#what is adulthood if not eating what you want how you want it

[sufferu]

I was asked for a snippet from the Dogshow series. I have delivered. As the exact scene was not specified, I decided for myself.

Dogshow: No Way Home

____

[“But no matter how pathetic I was, you and Mom still treated me the same as always,” Subaru said. “That’s what scared me most of all…”]

“They…” Emilia choked out. “They really did…They really did love him, didn’t they…?”

Otto thought of his own parents, and how patient they had been with him for all those years. He swallowed, fighting back tears.

“Those bushes there really are fascinating!” Anastasia was saying loudly. “They look just like some of the foliage we have back here, don’t they?! I wonder if maybe there’s been some cross-barrier transport of — of seeds or something! Or perhaps it’s just the convergent evolution Hoshin once described at work—”

[“I wanted you to say, ‘I don’t love you.’ ‘I despise you.’ ‘You’re not my son.’”]

“…What?” Ram croaked. Rem watched silently from beside her, carefully stone-faced as she watched this tragedy unfold. “Subaru, you wanted…what?”

Subaru didn’t answer. He had stopped moving a while ago. He was staring at the metia, unable to look away from his father’s face.

“I mean, really!” Anastasia continued loudly, a frantic edge to her voice. Mimi was nodding along theatrically from beside her. “I wonder if we could cross-breed exact replicas of those — what did you call them, Subaru?! Sakura trees?! If those bushes’ similarities really are just the result of convergent evolution, then—! I mean, I know for a fact we have trees very similar to those sakuras in Kararagi, so it’s not all that far off to conclude that we might be able to—!”

[“I wanted you to tell me that and throw me out. I wanted you to make me give up.”]

“…Oh, fuck,” Anastasia managed, finally unable to avoid listening to the conversation.

Next to her, Julius made a horrible, horrible noise.

Onscreen, Subaru continued to speak about how he had grown past these feelings. How he had found a way to live for himself, to start striving to better himself — and how the people he had met since had allowed him to do so. But Ricardo couldn’t focus on any of that, because all he could think was that THIS was the version of Subaru that his parents remembered.

A young boy, on the cusp of their culture’s idea of adulthood, who had suddenly retreated into his shell amidst disapproval from his peers. Who’s difficulties in interacting with others HADN’T been due to a difference in culture after all, with him struggling so much to make and keep his friends even back home that eventually he had felt that he had no choice but to give up in that pursuit entirely. Who had fled from his duties as a scholar and holed himself up in his room, refusing to leave for any reason except to eat. Who was constantly waiting for his two parents who loved him very much to revoke that affection out of frustration and throw him out.

Who was just waiting for an excuse to go and end himself, giving up for good.

Ricardo suddenly thought about Ana-bo. He wasn’t her biological father, but he had — he had bathed her, and fed her, and secured her work, and fought to protect her from unsavory types, and watched her grow up from a little orphan brat into a strong, capable woman. He had known her, and he had loved her, and she had become — family, to him, most definitely. In a sense, perhaps she could be considered his daughter after all.

What would he have done, if Ana-bo had — sometime on the cusp of adulthood — had withdrawn into herself so completely and utterly that she refused to socialize with anyone unless she were forced to do so? That she no longer tried to work, or learn new things, or improve her skills, but instead escaped into storybook after storybook about being whisked away to a place where she could be someone, anyone other than who she had been before? That she curled up in the corner of her room and waited for Ricardo to throw her out on the street, because then she would finally have an excuse to — to finally go and fucking kill herself?

Stop it, Ricardo hissed at himself. But he couldn’t stop.

He wouldn’t have let it get that first in the first place, first of all: he would have dragged Anastasia out of her room by force and force-fed her a decent lifestyle, if need be. In fact, part of him thought that Subaru’s father had been somewhat useless in that regard: had there really been nothing his old man could do to stop him from crawling into his shell and refusing to come out for several months on end? But even if there wasn’t anything he could do about it, he wouldn’t have abandoned her. Even if he were going by Kararagi’s age of adulthood being 15 where — Japan, it was called — their age appeared to be 18, he still would have known her for four, five full years, and that had been more than enough for him to start caring about her more deeply than he had ever expected being able to care about anyone. What would he have done instead? Well, the answer had to be “whatever he could.”

But then, what would he have done, if — in the middle of a depressive spiral so severe — Anastasia had vanished into the night without a trace? He would look for her, obviously. He’d spare no expense, either, and — and he’d keep a tally of every cent he spent, so that when he finally found her again he could shove the receipt in her face and tell her that she was going to work to earn back every last bit in order to make up for scaring him so badly. But then — if he never found her — he’d never stop looking, would he? Or maybe he’d be forced to stop? But then he’d still be waiting, and he’d still be putting up posters and asking for leads, and as the years passed he’d be thinking of what she might look like now, how she might have aged, what sort of life she might be living far away from home, hoping against hope that she hadn’t actually gone and—

But the reality would be worse.

It would have been better if this hypothetical Ana-bo had been given the mercy of a quick death, on her own terms. It would be better if Ana-bo had died just once. It would be better if she didn’t have to experience — being slit open and bled out, being drained of all her energy bit by bit, being thrown down a hallway and crushed by a giant flail in a place where she was supposed to be safe, being tortured by someone she had thought she could trust in the woods where nobody could hear her cry, being attacked by a pack of vicious, wild animals, being publicly humiliated and beaten half to death for the crime of being a brat in the wrong place at the wrong time, being forced to witness the corpses of all of the people she had grown to care about and told that it was all her fault, being kidnapped and tortured in a cave by a madman, being turned away as she begged and pleaded and prostrated herself for help, being chased by a vicious monster intent on erasing her from existence, being frozen to death bit by bit as a vengeful spirit forced her to suffer through every second, being possessed and forced to beg for a mercy kill right when it looked like the world was about to turn out alright, being blown up, being forced to watch as her support network was shattered behind her back once again as her closest friend was erased from everyone’s mind but her own, being forced to suffer again and again and again without an end in sight—!

Was it a mercy, that Natsuki Kenichi would be forced to conclude that his only son had gone and killed himself? Was it a mercy, that he would never find out the truth of what his child was being forced to endure in his absence? Was it a mercy, was it an injustice, what the actual FUCK was this horrible, horrible—!

“Ricardo?”

With slow, jerky movements, Ricardo turned to face Ana-bo. She was watching him with large, worried eyes. She had been so upset a second ago, staring at that metia with a slack jaw as she made a miserable choking sound, and here she was pushing that aside for his sake. How could he have ever deserved—!

“Mmph!”

Ana-bo made a startled noise as Ricardo practically dove for her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling him tight to his chest so that nobody could ever take her from his side. Normally she would protest this action greatly. But now, after a moment of shocked silence, that wise, kind, clever, wonderful daughter of his hugged him back.

“Ya don’t need to cry,” Ana-bo murmured. “‘M not going anywhere.”

In truth, Ricardo hadn’t even noticed that his cheeks were wet. He didn’t have it in him to be ashamed. All he could do was clutch her close and wait for the shaking to subside, bit by bit.

…If it were Anastasia, Ricardo would have prayed for someone to be looking after her in a situation like this. Father to father, he could do the same for Subaru’s old man if need be.

—Though, from the look on Wilhelm’s face, Ricardo wondered if his own involvement would even be necessary.

Wilhelm had his hands raised to cover his mouth in a decidedly uncharacteristic display, so horrified he was by the reveal of the prior state of that young boy. Subaru had… Subaru had…

This wasn’t what he had expected. A young, dumb boy who got into mischief perhaps a little too often for his own good, sure. But a youth who had shrank away from everything so completely, so utterly, that he had really begun to think that there was no future for him at all—!

What a horrible thing for a father to hear from his son. What an awful thing for a son to voice aloud — or to feel, in the first place. Wilhelm had seen blood and carnage and despair on the battlefield, but for some reason it was now that horrified nausea twisted his insides into knots.

“I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! No! No! Help me! No! I don’t want to die!”

Subaru hadn’t REALLY wanted to die. But — had he not fully understood that, back then? How could he not have known—!

(Wilhelm did not think of his own son, who…may have been left in a similar state. For all of his courage on the battlefield, the Sword Demon could not bring himself to think about that.)

[“FATHER HEADBUTT!!!”]

[Natsuki Kenichi slammed an axe kick down on the head of his beloved only son.]

Julius squawked loudly, abruptly snapped out of his horrified silence. Next to him, Mimi’s despaired expression shifted as she — mercifully — broke into peals of laughter.

[“A lot of what you just said bothers me, but you know what’s the worst?” Kenichi was scolding, suddenly rather serious. “You wanted me to hate you, so you tried to achieve that by playing hookey? Are you dumb?! And if you want to get me to throw you out, pick a more active method! Who would ditch their own kid just because he retreated into his shell?!”]

Ricardo — relaxed, just the slightest bit. At least…at least that old man had told it to him straight. Right?

[“You’re so twisted, you’re on the fast track to being an idiot!” Kenichi cracked his knuckles, grinning. “I’d be glad to set you straight by force if you want…”]

Wilhelm chuckled weakly, trying desperately to force down his turmoil and keep it cool. “Perhaps…Perhaps all fathers have that attitude, even beyond the Great Waterfall…”

Ferris said nothing. Ferris hadn’t moved an inch since the reveal that Subaru had been waiting for an excuse to go and die. Wilhelm didn’t…know what to do.

[“…But it looks like you’ve already been knocked down and stood yourself back up, so there’s no need.” Kenichi’s voice had softened, his fist relaxing into a hand he extended downwards to pull his son back up. Subaru smiled as he accepted it.]

“They really did love him,” Crusch echoed softly. “Didn’t they?”

Anastasia stared wordlessly at the interaction. A very personal sense of loss gnawed at the heart of the former hyena — and a sense of despair at the dawning realization of just how fucked up this situation really was seemed to take over her mind like an invasive species of poisonous flowers.

She reached forward and pulled all three triplets into her lap, hugging them close.

[“Remember what I said?” Subaru was saying. “I found a girl I like. Plus, there's a girl who said she loved me, despite the way I am. And neither one of them knows I'm the son of Natsuki Kenichi. In their eyes, I'm just Natsuki Subaru.” He sighed aloud. “No, in all of their eyes…I was Natsuki Subaru. I finally figured that out.”]

[“It took you long enough. You’re just now coming around to saying all this? I should whack you.”]

Emilia stared at the screen, eyes dull and faded. Rem’s were much the same. On one hand, it was wonderful to be told that Subaru had achieved something so precious due to their influence. It was perhaps the greatest compliment either of them could receive.

But, on the other hand…

[“Um,” Subaru was saying, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Sorry about putting you through—”]

[“If you feel sorry, all you gotta do is take your time making it up to us.” Kenichi grinned, giving him a thumbs-up. “Take good care of me and your mom when we’re old, my eldest son.”]

In the present moment, Subaru finally made a noise.

It was soft, and quiet, and very hoarse — but Beatrice, who had not taken her eyes off of him once, noticed all the same. “Subaru…?”

Subaru’s pupils had shrunk even past their usual states, his whole body shaking as he stared up at the metia in horror. Tears were staring to bud in the corners of his eyes. More horrible croaking noises were leaving his throat. One by one, the people of the audience turned to see what was going on.

“…Natsuki-san, please—” Otto said, the first to reach out. “It’s alright. It’ll— It’ll be alright—”

“Please don’t cry,” Emilia agreed, unusually gentle. “Please, not…” Not while we can’t hold you.

[The Subaru onscreen had already started to cry. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I— I’m sorry. I can’t— I-I'm sorry! I won't be able to make anything up to you before…” He finally, properly burst into tears. “I will never see you again!”]

As that cold reality was voiced aloud, the Subaru in the present finally sobbed — and with that first step, the entire dam seemed to shatter until there was nothing left for him to do but fall to the floor with a thump, curl into a ball, and wail in despair.

“Subaru—!” Julius cried out, trying desperately to hold back his own tears at the horrible sight.

“Subaru-dono, please!” Wilhelm tried to say, reaching forward to try and ease his cries. His hands met glass. “We’re right here, please just—!”

[“I-I’m sorry!” Subaru apologized, over and over again as his sobs grew and grew and grew. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”]

“I-I’m sorry,” Subaru echoed weakly, tears streaming down his face to form a puddle under his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I wanna— I wanna go home—!”

Beatrice choked back a cry of despair of her own. “Subaru—!”

[“No matter how much time passes, you’re still such a handful, son.” Kenichi sighed, but he was smiling as he rubbed a bawling Subaru’s back. “Sheesh…”]

The current Subaru had no such comfort to be given to him. Nobody could reach him, no matter how badly they wanted to, no matter how hard they tried. All there was left for him to do was wail and wail and wail as the horrible despair surrounding his untimely departure collapsed on him anew.

[hellenhighwater]

That's wizard dinner babey

[partywithponies]

For me a core feature of Galex's relationship is that Alex wants to be seen as strong and unflappable and respected and always in control, right. And Gene wants to be seen as a kind of unquestioned alpha male in charge who never shows any weakness and who deserves the blind respect and obedience of the rest of the team even when he yells at them and verbally abuses them. And they do see each other that way, to some extent. But they also both know that to some extent all of that is bullshit, because they've willingly allowed each other to look deeper.

Because, see, to me another key fact about them is that Alex actually really likes being looked after, and Gene actually really likes having someone to look after, and this is each of their deepest and most personal vulnerabilities that they only really show to each other.

And then almost never directly and outwardly acknowledge, because that would mean acknowledging their own secret hidden layers.

They're perfect for each other. But they're horrid for each other because they're both equally shit at communicating or admitting weakness.

This is a long rambling post I just have a lot of thoughts. I just love them.

[ekanatsume]

Id say "in my screaming crying throwing up era" but like when am i not really

[sanarsi]

One of your girls

post-outbreak!Joel Miller x virgin!f!Reader

Summary: Joel was known for treating women well in bed. That's why, on your eighteenth birthday, you decided to give him your virginity. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 56), Jackson!Joel, taking of virginity, soft!dom!Joel, unprotected PIV sex, interrupted sex, pussy eating, fingering, pet names Wordcount: 5k An: Quick smut because I would DIE to be one of his girls. Joel Miller save my soul. Amen. Anyway, happy ovulation days to me and everyone. Born a slut, die a slut. Music I worked with: One Of The Girls - The Weeknd, JENNIE, Lily-Rose Depp

Masterlist

You really didn't know how it all happened.

A moment ago you were standing in your room, grimacing at your reflection in the mirror, and now you were standing in front of the door to Mr. Miller's house.

How is that even possible?

How on earth did you even leave the house wearing this?

Like some kind of slut.

Why did you even think he might like this?

And the more important question is, for what sake you did put on lace underwear?

You blinked a few times, realizing that you had already knocked on his door. Shit.

Your breathing quickened as you finally realized what was happening. You began to mentally curse yourself for your stupid decisions.

Well... when you thought about it yesterday, it didn't seem so stupid. But hearing his heavy footsteps outside the door made you doubt everything that had ever crossed your mind.

What were you doing actually?

You didn't need it to live.

You didn't have to be like your friends.

And yet… you wanted to see what it was like. What it's like to make love to someone.

And as fate would have it, Joel was the perfect candidate to take your virginity.

At least that's what your friends said.

If it weren't for them, you wouldn't be here now. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't know what Joel is like. If it weren't for them, you wouldn't want to experience the same thing.

You wanted to be one of his girls.

The door slowly opened and Mr. Miller stood in the doorway, wiping his hands on a cloth. Suddenly all the thoughts in your head disappeared just like the oxygen in your lungs.

"What's up, little one?" he spoke first. You blinked a few times, realizing that you probably looked like an idiot watching him with those shiny eyes.

"Mr. Miller, hello," you greeted politely. He raised an eyebrow with a small smile and slung the cloth over his shoulder.

“Yeah, hi,” he snorted softly. You felt yourself getting hot. Wonderful start.

"I was just thinking... are you busy right now?" you asked, polite as always. As always, well-mannered.

Joel frowned in thought before glancing over his shoulder into the house. “Uh…” he sighed, hesitating for a moment before looking back at you. “Do you have some urgent matter?”

"Well..." you stuttered and cleared your throat. "No," you said truthfully. "But I wanted to ask for your help... with a certain... delicate matter."

Joel watched you carefully as if he was looking for some hidden intentions in you. You looked like always. Well, maybe apart from a slight shyness. But that was probably the issue of the matter you came to him with. And who would Joel be if he refused a poor girl who needed his help.

"Yeah, okay," he nodded and let you through the door. You automatically moved towards the living room, where you had already been a few times because of Ellie.

Joel closed the door with a quiet sigh and after a moment his heavy footsteps bounced off the walls. You sat on the sofa, staring at the empty coffee cup on the table. Your heart echoed in your ears, drowning out any thoughts. You couldn't even decide with yourself what you should do next. You got to his house, what now? How were you supposed to tell him why you came to him? How were you supposed to ask?

Mr. Miller, I've heard from my friends that you're eager to introduce them to the world of adulthood. I wanted to ask if you'd like to take my virginity too?

No fuckin’ kidding...

"Okay, so what's the deal?" he asked, sitting down in the chair next to you with a quiet groan. You moved restlessly, unnaturally straight as a rod. Joel saw that you were stressed so he didn't even comment on your prolonged silence. You tried to put together a sentence in your head. But your mind was blank. All you could focus on now was your pounding heart and the small smudge of grease on his temple.

Did he always look this good?

“Today is my eighteenth birthday,” you announced without thinking. As if that would shed any light on the matter you had come to him about. But Joel didn't seem too concerned about your strange behavior.

"Happy birthday," he replied indifferently.

“Thanks,” you nodded and fell silent again. You looked down at your intertwined fingers that you were playing with. Joel continued to watch you carefully, waiting for you to speak. Ellie had taught him an exceptional amount of patience in situations like this. And already used to the strange behavior of girls your age.

"What about your birthday?" he said as the silence stretched on. You looked up at him like a lost deer. You opened your mouth to say something but ended up tightening it into a line. You laughed, looking down anxiously.

Fuck. How were you supposed to tell him that?

"You know what?" You looked at him with a smile. "Actually, never mind." You stood up from the couch. "I'm sorry for-"

"Sit back down," he interrupted you sharply.

You sat up immediately.

You blinked slowly a few times as you stared at each other. Joel was completely relaxed, but you, you looked like you were sitting on nails.

"Why did you come to me?" he asked, settling more comfortably in the armchair. Your stomach clenched to the point where you felt bile rise in your throat. Your own stupidity had brought you to this point, even though you wanted to blame someone else. Even the weather. Maybe you had been out in the sun too long? Yes, that was definitely it. “Speak,” he said more sharply.

“I…” you trailed off, feeling your breath start to shake as did your hands. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… The girls said-“

“What girls?” he interrupted you again. You froze, mouth agape, looking at him as if you didn’t understand anything. So he raised his eyebrows and repeated it slower and calmer. “What girls?”

“Leyla and-“ you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat. “Nadia-“ you wanted to continue but he interrupted you again.

“And what did they tell you?”

He was calm.

Too calm.

That immediately lit up a light bulb in your head. He knew. You looked at him with wide eyes, feeling the cold sweat running down your back.

“Mr. Miller, I’m sorry. I have no idea what I was thinking coming here.” Panicked, you stood up and walked around the couch to leave. Or at least you wanted to, before his hand gripped your wrist, stopping you in your chair. You looked at him, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was still staring at the spot you had been sitting. You had a problem…

“Sit down,” he ordered. “We’ll talk.”

But you didn't move. You stood there, staring down at him. His gray hair, the wrinkles on his face, the sharp gaze.

He was old.

What were you even thinking, coming to fuckin’ grandpa with such a matter? Stupid.

"I don't know if I want to," you said, under the influence of momentary courage. A smile appeared on Joel's lips. And after a moment, his snort echoed around the room. You shivered.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded, and his gaze slowly shifted to you. You locked eyes and you felt your stomach tighten uncomfortably. "After all, you came here for something other than talking."

You gasped for air looking at him like he was a ghost. Your face burned with living fire as he looked at you with such damn confidence.

Oh man, what have you gotten yourself into?

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel's enough" he interrupted you slightly, tightening his fingers on your wrist. You stuttered with your lips parted, unable to tear your gaze away from him.

You were definitely more innocent than the previous girls who ended up in his bed. At least, they were sure of what they wanted from him.

And he treated them much better than you.

Irony of fate.

Joel looked away, sighing heavily, afraid of his thoughts.

What kind of person was he?

Sometimes he was disgusted to look at himself in the mirror. But the compensation for his bad deeds was the sight of bliss on the girls' faces.

So was he really a bad man?

Maybe.

“Come ‘ere,” he said softly and pulled you towards him. You didn’t resist as he pulled you onto his lap. His hand went around your hip and the other rested on the armrest. He seemed completely relaxed while you were going through another breakdown. Joel watched your delicate face in silence. As if he was assessing what type of girl you were.

You felt naked just by his gaze. So damn intense gaze...

"Why did you come to me?" he asked again, this time gently. You blinked a few times, wondering what to answer. You shifted restlessly on his thigh, making him tighten his fingers slightly on your hip.

"They said you were gentle," you said quietly. So shy. "That you'd be perfect for me for the first time," you added, looking down at your joined hands. Joel watched carefully as your lips tightened into a thin line. A quiet snort escaped his chest, catching your attention.

"They told you that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. You nodded uncertainly. "Oh, baby, they lied to you." He smiled gently, seeing a sign of fear flash through your eyes. But it was too late for him to let you walk out his door. "I wasn't gentle with them," he began to explain, which only scared you even more.

What the hell did you do?

Did you really believe girls who were famous for their slutty nature?

Not a very good plan.

“But I can be gentle with you, if you want,” he added encouragingly. Your breathing had long since accelerated to its limits. You looked at him with lost eyes, and honestly? That turned him on more than those confident girls. Seeing no reaction from you, he placed his hand on your thigh, starting to gently stroke it. “You want me to?”

You shivered at his gentle touch. You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I would like that.”

Joel tightened his fingers on your thigh and took a deep breath. Sometimes he wondered what he had done to deserve women coming to him for sex. Not that it bothered him. He just wanted to know if he was called a whore or a good lover. But at moments like this, he hardly cared about anything at all.

"Have you done anything yet?" he asked, beginning to stroke your hip and waist. He had to know a few things before he went any further. He had to know how to take care of you.

You didn't answer for a long moment.

"Kissing? Touching yourself?" he clarified the question. You shifted uncomfortably and denied it, looking away in embarrassment. "That's okay," he reassured you with a tender smile. “Don’t need to be ashamed, baby girl.” You looked up at him, hearing the pet name.

Something in your chest tightened at the sound of him speaking to you in such a tender and gentle way. He immediately noticed the sparkle in your eyes.

"You like it?" he asked, raising his eyebrows with a smile. For a moment you felt ashamed because honestly? You liked it. After a moment, however, the shame turned into amusement.

You came to ask him for sex.

What could be more embarrassing than this.

You pressed your lips into a line and nodded. Joel laughed tenderly and he already knew what you needed from him. You were the type who needed tenderness. You wanted him to make love to you.

Not sex.

Love.

“Okay baby girl, I got you,” he assured you and with a soft groan he grabbed your thigh and pulled you to straddle him. You cooperated with him without protest. His thighs were hard. Muscled. As was his chest that you rested your hands on. He was masculine. And his age didn't match how good he looked. You didn't even know what was causing your wet panties anymore.

His look.

His voice.

His touch.

Or maybe the fact that he was so close.

"First, a quick educational talk," he announced, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you close enough so that your crotches touched. Your breath shuddered. "Are you aware of the possible consequences of unprotected sex?"

"I've heard that-"

"No, interrupted sex is not a form of protection," he interrupted you, knowing full well what rumors could be going around among young, inexperienced people who'd managed to avoid pregnancy once or twice.

"Oh..." slipped out of your mind.

"True, it reduces the risk but it doesn't give any certainty. It’s just bullshit," he explained carefully. You shifted uncomfortably, causing your crotch to rub against his.

Bad move.

You pressed your lips into a line, not wanting to make a sound and nodded at his words.

"I won't cum inside you” he emphasized that you would have confidence in what was to come.

"Okay," you said quietly. Joel must have seen that you were aware of what he was saying to you. Only then did he continue.

"When did you have your period?" he asked directly. You cleared your throat uncertainly.

"I should have it in a few days." He was silent for a moment, struggling with his thoughts. There couldn't have been a better opportunity.

"Fine. We won't have to live in uncertainty for long," he said it more to himself than to you, but you nodded anyway.

Risking becoming a father at his age was no small feat. But he couldn't help himself. Not when a girl like you was sitting on his lap.

"This is going to hurt," he noted, grimacing. "Only at first, and I'll try to make it as painless as possible."

You knew this, so you nodded more eagerly. Joel fell silent again for a moment, looking at you. You hadn't been destroyed by life yet.

And it was to him that you had decided to come, to start your downfall.

He closed his eyes, sighing heavily. "Okay, I guess that's it," he said, looking at you with that tired look of his. You felt a surge of excitement when he said that.

"Oh one more thing. Just in case" he said as if it suddenly dawned on him. "Your sexual partner is always supposed to take care of you first. If he doesn't, don't give yourself to him" he said confidently and your pulse echoed against your clit.

Oh, you didn't expect that reaction. Something about his confidence had such an effect on you.

"So..." you began uncertainly.

"So now I’m gonna eat you out" he replied confidently, hugged you tightly with one arm and then stood up from the chair. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist as he tossed you slightly to adjust you in his arms.

You clung to his body, cuddling up to him and rested your forehead against his temple to watch what he was doing. And he calmly walked towards his bedroom. Not rushing. Letting you feel the anticipation of what he was about to do to you in your bones.

You looked around his room out of the corner of your eye. Bed, nightstand, wardrobe. Nothing more. You could have expected that. The only thing that wasn't his style was the curtain on the window, gently waving in the summer breeze.

Joel closed the door and walked over to the bed, slowly placing you on it. You supported yourself with your hands, watching as he slowly knelt down by the bed and began to undo the laces of your sneakers.

"I want you to tell me if something hurts you, you feel uncomfortable or you don't like something," he said, taking off each shoe and sock one by one. He looked up at you when he didn't get an answer. "It's important."

You nodded immediately. Only then, Joel start unbuttoning your pants. You watched as his fingers gently loosened the button and the zipper. Without a word, you lifted your hips so he could slide them off you. He looked at your panties with a moment's delay and stopped his movements. He fell silent, staring at your underwear so intensely that you clenched your thighs.

"I didn't know I'd ever see lace on someone again," he commented, slightly unnerved. “That’s nice” he added before he pulled your pants down the rest of the way. A small smile appeared on your lips.

He liked it.

His hands slid up your thighs. His rough touch on your soft skin was something completely new. You liked it. And you weren't the only one. Your pussy responded to his touch, soaking your panties. Oh.

His fingers grabbed your shirt which he began to pull off of you. He slowly revealed every inch of your body until the shirt landed next to your pants. This time his gaze stopped at your breasts. His gaze set your skin on fire.

