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risuola · 2 days

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ENTRY #10 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

You make my heart do things it's not supposed to do.

contents: arranged marriage!au, teeth rotting fluff, nothing else — 1k words

a/n: expect me to drop few entries very quickly because they are all finished in my drafts <3

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It still flustered him.

Satoru never, not once in his 28 years of life, felt more confused, than right now. Why was his heart doing backflips in his chest? He sat there, on the wooden chair frozen and thankful for the furniture that held his weight because if suddenly it’d be taken away, he would collapse to the floor, meet the cold kitchen tiles and melt against them into a puddle of mess. He was there, stuck in time with his head empty and heart racing in his chest, rumbling against the cage of his ribs while you were going about the day without a care and attention to his pathetic state. A state you reduced him to.

It’s been few minutes already and Gojo sat there in silence, watching your back as you were washing fruit in the sink, snacking on the juicy strawberries he grabbed for you earlier that morning — a gesture foreign to his own body but he wanted, for once, to be the person who made you smile and not only experience the effect of someone else’s doing. He woke up earlier that day, before the sun even peaked above the horizon line and with his thoughts racing and stomach full of butterflies, he went on a very special mission.

It was a tiny market, way outside Tokyo but with the loveliest sellers. He found a booth he eyed once when on the job in the area, a stand full of little hand-woven baskets, each of them brimmed with fruit. The strawberries were red, some very bright and some very deep in color, glistening in the early sun with the morning dew that scattered across the surface looked as if little crystals were adorning the harvest. Satoru smiled and the old lady smiled as well.

“How can I help you, young man?” She asked, spreading her arms invitingly and Satoru could tell, by the look of her calloused hands, stained in juice and dirt, she was working hard every day to make a living.

“My wife loves strawberries,” he began, catching himself on the ease with which the word wife left his mouth, “but I don’t know much about picking the best ones. Could you help me with that?”

“You came to the right place, son!”

Just few moments later, Satoru was walking slowly towards his house, after warping back into the city. In his hand, a bag hung hooked over his fingers, full of those little baskets and their contents. He might have gone overboard with the purchase, but the joyful tears that welled in the eyes of that old woman when he paid her for fruit — definitely much more than it was worth according to the prices — he had no regrets. In result he carried the bagful of not only strawberries but also some apples, raspberries and sweet cherries — all of which he was forced to take, despite his initial plans of getting only the red ones you like so much.

“There you are, right on time,” your beautiful, melodic voice greeted him the moment he swung the doors open, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He could’ve bought you flowers as well, he planned to do so, but he had to evacuate himself from the grasp of that one seller lady, because as lovely as she was, if he stayed a moment longer, she would pack him her entire harvest of that morning. “I thought you went out earlier, but I made breakfast for you anyway.”

“I went for a little walk,” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant and at ease as he could despite the rageful whirl of butterflies in his stomach. Why was he so nervous? “And I bought you these.”

A soft thud barely made itself apparent above the cacophony of clinking plates and cutlery, but it was enough to catch your attention. You looked at him, curious, and somewhat carefully reached into the bag now rested on the kitchen table. Your face brightened up, your eyes glimmered and you smiled — and Satoru could’ve sworn he’s never seen something more beautiful. You reminded him of a child that got a toy it dreamed of. Pure happiness washed over your features and he wondered if it was always that easy to bring joy to your otherwise calm self.

“Oh my god, Satoru–“ you gasped out, fishing out one of the berries and after a short rinse under the water, you popped it into your mouth and melted. He was told by the woman in the market that the type she was growing on her fields was exceptionally sweet, with the right amount of tang and a lot of juice.

“Tasty?” He asked, watching how you savored the flavor with pure pleasure.

They were tasty. He found out himself, because when your lips pressed to his own, he forgot how to breathe and the only things on his mind were the plushiness of your mouth and that sweetness. His body moved on its own, his hands found their place on your hips, pulled you in, as if it was a natural reaction for him to bring you closer.

