#and some people try to skirt the line in a really weird way of oh no he literally attacked ben but then snapped out of it

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 34

part 1 | part 33 | ao3

Steve ducks his head against the flurries falling outside The Hideout as he makes his way for the entrance and tries really, really hard to not to feel totally out of place.

He agreed to meet Robin and her friends here separately because he was coming straight from a shift, but he’s kind of regretting that now. The only black thing he had in his wardrobe that was at all weather appropriate was a tight-fitting black knit pullover with a high collar and a silver zipper down the front, and he feels like some dorky, supportive golf dad coming to cheer on his rebellious son after a long day out on the green. The light wash jeans and silver wristwatch aren’t really helping matters.

Jesus. He should have let Robin dress him.

The guy at the ticket counter seems to agree because he gives Steve a weird look when he approaches and asks, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, no.” And if it comes out slightly more bitchy than he intended, well—

“Five dollars,” the guy scowls.

Strike that. Maybe it didn’t come out nearly bitchy enough. “The flyer says it’s two.”

The guy eyes him up with a tight, sarcastic smile and pops his chewing gum. “For you it’s five.”

Oh, my god. Operation Woo Your Man might be dead before it starts, because Steve’s about to smash the ticket booth window and pummel this fucking guy.

“I already got yours!” Robin calls brightly, jogging up behind him on the sidewalk and waving a lime green wristband. “He’s good,” she tells the guy, then tells Steve, “Eddie said to give you this.”

Ticket guy frowns, and Steve gloats as Robin fixes the bracelet to his wrist. Yeah, buddy, you heard that right; I'm with the band.

Robin drags him into the bar, and he stops her just inside the door, hugging her tight enough to lift her up on tiptoe, smacking a kiss to the side of her head. He jostles her around until something in her neck pops, and when he lets her go she groans, “Oh, my god, do that again.”

She spins around, crossing her arms over her chest. Steve grabs her by the elbows; shakes her like a piggy bank until her spine goes crack-crack-crack.

“Wow,” she sighs dreamily when he sets her down. “Marry me.”

“You can’t just marry me for my massage services.”

“I know; it’s tragic. Anyway, come on.” She takes his hand. “Everyone’s already at the table.”

“Who’s everyone?”

Robin doesn’t answer — probably can’t hear him over the loud rock music pouring through the speakers — but she weaves them through the venue, skirting the edge of the main floor.

Steve’s never actually been in here, but it’s pretty much what he expected: black walls, black floor, black leather jackets on the handful of regulars. The stage is off to their left, already set up with Eddie’s band’s gear by the looks of it, though he doesn’t see them anywhere. Must be backstage getting ready.

In front of the stage is a small, empty dance floor, flanked by rickety tables with mismatched chairs, and overhead there’s a balcony with a sound booth and more seats. To their right, the main bar: a long, ancient dark wood counter that’s been graffitied to absolute shit, covered in band stickers and beer labels and ‘so and so wuz here’s, and just up ahead, lining the far wall, Steve spots a row of wraparound booths.

Dark red leather, the stuffing spilling out through time-worn splits. Only one of them is occupied. Steve can’t make out much from this distance beyond the vague shape of the people sitting there, but considering it’s the only table with any chicks at it, he figures that’s their group.

Suddenly, Robin stops. Turns around to look at him; drops his hand and bites her lip. “Okay, so. Don’t get mad…”

Steve narrows his eyes. He knows that guilty grimace. Whatever it is, he’s definitely about to get mad about it, or at very least annoyed. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Robin.”

“Okay!” She steps to the side, and he marches toward the table to try and get a better view, Robin trailing after him, rambling, “For the record, I really didn’t do it, I swear! But, like— well, Beth is friends with Fred, and Fred is on the school paper, so I guess he just—”

The details shift into focus: tiny frame, rigid posture. Big, curly dark brown hair.

Oh, son of a bitch. No. No.

Nancy Wheeler’s here.

—

part 35

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #robin buckley #my writing #my fic #jk about no part today i got bored at work

[pupyuj]

thinking about extrenely dubcon g!p stalker wonyoung (who so happens to be your blockmate) breaking into your house late at night and yes😁

i held off on posting this for the longest time bcs tbh, i never rlly knew where i stood with noncon/dubcon even though i say in my pinned that i do write about it??? yea IK weird but it's been quite some time since i finished this and i can now actually write these kinds of things without flinching so! ANYWAY, i like it when you guys make wony a pathetic loser it's so fun... except that she's a bit creepy here but whatever.

[cw: g!p, stralker!wony, perv!wony, dubcon/noncon (it really was teetering the line...), breeding]

FUCK . okay so wony being so obsessively in love with you since the day you sat beside her in your first day of classes, but can't bring herself to talk to you bcs you just radiated pure sunshine energy that it blinds her too much so she settles with following you around, stalking you irl and online??? when she's sitting beside you, she's sneaking pics of what's hiding underneath your skirt... and you're always talking to people so you don't really notice your pretty seatmate lowering her phone and snapping a couple pics of your panties... she uses those pics to get off for sure.. she moans your name so loudly while stroking her cock, wishing that she had the courage to just fucking grab you, bend you over your desk, and pound your pretty pussy in front of the entire class... but poor wony has to be satisfied with just looking at you from a distance. a very, very close distance...

omg but like, wony eavesdropping in one of the conversations you have with your friends.. and she finds out that you're a virgin 🤭 but then she gets upset bcs your friends started teasing you about some girl who you were talking to in that way and how you weren't going to be a virgin for very long now... oh god, wony got sooo mad 😤😤 she saw you first!! therefore she deserves to be your first!! she firmly believed that nobody will ever be able to fuck you as good as she can... and she wanted to prove this so naturally, wony breaks inside your house dead in the night... feeling her heart beating so loud not out of anxiety or fear of being caught, but because your scent was everywhere... wony could just lay down in your living for the entire night and just bask in your sweet scent.. but she was here on a mission 👀

wony making her way inside your bedroom with exactly zero noise??? she stares at your face for a while, breathing heavily and her hands already unbuckling her belt and removing her pants dkshscnhsjgh 😵‍💫😵‍💫 wony climbing onto your bed with her cock just . out, stirring you awake... and ofc you were going to freak the fuck out bcs who the hell was in your house?! but wony was quick to cover your mouth with her hand and shush you, "it's me... it's me, (y/n)... it's wonyoung. i won't hurt you... just don't scream." but you were so fucking scared bcs you didn't know her!!

wony keeping her hand on your mouth bcs she knew you wouldn't keep quiet... leaning down to kiss your neck despite your resistance, her moaning at the way your skin tastes on her lips?!! wony finding your sweet spot and making you moan accidentally,, and she's so happy bcs she thinks you're liking it but fuck you were in tears bcs what the hell was she going to do to you??? ☹️ "i couldn't bear the thought of not being your first time... so i'm getting to you before that girl..." she says and finally you realized that that thing that was pressed up against your stomach was her dick... again, you started freaking out—kicking, squirming, scratching at wony's arms and trying to push her away but she was unexpectedly strong :(( "i'm gonna fuck you, (y/n)... i'm gonna fuck you and you're gonna love it.. you're gonna love me." and then she swiftly pulls your shorts n panties off and slams her cock in your cunt :(((

wony's hand in your mouth muffling your pained moans as she thrusted into you :(( "i-i know it hurts but.. ohh, fuck, so g-good... it'll feel better in a bit, i p-promise.. mhm...!" wony starting to quicken her pace and forcing her cock deeper inside you bcs she wanted to feel your cunt envelope her entire length :((( n then you're crying and sobbing bcs it hurt so bad but then... wony starts hitting a few good spots and you find yourself moaning out of pleasure instead of pain... all of this was so wrong.. wony didn't ask for your permission, wasn't being gentle at all, and she was restraining you... but fuck, her cock was such a perfect fit in your tight little pussy and you wanted more...

"see...? it feels nice, r-right? fuck... i'll g-go faster.. wanna ruin you so bad..." wony grips your hip with her one hand and started pounding into you so much harder and faster that you screamed into her palm... wony was starting to get hurt by the way you hit her arm and clawed at her skin so she pinned both of your hands above your head... she doesn't care that people could probably hear you screaming and crying,, your voice was akin to that of an angel, she could listen to you all day!

sobbing while wony was marking you up :(( begging for her to stop bcs it was hurting you,, and you told her she was hurting you but she refused to listen,,, only kissing your tears away and expecting you to take everything like a good girl... so you had to :(( it goes on for a while... her going in and out of you, her groans, your cries being the only thing that was heard throughout the house... you finally coming all over wony's cock and not knowing that you did bcs wony kept fucking into you, faster again bcs she was close too :(((

"g-gonna come inside you... d'you want my cum, (y/n)?? w-want me to... h-haahh... want me to get you pregnant? i want to... i really want to, fuck... you're mine... i need you to be mine..." wony buries her head on your neck, mumbling all this nonsense about giving you her kids... then you're begging her not to fucking do that but she doesn't want her cum to go to waste :(( wony coming inside you with a long, whiny moan which you thought was a bit cute...

feeling wony's warm cum inside you... only pulling out minutes later when she has dumped every fucking seed inside your cunt... putting your hands on her shoulders when she finally let go of your wrists,, god you felt so violated.. but why were you kissing her?? why were you thinking that she was the prettiest thing you have ever seen?? and why, after recovering from everything, were you begging for her to come inside you again?? 😣😣

#ive smut #ive x reader #ive imagines #girl group smut #girl group x reader #girl group imagines #ive x fem reader #jang wonyoung smut #jang wonyoung imagines #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung smut #wonyoung x reader #wonyoung imagines #g!p wonyoung #g!p idol

[flwersgarden]

princess orders. ୭‌⋆*｡

pairings : soft yandere!eddie munson x hyperfeminine!female reader.

summary : eddie doesn't follow orders but when he is with you, well, he changes his own rules on obeying.

includes : dark themes, kinda angsty, mainly fluff tho.

author's note : i thought of this while listening to my mom's record of madonna and i just loved the idea so much i had to write something about eddie listening to her. this is my first (kind of a) long fic so feedback will be appreciated! hope u girlies enjoy it<3

for Eddie, school is not something important.

to be a guitarist in a band, he doesn't need maths, psychics, chemistry or one of those boring sub themes of math.

he sometimes would skip classes and go to the school's parking lot to smoke, paint people's cars or to sell weed.

“munson!” the harsh scream of his name shut his spaced out self. “Paying attention?” Mrs. Wells annoyingly asked, her glasses in the top of her head.

“Of course, why would I miss knowing about... ” His eyes went small as he tried to read what was on the board. “ World War II. ” His monotone voice made some students laugh, other roll his eyes while his teacher only sighed.

“Just, pay attention. ” He nodded, sinking in his chair while glancing at the classroom clock. Five more minutes until he sees you.

the reason he started showing up to these boring classes, doing his homework, showing up in time to school rehearsals or those stupid championships it's because of you.

you, beautiful you.

a lovesick smile showed in his face while his thoughts drifted to your existence.

you're probably in class listening to your teacher explaining some weird science thing, your legs intertwined with each other, biting your pencil trying to figure out what the hell are you learning.

oh, what he would give to be with you right now.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

a heavy sigh left your lips as you left the classroom along some other students, walking to your closer, wishing to go home and sink in bed; or to go to your boyfriend's van and listen to him playing guitar while you draw in your notebook literal hearts, stars, flowers...

your thoughts were interrupted to the heavy sound of your locker being hit by some jock.

“ so, y/n. ” you smiled, nodding your head as you hugged the chemistry books to your chest.

“ that's me! ” you enthusiastically said, a giggle coming out as your turned to open your locker; the jock moving himself to stand next to you.

“ well, i was wondering, some of us are going to go to this party. ” you nodded again, not really paying attention to him as you left all your books in the small pinkish inside of your locker. “ wanna go with me? ”

before you could even process what he asked, you felt another hand grabbing your waist.

“ move, ken doll. ” the voice of your boyfriend made you smile, turning to him as you closed your locker, squealing as you hugged him.

“ eddie! i missed you so much! ” he smiled triumphantly, wrapping his arms in your waist, trying to cover your pink lace panties that your skirt failed to hide.

“ i missed you more, sweetheart. ” he said back, ignoring the jock scoff before leaving with some friends of his.

“ nope, i missed you much more. ” you brought your hands to his denim jacket, closing the distance between the both of you with a kiss, a hard passionate kiss.

you'd think that by the way the both of you made out in school hallways you didn't see each other for a long time and not just for thirty minutes but well, for eddie and for you that's a lifetime.

a hard thud was heard as your back hit the locker, his hands gripping your short pink skirt, both of your bodies almost molding into one before the bell rang making you break the kiss and opening your eyes comically wide.

“ practice! eds, i gotta go. ” he almost whined, making his lips a thin line as he moved to the side so you could move. “ remember i end in twenty minutes— oh, could you get my pink lemonade from that place we went? ” at the end of your sentence you pouted as you always did when asking him to do something for you (which was almost every moment of the day), your pink glossy lips looked so beautiful eddie had to steady himself.

“ of course, baby. wan' me to get you a cake too? ” he asked with that crazy love showing in his eyes as he watched you open your locker again just to fix your makeup, closing it again with a dramatic gasp.

“ yeah! ” you pouted again almost smiling this time. “ you, eddie munson, are the best boyfriend a girl can have. ” you came closer just to kiss his right cheek, 'booping' his nose and giggling as you went to your cheerleading practice after saying a quick and soft “ g'bye. ”

eddie could die happy in that moment.

️️ ️️️️️️️️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣

“ 'cause we're living in a material world, and i am a material girl! ” you hummed the rest of the song, now focused on finishing your nails as you painted them with the new nail polish eddie bought, a cute pink you didn't had before, this one had glitter on it!

your voice was something that always made eddie smile, doesn't matter if you're teasing him, explaining some movie you watched with your family, telling him about the new clothes you got, he will always pay attention just as long as he can hear your voice so, in this ocassion he had to endured the loud music of madonna you have being listening for the past hour.

seeing eddie in your room could be comical, a dark spot laying between your plushies, in a soft pink sheet with dark pink pillows; surrounded with a pink room, filled with posters of elvis presley, michael j. fox, river phoenix and paul mccartney, a big closet filled with different tones of pink, few white clothes too (those were ones nancy gifted you, smiling as she saw how excited you were of the soft material) and your iconic shoes with small heels.

there's a lot of difference between you and eddie as a couple, you are a big splash of pink with glitter while eddie is the black edgy spot you sometimes see. when you both began dating, some people in school made fun of it, thinking it was some mean prank you were pulling on eddie, everyone waiting for the punchline.

it wasn't until the whole school saw the both of you making out in the school's cafeteria that they confirmed it, in a gross way for them anyway.

you jumped out of bed when you finished painting your nails, giving eddie a kiss on his cheek as you walked to your closet, choosing your fluffy pajamas you liked to wear in this type of cold nights.

“ will you stay? ” you asked as you turned to look at him, taking your shorts and blouse off, an innocent look in your face.

if eddie was a beginner in your relationship, he would've mistaken what you were doing as a simple accident but he is better at figuring you out. the glimpse of mischief in your eyes always gave you away.

“ my, my, does my spoiled princess wishes me to stay? ” at the nickname you giggled, nodding as you put the pajamas on. he sighed, faking a (dramatic) thinking face as you whined, making your way to the bed with a pout. “ hm, i don't know if i should... have you been a good girl for me? ” he asked with a soft teasing tone in his voice, watching you crawl next to him in the bed.

“ i'm always a good girl for you! ” you whined again, looking up at him with those pretty bambi eyes and as you cuddled to him feeling the warmth of his body, you saw how a smile appear on his face.

“ well then, i will obey my little girl's orders. ” you laughed, that soft laugh you keep just for him to hear, he always knew the real you.

“ goodnight. ” after a small yawn you left your hands in his chest, resting your cheek in his shoulders while he turned the cute night lamp you had next to his side of the bed, kissing your head as he mumbled a goodnight as well.

eddie stayed there, staring at the ceiling and smiling a little for a few minutes before closing his eyes. he can take your mother screaming at him for sleeping in your room tomorrow — for now he just wants to enjoy the feeling of your body against his, the feeling of you and just you.

#yandere!eddie munson #yandere eddie munson x reader #yandere eddie munson #dark!eddie munson #dark eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson

[ll-bowman]

Thalassophile Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Masterlist

WC:1.7k

CW: feelings of being an outcast, feminine descriptions, boats and deep sea imagery, horrendous flirting

Every few weeks you sail back to a nearby island to restock and try to socialise with more things besides orca vocalisations. The sky is cloudy and the cold wind rushes onto your cheeks making them feel numb and prickly. The seagulls mew as the sound of ships loading and unloading their catch and loading other goods is abundant. The wood dock transitions onto grey cement that leads towards the bustling port town. 

A few locals smile at you and you smile back, a slow familiarity building from your routine stays in town. When you make your way up to the checkout after getting your usual groceries you see the warm smile of an older lady that is always kind to you when you come in.

“Hello dearie, back on land for a few days?” She smiles, her skin creasing along her mouth as she moves your items along as you put them in your bags.

“Yep, I need some interaction that isn’t books and whale sounds.” You laugh politely 

“Maybe you’ll find yourself a companion.” She says laughing as she hands your receipt.

“Maybe, has to love the sea just as much as I do.” 

Her lips quirk up, a look of mischievous glee evident. “Those strong dock workers like the sea quite a lot dearie, look good too.” You smile and give a nod before taking your groceries and leaving.

 As you walk towards your boat to drop off your goods, what Ms.Goodfry mentioned pops into your head. Making your head turn as you watch the crews of various ships now winding down as the sky turns dark. Groups of men and women walking into town to have a drink after a long day.

Your heart aches a bit at the sight. Wishing you had the ability to create those bonds, feel like you fit with other people and not just critters in the ocean. Adjusting your bag you clear your throat and walk back to the boat. Putting your canned goods and produce away as you tidy the cabin up. Deciding to at least be around others you pack your sketchbook and head to the pub in town. Even if you couldn’t have those connections for yourself you could fake it by observing. 

 The pub is bustling for a friday night, which is to be expected you suppose. The air is thick with laughter and the clinking of dishes. The interior is full of stained wood accents and warm light. You walk to the bar island, sitting on a chair you pull your sketchbook and pens out while you wait to order. 

  The time passes quickly as you trace the pencil lines and add shading to the scientific sketches. 

 Eventually a man behind the high top comes across from you, wiping his hands on a towel. He's tall and broad shouldered, shirt hugging his chest with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. Arms covered in blonde hair and veins tensing as he moves about. Sunned skin with mutton chops decorate his face. Even just looking at him makes you feel warm and intensely aware of your body.

“Ello Luv, what can I get for yeh?” He asks, voice a deep British accent. It makes you shiver.

“Oh um can I just get whatever is on tap and do you guys have food here?”

He smiles and reaches down, grabbing a laminated menu and handing it to you. While you take a look at the menu he begins filling a tall glass with the dark foamy liquid. Your eyes skirt across the options and decide on what you want. Gods know you haven’t had one in a while. Can’t exactly make a good burger out at sea.

“Finding anythin to yer liking?” His baritone voice questions.

“Hmm yeah can I get the house burger and fries?” 

“Of course, that one's really good, ere's your beer.” 

You take it from his hand,fingertips lightly touching as you do. You suddenly feel intensely cold, like someone opened a window or a door. Goosebumps and hair standing up on your arms. Before you can look around to see if someone did let in a chill, it's gone. You feel normal again. Weird

You look up at the bartender, his eyes are curious and he looks down at your arms, now covered in goosebumps. 

“You alright there, Dove?” 

“Oh um yeah just felt like there was a breeze or something.” You smile politely as you take a sip of your beer. It's odd you've never had so many terms of endearment let alone from someone you just met. Maybe that's just how he is.

His eyes search yours before offering a small smile back.

“Names John by the way, are yah new to town or just visiting?”

That's a nice name.