"Damn baby, you look amazing" he said in delight taking in your whole body with his lustful gaze. “What an old man like me do to deserve this,” he muttered to himself as he stood up with a quiet gasp. He sighed heavily, looking down at you. Big eyes looked at him with sparks of excitement. Lips slightly parted by the heat. And a beautiful body dressed in white lace. “Beautiful view.”

He leaned towards you, cupping your chin between his fingers. You closed your eyes as his lips softly crashed against yours. And he froze allowing you to experience a new feeling. His cold lips and rough beard. You relaxed a bit, which he immediately sensed. And then he started kissing you.

He slowly led you and taught you to respond to his kisses. Until you started to respond more confidently. Then he added his tongue.

He crept into your mouth, colliding with your timid movements. But it didn't last long. Everything about him encouraged you to match him as soon as possible. So after a while you were pushing yourself towards him, hungry for more. But he just pulled away with a smirk.

“Lie down,” he ordered, which you immediately did. His gaze swept over your body again and a silent curse escaped his lips. He gently lifted your leg and began to place a trail of kisses along it. His kisses left wet trails behind when he finally knelt down. You stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily. You clenched your fists in the sheets as his beard began to tease your inner thigh. He couldn't even stop himself from gently grazing your skin with his teeth. You felt it between your thighs like a lightning bolt. Joel smiled as he saw how sensitive your body was to his slightest touch.

You felt his hot breath perfectly above your pussy. You held your breath, tensing in anticipation. And then he placed a delicate wet kiss on your panties. You almost sighed, but then he kissed you with his tongue. Perfectly on your clit.

You moaned, feeling all the blood flowing to the place he had been a moment ago. You didn't have time to shake off the surge of pleasure because his fingers were already pulling your panties down. Until they landed somewhere on the floor. You gasped for air as he got a perfect view of your wet pussy. Embarrassing how much you leaked when he hadn't even started with you.

"Well, hello there" he said with a smile and placed his hands on your hips, hiding between your thighs. "You're so pretty." His warm breath fanned your wet entrance. You clenched, holding back a moan. "Can I say hi to her?" he asked, glancing up. Your breasts were heaving quickly, thirsting for oxygen. You swallowed hard and barely managed a quiet 'yes'.

You didn't have to tell him twice for his lips to place a soft kiss on your clit. You shivered. And he didn't wait long before he ran his tongue over your wet slit. You moaned, throwing your head back as he slowly began to lick up all the wetness that had already leaked out of you.

You began to pant heavily, gripping the sheets as if you were about to make holes. Joel held your hips rigidly and ate you like his favorite dessert.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” he murmured appreciatively before his tongue began to work on your clit. That’s when you saw stars. A moan caught in your throat at the feeling of Joel literally making out with your pussy. Oh he was hungry for a sweet treat like you.

Wet sounds filled the room as did your moans. Uncontrollably, you tightened your thighs around his head, making it clear to him that you were close.

His hands slowly moved from your hips to your stomach and up. His fingers slid under your bra and after a moment his warm hands squeezed your breasts. You arched your back starting to chase your orgasm as his hands caressed your tits. You started to move your hips to meet his tongue wanting to set the pace yourself. But Joel sucked on your clit like he was thirsty so your movements were in vain.

You moaned loudly when he started to move his tongue in circles.

"Yes, yes..." you cried feeling like you were a fraction of a second away from fulfillment. Then he pulled away and ran his tongue along the entire length of your slit. You came with a loud moan and a shiver of pleasure spread through your whole body. Joel teased your swollen clit with his tongue for a moment until the last waves of pleasure passed you and you fell helplessly onto the mattress panting heavily.

His lips placed one last kiss on your thigh before he pulled away and stood up. You opened your eyes, feeling a sudden chill from his absence. You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze immediately as he slowly took off his clothes. And despite his age, he had no problem getting his dick hard for you.

Your gaze was fixed on his cock, wondering if it would actually go inside you. You understood why it might hurt.

You swallowed hard at the sight of his hand sliding along his length. His cock hardened even more at the thought of you tightening around him. He slowly walked closer, climbing onto the bed and towering over you. His lips found yours. The sweet kiss quickly turned into something deeper. His hands slowly began to slide down your body. His tongue distracted you enough that it wasn't until he inserted two fingers into you that you moaned into his mouth.

Joel hummed in satisfaction as he slowly began to stretch your hole. You clenched your hands on his shoulders, trying to focus on returning his kisses, but then he made a magical movement with his fingers that almost made you squeal. He laughed tenderly, drinking everything from your lips.

"Oh I think I found the sweet spot," he smiled against your lips before repeating the same movement a few more times, leaving you breathless. Seeing you like this stroked his ego. You were melting under his touch in a sexy as hell way, and if he could, he would spend all day fucking you in every way possible. But he was fucking fifty-six years old and he really didn't want to be a father. What a shame…

His fingers disappeared the moment you relaxed enough so his entrance wouldn't hurt. You looked at him with a misty gaze as he positioned his tip at your entrance.

"I'll go in baby. Nice and slow" he assured you to which you only mumbled under your breath closing your eyes and tilting your head back. It looked like a nod so he looked down slowly sinking his cock into your pussy. Your breath caught in your throat at the slow feeling of being filled. Joel gasped at how tight you were around him. "Relax baby. I need to go all the way in" he said in a hoarse voice. You shivered taking a deep breath and winced at the feeling of him slowly pushing even deeper into you. "That's right, doin’ really good for me. Just a few more inches" he praised you and groaned when his hips finally hit yours. You whimpered feeling tears in your eyes because, damn, it hurt more than a little.

Joel panted heavily for a moment before he finally noticed your condition. He stroked your cheek gently and used his thumb to wipe away the single tear that had managed to escape. His lips slowly began to place kisses along your jaw and neck to help you relax a bit.

“Shhh, you’re okay baby girl. The worst is over” he whispered in your ear and shivers spread through your body. He immediately felt it on his cock that you clenched around. He groaned throatily closing his eyes for a moment because he felt like he was in a cage.

A wet and tight cage.

“I need to move,” he whispered, his voice like he had run a marathon. You began to breathe faster, looking at him with teary eyes. “I know it hurts, but I need to stretch you.”

His lips were on yours in a second, kissing you hard before he slowly withdrew his hips. You moaned into his mouth but he didn't let you break the kiss. He pressed so hard that you had to, or at least tried to focus on it. And then he entered again. You dug your nails into his shoulders, wanting to show him that it hurt.

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered against your lips, making another move. With each subsequent kiss and each subsequent thrust of his hips, it was easier for you. Until finally the pained expression on your face disappeared and your groans were replaced by quiet moans. And then Joel felt your slit accept him with less resistance.

"Just like that," he groaned throatily as he entered you smoothly. His hand slid down your waist to your thigh. He tightened his fingers on your skin and guided you to wrap your legs around his waist. Then he pushed deeper into you, his breath shaking. You gasped as your legs trembled. But not because of how deep he was. Because of how skillfully he moved inside you, brushing against everything he should. He slowly pumped his hips, each time teasing your sensitive spot which slowly built up an orgasm inside you.

But you were missing something. A stimulus that would break the previous discomfort.

"Joel-" you gasped.

"Yeah?" he murmured, running his hand over your thigh, his gaze fixed on how his cock disappeared inside you over and over again. You shivered, clenching around him.

"I need more," you said weakly. Joel immediately looked up at you. After a moment, a smirk appeared on his face.

"Oh, what a greedy girl," he smacked his lips, shaking his head.

But after a moment, you felt an additional stimulus. You moaned, arching your back as his finger began to draw slow circles on your clit. The air caught in your throat as you tried to handle the sudden surge of pleasure.

“Satisfied?” he asked, feeling you slowly start to tighten around his cock more and more.

“Fuck yes,” you gasped, throwing your head back as your hips began to burn.

“Such dirty words from such pretty mouth,” he teased with a smirk of satisfaction that he had brought you to a state where your shyness had disappeared.

He bent down, starting to place wet kisses on your neck. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling all your muscles tense up in anticipation of fulfillment. His cock slowly moving inside you, his finger on your clit, and suddenly his teeth in your skin. A deadly combination that made your eyes roll inside out as you came.

“Yes, baby, show me how good it feels,” he murmured against your ear, panting heavily through each squeeze of your pussy. You shuddered, moaning as he prolonged your orgasm as long as he could.

You finally started to shudder from the overstimulation so he took his hands away and tightened them on your hips. You looked at him with tired eyes as he slowly straightened up.

“My turn, princess,” he said, digging his fingers into your skin to hold you in place.

And then he started thrusting. Hard. And fast. You gasped and grabbed his wrists as an uncontrollable cry tore from your throat. Joel watched as you took him nicely. All of him.

He was focused, clenching his jaw tightly. Your moans interrupted by his growl filled the room. You clenched against him from overstimulation and your nails dug into his wrists. But he was too busy thrusting into your tight cunt. Finally, a long moan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back.

"Oh yes, baby," he groaned in pleasure, continuing to thrust into you. You looked at him, feeling everything inside you tighten at the sight. And then his eyes met yours.

And you knew you were fucking lost.

He pulled out of you in a quick movement and grabbed his cock, rubbing it between your wet slit. You moaned squeaky as he massaged your clit with his cock. He made only a few movements before a loud growl escaped his throat and after a moment you felt hot cum on your stomach. You tried to calm your breathing as you watched Joel concentrate on squeezing every drop out of him. He sighed loudly and glanced at you before he slammed his cock into your pussy. You whimpered and he chuckled under his breath.

“Happy birthday.”

[inkskinned]

i love my therapist but i hate being in therapy. 10 minutes before my appointment, i'm in a meeting with my boss - we discuss my artistic choices; my boss recommends i artistically choose less. 10 minutes after therapy, i wash my hair and think about everything that was said, and then i have to switch it off, like a lamp, and go back to work again.

i was on a walk the other day and someone had the perfect combination of his cologne and whatever-else. it was almost exactly his scent. i fucking hate that. after all these years, i remember that? i tell my therapist - i feel like a fucking wolf. try telling a middle-aged blonde lady. oh i scented him on the air. i'm 30, and i'm having a panic attack over something that would be a plotline in the omegaverse.

what they don't tell you about mental illness is that if you are lucky enough to survive it into adulthood; it becomes a weird slice of your life. because you do, eventually, have to build a life. i realized in a panic somewhere around 22 - oh. i don't know what i'm fucking doing, because i always assumed i'd just go ahead and die. i didn't die, and i'm grateful for that, and i'm very happy about that choice. but it does mean that i am an adult in an apartment, living with my conditions side-by-side like. oh, that's my roommate, adhd. ignore the glass, bytheway, that's ocd.

so you pick your stupid life up by the scruff of the neck and you're, like glad for it (so much laughter and light and friends you would have never thought possible, when you were in the worst of it). but it feels so strange to be dancing around these odd little microcosms, these patchwork moments of your symptoms. if you have a panic attack at night, you still need to wake up and walk the dog in the morning. if your depression is making everything boring, well, you don't have any sick days left, and a job's not really supposed to be that exciting anyway. your ocd tears out each individual leg hair, and then, an hour later, you sigh, patch up the bloody bits, and go get dinner with friends. and the life is kitten-quiet, mewling and pathetic, but it's also like - it's yours, so you're fond of it.

and it's like - you're real. so you still enjoy pushing the shopping cart really fast and then riding on the back of it down an empty aisle. and you're not, like, so sick anymore that when you accidentally drop a mug you burst into tears (except for the days you do that. which are bad). and no, you're not allowed around certain items anymore. oops! but you've learned to be good about brushing your teeth most days of the week. and yeah sometimes in the middle of the day you have a little freak-out about how fucking unfair it all is, how fucking hard, how other people can just do this without having to fucking hurt the whole time. and then you sigh and force yourself to sit down and fucking journal about it so you can tell the nice middle-aged blonde woman yeah i had a hard day but i practiced grounding. you still sometimes want to burst out of your own skin, but you force yourself to eat kind-of healthy and to take your vitamins. you let yourself chop off all your hair in the sink in a dramatic poetry of control and relief - and you also have developed good hobbies that help you move your body more frequently. you feel helplessly behind, lost in the shuffle - but you also practice gratitude, taking stock of what you have garnered. because you're trying. even if you're never gonna be normal, you have something... close enough.

and the little kitten of your life, this mangy, starlit tigercub, this thing you expected to rot so young: in your arms, it turns itself over, belly-up. exposing this new soft part, all the organs and guts. like it's saying i trust you now. you won't give me up.

[kenzieluvsnanami]

kenzieluvssukuna :: personaltrainer!sukuna x thick!reader (18+) ☆

desc ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ ever since you were young, you've struggled with your weight - it becoming one of your biggest insecurities. now as an adult, you actually have the financial freedom to invest into yourself leading you to start going your local gym. you end up running into someone who was willing to help you... the only problem was that he didn't seem as invested in your weight loss as you were. cw ✧✩₊˚. modern/no curses au, body image insecurity, fatshaming🙄, sukuna knows how to use a phone, slow burn-ish (they don't smash in this part), mastúrbation (f), séxting // 3.5k wc // part 2

“Are you sure you should eat that?” “You would be so much prettier if you just dropped a few pounds.” “You’ll never date anyone looking like that!”

Ever since you were young, all the people in your life ever seemed to be concerned with was your weight - whether that be murmured judgements amongst themselves or just directly to your face. At first it used to upset you, the ostracisation making you feel like there was permanently a spotlight on you no matter where you went; strangers silently judging you, making assumptions or just flat out insulting you.

If you wanted to go out to a restaurant, it felt like you were be shamed out of eating anything that could be deemed as “unhealthy”. Shopping for clothes was a difficulty - irregular clothing sizes meaning that the majority of your teenage shopping trips ended with you tearing up in the changing room as you fought with many a pair of stupid jeans that fit your calves perfectly well, but as you tugged them up to your plush thighs they got painfully stuck; your mom having to intervene and haul the wretched things back down.

