#ignore that horrible outfit they forced on you

[daerani]

Hino-san, what happened to you?...

Now we know....

that little snore though! :D I was happy to finally meet him, poor guy though. I didn't expect that voice also.

Why devs never let us contact Goro about Hideshi??? Not even a single message to say hi.... All major and minor NPCs got lines, but Goro ( not counting that end video call ). I really wanted to tease Goro about Hideshi and his possible work opportunities.... His reaction would have been priceless!!!!

[thesassypadawan]

Beloved Master (Unburnt Darth Vader x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a traumatic series of events, you find yourself being held captive by the sith lord known as Darth Vader. Alone and unarmed, you wish so badly for your beloved master to be here with you. Be careful of what you wish for.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.Size difference, hint of a breeding kink, and Vader’s big dick. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes:  The 'What If' Version: Beloved Master *Fragmented*

This is a non-burnt Vader fic.  Everything is still intact and has been ‘enhanced’ by the dark side of the force.

“Now behave yourself, jedi, the lord will be with you shortly.” The male attendant sneered, taking great joy in your current predicament.

Standing there, wearing nearly nothing; you tried your best to maintain what little dignity you had left. You gave him a small nod and muttered a quick thanks, before stepping inside the room.

“Try not to have too much fun,” he chuckled darkly and closed the door behind him.

Hearing the locks hiss into place, you began to reflect on the events that led up to this moment.

It had only been a few nights ago that you stood in the temple’s meditation garden. Waiting patiently for your beloved master to return from an ‘emergency meeting’. When your private comlink was hailed, his voice ringing out from it. “Run. Run swiftly. Run to me.”

Everything was fragmented and hazy after that.

The night sky was orange. There were cries of agony and pain all around you. The temple, your home, was engulfed in flames.

You felt utterly hopeless. Worried horribly about your master. Completely devastated at the thought of not saying those words to him one last time.

You tried to run, but someone tugged hard on your arm. Yelling at you to come with them, to ignore his call. Something happened to that someone in a blaze of blue light.

You were no longer being pulled, but carried away from the chaos. Being whispered to that it was ‘all going to be okay, you’re safe’.

That’s when your whole world went dark.

When you awoke, you found yourself locked up in a holding cell. Dressed in the most ridiculous outfit you have ever seen. One that left very little to the imagination.

You did not remain there long. Soon after, the male attendant had arrived. He, along with a pair of clone troopers, then escorted you swiftly to their lord’s private quarters. Apparently, this Vader fellow wanted to have an audience with you rather badly.

It was with this grim thought in mind that the weight of your situation truly set in.

You were alone. Stuck on an unknown planet, which you could feel was entirely encompassed in the dark side of the force. You were without your saber, it’s comforting presence no longer hanging from your hip. And, most gravely, you were about to presumably meet a sith lord.

Scanning your surroundings, you hoped to find something you could possibly use to defend yourself. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the lavish bed chamber that would provide much help.

You heard the door behind you slide open and then close.

Swallowing hard, you tried to compose yourself. Your master had always said to keep your wits about you when facing down an enemy. To stay centered within the force. To keep your mind clear.

How you so wished he was here with you now.

“I am, padawan of mine.”

Your eyes grew wide. “Master?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Is that really you?”

Not waiting for an answer, you quickly whirled around. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over you. Standing before you, a gentle smile on his face, was…

“It’s me”, Anakin muttered.

Without a second thought you ran to him. And he easily scooped you up into his strong arms.

Burying your face into his tunic; you finally let the hot tears flow free. “Ani, it was horrible!” You sobbed softly.

Stroking your hair, he gently swayed back and forth with you. “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s all over.”

You squeezed him tight and whimpered. “I thought I had lost you.”

“Hey, look at me.” Hooking two fingers under your chin, he tilted your face upwards. “We’re never going to lose each other.”

Placing his hand on your cheek, he wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “I made sure that we will always be together…no matter what,” he said malevolently.

Hearing his tone, it was as if you were suddenly released from sort of spell. Anakin was no longer the same, in oh so many ways.

His entire form had changed. He once only stood a head and a half taller, and now he absolutely dwarfed you. His hands were huge. His muscles blown enormous. He looked like an absolute beast, with yellow eyes and a heavy dark aura to match.

Maker, help you. He was the sith lord and you were finding it hard to resist him.

“Ani,” you spoke slowly, reaching to place a tiny hand on his chiseled chest. “What have you done?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, angel,” he replied nonchalantly. “I did what was necessary.”

Tightening his arm around your waist, he somehow pulled you in even closer. “You should be more worried about what I’m going to do to you in that outfit,” he whispered huskily.

A small squeak escaped you as you were suddenly swept off your feet and whisked over to the bed.

Trapped underneath him, it truly sunk in how utterly massive he had become…and how tiny you were in comparison. You shivered at the thought. Whether it was from fear or excitement, you weren’t quite sure.

“What is it, padawan?” He chuckled, hovering above menacingly. “Afraid of your master?”

You shuddered once more as Anakin brushed his clothed length against your inner thigh. Stars, he felt gigantic. “No, master,” you whimpered.

A wide grin spread across his handsome face. “Good, because this is where the fun begins.”

He crashed his lips into yours. The kiss was hungry and passionate. The kind that made you wrap your arms around his thick neck and desperately pulled him closer, deepening it.

You could hear a rumble of approval in his chest. The sound causes a warmth to spread throughout your entire body.

Parting for air, Anakin gave you a mischievous look before burying his face into your neck. He kissed and bit at the sensitive flesh. Making you purr. Marking you as his for all to see.

His hand, all the while, lazily slid down your form. Coming to rest on your breast, he cupped and gave it a firm squeeze. Eliciting a soft moan from you.

“I love the sounds you make for me,” he muttered against your skin.

“Ani,” you mewled, hands tangling in his golden curls.

“I wonder,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your body. “What kind you’ll make when I do this?”

“Kriff!” You cried out as his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. Sucking and nibbling at it through the paper-thin fabric. Causing your back to arch, your hips glancing one another in a fiery touch. You both groaned.

“Or better yet,” he whispered, sitting back on his legs. “What delicious sound will escape you when I do this?” With the wave of his two fingers, Anakin used the force to…

You let out a frightened squeal as the meager clothes were torn from your form. Instinctively you tried to cover yourself up with your hands, but he easily captured them in his much large one.

Pinning your arms above your head, he playfully scolded. “Now, now, don’t be shy. Let me see that beautiful body, little one.”

That name, it made you shiver. You could feel the dampness and you both knew it had shot straight to your soaking core.

“Oh? You liked that didn’t you?” He taunted, running his other big hand up and down your leg.

Wriggling beneath him, your cheeks burned hot. “I-I did, master,” you replied weakly.

He laughed darkly at your embarrassment and gave your hip a firm squeeze. “Tell me, tiny padawan of mine, what else would you like?”

“Your cock,” you whimpered. “I would like your cock inside of me.”

“Are you sure about that?” He mocked, flashing you a smirk.

Anakin used the force once more. This time removing his own clothes. Revealing…

Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry. He was absolutely massive, a true monster. And yet, you wanted him oh so badly.

“Please!” You begged; your voice laced with need. “Want it!”

“I don’t know.” He laid his heavy cock on your pussy, dragging it slowly between your folds. “You were barely able to take me before I became like this. Aren’t you afraid of what will happen now?”

You moaned softly as you found yourself slipping into a haze. “Don’t care! Need it!”

Suddenly, he removed all friction. You were about to whine in protest, until you felt him lining himself up with your entrance.

“All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In a single, fluid motion, he pushed inside of you.

The two of hissed together, as you took every thick inch.

“So tight,” he growled as he bottomed out.

“So big,” you mewled. Relishing how full it made you feel. How his tip was dangerously pressed against your cervix.

Hiking your thighs onto his hips, he snaps them forward. Pounding into you at a brutal pace. Giving you no time to adjust to his colossal size.

“A-Ani…” You slurred, eyes going crossed from the stretch. “S-So big, An-Ani…”

He groaned at seeing your tummy bulge every time he thrusted back into you. “Yes, so big and yet your tiny cunt is taking me so well. Tell me, hatari, how much do you love it?”

You could feel the heat beginning to build in your core, tugging at you. “I love it! Love it so much!”

“Needy little thing,” he grunted. “Be a good girl now, let me into that perfect womb of yours. Going to fill you up so full. Going to make you heavy with the heir to my new empire.”

“M-Master…” You could barely form a sentence; you were so overwhelmed.

With a few more deep thrusts, he breached past the tight rim. Getting exactly what he wanted. “That’s it, that’s my sweet padawan,” he cooed.

You could feel the tears of ecstasy running down your cheeks. Your pussy clenching around him from the extra stretch. You were so painfully close and Anakin could tell.

“Let go,” he panted. “We’ll cum together, just like always.”

You went crashing over the edge. Mind blanking as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

His cock twitched inside of you. Filling you to the brim and beyond with his seed. Making your stomach round.

Catching your breath. Smiling warmly at one another. You both basked in the afterglow of it all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, still buried deep within you. Anakin placed a tender kiss on your forehead and whispered. “I love you. You’re going to look so beautiful carrying our child, my empress.”

A cold chill ran through you as you came back down from your high. You knew you should be terrified. That you should be distraught over the events that led up to this.

But as you gazed up into those yellow eyes…none of that mattered anymore. All that did was you being right by his side.

“I love you too, Lord Vader.”

[ellecdc]

Hi!! I saw your requests were open and I’d love to take a shot with one!

So I have a partner that I’ve been with for almost a year and it wasn’t until the last few months that I’ve realized how toxic and horrible the relationship is. So- I was hoping that I could request a poly!marauders x reader (starting platonic and then romantic?) and reader has a partner that’s really toxic and the boys help the reader figure out how to break up and take care of herself (or themself/himself!) and then once the reader and the partner break up, the marauders take care of reader and then eventually admitting their love to reader and etc etc etc you take away the rest!!! Thank you so much!!!!!! I love love love your work!!!!!!

ok first of all: if you haven't already, please dump them? they're not worth it babes. if it costs you your peace - it's too expensive thank you for your request; hope you love it <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: brief mention of previously toxic relationship, grief over end of relationship

You knew this was for the best, but it didn't make it any less painful.

It'd been about a month and a half since you and your...ex broke up, and exactly 12 days to the minute of no contact. Your mind was still reeling from the previous few weeks since you'd decided to finally end things before you finally blocked their number.

It proved to you that you had done the right thing; they were not good for you, and they're behaviour only proved that.

So why did you still feel so incredibly wrong?

You felt a mixture of things. Overwhelming grief at not only the loss of someone that was a huge part of your life, but also grief over the loss of everything you ever hoped your life would be with that person.

You also felt guilty; guilty for ending things (even though it was the right thing to do), guilty for spending so long trying to force a relationship that wasn't meant to last, and guilty for falling in love with the potential that someone had - which only left both of you disappointed.

It was probably overkill to have turned your phone off completely, but after blocking their number, you couldn't help but jump every time your phone went off - thinking, hoping, dreading that it might be your ex. You also couldn't handle scrolling through instagram to see all of your other friends, happy, smiling, in love, and not feeling like their world was falling to pieces.

Your pity party was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. You were considering ignoring it when a less gentle knock followed which you recognized to be Sirius'.

"You don't have to bang, Sirius." You could hear James chide quietly as you unlocked and swung the door open.

The somewhat terse conversation ended abruptly as the three figures beamed at you: James widely, Remus kindly, and Sirius cheekily.

"Well hello, gorgeous!" Sirius cheered at you as he pulled you into a quick embrace.

"Uh, hi!" You said back, though your voice sounded higher than usual. When was the last time you'd used it?

"Mind if we come in?" Remus asked gently before James and Sirius were shouldering their ways into your apartment anyway.

"Uhm, yeah. Sure." You said as you followed them in.

James pulled you into his side as Sirius made himself at home on your couch and Remus sat at your kitchen table. "How've you been, sweetheart?" He asked.

You blushed at the nickname and ducked your chin to your chest. "I'm alright, James. How have you guys been?"

"Miserable." Sirius answered immediately. "Completely miserable without our favourite girl around. It's been too long."

"You don't have to apologize," Remus interjected as you began to defend yourself. "We just wanted to check in, that's all."

You smiled at the three boys, suddenly very self-conscious of your apartment and your outfit - neither of which had been tidied nor changed in the last few days.

"Come sit with me." Sirius said as he patted the couch beside him and then opened his arm for you to sit under.

You moved towards him obediently and he quickly pulled you in tight to his side and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"So, what can we do? Can I help you tidy?" Remus asked enthusiastically.

You immediately shook your head no as your eyes widened in horror. "Absolutely not, no. Thank you, but honestly, I'm fine."

Sirius groaned as he leaned to whisper into your ear conspiratorially, you startled and turned to face him, only to have your noses centimetres apart.

"Listen, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret: Rem here has been just sick with worry, and it would really make him feel better if you let him feel like he's helping you." He stage whispered as he motioned toward the said worried boy with his head.

Had you not been so shocked by the lack of distance between you and Sirius, you may have seen Remus gently roll his eyes at Sirius' theatrics.

"Help the poor sod out, give him something to do." He encouraged you with a salacious wink.

"I, uhm... I guess I've been meaning to catch up on the dishes?" You stated as a question, grimacing at the days worth of dishes in your sink.

Remus jumped up happily throwing a "Got it!" over his shoulder.

"What about me, gorgeous? Anything I can do? Maybe laundry?" James asked eagerly.

"You are not doing my laundry, James." You answered bluntly.

"Got it, got it. Okay, maybe I can clean your bathroom?"

Somehow, that was worse.

"Okay, you can do my laundry." You acquiesced.

James whooped, actually whooped, like a cartoon character before he started down the hallway he knew lead to your bedroom.

"See? Look how happy you made them." Sirius said as he kneaded at the flesh of your thigh with his hand.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's your job?" You asked.

You suddenly felt like it was the wrong question when Sirius' grin grew exponentially. "Oh, I get to sit here with my favourite girl."

"We're taking turns, Pads!" James called from down the hallway.