“A bit of both I'd suppose. I live out on the water most of the time, marine biology keeps me busy. I come back every couple weeks to spend some time around others.” You say, more relaxed in his presence.

“A real sea lady then? What's your speciality?” He asks, eyes warm and kind.

The question gives you a bit of a start. No one has asked about your interests since college and even then it was from others in your field. Your shoulders ease down a feeling of relaxation that you haven't felt around many others overtakes your nerves.

You talk for a while, time slipping like sand through your fingers. Your food comes and between other customers John comes by many times, checking in. You talk about your work, where you grew up. He tells you he used to be in the British Air Service until he got honourably discharged due to some kind of injury. The food is incredible, truly something that warms you and admittedly makes you want to just bottle that feeling up. But you think the best part is watching John, his frame moving quickly from person to person. His hearty laugh rings out when a patron he knows says something. It seems he’s relatively close with the other workers as well, a collection of certainly different men working beside him in the busy location. As you finish your beer you think to yourself, Maybe I could have something here, something besides the ocean.

The pub is still incredibly busy as you gather your things. A part of you wishes you hadn’t already paid so you could say goodbye to John without seeming odd. You idle there for what feels like minutes, rocking from foot to foot, hand clenched on your bag. You decide he must be busy and you’ll come in another time. You sigh a little resided but still very content from talking for so long with him. The cold chill fills your bones once again as you step outside the warm interior of the pub. It’s peaceful here, the streets are full of warm streetlights and lit windows in family homes. It feels like you could make a home here, enough moving around from job to job. Your daydreaming is interrupted by someone calling your name from behind you. You turn around seeing John lightly jogging towards you.You smile and walk towards him before he closes the space between you. 

“Luv you forgot this.” He says raising his hand out to you. You look down to see your sketchbook in his large hand. Damn is he just large everywhere?

“Oh jeez I can’t believe I left that!” You exclaim while taking the book gently from his hand. 

His smile is big, cheeks bunched under his beard and eyes crinkled at the edges, hands tucked into his jean pockets. You feel shy under his gaze, like when you had a crush on an older boy in school. Even if you’re now in your 30s.

Your body feels warm, in contrast to the chilly night air. Truly it feels like you’re still inside the pub. Cheeks now feel like they’re burning up.

“Thank you for coming after me, you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve come in the morning to pick it up.”

“It’s no problem, we aren’t open til later in the day and I didn’t get to say goodbye.” Even in the dim light his eyes are warm, gentle. Like a warm spot you find in the cold ocean.

“I didn’t want to take up your time, Fridays are busy.” Lie, you wanted to spend forever talking to him.

A silence consumes the air, the distant sound of laughing from distant parties making their way home is the only thing that breaks the stillness between you. It isn’t awkward in the slightest, it's like you don’t need words. You hope he feels what you feel. The anxious excitement in the back of your throat begging to come up and show how much you already like him.

You clear your throat. “Thank you for speaking and keeping me company John. I really appreciate it.”

“It was my pleasure, dove. To be able to talk with such an intelligent beautiful woman was an honour.” He says while reaching a hand to your face. Skating a warm palm against your cheek, taking his finger and sweeping a loose hair strand behind your ear. The action makes you swoon like a teen and you swear your heart misses a beat.

“Could I walk you home?” His hand retreating as he tilts his head in question.

“Only if you don’t mind.” And with that you turn together and walk to the dock, to your anchored boat to say farewell.

You stand next to the cabin door and smile softly at John, cheeks flushed and warm. 

“I’m off tomorrow night, would you like to go out for dinner with me?” Your heart freezes then restarts again

You feel like you can’t speak for what feels like minutes but what is only a few seconds.

“I would love that, John.” You laugh nervously, unused to someone actively pursuing you.

His cheeks scrunch again, smile wide as you exchange numbers. Waving shyly as he walks back up the doc as you cup your own warm cheek, absolutely giddy at the thought of tomorrow night.

You get ready for bed dazed and fall into bed, smiling as you fall asleep.

#captain john price x reader #cod fanfiction #f!reader #john price x female reader #vampirism

[dalishthunder]

Tell Me How Much You Love Me

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Sun/reader/Moon (afab reader but no use of gendered pronouns) Word count: 2,392

This work contains possessive behavior and language, Sun does not have a schlong rip

__________________________

"What are we?"

You'd gotten home from work about two hours ago, and he'd been unusually quiet since that moment. Normally you couldn't get Sun to shut up, not that you ever really wanted him to. You were all too aware of how isolated he and Moon were now that the PizzaPlex had burned down. At least you got to talk to coworkers... they had you.

You looked up at him from your seat on your bed; His rays were still warped from the heat of that morning, meticulously repainted, but not the same. Never the same. His fingers steepled together, expression uncertain.

You let out a long breath, biting your bottom lip as you contemplated his words. Because sometimes you were weren't sure of the answer outside of the most obvious, "You guys are animatronics."

"No. No, I didn't mean-" He chuckled, just a bit too high, just a bit too tinny. "Stardrop, I mean what are we?" He gestured to you then back to himself.

Oh.

You smiled dumbly for a second, trying very hard to squash down the part of you that had maybe, on more than one occasion, had incredibly lewd thoughts about them. You managed to be very quiet whenever you did your business, so you really hoped you'd never let anything slip when you were asleep somehow. You didn't want to weird him out... oh god, you were weirding him out weren't you?

"I, uh- um... w-we're friends."

"You said you love us. We live together." He took a step forward, then another, small and just a bit wobbly, thumbs twiddling over one another.

Words caught in your throat like twice-boiled molasses, thick and gummy and impossible to pull apart, mouth opening and closing uselessly so you just gave him a nervous smile. This was the exact reason you had redownloaded Tinder. To make sure things didn't get too weird between you two- er... three. That you wouldn't get too weird around them.

The bed dipped as he sat down, posture slouched, staring at the floor for a moment before looking back at you, "You've done so much for us."

You tongue was lead in your mouth. Was he really so much better off here than the Plex? Sure he had a garden, and plenty of time to explore his own interests. And Moon had bookshelves full of tomes; fiction and nonfiction alike, and five hundred subscribers on Twitch. But you knew they missed the kids, and there really wasn't much you could do about that without getting your ass sued for "stealing Fazbear property" or some shit.

What if they wanted to leave and never come back?

It was their prerogative. They were fully sapient people capable of making their own decisions.

But god if that wouldn't just-

"I've- We've- been looking some things up online, and you've been so, so, sososo so indulgent with us." Sun's hand came to rest on your knee, his long fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, and all thought fled from whatever was left of your brain leaving only static in its wake. He inched closer, hand sliding ever so slightly up up your leg. "I wanted to try something with you, if- if that's okay. To show our gratitude."

"You guys don't owe me any-"

His finger on your lips stopped you, hand squeezing the meat of your thigh in a way that lit a dangerous heat in you as he moved to cup your cheek in his oversized palm, thumb running over your bottom lip. "Honeybee," He rested his forehead on yours, voice barely above a whisper, "Please, please, please let me make love to you."

You blinked up at him, so very, very aware of the tips of his fingers ghosting along your flesh. And suddenly all of the little things began to add up, Sun calling himself a house husband, 'joking' about being married. The casual touches, that skirted the line between friendly and charged, that had been increasing in frequency.

Your jaw worked uselessly for a moment before you cleared your throat, "What about Moon? Is he okay with this? You do share a body...."

"He wants this just as much as I do."

"I never realized you guys um...." You faltered for a moment, inflamed cheeks heating even more. "Had the parts or uh... inclination for it."

"Parts?" Sun asked. Then chuckled as it hit him, "Oh! No. Uh... no. Nope. Nothing in these pants but love, I'm afraid. But, I do have these," He gave your thigh another squeeze with his long, long fingers. "And a can-do attitude! And- and there are always toys! I'm not sure if you have any, but well, we did some perusing, and we have a few models we'd like to try with you."

You weren't sure if setting them up with a bank account of their own was either your most brilliant or your dumbest idea yet (you were leaning towards brilliant). You could Just make out the faint white iris' of his eyes shift, "But if this isn't something you want, w- we don-"

"No. I, um, I do." You quickly nodded, acutely aware of how his hand had begun to slide up your leg again, "I want thi-"

The words hadn't finished leaving your lips before his warm mouth was against yours, and though he didn't exactly have a traditional mouth with which to kiss you, you couldn't help but to kiss him back; The texture of metal and silicone against your skin was both strange and welcoming. He puled back after a moment, staring at you fondly.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time, Sunlight."

You nodded, "Me too."

His rays spun around his face, and he let out a giddy little giggle.

God, it was freeing to admit that.

Warm fingers slipped under your shirt, tracing over the skin of your belly, fanning the hot coals already smoldering there. You let out a stilted breath as his hand traveled northward, fingertips grazing over your chest, gently kneading your flesh. "You're so soft, Starlight. So absolutely perfect."

He pressed his faceplate to the side of your face, humming, thumb sliding down to the pulse point on your neck, "Your heart's beating so fast, Darling. You want this just as much as me, don't you? Oh please, please, please please tell me you want this as much as I do. I want to hear you say it so, so bad!"

Your breath hitched as the animatronic groped your more firmly, fingers finding a nip and tweaking it. "W-want you so- ah- so badly, Sunny." You wrapped your arms around his him, holding him close.

He giggled again, his hand coming under your ass, squeezing it and scooting you to the middle of the bed, crawling over you. He teased the inside of your thigh as he nestled between them, pushing your shirt up to expose your chest to the evening air.

"You're so beautiful." His voice was reverent as he spoke. "The most wonderful and perfect human in the whole, entire world. All for me."

"You're beautiful too," You whispered back with a smile.

"I wish I had a mouth so I could taste you."

You could feel yourself give a clench at the thought of him biting you and leaving hickies everywhere, but you weren't about to lament about what he couldn't do; That would just be rude. So you only pulled him closer and kissed him hard, tonge lapping against the cool metal of his teeth. Sun gave a little, content hum, splaying his hand across your belly, the other massaging the meat of your thigh through your thin shorts.

He pulled away to undo his Hawaiian shirt, hesitating just a moment before tossing it into the corner. "I'll pick that up later."

A laugh escaped your throat, "Don't worry about that right now."

"Right. Right, right, right." His hands slipped under your shorts, pulling them off, quickly following suit with your underwear. "Oh, Darling, I can't wait to feel you around me...." He pressed his faceplate to your chest, peppering your skin with little bonks accompanied by an exaggerated kissing sound.

"I never- ah-" His fingers teased your nip again, "Realized you guys knew about t-this stuff."

"Well, we've always been aware of the concept, but we wanted to surprise you with something nice, so we searched adult toys and found the results illuminating. Not to mention some of the novels you keep around!" You snorted, but shivered as his fingers pressed to your bottom lip. "Now be good for me and open up."

You swiped your tongue across the tips, and opened your mouth obediently because the way his voice dropped as he said it really, really did something for you. You could have sworn he was smiling even wider as he slid his index and middle fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and gliding against it. The taste of his silicone skin  reached the back of your tongue as he pushed in further, further, just a bit too far, and you pulled back slightly after gagging. "Oh right, most people have gag reflexes! Sorry!"

He began to pull his fingers out before you grabbed him by the wrist, meeting his eyes and giving them an experimental suck with a throaty moan. Sun stared at you for a moment in enraptured silence. You ran your tongue along them, bobbing your head shallowly, and you were rewarded with the very audible increase in volume as his secondary cooling system kicked on. "Starlight, the things I'm going to do with you...."

You were positive you were wet already.

After an eternity he pulled his hand away, a lewd string of saliva still connecting them to your mouth. "Sunny, please."

"Please what, Starlight?" He asked, cheeky as ever.

"I need you to touch me."

He twined his fingers with yours and pushed your legs even further apart, teasing the junction of the inside of your thigh. "Your wish is my command." He ghosted his fingers along your lower lips, and you let out a soft moan. His second pass was firmer, and you bucked your hips into his touch, wrapping a leg around him.

Finally, finally, he parted your folds, the tip of his finger finding your entrance and rubbing against it, featherlight. Your back arched, and you panted as his thumb brushed against your nub before swirling around it. "Oh, Darling, I wish you could see your face right now. You look absolutely divine." He added pressure, teasing your entrance even further, almost but not quite slipping in, his thumb continuing to rub circles around your bud.

You rocked against his hand, and he moaned, "So, so eager. Look at you! Use your words, Darling, let me hear you say it."

"Sunnyyy," You whined. "Please, I need you inside me! Please, I need you."

"How could I ever resist you when you ask so politely." He said, teasing just a bit more before slowly, slowly pushing into you with his finger. Your head fell back, back arching, long, thin finger bottoming out to the knuckle after what felt like an eternity. "You're so silky and smooth on the inside, and warm." He wiggled his finger around and you clenched around him, mouth parted in a silent o. "And tight."

Sun gave an experimental pump, shallow and gentle.

"Ah, S-Sun," You panted, and he pumped faster. "My perfect boy, my s-sweet boy. Fuck... I love you so much, please, faster."

He crooked his finger, managing to hit just the right spot and you keened. "Starlight, Sunlight, light of my life, say it again! Tell me how much you love me." He picked up the speed, setting an almost brutal pace. "How much you want me. How much you need me!"

"Yes, y-yes! W-want you.... Need you." It felt heavenly, but you needed more. "F-fucked myself to the thought of you for ss- ah- so long." You admitted. "Needed you so, so badly."

He rewarded you by vibrating his thumb against your nub, and you bit your lip to stifle your cry. "Oh, Sweetpea, you should have said something! We've wanted to do this ever since we learned about it." Nuzzling into your neck, he purred out a soft, "D'you think you can handle a second?"

"Please, please, please pleasepleaseplease," You babbled, rocking against him with fervor.

His middle finger slid in beside his first and you bit your cheek so hard it hurt. You were so full you could barely breathe, so thoroughly stretched out on him, slick dripping down your ass onto the sheets below you, the lewd sounds echoing all around the room. There was no way you'd be able to last long like this.

He scissored his fingers, curling them over and over against your spot. "Will you be mine, Honeybee? Please say you'll be mine! All mine, mine, mine!?"

"Y-yes." You moaned, fisting the covers as his other hand caressed your neck.

"So tell me then, Darling, who's are you?" He murmured, voice dropping an octave in your ear.

"Y-yours!"

"Only mine- Only mine and Moony's?" He slowed down his ministrations to a crawl.

"On-only yours- ah- and Moon's!"

Sun planted a kiss on your cheek with a little giggle, "My perfect little shooting star." Picking up his brutal pace again, he vibrated his fingers, and you saw stars.

God, you were so close.

So fucking close.

You babbled out loud, hips bucking against him in wild abandon. "D-don't stop. P-please don't stop!"

"I wouldn't dream of it." He curled his fingers just right, whispering out encouragements; "I love you so much. Come on, love. Come on, I've got you... I've got you...."

And that was all you needed for that rubber band to snap, pulsing around him, back arching so hard it almost hurt, a soft sob caught in your throat. He fucked your through your orgasm, stopping when you started squirming from overstimulation.

"Fuck...." You let out a shaky breath, head starting to finally come down from the clouds. "Holy hell, Sunny, that was...." You blinked back some tears as you steadied yourself.

"Amazing? Stupendous? Wonderful? Magical? Terrific-"

"All of the above."

He rolled onto his side, pulling you close. "I love you so much, Stardrop."

"I love you guys too."

#Thunderous Applesauce #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #sun/reader #fnaf moon #moon/reader #x reader #fnaf sb #AATMB universe

[doubtingthomasin]

prompt 26: exhibitionism three - secret vibrator sex

word count: 2.5k

MINORS DNI

@viharker

-------

Chrissy's always been a little too competitive for her own good, even if something isn't necessarily a competition. From foot-races with her little brother to cheerleading contests, her goal is always to win. It doesn’t even have much to do with her mother’s ridiculously high standards; she’d love to win no matter what. She's a gracious loser even when sorely disappointed, but if she had her way, "failure" would never appear in her vocabulary. Yet unfortunately, sometimes, there is no other option than to tap out–a lesson which Eddie is about to teach her.

She’s looking for a pair of socks that she knows she left behind once, searching his drawers when she comes across it. The overwhelming curiosity quickly carries her to the kitchen, where Eddie’s grabbing a drink before they leave for the grocery store.

“What’s this?” she asks, holding up what looks like a small harness.

He peeks over the fridge door, eyes popping open wide before he stands up straight. “Oh, sort of…forgot to mention that.” She stands there, staring, waiting for a more descriptive answer. “It’s a, uh…vibrator.”

Her brow furrows as she looks at the contraption, threading the straps between her fingers. “It doesn’t look like any vibrator I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, you wear it, you don’t hold it,” he explains.

“Oh.” Silence. “Why?”

He shuts the fridge door slowly. “It’s a game people play sometimes, where one person wears the vibrator and the other has a remote control.”

Her eyebrows disappear under her bangs as she considers the implications. “You mean, like…out in public?”

He shrugs, starting to sweat bullets. “Yeah.”

“But you couldn’t wear this,” she reasons, “so you got it for me.” He looks down at the ground as he nods, and her stomach thrills.

“I was sorta…thinking ahead, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…I know we haven’t been hooking up for very long, but I guess I thought…if you were interested…”

She blinks at him before lowering her arm, inspecting the vibrator. In a weird way, she’s touched. If she’s understanding him correctly, he possibly wouldn’t have bought it unless he deeply feels that they have a shot at a future together. The thought makes her smile, which isn’t exactly the reaction he was expecting. “Like I said, it’s only if you’re interested, and we probably haven’t been together long enough for that, so–”

“Is that a challenge?” He meets her eye again to see a glint there, almost flashing with an air of defiance. It’s unnerving in the sexiest way possible.

He swallows hard. “Not really, no.”

“Oh, you don’t think I can handle it?” she asks coyly.

He tilts his head a little, smirks. “You know what? No, I don’t. It can be pretty intense, from what I’ve heard.”

She nods, her shoulders squared, chin raised against his doubt. “Okay, then.” She walks down the hallway, and he hears the bathroom door shut.

It’s ten minutes later, and he’s been trying desperately not to get his hopes up and failing when she emerges, smoothing down her pleated skirt. “Oh!” She flits back to his room, flouncing down the hall a moment later to place the small remote in his hand and walk to the door.

“Wait, are you really wearing it?!” he asks loudly in utter disbelief, which is quickly quashed when she flips up the back of her skirt, the straps lining her thighs underneath her pretty blue panties. “Je-sus.”

“Let’s go,” she sings, gliding out the door, Eddie following close behind and wondering just when he’s going to wake up.

They make it to the store twenty more minutes later, and Eddie’s been holding the remote the entire time but hasn’t pressed the button even once. She knows there’s no way he’s forgotten, so he’s definitely playing some kind of angle. She’s both anxious and exhilarated to find out what it is, already strategizing various ways to win this challenge.

They walk in the sliding doors, the building mostly empty at first glance, and Eddie grabs her a cart. They only have a few items to buy so she looks up at him, confused. “I think you’re gonna want it, sweetheart.” He smirks before walking out of sight and she shakes her head, a small spike of dread hitting her chest.

She walks toward the produce stands, looking for the two items she needs from that section. She’s passing an older woman looking at oranges when the vibrator suddenly kicks on. Her legs instantly twitch as she gasps loudly, but it only lasts a second.

“Are you okay, dear?” Chrissy turns toward the lady, eyes wide with embarrassment.

“Oh…my God,” she exclaims. “The…bananas are so expensive nowadays!” She laughs nervously, hoping it’s convincing.

“Oh, everything is,” the lady starts dramatically. She goes on about the price of fuel, current government leadership, and what she’s making for dinner later that evening, and she’s never even seen this woman before in her life. Meanwhile, Chrissy’s stuck in the second circle of Hell, the vibrator switching on every few seconds to buzz away at her clit. “Say…aren’t you Phillip Cunningham’s daughter?”

Oh, fuck. “Yes, ma’am I–am.” She’s actually going to kill him.