And then, before he managed to secure his grip on you, you were gone from his proximity, leaving only the lingering taste of strawberries on his lips and a growing confusion.

I love you.

He heard that right, a gentle whisper against his mouth. You said it, this time you said it for sure, this time he was sure the words actually were spoken, not read between lines.

“Sit down, Satoru, eat your breakfast,” you sing-sang happily, as if you didn’t stop the entire globe just now. As if you didn’t just alter the universe he was in, shifting the rhythm of the muscle in his chest permanently. As if you didn’t just tell him you love him.

But he sat down, afraid to not lose his balance and absentmindedly shoved a piece of a pancake into his mouth.

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 2 days

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To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

#platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #yandere x reader #monster reader #gn reader #fem reader #yandere family #parent reader

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gadriezmannsgirl · 11 hours

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Hello 🎶 it's meeeeee 🎼

Buenas, beautiful lady. I want to request something to youuuu (obvio cause I'm in your inbox 😂)

Can you do something inspired on the new smw photoshoot Pedri did 😩🔥🩷 pretty please! Do what you want, go crazy on me 😀❤️

Señorita, you're always bienvenida in my inbox💜✨ Pedri will make me go crazy😭😭 he's so gorgeous I can't even explain how beautiful that man is, dear lord😭!

Warnings: mentions of sexy times, nothing graphic it's safe for everyone to read, Pedri being a lil confident ass, reader being head over heels for Pedri. This probably doesn't make any sense💀😭 and sorry in advance if it doesn't, it's been a while since I've written something😭

Tease -P.G8

Summary: He said he wasn't feeling confident about the shoot, the results show the opposite.

"C'mon, amor. You'll look great even if you're wearing a trash suit!"

"You say that because you're my girlfriend"

"No, I say that because I'm a woman with two eyes who know how to appreciate beauty and you, mi amor, have lots of it" Pedri rolled his eyes as you shook your head and fixed the collar of the beige suit.

"I suddenly don't want to do this" He sighs "I enjoy being more in a sweatshirt and joggers"

"I know you do and you will be in sweatshirts and joggers once again when this shoot it's done, it'll be quick"

"Not quick enough"

"What will you do when you're getting your wedding suit done?"

"Wait for you to get your wedding dress done so we can marry?" You smile at him.

"Well played" He laughed softly "But let me tell you that I actually enjoy seeing you in suits, it's not often I get to see you like that, you look incredibly handsome and more mature, like a CEO... and it makes me wanna jump all over you" You state wrapping your arms around his neck, a smirk came up to your boyfriend's face and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I don't need to be in suits for you to do that" You blush and laugh.

"True. You breathe and I'm all crazy for you, González" He laughs pecking your lips a few times.

"C'mon, let's go"

"Thought you didn't wanted to do the photoshoot right away?"

"I want to get home, my girlfriend said she wants to jump all over me, I'm never passing up those chances" He winked at you while he left the room leaving you giggly and running behind him to catch him.

"Pedri, I'll need you to act confident, move around, own the shoot" The photographer said getting ready behind his camera

"I think I can do that"

"¿Qué crees? Venga mi amor, tú puedes. Vamos, con confianza" (You think? C'mon, mi amor, you can. C'mon, confidence)

And with confidence he did it. It was only a few days later when you found yourself screaming all over your house after seeing his latest IG post.

"¿Qué pasa, preciosa? ¿Todo bien? ¿Por qué el grito?" (What's wrong, precious? Is everything okay? Why the scream?)

"¿Eres tonto?" (Are you stupid?)

"¿Disculpa?" (Excuse me?)

"¿Cómo te atreves a subir fotos de ese estilo sin avisarme?" (How dare you upload photos like that without telling me?) You looked at him in disbelief "Don't you think my ovaries will explode after watching this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can we have your tux for our wedding done in this color? You look absolutely gorgeous-ah! oh dear god! your hair, your face, your eyes, your eyebrows... your hands! I never knew your wrist would look so good with a simple watch!"