"Semantics." Sirius muttered before he turned his attention back to you.

"Listen; I won't make you talk about this if you don't want to, but I need you to know that we're here for you, alright? Like really, really here for you; whatever you need. I know you've probably convinced yourself that you're all alone and unloved. But we need you to know that's not true. You're not unloved, never could be; not with us around."

Your sinuses filled painfully behind your eyes as you moved to hide your face into Sirius' shoulder.

"What did you do?" Remus asked Sirius, sounding (gently) horrified.

"Just told her we loved her."

James came out of your room at Remus' concerned tones. "We're supposed to be making her feel better, Pads." He sighed.

"You are." You muttered from your place in Sirius' shoulder.

It was true; you had convinced yourself you were all alone and completely unloveable. If even your ex couldn't manage to love you, how would anyone else?

But with Sirius' arms around your shoulder and his lips pressed into your hair, James coming up behind you two and giving your hand a comforting squeeze, and Remus running to put a pot of tea on for the lot of you like that might be what stitches your heart back together; you certainly felt loved.

[yuri-is-online]

Plead the Fifth (Riddle, Floyd, Azul, Jack, Lilia, and Ace x Yuu)

Summer vacation is all fun and games until someone asks you to be honest with yourself. Unfortunately for Yuu, they got dragged to the beach by some "friends" and are getting a big old dose of heat stroke, just not from a source they want to confess to outside of a court.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, no spoilers for Lost in the Book with Stitch this is just about their summer outfits. Vague tsundere vibes from Yuu, Yuu is implied to be physically strong, Floyd knows he's hot and has a bone to pick from Portfest, also he's a red flag have I mentioned that before? Azul is only mildly possessive don't worry about it ♡. Mild suggestiveness all around, but I don't think it's too much. Feel free to check out my more serious work on my masterlist.

Riddle

"Seriously!" Riddle's cheeks are puffed in annoyance, and you have an uncomfortably close view. Not that you don't like looking at Riddle, quite the opposite, it's just hard to look at him... properly when he's fussing over your injured hand. "You would think that such a highly recommended resort would have better quality glasses." You don't know if you should be relieved or insulted Riddle believes it's cheap glass and not your raw strength responsible for the glass shards stuck in your hand. You flex it uncertainly, and he stares you into stillness. It's hard to focus with him so close, hard to breathe even. How Riddle hasn't noticed how beautiful he is normally is beyond you, but with how carefree he's been, staring out at the ocean and happily bringing you to see every unique shell he can identify, there is no way he can't at least sense how you look at him. It's just too much, and you find yourself pulling away worried he will find you disgusting.

But that's not what Riddle sees. He sees someone he cares for refusing to let him help. He certainly does not see someone who is nervously infatuated with him attempting to soothe their heart rate, otherwise he wouldn't have the nerve to continue being strict.

"Just where do you think you're going?" If he could collar you, he would, but instead he has to satisfy himself with yanking your shirt to keep you from struggling away. "Don't move, that's a direct order, prefect." You wheeze and Riddle decides to politely ignore your struggles, instead focusing on the weight of your hand in his with a smug sense of satisfaction. He is useful to you isn't he? So let him monopolize your attention for just a little longer.

Floyd

"Oooh Little Shrimpy~" You want to die. You probably are going to, Floyd has never been so close to your face without pinning your back to a wall, you would be stupid not to see it as a threat to squeeze. "You better not be thinkin' about callin' me adorable that'd really piss me off." You swallow. Or at least try to, you are horribly painfully aware that he has chosen to pick this fight just off the boardwalk meaning everyone can see your little spat and how little you have been looking at his eyes. Floyd can too, it's been sending a vaguely exciting shudder up and down his spine all day. He knows every dip and curve along his chest your eyes have followed, every lingering stare at his flexing shoulders, it's like you want to eat him for a change. He found that electrifying.

Or at least he had, but this little dance was starting to get boring.

What sort of predator never makes a move after setting the mood? He had tried telling himself he should be patient, shrimps aren't predators. Maybe Yuu needed extra time to set up their attack, he could work with that, maybe leave a few openings. But he was starting to run out of buttons to undo on his shirt and he really didn't want to ditch the sunglasses or beads just yet. He had been such a good patient eel, so why weren't you jumping on him already?

"I don't think-" You force yourself to look up at Floyd's eyes instead of his chest and your brain immediately fries. "I mean that isn't to say-" He glares at you and you try to wrack your brain for what compliment he could possibly want out of you. There is no way Floyd Leech is going to these lengths to try and get you to call him cool.

"Y'know, it's really rude to not answer your seniors shrimpy." Floyd draws himself up to his full height, with an oddly solemn look. "You're usually such a well-behaved little shrimp, is somethin wrong? You know if somethings wrong you had probably better tell me or Azul's gonna have to call the Headmage."

"It's because you're too hot ok! I cant focus on what you're saying because I keep looking at your fucking chest! Happ-" You can't get your compliment out before he's squeezed you into his chest and started shaking you around like a rag doll, squealing something about how hunting isn't that hard and he knew you could do it.

There's no way you were ever the one on the prowl here.

Azul

This isn't a date. Nothing about this is meant to be romantic, you are having a "purely platonic at best but lets be real this is probably for business" drink with Azul at the tacky (his words not yours) poolside bar. "I wouldn't have thought about putting a water park next to a beach." He murmers to himself, carefully photographing every angle of his float before sitting down to drink it. "It just sounds redundant." You shrug, idly stirring your own drink.

"You'd be surprised. Some humans really don't like swimming in the ocean." You're the one saying it, so he has no real choice to belive it but it's hard to wrap his head around.

"How is one of these parks safer? They aren't nearly as clean." He thinks that if he ran a place like this, that would be the biggest problem, humans are messy creatures already, but the level of mess he has just casually observed while sitting here with you really makes him wonder just what the actual appeal of this place is. Well, at least just what the appeal was to paying customers, he knew why he wanted to bring you here. Usually, when Azul turns to look at you, you immediately look away from him. But as long as you've been on this little vacation, no matter how many times he's looked your gaze has remained exactly where it should be. He's puffing with pride, looking you over wondering exactly what angle he can press to get you to say what it is you actually are thinking and not whatever cheap jab you have prepared to protect yourself.

You remain none the wiser, stuck staring at Azul and his shirt simultaneously drowning in how attractive you find him and how much it reminds you of a man in his mid fifties who relies on his bank account to make up for his miserable personality.

"See something you like, prefect?" Azul is unbelievably happy, you are tempted to say smug but then he sort of always does. It's the glasses you think as you bite on your straw and hope he doesn't notice how hard it is for you to maintain eye contact. But he does, oh he does, taking advantage of your flustered state to move closer to your side.

"You- you..." Azul is stupidly attractive he has to know that, but you also know he is desperately insecure and don't want to send him into a spiral with your stupid tongue. "You look like a middle-aged dad on his third divorce on vacation trying to doge the tax man." You mutter, trying really hard to sound threatening. It doesn't work, Azul just gives his best put upon sigh as he clucks his tongue in disappointment.

To your great surprise, he moves his hand to tilt your head to look him directly in his bright blue eyes, a similar smile to the one he has while trying to sell you on something directly kicking your heart rate up. He is trying to sell you on himself, you realize...

"How insulting, my dear. You should know better than anyone that no one gets out of a contract with me so easily they'd be able to do it three times." ... and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer. Not that it was the answer you intended to give him in the first place, and oh how happy he is to know that.

Jack

"Honestly! You would think you'd know to be more careful by now." You might as well be talking to a brick wall, Jack's certainly solid enough to pass for one. He still seems to be under the impression that he's fine despite how much of his weight you are supporting. You think he is trying to talk, but the heat has him only babbling nonsense. Reluctantly, he lets you guide him over to a shady patch of trees close to a water fountain before he is well and truly gone.

"This is nothing. I handled the Savana I can take a stupid beach." He mutters as if he his extremely visible chest isn't heaving or rolling with droplets of sweat that other, lesser people have been watching drip from his abs with extreme disrespect.

Not you, though! No, your eyes have been firmly on the spicket on the fountain, determined to soak one of the smaller towels you brought and gently press it to Jack's forehead. Despite his insistence that he's fine, he leans desperately into your cooling touch, tension leaving his shoulders in one deep breath.

Just as all strength leaves yours as he decides to collapse into your lap.

"J-Jack!" You don't know what you want to ask next. Your back is pinned to one of the trees, Jack's head is resting firmly in your lap, but the arm that had been around your shoulder has decided to move around your waist. He growls (growls!) when you gently try to push him off you to try and get him set up in a more comfortable position. "Bad dog." It's all you can think to say and he doesn't seem fazed, if anything you swear he starts holding you closer. There is no way this could get any more embarrassing.

"Mommy, what is that guy doing to his partner? It looks like he's trying to eat them." Never mind yes it could. You make awkward eye contact with a very young mother as you try to silently plead with her that "no, this isn't what it looks like, I swear" as you desperately try to revive Jack with the damp cloth. The young woman looks at you then to her child, clearly trying to hold back her laughter and not doing it very well. She manages to usher him off before he can ask any more pointed questions and you glare down at Jack.

"You're setting such a bad example." You mutter and he lets go of your waist only to cross his arms over his chest and start to snore. Oh he is going to be so embarrassed when he wakes up, assuming he believes half of what you'll have to say.

Lilia

Love and Lilia are old strangers. He knows he can feel it, no matter what ancient denials he might have made, but he finds no matter how long he lives he is no better at recognizing it, no better at knowing what to do with it. There's something ironic about how much of an outlier this chance meeting between you both that makes him feel something akin to apathy. He doesn't think that's quite the right word, but he struggles to better find an explanation for the little knots it ties itself in sometimes.

So Lilia may not know just what this emotion is no, but he knows he likes the way it looks on you.

"Well, prefect? It's rude to stare you know." He says that as if he is not trying to make you, winking just over his sunglasses and striking a pose Cater had shown him on magicam in just a silly enough way that he can pass it off as one of his usual jokes. Your usual denial flutters up on your face, but your heart seems to be beating your brain to your tongue today.

"You look very cute, Lilia." That strange pit is filling with nervous flutters again, but his brain beats his soul to his mouth.

"That's good! I was worried I'd have to spend this vacation in the shadows out of shame." He says, fully aware that you are both currently sat in the shade of a particularly large umbrella precisely because he can't be out in the sun for long, even if that's the purpose of a beach vacation. Speaking of which... "Why don't you go join the others out on the beach, prefect? You helped me with my little errand, you deserve to take a break." He says it much more gently than he'd intended, if it wasn't pointless, he'd keep you here and needle you for more cute reactions. Maybe he would ask you to try on his shirt and demand yours as payment. But that's not fair, that's not life, this connection is destined to be as fleeting as it is precious. The way disappointment and confusion mingle in your eyes tells him you know that too, on some level.

"Calling you cute isn't a chore, but sure, I guess." You tell him something about calling for you if he decides to go somewhere else, and he thinks he promises you only if you do the same, but he doesn't know. He's too focused on the way the sun takes you into it's embrace, taunting everyone but certainly him specifically with just how much you look like you belong out there in the daylight.

But the moon can still observe can't it? In a way that's all he knows how to do.

Ace

You really hate how low your standards are. Who the hell gets all jittery and flustered over a guy in a boater hat? You apparently, Ace has the worst dad on vacation fit you have ever seen, assuming you are politely ignoring Azul. Something that's unfortunately easy for you to do and has led to you paying just that much more attention to Ace.

Or at least that's what you've been trying to tell him while pointedly staring out at the shore. You wish he was too lazy to put things together, but as usual, when there is an inch to tease you over, Ace Trappola will take a mile.

"Admit it, you think I'm hot." He sounds so infuriatingly smug. It makes you want to kiss him but only to shut him up! Not because you like him!

"The only thing hot about you is how full you are of hot air! Seriously, what's up with that bunch of fruit on your shoulder? Why would I find that attractive?" You know it only sounds like you are asking yourself, begging more like, because you really do think he's attractive. It's written all over your face, you might as well scream it with just how flustered you become when finally you decide to look back at him.

"It's ok to admit. It might be self-centered to say, but I really am a catch. Really prefect how did you get so lucky?" Oh he is never going to let you live this down.

"Please, you look like a dead beat dad on his third divorce!" Your voice is unnaturally high, and Ace just laughs off your insult. "Who would be attracted to you!"

"You, duh." He takes your hand and pulls you back towards the beach. "Besides, if I convinced you to marry me twice, I can do it a third time." He winks at you over his shoulder and you stop dead in your tracks, so overwhelmed with annoyed affection and embarrassment it's all you can do to grasp for a come back.

"Was it Duece."

"What?" Ace is momentarily thrown, extremely confused by what he perceives as a change of subject.

"You said you could convince me to marry you a third time, but you're on your third divorce. So when did you leave me for Deuce ?"

"Wait I didn't- you know that's not what I meant!" And yes, technically, you do know that's not what he meant, but you refuse to be the only one embarrassed here. You hope he chokes.

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-1

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Word count: 2,4k

Masterlist

Part 2

Your feet hurt, throbbing in your worn-out sneakers that you’ve owned since your first day at university. Your legs feel like jelly, and not in the good way, in the way where the back of your knees hurt, and the earth’s gravitational pull seems to be so much stronger. You feel like you’re being cooked like the way you’re preparing your sauce. Boiling, bubbling.  

The sweat gathers at the brim of your chef’s hat and the back of your neck. The head chef is screaming at you, again, like he always does. You swear that he gets some sick thrill out of yelling at one. Forcing you to do 15 tasks all at once, while telling you just how horribly you’re doing all of them. Not only that, but you feel like you must think for the other four cooks you work with. 

How you’re not used to it yet, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not cut out for the industry, but you refuse to think of it. That would be your life’s dream down the drain. Not only that but, 20 000 euros down the drain. “Y/N, *il nous faut la sauce pour le jarret d'agneau!” Again, that damn head chef calls and you can feel your frustration burning in the back of your eyes. *We need the sauce for the lamb shank! 