As you grew out of adolescence and into adulthood, you quickly learnt how to mask the insecurity and self-doubt you had accumulated, leaning fully into the “funny, fat friend” role. You kept a fake smile plastered on your face as friends and family lamented on about the woe’s of constantly being approached by men and how lucky you were that you didn’t have to worry about that.

You weren’t nearly as perturbed with your appearance as others seemed to be, puberty being instrumental in recomposing your juvenile body to its current physique - majority of your fat moving to fill out your hips and bust. You definitely still had a tummy and back rolls but the thickness of your thighs and generous glutes were something that you felt your friends were at least a little envious of, often catching them gawking at the way your hips swayed as you walked or how your breasts jiggled as you moved your hands around.

Regardless of your growing acceptance of your larger body size, there were still times when you felt like that young girl who was relentlessly bullied and mocked due to something as superficial as how she looked. You wanted to move on from ever feeling like that again, which is what lead you to start going to the gym.

If you could mould yourself, to how other’s wanted you to look and be seen as not even beautiful but just normal - maybe you wouldn’t have this heaviness in your heart, maybe you would finally feel fully accepted by the people in your life and maybe you’d not constantly feel on edge when in public or open spaces.

Your first few trips to the gym were pretty mundane. You made sure to properly stretch before attempting weighted exercise - deep squats and hip flexors being your favourite warm-up, the slight tension and warm rush of blood flow putting you in the perfect mind frame for a challenging but rewarding workout.

The routine and order that the gym was able to give you didn’t just help you to achieve your goal of weight-loss but also caused a drastic improvement to your mental health; your brain being able to just.. switch off as you pounded your feet into the conveyer belt of the treadmill.

However, your gym session a couple weeks ago was is were things started to change.

You sauntered in, light pink hydroflask complementing your pastel two-piece - a sports bra with interweaving straps around your back for increased support and cycling shorts that nicely hugged your ample hips and gave your rear a helpful lift.

Making your way to the padded area used for low impact exercise, you got to work. Starting out with a deep stretch in your hamstrings and then working back up to your upper hips. As you leant back up from a standing toe touch, you felt an intimidating presence looming over you. You stumbled back slightly, eyes flitting upwards to take in this unwelcome interruption.

The first thing you noted was that he was muscular - corded muscles rippling as he squatted down to meet your gaze. He had thick, black markings all over his body from what you could tell, two lines on both his upper thighs and forearms being the only visible ones currently, peaking out from his snug fitting compression shirt and loose training shorts.

He even had it on his face, symmetrical lines running from the top of his jaw down to his chin meeting in a small triangle alongside a pointed line across his nose. His hair was almost the same colour as your bottle - a soft pink that seemed almost contradictory to his hard exterior.

“Your form.” He grumbled. You blinked back, not really grasping what he was trying to say.

“For God’s sake, your form woman! Are you trying to get injured or something?” His dark eyes observed you with something that was… unfamiliar. You were used to people looking at you with disgust or even pity but he looked at you with a genuine curiosity.

“You keep rounding your back. That will cause you more harm than good in the long term” he continued on, not seeming to take your lack of response as a deterrent.

“Stand up.”

It was unclear to you why you were mindlessly following this random man’s instructions but nevertheless you humoured him - following his sharp commands as he directed you into a form that was better suited to your body type, taking into account your larger proportions which allowed for a much deeper and satisfying stretch. You went to crane your head up as you heard the man’s voice behind you.

“Aht- I never said you could move” he chided, reaching out a large, calloused palm to press you back down into the corrected pose. “I was enjoying the view.”

It took you a moment to understand the implication of what he meant, cheeks burning as you stood up properly. “I don’t think I got your name..?”

He smirked, passing you a card with his name and number on “…'name’s Sukuna, I work as a personal trainer at this gym sometimes.”

He paused, shamelessly looking you up and down - pretty much just eye-fucking you in the middle of the gym. “if you ever need someone to help you work out, ‘m here.” He sauntered off, not even bothering to wait for your response.

The rest of your workout was spent mulling over the intriguing man you had just met. Whilst his methods were… unconventional and he could be a little assertive, he clearly knew a lot more about the gym than you and could be quite useful?

When you got back to your place, the first thing you did was take a good look at the card he had given you, saving the number on the back and sending him a quick message.

…

you: heyyy, it’s the girl you helped at the gym today! tysm for ur advice, it was really useful. :) would you be free anytime this week to help me with some leg workouts?

sukuna: i remember you

sukuna: do you want to look like this?

sukuna: [image attachment]

…

Unsure of what he was really talking about, you immediately clicked the image expecting it to be a photo of a previous client who was in a similar position or honestly anything but a selfie of his glistening torso.

Black markings continuing down from his shoulders meeting into the middle of his pectorals, two symmetrical pointed lines running deep along his tensed abs, an arm slightly raised to show the circle on the top of his deltoid. He was in a dark room but the flash from the camera gave you a good view of his lap - legs spread wide, the grey sweatpants he was wearing allowing you to see everything.

…

sukuna: so?

…

You were…stunned to say the least. I mean you did get the vibe that he was checking you out but you weren’t used to men being so forward with you. You genuinely wanted him to help you work out though so you responded back earnestly stating that whilst you did appreciate his physique, you weren’t trying to completely change the way you looked - you had actually grown from your original aim of going to the gym just for weight loss and wanted to instead focus on improving your stamina and muscle gain, any pounds shed from that alone would be satisfactory for you.

…

sukuna: i understand

sukuna: lets meet tuesday

sukuna: i have the perfect workout for you

…

The wait for Tuesday to come felt absolutely agonising. The day before you had actually gone through your closet looking for your cutest gym set to wear, spending hours agonising over whether you should go for a unitard that clung tightly to your curves or one of your more… skimpier sets that allowed for a little recoil when you moved.

Whilst you knew this definitely wasn’t a date and had already come to the conclusion that Sukuna was certainly the type of trainer to flirt with all his clients - this gym session definitely felt charged in some kinda way.

You walked into the gym that Tuesday quite apprehensive; bringing your light blue hydroflask this time to better match with the set you decided on, a cropped slim fit shirt and looser pair of shorts (to allow for greater range of motion but it does help they also show the underside of your ass).

As soon as you stepped into the gym, you spotted the pink-haired man standing in the padded area you normally start in, his eyes dragging up your frame; a slow grin spreading across his lips as he beckoned you over with two of his fingers.

The walk to him felt like an eternity, dark eyes tinged with a streak of red as he unreservedly studied you - eyes flitting down to the high cut of your shorts, ass jiggling with every step you took.

You felt blood rush to your face, Sukuna’s ogling making you feel so shy. You finally reached him, his hooded gaze rendering you speechless for a good minute or so as the two of you just looked at each other silently.

“Hello to you too” He sniggered, turning to the side to reveal the assortment of weights he had selected for today’s workout. “This is going to be the hardest workout of your life.”

“Sounds good!” you innocently beamed, always being up for a good challenge and it seemed like Sukuna was willing to give you one.

“Woman, I don’t think you understand,” He wiped a hand over his jaw, seeming to be finding your misguided enthusiasm hilarious, “…’nless, you are some kind of masochist - there is no chance you’ll enjoy this”

You looked up at him after he said this, smile faltering slightly at the sight of the very poorly hidden smirk on his face. He was really going to try push you to your limit but… he didn’t know how stubborn you could be.

The two of you went through the warm-up smoothly enough, Sukuna’s critical eye spotting the myriad of mistakes you were making; hands sliding against the soft, contours of your body to position you in the correct positions.

It was hard to remind yourself where you were when his broad palms reached around the expanse of your thighs, lingering in the inner crevices as he squeezed lightly to encourage you to push back against him to deepen your stretch. You really couldn’t tell whether Sukuna was affected in the same way you seemed to be, his previously heated gaze being replaced with a much calmer and cooler one - his focus seeming to be on making this workout the “hardest one of your life”.

You then moved onto weights, the main target of the day being glutes as requested by you. Sukuna had queried about what muscle groups you targeted least and from there promised to make you a future guide to help you work them out more; but explained that today he would start with something familiar, “I don’t want to scare you off.”

To help improve your weight lifting form, he would model how he wanted you to position yourself and then get you to copy him. This would have been extremely helpful if you were actually paying attention to what he was doing, your mind being more focused on the way his muscles flexed and relaxed as he moved into the poses; you could literally see the tendons wrapping and twisting as he dropped into a squat, thighs flattening out as adductors tensed up creating a deep crevice in the middle.

“Woman.” he growled, dragging you out of your daydream. “I know you didn’t just call me here to lust over my body.” He made eye contact with you through the mirror in front, “You could’ve just come to mine if that was the case”.

Sukuna really knew how to make you flustered, whether that be on purpose or that just being his personality. You couldn’t really decipher whether he actually meant what he said or if his matter-of-fact tone just made everything flirtatious. It didn’t help that he really didn’t mind getting up close and personal with his training, hands securely gripping your sides as you held two dumbbells above your head, gently easing into a weighted squat. He made you do this 20 times - your body trembly and achy by the 15th rep.

“Sukuna….I don’t think I can do anymore” you wheezed, beads of sweat running down from your hairline.

“Don’t be a baby” he muttered into your ear, causing you to suddenly become hyperaware of his proximity to you; his body essentially caging you in as he helped to pull you down. You shivered slightly, willing your body to focus on the really heavy fucking weights above your head and not the man hovering behind you. You flicked your eyes back up to the mirror to centre yourself only to find Sukuna’s eyes glued to your rear - the squat position you were currently in making it look even bigger than normal, your spread legs isolating each cheek with the sliver of undercheek peeking out tensing up into your thigh due to your poor balance.

It was kinda comical to see how transfixed he was - eyes completely blacked out with his grip becoming slightly tighter as you dipped lower and lower. As you came back up you tipped yourself forward purposefully to seem as if you were going to fall over. Snapping out of his daze, Sukuna fully pulled you back into his chest; lower back brushing up against his semi-hard length as your weights clattered against the floor. You turned your head upwards to try and catch his eye only to find him already staring back down at you, face stern, “S-Stop messing around, woman.” He barked out, swiftly moving to create some distance between the two of you.

The rest of the workout continued without much interference from yourself or Sukuna; the second half primarily consisting of cardio which meant that little guidance was actually needed. Whilst you were grateful for his assistance, you couldn’t help but feel like you wanted something more - missing the physical contact that was so prevalent at the beginning of your workout.

“All done!” you smiled as the machine slowed to a stop, your gruelling 30 minutes on the stair-master finally being over. You staggered over to the pink-haired man who was lazily lounging on the couch at reception, proud that you had struggled your way through his workout and lived to tell the tale.

“Why are you so…happy?” He looked mildly conflicted, impressed that you had managed to make it through his workout but disappointed that he hadn’t managed to break you.

“’Cause I completed your workout, silly” He found the cheesy grin on your face infuriatingly cute, the way your your eyes crinkled up and dimples poked out actually making his heart beat slightly faster.

“I’m not silly, brat.” He spat out, hand moving down to ruffle your hair, much to your annoyance.

“Since you found this workout so easy, let’s see how you find the one at my house.”

Oh.

The look on Sukuna’s face was akin to the likes of a predator that had just caught its prey; a wide, malfeasant grin plastered on his face as his eyes went to a darkened black.

He was talking about… oh.

You could literally feel yourself dripping as you glanced up at Sukuna, mouth dry as he strolled out of the gym silently - looking back with a gleam in his eyes as the doors to the gym slid shut.

The drive home was quiet, mind reeling at the sudden turn of events. Yes, Sukuna had been very flirty during your interactions but you never thought it was going to escalate to this point where he essentially invited you round… to fuck.

You got home, showered, changed, ate and tucked yourself in for bed in a daze, thoughts still scrambled as you tossed and turned desperately trying to turn off your racing thoughts.

DING

Your hand reached out to grasp your phone. You knew that it could only be one person texting you at this hour.

…

sukuna: mine friday @ 8?

sukuna: unless you don't want to see more of this

sukuna: [image attachment]

…

Oh, he definitely did not waste any time. Your finger raced to click open the attachment, the picture this time being a selfie from a lower angle showcasing a little more of the pink-haired man’s lower body; boxers pulled down to show you his harsh v-line and happy trail that confirmed that the curtains do match the drapes. You could see the the small veins wrapping around his flexed forearm as he twisted his arm to the side to show the sheer amount of muscle he had managed to build in just that one area, bicep almost tripling in size.

As much as you wanted to pretend his excessive showmanship didn’t impress you, your body was telling a different story; thighs slowly rubbing together as you felt heat rush down between your legs.

…

sukuna: i know what you are doing

sukuna: show me.

…

Sheets pushed to the side, you pulled down your shorts with an inhumane level of strength. Something about how self-assured and confident he was just made you horny. The way he just told you what to do and you actually did it was something you didn’t realise you’d liked so much until now, your body trembling with need.

You started filming, a hand spreading apart your folds as the one holding the phone drew closer to showcase how drenched you already were. Your swollen clit was red and angry, begging for attention as your fingertips slowly skimmed along the edges of your cunt. As much as you wanted to wanted to give Sukuna a real show, you also really wanted to come. Eventually, you brought two fingers to your sensitive clit and smeared all of the slick you had gathered before, just the mere pressure making you groan lowly in pleasure. You leisurely started to build up speed, fingers readjusting to allow you to prod into your tight hole, fingers pressing up against your walls in a way that only allowed you to squeeze down onto them.

Your room was filled with the sounds of your quiet whimpers and moans as the pressure in the lower half of your body started to build up more and more to the point where you were about to climax. Your breathing became shallower and was replaced by heavy pants as you tried to evade the inevitable for a little longer, not wanting to stroke Sukuna’s ego any further by coming almost immediately at the sight of him.