"Y/N, can you calm down and explain to me what is going on?"

"How do you want me to calm down with you dropping these pictures?" You show your phone screen for the first time to him "I really want to have your babies, right now, Pedro González López"

Reality hit him and he started laughing. You. His girlfriend were fangirling over him.

"We can practice for them"

"How do you look so beautiful every day, every time, every second? Like... You don't get tired of it? Amor, I don't really understand what were you nervous about! I'm so lucky to have you as my boyfriend, I get to have you, all of you! ¡Dude, buah!" You let go of your phone letting it fall on the carpet still looking at Pedri "You're so pretty, I love you so much"

Pedri was blushing and his giggles were the only thing you were hearing "I love you too" He said wrapping his arms around you

"How can you be so hot and so cute at the same time?" You asked with a smile on "It's not possible"

"Welcome to the club, I have to deal every day with you being cute and sexy at the same time" You kissed his lips.

He was perfect.

"You knew what you were doing, right?" You asked after a bit of silence.

"I mean... I didn't know it would have this effect on you but I definitely need to keep doing photoshoots in suits"

"You little bastard-"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviymarcsbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl writes!#pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri blurb #pedri icons #pedri gonzalez icons #pedri gonzalez blurb #pedri fluff #football players x reader #football players fanfic #football imagines #pedri #gadriezmannsgirl replies

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pretty-little-mind33 · 14 hours

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Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine is infatuated with you and when you happen to be at the same hotel he's in, his need for you grows.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: swearing, kinky, masturbation (m & f), praise, degradation, fingering, penetration (f using a dildo), no actual penetrative sex, exhibitionism, pet names, Tangerine feels shame at times, mentions of corruption, kinda innocent!reader, it's implied reader has long-ish hair.

~ this idea was stuck in my head for SO long 🫣 ~

Tangerine knows it isn't entirely moral—watching some pretty girl play with herself on camera and donating money. It's filthy and if he's honest, that really only makes the entire situation so much more of a turn-on.

"The fuck ya want your own room for?" Lemon deadpans, staring at his brother like he's insane. "Ts' wasting money! C'mon, I don't snore that loudly!"

Tangerine looks at the poor woman working the front desk and then he turns to Lemon. His expression is blank. "You do snore," he says simply and then slides the woman his shiny, golden card. Lemon rolls his eyes so far it looks almost painful and he sulks. He hits Tangerine in the shin with his boot, which causes the taller man to hiss in pain.

"Perv," Lemon whispers with a smirk. His brother's reasons for wanting a separate room aren't lost on him.

"Piss off," Tangerine mouths, his eyes dark as the woman puts his card information into the computer.

"You could use the bathroom, you know—like a normal fuckin' person." Lemon grumbles in annoyance. It's Tangerine's turn to roll his eyes and when the woman hands him his card, he takes his suitcase and wordlessly walks to the elevator.

Once he's in his room, he discards his coat and walks to the bathroom to wash up. He checks his watch; he has ten minutes to spare. He looks at the cheap motel bed from the open bathroom door and his eyebrows crease.

It doesn't look comfortable—but it should do.

Tangerine then turns to look at himself in the mirror and prays that whatever God is up there forgives him for the sins he's going to commit. He walks out in only a pair of boxers and props up his laptop on some pillows as he grumbles and shifts to find the most comfortable position.

His cheeks are flushed crimson and his lips are thinned into a line. This is humiliating, he thinks, this little ritual he has for himself every Thursday evening. He can't help himself. You're just so pretty—so tempting and so lovely.

Tangerine's fingers dance over his keyboard as they had done a thousand times. He finds the link and an all-too-familiar screen pops up. However, this time, your decor is drastically different and it causes his heart to pound as he shifts.

Immediately, he recognizes that sandy-colored wallpaper and the mahogany headboard behind you. He turns around and sees his own.

No way.