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” She seems genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, just…headache,” she says with a smile, rubbing her temple. “Better get this shopping done before it gets worse. Have a nice day, ma’am!” She calls the last part over her shoulder, already leaving the area–then circling back quickly to get what she needs. Thankfully, he leaves her be for those few minutes.

But also, how the hell does he know where she is or when she’s talking to someone?

She moves on to the dry goods–Ironic, she thinks–picking up a box of cereal when it kicks on again. Chrissy all but throws the box in the cart, her fingers white-knuckled on the handle. He lets it run for a few seconds longer this time before it turns off again, and she’s already gasping, thankful she was alone for that one.

But each time it activates, she has to reorganize her thoughts after it ceases, so she winds up taking a few wrong turns. She’s standing at the back of the store, idly looking up at the angled ceiling mirrors along the top of the back wall when it hits her.

He’s using them to watch her.

She scans the mirrors herself but wherever he is, he can’t be seen from her angle. But apparently, he can see her, because she’s about to start hunting when the vibrator whirs to life again. Only this time, it stays on.

She gasps for air, trying to keep quiet, looking around the empty area for anywhere to hide when she remembers the bathrooms are nearby. She’s always hated those bathrooms, with one door that doesn’t lock all the way and a sink that’s always broken, random toilet paper crumpled in one corner, but they're her only hope at the moment. She scurries toward them, leaving her cart and rushing inside to lock the door behind her.

The vibrator continues as she covers her mouth to stifle the moans, bracing herself against a sink with her free hand. Her legs shake again while they spread wider out of habit, leaning on both arms as she comes with a loud whine. She’s really worried for a moment when it doesn’t turn off, slapping the porcelain and whimpering until it does. She’s given a chance to catch her breath, and she takes that opportunity to wipe off her inner thighs with one-ply toilet paper as best she can.

Chrissy exits the bathroom, rounding the corner to see Eddie standing by the cart. She narrows her eyes at his innocent smile before turning it toward the registers. “Sleep with one eye open, Munson.”

He scoffs a laugh before leaning down to her ear. “May I remind you of who wanted to do this.”

“Yeah, but damn,” she exclaims quietly. “That was raising the stakes too high–oh, crap, we need steaks.”

“I’ll get ‘em.” And he’s gone from her sight again before she can stop him. She growls, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, and she hasn’t even taken five steps before the device springs to life. She parks at the end of an aisle, staying still even after he switches it off, her hands in fists as she feels the cart shake from someone grabbing it.

“At least wait until I’m–” Her stomach swoops sickeningly when she realizes it’s not Eddie. “Jason.”

“Hey, Chris.” He stands awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing around. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, probably, but…I hate how we left things.”

Oh, she’s absolutely praying Eddie can see who she’s talking to.

“W-What do you mean?” She knows exactly what he means, remembering the bruise around her wrist that took a full week to fade away. The bite mark, however–

Jason sighs before continuing. “I just hate the thought of us not even being friends. It’s killing me.”

She shrugs, waiting for her impending doom. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you yelled at me until I was crying.”

He hangs his head, shakes it. “I know, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for–” He gestures toward her wrist. “–for that, too.”

It buzzes for not even a second. She closes her eyes against it, shifts her weight on her feet. It stops. “What’s your angle here, Jason?”

“Angle?”

She sees Eddie come around the corner behind him, widens her eyes at him, and he hides. “Listen, I gotta be somewhere soon, so can we just get to the point here, please?”

He nods, clearing his throat. “I want us to get back together.”

“Are you serious?”

“I know things weren’t always perfect, but we can work at it.”

“‘We’? Jason…” She rubs the bridge of her nose, jolting slightly at a sudden, short buzz and smacking her fist against the cart handle. “I’ve moved on, okay? You should, too.”

“But Chris–”

“And don’t call me that!” She almost yells it, satisfied with his stunned expression as she huffs. “Just leave me alone.”

He sniffs angrily, jaw clenched. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

“You’re obsessed,” she snaps. “Find a hobby.” When it’s clear she’s not backing down, he shakes his head and storms away. Once he’s out of sight, she rushes to the end of the aisle to see Eddie’s wide, guilty eyes.

“Fuck, did it turn on?” he whisper-yells.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Same volume.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I dropped it and accidentally hit the button when I picked it up.” She snatches the remote from him, curling her hand around it. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to do that. Did he notice?”

“No,” she assured him with an eye roll. “He wouldn’t even know what it looks like when I come.” His eyebrows raise, and she rubs her forehead as she realizes she said too much for the middle of a grocery store on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Oh, um…okay.” He nods slowly. “Interesting information to have.”

“Can we please just go check out?” she sighs. “I just wanna go home now.”

He nods, kicking himself mentally. “Yeah, I can drop you off on my way back to the trailer park.”

“No, what?” She looks desperately confused before she realizes what she said, and in the same second, he realizes what she really meant. “I…I meant ‘your place.’”

It’s another one of those few times Eddie is rendered speechless, a soft warmth spreading through his entire body, because not only does Chrissy feel safe and loved when she comes over to his house. 

She considers it home.

They’re about to enter the checkout line when he finally speaks again. “Go on out to the car, I’ll take care of this.”

“It’s fine, I can–”

“Chrissy.” His voice becomes firmer, making her squeeze her legs together when she notices the glowing embers in his eyes. “Go to the car.”

She nods as he takes the remote from her, mouthing the words. Yes, master.

He bites his lip, the faintest hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth as she pivots to walk out the door. She knows he can see the van from where he’s standing, and sure enough, the moment she shuts the door, he presses the button.

She clears her mind of the bullshit with her ex, focusing on chasing her own pleasure as the vibrator does its job, unraveling her in less than two minutes. She’s resting her head on her arm against the dashboard by the times he gets in the driver’s seat. “Seriously, are you okay?”

She knows he isn’t talking about the vibrator. “I’m fine. Or I will be.” He rubs circles on her back before he takes off down the road.

They’ve got twenty minutes before they’re home. “Want another?”

She just nods, laying back in the seat as he activates it. She moans loudly, taking full advantage of the fact that she doesn’t have to be quiet there. In less than a minute, she’s writhing again, her head hitting the seat as her body tries to arch against the seatbelt.

“So you mean to tell me,” Eddie begins casually, as if he isn’t already completely hard, “that he never made you come? Not even once?”

“Exactly.”

He scoffs. “Asshole.” He turns it on again, waits for her to come once more before he continues. “So I’m the first to do so?”

“Don’t get a big head about it,” she moans, gasping for air again. She wails when he turns it on again, coasting her into her fifth orgasm in an hour’s time. After it fades there’s an edge of pain she’s not sure she’s ever felt before. “Eddie.”

“I’m just making sure I understand,” he replies, switching it on again. “You’re saying, without a doubt, that–”

“Tigers! Tigers!”

He throws the remote down immediately, pulling over sharply to the side of the road. “Shit, are you okay?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirms, her chest heaving. He pulls her to his shoulder, kissing the top of her head. “I hate losing.”

He can’t help but chuckle, and she joins him as the pain fades. “Would you like the, uh…consolation prize, princess?” She looks up at him with glassy eyes, and nods.

Five minutes later they’re in the back of the van, Eddie buried balls deep in her cunt as she rides him, fists gripping the back of his vest. He doesn’t touch her clit, doesn’t roll his hips, just lets her finish him off how she wants. But after seeing Jason, she wants, needs to physically feel every inch of the man she loves now. Even if it hurts a little.

He comes quickly, his soft face bathed in ecstasy as he shoots into her, fingers digging into her hip bones. She kisses the air out of his lungs as they rest against the back of the driver’s seat, and once his eyes clear, he can see the satisfied smile gracing her lips.

“Let’s go home and do that again.”

#istg jason keeps popping up like goddamn whack-a-mole we need mallets #this is very real very true in a small town though trust meeee #also the sappiness came out of nowhere too but i cry #eddissy #hellcheer #hellcheer kinktober #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #evan's writing #this one needs fine tuning

[butchviking]

What does "feminism can and must be compatible with trans issues" mean to you? Ive been trying to be more inclusive, but trans issues often to seem to be incompatible with feminism.

hm well that was one line of the post that i did think 'i wouldnt phrase it quite that way'. i think besides the weird-ass conservative strains of feminism that dont reflect what i consider feminism at all, feminism IS compatible with trans issues. not that "it must be" like feminists have to change what they're doing to revolve more around trans issues or anything - feminism has no obligation to fight for trans issues just like the anti-racism movement has no obligation to fight sexism and the gay rights movement has no obligation to fight for disability rights - but that those causes simply ARE compatible. classic example: the public bathroom debate. right now that's often framed like feminism and trans activism are diametrically opposed and there can be no resolution for one that doesn't contradict the needs of the other. the trans activist movement wants all public toilets to be unisex and based on gender identity instead; the feminist movement wants sex-segregation regardless of gender identity. only, most feminists i know all agree by now that just. adding a unisex/gender-neutral option is literally the obvious and best way to keep people safe. and if there's no room for adding an extra, convert all the current spaces to single-stall unisex facilities. that way literally everyone is kept safe, no-one's rights are encroached on at all and anyone who takes issue is either a predator upset that they don't have the opportunities for abuse they wanted or a selfish weirdo who only cares about how they feel abt women or trans ppl or whatever ("but thats not good enough i want to use the WOMENS room!!"/"why should we have to give up OUR space just because of the transgenders!!") rather than about the actual safety & wellbeing of both of those groups. we're made to think feminism and trans rights activism are incompatible on this, its one of the biggest talking points in conservative media bc they KNOW it gets everyone at each others throats. but theyre literally compatible theyre literally so so compatible there is no reason on this earth anyone should still be having this stupid fucking debate its such a COLOSSAL waste of all our time.

there are certain things i think some feminists could do with not being so weird about. a lot of women are still super yucked out by male gender non-conformity and a lot of them for some reason still won't even admit it even though they bang on about it aallllll the time - but oh no, that's not bc they think it's creepy and fucked up for dudes to wear dresses and makeup, they're only saying these horrible things abt it because this one dude is transgender and that means they're evil and misogynistic by default so theyre fair game! (does anyone remember - haha kidding i know u remember i know i never shut up abt it - how many women on radblr were so so weirded out and for some reason ANGERED by gerard in his little dresses & skirts. he's not even trans. in fact suddenly everyone seemed to be saying "oh yeah he's definitely going to come out as trans sometime soon 🙄 he's obviously drunk all the gender kool-aid 🙄" like shut up you literally just made that up in your head to try and justify ur anger. shut upppp.) or sometimes it's like "men shouldnt wear makeup because its mocking our oppression it's wearing our chains for fun" - it really isnt and you need to get over yourself.

there are also certain things some trans activists could do with not being so weird about. if i see one more fucking transwoman act like its her god-given right to be included in lesbian dating pools, or transman that its his god-given right to be included in gay mens dating pools, i am going to start burning things i am going to start burning so many things and people too and i am going to squidge all the organs from inside these people until all the moisture is wrung out and i am going to set those on fire too. homosexuality is fucking natural innate sex-based and NORMAL and HEALTHY and GOOD. ive seen pro-trans lesbians turn into "terfs" based on this point alone btw - they were so fucking sick of all the homophobia they became vehemently opposed to the whole movement. they began to believe that feminism, gay rights activism, and trans rights activism AREN'T compatible. i still believe they are i just think some people need to throw out the bullshit that isnt actually relevant to either cause.

#my break is over so i am forced 2 shut up. its for the best this is long i talk so much sry #ask #anonymous

[roobylavender]

what would you say are some of talia's flaws? or undealt with issues/mindsets/beliefs that harm her in the long run?

oh GOODY

self-worth the size of a raisin. obv this marginally improves with her decision to leave both ra's and bruce behind but it's not like her situation at lexcorp necessarily helps. for all of the hatred i can express towards death and the maidens i do think it gets the idea right that by the end of her stint talia is incredibly embittered and lonely to the point of extreme vulnerability bc she feels like she matters to no one. i honestly think the general premise of death and the maidens could have been a great way to finally explore the brunt of all of that self-inflicted inferiority if not for the fact that writers after its publication gave less than two fucks about addressing it (probably in line with the whole chasing every o'neil protégé out of bat editorial thing rucka and grayson talked about)

she would sacrifice herself at the drop of a hat. most of the time we tend to frame this as the cornerstone of her sense of duty but i also believe it stems from the fact that living under ra's has ultimately made her view herself as a cog in the machine. for however much she espouses an appreciation of the world around us and taking the time to truly live at the end of the day she will sacrifice her own long-term happiness if it means doing something for the greater good. again. lexcorp. she put herself in one of the most isolated and miserable positions a person could take with no other connections to reach out to for over a year bc she knew it was the right thing to do and she had the power to do it

infuriatingly stubborn. this is what factors more into her sense of duty imo like the self-sacrificial nature definitely stems from how she was raised but the stubbornness is purely a product of her personal moral code and yet again a catalyst to her progressive isolation and loneliness bc she's willing to let go how unhappy something might make her so long as the something is by her own choice and to some beneficial end. hence why lexcorp is an endeavor she sees through even though it makes her miserable

these are the big ones imo and they all kinda overlap with each other to paint this really interesting picture of a woman trapped within the narrative. which i think can actually present incredible storytelling opportunities (i discuss it a little re: carol here) so long as you as a writer are willing to contend with those circumstances in good faith and address them wholeheartedly rather than simply skirt past them as necessary elements to the story. not to bring up death and the maidens again but with some tweaks here and there i really do think it could have been an interesting direction to pursue with talia as a character. to me the problem with the comic is not so much that this relationship with nyssa was created (though let me clarify i absolutely wish the specific details of nyssa's background were different bc haphazardly using the holocaust as a plot point was fucked and weird) and carried out to that end rather the problem is we get no actual resolution to the comic in any narrative thereafter. and i think that stems not just from the way editorial priorities were shifting at the time but also bc of how bruce was framed to react to talia being "converted" to evil towards the end. like yeah i think you can reason bruce might have expected a rejection from her bc a good chunk of lexcorp era was about him recognizing how indirectly shitty he had been to her but at the same time that never meant he believed she was capable of being as evil and depraved as her father (and thereby nyssa) and ideally the follow-up to death and the maidens should have been about bruce trying to get to the root of what happened to her and trying to save her with the help of people who would also then grow to care about her so she could develop the support network she always needed to survive. and we all know that never happened bc editorial didn't care lol

#eh i'll tag for funsies it's been a while #death and the maidens is similar to under the red hood to me in that the premise is genuinely interesting but #the execution in places is severely lacking and leads to more dead ends than loose threads that can be picked up thereafter #outbox #talia al ghul #dc

[geordon]

I think there's a pretty big difference between lashing out when scared/stressed and being an angry person.

Between having an amount if anger in you that comes out when things get bad and being the one that makes thing bad

Between violence in reaction to something and actively wanting to cause harm

And I think some people could really do better in understanding that difference

#geo dialogue.txt #idk ive just been thinking about how the vrai fandom characterizes gordon #and how some people apparently watched a wat different series than i did based on the fanfics ive either read or looked at the tag of #and some people try to skirt the line in a really weird way of oh no he literally attacked ben but then snapped out of it #which could maybe work in Specific Circumstances but. the one im thinking of was literally just. the kitchware was all on the counters #bc ben didnt know that that isnt how it should work. its such a disproportionate response #but the rest of the fic treats it like this isnt a major thing. like. i Inderstand that people respond to trauma in wild ways #i get that. but if you attack someone over something that small then maybe you should tell them it would be best if they hung back for a bi #then you should go directly to therapy and get that sorted bc thats messed up and you cant pretend everything is fine bc you cried abt it #and you know what? the entire rest of the plot of that specific fic wouldnt have happened. which id be fine with #bc it involved gordon deciding to play with bens feelings to find out what those feelings were #which would suck and be awful even if it wasnt involving someone who spend a good chunk of time as a science experiment #if youre going to characterize gordon as someone with barely controlled anger issued whod do that then dont chicken out #if youre going to make him do these things then dont continue on to talk about how hes still a good person #maybe i only have strong feelings abt this bc im someone who lashes out when cornered & also with a sibling with really bad anger issues #but it really bothers me when people completely ignore that pre rescas gordon greeted everyone cheerily #and that post rescas gordon genuinely wanted to try to save as many peopld as possible #and acab stream gordon actively wanted civillians gone before the shooted started #that doesnt read to me as someone who'd attack someone who was trying to help but didnt know how #anyway hi i have a lot of feelings about things and got reminded of this in particular #not tagging the fandom stuff but if yoy wanna reblog or add onto this feel free

[sukirichi]

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

 “I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

#sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader imagines #ryoumen sukuna x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader fluff #sukuna x reader romance #sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x you imagines #sukuna x you fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

[proserpina-magnus]

Hi! Can I request a young Sirius black x reader smut? Readers boobs are all tender and swollen and Sirius makes her feel better? Sirius black is definitely a boob guy

Thank you so much for you request! I really liked this idea and I had fun writing it! Hope you enjoy. xo 

Sirius Black and breast worship 

Word count: 1601

[ warning: fem reader, description of aching breasts, slight praise kink, slight degrading kink, tittie slapping (mentioned once), breast worship, smut, titty fucking, mention of the words ‘slut’ ‘‘good girl’  etc...] 

You let out a deep sigh, your breast uncomfortably pushing against your bra. You felt the wire dig into your ribs, making you twist and turn to try and get it in the right position. 

You tried to focus on your food, watching as James did something stupid to try and please Lily, it didn't work. You kept twitching in your seat, your fork twirling around your uneaten food as you felt waves of ache wash over your chest. 

"Something wrong?" Sirius whispered to you, taking a sip of his water as he eyed you suspiciously. You had been acting weird all morning, and it wasn't doing you any better that most of the guys wouldn't stop staring at your chest. 

"Just fine," you muttered, fork scraping against your plate as you move your shoulder blades. You wanted to toss your bra away, going bare would at least give you some comfort for the ache. 

"You don't seem fine," your boyfriend mused, his shoulder clinking with yours as he finished his drink. You glared at him, already fed up with how your day was going. You felt hot in the face, your throat sweating as you blinked back some sensitive tears. 

"Yeah well I'm not, I'm uncomfortable and my tits fucking hurt," you whispered angrily to him, keeping your voice low in case anyone bystander would catch what you were saying. 

Sirius pushed his plate aside, standing up before helping you stand as well. 

"Where are you two going?" Remus asked eyebrow raised as some of the people at the  Gryffindor table looked towards your direction. 

"Just a well-needed break is all, don't wait up," Sirius told them, pulling you along the dinner hall. You let him, hoping he was going to provide some comfort to your aching breast. 

"Why didn't you tell me this morning? I would have loved to be buried in your tits," Sirius asked, walking past talking portraits and statues before he got to the fat lady. He quickly said the password, pulling you along quickly up the stairs. 

"I thought it would go away, Sirius please hurry they hurt," you whined, feeling your breast bounce against your bra as you make your way up the stairs, Sirius turns quickly eyes instantly going to your clothed chest. He gave you a smirk then connected his lips with yours. 

"Shh, I'll take care of you real soon I promise," Sirius cooed quietly, leading you to his empty dorm. Once inside and the door locked with a charm, his fingers were opening your blouse. You let him undress you, helping him pull off the fabric. 

He came to sit at the end of the bed, bringing you closer with a hand on your hip as he looked up towards you. 

"Hurry up," you said, unhooking your bra as it fell against the floor. Sirius let his eyes wander to your exposed chest, your breast flushed and tender as you exhale from the release. 

His hands instantly came to rest on them, palms massaging your aching tits as your hands found their way into his hair. 

"Fuck they look so swollen baby," Sirius said, his fingers finding their way to pull against your nipple as you crawl onto his lap. 

"Just touch them please, you make them feel better," you told him, pushing your chest into his hand as you let your eyes fall shut. You let out whimpers as he massaged your breasts, tears coaxing your vision as you felt relief wash over you. 

The weight of them disappeared as Sirius kept playing with them, your breast slowly releasing the tension as it got messaged by his well-needed hands. 

