wolf spider, they're a different color" Hobie pokes the spider to look at its underbelly, "yeah, different one" he acts as if he's suddenly interested in arachnology.

You look at him with so much endearment, your eyes are practically shaped like hearts.

"What?" Hobie catches your staring, a smile playing on his lips.

"Nothin'" you taunt him with a cheeky smile. He rolls his eyes at you but his smile betrays him.

The intercom rings out, "The museum is now closed, sorry for the early closing" a nasally voice says. "There has been an incident in one of our displays, please leave the museum in an orderly fashion"

Hobie clears his throat, hand scratching at his nape, also not knowing what happens now. "I'll take you home," He stands up, offering you his hand.

"Okay" you feel giddy as you take his outstretched hand. It feels familiar yet oh so different now. You've finally got confirmation about his feelings towards you, no matter how vague it was. You two have all the time in the world to discuss it. You've waited this long, you can endure a few more days of tiptoeing around each other. Baby steps, you think.

Swinging your intertwined hands, you look up at him. "Do you think the incident that they're talking about is this spider?" You pat your jeans pocket where the covered spider is kept. "Like it came out of its enclosure or something?"

"They don't have live specimens here, probably not" he entertains your question, squeezing your hand.

You both leave the museum, hand in hand. Ignoring an alarm blaring from somewhere.

—

You hug Hobie's leather jacket tighter around you, the cold air biting at your cheeks, helping numb the pain in your eye. Hobie takes your helmet off for you, the simple action he's done a million times before makes your heart skip a beat. You watch him with curious eyes, waiting for something to happen between you. The large brick building that houses your dorm looms overhead.

You notice him sweating despite the cold, "How do you feel?" You ask, concerned.

"I feel fine" he takes your helmet back towards the compartment of his motorbike. "Why?"

You step over to him, your palm feeling his forehead for a sign of a fever. "You're sweating, it's like fifteen degrees, why are you sweating?" He leans into your touch, sighing a bit.

"It's because I'm bloody fit" Hobie smirks, winking at you playfully.

You roll your eyes, "what if you're actually allergic to that spider bite? We might need to get you to a hospital" pulling back your hand to your side.

"I'm fine, seriously. I have no idea why I'm sweating though" He wipes his moist forehead.

"Okay. I can come with, just to make sure you don't have a weird reaction to it"

"You'll come to the after party?"

"You're still going to that?" Why? She'll be there, you bite your tongue, jealousy gripping you again. He's not going because of that, right?

"Yeah, It'll probably be the last one with the band, I want to make the most of it"

"Okay, just be careful" you wrap your pinky around his, "ask the others for help if you suddenly feel sick, please?"

"I will. Go to bed, you're knackered. Get some ice on that once you wake up, yeah?"

You bravely stand on your tiptoes to reach his cheek, kissing his skin softly. It feels just right, like your lips were perfectly molded for his cheek. Hobie seems like he ran out of air, frozen into place. He has no idea where to put his hands, your waist seems to be a little suggestive, arms seems to be more on the friendly side, if he grabs the back of your neck, Hobie's afraid he might pull you in for a kiss, which you might not want right now. So he settles for your shoulder, it feels awkward still.

You pull away, seeing a very rare sight of a flustered Hobie. Almost giggling, you clamp down, not wanting to tease him more or he might start hiding this kind of face he's currently making. His pupils are blown out, mouth agape. He returns to his nonchalant expression when he notices you biting your lips to stifle your giggling.

Grabbing his hands in yours, you bat your lashes, "Drive carefully, please?"

Hobie pulls you in by your belt loop, hugging you, his chin rests on the crown of your head, long arms enveloping you. He pokes your scalp with his chin. Your laugh pierces through the dark.

"Yeah, yeah" Pulling away, he carefully grazes his forefinger over to your black eye. "Sorry, 'bout this"

"Not your fault. Thank you for jumping in to save me, even if I yelled at you after" you look at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, again"

He shakes his head, not knowing the exact words to reply to you. Rubbing your leather clad arms, he stops when he reaches your hands. "Keep this for tonight, you can bring it back to me tomorrow, yeah?" Hobie subtly asks you out.

You grin at him asking for you to come visit him the next day. "Mm-hmm, I was gonna visit you anyway. You're due for a fitting"

"Yeah? Finished our baby then?" An excited smile appears on his lips.

"Almost, I think you'll like it" You say smugly.

"You made it, it's a guarantee I'll like it"

—

You adjust the weight of your heavy bag on your shoulder, walking along the water towards Hobie's houseboat. Grinning at the familiar boat, you speed walk to the doors. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, excited to see Hobie again after last night, After his 'confession'.

Hugging his leather jacket around your torso, moving the bag slightly away, just to show him that you didn't forget to bring it with you.

Knocking, you call out to Hobie. "Hey, it's me!"

The boat rocks a bit to the side, tilting your head, curious at what might've caused its movement since the river is calm. Finn is right, you can't hear anything happening inside. The boat tilts again, you hold onto the wall for support.

You knock again, "Hobie! Are you okay in there?"