Right when you couldn’t hold back any longer you decided to cut the video - he could see you come when the two of you meet on Friday. Until then, he’d have to be satisfied with your video.

You sent the video and threw your phone on the bed, left hand joining your right in plunging into your cunt; your body arching away from the bed as you reached your peak and came hard, gushing out all over your sheets.

Your head felt fuzzy as you lay there for a moment, the only sound in the room being your phone rapidly buzzing.

…

sukuna: fuck

sukuna: you look so good

sukuna: cant believe you cut it there

sukuna: what a little tease

sukuna: you'll see what i do to women who tease me.

…

Friday could not come sooner.

part 2

a/n ✧✩₊˚. ive been binge watching industry and wow being a banker actually seems interesting wtf.. i had to cancel my gym membership cause im moving for uni and i miss it so much i cant wait to start going again 😜

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn danyal al ghul au incorrect quotes - dpxdc au

Vlad and Danny, fighting for the nth time this month: Danyal, exhausted: hey if i call you dad will you like. Stop. I have a test tomorrow. Vlad, has a parental bone in EVERY part of his body: *immediately stopping* Vlad: What do you mEAN YOU HAVE A TEST. WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAD WITH THAT-- Danny: BECAUSE YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL DR. FENTON AGAIN, VLADIMIR.

-------------

Danny, flopping into bed facefirst: i need sleep or rehab. again Tucker (maybe?? I haven't decided yet who he's friends with): i thought you were clean Danny, into a pillow: not if this keeps up.

-------------

Tucker: favorite superhero go Sam: Wonder Woman Danny: the Flash Tucker: Okay Sam's is obvious but, Danny I would've thought you'd say like, Martian Manhunter or Superman or Starfire. But Flash?? Danny: i had a foster in Central City for a few years and met him, he's a really nice guy. He made me promise to invite him to my high school graduation and is part of the reason I made it to rehab and ended up getting rehomed and picked up by the Fentons. Danny: I have a hoodie with his logo on it in my closet, i saved up to buy it and its the first thing I got with the allowance the Fentons got me

------------

Danny wearing three layers and a scarf in the middle of summer: *shivering* Sam: how are you cold you're literally made of lava Danny, hissing: lava cools at contact with the air and I'm trying to keep my body temperature at a reasonable level, SAM. Tucker, touching Danny: you feel warm to me Danny: to YOU

------------

Danny:...i could eat lava Tucker: Sam: Danny: Tucker: do it. no balls Danny, getting up: bET--

------------

Danny: Dash: The Both Of Them: *under the bleachers to smoke/vape* Danny, smokes: I wont tell if you won't tell Dash, vapes: ....deal

-----------

Danny, breaking into Vlad's lab: YOU FUCKER QUIT-- what the hell is that Vlad, working on his newest invention: Language. ....And it's something I'm working on, go away Danny: what? no, fuck you. You're trying to kill Jack again and this looks interesting. I was gonna come beat you but now I'm curious what the hell this is (Vlad spends a good hour explaining what he's doing before they start arguing and Danny starts a fight)

------

Danny laying on the ground staring the ceiling, feeling like shit: Jazz, popping by his room: ,,,what'cha doing, Danny? Danny: Danny, internally: 'Jazz says i should be more open' Danny: considering the benefits of relapsing Jazz, immediately stepping into the room: oh okay so lets talk.

-----------

Danny, meeting Robin as Phantom for the first time unaware of his identity and his own birthright: Robin: Phantom: Phantom: fuck you Robin, a 12 year old: fUCK YOU

-----------

Vlad: Jack Fenton iced me out of my early adulthood and got you, his foster son, killed by his own invention. He is a danger to society and I personally want him dead. Danny: okay, cool motive still murder. Danny, louder: I DONT NEED YOU TO TAKE REVENGE ON MY BEHALF

-----------

Vlad, grabbing Danny's shoulders: aren't you tired of being nice Danny: Vlad: don't you want to go apeshit Danny, in the american foster system since infancy, was in rehab at 11 years old, has been fucked over metaphorically, emotionally, physically, ten times over: Danny: i feel like we need to have a talk

----------

DP/Regular DPDC Vlad: *gripping by the shoulders* DPDC Vlad: how Stillborn Vlad: what DP/DC Vlad: how are you getting him to like you. Stillborn Vlad:,,, well first off i don't torture him so jot that down Stillborn Vlad: second of all, like is a strong word. Stillborn Vlad: Daniel only likes me on tuesdays and when i show him how to make fireballs

[barleyo]

Mama-in-Training.

Enji Todoroki X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: life has been whooping my ass, sorry for my inactivity!! i'm trying to post more often, so i might start queuing up some fics to keep posts kinda consistent :3 anyways, for today, i offer you a humble enji fic

Tags: age gap (early 20s — 50s), breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, use of "mommy" and "daddy", size kink/difference

Wordcount: 2.4k

After his divorce, it took Enji a few years to get back into dating. By the time he found you, all of his kids were well into adulthood and moved out. That was fine with you, it would have probably been awkward to play step-mom to his kids who were the same age as you. 

However, that didn't mean that you didn't want children of your own. You never really brought it up with your now husband, seeing as he already had a bunch of them. You assumed he didn't want any more, that he was tired. That's the thing about age gaps— you're always in a different stage in life from your partner. It's hard to keep up. 

You sat with him in the dining room, quietly eating breakfast together. He was shuffling through a newspaper, his stoic face in tact. 

Well, no time like the present. You decided to bring it up.

You took a sip from your tea cup before placing it down gently on the table. You folded your hands on your lap and leaned forward a bit, trying to get his attention. 

"Enji."

"Hm?" Enji hummed absentmindedly in response, not taking his eyes off the newspaper for a few more seconds. He reached over and grabbed his own cup to take a sip, his eyes skimming across something in the paper before finally putting it down and looking at you. 

"What is it?" he asked, voice gruff and tired. 

"I want a child." You kept your eyes trained on his face, watching as his expression changed. 

His face slowly shifted from confusion to slight distaste. He wasn't expecting that, not exactly. 

He sat up a little straighter and looked at you intently. He wanted to make sure he heard you correctly. "A child? Really?"

"Yes, and I want one soon," you said, picking your teacup up again. You pressed it to your lips, speaking quickly again before drinking. "I'd like more than one, you know."

That last part was news to him. He was already surprised to hear that you wanted one, but two? More? 

He let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other. 

"Why?" He asked bluntly. 

Enji didn't want to say no right away, but his children were already adults. He didn't realize you wanted kids of your own. He always assumed you wanted a simple, quiet life with no little brats to deal with.

"You're getting older, you know," you said, voice teetering on teasing. "Don't you think we should strike while the iron is hot? Before you're too old?"

"Who are you calling old, woman?" He rolled his paper and shook it at you, pointing it at you with a small scowl. "I'm in better shape than most men decades younger than me, don't act like I'm on the verge of death."

"I don't know," you said with a shrug, leaning back in your chair with a smug, little grin.

You were trying to rile him up, and it was working. Enji was not a man who held up well to your incessant teasing. It was rather easy to get a rise out of him— a fact that you often exploited. 

"You aren't exactly in your prime anymore, are you?"

Damn you, he thought. He stood up, hands splayed on the table, eyes narrowed. 

"Who's not in their prime? I'm doing just fine. I'm not even that old, you know that," Enji said in an overly defensive way. It was adorable, watching him get so worked up over a little prodding. 

"Then chasing around some kids should be a breeze for you," you retorted sharply, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way. "C'mon, don't you miss having kids in the house? It'll be fun!"

He let out another, more exasperated sigh. Your persistence was a trait he had become accustomed to. Whenever you wanted something from him, you didn't stop until you got it. It was cute, but god, he hated how weak he was for you.

Enji was quiet for a few moments, staring at you as he considered it. He knew that if he kept arguing, this conversation would go on forever. "Fine," he finally relented. "We can start trying."

You clapped a few times in celebration, childishly whooping and cheering over your little victory. 

"I knew you'd agree!" You paused and looked over him, a mischievous smile forming. "So, theoretically, we could start right now?"

Enji raised an eyebrow at you as that little grin appeared. He knew that look. "Now?" he repeated, an almost imperceptible smirk of his own began to form. "Right this second?"

You nodded and he scoffed, patting his thigh, thick with muscle and strength. 

"Come here, you eager thing."

You did so gleefully, footsteps speedy as you went to sit on his lap, legs hanging over his thighs as you face him head on. You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

He watched as you practically rushed over to him, settling comfortably in his lap. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. He leaned forward, lips ghosting against yours before he spoke.

"You really do want a kid, huh?" he asked, smirk fading ever so slightly as reality sunk in.

Enji was battling with himself mentally. He wanted to make you happy. His personal motto had become "anything for you, dear," but did he really want to start over with another plight of snot-nosed kids? He hated to face his own age, but he was getting up there. Could he—?

He thoughts were interrupted by you answering his question, a soft, needy look on your face. 

"I do. I really do, Enji. Don't you think I'll make a good mommy?" You braced your hands against his chest, eyes wide with excitement. "I think I'd look good pregnant too, with a cute lil' bump, eh?"

Fuck. Fuck, he really liked that image. Any doubt that was lingering was replaced with you. Full and pregnant. Tits swollen and heavy, face glowing. 

A shudder rolled down his body and a low rumble escaped his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, nearly pulling you against him completely. He began placing slow, purposeful kisses all over your neck and jawline.

"Yeah?"

He couldn't form any words outside of that, his head foggy with only his desire to fill you up present. The grip he had on you was a little harsher than usual, fingers digging into the fat of your ass through your pants. 

You pressed your lips against his roughly, hands carding through his hair. 

"I want you to fuck..."

You spoke only when you pulled away for gasps of air, sentences coming out breathless and choppy. 

"...all of your cum into me. Want it all, gotta make sure it takes."

He shivered again, your dirty talk getting to him more than he'd like to admit. He let out a low growl as your hands moved through his hair, his grip on you only getting tighter. 

He bit down on your lip, pulling you back into another rough kiss. His hands continued to move over your thighs, slowly going further and further up until he was palming your cunt through the layers of fabric covering you. 

"Such a dirty mouth," he muttered against your lips. "You really want it, huh? I'll give it to you. I'll fill you up, baby. Whatever you want."

His hands began to slide over your body, caressing your skin gently. His touch continued to linger over you, slowly making its way down lower to where you wanted it most. His fingers began to rub and tease at your core through your underwear, his hand messily shoved down your pants. His tongue licked roughly at the sensitive flesh of your neck. He made a point to leave marks, wanting others to be able to see that you belonged to him. 

Soon enough, your full belly would be a mark of his upon you. Hickies would suffice for now, though.

"You're all mine," he said gruffly, his tone possessive as ever. "I'm gonna give you everything you want, baby. Give you everything you need."

Normally, you enjoyed the chase, the teasing. Making out and heavy petting was all a part of the fun, on most days. But not now. Not when you knew exactly what you wanted— and what did you want now? 

Non-stop loads. 

You shimmied on his lap, kicking your pants off impatiently and staring up at him. 

"I want you, and I want you now," you said, trying to sound authoritative only to come off as needy and whiny. "Stop playing around, Enji

He chuckled at your attempt to sound like you were in charge, his lips curling up into that smug, confident smirk. 

"Bossy today, aren't we?" His other hand coming up to rest on your waist. His grip was still as harsh as before. "So eager to be knocked up, you've forgotten how to ask nicely."

You groan exasperatedly, resting your head against his chest. "Daddy, please. Don't tease."

"Oh, fuck." He inhaled sharply, fingers rubbing small circles on your hipbones. "You know I love when you talk like that."

That one word was all it took. 

You were always able to push the right buttons, to get him to do what you wanted. He pushed your head back, hand cupping your cheek, wanting to see your face.

"That's better," he said, his voice low and rough, almost a whisper. "Begging like that, baby." 

Before you could respond, Enji had slung you over his shoulder, dragging you off to the bedroom. 

He slowly repositioned himself until he was settled between your legs, his broad chest pressed to yours. He looked down at you, taking in just how needy you were. He knew you wanted this just as much as he did, if not more, and he was going to make sure he gave you what you needed. 

His mouth was back on your neck, more marks being left on your skin. He spoke between sucks and bites, the words muffled.  "You're still so eager, baby. All for me."

What round was it now? Three? Four? You couldn't tell. Your legs were cramping from being pushed to your chest for so long. Your greedy little hole was full of cum, dripping onto the silky sheets beneath you. Your mind— a mushy mess. 

You felt Enji push his cock back into you, rubbing the head over the leaking mixture of slick and seed that was drooling out of your slit. 

You winced a bit at the stretch. No amount of prep could ease the burning stretch of his girth. Your walls were snuggly closed around him. 

It was always like this, he was huge, after all. A brief look at his sturdily built, tall figure would give anyone ideas. Obviously, a giant man like him had the cock to match. Every time felt like the first time with him, with the sharp pinch of him sliding in, but God, it was worth it. 

He always felt a sense of pride when he took you like this. He was the only one who could make you feel like this, and he knew it. The only one who was allowed to satisfy the need inside you. His ego only grew the further he sunk in, watching your body swallow all of him yet again. 

"Jus' one more, baby. Okay? Think you can take one more?"

His large body caged you under him, trapping you completely, strong hands keeping your legs firmly folded. 

When you didn't answer, he huffed and brought his calloused thumb over your clit. He rubbed rough circles over the nub. 

"You're such a sensitive thing," he mumbled, collecting some of the slick that dripped down the seam of your thighs, right next to your cunt. He smeared the wetness over your clit, smoothing his movements. "So little, too."

"S—shut up," you managed to spit, mouth hanging open as you felt him ram sharply against your cervix, kissing the tip of it with his cock head. 

"But it's true."

Meaner than a snake, Enji was. The way he pushed one of his hands down on your lower stomach made you see stars. Every stroke felt deeper than the last— harder. More targeted. He was focused on hitting your deep, spongy weak spot with each of his thrusts. 

"How are you going to handle carrying my child, huh? Tiny thing like you. My cock already spilts you in half, the hell are you gonna do with a child of mine?" He was looking down at you, stoic expression tinged with a hint of amusement. "You'll break right in half, baby. Y'aren't strong enough for it."

You huffed, a soft moan slipping through your mouth as he continued to fuck into your tight chasm like a crazed man, little regard for how rough he was being with you.

"I dunno," you mumbled, bottom lip bit tight enough to almost draw blood, "but I know I can handle it. Was made to be yours, daddy. I can take it. I gotta."

His grip on your thighs grew more intense, his hands digging into the soft, pillowy skin. He liked when you said that. He liked that you needed him, that you needed to mother his children.

Enji's teeth tugged at your neck rougher than before, his tongue licking the assaulted skin soothingly. It was a dance of sorts— sharp teeth marking you, marking you bruise and bleed, with a gentle tongue to clean you up right after. 

"You really do want it, huh? You need it so bad," he said between rough kisses. "Well then, let's hope it takes."

With that, he braced one hand beside your head, tightly gripping a pillow, and the other leaving bruises on your thigh. He came for the final time, adding to the sopping, sloppy mess that previous rounds left in your hole. 

"Ah, fuck. There you go, mama," he groaned, voice tight with satisfaction as he spoke the nickname. "Now, all there is to do is wait."

He kept his cock sheathed inside of you, plugging his cum up in your walls.

"...Unless you think another turn is needed. Fifth time's a charm, isn't it?"

[thebirthofvenusfly]

really in love with the way ISAT handles themes of diaspora and cultural disconnect and exclusivity and distance. you know. like odile being mixed, passing enough for ka buan that vaugardians pin her as foreign, but passing enough for vaugardian that ka buans constantly note on her features. knowing she's half vaugardian, knowing half of her blood originates from the other half of the planet from her birth home, but being unable to explore that side for herself until her mid-adulthood. i imagine she's been studying vaugardian as a language and maybe some distant cultural norms for a while, but as we've seen in the game, there's still a lot about the house of change and body craft trends, etc. that she's learning for the first time and just that painfully longing sense of, "this should have been mine. i should know this stuff. i should know it as easily as i know everything i've grown up with in ka bue." you know. and let's not forget siffrin; having been raised in a separate nation altogether as well, but forgotten all connection to it; no memory of his parents' faces, of his neighborhood, of his childhood bedroom. just remnants. just enough internalised dialogue about wishes and stars and the universe. little habits and understandings that they've either never shared with others, or pass off as "weird habits but normal for siffrin." you know. eating malanga fritters and feeling like they're back home in their family's kitchen. honestly ever since adrienne gave siffrin that afro-caribbean nose and mentioned them being not white, but white-passing has stuck with me too. like imagine it. being of a culture, its accent stained on your tongue, its norms ingrained in every passing thought in your mind, but still just never quite connecting. having its features in your face just enough to look foreign, but not, at the same time too. never quite being there, 100%. standing out enough to feel abnormal in vaugarde, but fitting in enough to forget how disconnected he really is from home until he begins looping and actually remembering stuff.

how much of your identity is the culture you should know vs the culture you do know. what about if you want that culture to be yours again, but it was robbed from you by unforeseen circumstances beyond your control and now you're trying to masquerade as though everything is fine when in reality, there's a gaping hole in your chest where your fulfilled sense of self should be.

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | i. the return

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), sarah exists but isn't a main part of the story]

summary: now that you've moved on from college, you're ready to start the newest chapter of your life--adulthood. but when you move back home and are swept back into the magnetic pull of your neighbor, Joel, you find that maybe moving on has nothing to do with leaving the past behind and everything to do with embracing it.

wc: <2k

the masterlist | joel’s pov | next chapter

Undergrad had been a thrilling, difficult, eye-opening experience—one that brought you new friends and new love, along with fall-outs and breakups—but now that you’d earned your degree, you were determined to move on to the next stage of your life. 

Step one, move back home until you landed a job. Step two, move the fuck out.  

Step one was currently underway, your dad hauling the contents of your jam-packed tiny sedan into the house you’d lived in for the better half of your life, while you unpacked the last four years into your old bedroom. It seemed tinier than it had four years ago, but perhaps it wasn’t the room that had changed. Perhaps it was simply that you’d outgrown the space. You tried to fit your new life into your old—shoving your clothes from high school into bags to drag down to the thrift store so that you’d have room for the clothes that fit your new, curvier body—and attempted not to mourn the loss of your old self. 

But wouldn’t this always be the case? With each step you took forward, the more distance you’d put between you and your youngest self. Some days, you wished to plant your feet and refuse to move at all, the comfort of the past too soothing and the uncertainty of the future too unsettling. But most days—like today—you forced your eyes to fix on the image of all that could be, of all that you could be, even when it ached to do so. 

“That’s the last of it,” your dad announced with an exhausted sigh, sweat beading down his forehead as he set the last box down in the middle of the room. 

“Thanks,” you managed, your mind busy with planning. It seemed to never stop, the constant sorting out of your situation. You had to plan the new arrangement of your old furniture, which friends and relatives you’d visit first, which jobs you’d apply for, which apartment complex looked the safest, how you’d manage to make rent, and so on, until you had to plan your funeral. What a joy life was. 

“I know you’re probably busy, but I thought it’d be nice if we went out for dinner tonight,” he suggested, likely able to see the nonstop churning of the wheels inside your mind. He was always oddly aware like that. “Beats you having to eat my cooking.”

You let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you allowed yourself to rest from all the organizing and plotting. You set your hands on your hips and turned to give him a small smile and shrug. “Sure.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, something soft and barely there. “Just, uh, pick a place. I can invite Joel and Sarah, if you want. I know they’ve missed you.”

You laughed at the prospect of your gruff neighbor ever missing you. His ten-year-old, Sarah, likely did, the two of you forming almost a sisterly bond over the last two years that you’d known her. You were her babysitter during your summer and winter breaks from college, mostly because you didn’t mind the work and because you lived right next to the Millers. 

But her father? No, he never seemed to care much for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Except Sarah, his brother, Tommy, and your dad. 

“Sure,” you said, the word slowly becoming your new mantra. “I’ll, uh, just finish unpacking and then I’ll get ready.”

“Alright,” he said, taking one last look around the room before moving to the doorway. He stopped, ever the old sentimental bastard, and turned your way. “Good to have you home, kiddo.” 

You gave him another pursed smile and nodded, fighting the urge to tell him that if things worked out in your favor, you wouldn’t be home for long. “Yeah, dad.”

After a much needed shower and a bit of makeup, you nearly felt like yourself again. You wore a pair of denim shorts and a nicer tank top to combat the late summer heat, nothing too scandalous for a family dinner. Your dad drove the two of you to your favorite mexican spot in relative silence, the dull hum of the radio lost to your ears as you watched Austin pass by through the passenger window. 

Joel and Sarah were there when you pulled into the parking lot, the two of them standing in front of their familiar old pick-up. Sarah was wearing a summer dress, her tight curls now in rows of boho-braids. Joel, in a worn-in t-shirt and a pair of jeans, hardly looked much older than he had when you first met him two years ago. At thirty-two, he was handsome, but at thirty-four…well, he was enough to make a girl drool. 

You never liked to admit it to yourself, but you’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Back then, at twenty-two, you assumed it was simply the allure of an older man during a time in which all you wanted was to be a “real adult”. And as the last couple of years went on and the prospect of growing up began to dim, you expected that your little crush would dim along with it. But looking at him now, the only thing time did was make him all the more handsome and desirable. From the way he treated his daughter to the fact that not once during your stint as babysitter did he ever try anything creepy with you, you were forced to believe that he was a stand-up man. And what was more desirable than a good man who looked like that?

Sarah’s squeal pulled you out of your admiration of her father as she ran over to you, hugging your waist. You squeezed her right back, making up for the last five months you spent away at school. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you said, giving her a smile as she pulled away to look up at you. “I like your braids. Did your dad do them?”

She gave you a look that screamed get real. “Please, he can’t even manage a ponytail.”

You laughed, lifting your eyes to meet Joel’s as he stood a few feet away with your father. You were surprised to find him looking at you, though of course he would be, given that out of the four of you here, you were the only one who he didn’t see every single day. Still, the eye contact was enough to get your stomach fluttering with something both anxious and eager. 

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice hitting you just as hard as his gaze. You tried not to react, to behave like you always had before, but now that you were reaching your mid-twenties, had earned your degree, and had experienced your first dry spell in your adult life, it was difficult. Every womanly part of you screamed with the urge to flirt, to put everything you learned at college to work for him. 

“Thanks,” you said instead, trailing your gaze to the restaurant behind him and then to your father. “Should we go inside? It’s hot.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the lead. He and Joel walked in ahead of you and Sarah, her hand in yours, and you tried not to admire the broad expanse of her father’s back as he stood right in front of you in the restaurant lobby, close enough that you could smell the warm spice of his cologne. 

A wild, rogue part of you wanted to reach your hand out and smooth it across the soft cotton, tracing the line of his spine and the curve of his shoulder blades. In fact, the urge was almost unbearable, as if he were a siren and you were a sailor lost in the current. But somehow, you managed to keep your hands to yourself. 

After getting seated by the host, you ordered yourself a giant frozen margarita to take the edge of sitting directly across from Joel off and busied yourself with the chips and salsa. Your dad, meanwhile, seemed completely at ease as he chatted with Joel, filling him in about his plans for building a deck in the backyard of your house. The conversation didn’t interest you or Sarah, the two of you more focused on clearing the first basket of chips so that you could start on the next. 

“So,” Joel said, something in his tone luring your eyes to his. “You interested in babysittin’ over the summer?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, masking your inner beast who felt nothing but disappointed over the fact that even after all the growing up you’d done over the last two years, all he saw you as was a babysitter to his little girl. Some college kid. The daughter of his friend. 

“I’m gonna be busy applying for jobs, but sure,” you said, glancing at Sarah with a smile. “Not gonna pass up a chance to hang with the coolest kid in the neighborhood.”

To your surprise, Joel smiled at the interaction. “Good. She’s been on my ass about askin’ since we heard you were movin’ back home.”

You nodded, smiling as you drank your margarita from a straw. You kept your eyes averted from him for the most part, not trusting yourself to not melt right there in your seat under his gaze, but on a chance glance his way, you caught Joel’s eyes slipping to your mouth as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. He seemed to realize what he was doing the exact instant you had and quickly turned away to scan the busy restaurant. 

If your father and Sarah hadn’t been there, you might have tried to be bold about things. Perhaps you’d brush his leg with yours under the table, or maybe you’d simply tell him it was alright to stare if he wanted to—that you didn’t care what he did as long as he kept looking at you with those dark eyes. But as it were, you couldn’t do anything but mourn the loss of his gaze and listen as he began talking to your dad about his own summer project—renovating his master bathroom. 

Thrilling stuff, really.

By the end of dinner, you were more than tipsy and equal parts antsy to get home, or at least to get some space from Joel. You hugged Sarah goodbye with the promise of coming over the next afternoon, ignoring Joel’s attempt at a goodbye in favor of sliding into the passenger seat. Your dad gave him a pat on the shoulder and waved goodbye to Sarah before climbing in beside you with a soft exhale. 

“What’s up with you?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition. 

“Nothing, why?” 

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he said, whipping his head around as he pulled out of the parking spot. “And drunk. Even just now, Joel was trying to say bye, and you blew him off.”

Ironic, that wording. 

“I’m just tired,” you said, shrugging. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “But just…Joel’s had a rough go of it lately, breaking up with that woman he was seeing for a while and having to raise Sarah by himself, so just…take it easy on him.”

The fact that Joel had been dating at all was news to you. Last time you were around, he didn’t seem to have any interest in dating. Sarah said it was because she asked him not to, her parent’s divorce three years ago still too fresh, but perhaps she’d changed her mind in the last few months and he’d gone and found himself a girlfriend. 

Your stomach curdled at the thought. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you said, picking at the frayed hem of your shorts. “But I’ll make a better effort to be nice.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, giving you a smile. “And I know you’re tired of hearing it, sweetheart, but I really am glad to have you back. There’s no rush for you to land a job or move out, you know. Just…enjoy the summer. Go make some new friends. Have some fun.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’ll try my best, pops.” 

“I’m gonna be busy with work and seeing Vic, so I won’t be up your ass all summer,” he said, mentioning the girlfriend he went and got himself during the last year of you being off at college—one you still hadn’t met. “Just don’t want you getting lonely by yourself at the house.”

“After sharing an apartment with five people for the last three years, I think a bit of alone time would do me well,” you said, chuckling. “So don’t worry about me. I’ll occupy myself.”

“In that case, would you mind if I went down to San Antonio to see Vic this weekend?” he asked, giving you a hopeful look that he only pulled out when he assumed you’d protest to whatever it was he was asking. But this time, you really didn’t care. You meant what you said about wanting some alone time to decompress and settle in without constantly being asked how you were doing. 

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a soft, encouraging smile. “I’m just going to be unpacking all weekend anyways.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, dad,” you laughed at the roundness of his eyes, at how concerned he was about you. Eventually, he’d come to know the new you, the person who thrived on independence and didn’t need to have someone around all the time. “I’ll manage to survive on my own for two days, I promise.” 

“Alright, smartass,” he laughed. “Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text if you need me to come back, alright?”

“For the millionth time—okay, dad.”

[filthyguts]

sketchbook doodles as it’s 4 am so I thought maybe . I’d share my specific kira headcanons from my twit thread. Strap in its unda the cut and it’s a lot because I’m normal about him whatever

- HATES dogs due to an incident from when he was a kid, slight phobia

- I’m always 50/50 on this but I like the headcanon of kira potentially having a type of albinism, both his parents carried the gene

-he’s superstitious, on account of his mother being VERY superstitious, which probably didn’t help with any compulsions he was dealing with internally as a kid and into adulthood

-Liked to burn ants and bigger bugs with a magnifying glass as a kid

-surprisingly low pain tolerance

-Has never kissed another person (until he kissed shinobu on the cheek during BTD)

this extends to other things do with this information what you will *large sign in flashing lights that says VIRGINNNNNN*

-he does not know how to kiss. because he hasn't done it to an actual living breathing person, if he were too in earnest it's intense he's all teeth and tongue it would be literally terrible, but he does give sweet knuckle kisses

he can give a polite cheek kiss but if he had to do one of the lips he’d be cooked like it would be over for him he might bite your tongue off on accident(or..?) like ur better off sticking two fingers in his mouth and hoping for the best instead of getting your lip ripped off

-absolutely LOVES the smell of a fresh coat of nail polish, doesn't care that it makes him light headed

-super veiny hands and wrists one paper cut and it's over for him

-killer queen feels really cold to touch, but its arms and hands are hot

-average at playing the violin, does dabble from time to time in the quiet of his home but it's not very often

-yes we know he sucks fingers but he also likes to likely gnaw because he likes the texture on his teeth (not in a cannibal way though he thinks the idea of actually eating flesh is disgusting and irresponsable)

-just really loves neutrals and easter colors, designer suits all the way obvi

-when he first gained killer queen (I hc he was about 19) it always looked like this pic below with the exposed skull, only when he started to better mask his homicidal tendencies and urges did KQ gain its "mask"" and how we see it now

-despite his obvious feline affiliations he doesn't want a pet cat, the hair getting everywhere would drive him crazy (plus he's got killer queen

-kira didn't name killer queen himself, the only time it ever spoke to him was once. when he first manifested KQ after the arrow, Killed Queen told Kira it's name quietly while standing behind him, this scared the shit out of him, which sounds badass and spooky but was also probably subconsciously because Kira had a Queen CD he purchased a year prior that he liked WELL UR JUST SEVENTEEN AND ALL YOU WANNA DO IS DISAPPEAR

-occasionally drinks (that's canon) but meaning he likes to get winedrunk with his girlfriends on special occasions, or socially drinks when forced to go out for company outings, once came home decently hammered and almost phoned a travel agency to get a one way plane ticket to France to see the Mona Lisa ,

did not follow through with this when he woke up the next morning. The idea of seeing her at the Louvre is almost too much for him, feels like touching an exposed nerve.

-is 100% having sloppy makeout sessions with his severed hand girlfriend with candles, dim lighting, and mood records + thinks it's the peak of romance and gets giddy about it like someone with their first crush. Because he's insane

-can feel a phantom sense for Sheer Heart Attack, no pain due to its durability, but can feel the heat tracking in his hand and it readying to explode once it’s found its target. The tracking feels like a tingling sensation to him akin to a compass, like a pulling. and the explosion feels like a pleasant blossom of warmth

-loves the subtle flavor of different lotions (not freshly applied) that linger on the skin, salty fruity fragrant and slightly chemically is his favorite. 🤢

- tries to be incredibly Normal when going for routine dental checkups and cleanings for obvious reasons. When he was in his early 20s and didn’t quite have his urges and homicidal tendencies in check- one of his early victims was a dental hygienist

-his dad(yoshihiro) was into cheesy action movies and would often take kira when he was a kid to the theater, kira didn’t really care for it overall, the explosions were always cool though.

He doesn’t watch movies often but he doesn’t mind drama and romance.

-gets cold pretty easily

-scary good at walking quietly, like a cat stalking prey, when he started working at kameyu- he went to hand some documents to a coworker, startling them pretty bad bc they didn’t hear him come up- he IMMEDIATELY stopped doing that unconsciously after that incident, he makes sure his footsteps are “normal” are soft, not aggressive, but can hear heard enough.

- in the moment he likes the feeling of blood drying on his skin, but once the adrenaline wears off he’ll wrinkle his nose and be like >:// then hop in the bath to clean up(it’s usually not his bath)

-went to the same school Reimi Sugimoto attended in Morioh, never once did he hold a solid conversation with her, she only spoke to him briefly once about missed homework. But that’s not to say he didn’t know who she was. Eerie :(

- His SECOND favorite early spring, likes taking strolls along to coast with his girlfriends, enjoys the breeze.

But his FIRST favorite season is summer, when all the tourists come to Morioh. It’s easy for people traveling to simply disappear 😨

-aside from nail biting, had a compulsive skin picking habit as a child but this was quickly squashed by his mother who’d give him a swat on the wrist each time he was caught

-subconsciously wishes his girlfriends could grab him back- (this isn’t to say he wants to rest of the person though 🤢) a squeeze on the waist or shoulder would probably do him good but it’s not like he consciously yearns for this- it would shatter his otherwise perfect lived fantasy and setup of control 😒

-his favorite finger is tied between either the pointer or the ring finger. He likes being able to bend the fingers and do what he wants, relishes in the subtle crack of the joints 🤢

anddddd that’s all for now. hell isn’t hot enough for him

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Now, I just want to start by saying I love BabBee and Dadimus. I do, 10/10 would enjoy again, but I think Y'all are neglecting the comedic and story potential of Bumblebee and Optimus meeting as ✨Adults✨ and still becoming a family.

Imagine with me, if you will, Cybertron ravaged by war. Things have fallen to shit. Megatron has been dragging these divorce proceedings out for years. Bumblebee was born around the beginning, give or take a few years, I don't care about specifics. His parents were sadly killed early on in his life due to something war related and Bumblebee has grown up alone. He manages to survive to adulthood, and he joins the Autobots. Bumblebee has been drowning in the consequences of this war since day 1 and he wants to help fix it. If Megatron won't sign the divorce papers then Bumblebee will. Yada Yada Yada Sad Backstory This is so sad, Alexa play The Less I Know The Sexy Back.

Anyhoo, Bumblebee is very good at his job as a scout. Top of the line shit, best of the best, 5 stars would eat here again. He's so good he gets promoted to work directly under Optimus Prime himself. Look at our boy go, we're so proud of him, you get that bag sister. Overtime, Bumblebee manages to become friends with Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime but we're focusing on Optimus rn) and they get pretty close. They're work besties, Bumblebee will make a joke over comms and Optimus will smile and say "I N D E E D, B U M B L E B E E.". Fucking insufferable, the both of them, it's so cute. You know how you can become friends with people twice/half your age when you're working at a hard job? That's what happened here, they've been through the (actual) trenches together, they've bonded.

So at some point, Bumblebee gets seriously injured while under Optimus's command, like some life threatening shit. Whether or not it's voicebox related is universe dependent , so we're not going to specify what happens, but it's serious. Bumblebee survives, obviously, but Optimus feels SO bad about it. Oh the Guilt is strong. When he's visiting Bee, some of this leaks out and Bumblebee tells him that he should not blame himself, Bee is choosing to fight, if he dies while fighting for the good of Cybertron, so be it. Better him than some innocent spark in the future. Plus, Bee only got hurt because of a stupid mistake he made, not anything Optimus did.

Bumblebee says this to try and reassure his friend/superior, but now Optimus feels WORSE. Bumblebee is like half Optimus's age (Bee and Optimus are whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of 20 and 40 are, respectively) and had nothing to do with the start of the war, and he's just as ready to die as Optimus is? And he's blaming himself for his injury? That he only got because Optimus told him to do something? Optimus is NOT going to let that slide, no he's not! Over his dead body! He is not crying in the club rn, what are you talking about.

Optimus has decided Bumblebee can not die now. He has declared, as the 13th Prime, that Bumblebee dying has become illegal and he will do everything in his power to enforce this new Law of The Universe That Should Never Be Broken Ever. Now, whenever the two are on a mission, Optimus tries to protect Bumblebee as best he can. He doesn't want to coddle him, Bumblebee is an adult and Optimus respects that but he'll be damned if he lets Bumblebee get seriously hurt when he could have prevented it. He also starts checking up on him when they're not fighting, asking how his day is going, how a mission went, making sure he see's a medic if he's hurt, making sure he's eating his energon, all that good stuff. Bumblebee is his friend, he's going to make sure he's okay, this is perfectly normal friend behavior. The rest of team prime is doing a similar thing, they all want to make sure Bumblebee is doing okay. Optimus isn't being parental in the slightest, he is being very normal. (Author's note: Optimus and Team Prime are being very Not normal about their emotions. All of them have some level of abandonment issues/lost-a-loved-one-itis and can no longer be normal about people they care about.)

Bumblebee recognizes what Optimus (and the rest of Team Prime) is doing. He knows that Optimus cares for him; he cares for him right back. Bee's not stupid, he knows that he's been getting some special treatment in the form of vaguely parental affection. And you know what? He likes it, a lot. He didn't get any growing up and now he's getting it from a guy he really looks up to, why would he pass this up. Bumblebee tries to return this affection he's being given in any way he can. He makes sure Optimus isn't overworking himself by visiting him while he's working, he makes sure Optimus is eating by inviting him to eat with him, he drags Optimus into the med-bay with him so he see's a medic every once in a while, he tries to make Optimus smile with his dumb jokes and antics, the whole kit and caboodle. Bee sees Optimus as some kind of parental figure, and he's going to make sure his newly acquired pop-pop is okay, just like he's doing for Bee. The Pop-Pop thing was a joke (Kind of). Why is he looking for cybertronian legal papers? That is none of your business, Bee just wants to see them for fun. No he's not drunk, the container of high grade started empty.

Life continues, Optimus (and Team Prime) continues to take care of Bee in his unknowingly parental way and Bumblebee is vibing with his newly acquired dad. It takes a while for anyone to acknowledge the new dynamic, Bumblebee just doesn't explicitly bring it up and Optimus hasn't pulled his head out of his suppressed emotion ass long enough to realize it. And keep in mind that Bumblebee is still an Adult and they are still technically coworkers, they still have a job to do, a war to win. Eventually though, maybe after the Autobots have left Cybertron, Optimus finally processes his emotions and realizes he see's Bee as family.

Optimus: Bumblebee, I care for you deeply, and I've come to see you as family.

Bumblebee: Aw, thank you! I consider you family as well. *Hands OP a data pad* In fact, you adopted me months ago.

Optimus (who did not sign any adoption papers at any time): I did what?

Bumblebee: I forged your signature.

At some point in the future, some guy is being a dick to Optimus, i don't really know what could happen, but Bumblebee steps in to defend Optimus with "That's my dad, you bitch!" and fucking slams the guy and Optimus is just standing there buffering, bc he's still getting used to showing and taking obvious affection and he approches Bee later to ask if he really considers Optimus as his dad. And Bee just kind of stares at him then points at the bumper sticker on OP's chest and says "yes, you idiot, I gave you that sticker for a reason" bc the sticker says "Worlds Best Dad" and it matches the "Worlds Best Son" sticker Bee got for himself and I'm rambling, I'll shut up now.

I made more

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Let's play a little game | Ethan Landry x Reader

Summary: You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, fingering, p + v action, ambiguous consent, home invasion, cheating,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You looked at your reflection in the mirror as you brushed your hair, admiring how hot your body looked in those small shorts and cami. The rumors were true, you really looked your best in your early adulthood. You posed, making sure all your curves were in a flattering angle, and sent a picture to your boyfriend. It was a bummer Chad was away in Woodsboro for the weekend when you looked that good.

After exchanging some naughty texts with Chad, you called Tara if she wanted to come over and watch horror movies. The weather had been gloomy and cold all day, which was perfect for the occasion.

‘’If you had called me two hours ago, I would be running over in my pajamas and bringing along my fuzzy blanket, but I may have gotten a call from a certain brunet from my film class and agreed to go on a date…tonight.’’ Tara covered her mouth to stifle her excitement, but you could hear it in her voice.

A smile bloomed on your lips, excited for your friend. ‘’Oh my god! He did?’’

‘’Yes.’’ On the other side of the line, Tara paused, her head full of Tyler. ‘’I’m so nervous. It’s my first date ever.’’

‘’It’ll be okay, T,’’ you reassured her. ‘’And if he turns out to be a jerk, excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a text. I’ll call you and fake an emergency.’’

Tara promised, then hung up to finish getting ready for her date. She needed to leave before Sam got home and asked a plethora of questions. Maybe she’ll do a full search on Tyler to make sure he’s not a crazy Stab fanatic like her own ex-boyfriend.

You were about to shoot a text to Anika, but your phone rang again. This time, the caller ID was masked.

You answered with a frown.

‘’Hello?’’ a distorted male voice said.

Your frown deepened. ‘’Eh, shouldn’t I be the one saying ‘hello’?’’

‘’Who is this?’’

‘’Who are you trying to reach?’’

‘’I don’t know.’’ There was a short silence, then the man spoke again. ‘’Do you like scary movies?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ You took a body-spray from your vanity desk and spritzed a little on you, smiling when the sweet caramel scent filled the air.

‘’What’s your favorite scary movie?’’

You took a moment to think. ‘’Probably Jennifer’s Body. Does that count? It’s more of a horror comedy, but I’ve watched it a thousand times.’’

The stranger hummed. ‘’The one with the hot chick that eats her best friend’s boyfriend?’’

‘’Yes!’’

‘’Speaking of boyfriend, do you have a boyfriend?’’

‘’Why? You want to ask me out on a date?’’ you joked, fixing the pendant of your necklace that had flipped over.

‘’Maybe.’’

‘’If you want to ask someone out on a date, calling on a masked ID is not the best way. It gives off stalker vibes.’’

‘’I’m not a stalker.’’

‘’How can I know you’re not?’’

‘’If I were a stalker, I would tell you how hard my cock is just from looking at you in those pajamas.’’

You gulped uncomfortably, standing from your vanity chair and going to your window to peer through the curtains to see if anyone was outside. You were on the tenth floor. How would anyone get up there from the outside? It didn’t make sense.

But it was the only window in your bedroom…

‘’I…I’m gonna hang up. I need to take my dog out.’’

It was a lie. You didn’t have a dog, but the stranger on the other end didn’t know that.

‘’Don’t hang up on me!’’ he yelled at you.

You did anyway.

Seconds later, the phone rang again. Fuck.

‘’Why are you calling again?’’ you snapped at the caller, not bothering to check the ID. You knew it was him.

‘’To apologize, of course.’’

‘’Okay. You did. Now bye.’’ You pulled the phone away from your ear, but the man yelled at you.

‘’If you hang up again, I’ll come inside and gut you!’’

The threat was stronger and starting to scare you, but you couldn’t let him know.

‘’You’re bluffing,’’ you said, praying your voice wouldn’t falter. ‘’I’m on a high floor. You can’t get to me.’’

‘’From the outside, no. But who said I’m not already inside.’’

Fear settled in your guts as your phone buzzed with a text message. A picture. Someone in a Ghostface mask standing in your bedroom. He had a knife in his hand and you had a feeling it wasn’t a fake one.

When was this taken? And where was he now?

You searched your vanity for something to use as a weapon. There was a ton of makeup, a few perfume bottles, your hairbrush — all useless. Then your eyes fell on your manicure scissors. You used them a few nights ago to cut a thread from a shirt. They were small but pointy. It could injure your stalker.

Scissors tight in your hand, you stood from your chair and ventured to your living area. It was a very small apartment. The living room and kitchen were merged into the same room and all the lights were off. You turned the main light on, illuminating the whole room, but saw no one.

The curtains were closed. They were tall and thick enough for someone to hide behind.

Putting your fictive big-girl pants on, you walked to the window to check, but jumped and when you heard the distorted voice in your ear.

‘’Let’s play a little game. I say something and you do as I say….or else I’ll use that sharp knife on you. Got it?’’

You gulped and nodded. A part of you wanted to call the cops and signal a home invasion, but if your intruder was already inside, they would never get to you on time. Even at night, New York traffic was a nightmare.

‘’Take those little shorts off. I want to see those lacey panties you have on underneath.’’

You didn’t want to, but you reached for your small dolphin shorts anyway. You weren’t shy with your body, but getting undressed for a stranger to jerk off to you made you stomach churn. Your fingers touched your waistband, about to pull your shorts down, but stopped when you remembered you were not wearing anything under.

‘’I-I'm not wearing any.’’

‘’Don't lie to me. I can see those tiny shorts from here.’’

You looked around the room, trying to figure out where he was hiding. Your bedroom window was already out of the options. Your bed was a box and your closet and the bathroom door were shut. Where the hell was he hiding?

‘’Not the shorts,’’ you corrected. ‘’The panties.’’

‘’Naughty girl.’’

You should be disgusted, but you found yourself blushing — and slightly turned on — at the creepy stranger's words. Was it the Ghostface mask that was suddenly having this effect on you? You did feel a strange liking to the masked killers when you watched horror movies.

‘’Strip.’’

You fumbled to push your dolphin shorts down and out of the way, exposing yourself bare.

‘’Now go back to your room, get on the bed and sit against the pillows.’’

You did as told and leaned back into your pillows, but kept your knees closed. You could sense where this was going. Men loved to watch a girl touch herself. If you look at their internet history, you’ll find a ton of porn videos of women touching themselves.

He tutted you. ‘’Don't try to hide. Spread your legs. I want to see.’’

You knew you shouldn’t part your legs, but your arousal was getting stronger at every instruction. It’s like he had casted a spell on you and you were helpless to disobey him.

God, you should be disgusted with yourself. How could you be turned on by a masked intruder in a Ghostface mask asking you to strip and give him a free view of your intimate parts?

Shutting your subconscious, you parted your legs and exposed yourself, shivering when you felt the cool air of the room.

You heard a groan in your ear. ‘’That’s a beautiful pussy. Show me how wet you are for me.’’

Your free hand slid down your body and to your mound, then lower. You sighed as you reached your folds, spreading them and showing the way your lips glistened with wetness.

‘’Am I wet enough for you, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked into the room, sliding your finger up and down your folds a couple of times.

‘’Why don’t you stick a finger inside? Play with yourself for me.’’

A soft moan slipped from your lips as you did, your finger sliding easily. You thrusted in slowly, then out, and repeated. The pace was too slow for your personal liking, but you knew how to tease and turn on a partner. Watching a video of your fingers sinking in and out of yourself, coated with your arousal had made your boyfriend cum in his dorm bed many times.

But let’s not talk about Chad now.

You added a second finger and caught your bottom lip between your teeth when you curled them. You wish you had your pink vibrator for your clit, but your other hand was occupied holding your phone.

‘’Mmh, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.’’

‘’Are you touching yourself to the sight of me, Mr. Ghostface?’’ you asked, bringing your thumb to your clit and rubbing.

A distorted whimper came from the other side of the line. He was.

The sensations from your touches were sending fuzzy tingles from your neck to your dripping pussy, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

‘’Is that all you’re going to do? Are you going to just watch me fuck myself for your own pleasure like a selfish asshole…or are you going to come and fuck me?’’

The line went dead and all the lights went off, sending chills down your spine. You removed your fingers, unsure if this was part of the game or not.

‘’Hello?’’ you called into the darkness of your bedroom. ‘’Is someone there?’’

It was stupid to ask, having seen enough horror movies to know what happens to characters who ask that very question.

The light returned with a static noise and you jumped when seeing a tall Ghostface figure standing at the end of your bed, watching you intently. He pounced on your bed like a lion on his prey, grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you toward him.

A deafening scream left your throat, thinking he was going to kill you. Instead, he parted your thighs and lifted his robe, his pants already down to his thighs and his hard cock out. He wasted no time, thrusting himself between your wet folds and splitting your cunt open as you moaned out loud.

‘’You like being filled with my cock, uh? You unfaithful little whore!’’ the distorted voice said, grabbing your hips and pounding into you. ‘’Getting fucked by someone else while her boyfrined is away in California.’’

Unfortunately, you couldn't deny it. This cock felt fucking amazing.

You pushed all thoughts of Chad to the back of your head. You’ll figure this out later.

Right now, all you wanted to focus on was the man between your legs.

The sounds that rang from your throat were nothing short of obscene, mouth hanging open helplessly while he wrecked your pussy, his cock slick with the evidence of your arousal. You clawed at your sheets, your back arching from the bed from the intense pleasure filling your whole body.

Moans and grunts mixed with wheezings came from underneath the mask. Breathing must not be easy under the rubber mask. You reached out and took it off, gasping in shock when seeing who was underneath.

Ethan?!

You opened your mouth to speak, but he threw your legs over his shoulders and you cried out at the change of angle, not caring that your boyfriend’s roommate was fucking you.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly

[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

[arieswritez]

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 1

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; snapshots of you and mark growing up together. neither of you make it to the other end of the spectrum - budding adulthood - unscathed . . . but at least you have each other. what is it they say? Sandbox love never dies.

a/n: alt title [vignettes of a life: growing pains]. here's something to make you wish you were never born xx. this came out wayy longer than i expected & i figured the only way to properly digest it was by breaking it up into chapters. this one’s pretty intense so please heed the warnings. they'll be included in every chapter forward. enjoy! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

1 .

you still remember the fog of childhood innocence.

the fluffy pajamas that were both comfy and scratchy all at once. the stickers on your bedroom wall, on your wooden headboard. plastic restaurant playground mazes, fishing out toys from greasy boxes. the feeling of chalk staining your fingers and gravel digging into your soft knees: chubby legs soon to be scarred.

and amidst the fog, you remember mark. the sporty, hyperactive kid who’d run across the school yard with a sweater wrapped around his neck like a cape, arms spread wide pretending he could fly.

you remember him.

vibrant, loving, quick witted.

it was glaringly obvious all the kids in your grade wanted to be friends with mark grayson. he had a posse: his very own group of 'superheroes', as the teachers used to call it. and before you learned to multiply, something inside you brewed like a poison. you wanted to be like him but you weren't, and so, your stubborn, little kid mind decided you didn't like him.

you hated him, actually. you hated the way he knew all the right answers in class. you hated his laugh. you hated how he was the fastest during sports. you hated how he was fun and smart and good at everything you weren't.

but dislike or not, that didn't stop your fixation. you continued to watch him from afar. and in your journals - to the best of your ability - you drew yourself striding across the playground with a sweater tied around your neck.

you kept to yourself. painfully shy and practically non-verbal: despite your daydreams of someday being a 'normal' kid like mark. your teachers held conferences with your parents about your struggles. despite the fog that blanketed the memories of your childhood: the feeling of dread settling deep in your tummy during the meetings is something that makes you wince to this day.

while you traced patterns into the table in front of you, they'd talk about you as if you weren't in the same room. your teacher did most of the talking. . and, like most of the time, your brain blocked out the sound of her droning voice. instead, your parent's voice was who you heard. and despite struggling to keep up with the onslaught of information, too, all your parent offered was a hushed, “I don't know what's wrong with them.”

you couldn't pay attention. you didn't talk to the other kids. you clung onto your teacher while in class. . and onto your parent during drop-off.

you were different.

intelligent.

but different.

the former a more pressing concern than the latter.

after countless tedious meetings, you soon associated being different with being singled out. being different meant spending an hour sitting in a boring office, listening to teachers repeat the same information - over and over and over again.

a mention about a doctor your parent(s) always refused.

regardless of the calming - sympathetic? - smile of your teacher, it always felt like you were in trouble. even if you couldn't quite put your finger on what you were doing wrong.

on the way home, your parent(s) would eye you through the rearview mirror. you pulled at the loose strings from your sweater and pretended not to notice.

the front door of your childhood home would creak open. your parent(s) would sit at the dinner table, silent, immobile, and - quiet as always - you'd go to your room until you were certain they were asleep to sneak either dinner or a midnight snack.

you were in trouble.

you just didn't know how to stop getting into it.

your teachers grew evermore desperate.

when suggestions of socializing would cause you to clam up: they decided to bite the bullet and break you in by force, hoping your behavior was caused by childhood timidity. one you’d soon outgrow instead of. . something else.

they’d grouped you with myriad of students in hopes you'd socialize or at least participate in something that wasn't independent school work. soon, your tears of frustration when you couldn't communicate correctly no longer held it's child-like charm. your teary, red eyed protests were ignored.

or met with indignation.

until finally - as a last ditch effort you assume - they sat you next to mark grayson.

you protested. not because he made you nervous - which he did - but because you wanted to dislike him. because being in the proximity of everything you wanted to be would be too much to bare. because mark would only make you look even weirder in comparison. but none of it mattered because as soon as the two of you met everything just. . fell into place.

much to your pleasure, he did most of the talking and didn't seem weirded out by your social skills - or lack thereof.

you found your tummy didn't hurt when he spoke to you and he didn't ask you something along the lines of why are you this way? why aren't you like the rest of us?

for the first time while in school, you were comfortable. the overwhelming pressure of having to perform was nonexistent in mark's company.

he'd ask you about your favorite cartoons and movies, and books, and “oh! do you read any comics?!”, and ranted on how unfair it was that the two of you would soon be forced to read books without pictures in them.

his excitement barely let you get a word in. his energy was contagious, all consuming, and the attention he gave you felt like the praise you'd hardly ever receive. you forgot all about your dumb vendetta, wondering why you had one in the first place. and you morphed into a mini version of him.

the two of you were attached by the hip by the end of the week. much to the dismay of your teachers, who you were sure began to rethink their decision when the two of you wouldn't behave in class.

and, perhaps, it was a mistake. they wouldn't want you to potentially stunt mark’s growth - what if it was contagious?

unbeknownst to you, your teachers did think about separating the two of you. but the risk of you reverting to your old ways and the possibility of invoking debbie grayson’s wrath must've been far too high for their liking.

ultimately, a unanimous decision was made to grit their teeth and bare it.

in the meantime, his posse reluctantly welcomed you in. mark even gave you your very own superhero name! and you tried your hardest to keep up with him. for his sake. for your own.

god knows you tried.

but you were never good at performing.

you weren't as fast or as agile as him. you couldn't jump high enough and your sound effects were nowhere near as good. and in an attempt to overcompensate, you overestimated yourself, took a leap you knew you couldn't make, and scraped your knee.

and like a true hero, mark was the first to come to your aid. he'd sat you down on the plastic playset of the playground while you sniveled - part due to embarrassment instead of the stinging, throbbing pain of a scraped knee. he'd dabbed at your injury with crumbled tissue and placed a colorful seance dog band-aid over your cut.

when you finished rubbing your eye with your tiny fist, you didn't see beading blood and irritated flesh, instead, you were met with big, dark brown eyes that glimmered as they stared into yours.

he was close enough to count his eyelashes.

“see?” he patted a chubby hand against your knee gently. “all better!”

and, yeah - heat spread across your cheeks with newfound emotion - it was all better. all evidence of injury, the throbbing pain and blood, was long gone save for the aid he’d given you.

he’d patched you up. he'd made you better. in more ways than one. and what remained was a fuzzy feeling inside your chest.

he’d grinned at you with missing front teeth.

and you found yourself grinning back.

CHAPTER 2