“*J'apporte ta foutue sauce maintenant!” You can’t help but let your anger bubble out. You give the sauce for the cook preparing the lamb, ignoring the fiery glare of the head-chef. “**Je prends ma pause.” You say, throwing your hat and apron on my station, once again ignoring your boss’ threats. You throw the door open, sighing in relief at the fresh air. *I'm bringing your damn sauce now **I’m taking my break.  

You sigh, sitting on the dirty alleyway floor, leaning against the old brick wall. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, take one out, light it and take a deep pull. And as you sit, you can’t but groan as you read the invoice for your rent. You’d been so good on your bills, but then you got sick, again, then the bills started piling up.  

“Fucking hell...” You mutter, rubbing your temples in annoyance. You get a message from your mom, asking how you are and when you’re coming to visit. You avoid it, you can’t face her. Your family all believe you to be this fancy five-star-chef, making it big in the capital of France. You don’t have the guts to tell them of your failure. Or the fact that you’re sitting on a dirty floor, after being verbally abused all day.  

When you were little, you imagined being a princess in a big castle. With lots of gowns and jewels and shoes. You’d use your mom’s old dresses and put on a show. Whenever you’d get hand-me-downs or the new outfit once a year you’d put on a whole show. When people would ask what you want to be when you grow up, you’d always say a model.  

When you got older, late teenage years, you, of course, had to think of something more realistic. And with chef-ing having the easiest job to find and the easiest degree to get, you chose it. Now, you regret it more than anything. Your dreams have been sucked dry and aspirations have little left. At home, you spend your time scrolling through the vogue Instagram, dreaming of the day that someone can do all this adulting for you.  

Out of nowhere, a loud scream is heard. You snap your head up to the direction it came from, after watching the newest runway from Versace. Suddenly a man come barrelling down the alleyway. He keeps glancing over his shoulder in panic and almost fear. His skin is a golden tan colour, and his beautiful dark hair flies as he speeds down the alleyway. He looks ready to to climb into a nearby dumpster before he spots you.  

He seems beyond relieved to see you. And then another scream is heard, and his expression becomes one of alarm. “J'ai besoin...uh...help?” His French is sloppy and mixed with English. But his accent is not one of an American. You cross your arms and lift your brow. “Aide?” You translate his words for him. He nods, glancing to the alleyway entrance again. “Si, si-” very much not French. “Now. Uh...” Then another scream and his urgency grows. “I speak English.” 

This news gives him a massive sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Dios.” He mutters and then his relief turns again to imperativeness. “You to hide me. Now. I can’t tell you why. But you need to hide me. Now. Uh-please.” His dark brown eyes seem frantic, and his accent sends shivers down your spine. You’ve never met someone with this accent, in your whole 23 years of life and something about this intrigues you.

“And why should I, for all I know you could’ve just killed someone!” You reply, standing up and stomping your cigarette out. And yet your firm stand buckles when he gives these big brown eyes, which are filled with fear. “I’ll pay.” Your expression changes almost instantly. At this point you’re ready to do just about anything to get the insurance off your back.  

“Yeah? You like that, cosa bonita? How much, pretty girl?” Then he pulls out his wallet and takes out a stack of hundred-euro bills. “You name the price, doll face. Here, two hundred? But please be quick with your decision.” Never before have you had this opportunity to make money this quickly. And you need to money now more than ever. How can you say no? What’s the harm? If he was a criminal, he would’ve hurt you by now, right? You don’t mutter a word.  

Not to mention the way he uses the pet names don’t seem gross. He’s charismatic, so much so that you hope he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your ears. Not only that but his smile seems almost comforting. Like you could trust him with your drink in a busy club. How far are you willing to go to pay your bills? You grab his warm hand, with the money in, and shove the both of you through the back door.  

“*Je suis malade. Je prends le reste de la journée.” You call out, shoving your chef’s jacket and the rest of your work attire into your bag, all with the man still trailing behind you. “I do like it when a pretty girl like you speaks French. I must thank you, not many girls would usually do something like this.” Suddenly his worried nature turns into a more welcoming, flirty one. *I'm sick. I'm taking the rest of the day off. 

It’s rare that you’re called pretty by an utter stranger. Frozen in place as you stare up at the handsome stow-away. “Where is he?” It’s the same girlish voice as before, the slightly above standard’s restaurant doors slam open. “I must say though, my French isn’t very good. I’m sure you noticed. But I do hope you were telling your manager that we are leaving, no?” He asks and this time blush creeps from your cheeks all the way to your ears.  

“Uh- yes- something like that. Come, we’ll hide in the worker’s bathroom.” You stammer your way through your sentence. Though you regret it the moment you close the bathroom stall. It’s small and barely above regulations, this place is cheap on their worker rights. His chest is pressed up right against yours. His body is so warm, like a nice fire in a winter cabin.  

You know if you were cuddle with him in the cold snowy months, you wouldn’t even need a heater or warm socks. Wait, why are you thinking this? You’ve just met the man! Now you’re already thinking of burrowing yourself closer to him. His big hands stabilize themselves on your waist, trying not to topple over you. And you can’t help but squeeze your thighs together, hoping the handsome man won’t notice.  

At the same time, you wish your hair isn’t tied up, so that you could hide behind that piercing gaze. Especially now that your bodies are pressed against each other in the small bathroom stall. Your hands grow clammy, and you can feel that his eyes are trying to catch yours. Trying to see more of your face and you’re merely hoping the earth would swallow you whole. Feeling inferior to be admired by a man with such heat.   

“I knew coming to France would be fun, but I didn’t expect being so close to such a pretty girl.” He seems entirely too big for the little stall and now you wish they had aircons that the American’s talk about. You too are forced to also steady yourself on his big, hard chest. Those dark unruly brows furrow. “Why are you so quiet now? Earlier you were quite happy to talk, no?” 

Now you’re really blushing. “I assume when you someone like you, pays someone like me, you expect them to keep quiet.” You say avoiding his gaze, this seems to aggravate him. He takes you by the chin and forces you to look at him. His gaze softens when you look up at him through your lashes. But your legs feel like jelly when staring into those chocolate brown eyes.  

“Someone like you? Someone like me? You should watch what you say.” Those dark golden eyes seem to stare right through your insecurities. “Why is that?” His words cause a spark in your mind, you’ve always been jealous of the rich ones. Not only that but the way they look down on you. This causes a smirk on his face, “So the mouse does speak?” You scoff at his words and start staring him down.  

“The mouse does speak, and she’d love to ask why on earth she’s hiding with you in a bathroom stall?” His jaw snaps at your words and this time he looks away. “If I tell you, you might just be another person I need to hide from.” This time it’s your turn to laugh. “Tell me now, or I’m throwing you to the wolves.” He snaps down to look you in the eyes again. “You wouldn’t dare.” You smirk, “Watch me.”  

His hand snaps up and then falls to his side again. Your heart is racing, it’s unlike you to be so daring or disobedient. But something about him makes you feel bold and confident. “Alright, niñita, tell me do you know about the Tifosi?” He asks, mixing his language in between and you can’t help but want to beg to know what he’s calling you 

You shake your head no. “Alright, what about Formula 1?” Again, you shake my head no. He sighs and rubs his head. “Let’s just say I have a few loco, um, crazy fans.” You laugh, full on head back laughing. “Really? You paid me two-hundred euros to hide with you in a bathroom because you have some passionate fans.” Your eyes are twinkling with delight.  

“No, no, no, niñita, you don’t understand. They had scissors! They wanted a piece of my hair!” This causes a flash of fears in his eyes, and he subconsciously rakes his fingers through his luxurious dark hair. You shrug and lift your hand, wiping a strand from his forehead. “I can see why.” It goes quiet then and the both of you can’t help but notice the screaming has died down.  

“Well, if you’d ever like to know more about someone like me-” He sends you a wink and then grabs your phone from your back pocket. He shows you the lock screen and you roll your eyes but give in and open the phone. He puts in his number, adding a chili next to his name. ‘Carlos Sainz 🌶️’  

 You frown, “What’s the chili stand for?” Once more, he winks. “You’ll find out soon enough, I’m sure. And here-” he pulls out his wallet and hands you another hundred, “-for the trouble.” You blush again and shake your head. You hesitate, eyeing the money, biting the inside of your cheek, churning over if you should take it or not.  

It’s been the first time that you’ve laughed in weeks. Not to mention the previous money already helps so much. “Tan testarudo que ya lo puedo ver. Está bien, me gusta un poco de coraje en mi chica.” He scoffs and shoves the bill in the back pocket of your jeans. “I think they’re gone now, I’ve got to go, I’m sure my manager is looking for me.” He says after his rant in the language I don’t understand.  

He unlocks the bathroom stall door, and clatters out, yet somehow makes it look so hot. You escort him out of the restaurant and find yourself staring at him on the sidewalk of Paris. You can’t but remember, when he looks at you like he’s ready to devour you, that this is the city of love. Again, he steps up close, feeling his hot breath on your forehead. He’s six inches taller than you, he’s looming.  

As if thirty minutes ago are happening again. He’s quiet and contemplative. His sweet, cocky attitude turns dark suddenly. His warm, rough hands gently caress your cheek. “I’m only in Paris for one more week, before I’m off to the Netherlands. If you don’t message me, I’ll make sure to see you again.” He looks so serious, so much so that your stomach turns slightly.  

“Wouldn’t that be going a bit fast? Seeing me at my work a week after we met?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes. His eyes turn slightly darker and yet he smirks. “I like a fast pace.” As if he’s a villain in a bond movie, a bright black SUV pulls up next to him. “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’ll be better for the both of us. I don’t want the world to know about you just yet.”  

His wink sends shivers down your spine. He then takes your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. “I will see you again, muñequita.” He then slides into the back of the SUV; his gaze makes your core warm. And when he rides away you can’t help but lean against a close-by streetlamp. Your legs feel like Jello.  

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Clothes make the man

AN: There is no plot here. This is just porn. I have nothing to say for myself other than this is Kai's (@lovelyhan ) fault, and this outfit has haunted me for three years now. I had to get this out of my system. I resisted with the Daddy kink this time around but, this is still me largely pushing my 'Joshua is kinkier than I feel like people give him credit for' agenda so. Now I'll disappear in shame and embarrassment *finger guns.*

Synopsis: You don't expect to feel so strongly about one of Joshua's stage outfits.

Heads up: Joshua Hong x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Dom! Joshua, Sub! Reader, mentions of previous thigh riding, Reader mentions boot humping in passing once, scent kink if you squint, hand and arm kink of sorts (Reader is really into Josh's hands and arms), praise (f. receiving), pet names, Reader has an oral fixation, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers, hints of a size kink, dirty talk, mirror sex, nipple play (f. receiving), degradation (f. receiving), risky sex/public sex (they fuck in Josh's dressing room and are vaguely worried about being caught), vaginal fingering (f. receiving), mostly clothed sex, me pushing my big dick! Josh agenda, unprotected piv sex, Reader sucks on Josh's fingers post fingering, it's insinuated that Reader is a masochist, rough sex, dacryphilia kink, creampie and Reader being plugged afterwards.

Word count: 3499

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The cool air from the air conditioner prompts you to tug your cardigan closer to you as you continue to catch up on your scrolling for the day while you wait for Joshua. He texted you that he'd likely be finished with his group shoot for the day in the next half an hour or so and, that you could just wait in his dressing room before the two of you head home.

He finds you completely engrossed with your phone when he does eventually finish up for the day. His lips ticking up in amusement since you still haven't registered his presence.

"Is what's on your phone really more important than your precious boyfriend? I'm hurt," he says with a faux pout to catch your attention. Leaning against his dressing room door.

You pointedly choose to ignore his chuckle when his voice quite literally causes you to jump in your seat. You turn to face him sheepishly, "Hi, Josh. I'm sorry I didn't realise-"

The words die on your tongue in an instant when you take in what he's wearing.

His shirt accentuates his shoulders in a way that is wholly unnecessary. Worse still, his arms are on full display for you to drink in. Muscles flexing and veins visible while he stands there with his arms crossed. And god, his pants. They all but force your eyes to focus on how they flatter his thighs, and you're suddenly hit with a barrage of memories. Memories of Josh flexing them underneath you while you hump them in an attempt to cum. An amused gleam in his eyes as he watched you because you both knew you'd never cum the way you wanted to.

Is it horrible to admit that even his boots are so attractive? In the very deep, private parts of your mind, you think he'd like the idea of watching you grind against them to get off. Maybe if you ever find the courage, you'll ask him.

"Are you okay?"

You're broken out of your thoughts by Joshua's concerned voice. Blinking, you focus back on him only to find his handsome face twinged with confusion and worry. The way his inky hair sticks to said handsome face isn't helping your conundrum, but you do feel guilty for worrying him when you're spiralling over him in one of his stage outfits.

"Yeah, I am. Sorry, I just got a little in my head there."

"In your head? About what?" Dread coils in your gut at the question. You're determined to look anywhere but, directly at him. Fiddling with your phone in your hands while your mind races to think of a half decent answer.

"Um- just school. You know, this semester's been pretty busy. Plus, I have a few assignments due in the next month, so I've been trying to figure out how to schedule my calendar around them. Then it'll be the holiday, but you know never too soon to start preparing -" You're rambling. You know you are, and so does Josh, but the words continue to tumble out of you.

"You're a terrible liar," he interrupts, and you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day. To your absolute horror, he's moving closer to you until he's intimately in your personal space. Oh, this is worse. So, so much worse. Because his scent invades your senses too and, embarrassment warms your face when it dawns on you that you're wet.

His large, warm hand cups your jaw and gently nudges your face up until you meet his intense gaze. His thumb strokes your cheek gently when and, you so badly want it in your mouth instead, but your mouth feels as though it's been stapled shut.

Dread, anticipation and desire form a lethal concoction in your veins when Josh's face shifts from concern and confusion to understanding. The corners of his plump lips lifting up in way that muddles your mind further and causes more of your wetness to trickle onto your panties.

"Oh, I get it now," he rumbles with a laugh that's far too amused, "If you wanted me, you could've just said so." You suddenly find his face mere centimetres from your own with hold on your face keeping you from shying away. Even after being with him for all this time, you still find it difficult to meet his gaze head on occasionally. Maybe you're afraid he'll see just how truly far gone you are for him. Maybe his eyes will finally devour you whole and, you don't know if you'd ever be able to come back from that.