Hobie finally answers the door, it swings wildly, sweat dripping on his bare chest, still in his boxers, his wicks uncharacteristically standing in messy angles. Gripping the doorknob in an iron hold, his chest heaves up and down like he's run a marathon, or like he just–

Hobie seems like he can't properly construct a proper sentence, he blinks at you through watery eyes, licking his dry lips.

You were about to ask him if he's okay, you freeze in place, face falling when a female voice rings somewhere inside– "Hobs?"

You feel a hole caving in your heart, leaving a Hobie shaped chasm, eyes glistening in the morning sun, you don't even wait for his explanation. You just run, run as fast as your legs could take you. You have no idea where to go. Your heart is shattering with every step, you have no time to pick up the pieces, leaving it scattered in the wind.

You can hear Hobie yelling your name, ignoring his urgent calls, you sprint away.

A/N: Everything will make sense in the next chapter 😉 thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it, it encourages me to write more ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

[weird-is-life]

Hiii! I saw your taking Rockstar!Remus request and was wondering if you could do Rockstar!Remus x Shy!Reader and like she’s hella awkward but in Like a funny way and she’s a really good singer and he wrote a song for them and one night invites her on stage for them to sing together and it’s all really cute ?! If that makes sense 😭! You can take this anywhere you want it totally up to you ! Anyways you totally don’t have to write this it’s just an idea ! Have and amazing day/night! 🩵 ( also fem or non specific pronouns!)

Hii, ty for the request!! I love rockstar!Remus so much🥹, hope you this is okay. Warnings: fluff, use of pet names and y/n, shy!reader (0.8k)

You love music, almost as much as you love your boyfriend. And you love writing music and singing. But what you don't love is too much attention on you.

You'd tried being on stage, performing, but your shyness often times resulted in some clumsy, embarrassing things for you to happen. So you're trying to stay away from performing as far as possible.

You've written a song for The Marauders, it's not the first song you've ever written for them, so you're used to just standing behind the curtains and enjoying hearing it live.

That's exactly what you're doing now. You're standing backstage with a clear view of your boyfriend.

Remus somehow looks even more hot, strumming on his bass, having the time of his life while doing so.

He sneaks a peek at you every now and then, sending a huge grin along with a wink your way. Which makes your cheeks go red every single time. Remus won't admit it, but you're pretty sure, he just loves watching you go all shy and blushy around him.

Finally, the last song, the song you've written comes up and suddenly Remus starts to grin at you, more than he usually does. And you instantly know, that he's up to something.

Sirius and James both nod at him and Remus starts to speak into the mic, while still looking at you, " everybody! Tonight, we have a very, very special person here."

You go white as a wall as soon as you hear his words. He can't seriously think, that you will come up in the stage. Not happening.

"She's written multiple songs for us. She's an incredible musician, but she's just a bit to shy. So please, everyone, help me get her on the stage," Remus gives you a reassuring smile, before he announces, " y/n, would you do us the honor and join us on the stage?"

You don't move at all, you stay frozen at the place. There's loud cheer of the fans, trying to encourage you on the stage, but you can't move.

"C'mon, y/n, we've already made a peace with the fact you're going to shame us with your talent, so make it quick," Sirius urges you on in his sweet, characteristic way, but you still don't move.

Remus is still looking at you with supportive smile, he mouths at you," c'mon sweetheart, you can do it. I'll be right besides you."

The crowd starts to chant your name ( after James and Sirius have started it) to try to get you on the stage.

You eventually give in and slowly walk onto the stage. You shyly wave at the crowd and make your way straight to Remus.

"I'm going to kill you, when we get out of here," you whisper to Remus and stand in front of his mic as he just chuckles.

You greet the crowd sheepishly and nervously fiddle with your hands on the mic, almost knocking the mic stand over. Your cheeks go even more red.

The guys start the play the tune of your song, but before you start singing Remus whispers into your ear," it's okay, just breath. You got this."

You listen to his words and take a huge breath, and then you start singing. You are so freaking nervous at first, but once the guys join you with the singing the stress leaves you almost entirely.

You actually start to enjoy the performing and by the time the song is over, you're smiling big, suddenly understand why the guys love it so much. There's something thrilling about it. The atmosphere, the fans and everything around it.

Once the song is over, you and the boys take each other's hands and bow together. But then you quickly get off the stage, your shyness still very much present.

You are taking one big breath after another, when suddenly you're lifted off of the ground by two strong hands.

You immediately recognise it's Remus as he laughs happily with you still in his arms.

"You did it! I knew, you had it in you," he says softly and proudly, while he puts you back down. He's looking at you like you have just done something very incredible (which for you, you kind of have).

"Was I okay? Wasn't it too bad?" you ask him anxiously, biting your lip.

"Okay? Are you kidding? You were amazing, we will loose many fans to you now," he teases you with affection.

"Not possible, they love your handsome faces too much, " you murmur with a smile.

Remus laughs," our handsome faces? Not our talent?"

"Yeah, maybe that too," you say cheekily, rolling your eyes at him.

Remus pokes you into your side playfully and plants a sweet kiss to your temple," very funny, dove. Now c'mon, we gotta go and celebrate this !"

Remus takes your hand in his and pulls you after him into his changing room. You talk about how it felt to be on the stage, while Remus listens to you with lovesick gaze.