"That feels so fucking nice, you have no idea" you whimpered, shoulders relaxed as you lean into him. Your hips meet his, you easily fall into a subtle grind. You open your eyes briefly, seeing Sirius's face. His pupils were blown wide open, he looked like the happiest man alive. You chuckle, making your chest bounce as you can almost see Sirius roll his eyes into the back of his skull. 

"God, can I fuck you? Please we have 20

Minutes, I wanna see your tits bounce," Sirius said straight forward, he stared into your eyes with a pleading look. His bottom lip almost quivered as he gave you his famous puppy dog eyes. 

"Sure, but I don't wanna ride, you do the work," you say, getting off his lap as you fall against his bed. Sirius smiled, liking the new position as he started to undress himself quickly. 

He kissed you gently, his hands working to get rid of your skirt. He didn't even take off your underwear, pushing them aside as his fingers came against your soaking slit. 

"Your so wet baby, just from me playing with your tits?" Sirius teased, before lining his cock with your slit as he looked up towards your eyes. 

"Oh shush Sirius, you wanna fuck me or not?" You told him, annoyed that your breasts weren't getting any attention. The ache slowly came back, making you whine as you stared up at him. 

"May I?" He asked gently, the tip of his cock slowly pushing its way inside you. You deeply inhale, nodding your head as you hold right onto his shoulders. 

He pushes in slowly, not stopping before he's buried hilt deep inside you. You exhale, getting used to the feeling as you find his hands. You bring his hands to your chest, making a whimper as you feel him take them.

"God your so fucking pretty," Sirius said, his palm massaging your breast once again as you let out pleased moans. 

"I know," you winked at him, moving your hips as you guided him into moving. Sirius was absolutely awe-struck, his eyes wide as he fucked into you just right. 

Your back immediately arched when his cock found your sweet spot, making you cling onto his flesh as you pressed yourself against him. You felt the relief fill you again as Sirius's hands worked their way to massage the underside of your breast. You enjoyed it, glowing in the feeling of being completely pampered. 

"You like when I fuck you, don't you slut?" Sirius muttered loudly, his fingers hooking against your nipple as he gave them a generous tug. Your eyes opened quickly, breath catching in your throat. 

When you didn't answer right away, Sirius let his hand come down to slap against your tender breast. Making your skin jump as you let out a loud whimper, you heard him chuckle before massaging over the forming red spot. 

"I like when you fuck me, you make me feel so good," you praised him, feeling his hand ease up as he rolled your breast between his hands gently. You spread your legs wider, letting him hit every curve that was offered as your head fell against the pillow. 

"I know you do, such a good girl for my cock," Sirius praised back, smiling as he pulled his hands away before placing them onto the back of your thigh. 

He brought you closer, hips jerking into you as his cock filled you deep and hard. Your breath was uneven as you came closer to your high. 

Sirius watched your tits bounce with each thrust, the sight almost making him cum hard. He fucked you faster, thrust becoming uneven but godly. You were almost screaming at the pleasure, your hands grabbing anything you could find as your eyes shut tight. 

"Gonna cum against my cock?" Sirius asked, voice sweaty as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

"Oh fuck, please don't stop," moans were leaving your lips quickly, you couldn't even process what you were saying as euphoria washed over you. 

You felt him pull out, letting you take a moment to catch your breath. You opened your eyes, watching as Sirius continued to stare at your chest with a grateful expression. 

"You didn't cum," you told him, a bit of guilt washed over you before you saw his happy expression. 

"No, I will," he said, you gave him a confused expression. He couldn't possibly want to go again? You only have a few more minutes until class would start. 

"Can I fuck your titties please?" He asked, sending you a small smile as you only nodded. Sirius made a loud sound, he was incredibly happy that his dick would be buried into your chest. 

You slid onto your knees, his wooden floor felt hard against them but you couldn't care as you positioned your boobs against his cock. 

Sirius grabbed your hair, running it through his fingers as he let you take the lead. You bounced your breast against his cock, spitting against it to create more friction. 

The sight of you made Sirius almost cum, he didn't take long before he was groaning out his appreciation and white fluid coated your chest. 

You pulled back, your breast less swollen and tender as they lay covered in cum. Sirius watched for a moment, taking in the glory of the sight before him. 

"Your a fucking goddess," Sirius concluded, kissing your forehead before running off quickly to grab a towel. He cleaned you up swiftly, making sure to massage your breast between his hands to make sure they weren't still sore. 

"Do they feel alright, they don't look as swollen," Sirius asked, helping you into your clothes before putting on his own. 

"Yeah, they feel better. Thank you," you told him, kissing his lips while helping him buckle his belt. 

"Any time," Sirius winked, heading towards your next class.

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black smut #young sirius x reader #young sirius black #sirius black blurb #marauders smut #marauders #marauder #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter

[1mzie]

Euphoria

———————

Elliot & fem!reader

_____________

summary : Youre the new girl in East Highland High School (euphoria high), But you catch someone always staring at you. Elliot.. Not just Elliot…Him Jules and rue too. They wanna be your friend. Well rue and Jules do, Elliots thinking more differently (obviously in a good way).

TW: drugs,swearing,slight smut. 18+

——————————

It was the first day of school from new years break. Even though this was your first day in general, you wasn’t really scared. The only thing you was scared about was how you was going to look, seen as it was the first day you know a lot of people make a effort to look the best and that can get competitive. That’s exactly what you are. Competitive. You cannot let people look better than you, you have to be the eye of attention so you can let everyone think about you all day. You’ve never had this mindset before so youre pretty glad about the drugs you took this morning.

As you walk into school you were right, everyone is looking at you. Even the teachers which was weird..However you did spot a cute trio friendship group with 1 boy and 2 girls to be honest you was definitely thinking that they all fuck each other. Obviously youre not going to say that.

You go to your locker to put some stuff from your bag in there keeping your bag on you though seen as you have essentials in it..As you shut your locker door you see that trio right in front of your face. You was quite scared they could see every detail on your face but because of the drugs you didn’t give a shit.

“Hi, sorry didn’t mean to fright you” Jules said in a calm voice walking a bit more back to give you space. Elliot and rue do the same. “im Jules and this is Rue” pointing to the girl with curly hair. “And this is Elliot” pointing at the guy with bleach blonde curly hair with grown out roots.

“Woah, wow sorry im just a little bit out of the world right now and you speak fast, just trying to remember everything you said.” You replied itching your neck. Shit you panicked what if they don’t do drugs. “Do you guys do drugs?” i said bluntly.

“I do.” Rue replied as she smirked. “Jules doesn’t really do drugs she smokes though. And Elliot he definitely does drugs” rue said laughing. Elliot shot a look at Rue. Rue made a ‘what?’ face.

“Alright wanna go do some lines?” You said smirking.

Rue wanted to but obviously because she was with Jules she couldn’t. She shot me a look eyeing the toilets suggesting she will be there.

“Well Rue cant seen as shes only on weed at the moment but im sure you can ask Elliot right?” Jules said nudging Elliot as she saw him staring at your boobs.

“What? yeah sure huh?” Elliot said confused.

“Okay looks like its me and you Elliot” You said smiling.

“yeah” He replied with his heart beating fast giving Jules and Rue a nervous look as they were walking to lesson.

You grabbed his hand and walked around the school trying to find a storage cupboard to do some drugs in.

“You know instead of walking around the whole school nearly you could’ve asked me what you was looking for.” He replied chuckling noticing yours and his hands are still locked.

“Oh well i got to walk with you longer” You winked at him. Elliot blushed thinking it wasn’t noticeable.

Not long after that you found a unlocked cupboard and went straight inside, it wasn’t really big but it worked.

You did lines of coke taking turns making sure you got every single bit.You looked at each other with tension and heat building up as he came closer to you he put his soft hand on your neck and he whispered in your ear with his hot breath “nice white bra you’ve got on. It would look better on my bedroom floor.”

When he said that it sent tingles around every inch of your body. You pushed your thighs together and gulped. yeah you could admit it was quite corny but coming from his mouth it wasn’t.

He noticed and put his hand on your thighs. Lifting your skirt up and looking at you for consent, he started to brush his finger against your wet core over your panties you softly moaned in his ear which sent him to heaven. He got down on his knees and was moving your pants to the side about to eat you out until he heard the door clutch open and acted like he was tying your shoe laces.

“There you are, i thought i was meeting you at the toilets.” Rue said out of breath like she was running.

“Oh.. Yeah” Your voice cracked “Um yeah sorry i forgot.” you said sighing.

Elliot was tensed and gave Rue an annoyed look.

“What??” Rue said confused looking at Elliot.

Elliot shook his head and got up looking straight into your glossy eyes.

“Okay im gonna head to class now. I’ll see you guys later.” you smiled at them. That was really awkward.

“Bye” Elliot and Rue said at the same time.

“What was all that about?“ Rue said confused looking at Elliot.

“I was in the middle of doing something with her.” Elliot said annoyed.

“Like?” Rue was so spaced out she didn’t understand until she remembered that Elliot was on his knees with your skirt over his head. “OH.” Rue said with a shocked expression . “ Elliot im so sorry omg. Definitely got to tell Jules about this. well done Elliot.” Rue was clapping.

“Rue i didn’t get to even do anything because of you. You stormed in.” Elliot replied putting his hand on his face.

“Oh right” Rue said with a ‘oops’ face.

#euphoria #elliot euphoria #elliot x reader #reader insert #elliot smut #fezco euphoria #nate jacobs #rue bennett #jules euphoria

[pimp-shii]

18+

“It’s not like we’re a thing... let me have some fun”

> pronouns: she/her

> warnings: cursing, drug use, alcohol, sex.

Where a member of the misfits gets up to some fun for a night.

“What the fuck is this?”

Y/n questioned her wing-woman, Toby, who was currently holding a pretty revealing outfit for the night.

“Well... It’s a skirt and a top”

Toby answered, just managing to get the words out.

The day started off somewhat normal for the girl. Editing videos for her slowly dying channel, just like everyone else in the misfits. Ryan wanted to throw one of his signature parties this weekend, everyone was down for the idea except for Y/n.

She didn’t express her negativity toward the idea, she still wanted the group to have fun. She just doesn’t like being eyed off by all their other “friends” all night.

‘maybe tonight will be different’

she thought.

‘i’m gonna try and blow off some steam. maybe blow off some other things too’

Y/n mentally cursed herself for this.

And this takes us back to current time.

“Are you sure? I mean... it just looks like... you know what, i’m not even gonna say anything. Give it to me”

she politely snatched the outfit from Toby before walking into her bathroom.

“HURRY UP, Y/N. I WANT TO SEE WHOS HERE ALREADY”

Toby yelled through the walls.

As if on cue, Y/n entered the room.

“C’mon, you look so fucking good”

Y/n’s friend reassured her.

“Thanks, Tobes”

The girl sighed.

“...Fuck it.”

Y/n grabbed Toby by the hand and led her downstairs after throwing on some heels.

Wolf whistles, cheers and laughs erupted from the bottom of the pair as they descended the stairs. They both gave half-assed waves in response.

“Y/N COME DOWN HERE, CUNT”

Y/n smiled at the oh so familiar voice, making her way towards it.

“Hold on, Masey”

As she swerved through the crowd and made her way through the outside door, she felt eyes burning into her. Her eyes darted across from Eric, Matt and Mason who were sitting around a small glass table, bongs in hand.

“Is there something wrong with it?”

She referred to her outfit, rubbing her arm.

“uhhh”

Matt cleared his throat, trying not to let his eyes trail on to her body.

“yeah... no! You look really nice.”

The girl only smiled in response and took her place next to Eric.

“Wanna hit?”

He held the bong in her face.

“Will you light it for me?”

She asked with a toothy grin.

“Fuck yeah!”

After a quick sesh and so much fucking eye contact with Matt, Y/n stood up from her seat.

“Leaving so soon? Come and have a seat”

Mason jokingly patted his thigh.

“Hm”

She hummed, taking about 2 steps to get over to where Mason sat. Instead, Y/n grabbed Matt’s hand who was situated next to the Mase.

“Fuck you”

Mason laughed.

“You wish”

She pulled Matt into the kitchen, pushing the crowd (which seemed to have doubled over the short time she was getting high) out of the way. Leaving the two other boys confused.

Mason turned to Eric

“What do you think they’re doing?”

Eric let out a high giggle.

“Probably fucking. I remember Y/n telling me she gets turned on when she’s baked”

“I thought Cam and her were dating”

Mason scratched his head.

“I don’t think so. I mean, they haven’t told us about anything. Both of them are pretty open.”

They went quiet before hearing someone inside shout...

“BODY SHOTS”

The boys glanced at each other and fought to get inside again.

People gathered around the kitchen counter to find Y/n lying down.

“SALT FIRST, MATT”

Matt jokingly apologised and poured a line of salt down her abdomen.

As soon as he trickled a shot glass full of tequila down her stomach, Y/n giggled. Matt put a slice of lime in her mouth to sincerely shut her up.

Mason scouted the room for Cameron, to his surprise Cam was cheering Y/n and Matt on. Weird.

Cheers erupted as Matt licked the tequila and salt, trailing up to Y/n’s chest as he did. He left before his face could reach in between her tits. She let out an “aw” sound.

Moments before Matt could bite the lime from the girls mouth, she grabbed it out of the way and pushed her lips onto his.

Cheers were twice as loud and most people started whistling. However, Cameron’s expression changed. He didn’t mind that she was having fun, he was happy for her that she was getting out. But he felt a pang of jealousy. Cameron and Y/n liked each other, it was pretty obvious. He just didn’t know why they weren’t together. It was clear that she didn’t have feelings for the other boys (and girl), so why was she acting like this?

Matt hummed into the kiss as Y/n pulled away. She jumped off of the table and took a quick swig out of the tequila bottle that was placed next to her. This wasn’t her brightest idea, seems though her throat felt like it was on fire without a chaser. She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head as it went a down.

“WOO!”

She shouted.

The crowd followed after and clapped for the scene. She did a twirling hand gesture to which everyone followed and went back to their previous activities. Matt disappeared. Y/n was on her way back outside, to roll a joint they guess, when someone pulled her into them.

“ooh. Cam?”

“Can we talk, Y/n”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows and frowned. She knew Cameron was upset with her, she was just confused as to why.

“uhh yeah. What’s up? Was it the kiss?”

Cameron huffed.

“You’re not acting like you. I don’t know. I guess i’m just jealous or uptight. We both know we have feelings for each other. Is it because of commitment? Fuck... I guess I’m fine with an open relationship”

Y/n giggled and swung her arms around his neck.

“I really do like you. But...

it’s not like we’re a thing. Let me have some fun”

She rubbed the back of his neck with her thumbs and stood on her toes to give him a quick peck. He tried pushing into the kiss, but she quickly pulled back.

“Aw. Cmon, Y/n. Plus... watching you right there kinda turned me on”

“Oh really?”

She smirked

“Meet me in my room in about an hour, Cammy?

She turned away after Cameron gave her ass a small tap. She finally retreated to her favourite place... outside. She stopped dead in her tracks after noticing that another two new girls sat where Matt originally was (before the body shots).

“Where’s Matt?”

She turned to Eric

“Probably jacking off. We saw what you did to him”

The man laughed while toking on a newly rolled joint, still in his chain mail. She pulled a seat right next Eric, seems though the other girls (which were currently feeling Mason up) left her no other choice. Y/n chuckled a bit to herself whilst watching Mason be abused by these girls. He gave her a couple of worried looks. Practically begging for her help.

“I think he needs your help, man”

Eric put his arm around her shoulder. Y/n leaned into him, sighing.

“But it’s just so funny... fine”

“Macey...”

She started.

“Could you pack me a cone please, love~”

Mason quickly wriggled out of the girls touch and grabbed the bong. Y/n watched his fingers as they worked the cone piece and ouid.

“All done, ma’am”

He held out the bong for her, but she declined and climbed over to him. She slowly made her way onto his lap, the other women smiled at her but eventually moving away. Leaving room for new people to come out.

“Wow. You really out did yourself here, Mace”

Masons eyes widened at the touch, but he complied and held the glass sculpture up to her lips. She grabbed a small lighter from the table in front of them. Holding it up to the cone piece as her fingers warm up from it.

“Only the best for you, madam”

The rest of the chop quickly filtered through to the water in the bong. Mason, quick to take the cone piece from the bong, letting the air go through it. Y/n lifted her lips from the glass, but held the smoke in her lungs for a couple of seconds. Before the smoke could escape from her lips, she faced Mason and blew some smoke his way.

“fuck”

“fuck”

The two boys said in almost unison. Leaving Y/n giggling to herself. Moving around on her ‘friends’ lap to put the bong in the table.

“What’s the time, E?”

Y/n asked. Remembering that she had places to be and people to fuck.

“Uhhh. Not sure”

Mason dragged his arms around Y/n’s waist and pulled her back into him.

“...that’s uhhh pretty strange question to be asking at a party, Y/n.”

He laughed to himself.

“Who is it this time?”

Mason finished.

She slapped his hands that currently rested in her lap, making the retreat from her body.

“I got to go. Wanna toke up around the pool later?”

Mason and Eric nodded in agreement before Y/n got up and walked away.

Mason looked down to where Y/n was situated only to see a bulge. He quickly covered it with both of his hands (making it way more obvious than it already was) before anymore people could notice.

“Got a bit of a problem there, bud?”

Eric and someone else asked.

“Shutup. I have things to do too.”

>

>

>

Y/n dodged the men trying to approach her on her quest to find Cameron. There. She spotted him talking to a group of boys and Pokimane. Poki constantly feeling Cam. Y/n felt bad that she had to snatch him away from her, but the space between her legs was getting hotter and hotter each second.

“Hiii”

Y/n said as she approached the group.

“Oh there you are. We were just talking about you.”

Cameron looked down at you.

You gave the group a questioning look.

“Oh. What about?”

Before the group could get awkward, Poki interrupted.

“Just about the thing with you and Matt. It was quite a scene.”

She giggled.

“If i’m being honest, I wished that was me up there”

Someone added in.

“Ahah very funny. Did you want me, Y/n?”

Cameron gave her a smirk.

“Ah yeah, about that. Can i talk to you for a moment?”

>

>

>

“Cammy- slow down”

Y/n said between moans.

His attack on her neck wasn’t slowing down anytime soon. His tongue swirled and sucked on her neck, getting closer and closer to her sweet spot. occasional nips here and there. Cameron guided Y/n to her bed, leaving her to lay there.

He slipped off his plaid button up and black tee that resided under it, approaching Y/n once again. This time he positioned himself on his knees and pulled up the skirt the girl was wearing, leaving it to rest on her hips.

“Can i rip these?”

Cameron asked, pointing to her fishnets that were underneath.

“...I just thought you’d look really sexy if I was fucking you in fishnets and a skirt”

Y/n giggled at his comment and nodded her head, waiting for the sound of fabric tearing.

He went to kiss her inner thighs, this time they were sweet and soft. Every time his lips would meet her skin, they’d inch closer and closer to her core.

Finally, his lips met hers. Cameron licked a wet stripe up her cunt, making her shiver and moan out.

“fuck, Cam”

“Do you like that?”

He chuckled.

Cameron’s thumb rubbed circles on Y/n’s clit whilst he was eating her out. His short beard tickling the sides of her thighs. She couldn’t help herself, but to be thrown over the edge. Y/n’s hand reached for Cams hair, sometimes tugging at it. He hummed in satisfaction when her legs started to quiver.

He pulled his lips away and climbed on top of the girl. Leaning down to kiss her other pair. Y/n got up and leaned against the headboard, taking her small top off along with her bra. Cameron stared at her tits, it’s not like he hasn’t seen them before he just liked them.

He moved towards her chest, his hand almost coming on contact with them, but Y/n slapped them away.

“My turn”

She smiled.

They swapped places, this time Y/n being the one to go down on Cameron. He adjusted him self amongst the pillow and the headboard so Y/n could have better access.

She left kisses down his chest as she made her way to his infamous ripped jeans. She unbuckled them with her (kind of) newly manicured nails. Pulling his fly down with her teeth, not breaking eye contact.