"Where'd you go? Come back to me," he coaxes gently, his face softening momentarily while his thumb drags along your bottom lip. Blinking up at him you finally find your voice again and the words rush out of you, "I'm here. I-I want it. Want you."

Kissing Josh is perhaps one of your favourite activities to partake in with him. His lips are so soft and, even as his tongue teases its way into his mouth, he takes his time. Determined to rile you up just with his mouth and his firm grasp on your face. Your hands reach up for him, feeling like you'll be driven to madness if you don't touch him somehow, somewhere, anywhere. Your hands find purchase on his massive biceps. Hisses pressed against your lips when your nails bite into his skin.

A whine leaves you before you can stop it when he pulls away from you, looking down at you through dark bangs and lidded eyes. "Can we go home?" You ask, your panties starting to cling to you uncomfortably just from this godforsaken outfit and some kissing. You're not sure how much longer can take not having him.

"What's got you so riled up?" He asks instead, genuine curiosity colouring his tone. You elect not to give him a direct response, "Can't I just think my boyfriend is hot?"

"Oh, you absolutely can and, while I'm flattered, we both know me being just hot doesn't get you nearly this worked up," he retorts, leaning down once more to lightly kiss along your neck. His hands shoving your cardigan from your shoulders until it pools around you. You bite back the whimpers that so desperately want to fall from you with every brush of Joshua's lips against your sensitive skin. Your thighs rubbing together in search of any semblance of relief.

"Come on, be a good girl and tell me," he mutters, one of his large hands dragging down your body until it rests a little too high on your upper thigh. "Or do you want me to get it out of you another way?"

"Your outfit," you blurt out immediately, you know Josh's mind is always coming up with frighteningly inventive ways to punish you and, you don't think you could handle that today. Not with how you're barely keeping it together as it is, "You- You look good. Really, really good."

That makes him take pause, "Really? That's it?" He doesn't sound judgemental or as though you just told him the most idiotic thing the world. Just... genuinely surprised.

"Yes," you whine, "Now can we go home please?"

You nearly choke on your spit when he resumes his assault on your poor throat, and his hand finds itself between your thighs, automatically spreading for him because of course they do. Something guttural and from the depths of his chest hit your ear when his fingers brush against your slick panties. Prompting your hips to chase the friction, tightening your hold on him as well.

"Fuck. Fuck, you weren't kidding," he breathes as though you've completely knocked the wind from him. However, he's gone from your body in instant, "Shua, where are you-"

Your question is answered when you see him lock the door only to stock back over to you, his erection testing the durability of these pants and somehow making them look more appealing. Saliva pooling in your mouth while your walls clamp down borderline painfully around nothing.

"My poor baby. I don't think you'll last until we get home," he says, his thumb dragging along your bottom lip. His eyes darken further when he eases it into your mouth, and you suck immediately. Just happy to have anything occupying your mouth.

"I'll just take care of you here. Up," he commands, stepping away from you to give you space to rise to your feet. You blink up at him but when you're only met with an eyebrow raise, you stand up immediately. Letting your cardigan, phone and bag rest on the chair as your boyfriend looms over you. The intent in his eyes more than enough to quicken your heartrate and stiffen your nipples under your casual dress.

"So you do know how to listen," is all the warning you receive before you're all but, shoved against his vanity. One of his hands fondling your breast over your dress while the other drags you by the hip until there's no space between the two of you. His erection burns against your stomach even through the layers of your clothing. Just as heavy with intent.

You moan into his mouth with every brush and squeeze of his hand over your breast, electricity shooting straight down your spine to your clit with every one of his touches but, it's not enough. You want to feel him.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, Joshua has always had a knack for being six steps ahead of you, you find yourself facing your reflection in his mirror. You already look like a mess. Eyes glazed and a little watery with your lips bruised from how thoroughly he's been kissing you. The straps of your dress barely cling to your shoulders, and your breasts jiggle with every heaving breath you take.

A gasp flies from your lips and you hold onto his vanity when Josh presses himself, more specifically his erection, against you once more. You think you may lose your mind if he doesn't just fuck you. You're sure you're more than wet enough to take him by now. You're not quite sure whether you want him to keep his clothes mostly on or, touch his soft skin.

"You're distracted again," he tuts against your shoulder before pressing featherlight kisses to all of the skin he can reach there. A stark contrast to the way his hands roughly tug down the straps of your dress, your breasts free and goosebumps rising when they're met with the cool air of his dressing room.

He meets your gaze in the mirror as he touches them once again. A choked whimper gracing his ears when he barely drags the tips of his fingers over your nipples, "Maybe I'm doing a bad job keeping your attention," he pouts but, that look is in his eyes. Your knees nearly buckle when he tugs on them more harshly this time, soothing them with gentle rubs that make you feel dizzy.

"Is this why you didn't wear a bra today?" The drop of a few octaves in his voice significantly worsen how empty you are in this very moment, "So I'd touch and play with your tits?"

"What a slut you are."

His words coupled with his stupid, stupid, skillfull hands force a drawn out mewl from your throat. Your foggy mind desperately trying to find any words to respond to him.

"Josh- Shua, no I- I didn't think I'd take long to pick y-you up. So, I didn't wear one," you whimper in response after a particularly harsh tug. He puts on a show of humming in thought as though he's not still pinching and toying with your nipples, tears building in your eyes with ever minute he's not inside of you.

"I don't know," he drawls, the air in your lungs stopping as one of his hands snakes its way down your dress until it reaches the apex of your thighs, "Something tells me you didn't wear one so I'd just have to bend you over and fuck you."

If everyone could only see their sweet Joshua now. Spilling filth against your skin while his hand assesses how wet you are and his hips shallowly grind against the swell of your ass for a bit of friction. They'd likely have an aneurism.

A moan far louder than you intended bounces off the walls of his dressing room when his fingers find your clit over your ruined panties. His eyes shutting briefly as if to collect himself before he continues drawing steady circles. You've never been more grateful for the table in front of you because you're sure you would've collapsed into a heap on the floor if you didn't have it to support you.

"Not too loud," he mutters into your skin with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes. His hand slipping into your panties to touch you a directly, his throaty groan combining with the moan that you couldn't quite bite back in time when as his fingers tease your wet folds. Your eyes screwing shut as they shallowly dip in and out of your neglected hole.

His hands still, and that prompts you to open your eyes, confused as to what made him stop. "None of that. I want you to see. I want you to watch," he says, his reflection holding your gaze once more. His other hand drifting to hold your jaw in place. Not too harshly but, with enough pressure that you know better than to move.

Whether as a reward or because he simply wants to, eventually sinks a thick finger into you. The stretch prompts a jumbled mess of gasps and whimpers from your chest. Your eyes barely remaining open with the relief of finally having something inside of you.

"There you go," he groans against your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake, "That's my baby."

The angle is a little awkward but, your hips chase the curls of his finger regardless. The need to shove down all of your noises of pleasure becoming increasingly challenge with every exploitation of your weaknesses Josh uses against you.

You don't receive much of a warning this time when he eases a second finger into you, this time the stretch is a little more than you can handle, "J-Josh," you choke out, your wetness dripping down his palm.

"My slutty girl you're doing so good," he coos, kissing the back of your neck while he grinds his erection against your ass, "Taking my fingers so well. Can't wait to feel you on my cock."

That causes a more visceral reaction from you. Your walls clamping down on his long fingers as one of your hands grabs his forearm, "Please. Pl-Please. Shua please. I-I want it please," you couldn't feel embarrassed if you tried. Joshua tended to have that effect on you.

He rests his head against your shoulder briefly, "Gimme a second," he says, the dip of his voice sending shudders down your spine. You cringe a little when he pulls his fingers out of you, your wetness coating them generously. You watch him unbutton and unzip his pants with baited breath, "Can you- can you keep your clothes on?"

Joshua meets your gaze with his eyebrows raised before that knowing look returns to his face. He laugh would sound beautiful if you his cock wasn't minutes from being inside of you and you weren't dripping onto his dressing room floor, "Sure."

Your gratitude comes out as a strangled whimper when the fat head of his cock prods at your slick entrance, "I don't know if I should be offended that you're this wet because of some clothes and fingering," he mutters. You couldn't respond to him even if you tried. Your mind just occupied with the idea of finally being filled by him.

"Cock drunk already huh?" He muses, meeting your gaze briefly before glancing down to watch himself split you open. His quiet moans being drowned out by your much, much more vocal ones. You're not sure you'll ever quite grow accustomed to his first thrust. Especially given the rush and your impatience, his slow push into you stings a little bit more more than usual but, the pain only fuels your arousal.

"Fuck," he groans and you're inclined to agree with his sentiment, "Always so wet and tight for me." If you could find the words you'd tell him the reason you're so tight is because of how big he is but, you're too preoccupied with trying to remain standing.

He's nestled so deeply inside of you when he finally bottoms out. His hips flush against yours and his tip kissing your cervix, quieter whimpers leave you with every throb and pulse of him inside of you. "Open," he grits into your ear, his fingers still slick with your wetness resting on your bottom lip. You open your mouth without much of a second thought, the slightly salty taste of your wetness flooding your taste buds and you realise very quickly why Joshua shoved his fingers into your mouth.

He pulls back only to thrust back into you without much mercy, your moans fortunately being muffled by his fingers. His heavy, lidded gaze takes in the way your drool around him, some of it dribbling past your lips while he continues to fuck into harshly and quickly. He's not sure how much time he has left before someone comes knocking so, he'd rather make this quick. He can take his time with you when you're at home.

You gag around his fingers slightly when he angles his thrusts marginally, smirking when he hits that spot inside of you that causes you grip him like a vice and nearly go limp in his arms. Joshua supports you through it all. Hitting that spot over and over again until overwhelmed tears trickle down your face and you're sure you could cum from this alone and, his muffled groans and grunts with every unforgiving intrusion.

"You know what your tears do to me, baby," he moans hoarsely, his thrusts stuttering slightly when he drinks in the combination of tears and spit smeared on your gorgeous face. All you can do is nod hurriedly. Telling him without telling him that you want it. You want him to cum.

"My precious cumslut of a girlfriend," he laughs breathlessly and without much humour, his pace picking up considerably and the sounds of your wetness and his heavy balls slapping against you ringing out obscenely throughout the room. "Always so greedy for my cum," he moans against your shoulder, his other hand hurriedly reaching between your thighs to rub frantic circles against your neglected clit.

Now you really are happy he had the foresight to make you gag on his fingers. You're not sure you could've silenced yourself even if you tried your utmost. The symphony of your choked noises of pleasure and Joshua's muffled ones join the increasing noises echoing throughout the room. Your walls tighten around him viciously, your toes tingling and even more tears springing forth from your eyes.

Josh cums first. A throaty groan of your name and a few curse words your only warning before you feel him pulse inside of you. Ropes and ropes of his warm cum flooding your awaiting pussy, his hips jerking into you sporadically and his hold on you almost bruising. His attempts to keep rubbing your clit proved fruitful because it doesn't take you long to tumble over the proverbial edge along with him. It takes a significant amount of conscious effort not to bite down on his fingers as your orgasm rocks your system. Josh moaning again as your walls spasm and clamp around his softening cock.

Once you'd ridden out the more intense parts of your climax, Josh removes his fingers from your mouth. Your shared, laboured breathing the only sounds that could be heard.

"If I knew you'd react like this to my outfit, I would have worn it sooner," he says with a chuckle that sounds far too full of himself. Not that he doesn't have a right to be but still. "You just look really good okay, god," you mutter once your voice finds you again. Cringing both from the scratchy quality of your voice and, Joshua slowly pulling out of you. Quickly putting your panties back in place. A surprised gasp flying from your lips when he pushes the fabric into you with two of his long fingers.

"Wouldn't want you to waste it," he says, his eyes heavy with want once again when they they find yours, "After all you worked so hard being my little cumslut. Who knows, maybe if you manage to not leak a drop I'll fill you up again."

You resent the way your body shudders but, you nod all the same, "I won't spill a drop, Shua."

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

It's Valentine day, and some fan service when Crewel daughter lost a bet and wearing a bunny outfit that hugs her curvs bit too well ( think of Jessica Rabbit level of sexy ) and all confident of her body as she sings on stage for them

All the boys reaction seeing both display and the show

I'm not doing all of them

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Valentines Performance | Yandere TWST x Crewel Daughter Reader

First and foremost Crewel’s daughter never loses a bet

But charity does look good on her record so she’d do it

Heck you might even suggest it

“What? I know from my head to my toes that I’m practically irresistible. Of course you’d want me to be the main performance.”

You wouldn’t do it for just some boys wishing to ogle you for their own desires

That would be of no benefit to you

In fact, you’d force Crowley to pay

Who in turn forces your admirers to cough up a significant amount

But if you’re going to go through the trouble of dressing up and performing it will be for a good cause and for a good paycheck

So many lonely, sad people on such a day is something a princess shouldn’t ignore

If you have curves than great but even without you’re just as alluring 

But like everything you do it has the boys drooling:

Azul Ashengrotto

He was proud to be apart of the latest cashgrab charity that the school was fundraising

And he was even happier to call upon you under that pretense

Its been years since he’s heard you sing

He can only imagine what its like now 

And with the excuse of being practice he’ll hear the chords you so casually ring out as the charity dinner is mapped out

But only when you’re fully made up and singing does he feel like his investment was truly worth it

“A-a-ah (Y/n) that was–”

“Amazing, I know. I can tell you’re excited but don’t go inking all over the floor before the finale.”

“Y-yeah.”

He really does have to stop himself 

He’s just so enamored 

One day he’ll have to ask trick you into singing a serenade to him

“A mate’s song needs to be, at the very least, decent enough to attract. Naturally, (Y/n) would exceed that, she truly is a prime mate and the only one I’d ever bother chasing after.”

Kalim Al Asim

He loves that you’re scheduled to perform

Money isn’t an object anyway so he’s happy to pad your paycheck and donation

He just loves loves loves anything you do 

You could go outside in a chicken wunzie and sing horribly he’d still fling his money in your direction

But as he watches you appear on stage make up done, dress hugging tight something burns

His cheeks get warm and suddenly his clothes feel too hot to wear

A yearning that Kalim barely acknowledges to dangerous takes over and he’s in a daze for the entirety of the night

Don’t interrupt the performance 

Don’t bother him while he’s watching you sing in that sultry tone

Or you can see what its like when Jamil’s happy to follow Kalim’s orders+

“(Y/n) you should sing more often! Your voice is so beautiful!” 

“Thank you, Kalim.”

“Will you be doing another set? I’d love to play along side you!”

He’ll be replaying your performance in his head for years to come

Always letting a smile come to his face

“Wow I can’t get her voice out of my head! Maybe I should ask her to sing to me everynight!”

Vil Schoenheit

If he isn’t hired himself to join you he’ll donate his talent with a small fee

But to be seen by millions as the most beautiful dream couple 

Neige could never

But ego aside he loves nothing more than performing with you side by side

Brought back to the days you two would make little plays and shows for your fathers to watch 

Now this was just fate in work, wasn’t it

That you two would be preparing a duet that’d have the world talking for weeks 

“Are you ready to delivery our harmony of ecstasy?”

“You know I am. I like your trim by the way.”

“And I yours. Though we both know anything you wear is better than couture.”

For this moment and this moment only will he encourage the hunter to share his recordings

He won’t be able to hear your voice out in the crowd

But it couldn’t compare to the sound of being beside you

As it was always meant to be

“Becoming a duo? Who’s to say? We both have big plans for the future but naturally we’ll be together asitsalwaysbeen.”

[sook9i]

i’m thinking about this again

especially just like,,,how tall kai is in those heels. like he’s pretty tall as is but god just the way it’d feel like he’s just completely dwarfing you. (i am writing this a with shorter person in mind, i’m sorry tall folks 😔 know that i love you too <3)

like imagine you join him on the set for shoot, just some extra support and maybe to catch up a little with bahiyyih. you keep yourself to the outskirts, not wanting to interfere with the shoot. so you end up in some lonely corner; peering out at the hustle & bustle all around you from time to time but mainly just keeping to yourself.

having somewhat tuned out the room’s chaos, you don’t notice the clacking footsteps headed your way. Not until a delicate finger swipes along your chin and twists your head up. There, your boyfriend’s smiling face greets you, however your attention is quickly pulled back to the shoes now adorning his feet. Two, chunky, thick, black, heeled boots, not to mention tall. so tall. The material trailing all the way up to his thigh and stopping just below his interesting outfit combo. Eyes finally moving back up to his, the heat suddenly ravaging your body is incredibly humiliating.

He’s simply towering over you. your head is tilted almost completely back just to get a glimpse of his dazzling smile. it makes your head spin. the way he could so easily loom over you, back you into a corner like cowering prey. caging you in with his strong, bare arms. it’s embarrassing. he seems so happy to see you wearing a sweet, innocent, face; while your mind is racing a mile a minute down into its most depraved corners.

Imagining him standing over you, pressing the heel of his shoe hard into your skin. laughing at the way you’d whine and beg. such an evil look on his soft face, so unlike your sweet hyuka. but you’d be lying if you said the idea of him forcing you onto your knees just to fuck your face while he remained dressed like this didn’t make your core ache desperately.

Looking back at his happy face, you struggle to return the smile. It completely drops the moment you catch the teasing tone of his voice. “So, do you like the outfit?”

GRARRARARSRAH I NEED HIM HORRIBLY 👹👹👹 (also ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes i just wrote this on a whim)

[pappydaddy]

broken (j.m.)

a/n: finally got a request done! it has been done for almost a year (oops) but i finally was able to format it and get it ready to post!

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

requested through chat

synopsis: jj meets a girl in the bathroom at a party and takes her back the chateau after seeing himself within her.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543 | @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover | @taurusvic | @moralina | @verystarfishflower | @4dr1ana | @adr1ana | @instabull | @poppet05 | @rottenstyx | @boxofsilentwords | @popeheywardssecretgf | @lexi-2004 | @i-always-come-back-xoxo | @rootbeerfaygo | @444lyra | @savagemickey03 *line through your user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: angst (not for relationship) | toxic relationships mentioned | hurt/comfort (a little) | short

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

____

 Y/N feels like she’s just floating through life, not really fitting in anywhere. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the Kooks, but that didn’t stop them from kissing up to her and her family. What made it worse was that she fell for it so many times. She would think her friends actually liked her, and then they would prove otherwise. Like right now. 

  Standing there, leaning against a wall, she scanned the crowd filling the extravagant house. She didn’t want to come to this party but her “friends” had begged and begged her - even going as far as picking out an outfit for her and promising to do her makeup. She was kicking herself now because it took them about thirty minutes max to ditch her. Huffing, she took a swig of her warm beer, cringing at the taste. 

  “Oh, my god.” She grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. She could feel an uncomfortable weight settling on her chest as her skin became hot, heat crawling along under her skin but it wasn’t from the fact that the house was packed like a nightclub - no, it was from her becoming irritable and overstimulated. The bra she was wearing was digging into her skin and her boobs were spilling out of it because it was too small. She had told her friends it was too small but they maintained that it wasn’t that small. 

  But it wasn’t just her attire or the horrible stickiness that hung in the foggy (and gross) air swirling around the enclosed but very fancy living room that was contributing to her irritable mood. It was also the arching of her heart as she was once again pushed to the side. Discarded carelessly, only sought out and used when someone needed something from her. The ache stung her chest, the burning sensation crawling up her throat and encompassing her eyes like ivy consuming an old building. 

  Her eyes slowly started to well with water as her vision involuntarily zeroed in on one spot on the sticky, luxurious tile floor. The weight of every horrible voice and every single instance that proved to her that she was nothing to anyone settled onto her chest, constricting her lungs as she tried desperately to drag in breaths. The wall of tears continued to build, blurring her vision as the weight increased with each passing second. More memories of her friends and family using her and then ignoring her. 

  She knew she had a purpose in life. She knew this but it didn’t mean it hurt any less when your sole purpose is to be used by others. To be used, ignored, and forgotten. Blinking rapidly, tears slipped down her face. The warm water pulled her from her daze, making her push herself off the wall. She stumbled as the heels she wore scuffed loudly against the tile floor, her feet skidding as she rushed and stumbled her way towards the bathroom with tears encroaching on her visual field. Luckily her mother forced her to learn how to walk in any sized heel in hopes that she would become a model (until her mother didn’t need the external validation anymore and the idea was quickly forgotten much like she was until she wanted her to become a principal dancer in a ballet company), if she hadn’t, Y/N was sure she would have landed face first into a wall making the night ten times worse and flashing people in the process. 

  Barging her way through the luckily unlocked bathroom door, she let her body fall back upon it, shoving it closed. The sounds of the party were muffled behind the french door, the privacy glass with floral designs on it cold against the skin of her shoulders and the tops of her thighs. “Can people not have normal bathroom doors?” Y/N took her frustrations out on the existence of the inanimate object. An inanimate object that probably received better treatment than her. 

  Pushing off the fancy door, she looked at it. Blinking at it, she saw the blurred colours and silhouettes of people milling around outside the door. An inanimate object. A nagging darkness swirled within Y/N’s heart as she stared at this door. Her mind tried to ignore the voice of the darkness taunting her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to believe what it was saying, she fully knew the hisses it spoke were the truth - the people she surrounded herself with only viewed her as an object. She was simply there to benefit them and to give them external awards. 

  Stumbling backwards, further into the surprisingly spacious half-bath (if you could still call it a half-bath when it had a sauna), her head slowly turned to look at herself in the mirror. Despite the way she felt, she was rather put together. She pictured that her hair was a mess, looking like she was just drug fifty yards through dense forest. She imagined that her mascara and eyeliner were smudged under her eyes, making her look like a raccoon. Lastly, she had assumed her dress was a skew and riding up on the bottom but slipping down on the top. But no, she looked perfectly fine. She just felt like she was a mess. She felt uncomfortable. She felt like an outcast. She felt like she was visibly different from everyone else out there. She felt like she was broken.

  “Oh, my god.” Her face contorted as she stared at herself in the mirror before tears started to roll down her face, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. This wasn’t news to her, she knew her only purpose in life was to serve others. Her goals were never her own, they were always made to benefit others around her. She never knew how to be intrinsic. 

  Burying her face in her hands, her elbows crashed into the marble countertops that practically took up the whole length of the wall in front of her. Who even needed this much counter space? A grown ass person could use it as a bed. In fact, Y/N contemplated crawling up on the cold marble and just laying there for the rest of the party. People could use one of the other ten bathrooms this mansion had. Unfortunately, there was a flaw in her plan. It was made evident when someone burst into the bathroom, startling her so much that the tears stopped flowing and she jumped back, falling on her ass. 

  “Oh shit,” The guy cursed, throwing the red solo cup he held to the side as he rushed towards her. Her swollen and red eyes opened, seeing him crouched in front of her. “My bad, didn’t know anyone was in here-” He paused, jamming his thumb in the direction of the door he left ajar. “The door was unlocked so I assumed-” He trailed off, blue eyes scanning her. She sniffled, averting her eyes away from the guy, looking at the mahogany cupboards that sat below the marble countertop. 

  “It’s okay, I should have locked the door. I thought I did.” She waved him off, tucking her legs beneath her, bracing her hands against the tiled floor to start pushing herself up. 

  “Here, let me help you up. I’m the reason you fell, it’s the least I could do,” The guy offered, grabbing her wrists and pulling on them until he could lay her palms in his rough ones, his fingers curling around her smaller, neater hands. She still avoided looking at him, but she found her eyes flicking to him for a brief moment when his warm touch brought her an aura of calmness. An aura of acceptance. Something this guy should not be giving her. She had heard the stories about him - hell, she’s even seen him in his douchebag action. “I’m JJ, by the way,” He told her once she was standing firmly in her stilettos, his hands still clasping hers to his as she felt his eyes remain on her face. 

  Of course she knew who he was. He was JJ Maybank. Womaniser extraordinaire, kleptomaniac, heartless player of the island, and no-good-pogue-trailer-trash. That last one she doubted since it was what her parents and her friends called anyone who didn’t have three cars over the price of one hundred thousand dollars each. According to them, the majority of the island was trailer trash, including people who were upper middle class. Despite never interacting with him, she was well aware of him. With his shaggy blonde hair, the dazzling sideways smile that normally hung off his lips, the gleaming blue eyes that always had her falling into a trance when she looked at him. It was impossible for her not to know JJ Maybank - he was every Kook’s wet dream. 

  She sniffled, her shoulders shaking as her mind looped back to why she was in the bathroom in the first place. Pressing her lips together, she sniffled frantically, trying to will herself not to start sobbing in front of JJ Maybank. While she was confident that he wanted nothing to do with her, she still would much prefer having her fantasy of him running across the beach towards her and whisking her away from Figure 8. She couldn’t have those if the image of him was marred by her blubbering in front of him like a complete mess. 

  “Hey, hey,” JJ started to freak out, nearly jumping out of his skin as he realised she was starting to cry. His blue eyes wide with panic as his hands let go of hers only to clasp onto her bare biceps, his back hunching to try to look her in the eyes. She whimpered, closing her eyes tightly as she craned her neck to the side in an effort to try and hide the obvious. “Did I hurt you when I scared you?” He asked, concerned. 

  She simply shook her head, sniffling as she sucked in a long breath before letting it out, trying to calm her shaking body as she tried to hold in the tears that wanted to freely flow down her cheeks. He was probably piss ass drunk with no chance of remembering any of this so she figured she would be the only one to remember this situation. “No, I didn’t hurt myself,” She sniffled, still not looking at him. Her breathing shook as her body trembled - fighting with every ounce of power she had to stop the tears from rolling down her face. “My life is just a mess and you’re probably going to laugh in my face because how can I tell you my life sucks when you’re a pogue who didn’t have power for most of last summer, but it does suck because everyone in my life sucks-” She opened her eyes, shifting them to stare at the centre of his chest, seeing the Carhartt hoodie he wore. It looked good on him. Almost as good as the tank tops he wore every summer. “And they all treat me like shit! Like tonight! I didn’t even want to come tonight, but they begged me to come and once we got here they ditched me!” For a moment, she forgot she was in the presence of someone she had never really talked to before - feeling comfortable in the air that blanketed them. In the air of the room they stood alone in. 

  “That’s a dick move, bro.” JJ agreed, hands not leaving her biceps as he stood up straighter. He was accepting that she wasn’t going to look him in the eye, but he could see the puffiness of her eyelids, the streaked makeup, and the wobbling of her bottom lip. He felt sick with himself that he felt his heart becoming lighter as he saw her cry and divulge her darkest thoughts to him. 

  “That’s the way with everyone in my life, they only talk to me when there is a use for me,” She sniffled. Despite the lightness to his heart, he was still weighed down, his heart aching to see someone so torn up. He knew this feeling she kept within her all too well. Like they are invisible to everyone until they are needed. Like they are stranded on an island, made to seem like they are miles out at sea, but they are only feet away from civilization. They felt forgotten. They felt abandoned. They felt alone. Utterly and totally alone in this world. “Who's supposed to be there for me?” She posed the question that weighed on JJ’s mind almost every night. Sober or inebriated. The question stewed in his head. 

  “We could be there for each other.” He shrugged. He saw how broken she was. Broken like him. A twin flame, both marred by the bruises of life with no one to help shield them from the punches of life. 

  She finally lifted her head, eyes meeting his. Red filled the whites of her glossy and tearfilled eyes. Her mouth was slack in shock, eyes wide. “What?” She whispered in an exhale, eyes searching his for any sign of drunkenness or insanity. His crystal blue eyes were just that - crystal clear and one hundred percent cognizant. 

  He took a second before replying, his eyes locked on hers. It confirmed everything for him. He could see his reflection in her eyes. “You’re broken-” He stated, making her face screw up in insult. He could see a snarky remark teetering on the tip of her tongue. “You’re broken like me. I like that. Makes me feel less alone,” He added, watching as her body language became less defensive, her face relaxing into realisation and peace. “If we’re there for each other, maybe then we will finally have people in our lives that just want our company.” 

  She blinked at him, taken back by the vulnerable request. She knew JJ’s life wasn’t the best. She knew he faced many turmoils and tribulations, but she never thought he would relate to her feelings of loneliness and brokenness. “Okay,” She nodded, her voice steady but soft. “I’ll be there for you.” She extended her hand out towards him, her pinky finger hooked. 

  He never once dropped his eyes from hers, reaching his own hooked pinky out to her. “I’ll be there for you.” He spoke as his pinky connected with hers, a feeling so intense but calming washing over the pair of them in their solitude. 

  Suddenly, a body crashed into the bathroom, startling to pair. “Aye, I gotta piss!” A drunken frat guy slurred, the drink in his solo cup sloshing as he fought to stand up properly, leaning heavily on the door frame next to him. JJ and Y/N both forgot that they were at a party. The music that had been muffled by the door had been forgotten about, the drunken crowd of partygoers not even a thought in their minds. It had been just the two of them. 

  “Come on, let’s go.” JJ released her pinky, making her miss the connection. She didn’t miss it too long for he grabbed her hand gently, turning and walking her towards the door. 

  “Where,” She asked, slightly panicked. In her panic, she found her other hand that didn’t have her fingers intertwined with his reaching out to grasp his forearm, stumbling in her heels as she shuffled closer to his wide, muscular back. “I don’t want to go back to the party, my makeup is a mess!”

  “Don’t worry, I know a place,” He reassured her, his voice soothing her. She was blindly trusting him and, oddly, she didn’t feel a sickening twist in her stomach. “A place I can go to escape most of the world. The Chateau."

[rogueddie]

Fool / Go For It

Eddie is playful, teasing, with all of his friends. It's how he shows affection- with light nudges, light ribbing... it's all done in good faith.

A lot of the teasing he aims at Steve, however, have a sting to them. He cracks a lot of jokes about 'King Steve', about his old friends and his families wealth- all sore spots for Steve.

They don't feel like jokes, even though Steve knows that's all they are.

"I can't just tell him," Steve insists as he, once again, complains about Eddies teasing.

"Yes, you can," Robin says. Her voice is monotone, having repeated her arguments so many times that it's exhausting. "He's your boyfriend. He likes you. If he's upsetting you, he'll want to know."

"But you tease me like he does! All the time!"

"That's different. We're, like, soulmates."

"Rob," Steve groans, flopping his head down so his face is pressed into her bed sheets. His voice is muffled when he continues; "I don't want him to feel like he's second best."

"Steve, for Christs sake, he won't think that! And if he does, he's an idiot."

Lifting his head, he gives her his best puppy-dog eyes. "I can't risk that. I think I might be in love with him."

"That's just more reason to tell him."

He groans, dropping his head again. He always forgets how immune she is to his pleading looks.

"We're seeing him soon," she continues, ignoring his muffled complaints. "You'll tell him then, or I will. And I won't be nice about it, either."

Steve only groans in complaint.

"Come on, dingus," she teases, lightly slapping his shoulder. "You can help me pick out an outfit."

"You never take my advice," he reminds her, getting up to follow her to the closet anyway.

It's almost a routine for them, at this point; she'll pick an outfit, Steve will point out the things wrong with it and, when he makes his own suggestion, she'll point out how horrible his idea would look on her.

Both understand what the other is actually saying- Robin does end up trading the vest that she originally picked out for her black denim jacket, like Steve suggested.

"See?" Steve teases, bumping his shoulder into hers as they head out.

"It's ok, I guess," she ribs back. "You've had worse ideas."

"Ha," he deadpans.

Robin is practically giddy as she climbs in the car. She glances at him, pointedly, when he turns the music up as soon as she says Eddies name. She doesn't fight him on it though.

She knows him well enough, instinctively, to know that he needs the time to himself.

When they pull up, he flings the door open as soon as he can, so she's interrupted when-

"Steve!" Eddie yells in greeting. He jumps up, speedwalking to meet them half way. "You made it!"

"I said we would," Steve grins. The amount of affection they can show, in the schools parking lot, is limited- but Steve can't help but pull Eddie in for a hug. "I always keep my word."

"Unless it's about the pool," Eddie teases, patting his side before turning to his friends.

"Right," Steve forces a laugh.

He hadn't realized that Eddie would remember that- it was so long ago and probably the longest conversation they'd had, pre-Upside Down.

Steve hadn't thought it'd been that bad. He'd actually been trying to look out for Eddie, with how late in the night it was- he'd assumed that he'd been drinking, like everyone else, and going in the pool-

"Steve?" Robin asks, gently shaking him.

"Hm?"

"The pool?"

"Oh, long story. It's... it's an old story, too. It's nothing, really."

"Steve, if he-" Robin starts, hands jumping to her hips.

"Hey," Eddie calls. "Guys, come on, we're gonna set up!"

Steve takes the opportunity, jogging over. "How long does it take to set up?"

Eddie eagerly jumps into a long winded explination, which quickly devolves into explaining rules of the game- things Eddie has already told him, multiple times, but Steve loves how excited he gets.

They finish setting everything up by the time the kids start filtering in- and the door opening knocks Eddie out of his ramble about a certain NPC he's still figuring out.

"You understand any of that?" Grant raises an eyebrow at him.

It's softened with how gentle Eddie is when reaches out to hold his hand, just for a moment.

Mike snorts, loudly.

"Yeah, I did," Steve says.

"Of course you did," Eddie teases, ruffling his hair. "Such a clever big boy. Now!" Eddie claps his hands together, turning to the table.

"Say something," Robin hisses, leaning close.

"I'm trying to listen," Steve whispers back.

She grumbles, but sits back.

It's more fun that he thought it would be, watching the group of them play D&D. It's not as headache inducing as reading, but somehow more fascinating than simply watching a movie.

He groans, almost as loud as the kids, when Eddie announces that they're at a good point to stop for the day.

"That was great," Steve says, siddling up to the table, leaning against the throne Eddies sat on while they all pack up. "I'm starting to get you nerds are so obsessed with this shit."

"What, you wanna sit in on our next game?"

Eddie says it like it's absurd, like it's a joke, but Steve is serious when he replies; "if that's alright with you lot, I'd love to."

"Really?" Eddie leans back, fully turning to him.

Mike scoffs. "He just wants to impress you."

"It was interesting!" Steve defends.

"You probably didn't understand half of what was going on."

"I understand the story. That's, like, the most important part!"

"Of course it it," Eddie gently pats his shoulder. "And I'm sure it'd be fine with everyone here to have an audience, right?"

"Right," Jeff answers. He offers Steve a genuine, friendly, smile.

"On one condition," Robin pipes up. "No more jabs at Steve."

"We're just teasing," Dustin points out. "Steve knows that- don't you, Steve."

"Uh, yeah, I mean-"

"Steve-" Robin tries.

"You do know that we're just joking, right?" Eddie asks, worried. He steps close, hand resting on Steves hip so he can rub circles in his skin. "We don't think any less of you for not knowing D&D. It is just a game."

"Yeah, I know," Steve agrees easily. It's easy to forget why it's a problem when Eddie is being so careful, worried, and affectionate.

And he smiles so wide, almost blindingly. He kisses Steve on the cheek, despite the others complaints, and starts asking about what time is best for their next meeting.

Robin steps up beside him, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"You're a fool."

[kingkatsuki]

I just love the idea of falling for Bakugou before you’ve even met him, you know? Like him showing up in your life when you’re at your absolute lowest and helping you through? And little do you know that you’re doing the same for him? When he’s too proud to talk to any of his friends or ask for support.

Imagine it’s been a few weeks since you broke up with your boyfriend, and the breakup wasn’t amicable. You’re back to feeling lonely and isolated as you stay in the same apartment you used to cohabitate with him. Every room seems that much bigger, and his side of the bed is always cold. You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re over him as you trawl through dating apps and start the arduous process of deleting all the photographs of you together on your phone. Memories that now feel wasted as you remember what you once had, what you lost.

Your friends force you out one Friday night, sick of seeing you wallow in your own self-pity as you decide on an outfit to wear. It’s been well over two months and there’s still an ache in your chest, a void in your life that you’re yet to replace as you down shot after shot with your girlfriends. Instead of the alcohol numbing your pain, it begins to exasperate it. Reminding you of all the times your ex-boyfriend came home late smelling of other women, forgot your birthday or anniversaries and the fights you had together.

Telling your friends you were going to the restroom as you excited towards the smoking area of the bar, standing outside in the cool nighttime air as the heavy bass of the speakers dulled through the brick walls. If your friends knew what you were doing they’d probably tell you to stop, not to trudge up old memories but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest or the rage brewing behind your eyes.

Pulling your phone from your bag as you move to text him. A number that you’d long since deleted from your phone, but being with your ex for so long you typed it into your phone like muscle memory. Texting inebriated long abandoned as you held the phone to your ear as it rang, letting the rage build inside you as you heard a rugged “Hello?”

You didn’t wait before you exploded on the phone, unleashing the feelings you should’ve conveyed to him during the breakup. Alcohol fuelling your rage as you continued berating him for being a horrible person and a terrible boyfriend. You probably looked insane shouting as the other smokers congregated outside, but no one paid yo any mind as you continued to scream your fury at him.

Until the voice on the other end of the line spoke properly.

“You done yet?” You could hear the sarcastic lilt to his voice as you felt embarrassment begin to flood your body, “It sounds like you got terrible taste in men, sweetheart.”

You’d dialled the wrong number. And somehow even though he was a stranger and you’d been the one to call him by mistake, his words had you seething.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

“I know enough to know he’s a grade A asshole.” The man scoffed, “Sounds like you’d be better without him.”

“Yeah, well he thought that about me too.”

“He break up with you?” The guy asked nonchalantly but the question had you trying to mask your hurt.

“Yeah because I’m still not good enough for a guy that treated me like absolute shit,” You felt your voice raising again as your throat became hoarse, “Cause all men are fucking assholes.”

“Listen here, princess. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I ain’t your boyfriend.”

The man continued to talk to you on the phone, even making sure you were okay before hanging up as you stepped inside the club with tears streaming down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realised you’d been crying— the slightest bit of kindness on the phone when he asked you if you were gonna be okay had you sobbing as you rejoined your friends.

But what you don’t expect is to wake up to a text from the same wrong number the next morning.

“You always go around giving random strangers shit on the phone, sweetheart?”

Originally I was gonna have this where Kirishima was your boyfriend and he died, and you keep calling his voicemail to hear his voice until one day the voicemail box is full and so the number redirects to Bakugou’s phone but I didn’t wanna kill Kiri😂😭

[hennyjwrites]

Hi! I have a fluffy Aaron Hotchner request:

Aaron with a BAU reader who LOVES all things stereotypically “girly”, like always wearing cute skirts and pretty tops, being up to date on the latest fashion trends, and having the cutest stationary possible, the whole works. But something happens and she starts feeling insecure about being so girly in a very professional and male dominated field. Aaron saves the day by giving her lots of reassurance (and maybe even a kiss <3)

Everyone was used to your bubbly personality, and colorful clothing. Some were confused on how you could remain so cheerful and nice, with your job. All you saw was grueling and horrible things everyday. But somehow you still remained a nice woman with an even more beautiful personality. That's what drew Aaron Hotchner to you. Everyone knew you and your fiancé were complete opposites but that's why you both were perfect for each other.

A case in Alaska had everyone's fuse short. The police officers who were supposed to be helping you with the case, were icing you and your team out. It was like the battle of the forces between you guys. The BAU team tried their hardest to not let the snobby comments, and run over interviews bother them but it was getting hard. You walked through the station, in your pink t-shirt, and light pink jeans carrying trays of coffee and donuts. You were trying to ease everyone's minds.

Your team graciously took your offer with small smiles and thank you’s. Walking through the precinct, setting the snacks down on the officers desk, some took your gesture nicely. As you went to sit one down in front of an officer, he looked up at you.

“You think filling us up with coffee and donuts is suddenly going to put us on the same side?” He spoke standing in front of you. The vein in his forehead was bulging to the point it looked painful. You were confused, you were just trying to do a nice gesture for everyone. “I just thought-“ you spoke gently in order not to cause an issue.

“You thought what, pinky?” He smeared. “You thought that coming here, dressed like a kid handing out treats like a easy going bitch, would make everyone all of a sudden get along.” He took a step close to you, making one of the other officers take a step closer to the situation in worry. “Hey, Mike, why don't you just lay off?” She spoke up. “No! How about Mrs. Pink Perfect over here take her smug team and get the hell out of my town!.” His outburst made you jump.

Your team snapped towards him from his outburst. Aaron could see from your body language that you were timid. “What's going on here?” Aarons stone cold voice interrupted. You peaked up at him, a look of sadness on your face. Looking between both, you and the cop, Aaron frown dropped more. “Watch how you talk to my agents, officer, we understand that we are in your jurisdiction but don’t forget that we were invited by your boss. The next time this happens you will be reported for insubordination.”

When the officer backed down Aaron looked at you as a sign to follow him before turning on his heel. You followed behind him quickly, setting the treats on a nearby table. Aaron waited for you to enter the room before shutting the door behind you.

“Are you alright honey?” His tough unit chief act dropped to the loving man you knew he was.

You sighed, looking down at your clothes. “Maybe I do look like a child,” you thought. “I'm fine Aaron.” You smiled, sadly making him frown at you. He knew when you were lying.

“Whatever, officer Jones said to you, just know it wasn't true.” He told you, ignoring your untrue statement.

You sighed knowing you couldn’t hide anything from him. “Do you?” You paused. “Do you think I'm childish?” You asked, sadly. Aaron looked at you confused, but waited for you to elaborate more. “Officer Mike said that I look like a child from my outfit choices.”

“Baby.” Aaron spoke softly. You looked up at him, with a saddened look. Aaron could feel his heart breaking at the sight. “I think that you are the most wonderful woman I've ever met. Your clothes bring out the brightness in everyone's world, especially with this job. Don't let someone ruin your style.`` He picked up your chin, and placed a small kiss on your lips.

When you smile into the kiss, he pulls away to see your small smile. “You alright?” When you nod your head. He pulls you towards the door. “If it makes you feel any better, his suit is too tight, he's cutting off the circulation around his throat.” He mumbled, making you giggle as you walked out the room and back to your job.

[thespiritssaidso]

Give Shawn the Dress, Dammit!

Summary: Basically the same as the episode Weekend Warriors except Shawn gets to wear the nurse’s outfit

Notes: I have no idea how the fuck a dress from the civil war is made, specifically one with hoops. I don’t know the structure. So give me some leniency here if I wrote the dress wrong.

Juliet left the car and trotted over to where Shawn and Gus were standing, one of whom was holding a dress. “Hey, what’s up guys?”

“Jules!” Shawn and Gus ran up to her. “You're going to get a call from a very irate Sally Reynolds saying two guys just drove by and stole her dress. Just ignore it, okay?”

She was extra confused now. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Gus started explaining. “Sally was a target. Shawn’s gonna put on that dress, and wait for someone to shoot him.”

Shawn nodded along. “Yeah but- the plan sounds a lot better when you don’t say it like that.”

“What?”

“Listen, detective.” Shawn turned back to Juliet. “We have reason to believe that the intended target was Sally Reynolds. Now we’ve stolen her dress,” he held up said dress, “we’re gonna catch the yellow-bellied son-of-a-bitch red handed.” He paused to take a breath. “I forced the ending, that’s horrible.”

“So, risking getting shot is the only way to solve the case?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then we should stop the battle!”

“No, we can’t. It’s too late. They’re gonna start in less than a minute. Listen, Juliet…please let us go?” They’re both bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

Juliet doesn’t say anything, mulling over her choices in her head.

After a minute or two of tense silence, she wordlessly marched to the back door of the car she came in and opened it, rummaging around for something. When she resurfaced she had a bullet proof vest. “If you’re going out there, you might as well be protected.”

——————

“Breathe out, loosen up.”

“Ow ow ow ow!”

“Sorry Shawn!”

“No no, it’s fine, this wasn’t exactly made to fit me. Now just zip- AGH!”

“Sorry!”

“Is it done yet? Please tell me it’s done.”

“You’re all good.” Juliet patted the zipper on his back.

Shawn straightened up, and tried to take a breath. It was difficult, and it made him feel like he was back in high school, wearing his binder. It wasn’t a terrible thing to remember. But it wasn’t exactly a fond memory either.

“Here.” Juliet handed him a helmet. He shoved the it on, fumbling a bit with the buckle.

Gus grabbed Shawn by the shoulders. “Alright remember, the fifth cannon boom is your cue to shoot whoever's playing Quantrill.”

“Right.” Shawn nodded, but then gave his friend a strange look. “Wait, how do you know that?”

“I read the manual. Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t open the manual, it was like War and Peace. There were seventeen chapters.”

“It’s the manual, Shawn.”

“It was this thick!” He held up his hands roughly 6 inches apart, emphasizing the sheer size of it.

“Guys!”

“Right, sorry Jules.”

She just shook her head, and started helping Shawn tie the bonnet.

“Shawn, please be careful.”

“And don’t die.”

“Gus!”

“What? I don’t want my best friend to die!”

Shawn just began to ignore them at this point, and started talking to himself. “Okay. Okay. You got this you got this you got this.”

As the fifth canon went off, he shot out of the tent, grabbing the bayonet from the table nearby and running to his spot. Shawn hefted the gun up to his shoulder, and aimed at the new actor standing in as Captain Quantrill.

“It’s just a reenactment. It’s not real. You’re not actually shooting that guy.” he muttered to, hyping himself up as he pulled the trigger.

Pow!

The captain dramatically fell, and rolled down the side of the hill like in the rehearsal.

Shawn quickly looked to the tree, checking to see if the shooter had come back. There was no one. That was odd. He looked at the trunk where Gus and Juliet were standing. They seemed just as confused as he was.

He hitched the skirts and jogged back over to them. “Did you see anything?”

Gus shook his head no. “Nothing.”

Juliet cocked her gun. “I’m gonna double check the nurse’s tent. You two stay put.”

As she ran off, Shawn said, “That’s weird. Nobody came.”

“Well, at least you’re out of danger now.”

They both turn to walk back to the med tent, but Gus kicks something. He freezes, as does Shawn. He kicks it again, hearing a metallic clang. They share a look with each other and begin brushing off grass to reveal a manhole cover.

Shawn tilted his head. “Well I wonder where this leads.”

They grabbed the handle, straining themselves while moving it oh so slowly. When they got it off, Gus noticed something crucial that would hinder them. “Isn’t that gonna get in the way?” Gus pointed at Shawn’s dress, which was much wider than the manhole itself.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Shawn put his hand to his chin in a thinking gesture.

“Then take it off.”

“Dude, I am not taking this off, it took too long to put on!”

“Well figure something out!”

Shawn thought for a minute, then had an idea. He dug through the little pockets of the dress and grabbed his Swiss knife, and started cutting little holes in the fabric and ripping the metal hoops out.

The end result was a — somewhat — regular dress, though it was a bit longer than before. “Alright, let’s go!”

——————

Behind one of the grey tents, another manhole cover was lifted up from underneath. Shawn peaked out, taking in his surroundings before hefting himself completely out.

“Watch your head.” The plumage of Gus’ feather hat pokes out. Shawn grimaced when he noticed a bit of… something on it. “Aw, did you get sewage on your feather?”

Gus doesn’t respond, simply climbing up and out of the hole. They both shuffle over to the tent, peering around it.

“We’ve crossed to the other side of the creek bed!” Gus pointed out.

“The police accounted for all the Union soldiers, but nobody’s considered that the murderer could have come from this side. After all, this was the bad side, right?”

“You know that’s right.”

Shawn looks over to the tent flap, and swiftly snuck inside of it with Gus close behind. Immediately, Shawn found something.

“Now, I ask you: who goes out on the battlefield without their boots?”

Gus shrugged. “Maybe someone has bunions.”

Shawn gave him a disbelieving look. “Bunions, Gus? Really? That's what you're bringing to the table? I'm trying to solve a murder here.” His bonnet and helmet were really starting to squeeze his head, and it was giving him a migraine. Shawn untied the bonnet and helmet, setting them down on the little table as well as the boots. It wasn’t like he would need them anymore. Besides, they were ruining his hair. He began rummaging underneath the table.

“I deal with bunions every day at work, Shawn. They hurt. They hurt people. That's a perfectly logical assumption.”

“Oh yeah? What about this?” With a little flourish, Shawn grabbed a uniform and presented it to Gus. “No tunic!”

Gus snatched the uniform from Shawn and inspected it. He held it up to himself as he said, “This is Mahoney’s!”

Shawn looked closer at the uniform, and a lightbulb went off in his head. He dug through the dress pockets once more, fishing out the brass button from earlier and held it up to the coat, where there were two small holes placed exactly where a button would go.

“The brass button.” Shawn muttered.

“Mahoney did it.” Gus whispered.

They both started jumping up and down, stimming from excitement.

“That’s why he had that sticky musket! He must have got sap on it from that notch in the tree!”

“Woah woah this doesn’t track. Why kill Sally? She’s hot. They’re friends. She even wrote his insurance policy-“

Shawn’s interrupted by a loud BANG. They both flinch a bit at the sudden explosion.

“That was C-4!” Gus pointed out.

“That didn’t come from the battlefield, it came from the south.”

Shawn and Gus instantly come to the same conclusion at the same time. They looked at each other in the eyes, confirming it.

“I solved the crime!”

“No, I did!”

“I said it first.”

“I identified the uniform.”

“I found the button near the tree,” Shawn quickly reached out and tapped Gus’ shoulder twice. “Tap tap no take backs.”

“That's not fair, Shawn. I was identifying the C-4 sound.”

“Dude, you snooze you lose, Gus. I don't have to tell you.”

Gus, frustrated, starting shoving his plumed hat up and down on his head.

Shawn pointed back outside the tent. “That manhole we found connects to the sewer. It's going to lead us right to our killer. Let's go.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! We're going in by ourselves?”

“What, are you crazy?”

Shawn and Gus quickly rushed out of the tent and- well, I’m sure you know how the rest goes.

They find Mahoney stealing his own artifacts and confront him — with some help from the reenactment soldiers— and take him to the station where Shawn figured out that it was not only Mahoney but Sally as well. The two had been attempting insurance fraud. But Mahoney didn’t want to share, so he tried to kill Sally. Poe rolls past his mark, sees Mahoney in the act, and is murdered. Case closed.

——————

It was late in the evening, and the sun was starting to set. Shawn was running to the many tents that had yet to be put away. He had forgotten his Gameboy there, and had to convince Gus to drive him back in the Blueberry to go grab it. He just hoped no one had nabbed it while he was gone.

Shawn still hadn’t taken off the dress. Really, it had just slipped his mind. But he had noticed he was still wearing it at least an hour ago, and realized he didn’t actually want to take it off. It felt… nice, wearing it. Except for the bullet proof vest. That he could do without. He changed out of the vest and voila: comfy-ish dress.

He was exiting one of the tents, Gameboy in hand, when he noticed Lassiter. The detective was still in costume, meandering around the battlefield.

“Lassie!” Shawn started jogging over to the man.

He watched as Lassiter’s shoulders slumped, and turn around to face him. “What are you doing here, Spencer?” His voice didn’t have its usual bite to it, just sounded a bit… tired.

“Oh, I needed to grab my Gameboy — which I found-” he waved it around for emphasis. “-in one of the tents. But this looks more fun!” That was a lie. Walking around aimlessly sounded boring to Shawn. But he wanted to spend some time with Lassiter, boring be damned.

He just gave Shawn a resigned sigh. “I don’t suppose I could stop you, anyway.”

Shawn gave him a big grin, and began walking alongside him.

“Spencer, why in the world are you still wearing that dress?”

“Why are you still wearing your uniform?”

Lassiter huffed. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

Shawn just shrugged. “Alright then.”

“It’s just- isn’t that… uncomfortable? There’s no way that fits you.”

He smiled to himself. “Nah, it’s not really too bad. I took off the bullet proof vest, so it’s not too tight. Brings back memories, actually.”

Now Lassiter was confused. “Memories? What, did you try wearing dresses or something in high school?”

Shawn could’ve taken offense to that. But he decided not to, opting to shake his head no. “Just reminds me of a time when I had to wear a binder to even look half this good.”

Not knowing what else to say, Lassiter let out a small “Oh,” and didn’t add anything else.

“‘Course, the binder was a different kind of…” Shawn gestured to his chest as he said this. “…tight. But it’s the same idea.”

They fell into silence, taking in their surroundings. The sky was pinkish, blending beautifully into purple and blue. The clouds were colored a soft coral pink and cream orange. The air was slowly filled with a soft euphony of various sounds. Crickets chirping, frogs croaking, the whistle of a gentle breeze rustling the long grasses.

Shawn breaks the quiet. “You know, I did a little bit of reading earlier-”

Lassiter scoffed at that. “You? Reading? Please.”

“As strange as that sounds, yes. I did. It was awful, zero stars, do not recommend. There were all these big words- and don’t even get me started on the lack of pictures-”

“Get to the point, Spencer.”

“Right. Yeah. So, I was reading about your great-great-grandfather, Colonel Muskrat-”

“It’s Colonel Muscum T. Lassiter.”

“-I’ve heard it both ways.” He was getting sidetracked. “That guy, who you’re dressed up as, I got curious-”

“Mhm.”

“-and I noticed there was a page in there about him and the… uhh, the nurse, the one I’m dressed up as-”

“Sally Reynolds.”

Shawn raised his eyebrows. “No kidding? That’s her name? That is a huge coincidence.”

“Yes, it is. Now what about her?”

“Right right right. There was a page in there about those two.”

Lassiter didn’t know where this was going. “…Go on.”

“And uhm, apparently, after the war they got together. And eventually married.”

They stopped walking, and Lassiter turned to stare at Shawn. “If you’re insinuating what I think you are, it’s gonna be a hard no. Not in a million years.” He quickly returned to his stride, leaving Shawn standing there.

Wow. Oh, wow. That- that actually kind of hurt. Shawn shook his head, and quickly jogged to catch up with Lassiter.

“Why-”

“Spencer,” Lassiter stopped walking again, halting Shawn’s little run. “Don’t take this the wrong way- actually, take this any way you want: I would rather reenact the civil war stark naked than go on a date with you.”

Woah. Okay, that hurt him even more. But Shawn hid this expertly under a nonchalant grin. “Now that I would pay to see.”

Lassiter gave a mocking smile. “Haha. It’s still no.”

Surprisingly, Shawn didn’t keep pressuring him. He just raised his hands in defense. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“Not going to think about it-?”

“Spencer.”

“Even a little bit-?”

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to shoot you.”

He put his hands behind his back, walking backwards. “Okay, Lassie. Let me know when you change your mind.”

“You mean if I change my mind.”

“Sure, sure. Yeah. Whatever you say.” Shawn turned, hitching up his skirts, and ran off to where he knew the blueberry was waiting for him.

——————

AO3 link

[meamiya]

HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY- MIYA ATSUMU

synopsis♱ ‣ atsumu has unintentionally stood you up on more than one occasion and you’ve finally had enough

cw♱ ‣ angst, hurt/no comfort, sfw (he’s still perfect to me)

word count♱ ‣ 1.1k words

author’s note♱ ‣ my deepest apologies for this piece that I wrote while my hormonal depression was acting up. hopefully the atsumu smut *wink* I’m working on will convince you all to forgive me for this horrible crime.

Your heels click on the tiled floor as you make your way to the living room, boisterous laughter and the sound of the tv resounding through the apartment.

You stop short once you reach the group of men who are glued to the video game displayed on the television, in different states of disarray across the couch and floor, before you’re noticed by Bokuto.

“Y/N! You’re home!”

That alerts the remainder of the audience to your presence and 3 pairs of eyes flash towards you.

“Baby! Welcome home! Where did you go looking so pretty?” Your boyfriend exclaims with a shit-eating grin that you so badly wanted to rip off of his face.

Sakusa greets you with a polite Good Evening.

“That’s such a nice dress, y/n. Was it girls night?” Hinata inquires and you so badly wish he was correct.

“Evening, everyone. And no it wasn’t girls night, I was celebrating my anniversary. Alone.” Your voice is stone cold and as you turn to walk towards your room you manage to catch a glimpse of the blood draining from Atsumu’s face.

“Baby, wait!” You hear from behind you but your pace doesn’t falter.

As you pass the threshold of your shared bedroom, you feel a hand on your shoulder turn you towards the last man you wanted to talk to at that moment, your gaze meeting his panic-stricken one.

“I’m so sorry, I completely forgot. And I got so distracted when the boys asked to come over to play video games, and-“

At that point you had tuned him out and resumed your walk towards your closet. Your feet were starting to ache from how long you had stood outside the restaurant waiting for his arrival and your dress was slightly damp from the unexpected drizzled you’d encountered.

Atsumu goes to grab your hand this time to gain your attention, but you pull it back as if you’d been burned.

“Don’t touch me. I waited more than 2 hours for you and I hadn’t received as much as a text back. This date has been planned for months and our anniversary is on the same date every year. I’m tired and cold so please give me some space.” Your voice is level but the lump in your throat only intensifies as you glance up at his apologetic face.

You’d spent hours shopping for the perfect outfit to celebrate your 3rd anniversary with your boyfriend, likewise with your hair and makeup. You’d practically skipped out of the front door, excusing the fact that he had not answered your message about his whereabouts, assuming that he’d been driving on his way to meet up with you after his practice. Instead, you’d been met with no date, no messages and a group of volleyball players in your living room after being stood up by one of their own.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you recall their awkward gazes and remember that they could hear your argument through the open door.

You swiftly grab a random pair of sweats and head into the en-suite before Atsumu can get another word out. Locking the door behind you, you slide down to the ground and bury your head in your trembling hands.

After a few deep breaths, to prevent the tears from falling, you change into your sweats and muster a glance in the mirror. Your makeup had surprisingly stood up against the drizzle but the same couldn’t be said about your hair as you take in the few stands that have started to curl in odd directions. You work quickly to remove your hours of work and tie your hair away from your face, successfully ignoring the soft raps against the door and the voice quietly calling your name.

One last deep breathe and you make your way to exit the bathroom, pulling on the handle with such force that Atsumu falls slighting, catching himself on the door frame.

Another slew of apologies and begging for another date as a do-over for his mistake resound but you ignore his pleas. If it weren’t the 3rd time over the last few months that he’d begged at your feet for a redo, you’d merely tell him that he owed you with a teasing glare, much as you had the first time he’d stood you up for a longer training session but it had now become a pattern and you weren’t naive enough to believe he wouldn’t do it a 4th time.

Instead you grab your handbag, exchange your heels for a pair of sneakers, and make your way to the front door once again, bypassing the group of men who look as if they don’t know if they should make a beeline for the door or stay and help defuse the situation. You speak before they can make a decision.

“It was nice seeing everyone again. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” You quickly turn towards the front door before a frantic hand grabs yours, ignoring your sharp glare.

“Baby, please! I know I made another mistake but please don’t leave. We can talk it through, please!” Unshed tears line his waterline, threatening to fall but you’re so physically and emotionally drained that they don’t tug on your heartstrings as you know they have in the past.

“I’m tired of talking, Atsumu.” He flinches as you use his full name instead of the loving ‘tsumi that you usually refer to him as. “All I’ve been doing is talking but nothing changes. I just need some space.”

His hand squeezes your limp one that he still has in his tight grasp, as if letting it go would mean letting you go forever.

“At least tell me where you’re going. I just wanna know that you’re safe.” You hate that his concern warms your heart the slightest bit.

“I’m just going to my parents house for the night and I’ll return tomorrow. I’ll be ready to talk then.” A bowl of your mother’s homemade soup would quickly lift your spirits and you desperately needed advice from a woman who has been married to an equally as stress-inducing man for the past 30 years.

Atsumu reluctantly releases your hand after a moment of silence and whispers an “Alright.”

When he makes no move to withhold you any longer, you turn on your heel and make your way to exit the apartment.

The barely audible “I love you, y/n.” that sounds from behind you, through trembling lips, almost makes your turn back into the apartment. Almost.

[sweethibiscustea82]

can I ask about ur au? :33

of course!! All under the cut and stuff, all of this is just bits and pieces of stuff because there’s not a super clear like outline of events and stuff but here’s some basic thoughts and ideas and stuff lol. Uh warning its very long, very rambley and kind of just jumps from one thought to another sorry 😭

Okay so basically this isn’t a very nice au to Steven sadly (I do it out of love for the character 💗💗), when I first got back into Steven universe I kept rewatching the diamond days episodes and I really enjoyed them. So basically this au is called diamond years, where Steven ends up staying for a very long time (about I wanna say year and a half) on home world pretending to be pink diamond so that he can change the diamonds ways.

This takes a while though, he’s failed again and again at trying to talk to white, so end he focuses on trying to change blue and yellow’s minds first, on not hurting defenceless planets and trying to stand up to white (they never take him up on standing up to white until about the last year). At first he is completely put off and ignored just like in the show but the longer he stays there the more they begin to listen to him. But despite how well Steven is doing at changing homeworld from the inside, it’s been taking a toll on him.

He finds himself questioning his identity more than ever before, and it really stresses him out. He also feels bad for bringing the gems into this plan with him, he feels like he’s forced them back into their homeworld lives and it makes him feel horribly guilty a lot of the time. In my head it’s like all of this fighting in the rebellion just to end back up here serving diamonds and it sort of starts to make Steven feel like a disgusting person. Like pearl doesn’t belong to him and amethyst shouldn’t have to wear limb inhancers but like whenever he like debates it with blue or yellow they chastise him.

I think eventually he’s permitted to go visit beach city, as a gift for his good behaviour since he came back and it makes him so happy that he finally gets to be Steven again, but whenever he’s there the moments are sort of bittersweet because he knows that if he messes up at all on homeworld, he might lose getting to see his friends on earth. So he throws himself even more into the pink diamond role.

When the first year finally passes and he’s made a significant amount of progress (not enough in his mind) he’s never Steven in public. Only when no one else but his family is around does he consider himself actually Steven, yellow got on him about his pearl calling him Steven still after a year of being on home world officially. They offer to help like recondition her but he refuse’s absolutely. So now pearl calls him pink in public, which sets it in stone in his mind that oh right now I’m not Steven.

When Steven turns 16, is when he not only updates his pink diamond outfit to something newer and slightly different, but his eyes look like pinks and it doesn’t go away even after he stops living on homeworld. Pearl is the first one to notice it and tell him and he’s horrified. The next days when some of the other gems starts to see his eyes, he can tell they’re a little shocked, a little uncomfortable. None of them bring it up besides amethyst who’s like woah cool eyes Steven cause she’s trying to be jokey. It doesn’t work but he laughs.

All this time he’s seen white maybe a dozen times and she’s barely even talked to him. He’s making changes, blue and yellow are more merciful but it’s still not enough. So around the end of the second year blue and yellow finally actually help him go confront white, and he has relief all of this all of this horrible pain and issues and pink diamond stuff wasn’t for nothing and so when they go confront her it starts the yk white diamond confrontation in the show except she’s like oh starlight you’ve been doing so good, why did you have to mess it up now. And this is the first time in so long that he’s protested about being pink, he’s Steven and he gets punished for it with white pulling his gem out to prove that pinks still there and that he isn’t.

It plays out mostly the same as the actual show except what happened in like the third episode of the diamond days arc, happened 2 years after the first episode of the diamond days arc lol.

And so now after that huge fight stuff he’s free, he’s Steven. But he still has the lingering feelings of being pink for so long. When he steps into his house for the first time he doesn’t even know what to do really. He hasn’t seen some of his favourite foods besides the things Connie sneaks in for him, he hasn’t watched tv in so long. he hasn’t seen almost all of his friends on earth. They all celebrate him coming back, he’s fixed everything but why does he still feel so just empty, like he’s living someone else’s life. It’s horrible, that’s how he felt when he first had to act like pink and now he feels like that for his own life.

His friends tell him he doesn’t have to act so formal around them when they’re out in public. People don’t greet him by saluting their diamond. And he doesn’t miss it at all, he’s happy that he’s finally home but it takes so long for him to get used to being himself again.

Anyways sorry for like dumping a pile of random thoughts on you lol, I hope you find it good. I don’t know how good the ideas are at all, it just started from my fascination with characters pretending to be someone and then the lines blurring between them and the person they’re impersonating

oh and uh here’s an official reference for DY!Steven

[kiankiwi]

Would you possibly write another cg!Jacob fic? Maybe him soothing little!reader to sleep after a bad day :)

Jacob could always tell when you were not okay.

As soon as he realized that today, he took you to a corner alone to check on you. "What's up baby you okay?" You nodded, biting at your thumb. "Hey, baby no thumb please." But you knew you couldn't have your paci for a while as you guys were in public getting fitted for your outfits for an award show that you were going to in a few nights with Jacob. And all day today your brain was racked with anxiety about the red carpet you were getting fitted for. What if you made a fool of yourself? What if you tripped or ripped your dress or embarrassed Jake?

You averted your eyes from Jacob as he took your hand in his to avoid you biting at your thumb nail. "Sorry daddy, I just... my heads being mean..." With yourself teetering on headspace, that was the easiest way to explain your anxiety.

Jacob sighed and you tensed, afraid you had upset him. "Baby, I can't be daddy here. Here, how about I tell them I'm not feeling well and we figure this out at home okay?" Your eyes lit up with hope. You could go down at home and you really needed it. "Go home?" You asked, tears filling your eyes without your permission. "Yeah baby, here you wait for me here and no thumb okay? I have a paci for you in the car.." You nodded as you sat and waited for Jacob to formulate his lie.

Back in the car on the way home, you started feeling bad all over again. Jacob had stuff to do to get ready for this red carpet and you got in the way. You and your stupid anxiety was causing him to ignore his responsibilities in order to take care of you. You felt like a horrible burden to him.

Your paci fell out of your mouth as the horrible thoughts circling around your brain caused you to begin to cry. "What's the matter baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong?" You curled up in your seat away from Jacob and sobbed into your stuffed owl. "Baby, can you talk to daddy please? I can't fix it unless I know what's wrong?"

"M-m-mean thoughts!" You forced out as you continued to cry. Jacob knew from years of decoding your littlespace speak that that meant you were having bad anxiety. But you were much too upset right now to talk about it or be talked through it. Jacob just needed to comfort you and figure out what you were anxious about later when you were able to articulate your thoughts better. "Your brain is being a meanie again? Okay sweetie, you can cry if you need to. Daddy is right here okay? You're safe and daddy's not mad at you. We can talk about it more when you're a little bigger okay? But right now daddy's just taking you home and he'll take care of you okay? You're alright sweetie, it's alright to cry. Do you wanna hold daddy's hand?" You reached forward and held onto Jacob's hand that he offered you, squeezing hard as you continued to sob.

Once you were home, Jacob got out of the car and came over to your door, opening it and crouching down to your level. "Hi baby, can you and daddy take some deep breaths? It'll make your chest feel better." Jacob rubbed his palm in the center of your chest, the spot you've told him hurts most when you experience a lot of anxiety. "H-hurts." Jacob nodded. "I know it does, can you take some deep breaths for me please? Then we can go inside and get all cozy and talk about what's going on in that little head of yours." You bit your paci in fear, shaking your head. "N-no tankoo!"

Jacob grabbed your hands as they started to shake. "Okay baby, we don't have to talk about it yet but we're still gonna breathe together okay? Ready, in for four..." You and Jacob took some deep breaths together and you gripped your owl stuffy as you calmed down slightly. "Good job baby." Jacob picked you up and held you tight as he brought you inside.

"Alright baby, let's get you cozy." Jacob brought you into the nursery and laid you down with your owl. "Here we go bubs." He brought over your favorite onesie and changed you quickly. He smiled at you softly. "You look so sleepy bubs." You couldn't help yourself, you let out a yawn. "Oooh big yawn baby. Such a sleepy baby. Do you want a bottle before we nap?" You nodded clinging to him yet again as he picked you up. "It's okay baby, daddy's not going anywhere." Jacob said as he gave you a forehead kiss. You whined and pushed your face into his shoulder, hiding. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it baby? We can wait till you're bigger if you want?" He asked as he quickly made you a bottle for naptime.

"Tiny!" You whined, wrapping your arm around Jacob's neck. "You want to stay tiny and talk about it later?" You nodded. "Okay, we can do that." Jacob handed you the fresh bottle and brought you back upstairs to your nursery.

You held onto your bottle as Jacob sat with you in the rocking chair and adjusted you so you could lay down. He smiled as he began rocking. "Hi baby. I love you so much. Yes, I love you." Your eyes misted again as you drank from the bottle. "Oh no baby, no sad it's okay!" You whimpered, bringing your hand up to knuckle at your eye. "It's alright sweetheart, are we just having a bad day? Is that it?" You nodded, curling up against Jacob's belly. He began running his hand through your hair to comfort you. "You're okay baby, it's all okay. Once you wake up from your nap, we can start over again okay? We can still have a good day." You nodded as you drank the rest of your bottle.

Jacob set the empty bottle down by his feet and continued rocking bringing his hand down and cupping your face in his hand rubbing his thumb across your cheek. "It's okay baby, quit fighting it, you can sleep." You whimpered as you closed your eyes. "You're okay baby, I promise, it's alright. It's just a bad day." Jacob continued rubbing your face until he was sure you were 100% asleep. "There we go. Sleep tight baby." He whispered as he stood up and transferred you carefully to your crib.

Once you were up, you would be able to start your day over in hopefully a better mood. He could talk about what was bothering you later when you were back in adult headspace. For now, you could just sleep.

**

@mooodyblue @crypticminx

ANOTHER CG!JACOB FIC WOOOOOOO