He's distracted by the way you shift on the screen, your hands nestled in between your stubble thighs as your hair falls over your shoulders. You're dressed in a white lingerie dress, the one that makes your tits look amazing and you shift the camera up and he sees your face. Tangerine's chest tightens and his boxers already feel three sizes too small.

Fuck.

Tangerine drops his head against the headboard, squeezing his eyes shut to suppress all kinds of emotions he's feeling until he hears your smooth voice. "Sorry for the background change," you giggle, moving your laptop again, and Tangerine opens his eyes to see how flushed you look. "Business has taken me elsewhere for this week," you joke and he chuckles.

A surge of possessiveness courses his veins as he imagines other men laughing at your joke. Hearing your voice and seeing you like this. It drives him insane.

"Alright, for tonight, I think I want to use this," you say and hold up a vibrating pink dildo. It causes Tangerine a heart attack and he inhales, his hand already itching to relieve the tension in his dick. He curses himself and focuses on listening to your voice, "What do you think?" you ask the camera, biting down on your lip.

Usually, Tangerine would jump at the opportunity to answer you in the chat, or he'd already send in a tip, but tonight he can barely form coherent thoughts much less focus on typing.

You read out some answers, spreading your thighs so the camera has access to your pussy. Tangerine's dick twitches and he mutters a quick, "Fuck," and then presses his palm into his dick, content with the pressure for the time being as he doesn't want to rush this.

He stares at the screen, his chest heaving, as he sees you tentatively press the dildo to your lips, your eyes wide for the camera. "Just like this?" you whisper innocently, clearly answering what the chat wants. Tangerine doesn't bother reading the comments. Instead, he pretends it's just you and him. You lick your tongue up the dildo and he grips his cock over his boxers. He's fully hard now.

His mind is filled with questions and images. He wonders what motel room you're in. If you're close or far from him? He wonders if you'd let him fuck you on camera if he found you? Make it into some corrupt game, with you being his prize in the end.

Tangerine pulls his dick from his boxers, spitting in his hand and then stroking once—twice. He grunts, staring at how you suck around the dildo, your cheeks are flushed and you have that gone look in your eyes. He imagines how you'd look under him, staring up at him with that very same expression, your pink pouty lips just begging for his fucking cock.

"Oh, please, fuck me," he hears you say, his hands tightening around his dick as he fucks into his hand with more desperation. "I wish it was your cock," you whimper, addressing all your viewers but Tangerine takes the invitation personally as he moans and his movement becomes faster and faster.

You look so desperate and needy, so pretty and innocent for him and only him as the vibrations from the dildo hum from his laptop and your movements become a little sloppy. You're moaning, your eyes squeezed shut as more comments roll in.

Tangerine scoffs at them. These men don't know how to speak to women, he thinks, biting his lip as he shifts and holds his dick tightly. You deserve someone who can compliment you correctly.

As if timed, when he presses send on his comment, your eyes flutter open and you look at the chat. Tangerine grunts as he pulls at his cock, catching some pre-cum on his thumb, watching your glossy, bliss-filled eyes light up even more as you read his comment. He knows it's his because you add pressure to your clit with your other hand.

"Caress that pretty clit for me, angel. You deserve it,"

You like being told what to do. Almost none of your regular viewers have caught on like he has. They're too preoccupied with their dirty talk and their pleasure to notice how much you respond to praise. Tangerine grins, your pleasure intensifying his own as you moan loudly, the pressure feeling heavenly.

He watches with rapt attention as the vibrating dildo enters your slick hole, the camera placed perfectly for his enjoyment, as your moans fill his ears and your wetness travels down your thighs.

God, all he wants is to press his face in between them, kissing you exactly how you deserve, and having your hand pull at his hair like they squeeze this shitty motel's sheets.

He craves it.

He wants to cum but he wants to cum with you so as his hand works his cock, he pays attention to your expressions. He knows them all by now. He's always been observant.

Once you bring your lower lip in between your teeth and arch your back, your thighs trembling and your movements faltering, Tangerine knows you've come and with a moan, he allows himself to finish all over his hand and thighs. It's exhilarating, watching you come and doing it with you.

His chest is heaving up, his skin glistening with sweat and shame. He feels the stickiness on his hand and he watches with lidded eyes as you shift and bring the cum covered dildo to your mouth.

Tangerine groans again, his heart beating loudly in his ear. He comes to just in time to stumble for his laptop and leave a generous well-deserved tip.

Your eyes turn to your screen as you're about to go offline and he swears he sees you smile at his note that accompanies the payment.

"800£ - for my angel,"

Tangerine leans back on the pillows as his screen turns black and your home screen appears. Sometimes he wishes he wasn't anonymous and that you'd know it's him from something other than the recurring pet name he calls you. Fuck. He runs a hand down his jaw and fully comes down from his high.

He needs a shower.

* * *

The next morning, Lemon is waiting for him in the lobby. He's leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he sucks in his breath. Unlike his brother, who walks over with that familiar frown, Lemon looks well-rested. "Well, who took a shit in your cuppa this morning', sunshine?" he scoffs as he uncrosses his arms and pushes himself off the wall.

Tangerine jaw clenches. "Shove it," he grumbles and rubs his temples.

"C'mon! Isn't wanking off supposed to help with your shitty mood—" Lemon chuckles but the look Tangerine gives him makes him shut his mouth and raise his hand in surrender.

He turns to the front desk and adds, "Been wanting to check out since 6 fuckin' am—but this bird is having some trouble paying. It's real fuckin' annoying."

Tangerine looks to the desk and his heart jumps in his chest. He feels like someone has just punched him in the gut and stomped all over his heart. He sees your profile, your hair spilling down a little messily.

His eyes travel downwards to the curve of your breasts in your cream cardigan and how your calves peek out from underneath your long-flowing skirt.

You're gorgeous, and oh so very upset.

Without a word to Lemon, Tangerine walks over and catches bits of your conversation with the woman at the desk as you try to hand her your credit card.

God, his dick twitches at the sound of your voice and he has to control himself from reaching out his hand to touch you.

"I promise it worked just yesterday," you plead, your voice shaky in a way that breaks Tangerine's heart, but the woman isn't having your excuses.

In very dramatic fashion, he swoops in like a devilish white knight and hands the woman his card. You jump at the sensation of someone's warmth next to you and look up, cheeks warm as you open your mouth to protest the heroic gesture but Tangerine speaks instead,

"Don't ya worry, I'll take care of it, angel."

Time stands still as he looks into your eyes, a small smirk creeping up his lips. His blue eyes twinkle as his boldness surprised even himself and he wonders if you'll understand. He sees confusion cross your face and then when realization dawns, your eyes round and he expects maybe a shy gasp or even a smack in the face.

Instead you smile sweetly and his heart leaps so far it threatens to run away.

Smart fuckin' girl.

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yuri-for-businesswomen · 4 months

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barely lukewarm take of the century

#we know… women are oppressed for all these characterists too #and on top by misogyny #for every man of color there is a woman of color #for every disabled man there is a disabled woman he holds powrr over #etc #please im begging just come out and say you dont think misogyny is an issue and that feminism only serves white able bodied non jewish #straight rich women #they are becoming a regular on this blog though congratulations #running champion of shit talking

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sweetest-honeybee · 8 months

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Some people do kinda suck but I find a lot of joy in giving people really specifics compliments at my job and it makes their whole day sometimes c: 💛

#I had a very enthusiastic conversation about a lady’s hair and the way it was cut #she cut it herself!#I often like to tell some women that their purse is very nice and they’re usually very proud of their purses I’ve found #I will tell some people sometimes that the color of their shirt is so fitting for their skin tone and was a great choice that day #I expressed once to a customer that I loved the prints of his shirts and he came by one day in this one particular shirt #hoping I’d be there apparently because he wanted me to see the shirt because I love his style!#it’s so nice #I had a lady blushing once from head to toe because I said she looks like the perfect example of a woman #that face every artist draws for that reference #she was so beautiful #haha I like compliments on men’s facial hair too!#they’re proud of their facial hair a lot of the time #even soemthing as simple as they look amazing for their age which I’ve said many many times #like I said some people suck and I have yet to truly meet the bad eggs but man I just really like seeing them light up #when you compliment the littlest things they put hardly any effort into and think maybe nobody will even notice #I like pointing out those things

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stellerssong · 2 months

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ok sorry the OTHER thing about lucienne is like. as previously stated she is dream's handpicked emissary from the waking world to the dreaming she's the diplomat in chief she's the translator she's the bridge. because the dreaming is, in a very real way, dream's own psyche, this is tantamount to giving lucienne a tremendous degree of access to his interiority and by transitive property also tantamount to entering into a deeply emotionally intimate relationship with her (unimportant for the purposes of this post whether that relationship is platonic or romantic).

now, in general, looking at the pattern of dream's close emotional relationships—dream doesn't share himself with people as a rule (beyond the access that all things that live have to the dreaming; but i'm talking about his self here, the one he doesn't like to acknowledge he even has), but when he does share with people, it's with people who have some shadow on the soul, so to speak. just looking at attested relationships in show canon, his deepest emotional connection seems to be with death, who embodies the duality of light and dark even better than he does himself. calliope is the muse of epic poetry—heroism and tragedy—and also bears the sort of divine pride that led her to cut dream off for hundreds or thousands of years when he wronged her. the less said about that other guy, the better, but he's no sunshine-rainbows-unicorns type—he's a soldier of fortune, a bandit and a killer, a man who profits from the sale of human life. even best bird matthew, in comix canon, had a sordid past that will maybe be partially retconned for the show but has still been gestured at.

dream likes the complicated ones. he's drawn to them. they speak to something in him that he won't acknowledge in himself (he has to be Whole, fully integrated, without reservation, because he is the king and he is the dreaming and if the dreaming ain't whole then the universe is in trouble—but he feels that ache nonetheless).

all that is to say: when people try to portray lucienne as dream's Designated Well-Adjusted Neurotypical Friend, i begin to harm and maim.

#chatter #as usual there is a larger pattern of behavior around this post that has been making me crazy for some time #it's the ''holder of the braincell'' trope but it's also just like the flattening of female characters of color in every possible dimension #so many people are terrified. TERRIFIED. to imagine a woman of color's pain #because the demands of shallow progressivism are such that they require you to acknowledge that A Black Woman Has Suffered More #Than Anyone Else Ever In The History Of The World Ever; Because Of Racism #but the demands of wider fandom are such that they require you to buy into the concept that A White Man's Suffering #Is The Only Suffering Worthy Of Care Attention Or Interest.#can't handle the dichotomy so instead they create the imago of a Black woman who has never suffered anything ever #she cannot be mentally ill; she cannot be disabled; if she is queer then it is in a way that is wholly self-contained and complete #and not ambiguous or in flux in any way; and most important of ALL she can never have experienced racism.#because racism As We Know is the worst form of suffering. so if she'd suffered racism then that would make her more worthy of #compassion than White Guy No. 37. which must not be #the very idea that lucienne is simply at peace with herself and the dreaming with no further complication.......like!#WOMEN OF COLOR ARE NEVER AFFORDED THAT KIND OF CERTAINTY. ARE YOU STUPID.#and by the way being reserved/calm/unassuming/practical are NOT absolute indicators of mental wellness.#y'all can see this when it's a white guy what is your fucking DAMAGE when it comes to women of color.#OPEN YOUR EYES. USE YOUR POWERS OF DEDUCTIVE REASONING. DREAM DIDN'T CHOOSE HER TO BE HIS THERAPIST.#DREAM CHOSE HER BECAUSE; PRESUMABLY; SHE ACHES. SHE CONTRADICTS. SHE GRAPPLES WITH THE SHADOW ON THE MIND.#SOMETHING IN HIM SEES A KINDRED SOUL IN HER. WAKE UP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

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