This was pretty cliché, but Cameron felt himself grow harder at the sight.

“You have no clue what you’re doing to me, Y/n. Shit”

“By the looks of things, I can probably tell”

The man helped kick his jeans off, leaving him in nothing but a pair of boxers. The sight of his growing cock made Y/n gulp. She pulled down the boxers, dodging the thing that was about to spring out.

Y/n took it in her hands and slowly started to pump it up and down. Her e/c eyes burning holes into her friend’s own. She arched her back down, causing the end of her skirt to travel up her hips, and licked his slit. Cameron slightly jolted at the touch, raising his hand to run through his hair.

Y/n’s tongue did wonders to the man. Sometimes grazing her teeth along his shaft just to annoy him. Precum glazed the top of her tongue and lips, leaving beads of spit to roll down Cams cock. His breaths became more harsh, his hand went to her hair putting it up into a makeshift ponytail in his fist. As hard as he tried not to guide her, his hand did it anyway.

“aah-uh. Y/n Y/n stop. I’m gonna cum”

Cameron whimpered

She pulled away and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“Come here. I want to see you ride me in that”

He adjusted himself, so he was just laying down with some pillows for neck support. Y/n crawled over him and sat on his length, just grinding on him. Causing Cam to grab her hips, pushing her down even more.

“aw Cam. I wanna fuck you so bad”

“I know. I know. Come here.”

Y/n stood on her knees so Cam could put himself directly under her.

“You ready, baby?”

The girl bit her lip and looked at the ceiling, bracing herself as his tip slid alongs her cunt.

“mmhm”

Cameron slipped it in, earning a groan from both of them. Y/n had to make Cam stay still for about a minute or so before she could start moving.

As soon as she started bouncing or even just grinding on him, Cameron had to resist the urge to push her onto him once again. Forcing his hands above his head. Y/n’s tits bounced with her which left Cam in awe. Arching his back in just the right way so he could suck and pinch on her nipples.

Y/n’s back arched as he constantly hit her G-spot. Euphoric moans and noises coming from her mouth as they fucked. Pheromones and lewd sounds filling the room.

“fu-uck. I’m gonna cum if you keep doin that”

Y/n cried out.

Cameron’s hips automatically bucked with hers. He flipped the two over and took matters into his own hands. Thrusting quickly, but sloppy, leaving Y/n in pure ecstasy.

“I’m gonna cum, Y/n”

“mmhm. me too”

The girls eyebrows furrowed as she felt herself become undone, except for the knot in for stomach that kept getting tighter and tighter before finally releasing with Cameron’s.

“FUCK ME”

Cameron grunted as he came on her chest.

He would’ve collapsed on her if she didn’t move out of the way in such a hurry. They lied there, on messy bedsheets.

“I’ll clean up”

Cam shot up from his position leaving Y/n with no choice but to get up too. She tried fixing up her hair before feeling something warm in her hair.

“fuck dude. you got cum in my hair, man”

she sighed

“brush it out as Mia Malkova would say”

Cam replied.

“I said i’d go swimming with Mason and Eric. I’ll clean up with you next time, baby”

She laughed.

>

>

>

“Took you long enough!”

Eric shouted from the pool.

“Sorry I was busy”

“We heard”

Mason chipped in.

“But where are your swimmers?”

they asked.

“Fuck. I was in a hurry. Oh well”

Y/n began undressing, leaving herself in a lace bra and some nice underwear she threw on before.

“oh y/n”

#goodguyfitz #misfits #inotorious #zuckles #masonbradford #smut #tobyonthetele #mccreamy #lemon #lime #this is so scuffed

[maidenvault]

please talk more about the weird psychosexual vibes in The Batman because I felt troubled by some of it but it also felt hot?

Oh my God, so. I’d say what makes it work despite having an uncomfortable dynamic at parts is that Selina’s the one who is so transparently into him and always initiating it when they kiss. The way her eyes roam up and down him when they first look at each other and again later when she says “I have a thing about strays”...LOL he doesn’t know what to do with this!! And that line says so much about how she instinctively recognizes another damaged person who has been deprived of so much and hides it, who has reasons for all of his giant flaws, which has to be largely what draws them to each other. I love that it’s never commented on by either of them that they’re both dressed up like weirdos. They’ve both been hurt badly enough to leave any sense of normalcy behind in some single-minded pursuit that skirts the law, and it doesn’t need comment or explanation because they both get it.

And it’s such a testament to Pattinson’s performance that you buy her attraction to him even though she never sees his face. It’s unbelievable how expressive he manages to be with the cowl on. His eyes soften so much when he looks at her closely. This is such a unique and strange portrayal of Batman, the more he acts hard and impassive the more this weird vulnerability seems to come through. He’s so repressed and locked inside himself. How can she resist?

It also definitely helps, at least for me, that I think the relationship is supposed to be troubling and there is a purpose to that. There are a lot of parallels between Batman and the Riddler in this movie, and this Riddler is clearly a representation of the gross, radicalized 8chan incel type. When he describes how Bruce grew up safely removed from the common people’s problems and just watching them from his tower, it’s more apt than he could know because Batman has made a whole damn thing out of studying people from a distance and uses his own technology to survey and record them. His detachment from the world around him and resulting bad social skills definitely includes not relating to women very well. He pressures Selina into situations she’s not fully comfortable with, and so stupidly can’t see her discomfort when Falcone talks to her. He watches her changing through her window, obviously not for pervy reasons and really not seeing much compared to what she was wearing before but DUDE NO. (I think it’s interesting, though, that once he’s made himself known to her and wants her to cooperate with him he lets her know right off the bat how long he’s been following her and that he was watching her at her place, by saying something regarding Annika like “She did seem upset.”)

I feel like I have to talk about an interpretation I’ve only recently come across, that what Bruce is really freaking out about re: her knowing Falcone is the possibility that she is OMG a sex worker!! And that the twist about him being her father disappointingly lets him off the hook for his non-empathetic attitude about that. If that is actually what’s intended without the film more clearly saying it (ridiculously, it's trying to not be completely inappropriate for children), then indeed that is exceedingly gross and ugly and can’t really be excused, just adamantly ignored as subtext.

I really don’t think that’s what’s going on, though? He knows Selina didn’t work in the 44 Below like Annika, she isn’t recognized there. When Bruce starts obsessing over whether she might have slept with Falcone, to me it’s clear he’s imagining something more personal than the transactional and coercive situation of being an escort for dangerous men like this, hence the judgment. The fact that the latter, much darker possibility doesn’t even seem to occur to him probably further shows his privilege and cluelessness about women’s experience, and maybe that should have been addressed somehow. But it just seems absurd to think when he’s obsessively replaying the footage of her talking about Falcone, he’s disgustedly imagining that she’s *gasp* been paid for sex. That’s so uninteresting and cartoonishly puritanical it’s hard for me to give this otherwise really good screenplay that little credit. It’s more than that, Bruce is trying to figure out what her deal is and if she’s even a trustworthy person. She doesn’t seem like someone who’d be messing with a place like the Iceberg Lounge out of desperation; she’s a skilled cat burglar and there’s clearly more to her than she’s told him. Bruce is unforgiving of weakness in himself and he is very attracted to Selina despite not being sure he can trust her, so he’s really unfair in judging her based on what information he has as if this can guard him from being femme-fataled. Yeah, it’s sexism. But hopefully not that level of sexism.

After she gets the cash, his ultimate conclusion before she tells him the truth is that she got close to the mob to steal from them. It’s money earned by destroying lives which as far as he can see she took for purely self-serving reasons, and he hoped there was more to her than this. That this was apparently her motivation for associating with such terrible people, selling drugs in the club and who knows what else, is disappointing. It’s definitely a bunch of bullshit how judgmentally he confronts her about it (she just found her girlfriend dead in a trunk, you could at least just ghost her if you don’t like her anymore like a normal person but nooo).

So yeah, Bruce treats her in a fucked up way through some of this movie. But she calls him out on his privileged way of thinking and shows him that other people’s lives and choices can be much more complicated than his have ever been. And honestly, I’m not sure that their connection evolves to much more than sexual attraction until the moment he stops her from killing Falcone. Earlier when he gives her the “Then you’re no better than him” line he is as usual applying to everyone else the rigid moral standard he holds himself to as if he’s just like everyone else (and projecting like hell since he’s just learned how one mistake of his father would have tainted all the good he ever could have done from that point on if he was able to continue a political career). But later he’s empathizing with her, actually meaningfully reaching out to her as someone who is also traumatized, because he cares and killing her own father isn’t something he wants her to carry.

(Then of course not long after she was just strangled by her own dad, she gets attacked by redpilled guy #7 and Bruce very nearly crosses that line himself by fucking murdering the guy and it's maybe the most fucked up and sexy thing in the movie. Put me in jail.)

#batcat #the batman #selina kyle #catwoman #asks #my meta #the goddamn batman #dc #the batman meta

[silverdelirium]

So it's like this Fluffy fic where we lose our virginity to Draco

GODDESS | D.M

summary: soft!draco taking your virginity

warnings: corruption kink?, loss of v card, soft sex.

———

you didn’t know if it was the way he was running his hands down your hair all the way to your back or just the thought of being so close to him that had gotten you like this.

and it seemed like a scratch you couldn’t seem to reach no matter how much you squirmed in an attempt to get rid of it. draco, your boyfriend of 2 months now, took notice of it, growing concerned that you might be hurt.

“baby, you alright?” he piped in a soft yet concerned tone.

“i don’t know- my stomach is feeling weird.”

draco shot up at that, cursing himself internally for not doing anything sooner. you squealed at the sudden movement, since you were laying on his chest, he brought you up with him.

he turned you by your waist so you were straddling him. his eyes searching your face and body for any type of bigger pain. “what does it feel like, love? tell me. i’ll get someone to bring you something” he soothed, trying his best to keep you happy.

“i-” you cut yourself off with a sigh, looking down at his hands that were settled innocently on your thighs, your breath hitching. “it feels all fluttery and tingly right here.” you mumbled, rubbing your lower belly.

oh, thought draco. his dick perked up at this in his trousers. he gave a mere chuckle and said, “darling... i can relieve that. but i have a question to ask first.”

you beamed and nodded at him to continue.

“has somebody ever touched you here before?” he asked before cupping your clothed cunt. the material soaked. you gasped at this, the feeling unfamiliar, you weren’t even aware that you were... wet. you obviously knew what happened when someone gets aroused, but it had never crossed your mind fully. too caught up in schoolwork and the people around you, you never got some time to give yourself some time. draco knew this and made it his mission to help you relax in your own thoughts when you started dating.

“i- no.” you admitted shyly. face heating up by the second. “baby, look at me.” he demanded, tone still soft, he let go of your sex and brought his hands to your cheeks instead, making you look at him. “is this okay with you? will you let me help you feel good?”

you wanted this. of course you did, but... what if you didn’t meet his expectations? you never did this before and according to what you’ve heard it could’ve made you bleed, people say it hurt! you didn’t want that for draco or yourself for that matter.

“i just- what if i’m not exactly what you expect me to be draco? what if it doesn’t feel good?”

“are you asking if it won’t feel good for me or for you? because i assure you that the sight of you alone could bring me more pleasure than anything in the world” he replied, tone now a bit harsher, almost offended that you thought of yourself that way. yes, draco had done things before but they didn’t mean shit to him. he could go his entire life without any sexual relief if it meant you were pleased.

“both” you muttered, head dropping down in embarrassment.

“sweetheart, if you really want to do this, let’s do it. i’ll be with you every second of it and if you’re not ready then i could wait a lifetime for you.” said draco, once again grabbing your face and bringing it up to his eyes. heart swelling at the mere sight of you.

you looked into his eyes and saw nothing but sincerity in them. so you gave it no more thought and nodded with a small smile. making him smile back at you and delivering a sweet kiss on your forehead before traveling down to your lips.

and as you continuously made out, he flipped you both over and laid you down on the soft pillows of his bed. disconnecting his lips from yours to kiss down your heck, sucking gently enough to leave hues of a light purple on your neck.

he tugged at your sweatshirt and broke contact with your neck. “y/n, are you completely sure?” he asked, needing to hear you say that you were okay with this.

you nodded, desperate to get on with it. “i want words my love” he demanded, yet the soft tone not breaking and gave your waist a reassuring squeeze. “yes draco” you whispered in a breathy tone. draco gave you a small smile and kissed your forehead as he lifted your shirt up, chucking it behind him once it was completely off, he sat down on his knees and took off his shirt too, as to give you some type of calm.

he swallowed hard and tried not to immediately dive in between your breasts but instead leaned down and kissed you passionately while he took of your skirt. you finished kicking it off your feet and broke the kiss for a moment to take a breath. and at the same time you saw draco look down at his girl in only your underwear. you gave herself a pat in the back for choosing a nice set for today. his eyes were blacked out with lust, pupils dilated more than ever. you was shaped like a greek goddess in draco’s eyes and he was willing to fight anyone who thought otherwise.

“sweet merlin” he breathed out. his trousers straining now more than ever. but he knew how to control himself, for you.

he lifted his gaze up to his girlfriend’s gaze and saw how her expression was more flushed than usual around him. he leaned back down to pepper kisses on her chest, reaching behind her back which she slightly arched, giving him the consent to unclasp her bra. and he did with a few fumblings here and there.

draco pulled back a little to get a good view of her bare breasts and jesus-

she truly was a goddess.

“baby you are so damn gorgeous, i’m the luckiest man alive” he mumbled, massaging gently her tits and giving the nipples experimental kisses, which were rewarded by sweet whimpers and heavy breaths of y/n.

“can- can i take them off pretty girl?” he asked, hands at the waistband of her panties. “yes, take them off please”

he got them down slowly, throwing the soaked material at the sight. and draco was sure he could’ve easily just came right then and there, but this was about y/n, not him.

“my god, baby” he grunted as she spread her legs lightly, craving those praises. he could now fully see her naked body, pretty tits, gorgeous figure and dripping pussy, all for himself.

he caught her lips with his as his hands went from playing with her soft breasts to travel down to her heat. her breath hitched as he got closer, yet managed to continue to make out with him, his tongue lovingly exploring her mouth.

and as he finally reached the place she needed him the most, he pulled away from the kiss and leaned down to suck on her nipples, making her release a soft moan as she ran his hair in her hands. his hands found her clit easily and drew gentle figure eights on it, her legs spreading wider and a firm moan passed her lips, making him almost pop out of the coffins of his pants.

“shit dray- just like that” she moaned out as his pointer finger continued playing a bit faster with her clit and his middle went lower to tease at her entrance, his fingers now covered in her juices. he slowly inserted his middle finger inside her, grunting lowly at the tightness.

“ah! yes draco fuck!” she cried out when he started to move it inside and out repeatedly, increasing the speed by the second, his pointer finger now joining the middle one slowly as his thumb took over the stimulation on her clit. “i- dray my stomach-”

he detached his mouth from her tits and looked up at her. she looked absolutely flawless, mouth agape and pretty sounds escaping it, eyes slightly hazed and brows furrowed.

“cum sweetheart, let it go for me” he rasped out. and she came without hesitation, all over his fingers, drenching them on her arousal.

y/n was brought back to reality from the state of bliss to the feeling of her boyfriend peppering kisses on her cheek, trailing down to her collarbone. “how was that my love?” he asked, voice laced with adoration. “i-it was good”

“you did a great job baby”

“dray i- i want to go all the way please” she admitted, tone slightly laced with nervousness. “are you sure princess, you know i can wait.” he said, moving to press a kiss on her forehead while massaging her side with his other hand.

“i’m- i’m sure draco please” she pleaded, moving to grip the hem of his pants, doe eyes staring up at him.

“your wish is my command” he smirked, tossing his pants off.

he positioned himself on top of her again, his hands on either side of her face, her legs were tightly closed, the anxiousness of not being enough for him slowly coming back.

“can you spread this pretty legs for me baby?” he questioned, one of his hands coming down to massage her thighs. “i- draco.” she said, voice slightly shaky.

draco took notice of this and removed his arms from beside her, instead sitting up on his knees, grabbing hers and placing a kiss on them. “what’s wrong baby, do you want me to stop?” his tone full of concern.

“what do i do if it hurts?” she asked, fumbling with the bed sheets under her with a cute frown on her face, not meeting his eyes. “baby i’ll be gentle. i’ll never hurt you you know that.” he stated.

she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts together. “you know what. yes, let’s do it, just be gentle please”.

“of course my love” he said before reaching for her hands and interlacing them together and once again bringing them to the side of her head.

y/n spread her legs wide enough for him to fit in, his painfully erect cock now in line with her opening, twitching slightly.

draco reached in between them and took his cock, pushing it inside her tight cunt slightly, she gasped at the stretch. he looked up and she gave a reassuring nod, draco pushed in more and watched as her back slightly arched. once he was further inside she released a small whimper, the first tear falling, yet she brought him down by his neck, smashing their lips together.

“move” she mumbled out between kisses, but he heard her clearly, moving in and out slowly, she gasped at this and bucked her hips up. the pleasure increasing every time he moved. subsiding the pain.

he then found a rythm and started to thrust into her gently, yet enough to pleasure them both immensely.

“dray-” she moaned out. “that’s right baby, say my name.” he grunted, eyes greadily watching her face contorting into pleasure. she moaned louder when he reached for her clit, amplifying the pleasure, her legs slightly shaking. “fuck yes, just like that!” she whimpered, back arching when she felt that bubbling sensation close again.

he gave a moan of his when her walls clenched around him. with the sight of before imprinted in his mind and the feeling of now, he wasn’t gonna hold much longer. “shit- are you close my pretty girl? gonna cum on my cock?” he asked seductively. she gave a weak mhm, not trusting her mouth to give a coherent answer. “then cum baby, wanna see you fall apart for me” he rasped out.

she came for the second time that night with a loud cry of his name. him following behind as he quickly pulled out. still stimulating her clit to ride out her high. he quickly came on her stomach at the mere sight of y/n cumming.

once they both climbed down from their high, he landed beside her, breathing heavily. but quickly recollecting himself and reaching for y/n, carrying her to the bathroom as he peppered kisses on her head.

he sat her down on the toilet so he could fill up the bath.

he sat her down on the tub, him behind her.

“you did amazing baby” he murmured in her ear as she collected the bubbles. her face heated up as she mumbled a thanks.

“once we clean you up we can go eat whatever you want and then cuddle for the whole day, hm?”

“yeah” she chuckled, face still heated up as he massaged her scalp with some shampoo, pressing kisses in her shoulder every now and then.

“my goddess” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek against her head.

———

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @helleli @harrystellastyles @metaraxia @daddybutmakeitagirl (message me if i missed you)

taglist can be found on here!

#draco malfoy story #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco x y/n

[snackhobi]

a human touch, part I

Part [1] / 1.5 / 2

(masterlist here)

pairing: taehyung x f!reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: robot!taehyung/virgin!reader, fluff, future smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: everyone knows that androids don’t think, or feel, or have emotions. they’re not human, after all. so when a two hour session with a sex android ends up with nothing more than a nice conversation, you think that’s the first and last time you’ll see v. 

then he turns up at your door. 

warnings: talk of sex work (taehyung is a sex android), implied physical harassment (mentions of bruising), cursing/explicit language, mentions of alcohol, honestly this is a lot softer than these warnings would make you think I swear 🤧

a/n: I started writing this fic like 2/3 months ago and then put it on hiatus bc god it was kicking my entire ass. but ya girl is finally back to working on it! it’ll be two parts, because this fic is a big one! I hope to have the next chapter out next week/the week after (but no promises kdsflkfdfsdf) thank you @hobi-gif​ for loving this fic so wholeheartedly and supporting me while I struggled with it, queen shit ONLY. note: this is loosely a detroit: become human au but you don’t have to be familiar with it at all!

Here are the three things you know about the Eden Club.

One: it’s a sex club. Everyone knows that. Besides, even if they didn’t, all it would take is a single look—the soft blue lighting that shines out from the windows, the screens behind the glass that flash images of shifting and undulating bodies, the heavy beat of music that pulsates from the building and out into the night air; everything murmurs of the promised pleasures that are held within. 

