#and his- If you want him to wear a dress he will

[witchthewriter]

Simon Riley who took you home after a night out, expecting sex but you couldn't go through with it.

You were both already naked, your hands on his chest, straddling the large man when you just ... couldn't do it. Being a virgin at this age felt embarrassing, and tonight you wanted to get rid of the title.

Simon, saw the dismay on your face and wrapped a blanket around you. Your face was bright red from embarrassment, god, what was holding you back?

"it's alrigh' love."

You felt the need to leave. You hadn't given him what he wanted...so you guessed it was time to hit the road.

So, both of you got up to do very different things.

You started putting on your dress and shoes, but when Simon turned around, he had a pair of his shirts and large sweat pants for you to wear.

His gruff voice was so gentle.

"You don't 'ave to leave..."

You weren't expecting this. There were no alarm bells, nothing in your stomach to say 'run.' But Simon Riley knew the dangers that women faced and he never wanted to make another woman feel that way.

"I uh, just want you to know, you can do whatever you like. I just ... fucking hell. What I'm tryin' to say is, I'd like to spend more time with ya...if that's alrigh' by you..."

He offered you a shower, and god did you want one. Surprisingly enough, Simon had pretty good products in his bathroom. None of that 30 in 1 shampoo. Clean towels. Everything was in perfect order; neat, tidy.

When you had changed into the perfectly oversized clothes (he is like 6'6?), and walked downstairs, Simon was waiting on the lounge with various drink options, and a sheepish grin.

"Thought you'd need some water, but I also have whiskey, coffee, tea..."

"Oh, thank you! Um, I'm fine with water...and maybe a tea."

"Woman after me own heart," he said with a grin and went on to make the best cuppa he's made in his life.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: yandere, controlling behavior, coercive control, infantilization, extreme patronization, gaslighting, manipulation, food pusher, forced eating 

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about overcaring boyfriend…

You know, he’s always asking if you’ve eaten today, if you’ve drunk enough water, if you’re wearing enough layers. Typical boyfriend stuff. Only it’s not. No, far from it.

Because he does so by telling you off. Pulling a sweater over your little party dress to conceal you. It’s cold outside, he’ll say, kissing your forehead with a smile—he wouldn’t want you getting the sniffles. And besides, you can undress for him when the two of you’re alone—there’s no need to do it in front of the world.

Scolding you for getting too drunk even when you’re just tipsy. Shaking his head and clicking his tongue at you, urging you to drink water as if it’s your first time touching alcohol. Staying sober himself so that he can take care of you—somebody’s going to have to drive you home at the end of the night, or who knows where you’ll end up! 

Telling you that you’re flirting too much, causing all the guys to stare at you even when you’ve only been talking to your girlfriends. Purposefully getting into a fight with you so that he can excuse you both, apologizing to everyone for what a difficult drunk you are—making you so embarrassed and ashamed you end up following him to the car with your tail tucked between your legs—also because he keeps your phone and purse on him, for safekeeping of course, so you don’t forget or lose them somehow.

“I’m not hungry,” you mumble under your breath. 

He sighs, standing behind you, leaning his hands against the back of the chair you’re seated in. “You say that, but I can’t trust you, can I?”

His head drops to your shoulder, cheek to cheek, hugging you from behind while his arms slip down your chest, feeling your ribs with a curious and clinical touch.

“I know you’re body better than anyone and I can tell you’ve been skipping meals.”

You shake your head. “I haven’t.” It’s the truth—you really haven’t. It’s normal for bodies to change a little every now and again. But it’s not as if he’d ever accept that as an excuse.

“I don’t want to argue,” is all he says. “Now, be a good girl and eat your cake.”

If it were a piece of cake, you’d have gotten it well over with already. But the platter placed in front of you was enough to feed an entire dinner party. Pink and triple-stacked with mountains of decorative buttercream frosting—god only knows what else is inside.

“I’m not eating an entire cake.” That would be ridiculous. Anyone would agree. But not him. No, you know how serious he is.

“You wouldn’t have to if you just ate when I told you earlier.” 

He speaks softly, in a manner as if it isn’t even your fault to begin with but his own. He’s in charge, after all. All he’s accusing you of is being a handful.

“But here we are…”

He grabs the spoon he’d laid out—no, not a cake fork or a teaspoon, but a tablespoon—and proceeds to gather one big mouthful for you. 

“One drunken, starved girlfriend and one tired, concerned boyfriend.”

You shake your head and seal your lips as he brings the portion up to your mouth.

“If I eat all that, I’m gonna be sick. I just wanna go to bed–” you plead, but he cuts you off.

“It’d be better for you to get sick now instead of tomorrow.” His other hand takes your chin soft but strictly, holding you firmly in place. “Come on now, say ah.”

You’re crying by the end of it. Throat sore and belly overfull, feeling nauseous beyond belief.

“Last bite,” he says, and you no longer have the strength to refuse, even when you doubt there’s any room left to spare. You force it down, and he praises you for it with a kiss on your frosting-smeared cheek. “Good job.”

Between the cake, the alcohol, and his coddling, of course, you feel sick to your stomach.

“What a mess…” he drawls while he holds your hair back from the toilet bowl. 

You feel filthy, sitting on the bathroom tiles between his legs as he rubs your back and coos. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, or who knows who’d bother taking care of you—honestly, you’re worse than a baby sometimes. Utterly hopeless.”

He kisses your exposed nape. You swear you feel him smile.

“I’m just kidding. I’ll always take care of you no matter what.”

You hurl again—nothing but pink cream and sprinkles coming out.

“Even if you had no legs and no arms. Even if you were blind and deaf and mute, I’d still be here.” You shudder while he vows. 

You know he means it, too. Suppose that’s a little romantic. It’s just you can’t shake the feeling that he’d prefer for you to be that way.

“You feeling any better?” he asks.

You nod your head.

“Good. Then let’s get you to bed.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio, young AFO ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Gojo, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sadagios]

Icarus, and the Sunflower

PART TWO: UNFIXABLE ERROR

PROLOGUE: PART ONE

3.4k words below the cut

SOME BEGINNING NOTES: - This AU is only character shipping, and references a lot outside the life series events (evo, hermitcraft, empires, etc). This is not meant to ship the CC’s themselves and if anything alludes to it, it is purely unintentional. - This is not canon-compliant ermmmm i do what i want and i will put every idea i have into this - No more bullet points this time... taking off the baby wheels - This is to add more to the first part! Please read that one before this if you haven't - Tags for this part? Game dev AU, Past BigB/Grian, a lot of BigGri flirting, some characters are real and some are fictional, this is only the prologue (part 2!), Grian is still down bad for Scar, absolutely not beta'd i only have one impulsive braincell, contains some fake chats

I. HALLOWEEN

The game awards have been announced, and it was the talk of the company. Evolutionists’ Portal has been online for 4 months now, and it built itself a dedicated fan base with a peak of about 80k players a month. Updates were still on the way, scheduled for Halloween and Christmas Day.

The team working on Evolutionists’ Portal hoped for a nomination, and maybe even an award. Gria hoped for this, as well, but he was too tired to even think with everything on his plate. Their art director quit suddenly, so he was carrying out two big roles, but even when the past art director was there, he was basically doing most of his work.

The team took notice of his exhaustion and invited him to the company Halloween party. Gria didn’t want to, but Martyn had a brilliant idea for making a bet: Gria believed they would get one nomination, and Martyn believed it would be two. If Gria wins, Martyn will get him breakfast every day until Christmas. If Martyn wins, Gria has to wear an outfit to the party of his choosing. Gria thought it was a harmless bet, and he’d actually benefit from it, so he agreed.

Jimmy is his closest friend in the company, but Jimmy was also busy with his work in Empires. There are talks of a big collaboration and he knows he can’t get ahold of Jimmy until it is settled. One morning, a cup of coffee appeared on his desk with a note attached to it that said,

“You might need a little boost in your morning.”

Gria had no idea who it could be from until he noticed a wrapped piece of warm, chocolate cookie beside the cup. He looked up from his desk and met eyes with Big B, who smiled and gave him a little wave before resuming his work.

His crush on Big B was no secret. The man is funny and handsome, and he and Gria started in the company together. Martyn was the first one to catch it, the way he gets giggly and embarrassed around Big B, and he’s been on Gria’s case since. Pearl found out about it through Martyn’s teasing, but she had the grace not to poke fun at Gria (only sometimes.) Jimmy still hasn’t caught on, and Martyn bursts out laughing every time Jimmy unintentionally third wheels or cockblocks Gria. Gria has an inkling that Big B might’ve noticed it, but he acts the same way around him, which Gria is thankful for.

The nominations were out the morning of the party, and they were nominated for “Best Multiplayer” and “Best Audio Design.” As soon as the news broke out, Martyn walked in stride to the art department and pulled Gria to the parking lot where Martyn’s car was parked. He opened the trunk, pulled something out, and gave it to Gria with a devilish grin.

Martyn: I’m so excited to meet such a popular singer tonight.

Gria peeked inside the dress cover, he wanted to die.

One night, the team went out drinking. Gria had a few more drinks than he should’ve. He doesn’t remember what happened, but Pearl recorded the whole thing; basically, he got so drunk that he started singing nothing but Ariana Grande songs. To put the final nail in the coffin, he might’ve sat on Big B’s lap as he sang one song.

Gria wore the outfit after being manhandled by everyone into wearing it. Big B wasn’t going to the party as he’d said days before, and while Gria was relieved not to embarrass himself, he also wished for Big B to be there.

Gria wore a ridiculously pink two-piece top and skirt, with a white furry shoal attached to gloves. Pearl also lent him her white boots, which surprisingly fit him well (and gave him a few inches.) The room cheered when he walked in, and he was too embarrassed to walk that Jimmy had to drag him around the room.

Pearl wore a cute green dress, which looked a lot like a character from Empires. Jimmy wore a Captain America costume, but instead of a star had a huge letter S at the middle of his chest. Martyn wore a pirate costume. 

Martyn: What a shame Big B isn’t here to see this.

Martyn teased, and Gria wanted to strangle him right there. Then, without warning, a finger poked his cheek. Gria turned and there Big B was, holding a bloody axe in a bloody costume. Gria remembered the game Big B told him about, a zombie game called “The Creaking Dead.” It was one of the things that led them to become friends, their love for zombie games.

The night went by, celebrating both Halloween and their nominations. Empires also had their own share of nominations, and Jimmy was so giddy that night.

Pearl pulled them four to the photo booth before they could get more wasted. Jimmy grabbed a weird-looking fish beanie and Martyn put on a Mickey Mouse headband. Pearl put on a sunflower crown that fit the gold accents in her dress. They made sure to put Gria and Big B at the center of the photo, and Gria tried not to explode with how close they were. Big B suggested they take a Polaroid photo after for keepsake, and before Gria could head out of the room and go home, Big B gave him a Polaroid photo with a message written in Sharpie.

"Glad I came by today, G. Happy Halloween. ♡"

II. VALENTINE’S DAY

Gria and Big B have been talking and texting each other non-stop for months now. People assume they’re dating, but when Jimmy asked, he clarified that they had no label. It’s true; they haven’t done much. They hung around a lot, and they might’ve fooled around during cold December nights, but it was an unspoken, casual thing. At least, that’s what it was for Gria.

On Valentine’s day, Big B invited him for dinner, and everyone teased them about being lovebirds. That night, Big B finally asked Gria to be his boyfriend.

Gria was happy. Overjoyed. Someone as kind and thoughtful as Big B, who treats him so well, wanted them to be exclusive. He wanted Gria. But the smile on Gria’s face slowly faded as his happiness turned into dread. Big B is too nice for him. Too perfect for him. Too much for someone like him.

Gria turned him down without explaining further. He saw the hurt in Big B’s eyes, but the man still treated him the same: with adoration and care.

Big B drove him home, and that was the last time they talked outside of work.

III. MARCH

Gria finally took some time off. Aside from the upcoming April Fools update, there wasn’t much to be done. The tension between him and Big B has been too much to bear, and he can’t shake the guilt he feels each time Big B leaves a warm cup of coffee with a cute note on his desk.

He lurks on the internet, bored out of his mind. He met this person, PotatoNutshell, and became friends over Hermitopia 6.

IV. APRIL FOOLS

< Let's play like cats, let's count to three. >

The gang liked the Alpha version of “The Life Game.” The map is good (which makes Gria proud as he designed it,) and the mechanics are simple enough to get used to.

There are several problems, though. The motion blur is making everyone sick, and the one who had it the roughest was Joel. The UI is also unintuitive, as you have to look at your wrist to see the messages and your health status, which you can easily lose track of. Then, the computer AI characters are indistinguishable from each other. It was supposed to be a battle royal game, but with only the players having unique skins, it feels a bit more like player versus enemy than a competition.

It was understandable, though, that it didn't have much character customization. The remaining two working on the game are a writer and a programmer, and they have no 3D modeling experience at all. Gria figured he could help out and tinker with it when he had time, especially with how the gang loved the game despite all its flaws.

V. SUMMER, a year later

Gria’s old friends finally messaged him that they added more things to the game, and it might be enough for a beta test. The only thing they haven’t figured out is the character models. Gria confirmed if they were planning to release this game, and the two said “no, not yet. Not anytime soon.” That gave Gria all the liberty to simply tinker with the game just for their own enjoyment.

He asked the team if they had any characters they’d like to mod into the game, preferably with 3D models so they wouldn’t have to worry about rigging and animation too much. Skizzleman suggested Hermitopia characters, which Gria wouldn’t contest because this gives him a great excuse to add Scar into the game.

They needed one more character, and Gria remembered the Empires plush on Jimmy’s desk. The team gave him a free plushie of the “Starboy, The Rivendell King” because all plushies of the “Codfather” were sold out, the one Jimmy usually played as. Still, Jimmy keeps the Starboy plushie on his desk and sometimes carries it with him to the breakroom when he takes a short nap. Gria found the image of Jimmy carrying this plush to be adorable, although he will never say it aloud, so he decided to add Starboy as their final character. He also had Gemini and Shadow Lady (as per Joel’s request) 3D models ready, but he’ll probably add them next time. Pearl also isn’t joining their session for now, so it would be good to save her favorite character for another time.

On one Friday night in April, they all logged on and waited to connect to The Life Game’s private server. Gria was excited to play until he received a message from one of his old friends.

A slight chill crawls up Grian’s arm. He gripped his VR headset, a bit hesitant after his conversation with his old friends. After a moment, he shook off his nerves and wore his headset. He looked at the server status reading “5/6 Players” and hovered his controller over the button that would let him play with his friends. Grian ignored the warning bells and hit “Join World.”

VI. HELLO, WORLD

Gria spawned into the world, a bit dizzy from the sunlight blasting into his eyes. He got off on the ground and surveyed his surroundings, and it seemed like the map was different from the last time. In front of him looked like a ruined portal, which he doesn’t remember adding to the map years ago. Could this be something his old friends added to the map for the Evolutionists’ Portal developers to see? Gria smiled at the sentiment. He looted the chest near it, and it felt a bit like cheating. He joined the game late, but he already had golden gear in his first minutes of playing.

He did some resource gathering, something which they learned was crucial from their alpha test. He travelled and spotted a village, and saw Martyn’s character completely raiding it. Out of all of them, Martyn might have been the one who became so immersed in the gameplay. Even before playing, he was discussing tactics and plans in their call. If it ever came down to it, he knows Martyn would be a formidable opponent with how into it he is. 

Gria traversed the map more until he hit the border. There’s no way to get through it, even if you force it. It also seemed like the friendly creatures weren't able to get past it. It’s a bit scary to think about how they’re stuck in this little box until only one of them remains. It’s a good thing all of this is just a game.

Being the creator of the maps for this game, Gria remembers where most of the biomes are on the map. He goes back to the village and spots Big B.

Excited and without thinking, he jumped in front of Big B and surprised him, which made Big B’s character jump back. But, when Big B met his eyes, he immediately laughed and smiled. 

Before Big B could strike up a conversation, Joel’s voice could be heard from a distance, he looked just like himself in real life, but he wore a costume that reminded Gria of Shrek. He shot Big B a quick look and saw he was wearing something similar to his costume during one of their old Halloween parties. Martyn’s character seemed different, too.

Gria noticed the little shop icon on his screen. When he clicked on it, it opened a shop of a multitude of items that can be bought with experience points. He checked out the costume section and saw that costume accessories were fairly cheap. He bought himself a red sweater, and now his character feels more like him.

He noticed someone trailing behind Joel, a blazing head of fire and red eyes. It took him a while to realize that this was Tango Tek from Hermitopia. When he spoke, both Gria and Joel cranked their neck at him, surprised he could speak. Hermitopia had no voice lines. Despite this fact, Joel excitedly conversed with Tango, prompting him to speak more. Gria excused himself, confused at how this was possible.

He went off to gather more resources before he headed to the village. He saw Big B yet again, and his cheeks flushed at how many times he had seen him by himself. Gria’s a bit awkward around him, but Big B greets him with a smile each time. 

Big B: Are you sneaking up on me, G? Gria, giggling: Hello there, B. Whatcha up to? Big B: Trying to survive the first night, and maybe even you? Gria: Well, I don’t think a danger. Not to you. Big B: A danger to my heart, maybe?

Gria bit his lip and walked away. Big B laughed behind him, and he couldn’t fight back his smile. He looked at the ground and saw Martyn’s faint green name tag. He grinned and turned to Big B, “Wanna scare Martyn?”

They made their way down Martyn’s mining hole, carefully, and they tried not to giggle like a bunch of kids sneaking out in the middle of the night. Gria heard Martyn, talking to himself, and he approached him behind before shouting, “Hey Martyn!”

The three hang around together in the mining hole, chatting and bickering while hoping to find diamonds. Martyn succeeds and even gives them two diamonds each for a sword. The two were dumbfounded at this generosity, and Gria gave Martyn his golden apple in return.

Martyn: I just gave you guys diamonds because we’re buddies, c’mon. Gria: You know what, you can have my most prized golden apple. Martyn: Ooh, what’s this do? Gria: It gives you extra hearts when you eat it. Martyn: You’re giving me hearts? Way to make Big B a third wheel. Big B: Oh my god.

Gria exploded into laughter at this, and Big B shook his head but smiled at the situation.

After the sun had risen, he parted ways with the two and spent his time around the village and looking for a place to stay. He came across another nametag below the ground, and he thought it might’ve been Jimmy. He went down and surprised the man, only to find that it wasn’t Jimmy. 

When he heard Tango speak a while ago, he couldn’t figure out how it was possible. However, he did know of a game around an AI girlfriend who wouldn’t let you leave the house unless you said the right words. To think █████ could add such a feature, for AI to understand and speak back to you, all in a year is quite impressive and he would like to ask him more as soon as they finish playing. He didn’t listen carefully when Tango spoke earlier, and it might’ve been more robotic than he remembered. But now, as Ren screamed in surprise and spoke how Gria spooked the hell out of him, it sounded too much like a real person’s voice.

After mining a bit, Gria went out to the world and built a base at a lovely ravine area. Unfortunately, his resources weren’t enough to make it look pretty, and he suddenly missed the creative freedom he had while playing Hermitopia.

After being alone for so long. He made his way back to the village. Much to his surprise, so many people were there. At the side of the village, a group of characters in iron gear approached him. They excitedly called out his nametag, Grian, to greet him. Just like Ren and Tango’s voices, they all sounded so real. Too real. 

Martyn, Big B, Jimmy, Skizz, and Joel were nowhere to be seen. He was surrounded by characters from a game he spent countless hours playing. They talk and bicker like they are real people, and they sound like real people would. Gria would never be able to think of better voices for them. 

Among the four of them, one stood out the most. He had disheveled hair and a huge scar on his face that went down his neck. Despite having a cape and scarf covering most of his torso, Gria can’t pry his eyes off his huge, exposed right tit.

Completely distracted, something suddenly fell into his hands. It took him a while to process that this man held his hands and gave him flint and steel. Gria looked up, meeting the man’s eyes, and he had this devilish grin that made Gria’s knees weak. He turned his head higher and looked at the man’s nametag, “Scar Goodtimes”

Scar put his arm around Gria and made him face the village, and one of the houses were burning.

Scar: It was Grian! It was him who did it! 

Gria couldn’t move. He couldn’t process what was happening, and he couldn’t care less about how Tango and Etho were trying their best to put out the fire. The man beside him, probably more than 6 feet tall, is Scar Goodtimes. He’s way different from what he remembered, he had shorter hair and markings instead of actual scars, but when he spoke, Gria might’ve melted into the ground if the man didn’t have his arm around him.

Scar: Geez, Grian, what a rapscallion burning down villages.

Scar grinned at him and gave him a wink. It was as if Gria’s hardware crashed. Cleo, BDubs, and Impulse were all talking to him, even playing their jukebox for him, but his mind was filled with one thing and one thing only.

“His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so hot. His voice is so—”

Something nudged Gria, and Scar was so close to his face that Gria thought he could be hallucinating. Scar whispered into his ear, asking for the flint and steel back, and he complied without a second thought. He gave him a grin before he ran off to the village. Etho and Tango followed suit in panic.

Gria finally breathed. He doesn’t know how this could be possible. He had organized an unofficial voice cast for Hermitopia before, but the chosen voice actor was so off the mark, and everyone else liked it but Gria. But now, Scar’s whisper loops in his head, and he would go to war just to argue that no actor can replicate the sound his ears had been blessed with.

While talking to Etho and Impulse, he saw the historical tree burn. Scar walked in stride and stood beside Gria, waiting for Etho to take notice. Gria and Scar share a mischievous smile as Etho runs to the burning tree. Scar watched the tree burn down, and Gria watched the fire illuminate his face.

Scar: Grian, want to take over the desert with me? Gria: Me? Scar: Yeah, you. Let’s make all the sand ours.

This marks the End of Prologue

Next > ACT ONE: STUCK IN THE DESERT

ENDING NOTES: Took a while to finish this one! supposedly there's more, but it was getting too long so I had to cut it here. The next update will be a bigger one, so it might take months before that is posted. I also plan to do more character design before moving forward with the actual life series events. If you've read this far, thank you for reading!

[sooniebby]

an idea; a (bottom) male reader who’s apart of an indie jpop boy group. The members are just you, a childhood friend, and three other people you met through college/random events. Your group was lucky one of the members comes from a rich family that doesn’t mind spending some money to help you guys out—waiting until a company finds interest and asks to manage you.

The first month or so is rough so you all find part time jobs in the mean time. But regular jobs just don’t interest you so it takes you awhile to even apply for any… mostly getting fired after the first week or so because you end up showing late all the time.

You’re left wondering what to do when you come across a website of camboys and camgirls. Some of them show full nudity while others stay dressed for the most part.

It intrigues you enough but you don’t do it without running it through your members. They’re mostly shocked you even want to do that… but other than that, they just tell you to not speak and wear a mask.

Easy peasy. You chose a simple and almost silly name, “Shy Usagi” since your mask resembled a rabbit.

The first stream is awkward, you had to figure out a way to talk. Surprisingly, a few of the people that dropped in were intrigued by your refusal to talk. You had expected them to immediately want you naked but it seemed you attracted people that liked the teasing aspect of camboys.

Though you were 99% sure it was only men watching you. The first few weeks, you only wore skimpy clothing and did anything they requested. The most sexual thing you did was suck a dildo.

Occasionally you’d masturbate on live and that would always garner more attention. But there was always one person who would tip you no matter the stream.

“Hitachikoi”

You were sure he was probably an old man but you didn’t care, money was money. He knew how to flirt so you never felt weirded out with his attention.

Things were going reasonably well until after your group’s performance at a little festival. You had spilt away for a second to look around when you bumped into someone. He had his face covered with a mask and baseball cap.

You were going to apologize and go about your way when you caught that he was holding a poster of your group. He didn’t say anything as he simply held up a marker.

It took a second before you finally realized what he wanted. “Oh! Sure.” You were a bit excited, having never really signed anything before. Your signature was a bit messy but still legible.

“Here you go, thanks for coming to see us!”

“I only came to see you.”

“Hm?” You leaned in closer, wondering if you had heard him right. Only you?

The man let out a laugh as he reached up and pulled down his mask, leaning down so you could get a clear look at his face. “Mhm. Only you… (Name)… or ah,”

His hand reached up and cupped your face, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. It was only when he pulled off his cap that you got a good look at his face.

He… he wasn’t some random guy. He was a famous actor… a famous actor knew about you?

“Shy Usagi? It’s nice to see your entire face… that mask never hid your lips.”

You could stare as he pushed his thumb into your mouth. The only thing you were thinking of was if he was about to ruin your career before it even took off? But why would he care? Why was he even—

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. Someone like you isn’t made to think so hard,” he said, a slight frown on his lips. “I just, well I got tired of watching behind a screen. I wanted to touch you…”

His other hand moved to rest on your hip, pulling you closer as he pressed his lips against your ear.

“To be inside of you instead of that dildo… I mean, I’m paying you so much money, it’s only fair I get to have you, right? Mhm? I can have you, yea? I’ve thought of fucking your mouth for days now.”

“(Name)! Where are you?”

He pulled away, rolling his eyes. You only watched as he slipped back on his mask and cap, pulling your shirt back down. “You’ll stream tonight.” He said, as if he was giving you an order, not asking.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby. Wear something red tonight… that’s my favorite color.”

With that he left you standing there, mouth agape just as one of your members walked over to you.

You… were so fucking screwed.

In more ways than one.

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @secretivemessenger @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @tehyunnie @remdayz @cherry-blossoms-187 @tomoeroi @mello-life25 @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @smellwell @iwishtobeacrow @euthymiko @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @love-kha1 @anchoredphoenix @yuzuukix @bensontrechic

I already made a face claim lol.



[kwoniele]

his (favorite) cheerleader

synopsis: cheerleading practice seems to affect seungcheol a lot more than you expected.

genre: smut

pairing: seungcheol x cheerleader!reader

wc: 737

warnings: rough sex! clearly i have a kink.. creampie, unprotected sex (please do NOT do this! use protection always) overprotective cheol, praise, scratching 😝, BABE THIS ISNT PROOFREAD ☺️ none of my works are tbh. i think thats all? please lmk if there are more!

authors note: hiii im baackkk!! this was supposed to be a celebratory fic for from behind but unfortunately i got quite occupied with my assignments (ack?) and didn’t get to ginish but u can read this as a standalone haha also my requests are open! please request SOMETHING im in need of ideas.. ok bye enjoy

nervous.

thats how you made seungcheol feel.

honestly, he would have never felt this way if he had stopped you from wearing the skimpy skirt for cheerleading practice. you asked him permission before choosing to wear it for the day because one: you would hate to make him feel like you’re dressing like a slut for everyone to see and two: the girls in your crew are bringing their boyfriends.

you would never admit it, but the girls in your squad have terrible taste for men. all of them are either desperate for a quick fuck with anyone but their girlfriends, or theyre in denial and swear to like women but seem to enjoy having drinks with your boyfriend instead.

but seungcheol didn’t hold you back. he swore it was okay and that you looked amazing in the skirt. he explained that he was going to be right beside you the entire time and that things were going to be alright. because he was there.

he was concerned that the boys would be very much eyeing you for a minute too long, or your name would be the name they’d be chanting for the entire game rather than their girlfriend’s.

he was wrong.

he was the person he was worried about.

the way the skirt almost barely covered your ass, the way your hair stuck to your forehead sticky with sweat, how your chest heaved whenever you finished a routine; he felt like he was going absolutely insane.

regardless of the fact he promised you he’d behave, he wasn’t doing a good job of fulfilling it. he could feel his cock slowly growing in his pants and he was not trying to hide it.

“seungcheol-ah, if you’re in need of relief, we’d really appreciate it if you could do it somewhere else and not on the freshly cleaned bleachers.” irene’s boyfriend lightly elbowed seungcheol,

cheol shot him a glare before his eyes slowly rested on you again. you were hot. if male ovulation was a thing, cheol was the epitome of it. all he heard was ringing and inaudible chatter as his attention was focused on you. his eyes were in the shape of hearts as he watched you perform.

he couldn't wait to go home. he just knew what he’d do to you as soon as you step foot into your house.

—

“haa~ cheol!” if he had asked you to count how many times you’ve come tonight, you wouldn’t be able to answer him. your cum had made a creamy white ring around his cock, slowly growing thicker and thicker as his thrusts began to pick up rhythm faster than the one before.

your voice began to strain, sweat started to trickle down the back of your neck, your hips were burning red as seungcheol showed no mercy at all. it was as if his dick had a mind of its own. his tip kisses your g-spot, making you arch from the bed as cheol’s hand pushed you down.

“you were so fucking pretty out there. did you know that? i was worried the boys would be a fucking idiot around you— fuck.” he threw his head back in a moan. “but it turns out, i was the one going insane.”

his lips traveled to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses beside the bruises he had made earlier. his thumb rubbed your clit, causing you to whine controllably as your gripped onto his shoulders. “pleaaase, let me cum!”

“yeah? my baby wants to cum?” seungcheol rapidly thrusted into you—if that was even possible—even more, making you slip out incoherent words as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“yes! yes! yes! please let me cum please!” your nails clawed his back, leaving dark red marks as he winces in pain.

“fuck, cum with me okay?” you nodded in agreement, not caring about the neighbours who were probably wide awake, or the open windows that seungcheol didn’t bother to shut, or your cheerleading outfit that you definitely needed the following day.

“you can cum, beautiful.” he painted your walls with white ribbons as you breathed heavily—cumming right after him. you came so hard that you saw stars. as soon as you finally caught your breath, seungcheol was already rubbing you with a warm cloth, cleaning up his mess.

“you’re so responsible, you know?”

“mhm, i am. just not when you’re at cheerleading practice.” you giggle.

“you should come more often.”

[canyonmooncreations]

“Hope you’re doing okay, you look happy”

Your eyes begin to burn and tears form as you read the text from him. The guy you’re been in love with your whole life. The one you’ve never quite had but always wanted. The one who is there as soon as he is gone. Never consistent, but always present in your mind.

He always texts you at the wrong time. Or maybe the perfect time. Who fucking knows. This time he’s texting you as you wait for your now ex boyfriend to come get his shit from your apartment.

“Then you don’t fucking know me at all Simon”

Not the reply he was expecting. How could he be wrong? You’re smiling in all the pictures you post and doing all sorts of activities.

But then he looks closer.

He sees that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Poorly hidden bruises scattered here and there, new ones and faded ones in every photo.

He was wrong. You’re anything but happy.

“Let me come over love. Still at the same place?”

“Not a good time.”

“Why?”

“He’s coming to get his things today.”

Simon doesn’t reply and you don’t notice.

You’re startled as you hear a car door shut, expecting your ex to come barging in. Instead when you look out the door you see Simon dressed in all black and wearing a scowl. Before you can open the door, he’s letting himself in.

“He put his hands on you?” It almost felt accusatory, but you didn’t miss the glint of hurt in his eyes.

Totally not inspired by true events… totally not self indulgent.

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

pick up truck driver jason todd

──────────•~❉✿❉~•──────────

mentions of age difference

pick up truck driver jason todd

who would stare at your bare legs when you placed them up on the dashboard, he made sure your closet only consisted of the tiniest dresses and shorts so he had a view to look at when the road got boring. his large hand would lazily grip onto your thigh as he drove on the highway, gently caressing your smooth skin as you slept.

pick up truck driver jason todd

who almost came in a few seconds when you first had sex, the man was touch starved to say the least. years on the road and barely enough one night stands to keep him going. so when your gummy walls clenched around him he felt like a teenager again. the sight was so lewd, a young girl in her twenties bouncing on him who was a good decade older.

pick up truck driver jason todd

who would go and have his fingers stuffed inside your tight cunt when driving as a way to toy with you and pass time. he didn’t even have to ask, you were so obedient and desperate that he would just put his hands in between his thighs. you would wear no panties obviously because why would you?

pick up driver truck jason todd

who would ask for head whilst driving, you shoving his dick so far down your throat making him grip onto the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. sometimes if it was too much, he would have to pull to the side of the road and just let you suck him off.

pick up driver truck jason todd

who would put all different kinds of snacks and drinks in his truck just for you. whenever the two of you made a pitstop, he made sure to grab granola bars, chocolate, chips and maybe a pre-made fruit salad to keep you full on the road, he can’t have his passenger princess going hungry on him. jason never liked eating in his truck, was never the cleanest man but his whole career was based on his truck, but seeing you happily munch away on your snacks made the mess worth it.

pick up truck driver jason todd

who would have his fingers stuffed inside your cunt whilst driving, one hand on the steering wheel another abusing your cunt. you always had your legs spread for free use whenever he wanted. “look at that mess, you’re gonna ruin the seat sweetheart” jason groaned as your squirt covered the seat, making a mess that was enough to make him come on the spot.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

Some charges my aunties and uncles carried well into the 90s without pardon or exonneration of any kind:

Substance possession, esp weed, ecstasy, cocaine/crack, meth, etc

Cross-dressing (aka wearing more than the allowed number of "opposite sex clothing items, including undergarments that were not visible)

Solicitacion/suspicion of prostitution (the latter is the charge a trans auntie got for carrying condoms on her to a partner's house, the former charge was both accurate and forced on partners across multiple people in my life)

Vagrancy (got outed during a cruising bust and was evicted/blacklisted from all affordable rentals)

Sexual assault/attempted murder (an HIV + trans adult getting trans panicked)

Public indecency (cruising)

Sexual misconduct in the presence of a minor (had sex in their home while a child was present in the household but not in the room)

This is a non-exhaustive list. Many people I loved who lived queerly through the 1950s-1990s had multiple charges in their past. Few had none.

The goal is to criminalize every path to existence we have, and there is a reason that approach is scary and effective.

It also is absolutely not the all powerful steamrolling force people (on borh sides of the conflict) pretend it is.

I grew up in a thriving community of dykes, faggots, queers, drag queens/kings, intersex folks, and trans people. There were enough of us, even in 1998, to fill a 300 person hall for an AIDS memorial during pesach one year, just in the valley. We lived, we loved, we raised children and families, and we waged a background war for our fucking lives.

It is happening again and for many that will be terrifying. I will not lie to you and tell you not to be afraid or that we will suffer no losses. That 300person hall also had near on 150 empty chairs for the dead that year. But I need people to understand that waging the war only feels scary and overwhelming A) in the beginning when you are not yet sure how to fight, and B) when you are alone, overwhelmed, and feeling helpless in the face of a pressing threat. The rest of the time, you will find that the process of learning effective solidarity and resistance is way faster than you think.

I called my mother on Valentine's day and we talked a bit about what it's like as two queer people across generations, to be back here where we were together in my early childhood, and how my mother feels seeing these conversation return after she got nearly a decade of peace and retirement from activism because she believed it was time to pass the torch. She reminded me of a story she used to tell me when I was little

Mom worked for IBM on some major contracts, and she would sometimes find herself out back with the other engineers for a smoke break. Once, a man started talking about the news updates on AIDS: it was spreading amongst not just IV drug users and queers, but amongst heterosexual middle class folks who had never used or swung or sold or anything. At first the conversation is empathetic to the sick, and mom lets her guard down.

"And then he says "but now it's infecting people who don't deserve it. They called it the Gay Plague back then, you know? And I don't know what happened, but the next thing I remember I'd thrown my cigarette in his face, backed him against a wall, and was snarling "NO ONE has EVER deserved this" and you know. He never said anything like that around me again. I don't know if he changed his mind, but from that moment on, he knew that we were in the room with him, and that was enough to get him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The reason they want us scared is because they want to be able to pretend we're never in the room with them. They want to be able to count on our silence, on our cowering and hiding in self preservation. And I don't blame anyone who gives that because we're surviving here, that's not my place to decide for you. But that was the day I learned that I will NEVER allow them to pretend I'm not in the room again."

Criminalization is a form of liminal expulsion of the undesireable from the shared social perception/narrative. If they can imprison us for our basic existence, they can remove us from the room or make it more likely we hide in the shadows. But this is what we mean when we say that they cannot kill us in any way that matters. Every loss, every death matters, but so does every life lived in silence and shadow. And I cannot emphasize enough how many more of the latter there have been in the world.

So if they want to kill us, we will fill their world with the utopia of the love we find in the dark. If they want to banish us we will live out loud until even they can't escape us. If they want to erase our history, I will personally scream it from every rooftop I have access to.

Liminality is a weapon against us, but it has also always been ours more than it is theirs. We make it, breathe it, and change it with our very being. Never forget that you are the culmination of generations of love, life, and survival. We have seen enough attempts at genocide in the world now to know that the meaning of our lives is not what they make it possible to do to us but what we create to stop them.

If they do start rounding queers up it won’t be with the gestapo, but the police, and the crime won’t be written down as being queer, but public indecency, the indecency being queer in public, but that’s the quiet part no one will say out loud.

[heechwe]

dress to undress | 𝐲𝐣𝐰

୨୧ pairing:yang jungwon x fem!reader || ୨୧ word count: 0.2k || ୨୧ genre: smut || ୨୧ tags: dom!jungwon, brat!reader, unprotected sex, back shots || ୨୧ synopsis: "If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I'm going to bend you over that bed." || ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Requested by anon!

↪ WANT A DRABBLE DIARY ENTRY? REQUEST ONE.ᐟ

You were tired of arguing about the shortness of your skirt and the low cut of your long-sleeve shirt. All of your friends would be wearing something similar, and you made copious mentions of that as your boyfriend continued to fight with you about it.

“If you leave the house wearing that,” Jungwon threatens and points to your shared bed in the corner of the room, “then the second you get back home, I’m going to bend you over that bed.”

You turn from the vanity to look behind you and directly at him, a daring spark in your eyes as you swipe the lipstick across your mouth. “Is that a threat or a promise, Wonnie?”

The nickname makes Jungwon press you flush against the vanity and bend you across the cherry wood furniture. “On second thought, I’ll just fuck you so hard you won’t have the strength to leave. How about that?”

It’s incredibly easy for Jungwon to rip your skirt and panties off of your lower half and ram himself inside of you. The makeup that rested on the top of the vanity scatters across the floor as he presses your chest down into the wood.

You have a smile on your face the entire time he thrusts hard and deep inside of you, his anger giving way to absolute pleasure on both of your ends.

His balls slap against your clit, and you can’t describe how good it feels when he dominates you like this, makes it known what he does and doesn’t like and the punishments that come when you act out.

Little did Jungwon know, you canceled with your friends hours ago, your intentions resting solely on this moment, this experience, together.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @yvnempire

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊: @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[ipushhimback]

my world

pairing: lando norris x reader warnings: none word count: 1.2 k

summary: lando with a woman and 2 kids in the paddock?

Lando has always been a private person. Of course, he occasionally posted a vlog, showed clips of his golfing, streamed, or just showed some racing related stuff.

What no one of the fans knew was, that after every single race there is his family waiting for him. They nearly found out when Lando streamed and their daughter decided that it was the perfect moment to throw a tantrum because she didn’t want to eat her dinner as it was ‘the wrong shape’.

But now that Livy was three and understood what her dad does for a living she really wanted to watch a race so Y/N and Lando had agreed to take her to the Monaco Grand Prix. It was near their home so if anything became to much for the kids, Y/N could just take them home and they would watch the rest of the race from their balcony.

So today you were dressed in a simple baggy jeans, that weren’t so baggy anymore when you compare them to Charles’, and a papaya colored shirt, though no one could see the ‘LN4’ printed on it because of the wraparound baby carrier in which the one month old Aiden was sleeping peacefully.

Livy was wearing a cute white dress with tiny orange flowers printed on it. She was holding Lando’s hand and happily walking through the paddock as if she had done it a million times before.

“I’ll just introduce you to Oscar real quick. Lily isn’t here today so if you want to go to another garage to talk to someone other than the mechanics you can just do that, ok?”, Lando asked as he looked at you with a wide smile that let you know he was happy for you to be here today.

“I know, Lan. You’ve told me that ten times already”, you said leaving forward and pressing a kiss on his lips.

“I know, baby, Just making sure”, your husband said, still smiling.

“Daddy? Why are there no cars?”, Livy said as she looked up at Lando, looking completely confused. Her dad picked her up.

“They are in the garages, baby girl. You will see them later, ok?”

Livia scrunched her nose in disappointment.

“Hm. Wanna see cars now.”

“I know. Oh! There is Oscar! Hey, Osc. How’re you doing?”, Lando asked casually.

You couldn’t help but see how confused the Australian looked.

“Uhm… good? Who… is that?”, Oscar asked while he tried to be polite but he looked absolutely puzzled.

“That is my family. Surprise, I guess. Y/N, my wife. Livy, my daughter. And the little one is Aiden, our baby boy. Sorry I didn’t tell you about them but I really didn’t want the kids to be in the media so much already.”

What Lando didn’t know was that the whole internet was already going wild.

#####

f1gossip Lando Norris seen at the paddock with a woman and kids. Does he have a new girlfriend?

username1 omg. lando is dating a single mom??

username2 pretty sure she is a gold digger…

username3 did she baby trap lando…?

username4 please tell me lando isn’t going to retire now bc he feels like he has to take care of those kids…

username5 pretty sure she only wants his money…

username6 guys do your research. she is Y/N L/N… ceo of some company and literally richer than lando…

#####

Livy in the meanwhile was mesmerized.

“Oscy has pretty hair”, she whispered into her dad’s ear though it was so loud that Oscar heard it and started laughing which made Livia all shy.

“Thank you, little one”, he said while he was still laughing which made Liv hide her face in Lando’s neck who just bounced her a little and laughed.

“She is a little shy. Sorry, mate”, he said to his teammate.

“All good. And this is Aiden? He is super cute”, Oscar said while looking at Aiden who was peacefully sleeping.

“Yes. That’s our little one. He was super mad today when I woke him up to get him dressed though so he is mostly sleeping now”, you said smiling at your little baby boy who sighed in his sleep.

Oscar smiled while looking at the newborn and you started wondering if he will ever also have a kid with Lily.

“Daddy. Wanna see the cars now. Please?”, Livia asked though she was immediately distracted when she saw Charles with his girlfriend Alex walking by. But these two weren’t the ones who got Liv’s attention. It was Leo who was running after the couple on a leash.

“DADDY! THERE IS A DOGGY!”, she explained and squirmed in her dad’s arms to make him put her down.

The second her feet touched the ground she started running over to Leo and plopped down on the ground next to the dachshund who immediately started licking her face.

“Livia Norris! You can’t just run off, did you hear me?”, Lando scolded his daughter. “There are many people and cars which can be dangerous. Mommy and I told you to always stay close to us.”

„Sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to but dog is cute, look!“, The toddler said while pointing at Leo. „What’s doggy‘s name?“, Liv asked Charles who was standing next to her.

„That’s Leo. He is cute, isn’t he?“, the Monegasque said to Liv while looking at his dog with a proud smile which made Livy nod enthusiastically.

Livia was now looking at Alex who was standing a bit behind Charles.

„You pretty“, she said looking at Alex‘ red dress and then looking back at Leo.

„Thank you sweetie! That’s very nice of you! But so do you. Such a pretty dress. Did you choose it yourself?“, Alex asked while crouching down to be on the same level as Liv.

„No. My mommy said I should wear it because it makes me look like a princess. But daddy said I wear it because the flowers are orange“, she answered shrugging nonchalantly.

Alex just nodded not knowing what to say now. But it didn’t really matter anyway as Liv already spotted Lewis and was immediately obsessed with his braids. She squealed and ran over to the ferrari driver.

„Your hair is so pretty! Did your mommy do that? My mommy always does my hair!“, the little girl said looking up at Lewis while Lando just groaned.

„She already loves half the grid more than me“, he said to you pretending to pout as he wraps an arm around your waist and walked over to Lewis and Livy while he pulled out his phone. „Oh wow the internet is calling you a gold digger now. Interesting“, he said rolling his eyes.

„Let them talk. They will find out who is paying for your golf trips soon enough“, you said chuckling.

But Lando really couldn’t just let them talk. You were his family and important to him.

lando My world (and just for the record she is not a gold digger)

username1 lando has been hiding a whole family for years???

username2 cant believe lando is dating her… he could do so much better

username3 the haters are always gonna hate…

username4 such a cute family they look so happy

username5 not liv loving half the grid more than lando…

a/n: y’all don’t know how long this took me even though it isn’t long or anything…

taglist: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 

[leonastarry]

{ 16 } Troublemaker ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x fem!reader

Jinwoo never thought he would encounter a day like today.

He had fought countless monsters, faced the strongest avengers, and even stood on the edge of life and death many times. But nothing had prepared him for the current situation:

A four-year-old child, chubby cheeks, messy hair, big, sparkling eyes… was sitting on the sofa in his house.

And that child was you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It all started from an unknown hell gate. While Jinwoo and you were fighting monsters, out of carelessness, an orc shot his magic at you and you were hit. Jinwoo immediately ordered Beru and Igris to go to you, while he went to kill them all.

He quickly turned around and asked Igris about your condition. Igris hesitated. Jinwoo's eyes darkened, but before he could say anything, a childish voice interrupted him.

At Igris' feet, a child poked his head out, wearing loose clothes, looking at him with curious eyes.

"Jinwoo?" You blinked, your childish voice rang out.

Jinwoo was stunned. He couldn't believe his eyes. "Wait… Don't tell me…"

You puffed up in frustration. "Don't laugh at me!"

Jinwoo swallowed back the laughter that was rising in his throat. Taking care of a baby was hard enough, but taking care of you—a super naughty baby version—was definitely worse.

"Dang…"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After bringing you home, Jinwoo discovered a terrifying truth.

You had too much energy.

Jinwoo quickly realized that babysitting was not easy. You were an extremely mischievous child, and although your memories seemed to be intact, your personality was exactly like that of a real child.

You ran around everywhere, climbing on chairs, rummaging through cabinets, and even trying to get into the refrigerator to find cakes. Jinwoo thought about summoning Beru to help, but then he realized that would only make things… more chaotic.

Jinwoo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Can you sit still for a bit?"

You pouted, placing your hands on your hips. "No! I want to play!"

Jinwoo felt a not-so-light headache.

"Jinwoo oppa! I'm hungry!" You exclaimed, holding your stomach.

He sighed, rummaging through the fridge for something easy for kids to eat. Finally, Jinwoo placed a small cake on the table.

"Here, eat slowly."

But you didn't seem to want to eat slowly. You took a big bite, your eyes shining. "So delicious!"

Jinwoo watched you eat, smiling slightly. In this brief moment, he felt that you were really… cute. But just as he was about to enjoy this quiet—

"Done! I want to play more!"

Jinwoo rubbed his temples.

"Haiz…"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

While Jinwoo was racking his brain trying to figure out how to get you to take a nap, you came up with a new idea.

You looked around the room, your mischievous gaze falling on Jinwoo's three loyal bodyguards: Beru, Igris, and Bellion.

A mischievous smile appeared on your lips.

_____________

Fifteen minutes later.

_____________

"M-My Liege…" Beru’s voice trembled as he looked down at the pale pink princess dress he had just been forced to wear.

Beside him, Igris kept his cool expression, but he couldn’t hide his embarrassment as he wore a pink headband with a giant bow on his head.

The most pitiful one was Bellion—Jinwoo’s most dignified general—wearing a sparkling tutu, holding a small doll in his hand.

Jinwoo almost dropped his teacup when he saw the scene before him.

You—in the form of a four-year-old child—were sitting in the middle of the living room, calling yourself ‘Princess’, and forcing Jinwoo’s three strongest guards to attend the ‘Princess Tea Party’.

"Sit down! The Princess commands!"

Beru, Igris, and Bellion looked at each other helplessly, then reluctantly sat down on the tiny chairs you had arranged.

Jinwoo felt his soul leave his body.

He had seen Beru crush his enemies in battle, Igris confront the strongest enemies, and Bellion lead a mighty army.

But today… they were sitting holding plastic cups of tea, wearing princess dresses, and pretending to drink tea with a four-year-old child.

This scene, he would definitely never forget.

"Jinwoo oppa! You have to join too!" You suddenly called out to him.

Jinwoo immediately shook his head. "No way."

But then you looked at him with sparkling eyes, pouting your lips, and mumbled, "Don't you love me?"

Jinwoo's heart stopped.

He sighed, then reluctantly sat down next to you.

Immediately, you placed a plastic crown on Jinwoo's head, then clapped your hands happily. "You're the Prince now! You have to pour tea for the Princess!"

Jinwoo looked at the pink plastic cup of tea in front of him, then looked at his three pitiful bodyguards.

He never thought he would fall into this situation.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After almost an hour of pretending to drink tea and talking about 'noble' things like 'who's the most beautiful princess' (you forced everyone to choose you), Jinwoo finally managed to coax you into taking a nap.

Beru, Igris, and Bellion immediately took off their decorations, each with a different expression:

Beru: "I…I feel like my honor has been severely damaged, My Liege!"

Igris: "…I've never been through such a difficult battle before."

Bellion: "…Please forget about this."

Jinwoo laughed.

He looked at you—who was curled up in the blanket, sleeping soundly with an innocent face—and gently patted your head.

Even though today was a bit chaotic, seeing you so happy, he felt…it wasn't so bad.

Anyway, maybe one day, you'll come back as an adult, and he'll tell this story to tease you for the rest of your life.

Jinwoo smiled.

Today was truly a memorable day.

Maybe I wouldn't be able to write in 2 months

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

@sleep-needer

Gladly, although are you sure? Cause it’s pretty dark.

TW: SA, incest (obviously)

To put it briefly, lonnie byers should die an agony-filled death and will (and jonathan) should spit on his grave.

There’s a lot going on with Lonnie, I’m just gonna leave you posts here to check out because they explain it better that I ever could.

X / X

@greenfiend has a lot about it on his acc.

Will is also pretty paralleled to Laura Palmer, from Twin Peaks. Laura who was SA by her dad.

And even without mentioning Lonnie there’s also everything going on with Will and SA (like the zombie boy nickname) and everything going on with AIDS (which is commonly “caught” by having sexual relationships). In fact, all of s2 can be seen as a SA metaphor (or a metaphor for what happens after SA)

There’s also casual mentions of incest through the show, like robin and steve watching back to future in s3, where “that mom was trying to bang her son” (quoting Robin). Talking about that, there’s also the theory of Will (with powers) flaying Hopper in s3 (so some scenes where Joyce was talking with him (while having a crush on him) she was actually talking with her son. Uh, yeah). Listen, I’m not super sold on this one, but I do have seen some damning evidence, and I just feel the need to share (you’ll draw your own conclusions).

BUT that’s not all!! We also have to take into account whatever it is that’s going on with Mike and El.

“Mike and El?”, you ask, “what do you mean?“

Oh boy.

Letting aside the “they’re related” theories (theories surrounding the wheelers being creels and henry being el’s “mom” (look into mothergate if you dare), which would make them cousins (“She’s my cousin. Second cousin.”) or smth), there’s also so many things going on with them and family. El is paralleled (and contrasted) to Nancy, Mike’s sister, Mike is paralleled to hopper (el’s dad), Brenner (“papa”), AND Jonathan (talking with Will) (a brother), there’s constant references to them being family like mike pretending she’s his cousin, or before their first kiss.

Before their first kiss Mike talks about El living on his house, his mom cooking her food, and how his parents “will be like your new parents, and Nancy, she’ll be like your new sister”. Oh okay. So she’ll become a member of the family then? Alright… To this, el (reasonably) asks “will you be like my brother?”

Mike also kisses her while she’s wearing Nancy’s old dress, and the first thing he says after the kiss is “Nancy” (because he notices the car lights outside, meaning she arrived). Yeah I’m not, I’m not gonna add anything else.

“Oh but the duffers wouldn’t go there”, except they totally would. They love to make things not be as they seem and reverting tropes, plus Mike loves Star Wars. The duffers love references to other media, specially classics (like lotr, the never ending story, wizard of oz, Alice in wonderland, etc). Star Wars is a classic of sci-fi and fantasy, super popular with 80s nerds. C’mon, you think they aren’t going to reference it? In Star Wars, Luke and leia kiss, on the lips, before they realize they’re biological twins (separated at birth). Then luke ends up single and independent and leia ends up with Han Solo. Huh.

Want to look more into it, search lukeandleiagate on my blog. For example, x / x / x / x

(That’s not even getting into everything surrounding Henry, which is another rabbit hole that tbh I don’t know much about)

Yeah and uh, leaving this here for you to rewatch, after having learnt all that.

i bring a real "this piece of media has incest subtext that you're ignoring" vibe to the function that nobody really likes

[rcvcgers]

Rotten Apples, pt. 3

masterlist , part one , part two

pairing: caleb x non!mc reader

synopsis: you go out with caleb but things turn south.

word count: 8.1k words

warnings: extreme loathing, kinda funny, sad at the end, a good mix of everything! a hint of foreplay! mentions of death! not proofread!

author's note: hi all! this is a bit on the longer side so i apologize! part four is most definitely in the works, though! i hope you enjoy the chapter! i hope i got everyone who asked to be tagged! please yell at me if i forgot you!

taglist <3 : @kebarney , @pinkismyfavcolor , @romils , @erisnxxi , @rik0shii , @reni502 , @spacehopper27 , @llamabois , @likesvader , @pandoras-rabbit , @princessfruit , @lukassafespace , @jexizia , @etsuniiru , @tinnyrabbit , @orianakira , @xiaorixx , @beomluvrr , @sanzy4 , @vickykazuya , @blcknebula , @sleepydang , @flamedancer13 , @gojosbedwarmer , @silmeria-lafleur , @ikiru-wa , @animecrazy76 , @fealy , @jexizia

Seven o’clock is approaching fast and you have yet to find anything to wear. Your closet has been emptied, clothes scattered across the vinyl flooring of your apartment. Dresses, pants, and blouses fill in the blank spaces of the floor. You tip toe around the messily laid out outfits, sending pictures to your closest friend for her opinion,

It doesn’t really surprise you when she video calls you, laughing at how seriously you’re taking this dinner.

“Are you trying to impress him?” Your friend snorts. You prop your phone against a book on the counter. “I thought you didn’t like him?”

“I don’t,” your response is immediate and snappy, “I would like to have a nice dinner, though.”

“How do you know you’re actually going out to dinner? What if he’s there to kill you, you know, like some serial killer type shit.”

“He is our beloved Colonel, after all. I can’t pass up the opportunity he’s handing to me.”

“An opportunity to what? Find another military sugar daddy that wants you on his arm? Bitch, please,” Your friend rolls her eyes and shakes her head when you hold a red dress to your body. “I don’t think you should go. My expertise tells me that this is a bad idea.”

“Your expertise?” You throw your head back and laugh. “Your expertise from what? All of the true crime documentaries you’ve watched?”

“Yes, actually,” she proudly states, a ‘fuck you’ smile spreading across her face.

“I’m going,” a fake smile spreads across your face when you glance at yourself in the mirror. “It’s a free meal. I’m not going to pass it up!”

“You’re making a major mistake! You should go in sweatpants. Put in no effort whatsoever. He’s the guy you’ve been trying to forget, right?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, glancing at her face on the phone screen, “he’s kind of hard to forget, though. He’s—”

“A dreamboat? Got you a single butterfly toy when you were kids? Has the prettiest eyes? This is going to end up horribly and you know it. I’m not going to stop you…just don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart.” Your friend hangs up after that.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, eyes focused on the dress that you hold up in front of yourself. It slips out of your sight and your eyes drop down to the baggy sweatpants you have on.

They haven’t been washed in a couple days and there’s a stain from the takeout you ordered the other day when your favorite show had its season premiere.

Sweatpants, you roll your eyes with a chuckle, he’d hate that.

A slow smile spreads across your face. Maybe you will be in sweatpants and the shirt you sleep in when he shows up. You never agreed to the dinner, after all. What could Caleb possibly be expecting from you?

It’s not like this dinner is going to solve all of your problems. It’s not going to wash away the sins he’s committed against you nor will it bring you much solace even if things go well.

A black dress catches your attention from the corner of your eye. The hanger finds itself between your fingers. you slowly lift it into the air, silently examining it, before holding the dress against your body. Your steps are slow and meticulous. They’re almost hesitant to see what it looks like on you.

Your hands trail across the soft fabric of the dress. It has a box neckline, cutting low on your chest, with long sleeves, and a skirt that stops just halfway down your thigh. You squint at the dress, familiarity tingling in the back of your mind.

It couldn’t be…no…right?

The dress falls to the floor. It pools at your feet, your body shuddering. You grasp the spot over your heart, feeling the beats speed up. A faint ringing buzzes in your ears. You didn’t expect to see the black garment in your closet.

Did your mother pack it without you knowing? She was horrendously overbearing while you packed your room up. The move from Linkon to Skyhaven was brutal on her. She had almost convinced your father to follow you so she can have the peace of mind knowing that you know somebody there. Thankfully, he talked her down, but it didn’t make her maternal instincts go away.

Out of all the things she helped pack for you: did she have to pack that dress?

Grumbling obscenities under your breath, you cleaned your apartment, wasting time.

You simply weren’t going to go. Your friend was right, all this is going to do is bring back bad memories and ruin your night. With the floors now cleared and free from your disastrous attempt at fashion, you flop onto the couch, kicking your feet up onto the coffee table. The television switches on, the laughs from Skyhaven’s news anchors filling the silence of your apartment. You roll your eyes and click to the next channel. A reality show pops up with older white woman screaming at each other.

It’s trash but it works.

You grab your phone and the screen lights up. Just as fate has it, a notification pings, the banner floating at the top of the screen. You don’t recognize the number and shrug it off, swiping it away. You move to a familiar app and begin to play the game.

It only feels like a few minutes, when in actuality it’s been an hour, when there’s a knock at the door. The sound floats in the air before it comes again, much more demanding this time. You turn around, looking over the edge of the couch you have sunken into, and raise an eyebrow.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air. The knocks don’t continue nor can you hear anyone, like your landlord, calling your name. There are no alarms and no sound of chaos from the hallway.

Huh. Weird.

 You turn back to your game, groaning when your tiny character falls off the platform and into the lasers below. You chuck your phone into the other side of the couch, head rolling back and over the arm rest. You stare at the door, laughing to yourself.

That would be so fucking crazy if that were Caleb at the door. How would he even know where to find you? You definitely didn’t tell him where you live nor did you confirm this dinner he invited you on.

Life is weird though. Dead men come back to life and they suddenly pay attention to you. What’s even crazier is that the dead man wants to see you tonight.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Your body jumps from the couch, the sudden sound scaring you back to life. You land on your feet, sharp pain shooting through your ankles. You gasp and collapse back onto the couch, loudly whining.

You hear your name through the door followed by continuous knocking. Quickly making your way to the door, you swing up open and quickly dodge a balled fist that misses the door.

“Woah!” Caleb’s voice causes you to groan. “I almost got you there! Sorry about that!”

Your eyes narrow at him and that damn charming smile of his. You lean against the doorframe, pulling the door to your side to block the view of your messy apartment. Caleb’s a head taller than you, though, so your efforts are in vain as he cranes his chin up, looking inside.

“How did you find my apartment? How the fuck do you know where I live?” You ask, completely baffled by his presence.

“I may or may not have abused my power when you didn’t answer my texts,” he says it so casually that even you think that what he did was okay. You blink for a couple seconds, comprehending what he just said, when your eyes get caught on his outfit.

He wears black dress pants matched with a white dress shirt. He sports a black jacket over his arms and shoulders with no tie hanging around his neck. unconsciously, your eyes drift to the collar of his shirt. You expect to see a certain silver necklace around his neck, one that you’ve seen in countless social media photos.

It isn’t around his neck.

Hope strikes your heart, causing it to skip a beat. Your cheeks heat up.

You hate how easy it is for you to like him again. Is the bar that low that him opting not to wear a necklace has you wanting to go to dinner with him?

Fortify your mental walls, dammit! Do not give in to the temptation that is Caleb!

“I love the sweatpants look. Very classy. But you should probably change, our reservation is in thirty minutes,” his purple eyes scan the small sliver of your apartment.

It’s actually a lot different than from what he initially imagined. The couch is in the middle of the room with the television pushed up against the wall. Behind the couch is a small table with two chairs. He assumes that the kitchen is to the right of it because your bedroom is to the left. The walls are somewhat bare. Only a few pictures and decor hang from them.

At least your place feels alive and lived in compared to his.

You raise an eyebrow. He mimics you with a chuckle. You purse your lips and Caleb has to mentally tell himself to not close the distance and kiss you.

“A reservation?” He nods in response to your question. “I can’t. My heater broke I’m…waiting for maintenance to come by and fix it.”

“I can fix it,” his reply is immediate.

“No, it’s fine, really—”

“It’ll take me five minutes! You can get dressed while I fix it,” he speaks over you so casually as if this were everyday banter between you two.

It’s like that with his pipsqueak, but never you.

Caleb pushes some of his weight onto the door but you push back. He stops and looks down at down, brows furrowed.

Why won’t you let me help you? He thinks to himself.

Caleb rests a hand on the door, palm flat and fingers stretched out. He leans down and inspects your face.

You wear a large frown which is matched with a deadly glare, one that he isn’t particularly fond of since your years together in high school. Your eyes keep moving away from his, looking everywhere but at him, and he frowns.

“You’re lying to me,” Caleb states. His posture straightens, arms crossed over his chest. You match his posture, throwing him a dirty look.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes you are,” he leans down to your eye level. You get a closer look at his eyes, noticing that the gold you saw before is actually more of a bronze. Perhaps he’s never been a golden boy this whole time. Your hardened expression falters. “Go get changed. I’ll wait inside for you.”

Caleb takes a step towards you, the door creaking open. Your hand smacks against his chest, right on top of his heart. His heart thumps inside his chest. Your fingers involuntary curl into his chest, pushing him back. Your eyes remain trained on the top button of his shirt.

“No,” you say, finally looking up into his big eyes. “Stay…right here.” You swipe your foot in a line in front of your apartment door. He watches then looks back up at you. “Don’t cross this line. I’ll be right back.”

You slam the door in his face and quickly lock it. Caleb stands out in the hallway. He blinks at the door, unsure of what just happened, and turns around to face the hallway.

Progress. That’s what this is. It’s progress. Progress towards you two reigniting the spark of friendship. The Colonel hopes it turns into something more. He needs it to be more than slammed doors and tense moments in interrogation rooms and apartment hallways.

Caleb watches as people pass by in the hallway. He can’t hear you inside, most likely deep inside your bedroom getting changed.

Getting ready for him.

The thought of you getting all dolled up for him gets Caleb excited. His smile grows with every passing second. A few men walk by and Caleb makes for sure to glare at them, arms crossed, chest puffed out, asserting dominance over them.

He sighed when the last one disappeared into the elevator. The faint click of the door’s lock catches his attention and he takes a single step back, watching as you slowly open the door.

His heart pounds in his chest, ears and cheeks growing warm from the sight of you.

You look absolutely stunning in the black dress you wear. He likes how the sleeves cover your arms yet it leaves your upper chest exposed. It’s like you’re teasing him, luring him in for more. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face. Your face isn’t beaten, instead opting for a more natural and casual look, and you shrug your long purse strap over your shoulder. You’re much taller, too, and his eyes fall onto a simple pair of heels. Looking back up, Caleb smiles.

You are the image of perfection.

His eyes barely skim over the top of your head now. Maybe his neck won’t hurt as much looking down at you.

“You look…amazing.” Caleb can barely get his compliment out, fumbling over his words and growing feelings towards you. His heart swells at your small smile and nod. You turn, keys jingling in your hand. You take a second to breathe. The warmth in your cheeks irritates you.

You hate how your body constantly betrays you when he’s around. It’s a curse, not a blessing.

“Ready?” His voice quips once you turn around from locking your apartment door. You hesitantly nod, forcing a smile onto your face, but it falls once he extends his hand to you.

You stare at his fingers, which have a few scars wrapped around his skin, before looking back up at him. Caleb’s smile is so hopeful. The corners of his eyes slightly crinkle. You sigh, stepping around him, his fingers brushing against your arm.

Caleb watches as you walk down the hallway, your jacket draped over your arm, purse bouncing against your side. He releases a disappointed sigh, fingers curling back into his palm. He forces his feet to chase after you, watching as you press the elevator button.

The Colonel attaches himself to your side, making sure to keep a respectable yet close distance. It’s silent. The faint dings from the elevator grow louder. The doors slide open and you step inside, Caleb following suit.

The metal box slowly lowers. Caleb’s eyes remain on you, utterly captivated by the sight. You look forward, opting for the buffed metal door.

Caleb would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the door.

“Where are you taking us?” You break the awkward silence of the elevator. You glance at him and your eyes meet. You slowly bat your eyelashes at him, sighing.

Please prove me wrong, you internally plead, inner voice desperate, please prove that you aren’t the same boy I knew in high school.

Before he can respond, the elevator slide open. An obnoxiously large group stands on the other side. They wear bright pink cowboy hats and sashes, their eyes half-lidded.

Oh shit. It’s a bachelorette party. That’ll be fun to listen to tonight.

They wave hi, which you and Caleb return. As they slowly pile into the elevator, their voices grow loud, causing your ears to ring.

Caleb slides in front of you, gently pushing you against the back wall. His forearm rests against your head, the man trapping you in your spot. You look around him.

The elevator is completely packed. The inhabitants push together, morphing into one big blob. Your eyes dart to Caleb’s torso, noticing that there’s a few inches of space between you.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You look up, his face hovering in front of yours.

Your lips barely graze over each other. He’s slightly hunched over, face slightly grimacing from the bachelorette party bumping into him, stepping on his feet.

You hold back a laugh, covering your mouth. Caleb turns his attention back to you, a half-amused grin tugging the corner of his lips up.

“You’re laughing? At a time like this?” Caleb whispers into your ear, leaning in. The strands of his hair tickle your forehead. He leans in closer, lips grazing against your ear. “C’mon now…cut me some slack. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

His breath is hot on your ear. Shivers run down your spine, the tingles making themselves at home in your stomach. Frozen in place, your eyes move to his shoulder.

A small speck catches your eye. Inside the small elevator, you push your arm against the pressure from the other people. Caleb’s gaze follows your hand. You breathe in sync with him, both watching as you pluck a single eyelash from his cheek, right below his eye.

Your fingertips graze against his skin, leaving electric shocks in their wake, and scoop the small eyelash from his skin. You inspect the eyelash with close eyes. Your gaze flits to his, his purple eyes staring not at your eyes but your lips.

“Make a wish,” your whisper fills the tension between your bodies. His bottom lip quivers. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, feeling them heat up.

Caleb tilts his head down. He slowly slows at the eyelash on your finger, the hair disappearing, your eyes meeting once again.

My wish is you.

His breath is cool against your skin. It brings you no relief. Instead, your body inches closer to him, burning under his gaze of desire.

The two of you don’t even realize that the elevator is now empty. There is no bachelorette party cornering you. There is no reason for you two to be so close.

You hate to admit it but you don’t want to move. Caleb doesn’t either. He can’t get enough of your perfume, the way your touch was so light and careful against his face, almost as if you were scared to get even closer to him.

Do you feel it?

Do you feel the center of gravity that is pulling us together?

You clear your throat and dip under his arm. The further you get from him, the easier it is to breathe. You don’t even look at him from over your shoulder, scurrying out of the small enclosure.

Caleb hangs behind. His fingers curl against the elevator wall, eyes closed. He grimaces, harshly biting down on his lower lip. Your perfume lingers in the air. The warmth of your affection tickling his skin. He lets out a haggard breath, his back slowly straightening. He fixes his jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt, and exits the elevator, finding you outside.

You stand alone and off to the side, just hidden enough for people not to notice you but visible enough for Caleb to immediately find you. Just as the purse strap slips off your shoulder, Caleb collects it in his hand. He slips the jacket from your arms as well and eases your hand through the first sleeve, helping aim your next arm through the second.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, your breath visible in the cold night air. He nods, clearing his throat. “I think you were interrupted before.”

“Was I?” Caleb’s eyes flutter, looking down at you. You chuckle and raise an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah, I was, wasn’t I?” You nod. “A colleague recommended the restaurant to me. I thought you may like it.”

“Oh?” His intention takes you by surprise.

He actually…thought of you? Wow. You didn’t know he could do that.

You don’t give it much thought, though. It’s probably due to her not being here.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

The outside of the restaurant takes you by surprise. The outside is made up of dark metal with grooves in it that imitates wood, which is a stark contrast to the rest of the Skyhaven’s white metallic look. A long window surrounds the perimeter. It’s a thin line and doesn’t take up much of the wall space. A faint, golden glow seeps into the glass.

Caleb’s long strides keep with your pace. He walks close to you, your purse acting as a boundary between your hips. You glance inside the restaurant’s window, seeing couples and semi-large parties inside the main dining room.

The Colonel opens up the business’ door, smiling down at you as you step inside, quietly thanking him.

The atmosphere is warm, the chilled air tingling away from your skin. You feel a pair of hands on your shoulders, shrugging your jacket off of your body. You watch him with an intense gaze.

His shoulders are so broad. You swear you can watch as his muscles tense then relax under the fabric as she hands over your jackets to an employee. Caleb turns to you, nodding as the hostess walks away. You swallow whatever spit you have in your mouth. You tell your feet to move, goosebumps forming across your skin when you feel his touch on the low of your back.

Caleb sticks close behind you, fingers grazing up and down your body. His eyes stare at the exposed skin of your neck, eyes drifting up to the side of your face. He smirks, watching as your lips part with a gasp, his fingers inching their way around your side. He’s unable to get a full grip of your side, though, when the hostess places menus on the table before you.

You step to your chair but Caleb is too quick for you, dragging it out. You roll your eyes at him and sit, the man pushing the chair in to meet your body. He sits at the spot in front of you, the table circular and on the smaller side, with a lit candle in the center of the table.

Taking a glance around the restaurant, you notice that you and Caleb are more towards the back. It’s like you’re hidden away so nobody can see you. Couples at other tables lean in, smiles adorned on their faces over the candle light, the dim lighting of the restaurant casting shadows over their faces.

The scenery and atmosphere is…strangely romantic.

“You look great in that dress,” Caleb’s voice brings your eyes back onto his. They drop to his arms, where his white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Your breath gets caught in your throat. You tear your gaze away and settle back onto his eyes.

“Thanks. I haven’t worn it for a year,” you respond with a shrug.

“Yeah?” He leans forward, his smile growing, “when was the last time you wore it?”

“Your funeral.”

Oh. Well. You know…I don’t know how to respond to that, Caleb thinks to himself. He purses his lips, brows knitted together, eyes narrowed from unease.

You stare at him with your arms crossed over your chest. You raise an eyebrow at his sour reaction. He was the one who died and magically came back to life with no explanation.

He sits up in his chair, resting his hands in his lap as his piercing violet eyes tear into yours. You shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as he comes up with the proper words to respond.

A waiter approaches the table, their face just barely illuminated from the light. He wears all black clothing and his smile is a little too friendly, his eyes dragging across your bare chest. You suck in a breath and glance at Caleb, who glares at the waiter.

“Good evening. May I start you two off with a bottle of wine or an appetizer?” The waiter asks, looking at you, not even a second to stare at Caleb. You simper at his gaze, only feeling slightly uncomfortable, as you take the wine list from his hands.

“He’s paying, so we’ll make it an expensive bottle,” you muse with a quiet chuckle. Caleb’s eyes break from the waiter and land on you. Goosebumps litter your skin as you pretend not to notice the intensity radiating from his body. “We’ll do this one,” you point out a name on the list to the waiter.

He dips down and his putrid cologne tinges your nostrils. You lean away, wincing from how his scent burns the inside of your nose. His lips curl into a toothy grin.

“Great choice. I’ll have it out for you in a few moments.” He walks away and you watch him. You relax into your seat when he vanishes from your eye line, turning back to Caleb. 

“Could you get even closer to him?” Caleb’s raspy voice cuts through the low lighting. You raise an eyebrow, confused by his sudden possessiveness towards you.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Caleb,” you roll your eyes and lean forward, dress grazing against the table, “you’ve only been in my life for twenty four hours. You don’t get to have a say on who gets close to me.”

“Don’t I?” He matches your lean, his purple eyes glowing from the candlelight. “I was in your life for a good amount—”

“Emphasis on was,” you interrupt him. He swipes his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head ever so slightly at you.

You know you’re teetering on a very, very line and fragile line with Caleb. A small amount of payback won’t kill the man. He did lead you on for that good amount of time he was in your life for so if it’s any consolation for you, it’s deserved.

“Let’s have a nice dinner,” you sigh. His darkened expression softens, his eyebrows relaxing. Catching a glimpse of his fists, you see them relax as well, his knuckles no longer white. “However, I do think you owe me an explanation about your so-called ‘death.’” You pause, looking to the side, before rushing to get the words out, “and I don’t want to talk about her either. I…I don’t particularly have fond memories of the three of us since things ended badly. I hope you can understand that.”

Caleb’s eyes slightly widen. A part of him knew that this was coming. He had been distracted all day, sitting at his desk, ignoring all of his duties as Colonel. He went through every memory that he could remember, ones that weren’t influenced by the chip in his body, and came to realization that towards the end, you weren’t there.

In the memories that you were in, you were in the background while she took center stage. It made Caleb feel like a fool, truly. He agonized over it. Just to know that he could have caused you so much pain and emotional turmoil ripped his heart apart. He plans on repaying and making up for it until his final breath.

Even in death, Caleb will find ways to make you feel important, that you matter.

“I promise,” he breathes out, eyes never leaving yours, “to not bring her up. Consider her banished from our relationship.”

You lean into the back of the chair, putting your full weight into it. You stare at him, wondering if what he said can be trusted. You sigh and nod, forcing a small smile onto your face. He beams at you and nods, sighing from relief.

The side of your heel glides against his leg. He sucks in a breath and you bat your eyelashes at him. You take your bottom lip between your two teeth, knowing that it will drive him absolutely crazy. The Colonel shifts in his seat, his eyes taking all the liberties he wants.

His demeanor has shifted so many times within the last minute. He went from happy, to sorrowful, then his anger took over, and now the look on his face tells you that he’s feeling some form of lust. Adrenaline runs through your veins because you simply don’t know what Caleb you’re going to get next.

He licks his lips when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You turn your attention to the dining room, looking upon the other couples and groups that mingle inside. A soft chuckle shakes your body.

The waiter comes back with a bottle of white wine and two glasses in hand. He sets the glasses in front of the two of you, but neither dare to break their gaze.

Caleb’s eyebrow slightly perks up and you tilt your head to the side, a sly smirk forming on your face.

The wine is poured, the pale yellow alcohol sitting pretty inside the glass. You make the first move. The glass is cool in your hand and you swirl the wine around, bringing the glass to your glossy lips.

The first sip of the Pinot Blanc has an exceptional fresh taste to it, complimenting the dryness to the wine. The aroma is fruity with hints of apple, Caleb’s favorite, and a side taste of citrus.

You glance at the waiter, who hovers at the small table. Caleb clears his throat, glaring at the man. The waiter doesn’t pay attention to Caleb, his eyes staying on you.

“The wine is delicious, thank you,” you set the glass down, fingers resting on the base of the glass. He nods but stays in his spot. Caleb’s fists ball on top of the white cloth. He opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to tap his knee with the tip of your high heel. You roll your eyes and take a deep breath, leaning towards the waiter. “As you can see, I’m here with him and not you. So, if you could please give us some privacy, that would be nice.”

Caleb watches you in awe. Your dominance is refreshing and is something he hasn’t experienced with her in a long time. She typically gave up after five minutes but you? You are fiery. You know what you want and you also know how to tell people to fuck off in ways he never knew how.

Has he finally met his match? Can you be the one to meet his fiery passion and loyalty?

“You can leave this here,” you reach out to the waiter, tapping the label on the wine bottle.

The waiter obeys, scrambling away. Caleb watches it as if he’s at a magic show, completely enthralled with the display you’re putting on for him.

This is a completely different side of you, one that he’s never seen before but desperately wants to get to know. If Caleb didn’t know any better, he would think that you also want to indulge in the sweetness of your blossoming love.

“Try the wine,” you grab your glass, emptying the contents into your mouth before refilling it. Caleb watches with an amused smile, tasting the wine as you said to do, and pauses. It’s…it’s delectable. It hits all of the flavor notes he’s been dying to taste in a good wine.

And you were the one who managed to find it.

“Hey,” he leans forward, capturing your attention. “Can we…start over? You know…a fresh start for us?”

Your eyes read humor and your smile is divine. You think about his proposal for a moment, tearing your gaze away, opting to look at the menu.

You know that he’s eagerly waiting for a response. Knowing Caleb, he’s impatient to know the result of your calculations. He watches you, focused on the way your foot taps against his shin and how your eyes scan the menu as if there’s anything remotely interesting on there.

Caleb is right there and he knows that he is way more interesting than the variety of food options the restaurant has to offer.

“What do you say?” He pesters. Your eyes shoot to his. Chills run down his spine.

“New life, new you, right?” You muse. Caleb can’t help but laugh, turning his head away from you.

Have you always been this funny? Your humor knows no bounds, truly. While some people would have groaned at your words, Caleb couldn’t help but see the lightheartedness behind them.

He knows that his death must have taken a large, emotional toll on you. It’s never easy losing someone you were once close to. Perhaps your humor is your way of dealing with uncomfortable and awkward situations. He can’t fault you for it. He too has been known to make light of many uncomfortable scenarios, such as failing his psych evaluation at the DAA. 

“Thank you,” he releases a sigh he didn’t even know he was holding in. You shake your head, his interest piqued.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” you bring the glass to your lips, licking them, “consider this dinner as your trial run.”

“Noted,” Caleb responds, eyes trained on your lips, wondering when he’s get a chance to taste the flavor of your lip gloss.

The dinner runs smooth, smoother than you or him could have ever anticipated. Your glasses never went empty and after a bottle or two, you could feel your tipsy giggles taking over your body as Caleb watched you with the biggest smile on his face.

Whenever you covered your face from embarrassment, he always made sure to peel them off so he can look upon your gorgeous face. He loves the way your cheeks turn a light pink color, an effect the alcohol has on you, and how your entire demeanor changes. You become light, airy.

Caleb basks in your delightful chuckles and you can’t help but feel closer to him every time he told you one of his stories from inside the Deepspace Tunnel.

The best part of it is that whenever you shared stories from your translator job, he didn’t make you feel insignificant or insufficient compared to him. Sure, you weren’t in a direct line of danger like he is. You don’t fight Wanderers nor do you patrol the Deepspace Tunnel like it’s nothing.

Your average Tuesday consists of translating, and sometimes even decrypting, secret messages and speeches that the Farspace Fleet intercept. To you, it’s a boring old desk job. To Caleb, you are one of the most integral parts of his job. Without you, his job would be much more difficult and he would be in shambles.

He always knew you were smart but your skills as a translator and linguist are truly impressive. He may be able to able to fly some of the most difficult planes and spaceships, but he’ll never be able to fully understand how to comprehend a different language.

It feels like there were no walls between you two. No angst for you to cling to and a time for Caleb to finally, and quite regrettably, get to know who you are after all these years.

To him, you’ve changed so much. You’ve broken free from your shell, one that him and her put you in, and have grown into a woman who is utterly captivating, someone who can control the room with a simple look and a voice that he never wants to stop listening to.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you breathe between quiet chuckles. You lean forward, a genuine smile on your face. “You’re telling me that you and your squad were scared of a creaking noise?”

“Yes,” Caleb leans in, slowly reaching out for your hand. His large hand lays on top of your tiny one and he is surprised that you don’t immediately pull away from him. The tips of his fingers trace the top of your hand, leaving random swirls and letters into your soft skin. His sight lowered to your hands.

It feels domestic to him, something that he never thought or imagined he would have with you. But here you are, allowing it to happen as you breathlessly laugh at his moment of stupidity while on patrol.

He loves it. He loves—

“Caleb?! Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick!”

His fingers stop, eyes shooting up to you. Your posture shifts. Your back is as straight as a board, eyes dissociated from the world.

You have become an entirely different person when her voice shrilled form behind you.

You can’t bring yourself to turn and look at her. You listen for her footsteps, hearing them approach before stopping behind you.

“You forgot your necklace at home! I was worried that something happened to you. Who are you with?” She circles the table settling the space to the side of the table. Your hand retracts from his and Caleb can’t help but stare at the tears that brim in your eyes. You look to the spot around his neck, one where the necklace that dangles from her hand should be hanging. 

“I left a note for you—” Caleb begins.

“Is that who I think it is?” She says in a hushed tone to him, staring you with a look that says back off. 

Your eyes stagger to meet his. His lips part, staring at you like he’s just been caught red handed.

Of course. It was so easy to see what this is.

You tilt your chin up, finally looking up at her. She’s all dolled up, makeup absolutely flawless, elevating her natural beauty. She wears a simple blue bow in her dark hair, which travels just below her shoulders. Her outfit is pretty too, nothing that you can pull off anyways, and she radiates I’m better than you energy.

Your stomach turns on itself. You stare at the wine glasses, ears ringing, wondering why the fuck you had to drink so much. It’s because you felt comfortable with him, yes, but you should have known something like this would happen.

You’re nine years old. She feels left out so you give her a present to open. You hate sharing your birthday.

You’re twelve and sitting alone while they get ice cream together. You’re filled with disappointment when they forgot to get you something.

You’re fifteen years old again. The sting of rejection and embarrassment cuts into your skin at the sight of her when he says he can’t go to the dance.

You’re sixteen years old and watching as they leave your game, hand in hand, not even bothering to say goodbye.

You feel your inner child die. Caleb the Knight has finally slain the monstrous and rotten dragon that has done nothing but ask for love.

“How have you been? It’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” She beams at you.

“I’ve been fine,” you fake a smile but are unable to keep a cheery charade as your smile immediately falters, the corner of your lip twitching. Your nostrils tingle. Your throat throbs from holding back tears.

“You should have waited for me back at the apartment,” Caleb’s face never turns away from yours. A quiet gasp falls from your lips.

At the apartment? Are you sleeping with her? Are you two dating? Have I been made a fool again?

Questions flood into your mind. You’re unable to stop them, not that you want to anyways, as the realization of what’s happening weighs down on your shoulders.

This is the unmistakable feeling of dread.

You stare at him, tears threatening to fall from your eyes, as your hands grip onto the skirt of your dress for dear life. Your nails dig into the palms of your hand through the fabric, stinging your skin.

“I’ve been waiting! I didn’t know you were meeting up with someone,” she turns to you and looks at the plate in front of you. “Is that salmon? I love salmon!”

Suddenly, you hate salmon.

Thinking rashly and acting off of pure instinct, you stand from your chair. The table clatters, silverware clanging into each other, when the top of your thighs hit the table.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, glass of wine tipping over, splashing onto her. It shatters on impact when it falls to the ground. Embarrassment crashes through your body like a tsunami, ears turning a bright red color from the heat you feel in your head.

“Are you okay?” Caleb jumps to your side, grabbing your arm with kindness and sincerity. You rip your lib away from him, shaking your head.

“I’m fine,” your voice shakes. You look at her, who watches with a dropped jaw. “It was…so nice seeing you again.” You push the painful words out, your throat tightening around itself. Nausea sweeps your body and you grab your purse from the back of your chair, throwing the skinny strap over your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn away from the duo, who are so clearly made for each other, and rush through the restaurant.

You accidentally bump into a hostess who leads a couple to their table. You gasp and drop to the floor, helping her up, choking out apologies to her. You hear Caleb call your name from behind, trying to keep up with you, but refuse to turn around.

You simply can’t! You can’t see the look on his face, the one every man has when he realizes that he was caught being a two timing scumbag. 

This is just like high school. This is just like the failed homecoming dance when you cried yourself to sleep. This is just like the time Caleb ditched your game because she wanted to go home and watch a movie instead.

Hot tears streak down your face. You wipe your eyes, the fabric around your hands soon becoming soaked from the salty tears. You rush to the door, everyone’s eyes on you. The employee in the coat closet stares at you with bewildered eyes. You ignore him, leaving your jacket behind, as you burst into the ice cold night air.

There’s no rain but you really hoped there would be. You’d be able to escape into the night, going unnoticed as you ran to your apartment. It’s be cinematic, yes, but in all the worst ways possible. It would have been your punishment for being so fucking stupid.

How could you have thought that this would have gone well? Did you really think that Caleb, out of all people, could actually fucking care about you? He’s a man! He could care less about your feelings! As long as he ends the night in bed next to her, he’d be fine.

It wouldn’t matter if you cried yourself to sleep that night. It wouldn’t matter if you deleted and blocked his number. It wouldn’t matter if you ended up getting hit by a car, falling into a deep coma that you’d never wake from.

The only thing that matters is that Caleb is in love with her. Not you.

Your vision is blurred. Your mascara streaks down your cheeks. The street is busy, filled with cars from the night traffic. They whizz by at top notch speeds, your dress skirt getting caught in the air. You hold your hand out, trying to hail a taxi.

“Taxi!” You yell in a pained cry. Your legs wobble. Your arms ache. Your body feels as if it’s shutting down on itself from the grief you’ve just gone through.

Caleb breaks through the restaurant door. He scans the area, chest rapidly rising and falling, and his eyes land on you, who sways back and forth right next to the curb. His heart sinks into his stomach and he leaps towards you, hand outstretched.

You feel your body tense, going still. A tear stops halfway down your cheek. Your eyes dart around, looking for someone to help you. Your name shoots from Caleb’s mouth and you let out a cry, closing your eyes.

“Leave me alone!” You sob. His evol releases you but you’re immediately pulled into his chest. His arms trap you against him, body trembling from sadness and anger, his palms flattening against your hips. “Let me go, Caleb.”

“No. Let’s talk about this,” his chin rests on your shoulder, hunched over. He presses his nose into the side of your neck, his breath only making your body hotter than it needs to be. “Let me explain, please!”

“No! You don’t — Caleb!” You throw your shoulders backward. He stumbles back but takes you with him. His arms remain frigid. “Let me go.”

“No.”

“Caleb, I swear on my life that if you don’t let me go, you’ll never see me again.” Your words push through gritted teeth. Caleb stares at you, knowing that’s not true, that wherever you go, he’ll follow like a lost dog. He humors the sentiment, though, and slowly relaxes his grip.

You turn around and shove him away from you. Red eyes, ruined makeup, and a heart that has officially rotted, you stare at him. He tries to come close to you but you shove him away, using every bit of strength you can muster. He takes a step back, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I swear, it’s not what it—”

“What it what? Looks like?!” You yell at him.

People turn their heads and watch. They whisper amongst themselves, pointing and bringing their cameras out to record incase the encounter goes south. Cars honk and sirens blare in the distance.

“Please,” his voice cracks, a hand extending towards you, “this is all one big misunderstanding!”

“What could be misunderstood, Caleb? The fact that she came looking for you? Or the fact you brought me to a place that men take their mistresses to?” You turn away but he uses his evol to turn you back around. You let out a frustrated yell. He holds his hands up, shaking his head.

“Hey, hey, let’s try to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Your screech interrupts him. You point to the restaurant behind you two. “Caleb! You made me your mistress! She literally showed up looking for you! She brought that stupid fucking necklace and asked why you weren’t home!”

“Please—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” You turn around, holding your face in your hands. Your breaths are deep, heavy, as your lungs burn from the inside, the lack of oxygen causing your body to ache. You hunch over, hand over your chest, fingers digging into your chest.

Maybe it’s the wine clouding your judgement, maybe it’s the walls you built from the constant years of betrayal and lackluster friendships, but you just want to disappear.

Anywhere but here would be better. Hell, even a date with George would have been better than this.

Caleb is quick to circle you. He drops to his knee in front of you, trying to get a look at your face, to try and have a conversation. He brushes hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m so stupid,” your words are just above a whisper. Caleb shakes his head, fighting back tears of his own.

“No. No you aren’t. Don’t say that,” the words tumble from his mouth.

“Yes, I am. I thought I could trust you. I thought that things changed—”

“They did change! She’s just here on a mission and needed a place to stay, that’s all—”

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you shake your head, lifting your head up. You take a deep breath.

You look at the chaotic street. Cars drive by and honk at each other. They don’t stop for anyone. All of the anger and sadness you once felt slips from your body. Your mind and body go numb.

“I don’t want to see you again.”

Your words shake Caleb to his core. He stands, looking down at you.

“No! No, please don’t do this to me—”

“I can’t trust you. You’ve made me look like an idiot.”

“Let me make it up top you!”

“I want nothing to do with you. Or her. I deserve better than this. Than you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“You haven’t changed. She’s always going to come between us.”

“That’s not true! I have changed!”

“You’ve broken my heart, Caleb.”

Caleb grabs hold of your shoulders. He cranes his head down so he’s at eye level with you. You stare into nothing, unable to stop the tears that roll down your cheeks. He stares into your eyes, his devotion and his everything.

That’s you. But you can’t see it.

“Caleb?” Her voice carries to the two of you. “Where are you? Let’s go home!”

You can’t help but laugh. Hysteria takes over your body. You finally come out from your dissociation, looking into Caleb’s violent and bronze eyes.

“You better hurry up or she’ll leave you too.” You shrug his hands off of your shoulders, stepping around him. You whistle and a taxi immediately pulls to the curb. You get in, the last part of your beating heart turning into outright decay, your core nothing but rotten scraps of the girl you’ve left behind.

[nilla03]

𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 ღ

𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡: 𝑡𝑜𝑗𝑖 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝘩𝑜𝑝𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑦 𝘩𝑖𝑚 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠: 𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑗𝑖, 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑝, 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑐

Toji Fushiguro had a weakness for spoiling you. He wouldn’t admit it outright, but the way his calloused hand found your lower back as he guided you into the high-end boutique said it all. You didn’t need to pout or beg—he’d already planned to indulge you, his deep pockets burning for the chance to see your pretty eyes light up.

“Go ahead, princess,” he murmured, his gravelly voice sending a shiver down your spine as his hand slipped to squeeze your hip. “Pick whatever catches your eye. I don’t want to hear no complaints later about not having anything to wear.”

You smiled up at him, your glossed lips glinting under the boutique’s soft lights. Dressed in a short pink dress with matching strappy heels, you looked every bit the spoiled little doll he loved to treat. “Whatever I want?” you teased, batting your lashes as you clutched his arm.

Toji smirked down at you, his green eyes flashing with amusement. “You heard me. Don’t hold back.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. With a playful sway of your hips, you wandered off, your soft giggles filling the air as you browsed through racks of dresses, skirts, and tops. Toji leaned against a counter, arms crossed, watching you with a lazy grin as you picked out pieces, holding them up for his opinion.

“This one?” you asked, showing off a snug, body-hugging dress in white.

He tilted his head, taking his time to rake his eyes over you. “Hmm. Try it on. Let’s see if it’s as good on you as I’m picturing.”

You added it to the growing pile draped over your arm, along with a few other items he insisted you grab. Once you’d gathered enough to model for him, he followed you to the fitting rooms, his large frame shadowing yours.

Inside the dressing room, you tried on piece after piece, stepping out to give him a spin each time. Toji, lounging in a plush chair outside your door, hummed his approval or offered teasing critiques, his gaze heated and heavy as it trailed over your figure.

But it was the final dress—a soft pink mini with a sweetheart neckline—that had his jaw tightening and his hands clenching against his thighs. You stepped out, adjusting the hem with a shy smile, and his sharp inhale was all the confirmation you needed.

“Well?” you asked, turning for him, the fabric hugging your curves perfectly.

Toji didn’t say a word. Instead, he stood, his imposing frame towering over you as he stalked into the dressing room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

“Too good,” he murmured, his rough hands finding your waist and spinning you to face the mirror. His chest pressed against your back, his lips ghosting over your ear as his eyes locked on yours in the reflection. “Way too good for anyone else to see.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling low in your belly as his hands slid down to the hem of the dress, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to skim along the tops of your thighs. “T-Toji,” you whispered, your voice trembling as his grip tightened.

“You got me twisted, doll,” he growled, his tone low and rough. “Parading around in this like you’re not mine. You want me to keep spoiling you, huh? Let me remind you who’s footing the bill.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that had your knees going weak. His hands roamed your body, tugging the dress higher as he pressed his hips against you, letting you feel the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Toji—someone might hear,” you whimpered, though you made no move to stop him.

“Let ‘em,” he muttered against your skin, his tone dripping with smugness. “Let them hear how good I make my girl feel.”

He didn’t give you a chance to argue. His fingers found the waistband of your panties, tugging them down in one swift motion before cupping your cunt, “look at that doll, she’s already quivering for me”. A soft gasp escaped your lips, his scar on his top lip lifting slightly as he smirked, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Keep quiet for me,” he rasped, slipping a finger sliding into your wet cunt and groaning at how ready you were for him. “Wouldn’t want to get us kicked out before I’m finished with you.”

The noises that were coming out of your pussy had your face turning a bright pink, toji was the only man that could get you like this. Your poor cunt was gushing against his fingers, juices dripping against his hand and forearm “to-toji! This is so embarrassing- oh!”

Your hands clutched at his forearms, your head falling back against his chest as he worked your pretty cunt with practiced ease, his free hand sliding up to palm your breast through the thin fabric of the dress. The combination of his fingers sliding in and out, his rough hand touching your breast. Ugh! His filthy words had your head spinning your body arching into him as you fought to keep your whimpers quiet.

But Toji didn’t make it easy. His fingers thrusted in a fast pace, your walls fluttered at the stretch, his pace unrelenting before gripping your thighs and spreading them. Leaving you wide open for anyone to see, you know for a fact that your cunt is leaving a mess against his lap and the chair.

“Oh my god toji- fuuck!” You whined grinding against his fingers poor little body begging to cream all over his fingers

“That’s it, doll,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “Just a little more, you can do it doll just a little more- yeahh just like that”

Your perfect polished nails are digging into his arms, your hips are frantically moving back n forth against his fingers “toji! I’m gonna-“

Your soft cunt walls clenched against him again before letting out a stream all over his jeans underneath you, coating your inner thighs and his hand

“Fuck, princess,” he muttered against your lips, his hands tangling in your hair.

“Guess I earned that dress, huh?”

Toji chuckled, his green eyes dark and mischievous. “You’ve earned a whole damn closet. Now, c’mere—let me help you out of it.”

[mariasont]

i have a fic request what about like bimbo assistant reader x hotch and they go for like a team night out or something and ofc reader wears something cute and probably a tad bit too short and maybe she sees one of her friends or just dances with one of the bau girls and hotch just watches from the booth and his jaw is literally on the floor and the guys are trying to have a conversation with him and he’s just completely unaware of what’s happening around him

Red Flags & Pink-Colored Glasses - A.H

summary: hotch shouldn't be at this bar, shouldn't be watching you while you dance in that too-short dress and he definitely shouldn't be the one trying to teach you a lesson about bad men, not when he's fighting every instinct to be one. pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader warning tags: alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy, hotch is suffering), pre-relationship pining, mentions of past toxic relationships, protective!hotch, jealously/protectiveness, accidental touching, repressed feelings, hotch contemplating murder wc: 2.2k

Hotch could lie to himself and pretend he had no idea how he ended up here, but that would be exactly that, a lie.

He knew.

It was because you had asked him, bright-eyed, voice melting like white chocolate on his tongue, and something long disciplined into obedience had caved. At some point along the path of your employment, he had come to realize he had developed this inexplicable inability to deny you.

He had agreed to one drink. Technically, he was keeping his word. Said first drink was sitting half-full on the table, a thin line of amber liquid sloshing against the sides every time he gripped it too hard. Two hours had passed and he was still here, still planted in this booth, still convincing himself he wasn't waiting for something he shouldn't want.

He knew he should leave. He could leave. He had every capability. His legs worked just fine and his willpower had seen him through worse (I mean, for gods sake, he worked with you everyday). But he also knew there wasn't a chance in hell he was walking out that door when you were still on that dance floor.

Not because he didn't trust you. Of course, he trusted you. He trusted JJ and Emily and Garcia, too, though that didn’t stop his jaw from locking up every time one of them spun you, making your dress rise higher on your thighs. And being a profiler came with its downfalls, one of them the acute, inescapable awareness of how every single man in this bar had their eyes on you.

On your legs. Your thighs. Your hips. Your breasts. Your ass.

He knew how they thought and how they operated and worse than that, he knew he was acting no different. Because his own gaze had been glued to you all night.

And he hated that. Hated that his pulse kicked up whenever you laughed, that his fingers itched to tug that dress a little lower, that he had half a mind to send every single one of those men home in body bags.

Hotch exhaled before tipping his glass against his lips, the drink was barely cold anymore, the bite of alcohol dulled from where the ice had long since melted, not that it mattered, not that he noticed.

You were swaying your hips now, and he shouldn't be watching you, especially not like this. Not with this lump that was screwing up tightly in his throat, with some part of him wanting to abandon reason entirely and just pull you back down into the booth beside him where he could keep you sedentary.

Physics had a rule for this, right? An object in motion stays in motion. Sounds about right.

It took him a second to process a voice piercing through his thoughts. Morgan. Talking. Right. He should probably be listening.

He blinked, refocusing. He could see Morgan’s mouth moving. Could hear the general cadence of a conversation happening, but not a single word was registering.

And then Morgan laughed. "Man, you're not even pretending to listen."

Hotch blinked, forcing himself to look away from you long enough to level them with a stare. "What?"

Rossi gave him a look before leaning back, like he wasn't going to push the subject. "I still don't know how we managed to get you out tonight."

Mogan nodded. "Yeah, I was expecting the usual, grumbling about paperwork, maybe a half-hearted have fun before you disappeared like a ghost."

"I don't disappear," Hotch said flatly.

Rossi scoffed. "You do if we turn out heads for five seconds."

"Batman-style," Morgan agreed, grinning. "One minute you're there, and the next, gone. Poof."

"That's an exaggeration," Reid cut in. "Batman's disappearances rely on strategic misdirection, which, while impressive, aren't—"

"Not the point, kid."

Morgan turned back to Hotch, still grinning. "Point is, you're still here, and that's weird."

Rossi nodded, swirling his drink. "So what's the angle? Trying to prove us wrong? Or just waiting for us to stop paying attention so you can slip out the back?"

"That does seem like the more likely scenario," Reid mused.

Hotch signed, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. "Do you all spend this much time keeping tabs on each other's whereabouts, or am I just the lucky one tonight?"

"Oh, this is just for you, old man."

The conversation dissolved into static the second he caught the faintest whiff of your perfume. Some part of him recognized it immediately, sugar and flowers, something that had clung to his suit in phantom traces after too many hours spent near you. His pulse stalled. A fraction of a second where his body froze like it had learned, through painful repetition, to prepare for the inevitable distraction.

And then he saw you. All smiles, all tipsy giggles, flushed and glowing skin moving toward the table like some ridiculous vision, wrapped in pink and glitter with the careless beauty of someone who had never one second-guessed how easily they could command attention.

Hotch swore the rest of the room dimmed, reduced to shadows in his periphery and he had to forcibly remind himself to breathe because Christ, that dress was really that short, wasn't it?

You had a drink in your hand. And you looked happy. And warm. And a little unsteady on your heels.

The second your eyes found him, your whole face transformed, lit up like fireworks. Never mind that he had been here all night. Never mind that you had already waved at him enough times to make it clear you knew he existed. This time, apparently, counted more than the rest.

You waved. The motion sent your drink lurching dangerously in your hand, the liquid kissing the rim in protest, and before you could overcorrect, your heel tipped just enough that you stumbled, swaying too far to the right.

It wasn't much, just a little misstep, but it was enough to make Hotch move on instinct, his hand closing around your elbow guiding you into the booth beside him before either of you could think twice.

And then, because his life could never be easy, your dress slid up.

Just an inch, maybe two, of more thigh than should be visible. Nothing scandalous, just the kind of softness that could undo a man if he let it.

Hotch noticed. But then, so did someone else.

Some nameless stranger's eyes dragged, slow, audacious, a miscalculation he wouldn't be making again because Hotch's stare landed like a blade against his throat. Sharp and completely final. It was immediate that the same man was now finding the ceiling, the wall, the floor, anywhere but you, exceedingly fascinating.

Smart.

The second you're fully seated in the booth, you tip into him, like a magnet pulled to its inevitable counterpart. Your arm burns against his, the warmth of your skin creeping through fabric like a slow, smoldering fuse. He shouldn't let you, but he doesn't move, doesn't stop it, doesn't do anything but let it happen. 

Then as if you had any right to be this careless with him, you smile.

"Hi."

He should say something, should probably acknowledge the absurdity of how close you are, the way your perfume is now thick in his lungs, the way every fleck of light caught on your lashes, the shimmer scattered across your cheekbones like you'd been dipped in gold. He should ask why you wear it, how you do it, this thing where you make the prettiest parts of yourself even prettier.

He wants to do all these things but instead, because he's a coward, he just watches you. And when he finally forces a response, it comes out quieter than he intends.

"...Hi."

You hold your drink up between you. "You should try this. It's so good."

Hotch glanced down at it. It's the kind of drink that shouldn't exist outside of a beach vacation. Something red or pink or maybe orange, hard to tell under the low lights, undeniably fruity, he was sure. The kind that would probably leave him regretting his choices within minutes.

"No, thanks."

"Your loss," you mumble, as if you genuinely feel bad for him, then take a long sip, eyes fluttering shut like you're savoring the best thing you've ever tasted. "S'okay, more for me."

You glance at him, eyes still sparkling from whatever's buzzing in your bloodstream. "Are you having fun? 'Cause I'm having fun."

"I can tell."

You barely noticed how your drink wobbled under the careless placement of your elbow, or how your blinks stretched just a fraction too long, like your thoughts were floating somewhere just beyond your reach.

Hotch, however, did. "Do you want some water?"

Your pout deepened, your voice dipping into something vaguely petulant. "No, Hotch. I don't want water. Why would I want water?"

Before he could counter you, you moved, too loose-limbed, too uncoordinated, and suddenly your hand was on his thigh, gripping just a little too fight, fingers digging in for balance.

Hotch hissed under his breath, hands snapping to your waist before you could push this any further, intentionally or not.

"Okay, honey," he muttered, vocal chords strained. "C'mon."

Hotch kept you steady as he led you to the bar, your weight pressing into his side like you'd entirely abandoned the idea of walking on your own. By the time he handed you a water from the bartender, you squinted at it like it required advanced problem-solving.

"You're too nice to me."

Hotch sighed, rubbing a slow hand down his face. "If this is your definition of too nice, you've been dealing with the wrong men."

"Well, yeah." You took a sip of water then grinned like he had said something funny. "But I thought we'd already covered that."

Hotch's jaw locked. His grip on the bar tightened. Had he blacked out? Had there been a conversation where you casually admitted to dating the worst men alive?

"No." His eye twitched. "We didn't."

You pursed your lips, thinking. "Huh. Maybe I just thought you knew."

"That’s not really something I should just… know."

"I mean, I don't think it's that surprising."

"Why," he asked, each syllable carefully controlled, "would that not be surprising?"

"I don't know, Hotch. I mean, look at me."

He was. That was the problem.

"I'm not, like... super great at spotting red flags. I mostly think oh he's kinda mean but maybe he just had a bad day," you admitted, swirling your water with a little too much focus."You know, things like that."

Hotch inhaled sharply. Things like that. The thought of you sitting across from some guy, smiling, excusing his bullshit, convincing yourself he didn't mean to be cruel, made his stomach churn.

He wanted names. He wanted to know if any man had ever made you feel less than the goddamn sun, and if so, he wanted to make sure they never breathed the same air as you again. He wanted to show you. Show you how a man should look at you, should treat you.

But he wasn't that man.

Instead, he forced out an even voice. "You know that excusing bad behavior only teaches someone they can keep doing it right?" You titled your head, smiling up at him. "Mmm, yeah, that makes sense."

Hotch sighed, rubbing his temples. "Okay. Noted."

You blinked up at him. "Noted?"

"Yes. As in, we're going to talk about this again when you're sober enough to realize why what you just said was deeply concerning."

"But that doesn't sound fun."

Hotch's lips pressed into a straight line. "Neither does finding out you ignored a red flag because you liked a guy's smile."

Without warning, you reached up and placed a hand on his face, your fingertips pressing against his jaw as you studied him, way too close.

Hotch went completely still. "What are you—,"

"But you have a really great smile," you mumbled, squinting at him like this was some shocking new discovery, despite the fact, that he hadn't done anything remotely resembling a smile in the last ten minutes.

His jaw tensed beneath your touch, but he didn't pull away. His voice sounded different when he finally muttered your name.

You huffed, dragging your fingers down his cheek like he was some sort of sculpture you were admiring.

"You'd be worth it," you sighed dreamily. "I’d ignore so many red flags for you. So many."

Hotch felt like a man standing on a ledge, heart in his throat, knowing the drop was inevitable.

Your fingers were soft against his skin, moving far too slow, too easy, like you knew you could get away with it. All he wanted was to catch your wrist, drag you in, kiss you until you couldn't say things like that anymore. Until you have something real to ignore.

But that would be a mistake. A selfish, unforgivable mistake.

You needed to learn that some men didn't deserve saving, weren't worth the risk. That just because someone looked at you the way he did, ached for you the way he did, didn't mean they were good for you.

His voice came low and rough. "That's not the conclusion you should be coming to."

You pouted up at him, then practically threw yourself against him, arms wrapped tight around his waist. "Hotch, I was joking."

His entire body locked up, his hands hovering, unsurely. "You shouldn't joke about things like that."

You hummed, completely unconcerned, pressing your cheek to his chest. "Mmm, but you know, you don't have any of those."

"Those?"

You sighed and your breath was warm against his shirt.

"Those... bad things I always miss in people." Before he could correct you, you sighed again, breath warm against his shirt, voice nothing but soft, drunken honesty. "You're the best man I've ever known."

Hotch's hands betrayed him, settling against your back, pulling you in, holding you like he had a right to. Like he could protect you from the exact kind of man he was trying to tell you to avoid.

It was a lie. A beautiful, easy one, but a lie nonetheless. And it was dangerous, how easily you fit against him, how naturally your body responded to being his for just a second.

And most of all, it was cruel, how much he wanted to believe you.

His fingers curled against the small of your back before he forced himself to let go.

"Alright," he murmured. "Let's get you home."

Hotch had barely taken two steps past the table when Morgan let out a slow whistle, shaking his head like he’d seen something interesting.

"Man," he drawled, "and here I assumed you were just deep in thought earlier."

Hotch exhaled through his nose. "Goodnight, Morgan."

Morgan grinned, lifting his drink. "Oh, it already is."

💌 masterlist

taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[after-witch]

A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Title: A Snowy Interlude [Yandere Illumi x Reader]

Synopsis: You play in the snow--a rare treat.

Word count: 1418

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of past abuse

“Are… you… sure this is… allowed?”

Even if it weren’t cold, your words would have come out slow and almost stuttered. But the cold air doesn’t do anything to help the eloquence of your speech, which comes out haltingly, words carefully chosen and accompanied by puffs of your whitened breath. 

Illumi’s face remains, as almost always, impassive.

“What do you mean, allowed?” He asks, finally, watching as you take each piece of winter clothing from the standing butler and slip them on. Gloves, a scarf, a hat, all fitted perfectly to your form. 

It would have been nicer to put them on before stepping out into the winter air, but you hadn’t been outside in months, and you weren’t going to complain about a thing. He did have you step into winter boots first, at least, and a winter coat. 

“I just mean,” you reply, watching as the butler gestures for you to step into a pair of thick, puffy snow pants–the kind you used to wear as a kid, “I haven’t been outside in… a while.” 

Your voice warbles as you hold onto the butler’s arm support and step into the puffy pants; butlers were the only other people you were allowed to touch, besides Illumi. Even then, they knew to never touch first; you could touch them like furniture, like a useful thing. 

Illumi hums. “No, you haven’t. I felt it inappropriate for you to be outside.” 

You don’t comment–you don’t want him to elaborate and change his mind. Or worse, decide that it is inappropriate for a newly-minted Zoldyck wife to step outside the mansion looking like an oversized marshmallow.

Once you’re dressed, the butler stands aside, and you let your gaze wander across the garden. 

It had really been snowing. Illumi had let you sit at the window watching as the flakes fell, thin and almost rain-like at first, but then gradually getting thicker and fluffier as the day went on. It snowed for almost three days straight and now the entire estate looked like something out of a pretty winter story–the roofs all covered in white, the same pretty sparkling white that covered the ground and went up past your knees.

It was all waiting, just beyond the cobblestone path leading back inside the estate. It had been neatly shoveled out and you tried to picture the butlers shoveling it bit by bit, as your neighbors were no doubt doing back home. Well. What had been home, before all this. 

Illumi doesn’t make to move, and you give him an awkward look. 

“Um. So. Can I… go out there?” It’s a silly question, you realize. Why get you all dressed up for being outside if you were just going to stand on the shoveled path? Oh. Well. Actually. Maybe it's not so silly, and Illumi was just being irritatingly over-protective about the cold.

And perhaps you’re right to question it, because Illumi’s eyebrows furrow. Just a little. Just enough to notice.

“Oh,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered it. He pauses, and you wonder if this is it, your time outside will just be spent standing at staring. “... Yes. I suppose that’s all right.”

Something like happiness prickles your chest and you step away from the shoveled cobblestones, boots sinking into the deep snow. The sound of each step is so familiar, so nostalgic; the swish of your snow pants with every movement, the soft crunching of the snow, the way it yields underneath your boots.

Your smile grows without you realizing it as you make your way into the garden, arms out at your sides for balance. How long is it since you’ve been in the snow like this? Even before Illumi took you, it wasn’t like you had the time for it. 

You were a kid, surely. Maybe 12 or 13, the last time it was still considered cool to dress in bulky outerwear and trudge your sled up to the neighborhood sledding hill. 

A sense of wonder overtakes you, and it feels like the past few months are left behind you, standing alongside Illumi and the butler–the training, the pain, the burns, the bruises, the broken arm and fingers. The instructions and etiquette and rules, rules, rules. 

How could they come with you, as you begin to trudge–happy then happier–through the snow? 

It’s so thick you feel like if you fell down, you’d be lost in it. Maybe you’ll sink to the ground. