#it looks like it tastes like battery acid

[the-sillies-survivor]

my friend just showed me this. it’s like the oreo mayo shit again. capitalism scares me.

[michi-chelle]

sir that’s rich coming from you

[bigfatbreak1]

Are these your drawing of them? Super cute!

😎Oh yeah😎

My tablet screen has been getting so much ACTION ever since I laid eyes on these dweebs

[thetrinitytest]

apologies for derailing your post but every time i hear someone use the phrase “dry wine” something snaps in me and i just.

SHUT UP. SHUT UPSHUT THE FUCK UP

>wine enjoyers be like 'this one is so very dry'

>taste it

>it's wet

[luvyeni]

PERSONAS ,, 이제노

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ jeno is surprised by your persona... both of them ヾ

PORNSTAR!이제노・ CAMGIRL!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ 6.4k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

𓂃 🎞️ content warning... sex on film, rough-ish sex, oral sex ( M ), unprotected sex, facial

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 finally did a fic based on this photoshoot , doesn’t he look like a 80’s pornstar?

camgirling was only supposed to be something you did for fun, and the cash you got from it wasn't too bad either — you never expected to blow up like you did, the people really liked you.

when you first started it was slow, but that didn't last long and soon you gained a small following. it wasn't until you did a face reveal that you blew up — the fans loved you; that day alone you gained 100k new followers. from that day on you only grew more; more money rolled in which granted you the ability to move into a bigger apartment, pay off your debts and live comfortably without stress.

“it's your persona” your friends would say; you weren't shy about you did for work; you felt like you didn't need to be — no you weren't telling a stranger on the street you did camgirling , but you didn't hide it from your friends. “you're a walking porn trope.” donghyuck; your best friend said. “innocent girl next door look , but we all saw you deepthroat a 6in dildo without gagging.”

that should've offended you but you were used to it. “yeah , that pigmented blush bows and wide puppy dog eyes is cute and all, but it's that and the fact that you bounced on a 7in strap-on attached to a stuffed bear that turns people on.” ryujin said. “you have a face for porn.”

“is there a difference?” your friends looked at you. “duh , of course!” haechan said. “camgirling is mostly done in the comfort of your own home , low production.” he said. “porn is different, with porn there's a script almost like a movie with a crew , and another actor.” you and ryujin both looked at each other. “uh you seem real passionate about that…” he shrugged. “I'm a man of course i do , that's why i know you would be perfect for porn.”

“what would i get out of bad acting in room full of men with hardon watching me be badly fucked by another macho man on viagra and red bull?” you scoffed. “expect a sore clit and a cumshot to the face that tastes like battery acid?” ryujin looked around the cafe where you were sitting , making sure no one heard the conversation. “would you both keep it down?”

“more money, a new following.” he responded nonchalantly , your ears perked up. “go on.” you said now listening. “well the website you use now, it's big but it's niche , only a few new visitors monthly.” he started. “you do one porn video with a good actor with a good following , bingo! you get a new following from his following and it reaches a bigger audience who stumble across your video.” you had to admit although he was loud and you're pretty sure the sweet old lady walking past heard everything, he talked a big game.

“what are you a porn star scout?” ryujin laughed while taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “wait is that a thing?” he asked, you shook your head. “that does sound good, my rent just went up and there's a new pair of shoes that have been sitting in my cart.” you said. “yn don't do porn for a pair of louboutins and rent , get a roommate.” ryujin said, trying to be the voice of reason. “would you do it?” you asked her.

“i love you so i would never lie to you.” she said. “yeah , give me the script.” the three of you busting out into a fit of laughter. “plus if you don't like it then you can easily go back to camgirling.” she said. “and i don't think all male pornstars are bad.”

“and you know this how?” she looked at you. “you think i don't watch porn?” she questioned. “the acting? horrible but who's watching porn for the plot.” haechan raised his hand. “haechan be fucking for real.” you snickered. “what big dick delivery man and hot lonely milf is a work of art.” he said with a serious face. “oh he serious i think.” ryujin said. “that's the scary thing.”

“you know not all the acting is bad either.” ryujin spoke up. “yeah jeno is good even my dick gets hard when i listen to him speak.” you choose to ignore him. “who's jeno.” you asked. “you don't know jeno? the lee jeno, he's huge in the porn world.” ryujin said, you scoffed. “sorry im not familiar with the ryan reynolds of porn.” you said. “you think ryan reynolds would do porn?”

“lee jeno is a huge pornstar; he doesn't even just do porn , he's a model, he walks on runways as well , he's invited into classy spaces despite showing the world his dick.” the girl explained. “and i heard the girls he fucks on camera…” she said. “those orgasms are real.” haechan nodded in agreement. “i heard that too.”

“if you could get with him, you'd be set.” you rolled your eyes. “if he's as good as you say why the fuck would he film a video with me?” you scoffed. “pussy is pussy and money is money.” ryujin shrugged , the horrified worker walked past making the three of you laugh. “my god ryu , you sound like a man.”

“check him out; i swear you'll understand why he's famous.”

“come in , come in.” you flashed a smile to the camera; this wasn't a camgirl video, but a regular live that you sometimes did because your fans wanted you to — for what? you don't question, they pay you to just talk half naked. “how was everyone's day?”

you read through the comments; thanking the commenters for the donations. “what did i do today?” you read off. “well i ran some errands, got a few new toys.” you smirked. “oh and i had some coffee with some friends.” you said. “they told me i have a face for porn.”

the comments blew up with people agreeing. “i guess you guys agree as well.” you giggled playing into that act they loved so muched, reading more comments.

6inchking. what i would do to film a video with you.

user34.52. fuck yes , i would kill to see you fuck someone else.

allsizesmatter. you should film with lee jeno.

“oh? i keep hearing that name, my friends said the same thing.” you said. “is he really that good? maybe i should watch some of his videos.” you said, rolling your eyes at the comments that were in disbelief that you watched porn. “guys don't be ridiculous , why wouldn't i watch porn?” you laughed, grabbing your phone. “let's look him up.”

you typed into the search bar; waiting for the screen to load. “let's see if he lives up to what everyone says he is.” the screen finally loading, the most finest fucking man popping up on your screen. “oh he's really good looking.” you said scrolling through the many pictures. “really good looking.” you almost forgot you were on live — not only was his face godly , it looked like he was sculpted by the gods himself.

user24.52. look at her , already turned on just by his photos.

user22.63. to be looked at by her liked that.

“guys stop.” you giggled, cheeks red. “he is cute though.” you said. “im already so tired from the day.” you said; and yes you were tired, but you also wanted to watch on of his videos. “am i gonna watch one of his videos?” you smiled innocently , before shrugging. “i guess you guys will never know will you.” you blew a kiss to the camera. “bye bye.” you turned the camera off.

after that you wasted no time, climbing into your bed. your phone in your hand as you get comfortable, reaching over into your nightstand grabbing your rose toy; taking off your panties , pulling down your bra , sighing as the wind hit your nipples. “fuck.” you scrolled through jenos account— he had 5.5 million followers; way more than your messily 345k, he was a big deal.

you scrolled through his videos , settling on the most recent one. clicking the video — normally you'd skip the whole “acting scene” but this guy was known for his good acting so you decided to see for yourself.

you were a little bored at first, but as the scene went on you came to the realization that it was one of the best scenes you'd ever watched when watching porn, even though the actress was good , it almost seemed like regular video — besides the bright production lights and 4k hd cameras , and the fact that the beautiful actress herself was dressed in expensive lingerie and heels. her makeup done to the nines.

and then there was jeno; he was just as fine on video than in camera. his voice alone had you itching to touch yourself, which you did— fingers ghosting over your nipples; eyes closing. you almost forgot about the video, until you heard moaning. you opened your eyes to jeno sticking his cock into the girl. believe it or not , you weren't fucking just anyone , you actually only had sex with a few people , but their sizes compared to his were vastly different.

you understood why he was so famous; jeno was extremely good at his job. it was like you were watching a real couple fuck in their bed; jeno was rough; but not like those horrible videos where it looked like the girl wasn't enjoying it — the way the actresses eyes were crossed, it looked like she was very much enjoying it.

you curled your fingers up into your g-spot, thrusting your fingers in and out of your dripping hole. your moans , jenos and the actresses filled your empty room. you wanted to drop the phone and just finish already, desperate to cum , but you couldn't, it was like you were in a trance. the actress came with a loud scream. “oh fuck.” you moaned as jeno brought the girl to her knees , cumming all over the girls face — lord how you wished it was you.

your legs crossed over your hand as you came, back arching off the bed. “fuck!” you sighed as you came down from your high , the next random video playing on your phone. you turned it off , desperately trying to catch your breath. he had this effect on you and all you did was watch his videos.

getting up to clean yourself off; washing your body and your hair. getting out , drying off. you threw on an oversized shirt not bothering to put on underwear, it was just you. grabbing a snack before making your way back to bed to watch tv.

meanwhile a few miles away; jeno sat in his chair scrolling through his feed. he hated night shoots , everyone was tired and ready to go home. the actress today just wasn't good , her acting sucked , she was bitching about everything; how she hated the script; how the outfit was ugly — how she wanted him to cum. he was all for women wanting to what they wanted , but damn how was it his fault he wasn't turned on enough to cum as much as she wanted.

“jeno?” his manager and best friend jaemin , walked into his dressing room. “is it time to go?” he said, not looking up. “well … no, she's still complaining, something about you being too big.” jeno smirked. “so we're figuring that out now.” he said. “can we just sat fuck this shoot and go home?” he said. “im doing them a favor, i don't need the money.” he said. “yeah sure.” jaemin said. “what can they do?” he told the assistant on hand to tell them they were leaving. “what did you want?” he said, putting on his sweats. “when? oh to just show you this.”

he pulled the sweatshirt over his head; taking the phone from his friend's hand. “what am i looking at, who is this girl?” he stared at the screen , watching you talk. “she's cute , new girlfriend?”

“i don't date, she's a camgirl.” he scoffed at his friend. “her?” he looked at you once again. “stop fucking around her?” you looked so innocent, dressed like a doll , cute makeup, cheeks extremely pink from blush, normally jeno thinks that makeup look is crazy, but you made it work. “she doesn't even look like she's seen a porn film.”

“not everything is what it seems my friend look.” he clicked another video— and he swore he was watching another girl. “did she just?” jeno was shocked. “yes , she did.” his friend smirked while he stared in shock as he watched you take a 9in toy down your throat without gagging. “no gag reflex , if she has a boyfriend he's a lucky fucking bastard.”

jeno pushed the phone away; not that he didn't want to see it, but he also didn't want to cum in his pants to a video in front of his friend. “why are you showing me this?” he said. “you know i don't do camming.”

“yeah , but people want you both to collaborate. apparently she talked about you today and the internet is going crazy.” jaemin said. “she has good following , not as big as yours , but that shouldn't even matter , bro she doesn't have a gag reflex , i’d do it for fun.” jeno picked his bag up, slinging it over his shoulder. “does she even have a manager? does she even want to do porn? why am i asking the questions that i pay you to already have answered before coming to me?”

“she's a independent artist i think, but I'm sure she'd answer a dm.” jeno lifted his eyebrow. “yeah , because she'd answer a random message asking her does she want to do porn , bro she gets those messages daily.” he said. “im sure i could work it out.” he said. “well then come back to me when you do.” jeno slapped his friends chest. “now let's go im hungry.” he said. “i’ll send you that link to the full video , you have to see it.”

“which one did you watch?” haechan asked. “why are we having this conversation right now?” you said cheeks red. “you've literally told us about how you — the recent one.” you interrupted ryujin before she embarrassed you. “i watched the recent one.” she nodded. “oh that one is good, that actress is hot.” she said , hyuck nodding in agreement. “she is.”

“she was, they both were.” you said. “and the acting was good , i actually watched it.” haechan pointed. “told you sometimes the plot just hits.”

“i thought i was watching a couple fucking, either one , that actress is in the wrong business or two , he's a good fucker and she wasn't acting.” you said. “she actually looked excited for him to cum on her.” you could still hear the moans playing in your head. “okay snap out of it , no one wants to watch you get turned on in public.” ryujin said , haechan scoffed. “speak for yourself.”

you laughed , your phone buzzing making you break away from the conversation; it was a message from twitter dm. you ignored it , thinking it was a normal everyday dm from a fan. you sat your phone down only for it to go off multiple times. “girl you got a boyfriend we don't know about? who the hell is texting you like that?” ryujin picked up your phone. “probably a weird fan, im gonna close my dms”

that didn't stop ryujin from clicking the messages, ready to troll the person. “oh girl , i don't think so.” she handed you the device back. “what is it?”

reading through the text messages. “what is it , don't leave me out.” haechan whined. “it's from jenos manager.” ryujin said , haechan sat up from his seat. “what let me see.” he snatched the phone. “oh my god , jeno wants to film with you.” he said. “it's like the porn gods answered us.”

“must you act like a neanderthal? it's probably a fake account.” haechan clicked the account. “it's verified and there's pictures of them together , they seem close.” he said. “he wants you to call him , he gave you a number to call.” he gave you back the phone. “oh my god let's go back to yours so you can call.”

they basically dragged you back to your apartment after that, forcing you to call the boy. “you both have to shut the fuck up if i put it on speaker.” you said typing down the number into the keypad. “probably about to call a random guy just so he can jerk off to my voice.” you pushed the call button. “don't you do that already.” you scoffed. “yeah but i get paid for it.”

the three of you sitting around the bed waiting for them to answer. “hello?” you picked up the phone. “is this na jaemin?” you said. “yes is this yn? i know your voice— wait, not like that.” your two friends snickered. “it's fine, i almost didn't call you, i thought you were a weird fan.”

“understandable; it's probably a weird text , but it me and everything i sent was true.” he said. “it is?” your eyes widened. “s-so he really does want to film with me?” you asked. “yes , he does.” you wanted to squeal , but you didn't want to seem desperate. “oh that's cool.” you said. “oh that's cool?” ryujin whispered to herself. “shut up.” you gritted through your teeth. “excuse me.”

“oh nothing.” you said. “oh okay, well first thing, we set up a meeting with you both.” he said. “just so when you film it won't be too awkward , then we film.”

“that's it?” you said. “that's it , you both show up to film, we'll provide everything else for you.” you looked at your friends who nodded their heads. “how does that sound?” he said. “i guess that's fine.” you said. “great! i’ll let him know, are you free tomorrow?”

“tomorrow? uh yeah sure im free.” you said. “great i'll send the address where to meet us see you tomorrow!” you hung up the phone. “oh my god i can't believe that just happened.” you tossed the phone down on the bed. “this is crazy , you get to film with lee jeno.” haechan said. “i almost want to be in your shoes.”

the next day you got ready for the meeting; putting on your best outfit — so you wouldn't feel so nervous, and maybe to impress them a little. jaemin had sent you the address the night before and lucky for you it was in walking distance from your place. “im almost there's , so I'll call you back when it's over.” you said the restaurant in your view. “you better and be careful , just cause there hasn't been a serial killer porn star, doesn't mean there can't be one.” ryujin ordered. “okay im here.”

you quickly said your goodbyes, before hanging up. you reached for the door , walking into the restaurant. you looked down at your phone, ready to send the man a text when someone tapped your shoulders. “yn?”

“oh hi.” you smiled. “i was just about to text you.” you put your phone away. “you're right on time , jeno is over there.” he said “let's go.” your hands were sweating from nerves as you approached the table , the man himself coming into view. “don't be nervous, he's not as intimidating as he looks on camera.” he said. “jeno.”

the boy looked up from his phone; and he almost did a double take. you really didn't look like what you did for work; gorgeous? yes. but he just couldn't see you doing what he saw you do the night before. “oh shit.” he stood up. “hey.” he said , holding his hands out. you reached for his hand , shaking it. “h-hi.”

“both of you sit down , sit down and get comfortable.” jaemin said. “before i give you some space , let's go over the details.” he sat down. “okay.” you smiled.

jeno didn't need to listen; jaemin would just repeat it over for him — instead he just looked at you, studying you. he watched you fiddle with your nails while listening to his friend intently. his eyes traveling down to your lips, biting the bottom one. “jeno?” jaemin knocked him out of his thoughts. “what?” he watched you shuffle in your seat. “i said you understand all that?”

“yeah , yeah i do.” he said. jaemin knew he didn't , but he'd explain later. “we filming on wednesday, it will only take one day , but it's a all day shoot is that fine?” you nodded. “of course.” you said. “that works for me.”

“good , now i'll give you both some time to get to know each other.” he stood up. “i’ll get you both some food as well.” he walked away. “thank you.” you called out, it fully hit you that you were left alone with jeno again , he smirked watching you shy away once again. “i guess this is the real you.”

“h-huh?” you asked , he sat up; putting his elbows on the table, watching you. “the bows really do change how one would look at you.” your hand came to your head. “no , keep them in , don't take them out.” your hands immediately went to your lap. “cute.”

“me-me?” you gulped. “is anyone else sitting there love?” your cheeks were flushed , to jeno it was like your already pink cheeks were now red. “here you guys go.” jaemin came back with two plates. “i ordered enough steak for you to share , and some pasta.” he said. “i’ll leave you two , jeno play nice , she's perfect for this and we don't need you scaring her off.”

“go ahead.” he said. “eat.” you picked up the fork nervously, picking up a slice of the meat. “now put to your mouth and eat it.” it felt like he was gonna eat you alive , you put the steak to your mouth , biting it. “good girl , i can already tell im gonna like you.”

“so tell me , why'd you want to do this?” jeno asked. “do-do what?” you asked. “do I need to spell it out baby , porn what made you want to do this?” he said. “most camgirls stick to that.” you sat the fork down , taking a sip of water. “well it's kinda stupid.” you said , he waved you off. “tell me.” he said. “well my friends told me i’d be good at it.” you said. “and you just listened to them?” he raised his eyebrows. “you must agree with them.”

“i guess.” you said. “i didn't really understand what they meant by that.” he sat back listening. “i do.” he really did , truth is jeno spent the night before watching your past streams , and fuck did you put on a performance. he had to force himself to put his phone down before he started shooting blanks , his hands and his cock covered in his cum as your moans played over and over on his phone. “well why do you do it?”

“me?” he asked , shrugging. “because i like to fuck.” he laughed, watching your eyes widen. “don't look so surprised baby it's really not that surprising,” he said. “i like to fuck and i like making money , why not do both?” jeno never wanted to be a pornstar , his main dream was to be a model , turns out it wasn't that easy — but it was easy to pick up a camera and film himself fucking. “b-but you're a model , you don't need to do this.”

“you're right i don't , but here we are.” he eyed you up and down , eyes shamelessly stopping at your bust. “just like you.” he said. “y-yeah.”

“you've watched a few of my videos haven't you?” he asked. “i watched yours.” you wanted to lie , but how could you when he was being so truthful. “a few.” you gulped. “so you know im not gonna go easy on you right?” the way he talked so confidently it sent shivers down your spine. “but im sure you can take it right?” your body hot. “i mean im bigger than what you've taken but im sure you can learn to take it right?”

“i can take it.” you said, quickly covering your mouth. “yeah? let's see on thursday.” he bit his lip. “give me your phone.” he said. “here.” you handed it to him. “you listen well , i fucking love that.” he typed down his number. “i don't give my number out to every actress.” he said, handing you your phone back , jaemin returning back to the table. “we have to go soon.”

“that's too bad , we were just getting to know each other.” reaching for your card. “relax , im paying.” jeno said. “i-i have money.” you said. “i'm sure you do , but i didn't ask.” he said. “yn do you need a uber?” jaemin asked, but you were too busy making googly eyes at jeno. “oh no , i-i live a few minutes away.” jaemin nodded. “well it was nice to meet you , why don't you head out first and we'll stay behind and settle this.” you smiled. “thank you.”

“just show up on wednesday as you are ready to film.” you nodded. “of course!” you smiled, about to walk away when jeno grabbed your hand. “your phone love.” you took it from his hands. “thank you.” and just like that , the boys watched you leave out. “you done making googly eyes?” jaemin said. “can i take you home so i can get to my date?” jeno rolled his eyes. “hey don't get upset with me, nothing stopped you from following behind her and getting a pre show of wednesday.”

wednesday came quick; you have a busy few days before — you wanted everything perfect , getting your hair done; waxing your eyebrows and other areas. you hadn't used the number jeno gave you , scared to use it , even though your friends encouraged you too. “you're about to have his cock inside you , this phone call would be nothing.”

still you didn't budge; it probably didn't even bother the boy, he could've easily called someone else.

the production had arranged for a car to pick you up from your place to take you to a location; you read the script on the way there , it was a simple script since it was your first project on this scale — something about neighbors. it really didn't matter to you, you were excited but nervous. “we're here miss.” it was an actual house; a nice one.

you got up to the car , thanking the driver. “okay.” you said to yourself. “let's do this.” you said, the door was open so you just walked in , people running around, cameras and lights everywhere. “you must be yn?” a woman came up to you. “hi?” you said. “you are?” she smiled. “im kim , I run the production company that films the videos jeno is in.” she said. “you do?”

“yes i do; is it a little weird because im a woman?” you shook your head. “no of course not!” you said she laughed. “we're all about comfortability, to make sure you and the actor are both comfortable.” she said. “jeno is already on set , he's normally never here early.” she said. “actually he's normally late.” she said. “but enough about him , let's get you to your dressing room.”

she guided you to your room, opening the door. “this is your first shoot so i wanted to make sure everything was perfect.” she held your back guiding you in. “we have a stylist that will help you , along with make up who will make you even more beautiful.” she was extremely nice. “thank you so much.” you said. “don't worry about it , just get relaxed and ready to film some scenes.” she said. “the stylist will be in here soon , make-up as well.”

she left you alone after that , you looked around the room , she laid out a display of snacks that made you smile — your phone ringing , you took it out of your pocket , furrowing your eyebrows at the unrecognizable number. “so your phone does work.” you recognized the room , whipping around. “je-jeno.”

he walked into the room. “it's been a busy week.” you said. “yeah?” you nodded. “you aren't wearing the bows today,” he said. “gonna tell the stylist to change that.” you nervously took a step back. “i like the bows , let's put them in the movie.” you nodded. “ok-okay.” he was close enough to smell his cologne. “relax , im not gonna bite.” he said. “at least not now.” you squeaked as he pressed against you. “later im not promising anything.”

“i could definitely take you right here right now.” he confessed. “give you a quick training on taking me before later.” he said, his body looming over you. “but i kinda want to wait until later.” he smirked , your knees almost buckling under you. “let's wait until later, yeah?” he said. “ye-yeah.” you sighed in relief when he stepped back , finally letting you breathe. “i’ll see you in a bit love.”

you didn't have time to process what just happened before the stylist and the makeup artist both shuffled in. “out jeno out we have to get her ready.” he was quickly pushed out. “gosh.” the stylist said. “he's never here this early all of sudden he's early.” the makeup artist turned to you. “well there's the reason right there, you are gorgeous.” you smiled. “th-thank you.”

“let's get you ready.”

the outfit wasn't much different from what you normally wear , just a lingerie version meaning it was much shorter; so short you could see your ass , poking from your panties — but it was still cute. “you look pretty.” the stylist said, picking up the bows. “per jenos request, hope you don't mind.” she placed the bow in your hair. “done.”

they left , kim returning soon after. “you ready.” you nodded. “let's go.” she guided you to the front where the scene would take place , the cameras ready. “yn , hey.” jaemin said. “oh hi.” you waved back. “you look nice , you ready?” you nodded. “i'm a little nervous , this is much different than my room.”

“don't worry about it; it's your first big production.” he said. “just do your best.” he reassured you. “jeno is done with make-up so we should be starting — five minutes!” someone shouted , you giggled. “in five minutes.” he said. “good luck.”

“the scene starts with you in the kitchen.” the producer guided you to the kitchen , leaving you alone. you leaned over the counter , scrolling through your phone while you waited. “you look too good right now.” jeno caged you in between his arms. “th-thank you , you smell nice.” it just slipped out your mouth. “oh , i-i di-didn’t — you smell nice too.” he said , your cheeks were already red enough. “makes me want to eat you up right here.” he didn't know how much he really was effecting you , anymore of what he would be doing and you'd be begging him to fuck you right there. “okay actors , get in position!”

“good luck princess.” he walked away, leaving you to pull yourself together and get ready for the scene. “are they actors ready?” everyone got into position. “okay, rolling in 5…4…3…2…1 , start !”

the scene went exceptionally well; it was build up scene that leads up to the actual sex scene — but even those scenes were hot and heavy; at least jeno made it like that. it took a few hours to film , making sure to get every angle. “okay great, the next scene jeno you what to do.”

jeno didn't know if he had it in him; the resistance as the camera guy yelled for the scene to start again — the strength to hold himself together once he got his lips on you; he was a professional, but with you it felt like his very first scene.

“you can do what you want.” you spoke up , back into character , you were a natural — almost like you were talking to him outside of character. “what did you say?” he said , damn near forgetting his line. you looked down at your fingers. “to me , you can do what you want to me.”

there was the girl from the streams; it flicked just like that; your other persona , the one from the restaurant that told him you could take it — and he was about to put it to the test. “i can?” his big hand wrapping around your neck. “you don't know me that well but you'd let me do what i want to you?”

that was basically your current situation with the man; yeah you had only met him four days ago, but you'd let him do whatever he wanted , on and off camera. “y-yes.”

“that's real whore like of you.” his hand squeezed your throat. “real whore like.” he said, slamming his lips against yours. unfortunately the scene took place on a couch so he didn't have much room to work with , but it didn't mean anything to him — besides he'll just fuck you into your mattress on another day.

the kiss was rough; his hand squeezing your throat as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “fuck.” he cursed, pulling away. “get on your knees.” he pushed you down , the camera close to your face as he unbuckled his pants. “gonna fuck your face.” he pulled his cock out , it was definitely bigger than the dildos you were use to. “hey.” he slapped your face. “come on, be a good whore and suck my cock.”

he grabbed the base of his cock , slapping it on your cheek. “open slut.” he shoved his length inside your mouth , and much like your previous streams , you took him into your throat without gagging. “yeah , fuck swallowing my fucking cock like that.” he groaned , holding the back of your head moving you up and down on his thick length , also moving his hips. “cock sucking slut , how many cocks has this throat taken?”

he was using your mouth; the cameras all there filming it turned you on even more , the many people watching in the room as he fucked your face made you hornier. “yeah fuck!” he had to force himself out of you so he wouldn't cum fast. “get up.” he pulled you up , throwing you to the couch. “ass up, now slut.”

he pulled the dress up , revealing the matching color set they put you in. “dumb slut is wet from sucking cock.” he slapped your ass , you moaned , he pulled your panties down , your folds covered in your slick. “messy pussy , gonna stuff you full of my cock.” he maneuvered your body on the small couch. “arch your back.”

he pushed your head down on the couch seat. “gonna make you take it all at once.” your whimpering turned into screams as he abruptly shoved his entire length into your pussy. “hell you're fucking tight.” he groaned , pulling out slamming back inside. “fuck!” he began to fuck into you , holding the back of your neck. “such a whore.”

his thrust were brutal and unrelentless; the camera catching everything — his cock stretching you out more than you've ever been, the squelching sounds from your cunt it was embarrassing, having people hear that ; but the embarrassment soon was forgotten as he went deeper. “my fuck -oh my- oh my fucking god.”

he let out a lust filled chuckle. “so stupid baby.” he slapped your ass. “my cock really made your brain turn to mush.” he abruptly pulled out of you , slapping your ass , your legs shook. “turn around.” he flipped you on your back.

you looked up at him with teary wide eyes. but he could see the lust in them. “that innocent look doesn't work on me.” he slapped your cunt. “i can see through whores like you.” he lined his cock up with your hole. “innocent looking but ready to take any cock they can get.”

this new angle had you reaching for anything , jenos arm; the couch cushion — his cock had you grabbing at the air. he pulled down the front of the lingerie , your tits now bouncing along with his thrust. the rumors proving to be true as you felt your orgasm approaching. “you're clenching around me , fuck your pussy is suffocating my cock.” he growled. “fuck im gonna cum!” you screamed out. “cum slut , wet my cock with your cum.”

he had your legs open wide , holding your shaking thighs. “cum.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, soaking his stomach and the seat below you. a high pitched moan coming from your mouth as he kept going. “fuck keep cumming on my cock.” he slapped your poor clit rubbing rubbing it. “yeah im gonna - fuck - im gonna cum.” he groaned. “fuck im gonna cum all over your face.”

he pulled out of your twitching hole , standing over your face , stroking his cock. the camera was up close again as he came — and he came a lot. he groaned, throwing his head back as he covered you in his seed. “fuck.”

you laid out on the couch , his thumb still rubbing at your clit as your reached your final orgasm , your thighs shaking uncontrollably. “cut!”

jeno almost forgot about the camera; ready to bring you to another orgasm. “je-jeno.” your shaking voice pulled him from his horny state. “shit im sorry.” he pulled away , desperately wanting to taste you. “almost made you squirt again.” he smirked. “now how would we explain that? because the camera is off.”

“get her a cover.” he shouted , someone running over to you both , he covered your body. “jeno.” they handed him a robe. “you did so good.” the staff handing you fluids. “felt like watching a couple have sex , you're a natural girl.” you nodded with a smile. “are you a natural princess?” jeno spoke up once they were gone. “or is it because those screams were real?”

you lowered your head , shying away from his gaze. “don't hide from me now , i know your real persona , and these cameras maybe done rolling, but i'm not done with you yet.” he whispered , just as you were pulled from your seat by a staff member and whisked back to your room. “you ready to go?” jaemin came over. “no need to drive me home tonight,” he said. “why not?” asked Jaemin.

“because im not going home tonight.”

©️LUVYENI

[heartfullofleeches]

Vendetta [Magical Boy Yan] with a magical Scientist Reader who experiments on the monsters they fight and is generally just one of the worst magical people to stumble across. It's a mystery as to why Reader does what they do - they hardly have any compassion for their fellow humans and laughs at the ridiculous idea they're performing these experiments to turn these creatures back into humans. The ones that used to be humans that is. They've crafted weapons and armor from the skin and meat of their enemies, but they grown old of their toys before long. Many have asked. The answer remains the same.

"Why do I do this?.... Because it's fun I don't know what else you want me to tell you."

Vendetta swears he hears wedding bells- A ruthless, coal hearted scientist with zero regard for how the public views them who also happens to have a sadistic streak? Where has Reader been all his life? Drags monsters and crooks alike to Reader's doorstep in exchange for a reward - Money doesn't mean shit to Vendetta when he could have front row tickets to Reader's next surgery. I see Scientist Reader being a med student outside of their magical persona which Vendetta would tease them about, but totally sees as a bonus because nerds are hot.

Weakens the locks on Reader's cages so their pets can escape and he can live vicariously through them when Reader comes to collect them.

Reader tries to kill Vendetta when they first met, but upon realizing he likes getting the shit kicked out of him they bail because he's a freak.

Reader is stronger than Vendetta in their magical form, but weaker in their normal because I like the idea of that.

-

[Scientist Reader presses the heel of their boot against Vendetta's neck as they stand over him, sneering down at the man as he gasps for air]

Reader: You disgust me. Any last words before I remove your vocal cords?

Vendetta: You should spit in my mouth. I'd reallllly hate that- Here, I'll show you how to do it.

[Vendetta sucks blood from the split in his lip - spitting upwards directly into Scientist Reader's mouth.]

Scientist Reader: Mother-FUCKER- That went into my mouth! Why does your blood taste like battery acid?!

Vendetta: I'm waiting~

-

Scientist Reader: Give it back.

Vendetta, holding Reader's id card out of reach: Aw, this what you normally look like? You're pretty cute for a dork. I could totally take you.

Scientist Reader: Oh, please- I've beaten your ass more times than I care to remember.

Vendetta: Who said anything about a fight.

-

Vendetta: Got photos of you leaving that old abandoned library. Must've nicked yourself pretty bad down there- All that blood on your clothes...

Scientist Reader: And what do you plan to do with those photos?

Vendetta: Jerk off?- Tf else do you want me to do with them?

[axelsagewrites]

Hi, love your work!

Can i request modern!au Aegon X reader os, with a lot of fluff?

Battery Acid and $20 caffeine*Aegon

Pairing: modern!aegon x barista!reader

Word count: 900

Warnings: pure fluff, shy aegon

Masterlist here

Aegon didn’t even like coffee, yet he easily spent $30 on it a week. It all started when he kept yawning through an econ lecture and Erik all but dragged him to their campus’s coffee shack. He’d stayed up all night on a paper and his eyes barely stayed open on their walk over.

They snapped open though when a pretty smile greeted him. “What can I get you?” you smiled sweetly.

He tried to recover from his daze as his eyes glanced at the sign behind you. All the words looked jumbled up. Damn maybe he should sleep more. “Whatever you recommend,”

“You like sweet stuff?” you asked as you grabbed a cup and pen. Aegon nodded, scared the next thing he said in his sleep deprived state would ruin any chance he had, “Name?”

Fuck now he had to speak, “Um Aegon?” why did it sound like a question? He could hear Erik snickering behind him.

“Alrighty,” you just grinned as you wrote something down on the cup and passing it to your colleague, “That’ll be $7.24,” For coffee?? His eyes almost popped out his head, but he just awkwardly smiled as he paid. This better be one damn good cup of coffee which would be hard since he hated the stuff.

-

He did his best to force the Carmel sweetness down without making a face as he sat across from Erik. “Why not just ask her out?” he’d asked him, but Aegon gave every excuse under the sun, “Why do you think your cup got a heart and not mine?”

Oh god he was right. Maybe you wouldn’t laugh in his face if he went up and asked. “Fuck it,” he whispered before standing up, ignoring Erik’s attempts to hype him up as he walked to the counter.

Then it happened. Your shift ended. Your apron came off and you said bye to someone before walking out from behind the counter. You smiled at Aegon when you past him, but his mouth dried up and the only thing he could do was grab a sugar packet from the counter and trudge back to his seat.

-

The next day when he bumped into Helena after class and she told him she was going for a coffee he instantly invited himself, “You don’t even like coffee?”

“Maybe I wanna spend time with my lil sis?” Heleana just looked at him sceptically.

Unfortunately for him you weren’t there and the coffee he got still tasted like cardboard. “How can you drink this stuff?” he grimaced.

“Why did you order it?” she rolled her eyes before waving to someone behind him.

Aegon glanced over his shoulder and turned back with amber cheeks. “You know her?”

“Yeah?” Heleana shrugged, thinking her brother must’ve been possessed at this point, “She’s in my history of ancient civilisations class. do you know her?” Aegon just shrugged but a wide grin spread over her face, “Omg, you like her,”

“My god shut up,” he basically hissed, “Besides I don’t even know her name,”

“Not yet you don’t,”

-

After much begging Heleana agreed not to tell you about your secret admirer but the secret was wearing thin since despite drinking coffee constantly this month, Aegon still grimaced when he drank it.

He was sat at a high-top table on his laptop when you came over to clean off the last customers rubbish next to him. “You know the shop next door sells red bull?” you said, making him jump, “I’m just saying,” you laughed, “you never seem to enjoy the coffee here and it’s so expensive anyway,”

“I-I don’t mind it,” he stuttered, his cheeks tinging pink, “Besides it’s a good place to study,”

“What’s your major?” you smiled when it dawned on him.

oh shit, she was really talking to him. “Business, boring I know. What about you?”

“History, boring I know,” you joked.

“No, no I think its interesting,” he said, relieved not to be looking at his spreadsheets anymore, “What kind of history?”

“Mostly ancient stuff. We’ve just started our ancient Valarian unit. Did you know that-” your smile instantly dropped, “Shit my managers back,” you quickly turned to grab your spray from the table.

It was now or never, “Maybe you could tell me more about it sometime?” he stammered, his flush cheeks turning beat red when you smiled, “Over coffee or something?”

You laughed this time, “How about over a red bull in the park?”

-

What was supposed to be an hour or two long park date turned into a picnic when you hit the three hour mark of chatting with no signs of stopping. Your local shop came to the rescue with snacks and red bulls. “I can’t believe you drink this stuff,” you gagged as you sipped the glorified battery acid.

Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle, “Now you know how I felt,” After walking you to your dorm Aegon finally let out a sigh of relief. He’d got a cute girls number, she laughed at all his jokes, and most importantly he’d never have to deal with $20 coffee’s again.

Well, that was until you moved in together a year later and he spent $200 on a coffee machine just for him to make you your morning latte. It was all worth it though once he saw your smile. It was priceless to him after all.

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@maidmerrymint

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Midnight Temptation

Sweet Seduction

An encounter with a handsome, intriguing stranger who has his eyes set on you. Are you prey... Or something more.

This will be a series of blurbs featuring Vampy Steve!

As always, my works are 18+ MDNI! This one does not contain any smut.

CW: This one is pretty mild. Smoking. Mentions feeding on humans/blood lust. Vampires. No use of Y/N.

WC: 1.6K

The chilled autumn breeze catches you off guard, as you tighten your coat around yourself. Early October winds stripped most of the reds and yellows from the trees, littering the sidewalk with its array of discarded foliage. A pity none crunch under your feet, dampened by the rain that seems to be never ending this week.

It's only another few blocks but the sudden drop in temperature wasn't what you expected today. Then again, you hardly ever caught the weather forecast.

Glancing at your watch, you picked up the pace, trying to avoid another earful from your boss for being late. It was just a shitty dive bar, you could easily pick up another shift at a handful of places around the city, but you’d just gotten the job a month ago and didn’t want to start looking again so soon.

Arriving just in time, you barreled through the door to avoid any backlash, but your spirits were immediately dashed when your boss told you the other waitress called out with no replacement, leaving you alone for the night.

It started out easy enough, a few regulars filtering in that were easy going but before long the place had gotten packed. You were making a mad dash around the place to keep up for the rest of the evening into the late night.

He had slipped in easily, going unnoticed, weaving through the crowd with sure and measured steps. Women took notice as he passed by, along with a few men, as he navigated to the dimly lit booth in the far corner of the bar making himself at home, spreading out and making himself more comfortable. His long legs stretched beneath the table, crossing as the ankle.

You were taking a couple's drink order, pausing mid-sentence when his eyes caught yours. He was shrouded by the dark, but for a moment you could have sworn his eyes were glowing amber before he looked away.

“Are you even listening to me?” The blonde bimbo squeaked, snapping her perfectly manicured fingers in front of your face pulling your attention back to her.

“Shit, yeah, sorry. That was a gin and tonic for him and a cosmopolitan for you, right?” Plastering your best fake smile across your face as you said it. She rolled her eyes replying with an annoyed “yeah.”

You nodded, eyes drifting back over to him as you walked away but he was gone. It had only been a mere few seconds and somehow, he had managed to sneak away. Quickly surveying the room, trying to catch a glimpse of this mystery man, you spot a head caramel highlighted tresses slipping out the door into the night.

Weird.

You checked the rest of your tables before telling your boss you were taking a smoke break, walking through the kitchen and out into the back alley.

-

He was walking downtown late one evening, making his usual rounds. Local dive bars, near the east side, frequented by vagrants and some homeless. They were easy prey, though he had to watch the addicts, their essence tasted like battery acid, burning the entire way down.

He looked for people that weren't believable. The ones that if his mind manipulation failed, no one would bat an eye at thinking an actual vampire lurked in the streets and shadows of Indy. His thoughts drifted to Eddie, how easily he could ease into someone's thoughts, simply by gazing into their eyes. He had always been so much better at making sure no one remembered his late night visits.

He was close to his usual spot, a small diner situated near an alley that was backed up to a row of abandoned warehouses when he caught a scent of someone intoxicating that hit him so hard and potent it stopped him in his tracks.

His body was on autopilot following his nose and blood lust to a small dive bar on the edge of town. He stepped in, eyes quickly searching everyone in the dimly lit bar, but no one stood out right away.

He grabbed a booth at the far end, half shrouded so he could watch the room without being noticed and that's when you stepped out from the back.

His senses were flooded, causing him to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Why you? Why were you so special?

When he allowed himself to look back up, you were staring directly at him. He knew his eyes were burning embers as his canines suddenly pierced his bottom lip, hissing to himself from losing control as he looked away.

You were distracted once he had regained composure, so he quickly moved to leave.

His cold, dead heart suddenly felt like it was pumping blood through his body again, coursing through his veins at a rapid pace. That nervous trepidation when meeting someone that made your stomach flip overtook him. He hadn’t felt like this in years, not since he was still alive.

He HAD to get out of there.

He turned the corner to take the alleyway to stay away from the crowds on the main strip and maybe snag a quick late night snack.

He was taking his time but then you walked out. He moved lightning fast, his back pressed up against the brick exterior of the adjacent building, silently watching you from the shadows.

Inhaling another deep breath, he willed his lungs to expand, relishing your scent this close and personal without the obstruction of other people.

He'd never smelled anything like it. It was sweet. Strawberries and honey, an alluring mixture that called to him like a siren's song, one that he couldn't ignore. It was too tempting to steer himself away before crashing into the rocks and letting you drown him.

He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from his mouth as he stepped out of his hiding place.

-

There were a couple of old crates stacked in the corner by the dumpster that everyone used as a makeshift stool. You plopped yourself down onto with a heavy sigh, pulling out a crumpled pack of smokes and lighter.

“Great.” Huffing to yourself pulling out the last one and placing the filter between your lips, lighting the end with a cherry red glow illuminating your face.

The back alley was dark, except for one streetlight to the left at the main road. It was quiet. You relished in the few peaceful moments you could steal away from the loud music that faintly trickled out.

You took a long drag, holding the nicotine laced smoke in your lungs for a few seconds, slowly releasing it, when you heard a gravelly voice from the shadows.

“Those things’ll kill you.”

Your head shot toward the sound, heart rate ticking up slightly with the knowledge that he had obviously been watching you.

Slowly he stepped out into the light, worn denim jeans on long legs, slim waist and an expansive chest, clad in a simple black v neck t-shirt under his matching leather jacket. Your eyes trailed slowly up, a silver chain around his neck catching the light and reflecting it back to you when his face was finally revealed.

He was handsome. Too handsome for a place like this.

From your vantage point, you made out his strong jawline and aquiline nose. His dark eyes seemed to look straight through you.

“Sorry, if I spooked you.” Rushing out as if he could feel the tension suddenly radiating from you, making a show of his hands taking another step in your direction.

“You make it a habit of skulking around in dark alleyways?” You smirked, sliding the cigarette back between your lips. There was something about him that intrigued you, your eyes shifting to examine his charming exterior, but it felt like there was something more dark lurking just below the surface.

The words slipped out before you realized it, that snarky, tough girl attitude seeping through but he simply grinned, amused with you.

“Not usually.” He kept his gaze firmly fixated on you as he spoke, giving no other explanation. “Got a smoke I could bum?”

“Sorry, fresh out.” Making a show of crumpling the empty pack and tossing into the dumpster as you stood, finishing the last of yours before stubbing it out. “And I need to get back to work.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure, pretty boy. Yo—”

“What'd you just call me?” His suddenly demanding voice cut you off as you turned back around, suddenly face to face with him, startling you once again wondering how the hell he got across the alleyway so quickly.

“Wha— I,” your brows marry with confusion. “I— pretty boy?”

“Why'd you call me that?” He asked, leaning further into your space. This close you could see his eyes were a golden array of warmth.

“I don't know. It just— your eyes are really… beautiful.” Blurting out without a second thought, as if those eyes had you pinned under some sort of spell.

He suddenly took a couple steps back, looking away and breaking whatever the moment was.

“I'm sorry, I— you should go back to work. Sorry I bothered you.” He backed further away and turned, working his way towards the shadow. Hoping it wouldn't be the last time you'd see him; you spoke back up.

“Aren't you coming back in?” You rushed out.

“Maybe some other time.” He lamented, a hint of regret in his voice as he stopped but didn’t turn back around.

“Well, can I at least get a name, or do you just prefer pretty boy?” You smirked.

“It's Steve.” If only you could see the smile that split his face. It had been a long time since he'd told anyone his real name and he's still not quite sure why he told you.

“Well, Steve, guess I’ll see you around.” You smiled, as you headed back toward the door without waiting for a response. You gripped the handle and peered back in the direction he had just been walking, but much to your surprise he was already gone.

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Do you have any headcanons about the Ghoul's cum? Is it an unusual color, taste, or texture? Is it radioactive? If you look at it under a microscope, do the sperm cells look mutated? Can he get someone pregnant? If he cums inside someone, are there any side effects?

I feel like my answer to this shouldn't start with "I have actually given much thought to what ghoul cum would be like", and it shouldn't be as long as it is, Anon, but here we go:

I headcanon that being a ghoul does make you infertile, especially as a man...early on. Radiation is a massive sperm-killer so I think all the human sperm would be wiped out pretty damn quick. But I think if you manage to stay alive long enough into the ghoulification process (which can be instantaneous or can be drawn out over years and years), your boys could possibly adjust and "heal" from being so damaged by the radiation and start producing sperm again. In the lore of the games, there are records of ghouls reproducing with one another (though it is not elaborated on at all and is apparently rare), so why would it be out of the realm of possibility (in the Fallout universe) that they could reproduce with healthy humans?

I think it would take the right human, the right ghoul, and the right conditions (my heart says 'radstorm', but I know how deeply corny that is), but I do think it's possible for some ghouls to get women pregnant.

I don't think their sperm themselves would necessarily be remarkable under a microscope; sperm having multiple heads/tails, no head/tail, and other malformations already exists in human men, and the number of them visible in a sample is used as an indicator of sperm quality. I think, that close, a sample from a ghoul would just look like a sample from a regular man with poor quality sperm.

The semen would be very radioactive after a few years, especially if you had sexual contact with an older ghoul or a still-sentient glowing one like Jason Bright or Oswald the Outrageous. I think it has a bit of a strangely-colored hue and I think it's thicker in consistency than before. You will absolutely get sick from it (especially if you swallow it) if you don't properly prep with Rad-X. Expect all the traditional symptoms of radiation sickness (fever, fatigue/fainting, confusion, vomiting, red inflammation and burns in the places you had direct physical contact, bleeding from the nose/mouth, unusual bruising) if you don't, and have Radaway ready for afterwards. What's the stuff for if not saving us from ourselves?

When a ghoul cums inside you, you can absolutely taste it, like you rested a nickle on the back of your tongue. You'll really hate it at first, but eventually you'll come to tolerate, even like it. Try not to let them "shoot up the club" every single time, though, since it'll probably leave you incredibly raw and sore. It's also long-accepted ghoul-fucker canon that your sentient ghoul lover cumming inside of/all over you can hide your scent from feral ghouls.

When I tell you that shit would taste so bad, I'm not even sure I have the proper words for what I think it would be like. Sort of like licking a battery combined with the bitter, acidic flavor of bile (and also the taste of semen, which doesn't exactly taste great anyway). You'll probably try to be sexy and brave and at least let your ghoul lover cum on your tongue once, but trust me when I say you'll never offer again. Especially since their regenerative abilities make them cum buckets every single time.

Godspeed, ghoul fuckers. We wouldn't do it if we weren't willing to risk a little rad exposure, right?

[hottiehiei]

- NSFW Alaphabet with Hiei (but I pick the letters I want)

nsfw (but its not overly explicit), gender neutral

i used the word c*ck… im so sorry. i literally hate that word but i had to.

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

𓆩⟡𓆪 A = Aftercare

Hiei has unlimited stamina compared to you.

While you’re worn out and exhausted, he’s barely breaking a sweat. He simply looks down at you expectantly, even when it’s clear you won’t make it through another round. The need for rest overpowers all of your senses, and you’ll drift into a soundless slumber, leaving Hiei alone.

Of course, this ticks him off. He scolds you for having such a weak human body— all the while massaging your hips and thighs because he knows they’re aching. It’s mostly his fault, so he tries to compensate by doing small things like wiping your body clean.

Hiei watches you rest, grateful to have you by his side.

𓆩⟡𓆪 B = Body part

His Jagan eye is his favorite body part. He has a full view of your entire body. There isn’t a single thing he misses, not even the shiver that crawls over your skin when he tears off your clothes.

Hiei also likes his physique. When you trail your fingers down his chest or claw at his back, he’s over the moon.

As for your body, he admires your lips. He likes the way you pout when he pulls out of you, and the way your mouth hangs open from pleasure when he thrust back inside of you. Or best of all, when your lips wrap around his cock.

Hiei really enjoys kissings. He will bite your lower lip, suck on it, pull it with his teeth, you name it.

𓆩⟡𓆪 C = Cum

The taste is bitter. Literal battery acid. Do not recommend.

𓆩⟡𓆪 F = Favorite position

Hiei favors any position that involves you being at his mercy.

There’s this undeniable urge to bind your wrist, spread your legs further apart, and kiss you senseless. If the position hinders any of that, then he doesn’t bother with it.

Occasionally, he’ll let you on top, but be ready to endure some teasing. The minute he notices you getting tired or struggling to take him…

“So predictable. All that begging for nothing.”

“Just say the word and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

𓆩⟡𓆪 K = Kink

He gets turned on when arguing.

Don’t be fooled by his calm tone. He lets you think you have the upper hand, meanwhile he’s plotting. Lash out all you want, it only makes him want to put you to the test. The more you push his buttons, the more he’s thinking about bending you over and making you beg.

Seeing you act aggressive toward other people also turns him on. Whether it’s yelling at one of the boys or knocking someone over the head, he’s impressed.

The fastest way to rile him up is to physically tease him. Keep it brief and subtle. Whisper in his ear when no one’s looking, he’ll get aroused just from fantasizing about you.

Reel him in little by little, then scurry off before he has a chance to capture you. Hiei loves it.

𓆩⟡𓆪 O = Oral

He prefers to receive, mostly due to the power dynamic. You’re below him, looking up through your lashes, doing your best to please him. It gets him going every single time.

The dirty talk is ruthless, but hot.

“I know you can do better than this. Don’t expect me to praise you.”

“Relax your throat and take all of it.”

If you allow him, he’ll grab your hair and guide you deeper.

He’s good at giving oral though. If you can handle the teasing, edging, and overstimulation….he won’t disappoint.

𓆩⟡𓆪 P = Pace

Hiei is naturally fast, so that’s usually the normal pace.

But if you’re one to enjoy it hard and fast, then he might purposely slow down. He wants your body brimming with lust before letting his impulses take over.

Other times, he’ll skip the foreplay and take you how he wants, just from sexual frustration. Don’t even bother asking for a break, he’s too focused on how good and tight you feel, his mind hazy with pure desire.

𓆩⟡𓆪 V = Volume

Mostly grunts. He’s gritting his teeth, holding the noises in. The only time you can get a full moan is during oral or when he’s close to his orgasm. It’s a pleasant sound. Deep and husky, like his voice dropped a few octaves.

✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻✧༺✧༻

extra:

𓆩⟡𓆪 W= Wild Card

Hiei is a brat tamer.

[princessbrunette]

jj and battery acid?? i can’t 😭😭 it definitely tastes so nasty like i can imagine reader like swallowing it for the first time and she’s just staring at him with this like look and he’s like “ what? “

reader politely cuddling up to him after and being like “jayj… i think we should eat some more fruit and drink more water. what do you think?” pretending it was a random thought and he just turns and looks at her, halfway through shoving leftover pizza from a box into his mouth like “shit, did it taste that bad baby?”

[dev1lm4n]

untold

pairing: post-outbreak!joel miller x brothel worker!reader

summary: fragments of memories during your gradual (and rather horrendous) infatuation towards your number one frequenter, joel miller.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: explicit (18+) mdni, oral f receiving, sorta dark undertones but honestly joel's a sweetheart

notes: do reblog or comment if u enjoyed it! don't be shy to hit my ask box as well ;)

Love is stupid.

It’s lawless and frankly, holds no value in the realm you’re familiar with. Love could only exist in a world of unsullied brilliance, orderly conversations, washed hands, clean clothes, and good manners. Untarnished by the hands of the wicked, of the seven deadly sins; where birds sing out morning hymns and festive lights strung out wintry nights. Only then can love flourish. To think that such an innocent tenderness could exist within your barely nine feet by six room would be utterly idiotic. 

“You gotta pack the cigs first.”

“Huh?”

“God, you’re helpless.”

You didn’t even realize he’s tucked in a crisp stick on the very corner of your lips. His brown eyes gentle on yours as he flicked his lighter on, effectively igniting the tobacco-filled end in a slow drawl. Inside Boston’s most popular brothel after the end of government and the start of flesh-eating monsters, it was never brighter than the gathering gloom of dusk. Even at midday. It was always bleak. The bed was a plank of wood on legs, thin quilts and a ragged blanket hardly helping you through winter. But with him, it’s always a warm furnace. 

His rough fingers were quick to snatch the worn-out box of Marlboro from your loose grip. Exquisitely, he proved his familiarity with the product by ‘packing’ the filter against his palm. You weren’t sure what the action provoked, but it still had you looking up at him with stars in your eyes - twinkling fondly as if he’d just pulled out a magical rabbit out of a top hat. He looked down at you with such reverence, a little too much respect for the common whore you were, though you undeniably basked in it like fresh summer air.

Joel Miller was your light at the end of the alley. Your beacon of hope. 

“Breathe, girl.”

He chuckled oh so lovingly.

“You’re strugglin’ like a damn rookie. Come on, girl. I know you got this,” he spurred on like a goddamn sports coach.

Ungracefully, you retched on the new stench entering your airway. The taste proved to be unsuited to yours as it left some sort of disgusting filament sheet over your taste buds, yet you struggled to keep it on the edge of your lips.

Whatever Joel gifted you needed to be preserved or consumed in the finest way possible; it was a rule consistent to every paying patron you’ve dealt with, though it’s a compulsory need to be met when it comes to him. He was so engrossed in the entire fiasco playing out that he failed to give you the next crucial step to smoking a cigarette - to inhale.

“It tastes like shit, Joel. This is worse than Johnny’s battery acid cum.”

“Yeah? What ‘bout mine?”

Without giving you a much needed warning, Joel let his fingers tentatively slide along your neck. He was moving with such expertise, as if he knew exactly where the windpipe is, where you’ve been struggling terribly to inhale. He dragged his forefinger down a straight line before finally cupping the base of your neck in a firm grip. Commonly, when a customer manages to get you in a situation that’s prone to escalate dangerously, you’d be quick to retaliate. With him, it was.. different. You felt at ease, even when he’s practically in the position to strangle you.

“You taste good.”

You grinned sheepishly. Joel’s eyes traveled from where red consumed the wilted edge of your cigarette to your heaving chest. Still bare with prominent buds making their grand appearances, though the sweat from your previous endeavors had finally dried down into a light sheen. You’re undeniably angelic in the midst of all the monstrosity occurring all around him, in a way that cleared his mind and freed him of his terrors, and it sparked a feeling of guilt deep within him. You didn’t deserve this. Any of this.

“Another go at it then?” 

“Joel!”

It was the fourteenth of February.

Not until Joel Miller came prancing around with a fucking bouquet. 

Valentine’s day used to be a big deal around Boston. You could still conjure up images of the old world; a symphony of vibrant colors. Streets were adorned with heart-shaped decorations and shops showcased a dazzling array of chocolates, obnoxious bouquets, and greeting cards. The smell of cocoa and vanilla was still vivid, embedded in the back of your head even after years of being exposed to the reeking stench of sex and sweat. Working in a brothel, you learned to exploit people’s needs for romance and affection, even so, no madman has ever gone out of their way to put some thought into romancing a whore.

“Mmph.. oh.. right- right there.”

“Please, Jo- Joel. My clit. It’s right- please, no.”

Your eyes fleeted down towards where he’s located - right between your trembling thighs. He nestled his tongue towards where your natural heat is radiating from, effectively lapping up every spurt of wetness that managed to escape from your twitching hole. His tall nose constantly nudged at your bundle of nerves, each time causing your back to arch and your pelvis angled directly to where his sloppy muscle is located. You’ve told him your worries; that you were a hooker for fuckssake, you fuck guys for a living and that’d instantly make you deem unworthy of being eaten out.

Joel didn’t care one bit. Not when you’re making such sweet noises at his ministrations.

“Gotta be patient, pretty girl.”

He’s making a show out of it and it drove you insane. You averted your gaze away from him, head lolling to the side to meet his handmade bouquet propped up loosely on the small bedside table. They were fresh, some open and others in bud; you’re a little bummed you’d never get to see the ones in bud flourish as your little room was equal to a jail cell, lacking natural light. A prudent shade of pink caressed each petal, yet the kind of color that feels confident, proud to bring a newfound radiance to the shabby furniture.

The flowers felt like a mockery, a tongue stuck out to your face, everybody knew he was a madman for bringing you such gestures.

“Pay attention.”

He demanded, a carnal need for more laced in every syllable that dribbled off his lips. Joel’s eyes stuck to yours and in that moment of truth, you’re both spellbound under each other’s magic. Times like these made your brain race into untouched territory; of whether he loved you beyond the messy sheets and hushed whispers, of whether you’d escape the brothel and strive for your own. He was quick to ground you as he caressed the sides of your vulva with his ring and pointer fingers, tickled the needy hole with his middle, and pressed his thumb along each and every groove as he sought for where you ached the most.

A gentle lick upwards initiated a sharp jolt that could only be described as electrical. He pressed the end of his tongue flat against it again, then twirled gentle circles around it, and all you could do was twist the worn bedsheets in a messy crumple, splay your legs out more, and submit to his wishes. This was your gateway to heaven. He brought you the only kind of heaven you’d beg on your knees for - not the ones of unadulterated truth and clarity, but the one that’s true to the shrill, sullen, and violent world you’re living in.

It was beautiful. A moment you’d like to snap and pin with a red magnet to the refrigerator door, but it’s fleeting nonetheless.

Fuck Joel Miller and the way he’s making you feel.

“Don’t stop. Please.. please.. oh, please.”

You pleaded with all your heart, body, and soul. Nirvana was near; you could see your salvation in front of your two frantic eyes, presented among the stars scattered everytime you closed your eyes, but he cut his little performance short.

“Not yet, sweet girl.”

“You’re just my kind of man.”

Stuffed inside a dimly lit alley, amid the patronizing starlight and the warm milky glow of the moon, you leaned idly against a chipped cobblestone wall. Your figure was clad in a worn-out dress, edges tattered and stitches pulled from extended use, that hinted at both vulnerability and resilience. The night air carried a symphony of whispered conversations, muffled laughter, and faint clinking of glasses from underground taverns. It was humiliating the way your hopeful eyes met fleeting glances of passerby, assessing each one for a spark of interest, but this was your way of living. Your way to survive.

A tug on your rod, a salt and pepper man approached you with hesitant steps. You recognized the look in his old wearied eyes easily: curiosity and guilt.

“You really are. I’m really good, you know, Cherie.”

With practiced ease, you mustered a welcoming smile and gestured him to come closer in a way that made it seem like you’re withholding the world’s biggest secret. You had a certain charm when it came to attracting patrons, choreographed mannerisms that portrayed you in the sweetest manner possible. A small shy shrug here and a gentle tug of your lacy sweetheart neckline, you became a femme fatale. A true enchantress on the prowl. 

It’s one of those nights where you’re eager to make a score. Joel Miller, your number one frequenter and main source of income hadn’t popped his nose in for a whole week, and despite your thriving loyalty to him, you’d rather stash up on credits than starve. The need didn’t necessarily sweep off the guilt. You felt wrong for scouting strangers from the street to offer your services, to cater to their curiosity and help them crush the weight of societal expectations, to return their diminished ego. It felt like you’re betraying him. Another stupid thought of yours that hit the curb as soon as the older man caressed your side, his grimy fingers dirtying the pure cotton.

You felt disgusted, but really, it’s just like every other day.

“Everybody says I’m pretty.. and all the other men like me.”

He’s falling. You could watch the exact moment in real time as he weighed out his options, making peace with his moral compass.

“Don’t you like me?”

“How much-”

Bingo! Bells dinged above your head. Jackpot.

“She’s mine for the night.”

What you saw first was his thick finger, dug upon the male’s shabby shirt, forceful enough that the fabric underneath crinkled in an uncomfortable manner. Dirt underneath his nails, fingertips coarse from all the physical work he’s exerted, and everlasting scabs decorating the ends of his knuckles. You knew who it was before he brought his face to light - onyx orbs oozing off disdain as he peered from your potential patron’s shoulder. Joel could kill a man from how tightly he’s eyeing you, up and down, side to side as if trying to reason with your misdemeanor.

You watched as your ‘Cherie’ scurried off into the dark, a slow whistle drawed out of your jutted lips.

It was pissing you off. His fucking audacity.

“I’m not yours for the night,” you chimed stubbornly.

“Yeah?” Joel closed any visible gap between the two of you, trapping you between the chilly wall and his heaving chest. Your eyebrows knitted with jeering derision and in return, he scooped up every last flaky ration card from his pocket and stuffed it in your balled hand. “Now you’re mine.”

“You’re always mine. Morning, day, and night. Fuckin’ remember that in your pretty little head,” his voice taunted each and every part of you as his scruff made sweet contact with your helix. You shuddered, rocked with adrenaline. “Can you do that for me, girl?”

“Yes.”

“What’s this from?”

You sat by Joel’s relaxed knees, prim behavior with your calves tucked underneath your thighs. Gentle eyes illuminated by the gentle sway of brilliant gold. By the flickering yellow the room is dark, the shapes of the furniture distinguishable but the colors were so muted that they are almost gray. It was a different kind of night; there was a prominent uneasiness in the way he’s studying you, the lines he’s provided as guidance slowly blurring away with each and every flicker of amber. He’s never done this before. Laying loose in front of you, letting you unbutton his flannel, having you set the pace - you weren’t sure what he’s trying to convey with the sudden acceptance.

Joel is a man of closed doors, and so the prospect of seeing what’s behind thrilled you.

You looked up at him. Eyes interlocked in some kind of mutual understanding as your hand extended, cold fingers ghosting over his bare skin, and only when he gave you a hesitant nod did you let it crane down. He jolted ever so slightly, a twitch in his hooded eyes. Your thumb ran over the expanse of his lightened scar. It felt odd. Not in a weird way - just in a different, intriguing way. In a way that kept you tuned to the intimate aspect of the exchange.

The most you’ve seen from him was his pelvis bone, the thick of his unshaven bush, and his cock. He’s always made sure it’s all about you, despite being the one paying. And you respected that, all the time. Though it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t want to tear at his clothes, tug at his remaining buttons, unbuckle his belt with both hands to see all of him.

You refrained nonetheless. It looked like it was taking all of him to be this open, you wouldn’t want to scare him off with your rashness.

“Got bitten by a very scary zombie.”

He lied, adorably, was he trying to make you smile?

“Joel.”

He’d die happy at the sight of you right now.

“I thought we’re tryin’ to make this fun?”

“Fun, sure. Not absurd!”

“Okay, okay, it’s uh.. I wasn’t careful with a knife.”

You hummed softly. Not entirely sure if it was more so a mundane kitchen injury or a mugged-in-the-street injury. Your eyes traced the contours of his chest, a canvas sculpted with strength and tenderness. With sweet delicateness, your fingers continued their journey; gliding ever so softly over his warm, smooth skin up to where his gallbladder is supposed to be. Speckles of gray and black coarse hair trickled over your adventure. Each sensation rippled through your fingertips, awakening your senses to the subtle textures. Every stroke was a personal exploration, an expression of gratitude. This was where you found your solace.

“This one?”

“A trip over to Vermont gone wrong.”

“Drugs?”

He hesitated. A beat of silence from the two of you emphasized the noises from beyond your thin walls: a myriad of moans, foul words, and skin slapping.

“Somethin’ like that.”

And so, your voyage proceeded, each movement a testament to the admiration you held towards him. You wondered if he felt the same way. If he’s ever thought of the fruitless hopes you held towards him. If he’d ever longed for your existence the way you did everytime he missed his scheduled visits. You need him in the most desperate way possible, beyond the way he buried himself inside you, beyond the amount his physical existence could give. Lost in your own thoughts, you let your fingers lower.

Lower.. lower.. and lower until it rested over his clothed cock.

“And what’s this from?”

“You.”

Joel Miller has an odd habit.

Every girl in your brothel knew that he’s a peculiar one; no man has ever been this dedicated to a hooker before, to the extent where you’ve had some curious questions, wondering if he’s proposed to you or do something of the sort. Men are greedy pigs who could only take and take, every whore has established that, so the sight of his reverence astonished them. He’s too good to be true. A once-in-a-lifetime abnormality. What they’ve yet to discover was of his equally peculiar habit.

Joel loved leaving a small reminder of him everytime he’s forced to leave in weird hours of the night. A small, brightly colored post-it that’s frequently left with a stack of ration cards - always insanely over the common charge - and a trinket of some sort if you’re lucky. What he wrote consisted of a broad variety. An extension of his intrinsic need to capture and remember fleeting thoughts, to show his deep fondness of you, to let you feel the parts he’s too afraid to reveal. You’ve always chalked it up to sympathy. A poor whorehouse girl like you needed pitying and he’s doing that to fix his torn morals. 

You’d rather die than commit to the thought of him being in love with you.

He couldn’t possibly be. He’s him and you’re you, the two of you have established that.

Out of the many he’s left in your shoebox-sized room, the first one will always be the most memorable one. You remembered that it was in the peak of summer, heat almost seared your skin off your bones as a group of cicadas screamed their hearts out. The establishment is finally quiet at four in the morning. Most guests have finally stopped their endeavors and spent the night holding their pretty whores or leaving satisfied, and so you finally have the time to yourself. To relish in the satisfying silence. You lit a new candle and saddled it in its special nook - a spot on your bedside table that’s garnished with remnants of wax.

Your eyes met your pay. A good stack that was equal to three days worth of food and a place in the brothel.

Satiated, you reach over to make a proper count. That was when you discovered the vibrant yellow square, greeting you with a mystifying aura. Scribbled with a smudged wet ink, you predicted he used some kind of ballpoint pen to write the remark. Your first thought was of how corny it is. A snort uncontrollably left your lips as you observed the object closely. Never in a million years would you expect a brothel visitor to leave behind a hearty “Thank you for being here tonight” note.

You used to consider them strange, but over time you found yourself looking forward to the trivial gesture.

“Stay safe” was a quick and easy one. 

“You reminded me that life is full of surprises” bore through your heart even when it made you cringe. 

“Smile for me, pretty girl” had you by the throat.

“Can’t wait to fuck you good” elicited warmth between your thighs. 

“I’m gonna miss you” made you long for him.

This morning was the same as every day. You rose from your slumber at exactly four in the morning, grumbled at the sharp sensation down your bad back, pulled your sheets at every edge, lit a lone candle, only then could you finally relish in the daunting silence. It was so quiet you could hear every beat of your heart, every time you inhaled coldness and exhaled warmth, every time your heart squeezed at the fact that he’s not here. Just like every other day, Joel Miller left you alone. In the dark.

Your line of vision moved from where your legs were planted on the freezing wooden board, to the very top of your bedside table. This was where he first broke the sacred routine, because there wasn’t a thing on top of the rotten wood. Your pay’s not there and moreover, his post-it notes were nowhere to be seen; it’s humiliating to admit you’re a lot more concerned about the latter.

Colors drained from your face. The pink from being so deeply enamored with his gentle affection, the red from being wrapped up in a lustful haze over him, the blue from being left in the dark when he knew just how much you despised it - each and every last emotion mingled into a puzzled mess. In frantic panic, you kneeled onto your knees to try and see if it dropped down underneath, but nothing met your hand other than a glob of dust and hair. Your hope slowly began to dwindle, tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of being swindled. He wouldn’t do that, would he? That was until you made the decision to pull at your drawers with a sharp tug.

What you saw was even more baffling.

Your tongue went dry.

There were stacks upon stacks of ration cards. Every single color available at your disposal: grass green, tan, olive, and faded salmon. You’ve never seen that many officially-issued ration cards in one place before. It exceeded the amount held by soldiers when giving out pay, exceeded the best tip you’ve received in the whole year  you’ve worked, exceeded foolish dreams you’ve had of it. You let your fingers run through each fold, instinctually counting the number in each band when you knew for a fact that it’s much more than you’ll ever need. There’s a catch to this. 

You continued to rummage through your drawer, searching for his note, anything that might give you a clue to what the sudden influx of pay may signify. What met your fingers next was something blunt. Hard, stiff, and cold so it must be a metal of some sort. You took hold of what you could only assume to be the handle. Lo and behold, you’ve just discovered a revolver, it’s metal surface tarnished with age. Your heart raced as you gingerly picked up the weapon, the weight of it unfamiliar and dangerous. Joel has always hated when you interfere with his world, of guns and drugs, of robbery and murders, so what’s with the change of heart?

Beneath where the revolver was hiding was the item you’re looking for.

His note.

“I’m heading West. Tommy needs me.”

He’s not coming back. He doesn’t have to say it word for word.

“Ration cards will last you three months at best.”

Droplets of salty tears started dirtying your cheek as you clutched onto the note. Your heart shattered with each and every word, his instructions painfully etched deep in your wounded soul. You need him, you breathe him.

“Gun’s loaded. Use it to keep you safe.”

The words on the paper, though seemingly innocent and void of any emotions, held a sanction of finality.

“Leave the brothel. Find some place safe.”

Time seemed to stand still as you retreated further into yourself. This was your way out, yet it stung like shards of glass.

“I lo-”

Your eyes glazed upon the tear on the very edge of his note. A sign of cowardice. You knew what he meant to say, you knew what he tore off the page better than anyone else.

Fuck Joel Miller and the way he made you feel.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

south africa but i've never been there also i'm drinking

HELLO MAGGOTS this is the good omens mascot here hello hello. my psychiatrist just spent today telling me how I won't be able to be out in college when it starts in May and I'll be misgendered etc etc it's all a good time. So my solution:

My darling cousin @imchronicallyonlinesowhat (the one who thought Sir Terry Pratchett looked like Sudha Murthy, was a kindly old woman and was married to Neil Gaiman because their book cover fonts were similar, OG maggots know the PAIN) who lives in South Africa asked me to make a South Africa post. FYI, she's moving to Australia for college, so you can be assured I shared my Australia posts with her she is SO prepared she won't say marmite instead of vegemite and she knows the Wibbles are inherently sexual. SOUTH AFRICA (I've only had a teeny weeny bit of cheap ass wine so far):

There a lot of white people there it's ineffable. There are enough of them there that my cousin regularly talks about not ever marrying someone who doesn't have some masala.

Afrikaans is a gorgeous language. I thought my cousin was showing me her Afrikaans notes once. She wasn't. It was her English notes, she just has the most illegible yet neat handwriting in the world.

They don't say yo but they say YOH and it sounds very much like a bass drum.

People at my cousin's school pump their hands in the air while saying jesus-jesus.

There's a trio of white boys that rule the school kind of like a genderswapped mean girls. They all look the same haircut-wise, they're Catholic and they're called the Triumvirate.

I'm realising here that my knowledge of South Africa is limited to cuzzy's school. But the wine is shit and I promised my blood-relative so I am continuing.

The books are fucking expensive and so everyone has to pirate shit. This sounds like the US.

Everyone is TALL. Like VERY VERY VERY VERY VERY TALL. The standard of height is insanely different from India. TALL.

If you don't have a last name you're going to get into legal trouble.

The no hat no play rule applies here as well as Australia apparently.

The wine cost like 2.5 dollars in USD if my conversion rates are correct, it smells like battery acid and tastes of rotted grapes. Nothing to do with South Africa, it's just that I cannot remember a single other thing about South Africa other than it's a country in Africa that's presumably in the South.

My braincells are already frying. For my cousin's sake, I'm going to compile all my Australia posts here so that she knows what to expect! Australian maggots your continent is about to be graced with the Good Omens Mascot bloodline. Notably the one with the Sudha Murthy fuck up so that's doubly fun. @howmanyholesinswisscheese, @im-a-sentient-magic-carpet, @madfangirlontheloose @obsessed-sketches @drconstellation and any other Aussie maggots be prepared and welcome her.

Toot Toot Chugga Chugga by the Wiggles is an Ineffable Husbands Song

Deaths in Australia in 2015, an ask

VEGEMITE IS NOT MARMITE, another passionate ask

Pt I Australia but I've never been there

Pt II Australia but I've never been there

Oh I hate cheap wine. @imchronicallyonlinesowhat I hope you appreciate this, blood of mine. I'm such a great cousin.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here and this is part fourteen! Yes I messed it up this morning yes I had to wait all day to correct it it's all goooood

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Bart is a good egg who is having a Bad Time waiting for his friend :(

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up with a gasp.

He’s—where is he? Everything hurts. He can barely think. Danny groans, long and loud, and lifts up an aching hand to his temple.

His fingers come away green. Aw, fuck. What happened to him? What’s going on? Why is his hand…blurry? Is he concussed? Is something wrong with his eyes, or with his head??

(He hopes it’s not his head. It’s waaay easier to heal from one than the other.)

Danny tries to sit up, and— NOPE. Ow. Bad idea. Suuuuuch a bad idea. His arms and hands and his neck and his back are screaming at him, now that he’s awake enough to pay attention. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

He lays back down. His eyes don’t—well, they don’t shut all the way, which part of his brain labels as very bad, actually, but the world does turn darker and greener as he tries to shut his eyes, and that’s close enough to closing his eyes that Danny can mostly zone out past the pain.

He licks his sore lips. They taste like copper. And battery acid. …And Pixie Sticks.

Ugh, ecto-blood. His own, he assumes.

Everything is blurry and everything kind of hurts and he doesn’t know how he got here or what’s going on. Danny tries to roll over, tries to get more comfortable, but something starts dragging on the inside of his arm, which means intravenous lines.

Ugggghhhh. He hopes it’s got pain meds at least.

Awake him can deal with this later. Danny zones out, his labored breathing evens.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

*

Danny wakes up next to quiet murmuring, and to weird sensation of something moving in his arm.

He yawns—and his jaw cracks apart farther than usual, with more clicking noises than his jaw usually makes. Weird. His arms come up, his eyes unblur…

The tugging sensation doesn’t go away. Danny sniffs blearily. Blinks.

Two white-coated humans(…?) in PPE pause at his bedside, a half-dissembled IV shared between them.

Danny stops breathing. He can’t—is he—

His eyes go to the ceiling. The floor. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He doesn’t understand. Is this the Guys in White again? Is he— Did he never leave? Is he trapped? Danny doesn’t—he can’t—

—One of the white coats starts making worried noises, which. Danny’s never heard that before. It’s usually threats. They raise both their arms, and Danny flinches back—

…And so do they. Huh. Hm. Are the Guys hiring scaredy cats now? That would be a change of pace, if they were as scared of Danny as Danny is of them.

The second person clicks the new IV bag into place. Danny stops focusing on number one and starts focusing on number two.

They don’t make any overt tells either. The IV line is already in him, and the bag is… Well. It’s not red and Danny’s not in any pain, and it’s not green either. It’s just. Kinda opaque? Milky? The person doesn’t start cackling evilly or telling Danny how screwed he is, either. They both just sort of…tidy up?

The first one doesn’t get closer, either, but Danny can mostly tell that they’re scanning him visually. Their attention goes from his face, to Danny’s visible arm, to the puncture point in his elbow for the IV needle.

Danny also eyes his IV point. Well. It looks like a needle. Doesn’t hurt all that much.

Someone says something he doesn’t catch. But the tone isn’t…mean, or anything. If anything, it sounds quiet, and low, like they’re trying to keep him calm.

Danny doesn’t understand.

He moves as far out of the way of them as possible. It only has the effect of a few inches and it's so painfully slow. If that. He— he remembers. He’s supposed to be scared of— something. No, he knows it—

The labs. He’s supposed to be scared of the labs. The smell is rank there and there’s always screaming and Danny had been hurt there; really, really hurt.

He’s still hurt. He’s still in a lab. In a room. In some sort of too-small prison, and now his barely-sewn together lungs are trying too hard to keep air in his body and it’s not working, and—

Danny barely pays attention when the first doctor leaves. He sees the other back into the door and reach for the phone line, and he can’t stop breathing and he can’t calm down because that means that they’re calling for help and they’re going to hurt him all over again. Tie him down. Cut him open. Shock him, until he can’t breathe without screaming—

Someone new comes in. They look— rushed. Danny can see her actively tying up long black hair, threading a mask up over her face, pulling on one of those paper shifts the doctors wear. The only difference is that she doesn’t put boot covers on.

She has big, bright boots that go all the way up her legs. With his green vision, they look kind of…greyish? (Maybe they’re pink..?)

Either way. They look…ridiculous. Danny doesn’t exactly forget to be scared, but also…what the fuck.

The woman sees that Danny can see her. She waves.

Danny presses back against his— cot. Bed.

That doesn’t stop her. She pulls latex gloves from out of the paper slip she’s wearing and snaps them on, revealing a thin layer of something shiny underneath her elastic-bound sleeves. Once that’s on, she does a visible body checkup of herself: boots, gown, gloves, mask, hair.

…No hair net, though. Or goggles. The Docs in White always wanted to be fully covered when they saw their victims. Being able to see her eyes is a lot…friendlier.

She figures herself out. Straightens. Gives a double thumbs up.

…Danny's eyes roam around. There’s no one nearby. There's only a wall behind him. Is she looking at…him? Is that directed to him?

She doesn’t move immediately— and once she’s in, the second doctor leaves the room entirely.

…The new person takes over. She goes from monitor to monitor, getting closer, but with none of the focus on Danny, per se. She reads his stats, verbalizes them out loud, which, doesn’t sound like…English? But enough to confuse him? It’s kind of like trying to discern Esperanto when he's not thinking about how it's not English.

Ancients. The pounding in his head is getting worse. Maybe Danny has a concussion or something.

The woman doesn’t…get. Him. In fact, he seems to be the least interesting thing in the room to her. Her time is spent on reading the charts and the machines waiting around him, putting something into a…fridge? A Cabinet? In the corner of his room? And otherwise, she leaves him alone.

Until. She does get up and look at him, and all of Danny tenses up painfully. He can’t move. Something’s holding down his legs, his body’s stiff, and all of him is so tired that he genuinely can’t tell if his waist is tied down or if he’s just that exhausted.

He can hear his heart rate monitor kick up. He can’t move, not really. He tries to go intangible but his core just throbs with misery, and—

She mostly just pats his sheets. Not his person, even. Apparently the torture is being held off for now. “Eow eart wel?”

…Danny squints. That is almost English.

“Eom hebbjan yift,” she adds, leadingly, as if Danny is a friend she can tease and not a subject under threat of the knife. He doesn't like it. It hurts. Nothing is real and everyone hates him and all he wants to do is leave but his body is rejecting him and—

Something light and plastic thumps down onto the bed.

Danny blinks. He looks—down. (His neck makes him regret that.)

Is that a…is that a space shuttle? No, ‘cause Danny thinks he recognizes it. It’s Discovery? Isn’t it? That’s the one they just retired. He tries to grab it, but— ouch, oof, his fingers can’t even stretch, bad idea—

The woman gently guides the shuttle into his hand. It doesn’t even hurt. And.

It’s cold to the touch. The model is plastic, it shouldn’t be so cold, but the sensation is distinctly cool and kind of familiar.

…Oh. Danny struggles to flex his fingers around the thing.

It’s him.

Or. Well. The shuttle is his. It has his ectoplasm imbued all throughout it. He can even sort of feel the sensation of carefulplayingcareful he’d have felt while near it. The feeling is weak, and timid, but it’s still there.

So. Then. When did he get it? And…why? Why was it allowed to him? How did he get it?

Is this how they’re feeding him now? Instead of showering him with poorly filtered ectoplasm every time he gets rowdy, are they actually trying to feed his Obsession? For real?? That’s—that’s brand new behavior from the—

Danny blinks. Wait. That’s not it either. Because there’s an IV in him. So…they know he’s getting human food.

So. Uh.

Hm.

Danny doesn’t want to get his hopes up. But this…might not be the Guys in White.

Of course, they might not be better than the GIW either; it’s a total possibility that Danny’s getting suckered into some scheme where every gentle permission and soft voice is a debt he owes…some new reason to take…

His eyelids twitch as they try to shut. He’s so tired. Fear kept him mobile, but now…everything is so heavy.

The lady carefully shushes him, ever so gently. She pulls up his blanket for him. Pats it down.

Danny shivers. He’s so, so scared.

“Ræste þiht,” the woman whispers. The words sound fond. Danny’s so scared, but he’s so tired. His heart is beating so fast. “An freond becymþ hraðe.”

It’s reassuring.

Danny doesn’t want it to be.

He falls asleep the way the desperate do—clawing at the last traces of wakefulness, only to have his consciousness ripped from him.

[joltning]

how I see them cooking

church: the worst fucking cook out of all of them. just absolute horrible blames everything on caboose puts things to 10000 degrees and is like ☹️why did it burn ☹️wtf. has never made an edible thing in his life.

tucker: pretty good I mean he’s not making anything gourmet but any time blue team has to cook real food he does it and has to ban church and caboose cause they fuck it up so bad. might have some questionable tastes tho so his personal food is a little fucked

caboose: surprisingly not that bad but makes a Mess. it’ll taste good but still have an eggshell in it and the whole room is covered in ingredients

tex: pretty normal. she doesn’t seem like a big cooking fan though she might just eat an onion for the hell of it

sarge: good. but put him on the grill NOW. he needs to grill Now. he probably has a homemade rub that tastes bomb. he probably puts it on everything though and the rest of the team is shouting at him for putting pepper on his ice cream or something

simmons: bare minimum. he can make instant food and basic meals but he wings it or looks up a recipe. I can imagine he chops vegetables pretty fast

grif: well versed in the art of comfort food. he doesn’t really like cooking bc it takes a long ass time but he’s a good ‘throw shit in a pot’ kind of guy. shit is probably fire. I see him doing it when stressed maybe.

donut: all talk. great baker great mixologist never get him near a stovetop because he is starting a grease fire. even when he does cook a good dish it only looks really nice and tastes mid

lopez: honestly I’m not sure. im thinking a lot of simple meals with not a lot of spices cause he can’t. taste. but he sees them add like salt after and he’s like Oh Ok So you don’t like it. and spices it the fuck up. honestly might be the best cook of them because of versatility. he just downloads a shit ton of recipes once and never again

doc: everyone gets this but the Worst fucking healthy options Ever. to an absurd level

kai: she keeps fucking making infused foods and leaving them out. simmons had a weed brownie it was an experience. she’d make those ‘battery acid’ tiktok drinks go into a sugar high and pass out

locus: every time they have a cookout he brings a huge pot of mashed potatoes and gravy. no one knows where he gets it or when he has the time to make it. no one asked him to bring food

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 60

Part 1 Part 59

The party is already in full swing by the time they pull up. Drunk high schoolers out on the lawn wearing more thought-out costumes than he and Eddie had managed. Their plans before Nancy accosted them in the hallway involved a pizza and a couple tapes from Family Video that Eddie swears he has to see.

It'd been Eddie’s idea; he’d shrugged on one of Steve’s preppy polos – his words, not Steve’s – and one of his acid-wash jeans, and pristine white sneakers, and called it good. Steve had gone along with the concept for lack of a better idea. He’d chosen his favorite Metallica shirt (the one with the hole in the armpit), a pair of Eddie’s black jeans, and Eddie's leather jacket. Eddie had grabbed his battle vest, pushing Steve's arms through it like he was a small child. It’d still been warm from Eddie’s own back.

To finish the look, Eddie had slid each ring off his fingers, matching them perfectly with their usual placements on his own hands. There was something about the way Eddie's hands felt, sliding up the vulnerable sides of Steve's fingers that made him shiver, goosebumps breaking out along his arms.

Eddie's hands had looked bare, almost risqué in their nakedness. Even now, while being packed in at all sides, Steve can't help looking down at them. He wants to push Eddie's hands into his jean pockets, hide the vulnerability of it from everyone else. He doesn't.

Almost the instant they walk through the door, Hargrove shouts, “King Bitch!” holding up his drink, as if to toast Steve’s arrival.

Tommy’s at his side, laughing like no one had ever said anything that funny in his life. Eddie’s fingers tighten around his wrist as he pulls him along.

Barbara and Nancy are hovering around the punch bowl, laughing. Nancy takes a sip of something that looks disturbingly red from her red plastic cup, and Barbara, while empty-handed, looks far happier than she had at Steve’s party all those months ago.

"Looks like they didn't need us at all!" Eddie calls loudly over the music.

Eddie’s bare fingers sneak under his sleeve to caress the skin of his inner wrist. Steve clenches his fist, relaxes it, wonders if Eddie can feel the flexing of his tendons beneath his palm.

“You came!” Nancy calls, handing her drink off to Barbara with a roll of her eyes, as she throws herself at both of them, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them into her smaller frame. She looks down at the pair of them, brow furrowed. “What are you two even wearing?”

The angle hurts his back, even more so when he turns his head to raise an eyebrow at Eddie, who’s already doing the same. “Well, you see,” Eddie says, trying to eel out of her arms with little to no success. “I’m dressed as the king, and Steve’s my noble jester, of course!”

Nancy opens her mouth, looking up at him with a bitchy expression, but Steve interrupts her, “I said we would.” He says it loud enough to be heard over the thrumming music.

“Are you drunk?” Eddie asks, looking at Nancy with befuddlement. Steve can’t blame him. Nancy’s behavior toward him can usually be called catty at best. Not that Eddie doesn’t usually give as good as he gets, but it’s still bizarre to see Nancy’s arm wrapped so familiarly around him.

“No!” Nancy yells, at the same time Barbara says, “yes,” with an exasperated sigh.

“I only had two drinks. When she pulls out of the embrace, she’s already pouting. “I only had two drinks.

Steve holds his hand out toward Barbara, who hands over Nancy’s drink, even as the other girl complains. Steve takes a tentative sip, curious. It goes down like battery acid. It makes him lightheaded and queasy instantaneously. Probably just from the fumes.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks, sputtering. He rubs his tongue with his fingers, hoping to scrub the remnants of that taste off his tongue for good. Eddie’s hand, where it’s still wrapped around his wrist, nudges against his chin.

“It’s pure fuel,” Barbara replies, laughter audible in her tone, even as Nancy nods enthusiastically.

Steve, still grimacing at the lingering taste, drops his hand, rubbing his saliva off on his borrowed pants. “That’s rancid.”

“This is what the Kingdom has fallen to without their King,” Eddie says with a sigh. For some reason, his cheeks are pink, like he’d been the one drinking that garbage.

Steve shrugs, “Carol always used to mix the drinks.”

“Of course, she did,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes.

Barb nods in agreement, but Steve had made the mistake of handing Nancy back her drink, so she was immediately long-sufferingly trying to corral her friend to stop drinking.

Steve flows into the groove of partying quickly. He fades into the music, smiles at his friends, lets the waves flow over him. He’s happy, with Eddie by his side, and friends coming in and out of view.

Enter: Jonathan Byers.

Steve’s breathing picks up, and suddenly the pack of bodies is suffocating. He can feel sweat slick his forehead, and his vision goes a little fuzzy along the edges. He pushes past bodies with no regard, ignoring the startled complaints that follow in his wake.

Steve grabs the lapel of Jonathan’s shirt in both fists, like a kid afraid of losing his Mom in the store. And he is; he’s afraid.

“Where’s Will?” he asks, pulling Jonathan’s t-shirt, stretching out the collar around his neck.

Jonathan’s eyes widen. He reaches out, covering Steve’s hands on his shirt and squeezing. “He’s fine,” Jonathan says. “He’s trick-or-treating with his friends.” There are spots in Steve’s eyes. “Breath, dude.”

Steve inhales, ragged and aching. “You didn’t go with them?”

Before Jonathan can answer, Eddie is there, big palms on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing. He leans forward, whispers in Steve’s ear. “Let’s go outside, sweetheart.”

Steve nods, letting Eddie lead him past the throng of partygoers, pulling Jonathan along as well by the hem of his shirt, still clutched in one of Steve’s fists hard enough to hurt.

They emerge out on Tina’s back porch. It’s dark, but the fresh air hits Steve and his lungs finally expand.

“Jonathan?” Steve asks, wheezy and breathless.

Jonathan meets his eyes, quickly pulling something out of his pocket. When Steve looks down, it’s a walkie-talkie, the same kind the party is so fond of using.

“He begged me to go with his friends,” Jonathan says, talking fast like he’s afraid Steve will punch him if he doesn’t get the words out quickly enough. Or pass out on him. “I told him he’d have to radio in every half hour, on the dot, or I’d call Hop.”

Steve breaths in, breaths out, feels Eddie’s hand steadying the small of his back. “And he has been?” Steve asks.

Jonathan nods, slow, like any sudden movements will spook Steve.

“Well, then!” Eddie says, massaging Steve’s shoulders quick and dirty a few times until Steve melts into his hands. Steve’s bereft when he drops his hands to join their impromptu circle. Eddie digs around in Steve’s pocket, pulling out a pristine joint with a quirked brow. “I think some of us could maybe chill the fuck out right about now.”

Steve rolls his eyes when Eddie looks pointedly his way, but dutifully swipes the joint from Eddie’s hand. He slides it in his mouth, feels it stick to the inside of his lip as he leans forward for Eddie to light it.

The first hit sends him coughing. Jonathan claps his back companionably as he passes the joint to him. Jonathan, suspiciously, doesn’t cough at all. Neither does Eddie, but that’s to be expected.

A few more rounds of puff puff pass, and Steve’s so relaxed he flows onto the ground. Eddie laughs, passes the joint to Jonathan, and plops down beside Steve, patting his thigh.

Eddie’s smiling down at him in a way that makes Steve’s stomach populate with butterflies by the handful. He looks teasing, like he’s thinking of the best thing to say. Steve suddenly knows he’s going to speak and then he does. “Are you alright down there, princess?” he asks. “All calmed down?”

He swallows his desert-dry mouth and hopes his voice comes out clear. God forbid he fucks up so badly Eddie invites Jonathan to warm his bed instead. “Yeah,” he says, throat cracking around the word. In a bid to redeem himself, Steve clears his throat, swirling his spit around to help rehydrate. “I can see the future?” he says, voice lilting upward at the end like it’s a question.

Eddie leans forward, hand patting Steve’s cheek gently. It feels nice. Steve leans into the touch. “Are you serious?” he asks. “Is this another superpower thing?”

Steve wobbles one of his hands together in a wishy-washy gesture that his brain gets caught in. It feels nice, the stagnant night’s air smacking against his palm so he does it faster, smiling.

“He’s just high,” Jonathan says, turning just enough that Steve can see the bottom of his chin. He looks weird from down below. Gargantuan.

Eddie flops gracelessly beside him, burrowing the back of his head into Steve’s ribs. “Damn, so you can’t see the future?” he asks, whining. “We could use another Supergirl.”

Steve’s too busy watching Jonathan to argue over not knowing any supergirls again. Jonathan’s leaning against the railing, and Steve knows, suddenly, that he’s going to take another drag from the dwindling remnants of the joint. And then he does.

“I can see three seconds into the future,” he says wonderingly, still smiling.

Eddie burrows his head harder into Steve’s ribs until Steve brings his hand up to pet clumsily through his hair. “Ugh, you got my hopes up.”

“I’m a supergirl.”

Jonathan and Eddie are laughing at him, but Steve’s looking up at the shitty overhang above Tina’s wonderous porch and wishing it was gone. He wants to see the sky, the stars splashing out above him. He wants to pluck them from the sky and put them, still flaming, into Eddie’s hair.

He wants.

Something answers his wishes. The overhang is gone, rotted away from above him so the white specks can rain down on his face. He holds up his hand, hoping it’ll be cold enough for snow. Even with the red sky, even with Eddie gone from beside him, Steve hopes.

But when he brings it down to his eyes, the stuff smears along his palm, just like ash. Maybe he can’t see into the future. He would’ve seen this.

He would’ve predicted the way the shadows stripe themselves across his face, blotting out all the red in the worst way possible. He would’ve predicted the way that thing seems to move without moving at all.

He didn’t.

Steve sobs, just once. And then, Steve does what he does best: he runs.

Part 61

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