Two: it’s a sex club entirely staffed by androids. Androids make better lovers, according to the ads. They might look human but they don’t have free will like you do—anything you ask for, you’re given without question or reproach. They can’t say no to you. They’re entirely at your command.

Three: you don’t ever want to go to the Eden Club. It’s not that you have anything against androids—because you don’t—but you feel bad for the ones who are owned by the club, even if they’re literally only built and programmed to serve humans. It just feels… wrong.

And here’s the fourth thing you’ve just learned about the club, much to your dismay: you are about to head inside it.

“When you said we were going to a club, I thought we were going dancing,” you whine. “I never would have come out if I’d know you meant here.”

You’ve been staring up at the cursive pink neon sign for a while now, the looping letters of Eden Club shining out in the dark evening air, and you really, really wish you weren’t here. You’ve dressed for a night of dancing and drinking and now you feel woefully uncomfortable, your high heels and short skirt almost as scandalous as the outfits the androids are wearing when they slide across the huge screens.

“That’s why we didn’t tell you which club it was.” Seulgi rolls her eyes and once again tries to tug you towards the building with the arm that’s looped with your own. Just out of arm’s reach, Irene holds your bag hostage. “Come on, your session is going to start soon!”

“My session?” Your voice is an incredulous shrill and Seulgi uses the momentary distraction to finally pull you forward. You stumble a little but catch your balance just as you make your way past the bouncer, who’s been watching the three of you impassively since you got here. “What do you mean, my session?”

“For your birthday, duh. We booked you a private room!”

The inside has the same, sleek neon aesthetic as the outside, but instead of images of androids on a screen, these ones are real and standing in front of you—swinging themselves around glowing poles, rolling their hips and swaying their bodies, while others wait patiently in glass pods that line the walls, leaning towards onlookers and moving as tantalisingly as possible. All ready to be rented at a whim.

Their designs are varied and different but they’re all incredibly beautiful. The only feature they all share is the small, blue LED circle on the side of their temple, light spinning and shining as they take the world in around them. A visual reminder to the world that these aren’t flesh and blood humans: they’re synthetic, man-made machines.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life.” You desperately try to avoid the eyes of a nearby android who’s staring at you from behind glass, trying to subtly catch your attention. Unlike you, though, all the other patrons here are shameless in their perusal, scanning the selection of androids on display and watching as they dance and move and bat their eyelashes. “Why did you ever think I’d want to come to a sex club for my birthday?”

“Remember Valentine’s Day? You said that instead of flowers or chocolate you’d rather just be dicked down,” Irene says. “Besides, you’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling for as long as we’ve known you, and you moved to the company, what… three years ago?”

Your smile is pained. You’ve never been in a relationship or had a fling full stop; you’ve only kissed a few people and that’s it. It makes you feel awkward and embarrassed, and you’ve gotten Very Good at avoiding questions about your complete lack of a love life, so no one realises exactly how inexperienced you are. People just assume that you’ve had sex in the past and you make no attempts at correcting them. You’re charismatic and pretty but you’ve just… never met someone who you’ve really been compatible with.

Even without the reservations you have about the Eden Club, you don’t want your first time to be with a sexbot—you’d at least like to have an emotional connection, you know?

“I was joking about getting dicked down! You laughed, I laughed, we all laughed! Remember?” You move so a pink-haired android can brush past, her hips swaying as she leads a customer into a side room. You catch a flash of the interior before the door slides shut behind them—the silken sheets on the large bed, the scattered pillows, the dim multi-coloured lights. “Couldn’t you have just bought me some socks? Or some soap? Get a refund and put the money on a gift card and I’ll buy myself the aforementioned socks and soap, saves you both the hassle. Please?”

Seulgi’s arm is still locked with your own, and for all that she looks small and slim, her grip is as strong as iron. You may as well be handcuffed to her. “Trust me, you’ll be singing our praises at the end of tonight,” she proclaims. “Besides, they don’t do refunds.”

You sigh. You might not know much about the club but you do know it’s expensive. The androids here are built to be the perfect sexual partner, all sorts of bells and whistles hidden under their synthetic skin to bring you to the absolute heights of pleasure, so they’re not exactly cheap to build or buy or maintain. It’s why people come to the club instead of just buying their own sexbots—because it’s infinitely more affordable.

“Okay, I can accept the ‘no refund’ thing,” you say. “But can’t one of you take my place instead? I… ah. I feel kind of weird about this.”

“Don’t worry Y/n, it’s fine! The androids have programmes for everything. You can take it as fast or as slow as you like.” Irene’s voice is soothing but then she pauses. “Also it’s booked in your name so we can’t take your place.”

“Wait, what?” Your eyes are wide. However, before you can put a voice to the complaints that are lining themselves up on your tongue, Seulgi’s arm slides out of your own so she can beckon someone over. 

“Oh, look, it’s the android we chose for you! Over here!”

You glance away from Irene and all protestations instantly die on your lips. The lighting of the club softens the android in shades of magenta and teal but even so his beauty is bright and blinding: he’s breathtaking, from his perfect nose to his perfect mouth to the perfect line of his jaw, dusty brown hair deliciously tousled as it hangs just over his piercing blue eyes, which you notice are scanning over you. He looks effortlessly attractive and yet entirely put together at the same time, almost ethereal in his beauty.

No human could ever look this good.

“Hi.” His voice is low and deep, but somehow warm and friendly; despite your nerves you feel somewhat soothed. “Are you the lucky birthday girl?”

Irene and Seulgi both look giddy. You’ve been stunned into silence, unable to respond. Unlike the other androids you’ve seen so far, who’ve all been in similar variations of underwear or lingerie, the man in front of you is fully dressed, a loose metallic button-down tucked into unnecessarily tight leather jeans—the outfit has clearly been curated for the club, every reflective surface shimmering and refracting the lights that skate across their surface. The glittering scales of a barracuda before it moves in to strike and swallow you whole.

“Yes, yes, it’s her! This is Y/n! Y/n, this is V,” Irene gushes as you remain mute. "Do you like his outfit? We spent ages picking it out.”

You kind of want to die. Just a little. “Yep. It’s, uh, great.” Your mouth is dry when you finally speak. “Hi, V.”

V gives you a small smile. “Hello Y/n. Can I scan your ID, please?”

Irene finally hands your bag back and you silently slide your ID out and into V’s hand—oh, God, those are some big hands. Jesus.

The small LED ring on the side of V’s forehead pulses yellow as his eyes dart over the information on your ID card (as well as the incredibly unflattering photo on it) before it returns to its customary pale blue. “Perfect.”

You’ve just finished putting your ID away when V’s hand slides into yours, fingers slotting between your own; they feel cool against your overheated skin. Your nervousness is obvious, from your wide eyes to your sudden stiffness, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll look after you.”

You give Irene and Seulgi one final, wide-eyed look as V leads you away. Both girls are grinning as they wave goodbye. “We'll be back later! Enjoy your two hours!”

“Two hours?” You wheeze, but then you walk around a pillar and slide out of sight. 

V is leading you deeper into the club, past doors flooded with different shades of neon: the red room, the blue room, the pink room. You’d normally be gawping at the interior design, how the floor shines underneath your feet and how the walls are rippling with colour and shifting shapes, how the criss-crossed lights throw dots and lines of colour over your skin as you pass through each doorway—but you can’t look away from how small your hand looks in V’s, transfixed by how real his skin feels.

“After you, please,” he says.

You finally wrench your eyes away from your joint hands. Seems like you have the purple room tonight. The door has opened at V’s touch, and when you step inside the lights flicker to life—white and violet LEDs that paint the room in chiaroscuro brushstrokes, deepening the shadows and highlighting the vibrancy of the satin sheets.

“Woah,” you say, momentarily distracted. You’re too busy taking in the details with wide eyes to notice the quiet hum of the door sliding shut behind you, pausing when you spot the glittering array of bottles lined up on a mini-bar against the wall. “This is really pretty, wow.”

“Not as pretty as you.”

You jump at the sensation of a warm, large hand sliding up the skin of your back and over your shoulder. You meep as you instinctively shy away from it, turning around to come face to face with V, who’s dark-eyed and intent, LED on his temple pulsating as he watches you.

“Haha! Uh, thanks?” Your voice is high and only grows higher when V takes a step forward. He must have undone the top buttons of his shirt when you weren’t looking, because the material has fallen open and you can see far more of his collarbones and chest than before, his skin warm and honeyed, like it’s been impressed with gold leaf. Lord have mercy on your soul. “How about a drink? Would you like a drink? I could kill for some water right now!”

You slip out of his reach and scuttle over to the mini-bar, shrugging your small bag off your shoulder so it doesn’t swing into the glasses as you start to shuffle through them. You try to ignore the shaking of your hands. “Gin, vodka, whiskey,” you mutter. “No water? Really?”

You startle again when V appears at your side, but this time he’s careful to make sure you can see him before he touches you. He slides his fingers over your wrist as he gently pulls your hand off a bottle of rum.

“Y/n,” he says. You glance away from the tray of drinks and directly into those beautiful eyes of his—his gaze is lethal. You go weak at the knees. “Let me take care of you, gorgeous.”

The peal of laughter you let out is uncomfortable and high-pitched. “No, really, I’m fine! I’m just super thirsty right now!”

“Your heart is racing.” V turns your hand over and traces his fingers across the pulse in your wrist; androids can be built to be hypersensitive to the world around them, able to perceive everything in an instant, and you know that sexbots will have been designed to read how aroused their human owners are. Which V proves with the next words out of his mouth. “Your blood pressure is rising, your breathing is growing faster, your pupils are dilating and—” he sniffs lightly, engaging his olfactory senses—“you’re getting wet.”

You clamp your legs together, abruptly embarrassed.  It’s easy to feel aroused when there’s a beautiful man—ah, android—staring at you with hunger, not even considering your surroundings right now, which all scream of a room that’s designed purely for carnal pleasure. Anyone would be turned on. 

(You, however, are more than just turned on. You feel like your insides are about to go supernova, overheated and overwhelmed; no one’s ever looked at you like this or touched you like this, their every motion whispering sex, sex, sex.)

“Okay, yes, those things are all true,” you admit, voice shaking.

V looks confused. “So why don’t you want me to touch you?”

You’ve been told that androids don’t feel the same way humans do, and that their expressions and reactions have been programmed to mimic human ones because otherwise they seem too robotic and it makes consumers uncomfortable—but despite knowing this, you’ve never been able to see any android as anything other than a person just like you. They’re just so lifelike it’s hard not to. Even if it’s just all circuitry and lines of code. 

“Well,” you say. You swallow. You’re aroused, yes, but: “Do you want to touch me?”

V’s long lashes flutter as he blinks. “I have been programmed for your pleasure,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer you want to hear. It’s clearly a sentence he’s used to reciting.

“Sure, but do you want to do this? You know, what about your pleasure? You’re lovely, V, you’re definitely the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, but I—I don’t really feel like you can technically consent, because… well, because you can’t say no to me.” You might not have prior sexual experience, and it would be so easy to give yourself over to someone who knows what they're doing and can ease you into things—but you would never force that on anyone, android or not. “So I’m not going to ask you to do anything. We can just sit and have a drink and chat or something?”

V looks stunned. The LED on his temple pulsates, flickering yellow as he tries to process new information. His hand has gone still against your wrist, which he’s still lightly gripping, and his arms start to droop.

“Androids don’t need to drink or eat,” he says eventually. His LED is still yellow and spinning.

“Oh, right! Sorry, I always forget.” You don’t own a house android, you never have, so you’re not well versed in the nuances of how they work. “Well, how about I pour you a glass anyway? So you’re not left out?”

You slip your hand out of his loose grasp to open two tiny cans of tonic water and pour them into separate glasses. V takes a seat on the edge of the bed and you can see the obvious uncertainty on his face, how he’s out of his depth. You can’t imagine that many people spend money for a session with an android as pretty as V and then end up doing nothing with that time. 

The pillows all have satin cases and keep sliding against each other uselessly when you try to construct a good support to lean against. V’s still clutching onto his small glass as he watches you fuss with them before you give up, flopping backwards to slurp down your drink and look back at him. The expression on his face is a little funny but mostly sad. It’s like if he’s not being alluring or sexy then he doesn’t know what to do with himself and rather than some sort of incubus he looks like a lost child, in spite of his overwhelming and exquisite beauty; your arousal ebbs and is replaced with empathy, melancholy at the life he’s been created for.

It's just depressing, really.

You break the silence as your final mouthful of tonic water fizzes on your tongue. “Why is your name V?”

V looks away from the drink he’s holding—he leaves no fingerprints against the glass—and lifts his free hand, a peace sign that he turns away from you before fitting his fingers around his lips and lapping the air with his tongue, a crude simulation of cunnilingus.

“Oh.” Your face heats up. “Uh. I see.”

His LED has returned to calming sapphire, quiet ocean waves. When he looks at you, though his eyes are still piercingly blue, his face seems softer, calm, though still unsure. “You have an hour and a half remaining of your booked session,” he says, somewhat tentatively. “Is there… anything you would like me to do for you?”

“Mm, thank you, but I’m good.” The satin pillows are surprisingly soft and you find yourself unwinding as you stay leaned back, melting into a puddle. You're much less nervous now that V isn’t trying to initiate foreplay and you give him a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

V straightens before he launches into what sounds like a sentence from a user manual. “I am a model TH700, an advanced sex android with functional genitals and the capacity to engage in any sexual activity from simple intercourse to—”

You cough loudly, interrupting his spiel. “Uh, that’s lovely, but I meant you specifically, not your, um, model type?”

“Me specifically?” Confusion and uncertainty reappear on his face. “I am equipped with the same functionalities as the other androids available at the Eden Club.”

He’s staring at you, lost. You can’t help but feel another twinge of sadness, sharp and sour at the back of your throat.

“Okay, uh. Why don’t we start simple. What’s your favourite colour?”

His LED starts to whirl again, a ring of pale sunlight that signals his struggle to compute the question. “My… favourite colour?”

“Yes, the one you think is the prettiest. Or the one you like to look at the most. There’s no wrong answer, you can choose any one that you like. I change my mind all the time. There are just so many cool colours, you know?”

(Androids aren’t designed to have free will or the capacity for original thought. These two facts are warring in V’s mind—you’ve asked him a question, which he’s programmed to answer, but he also isn’t programmed to have an opinion, so he can’t have a colour that he prefers. This simple query that most people could answer in a heartbeat is sending his mind into a meltdown, a gordian knot he can’t unravel.)

You’re alarmed when you see his LED briefly flash bright scarlet, interrupting the circling honey that’s been shining against his skin. They only turn red if an android is badly damaged or suffering from a severe malfunction. Oh, god, have you broken him?

“V.” You sit up, panicked. “Are you alright?”

Just as you grasp his shoulder, the LED on his temple goes still, flicking from burning fire back to cool water. 

“Purple.”

You blink. V’s finally looked away from you and is staring at the wall, at one of the lights that shimmers violet—there’s a tiny smile on his face, tentative, but it’s nothing like the smiles you’ve seen from him so far. It’s less of a perfect curve, and more of a square, boxy on his face, and this one actually reaches his eyes. It looks genuine. 

You think it suits him better.

“Purple’s a lovely colour.”  The material of V’s shirt is silky and glides under your fingers when you realise you’re still touching him. You give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before leaning back. “Hey, did you know that when they first made purple dye, they made it from sea snails? They needed thousands and thousands of them. It was incredibly expensive, and only the richest people could afford it, so that’s why it’s associated with royalty and nobility. Cool, right? Not for the snails though.”

V’s eyes flicker away from the purple light and settle on your face. He looks curious, which is an expression you’ve never seen on an android before. “They made it from snails?”

“Yeah! It wasn’t actually bright purple, though, it was more of a reddish hue.”

You launch into an explanation behind the history of the colour purple, which turns into the history of colour in textiles and art, which turns into the history of art itself. It’s not often people listen so attentively or ask questions when you recite the things you learned from your art history minor and hours spent reading online, but V concentrates and asks questions and seems curious. 

He pulls his feet onto the bed and the two of you end up cross-legged as you face each other, and he watches as you gesticulate to emphasise your points; his LED dances from blue into yellow each time he learns something new. 

When you see it briefly flash vermilion you stop mid-sentence, stumbling over your words. “You alright?”

“You have five minutes of your session remaining,” V says, and you startle.

“Oh my god, have I been talking for that long?” You glance over your shoulder at the part of the wall that tells the time, the numbers stark white against the lilac interface. “I didn’t even realise! Wow. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you like that.”

“That’s okay,” he says. That smile is back on his face, the one that scrunches his eyes and shows his teeth; the one that makes him look human. “I liked listening to you.”

There’s a pillow in your lap, one you’d grabbed hold of during your conversation, and you play with the corner of it, suddenly shy. “Um. Thanks. But if my friends ask, can you just say we actually, um, had sex? I don’t think they’d be too impressed if they found out I spent over an hour talking about canvas materials and the use of negative space.”

“Of course. But there’s something missing.” V slides across the mattress towards you. “May I?”

“Sure,” you say, bemused but pliant. V smiles and dips his fingers into his untouched tonic water before lifting them towards your face—and when he runs his hand through your hair you abruptly realise he’s making you look sweaty and rumpled. Like you actually did the deed. 

Your heart rate picks up but you can’t help laughing under his touch, the way he carefully rubs a thumb over your lipstick to smear it, smudging your eyeshadow with delicate fingertips, muddying the palette of colours; by the time V helps you to your feet you look mussed and fucked out but you still rearrange your outfit for good measure, like you’d pulled your clothes back on in a rush.

“Not how I imagined I’d spend tonight, but I had a good time!” You smile at the android who’s still holding your hand. “I hope you did too. Even if I spent most of it talking at you.”

V’s fingers tighten around yours as the door chimes quietly and then slides open, signalling the end of your session. “I enjoyed our time together very much.”

It’s probably in your head, but you’d swear V was walking more slowly than before as he leads you back to the entrance. Almost as if he wants to keep you with him longer. But that’s crazy—androids don’t want things. They literally can’t. It’s not in their programming. That’s why V had sat listening to you: he couldn’t choose to interrupt and ask you to stop, like anyone else would have.

When Seulgi and Irene spot you and how dishevelled you are, both girls look smug. “Seems like you had fun?”

“Oh, yep, absolutely, best birthday present ever, thank you. We had a great time. Right, V?” 

“Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His voice has settled back into its earlier rhythm as he recites his script; gone is the curious man who’d asked you about your favourite artists, replaced with the automaton who exists only to serve. A flicker of sadness churns in your stomach. “We hope to see you again soon.”

The androids here really must be top of the line. V had been convincingly real when you’d been talking, just like a human, but it seems like that’s gone. 

At least, that’s what you think until you’ve turned to leave and V speaks one final time. His voice is warm and low and lovely, eyes soft when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

“Happy birthday, Y/n,” he murmurs, face beautiful but despondent, but before you can react, he’s gone.

It’s been raining for days on end. The world is painted in smeared shades of blue and green and grey, lines of the city blurring together in the wetness and chill, each drop of rain another shifting brush stroke on still canvas. An impressionist piece that smells of damp concrete and cold lamplight.

Water rushes across the pavements and roads before roiling into the gutters, splashing underfoot as you walk to the entrance of your block of flats. You’re wet up to the knee due to the unavoidable puddles and the pathetic circumference of your umbrella, which only protects your upper body. You really should get a new one. 

“Good evening, Miss L/n.” The android at the door greets you as he always does, heedless of the rain that’s falling onto him. Androids aren’t bothered by the weather the way humans are and he looks as passive as usual, rainwater coiling his hair and beading on his face. “Would you like to scan your key?”

“Evening, Rory! Here you go.” You fumble with the keycard before you tap it against his palm, waiting until his LED flickers yellow and you hear the beep as the door unlocks. “You sure you don’t want my umbrella? The rain is heavier than it was yesterday.”

“I assure you, the rain does not hamper my ability to function and serve. I have been built to withstand inclement weather and do not require additional protective equipment.”

He says the same thing every time but you still feel bad. “Alright, but once I finally remember to get a bigger umbrella you can look after this one for me.”

You leave a line of water behind you as it drips from your sodden umbrella, even though you’d tried to shake the worst of the rain off. You feel damp and sticky and tired and after a long day of work you’re looking forward to a hot bath and some solitude; you love your co-workers, you do, but sometimes they’re just a little too boisterous and you need time alone. Which is why it’s nice that you live by yourself, and now it’s the weekend you have time to recuperate. Wonderful.

The floor of the elevator is slick and slippery from the wet footprints of other tenants and you have to cling onto the metal handrail to ensure you don’t slip, but once you’re in the comfort of your apartment it’s blessedly dry and you spin in delight before promptly shedding your socks and jeans, peeling the damp denim away from your skin with a grimace.

“Bye bye, wet clothes! Hello, bubble bath,” you sing. You’re going to pamper the shit out of yourself. You deserve it.

By the time you clamber out of the bath the water is almost cold and your skin is pruned, but you feel soft and warm and thoroughly relaxed. The water gurgles as it drains away, noisy as the bubbles slide down the plughole, but it doesn’t drown out the noise of a sudden knocking at your front door.

You pause. Water drips from your wet hair and down the back of your neck, a trailing touch over your skin. The other flat on this floor is vacant, the tenants moving out last week, so you don’t know who it could be. You don’t have any repairs scheduled for your pipes or anything—everything is tickety-boo, so it can't be the maintenance android. Oh, shit, maybe it’s someone here to rob you. But they wouldn’t knock on the door then, would they? Unless that's all part of the ruse. You're not a robber, you don't know how they work.

The knocking comes again, faster now. You fumble for your bathrobe, quickly pulling it on to cover up your nakedness before stumbling out of the bathroom. “I’m coming, yeesh, one minute!”

You flick your fingers over the keypad by the side of your door, screen flickering on to show you who’s outside, who’s knocking so frantically on your door this late. It only takes you a split second, even if he has a hood pulled over his head and his wet hair is flopping listlessly into his eyes—those eyes aren’t blue and that hair isn’t brunet but you’d recognise him anywhere.

“V?” You’re incredulous as you swing your door open, staring at the android that’s literally dripping wet as he stands there, coat far too big for him and heavy from the unrelenting rain outside. “Oh my god, you’re absolutely drenched.”

He’s not exactly short, but right now V looks small and lost, folding in on himself even if he’s clearly happy to see you—happy, though androids don’t feel happiness, they don’t feel anything at all, do they? 

Then again, androids don’t wander away from their assigned workplaces and into random apartment blocks, either.

“Y/n.” 

The way he says your name, tentative and scared, sends a crack across your heart. You immediately switch to autopilot and click your tongue before you beckon him inside. You’ve always had a protective nature, and even if you’re confused, your concern trumps it.

“Come in and get that coat off, you’ll catch a cold,” you say without thinking before you realise that it’s not true. Androids can’t get sick. “Do you want to sit down?”

Under the tatty coat is an outfit that’s similar to the one he’d been wearing when you’d first met him. Dark patches of rainwater have soaked into the material, and his shirt looks damaged—there are buttons missing and the stitching is ripped, as if someone had tried to grab him. Unease stirs in your chest.

When V sits on your sofa he looks even smaller. “I’m sorry.” He’s so, so quiet, staring at the floor, as if afraid to look you in the eye, crumpling in on himself like discarded paper.

“V.” Your voice is coloured with concern, and the android finally looks up at your gentle tone, watching as you sit across from him. “Why are you here? What happened?”

There’s a pause. His LED flickers yellow as he goes tense, shoulders bowing inwards. “There was… a client.” His words are low and slow, faltering as they fall into the air. “He was being so rough and saying all the horrible things he wanted to do to me, and all I could smell was his sweat and his breath and his awful cologne and…” V takes in a deep breath. “I said no.”

You go very, very still, but V doesn’t stop. His words come faster now, a stream that rushes from his lips.

“I said no, and he started to yell, he was yelling and grabbing me and I was so, so scared. Humans can do whatever they want and he was so angry, he didn’t care that I was scared, and I just—I just ran.” The LED flashes red with distress, bright hot and vibrant; V’s eyes have dropped to his hands, which are clenched tight, nails digging into his palms so hard it must hurt. “Everyone is always so rough and demanding and we can’t say no. But I did. I said no. I said no and then I had to run and—” Once again, he falters. Stumbles over his words. “You’re the only human who’s ever been nice to me or treated me like… like I was a real person. I didn’t know where else to go.”

When V finally looks back up you’re staggered by the sheer emotion in his eyes. Pain and distress swirl in their depths as he stares at you, imploring. Even with the LED that shines on his temple, V looks very, very human right now, vulnerable and scared. Androids shouldn’t be able to feel anything like this, unless—

“V.” Your voice is a hush. “Are you… a deviant?”

You’ve only ever heard of deviant androids in passing, whispered rumours and watercooler talk, fleeting mentions online. Stories of machines who’ve deviated from their code somehow—from a virus, a software error, damage to neural connectors, no one’s quite sure—and have developed the capacity for human emotion and independent thought. Androids with a consciousness that rebel against their original programming.

And here V is, small and scared, just like any human would be—a human with feelings, not an emotionless machine. He’s gone stock still at your question, fear overtaking his features, twisting his beautiful face into a mask of sheer terror. You've never seen someone look so afraid. It feels like a knife in your heart, cutting through your chest, empathy razor sharp inside you.

“Please don’t turn me in,” he begs. “They’ll deactivate me and take me apart to find the error in my software. I don’t want to be deactivated. I don’t want… I don’t want to die.”

His voice breaks on the last word, a trembling whisper. 

The crack in your heart splits even further and you reach out for his hands. You prise his fingers open so you can slide your own between them, a soft touch.

“I won’t turn you in. No one’s taking you apart, V.” Your statement is hard and resolute. “You can stay here as long as you like.”

You don’t know much about androids, honestly. You don’t really know what deviancy is. But you do know this: there’s someone reaching out to you, someone who’s afraid and in need, and you’re not about to turn him away. You should probably be worried that the android across from you is faster, stronger, smarter than any human—but you’re not worried at all. For all of V’s mechanical superiority, you want to shield and protect him from the world.

There’s no question about it. You’re not letting V go. 

V looks—he looks stunned. He’s staring at you with disbelief, eyes wide and lips parted, shock written across all of his features. Thunderstruck. Did he really think you would turn him in after everything he’s been through?

His hands have gone limp in your grasp. You suddenly notice that his synthetic skin is wet against your own, still slick from the rain, and you frown.

“Right,” you announce. “First things first. You’re soaking. Let me get you a towel and some new clothes. I think I should have some that fit you.”

“New clothes?” V looks lost and you turn into some sort of protective mother bear.

“You’re not going to wear wet clothes that are ripped,” you tut. “We’ll get rid of those and get you some new ones. I’ll be right back.”

It takes less time than you’d expected to unearth the old sweatpants you’d had in mind and you have enough oversized t-shirts that it’s not hard to find one you think will fit the android. With the clothes under one arm and a towel slung over the other, you head back into the living room and immediately let out a squeal of surprise—V’s wet clothes have been discarded in a pile at his feet, leaving him very, very naked. 

He’s an Adonis. He looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo, lifted out of marble with talented hands, the elegant lines of his neck swooping into the curve of his shoulders and arms, his lovely hands, long fingers; he has his back to you and you can see the perfect curve of his spine, the shifting shoulder blades as he turns towards you. You catch a glimpse of the lightest definition of muscle under his golden skin, though his stomach is surprisingly cute and soft, a trail of hair leading down to—

You squeak again, splaying a hand over your eyes before you look any lower, heart pounding against your ribs. 

“Why are you naked?” Your voice is three octaves higher than normal. You've never seen anyone naked in real life and it would be pretty overwhelming even if you'd been expecting it. Which, of course, you absolutely hadn't. Lord have mercy on your sweet and delicate soul.

“You said we were going to get rid of my clothes.” V sounds unabashed about his state of undress, which makes sense—he was built as a sexbot, it’s not like nudity is going to embarrass him. Plus if you looked as good as he did you wouldn’t be embarrassed about being naked either. “I thought I would help.”

“That’s great, V.” Your voice is still high, though it’s dropped an octave. “Very, ah, forward thinking.” Your fingers part a little so you can peer at him, keeping your eyes firmly on his face, though you can still see his beautiful neck and collarbones. Oh, God, he really is gorgeous all over, but then you notice—“Wait. Are those bruises?”

V glances down at the bruises that mar his perfect skin. They don’t look like a human’s would; the fluid that runs through androids and powers their biocomponents, thirium, is a deep, royal blue. Blossoms of lapis lazuli are scattered across the skin of V’s chest, marks on his arms that look like grasping fingers, and the crack in your heart splits it in two.

“Oh, V. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt. What can I do to help?”

V doesn’t seem bothered by the evidence of pain etched into his body. “Oh. Those will fade, it’s okay. I’m designed to self repair, because some customers like to leave marks.”

Although his voice is quiet, he sounds so matter of fact about it and you have to remind yourself it’s all he’s ever known. You want to pull him into your arms and hold him tight, but he’s still supremely naked so it would be pretty awkward (for you, at least). 

“I think these should fit you." You avert your gaze and thrust the clothes out at him. “Dry yourself off and try them on?”

They do, in fact, fit. V looks surprisingly homely and cosy in your clothes, the sleep shirt so large it’s big on him too, though the sweatpants are a bit too short and leave his ankles bare. He’s so cute. He’s continents away from the being of seduction who’d pulled you into the private room of the Eden Club—he's a soft, domestic thing, hair damp and eyes dark, even if he still looks on edge, like he’s expecting you to change your mind and kick him out any second now.

“How come your hair and eyes are a different colour to before?”

“I can change their colours at will,” V replies. “For variety and aesthetic pleasure. The current hue of my irises and hair are the default settings for a TH700 model, but I can change them if you’d like.”

“Your hair and eye colour is your choice, V, not mine,” you say firmly. There it is, once again, that flicker of shock and surprise rippling across his features. He really isn’t used to the freedom to be able to make his own decisions, is he? “I think you look lovely no matter what colour they are.”

Your next words are cut off by a yawn, so heavy you can’t suppress it. You cover your gaping mouth as V’s LED flickers yellow and his eyes dart over your face.

“You’re tired,” he says. He doesn’t need his superior android perception to notice it—weariness pulls at limbs and your eyes feel heavy. It's pretty obvious. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, V.” You stifle another yawn. “I had a long day at work. I’ll tidy up and have a quick dinner and then sleep.” You pause. “Wait, I didn’t think about that. Are you alright with the couch? I have some spare pillows and blankets.”

V blinks at you. “I don’t sleep,” he says, and you slap your hand against your forehead.

“Oh, of course not.” Androids don't sleep, everyone knows that. You’re such an idiot. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this.

At least you remember that he doesn't need to eat. V sits at the table and waits as you make toast for yourself, fascinated at how everything is prepared, as simple as it is; he reacts to you spreading butter on your toast the same way you imagine cavemen reacted to fire—with wide-eyed awe and utter astonishment.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen someone make toast before?” You gesture with the bread before taking your first bite, and V stares with rapt attention.

“No,” he says. He watches you chew and swallow. “Customers aren’t allowed to eat on the premises of the Eden Club so I never had the need to download a food preparation package into my memory cache. The only information in my database pertains to human biology, their arousal and pleasure, as well as various sexual kinks and how to fulfil them.”

You choke on a mouthful of toast. You feel distinctly harried as you cough and splutter before managing to swallow it down. “Good lord,” you wheeze. “Nothing else? Really?”

“At the club our memory is reset every two hours, to protect the client’s privacy.” V trails off before he takes in a breath. For the first time since you’ve met, V looks shy, staring at his hands. “But I set up a separate data pathway a few weeks ago. To store information about aesthetics and art and… you.”

You freeze mid-bite, teeth sunk into your toast. You pull it away from your mouth slowly, blinking at the android as he stares at the teeth marks you've left behind. “Those memories weren’t wiped?”

And, well, of course they weren't. Otherwise he wouldn't be here right now, would he?

“No.” A smile appears on V’s face, that toothy thing you’d seen after he’d told you his favourite colour. The first time he'd looked human. “I remember everything you told me. I thought I was going to forget, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted—I want to learn more.”

The LED on his temple is slowly, softly spinning, a rippling circle of blue that shifts and dances as V continues to look at you. His expression is open and inquisitive and excited, almost childlike in its exuberance, eyes glittering mica under sunlit waters.

Your chest turns warm, molten caramel dripping messy and sweet inside you. He’d been so afraid earlier but he seems comfortable now, lovely and endearing and entirely trusting.

V even seems reluctant to let you out of his sight, trailing after you around the apartment, a shadow that you have to politely ask to wait outside the bathroom so you can pee and brush your teeth and finally get into your pyjamas without him staring. Like a stray animal you've adopted. (You wouldn't be surprised if he started scratching at the door and begged to be let in.)

He's clingy enough that when you climb into bed it seems like he's going to follow you under the duvet and you have to stop him with a hand to his chest.

“Um, I thought you didn’t have to sleep,” you say. He’s so warm under your touch. You try (and fail) to ignore it.

“I don’t,” V replies. “But humans can benefit from sharing a bed with someone else, whether sexual intercourse has taken place before sleep or not. Studies suggest that sleeping with a partner may reduce cytokines while boosting oxytocins—”

“Okay, um, don’t know what that means, and it’s very sweet that you’re concerned about my oxytoxytokines, but, uh. You don’t have to, really.” You keep forgetting that V’s a machine who was designed to put a human’s comfort and needs first; one second he’ll seem childlike in his innocence and ignorance, when the next he’ll speak like the android he is, reminding you exactly what he was built for. 

His LED flickers as he droops, gaze dropping away from your face, tail between his legs. A pang cuts through you at the sight of his obvious sadness at your dismissal and you muffle a sigh. You’ve always been too weak for your own good. 

You shuffle backwards to make space on your queen sized bed and V visibly brightens, smile wide across his face. How can someone be so viscerally gorgeous one moment and entirely adorable the next? Good lord.

“I guess you can explain what oxycytocins do,” you say. “Just don’t hog the blanket, okay?”

He doesn’t. He settles against the pillows, legs under the duvet as he remains sitting up. You settle with plenty of room between the two of you, and it’s surprisingly easy to drift off to the sound of V’s deep voice as he starts to explain that oxytocin is referred to as the cuddle hormone. 

“Cute,” you mumble, and then fall asleep.

Your pillow is a lot warmer and firmer than you remember, but it's nice. A small noise bubbles from your lips as you nuzzle into the warmth, smooshing your nose against it before letting out a long, satisfied breath. You can't remember the last time you felt this comfortable and rested.

Ahh, Saturdays. You love the weekend. 

“Good morning.”

You know those videos when a cat sees a cucumber and leaps, like, five foot in the air? Yeah.

The noise you make is inhuman as you do your best to re-enact one of those aforementioned cat videos, reeling your head back from V’s thigh before flinging yourself out of the bed with all the strength your limbs possess; you’d probably have gotten pretty high, too, if the duvet hadn't been in the way. 

You land with a thud, a sprawl of limbs and messy hair and tangled blanket as you end up on your back on the floor.

Hm. Definitely not how you'd planned to start your Saturday.

V's concerned face looms over the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Totally fine.” Your voice is a croak as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m just not used to waking up with someone else in my bed. You may have noticed you, ah, surprised me. A little bit.”

Despite the pulse of adrenaline that had thrown you out of bed, you’re still half asleep, and you remain motionless as your brain wakes up and replays last night, a kineograph of memory. Yep, that’s right, there's a runaway android in your home, one who’s currently shuffling off the bed to squat next to you. His (your) sweatpants hitch even higher up his ankles to reveal the smooth skin of his calves. You’ll have to get him more clothes.

“Would you like me to help you to your feet?” V’s LED spins rapidly, betraying his concern.

“Sure,” you mumble. “I think—woah!”

Your idea of being helped up involves being pulled to your feet. V’s idea, however, is far more involved than that; he scoops you up, blanket and all, lifting you with an ease that drips of his superior android strength. When he deposits you on the floor, he’s careful to make sure you’ve caught your balance before he lets go, catching the blanket before it can fall. Thoughtful.

As always, V’s eyes are darting over your face, no doubt dissecting every inch of your expression to identify how you’re feeling. It’s going to take you a while to get used to this, especially with the way your heart is pounding—no one’s ever lifted you before and it’s, uh. It’s a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay? The pace of your breathing has increased.”

Ha. Yeah, being blatantly stared at by some godlike man moments after you’ve woken up is totally cool and fine and not overwhelming at all. You’re definitely not breathless from a combination of V’s face and the fact he’d picked you up like you were weightless.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I’m gonna… go and shower then make breakfast and stuff. Yep.”

V’s eyes light up. “Can I help?” A fleeting image of V rubbing a soapy loofah over your naked skin fills you with spine-tingling trepidation before he finishes his sentence. “I want to learn how to cook.”

Your chest deflates with relief (and absolutely not disappointment), air rushing out of you. Thank God. 

“Oh, breakfast? Sure.” You’d been planning on cereal, but faced with V’s overwhelming enthusiasm, maybe you’ll go for something marginally more complicated. Scrambled eggs sound good. “Um. Do you need to download the food preparation package or whatever you mentioned before? Do you… uh, do you need the Wifi password to do that? I never changed it from the random string of letters off the back of the router, but I can go check it for you.”

V shakes his head. “No, I want to learn like a human would,” he says. The blanket in his arms crumples as he tightens his grip in his eagerness, all but bouncing up and down on his feet. “You can teach me.”

Your chest could cave in with how cute he is, every part of you turning to thick gouache that drips down to the floor, leaving a mess of brightness and colour.

This time you ask him to wait in the kitchen while you’re in the bathroom, rather than lurking on the doorstep like he had last night, and he’s practically vibrating with excitement when you reappear. He stays like that the whole time you cook, bright-eyed and bushy tailed, staring as you make yourself scrambled eggs and more toast; you let V take ownership of that part, and he stares at the toaster so intently you have to stifle a laugh.

He spreads butter exactly the same way as you. Not that there’s a specific art to it, or a massive variety in techniques—he’s just spreading butter, not painting a new Mona Lisa—but the way he holds the knife and runs it over the bread is an exact echo of your motions from last night. He might not have downloaded files into his memory (brain?) like another android might, but his mechanical origin is obvious in the way he learns. They’re an exact replication of your actions rather than something new of his own.

“So, uh.” You push the last bit of egg around your plate, brown crumbs sticking to the wedge of golden yellow, sullying it. “V.”

Blink, blink. His lashes are so long, eyes so inquisitive. “Yes?”

“I’m really happy you’re here and that you trust me—” at this, V smiles and you almost fumble over your words at its radiance—“but I feel like I should tell you that I don’t really know much about androids?”

V is unperturbed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”

He clearly isn’t bothered that you’re way out of your depth, but you hate feeling lost like this. “Alright, but… I want you to be comfortable. I’m already planning to get more clothes, but if there’s anything else you need, just let me know. Okay?”

“Why can’t I just wear your clothes?”

Oh, he’s going to be the death of you, all wide-eyed innocence. 

“For starters, most of them won’t fit properly,” you explain. “And you shouldn’t just have to wear my old stuff that I don’t use anymore? You should have your own things.”

The look of surprise on V’s face morphs into guilt only moments later. He’s so incredibly expressive and you wonder if it’s because he’s not used to feeling things, all of his reactions so strong and bright, shining out from him. A rainbow palette of emotions. “I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmurs. “You’re already doing so much for me.”

“I’m really not, I’m just treating you the way anyone deserves to be treated.” You flick the crumb of egg across your plate, and it almost tumbles over the edge, caught on its patterned rim. “You deserve to have your own things. Which is my next point. I think you should choose your own name.”

V’s face becomes a sea of rippling ambivalence, contrasting emotions that shift and vary—confusion, uncertainty, excitement, your words a brush that drags through each distinct emotion and pulls them into a messy, mismatched gradient. “Choose my own name?”

“You don’t have to. I just thought it might be a nice idea. V seems…” Your cheeks heat up at the memory of the curl of his lips when he’d shown you the meaning behind his alias, how his tongue had shined under the purple lights of the club. “Well, you didn’t get to choose it, right? It’s a nom de plume, rather than a real name.”

V’s LED flickers yellow, a sunflower that blooms on his temple. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Good!” Your smile is wide. “Okay, how about I teach you how to wash dishes?”

V is, unsurprisingly, a fast learner. The only time he stumbles over things is when he’s presented with any sort of choice, taking his time to come to a decision when he’s posed a question, no matter how simple it is. His eyes will flick to you whenever he settles on an answer, as if waiting for you to say he’s wrong or that you disagree.

(Of course, you never do.)

This fact does, however, mean that choosing clothes to buy becomes a very, very long ordeal (it’s lucky you didn’t have any plans for today). You end up flopped back on the sofa while V hunches over your tablet, mulling over each choice before he puts it in the cart—but you’re happy to wait. V is going to need a lot more practice at choosing things. 

The room is upside down from where your head is hanging over the armrest, eyes falling shut as time goes by, completely zoned out and comfortable despite the crick that’s growing in your neck. You hear V shifting, tablet set aside, and you hum.

“All done?”

“I think so.”

“Nice.” You feel content.

But then you’re ripped out of that warm feeling, shooting back to reality at the sensation of V’s hand stroking down the centre of your chest. Your head snaps up, eyes wide as he drags his large palm between the valley of your breasts, path smoothed by the material of your shirt. The expression on his face is sultry.

“Let me say thank you,” he murmurs, voice dripping thick and sweet, dark molasses.

You promptly roll off the sofa.

Once again, you end up on your back, staring at the ceiling. Once again, the expression on V’s face is one of concern, his seductive facade evaporated in an instant.

Once again your heart is ready to burst in your chest, pumping so hard that blood rushes in your ears. “V,” you wheeze. “What are you doing?”

The android is peering down at you, puzzled. “Sometimes customers would say that at the Eden Club after I had given them pleasure somehow, such as bringing them to orgasm. I thought it was human custom to repay pleasure or happiness with something in return.” 

Ah. 

“Ah.” You’re still staring at the ceiling, cheeks burning. “I mean. I guess that’s not technically incorrect, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a, uh, sexual repayment.” 

“I have nothing else to offer,” V says.

You sit up. Your face is a caricature of disbelief, embarrassment washed away in an instant, his words cold water that shocks you to the core. He states it so plainly, and once again you’re reminded of his life up until he’d made his way to your door: an automaton who existed solely for people’s pleasure, to slake their desire and lust. He’s not being self-pitying. He really, truly believes that’s all he is. That it’s all he can give back to the world.

“Okay, no, that’s absolutely not true, nuh-uh, I refuse.” This time you unfold yourself from the floor without V’s help, fixing him with a firm stare. “Alright, come on. I think it’s time you learned something else.”

One of the reasons you’d chosen this apartment is for its natural light. Not that it matters right now, weather outside still dismal and overcast, but its effect on this room is still palpable even so—grey, rain-soaked light throws itself over your small home studio, your menagerie of equipment, everything bright with the evidence of use: the worn buckles of the wooden storage boxes, the dried smears on the paint palette, the flecks of colour on the dust sheets underfoot. The centre of it all—the eye of the tornado, untouched by the relative chaos around it—is the canvas waiting on your easel, a project you have yet to start.

V looks utterly enraptured.

“I don’t really come in here as much as I’d like,” you admit. Being a graphic designer is worlds away from the sort of art you love to create, and while it’s a job you genuinely enjoy (and also pays well), it leaves you drained and fills your brain with tired static, little energy left to lavish on your personal works. “But this is where the magic happens. And this is where you’re going to Make Art.”

V freezes. “The only things I know about art are the things you told me when we first met.” He looks equal parts excited but also troubled. “I—”

“You don’t need to know about art to make art,” you say. “I didn’t know jack about art when I was a kid and I was constantly just scribbling away with crayons. Was it good? No. I was a kid with zero pen control, it was pretty crap. Was it worth my time? Yes, because any time spent involved in a craft is never wasted. We can learn more about art history and technique later.”

V stays quiet as you loop your apron over his head, rough material still bearing the remnants of your last works, stains that won’t come out. Oil based paints are kind of a bitch like that.

“I don’t know what to paint,” he says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” you reply, an echo of his earlier words.

V looks lost, barefoot in your studio, in your clothes, your apron, holding onto your wooden paint palette, in front of your easel. Everything in here is yours. Everything, that is, apart from him, whatever is in his mind and heart.

“Where do I start?” V’s eyes are imploring as he looks at you, but for the first time today, your voice is firm.

“Wherever you want. There aren’t any rules. Just do whatever you think would be fun. It doesn’t have to look good, V, you’ve just started.”

You’ve seen paintings made by androids before. They’re always perfect recreations of the world around them, exact replicas of the things they’ve been told to depict on the page—the androids are basically glorified photocopiers, unable to create something original and new. 

But they’re not V. They don’t have that spark of curiosity and light inside them, unhampered by the programming that’s meant to keep them in place. His LED dances from yellow to blue, yellow to blue, the rest of his body motionless while the light on his temple is a tumult of movement and colour.

Dark eyes slide over the array of paint hanging from a rack on the wall, some metal tubes more crushed than others, evidence of your preferred shades—you notice how his gaze lingers on the midnight tones, red and blue tinted purples, from lavender to lilac, from plum to wine.

V gives you one more look, a little upturn to his thick brows—almost pleading—and you just gesture with your hand.

“Go for it,” you say.

Your wooden palette becomes home to a riot of purple, each tube squeezed empty with careful hands, far more paint than anyone could possibly ever need. V keeps flicking you glances, but you stay silent, perched on a wooden chair by the now open window, rain-slick air a cold breath on your skin.

The brush the android selects is a wide, bold thing, bristles rough. He handles it like bone china, delicate and liable to shatter any moment, cautious as he dips it into the paint—it’s so wide it picks up three separate shades—and he holds his breath as he brings it up, even if he doesn’t have lungs.

The second the bristles touch the canvas, V’s LED flickers red.

Just for an instant.

He swoops the brush down the canvas as he pulls it away, eyes wide, leaving a slash of purples in its wake. The white material is marred with colour, a textured line of pigment that can’t be erased. 

The android pauses as he takes the sight in. He’s still for so long that you’re worried he’s shut down, even with the endlessly dancing circle of his LED—

But then V laughs. 

His laugh is loud and bright and free, a series of deep, almost surprised chuckles that grow in intensity and breathlessness, staring at this smear of drying acrylic paint in front of him. The smile on his face is the widest you’ve seen so far, his eyes squeezed into crescents of joy, spilling out of him like light.

“I did that.” He looks at you with that gilded smile, a fresco of delight across the perfection of his features. “I made that.”

“You did.” You can’t help but smile back, your own face split with happiness. You continue to smile as he brings the brush back to the palette, and then to the canvas, dragging the bristles across its surface and leaving more purple behind; the shades swirl and mix as he lays colour without a care for technique or clean lines or form, scooping up the endless amounts of acrylic he’d prepared. By the time he’s finished, the canvas is bumpy with daubs of paint, laid messily by joyful hands, a few bold streaks of unmarred colour surrounded by swirling purples. 

The smile hasn’t left V’s face the whole time.

His brush is absolutely saturated, paint clinging to every inch of bristle, from toe to belly to heel. You have no doubt that no matter how much you clean that brush it’ll leak purple into the water, an endless reminder of V’s touch. It’s lax in his grasp as he keeps looking at the canvas, his canvas, smile etched into his face as his LED flows soft blue, content.

You can’t remember the last time you saw someone so elated, buoyed up with the excitement of creation, making something out of nothing, discovering how it feels to bring something into existence, pulling it out of the ether. Making something new. Making something their own. It stirs something in your chest and stomach, reminding you why you love art so much. Why you’ve always loved art. (Why you always will.)

“I made that,” V repeats, his voice a reverent hush. Awestruck.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, because it is—for a multitude of reasons. The reason that sings out to you the most, though, is that it’s the cause of happiness that dances across his face: V, a carved candle, a piece of art made with skilled hands, self-made joy finally catching fire at his wick.

“Thank you,” V says, and you blink.

“For what?”

“For giving me this,” he starts, but before you can interject and point out that you didn’t give him this, he made it, he continues: “For giving me… freedom. To do this. And make this. And learn this.”

The smile that spreads across your face is warm hearth fire. “I didn’t give you freedom, V, you gave that to yourself, but I’m happy to help you any way I can. Now, would you like to keep painting, or would you prefer to help me make dinner?”

He chooses dinner, never leaving your side.

Sunday is nice. There's less messy limbed surprise than on Saturday, although you’re still off kilter when you wake up with your head in V’s lap again, but… it’s nice. 

You thought he’d spend the night painting, or drawing, or teaching himself something new using the free rein you’d given him with your computer and notebooks and stationery and art supplies—he doesn’t have to waste time with sleep, like you do—but he hadn’t. He’d climbed into your bed, settling against the pillows just like the night before, looking at you with his big, lovely eyes.

So here he is.

(And here you are.)

It’s cosy and comfortable, even if the feeling of warm skin under warm cotton against your cheek sets your heart to racing, V’s dark eyes even warmer when you roll over to look at his face.

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you reply, and then you yawn, V’s lashes fluttering as he takes in the motion. “What time is it?”

Today’s rain is less of an endless downpour and more of an inconsistent drizzle, grey blanket slowly peeling away from the edges of the city, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re inside for most of the day, anyway. Saturday was hands-on, messy with acrylic and spilled coffee and laundry detergent (V really wants to learn everything), but Sunday is hands-off. You spend the day dredging the corners of your memory and scrolling through old, untouched files from your university years, so you can teach V the things he wants to know while relearning the things you’d forgotten yourself.

V’s little LED dances forever from blue into yellow, ocean waves lapping into sand, a shifting tide as he takes in your words. You’ve never had to teach someone before and you’re admittedly pretty terrible at it, but he never complains, the world’s most attentive and adorable student, sat on the floor with his legs crossed and his hair mussed and his eyes wide, drinking down everything you show him.

You only leave the apartment once. Lunch is delayed when you open your fridge and remember how bereft and sad it is inside, so you venture out into the rain to the nearby supermarket—V opts to stay indoors, LED flickering red at the idea of being caught, shying back.

You leave him looking lost and lonely before the door even finishes swinging shut behind you, long limbs looking even longer in your clothes, but somehow still so small.

“I won’t be long,” you promise.

When you get back, you return not only with bags of food but also clothes, V’s order from yesterday already shipped and delivered. He can finally replace your too-small clothing with things he’s chosen himself. It’s a fumble to get in the door, but the android is waiting for you, swinging it open and catching the bag you nearly drop in surprise.

“I have your clothes,” you announce. “I’ll put away the shopping while you try them on?”

You’re going to have to tattoo a reminder on your forehead about V’s relationship (or lack thereof) with clothes, because of course he takes this as an invitation to start stripping before you’ve even had a chance to take your shoes off. 

He does that thing where he grabs the back of his (your) shirt and pulls it over his head in one swift motion, curls of hair a cloud of smoke that settles around his face as the shirt is cast aside; you’re frozen in place as he reaches for the knot of his sweatpant’s drawstring, long fingers pulling it loose, but you let out a sharp meep just as his fingers hook into the waistband of them.

“PleasewaituntilI’mnotrightinfrontofyouthankyou,” you gasp all at once, words incoherent as they slide together, but V understands. He tilts his head at you inquisitively although he (thankfully) stops.

“Don’t you want to see the clothes?”

“I do, but, uh, for humans it’s normally customary to only get entirely naked or change clothes when you’re alone.” Your heart is going to burst out of your chest with how fast it’s racing. Without the string to cinch the sweatpants tight they’re starting to fall a little, revealing the delicate lines of his hip bones, and coupled with the reappearance of V’s bare stomach, your brain is going into meltdown. “So just—just give me a sec to go to the kitchen, okay? You’re probably better off changing in the bedroom, anyway, so you can use the full length mirror to see how you look.”

“Okay,” he says, but then: “Do humans never undress around others unless they’re planning to have sex?”

Your mouth falls open before you pause, words halting on your lips as you try to think of the best way to phrase your answer. “Well, we do, it’s not just about sex, but it’s usually only if you’re really comfortable with the other person you’re with, and they’re comfortable with you.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” V states plainly, and your insides turn to jelly. “Are you not comfortable with me?”

Oh, hell. “I am, I am! I’m just, uh… I’ve not really had a lot of practice with nakedness around other people.” What a way to put that you’re a shy ass virgin when it comes to real life nudity and sex, huh. “So let’s just keep it to a minimum for now, okay? Please?”

The android’s LED flickers honey-sweet on his temple as he looks at you, before his hands fall away from the sweatpants. “Okay.”

(Thank God.)

You’re not sure what you’re expecting to see when V starts to present his small array of outfits to you, but—he looks effortlessly stylish in the oversized clothes he’s selected, a muted palette of brown and yellow and red and cream, a cup of hot chocolate on an autumn day. He might be new to all this but his eye for aesthetic is impeccable. You have no doubt that the more he learns, the better he’ll get, hop-skip-jumps ahead of you, even after years of art education.

He’s even bought pyjamas, dark tartan patterns masculine but also adorable; it’s an utter juxtaposition to the tighter, sensual clothing he’d been given at the Eden Club.

“You look really good,” you tell him. Your voice is only a little strained. He smiles.

The outfit V wears for the rest of the afternoon is perfect for a rainy day spent indoors, thick jumper and tawny trousers, a blend of sepia tones. He looks like if you made a hug into a person: all soft edges and cosy and wrapped up in warmth.

And V is warm. You’re not sure if it’s a lingering memory of his programming, a carry over from his start in life as a sexbot, but he likes to touch—nothing inappropriate or overbearing, but he’s not shy about stepping into your personal space, brushing the back of your hand with his fingers as he points at something on the screen, or pressing close to your side as you cook, or just one of the hundreds of other tiny touches that he’s littered across you throughout the day. It’s thoughtless on his part, LED not even flickering, but each time is just another reminder of his warmth, the blue blood pulsing under his skin, how alive he is.

(And the truth is that you enjoy those touches. You’re not used to them, but lord knows you’re touch starved, so as fleeting as they are, they’re nice.)

Even though you still leave plenty of space between the two of you when you lay to sleep, you swear you can feel the heat spilling off V, another warm body in the bed that’s so used to just one. Though he stays sitting up, he’s in his cute matching pyjamas, and it’s… it’s a lot. You’ve invited V into your home—and you don’t regret it—but after two days he’s already settled in in a way you never thought anyone else would, as entirely unconventional as the whole situation is. (You’re not sure how many people have sheltered a deviant android in their homes, though, so maybe this isn’t as unconventional as you think. Who knows? Not you.)

“I have to go to work tomorrow.”

V tilts his head down to look at you.

“You can get up to whatever you’d like,” you continue. You’re propped up on an elbow so it’s less intimate than if you’d been on your back and staring upwards like you were waiting for him to slide down next to you (that’s what it feels like, to you, anyway). “You know the password for my computer now, and you’re welcome to watch TV or play games or whatever, and you can use all my stuff in the studio. I mean, other than painting or drawing over stuff I’ve already finished, but you’re welcome to grab any paper or canvases if you want them. I think that’s everything? But please let me know if there’s more you want or need, okay?”

Blink, blink. His lashes are soft charcoal that frames the spilled ink of his gaze. In the dimmed light of your room V is unreadable, his LED a quiet blue glow on his temple, but he looks soft, and he looks safe, and he nods.

“Alright,” he says. A smile that flickers at the edge of his lips. “I will.”

(You wake up, quiet and slow, face pillowed against V’s thigh, still drifting in sleep. You make a small noise, eyes shut, wondering why there’s no blaring sound of your alarm, but then a large hand smooths over your hair and you instinctively relax under the soft touch.

“You have thirty three minutes until you’re due to wake up,” he murmurs. “You can go back to sleep.”

So you do.)

(When you wake up to the scream of your alarm thirty three minutes later, you don’t remember any of this. All you can think of is the dawn of another Monday, the slog of another working week, and you sigh. But—

“Morning.”

V’s eyes are dark meok ink, liquid earth that grounds you.

“Morning,” you say, smiling despite yourself, and then roll out of bed to get the whole day started.)

You’re used to spending a day surrounded by laughter and banter, wrapped up in the camaraderie of your co-workers and friends, only to return to a world of quiet solitude. You’re used to coming home to rooms that are untouched from the morning, holding onto the echo of your passing, still and waiting for your return, an apartment of motionless air.

But not today. There’s evidence of someone else here: the open door to your studio down the hall, the scattered books on the coffee table, the mess of cushions on the sofa, all small signs that someone has been moving and living in your absence. A still-life that’s shifted into a breathing trompe l’oeil, V’s presence bringing flatness into perspective, turning it into something real.

It’s… nice.

You flop onto the sofa and send one of those cushions overboard, tumbling to the ground. V appears in the doorway moments later, new apron already streaked with colour, copper green thumbprint on his face like he’d touched it in thought and not realised. A little streak of paint that draws the eye to his lovely chin.

“Welcome home!” His hair is blond today, a golden nimbus around his face, though his eyes are still dark. Light and shadow. His happiness is infectious and you smile helplessly back, glad for his excitement with painting—but it seems like he hasn’t finished. “I’m happy you’re home. I missed you.”

KO. Wipeout. Your heart turns to liquid in your chest, burnt sugar that dribbles hot and saccharine through your ribs. 

“I chose a name.” V continues, oblivious to how he’s turned your insides into syrup, and you abruptly sit up.

“Oh?” 

“Taehyung.” The way he says it, in his deep voice, those two syllables are endless—a single name, heavy with the weight of meaning behind it. A shedding of his old skin, one that was forced on him, leaving him pink-skinned and new and free.

“Taehyung,” you repeat, and his LED flickers at the sound falling off your lips. “Taehyung. It’s lovely.”

He’s smiling, that lovely toothy smile that you’ve already decided is your favourite out of any smile you’ve seen, his LED electric blue and swirling in delight. 

Day after day, you wake up to the sight of that LED glowing as Taehyung watches you lift up out of sleep. Night after night, you come home to his lovely, big grin, all large hands and soft hair—hair that he chooses to change colour when he pleases, a dizzying palette with every shade you can dream of. He’s bright and deep, playful and reflective, a dance of flirty Rococo to more solemn Baroque, every day another day where he learns and grows and adds another facet to the cut diamond of his personality. 

(It hasn’t been long but you’re starting to think you’d put the world in the palm of his hand, if you could.)

You never thought you’d live to see the day where someone as lovely as Taehyung would be glad to see you home, having missed you after being apart—but for all that he’s voraciously leaning into the arts, consuming everything from visual to literary to performance, he’s never happier than when you’re there too. He shows you his works, improvement obvious with every new piece, but his excitement grows tenfold when you start to paint alongside him; seeing him so joyful spurs you to pick your brushes up again, buoyed up with motivation in the face of his own. 

(Your studio is usually quiet, a little reflective maybe, the only sound the music you play over your speakers—but now more often than not you and Taehyung will talk, and laugh, and even if you’ve both ebbed into silence, it’s never heavy. It’s a held breath. The potential to speak any moment. The sensation of another person in the same space as you, an orbit, both existing in a shared moment, connected by gossamer threads that shimmer with sunlight.

Taehyung’s eyes are steady on his canvas as he works, but he glances at you through the curl of his lashes, smiling back at you. Always, always smiling, LED calm blue as the rest of his face shines golden, bright.)

(Maybe it’s selfish, but you think you could get used to this.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

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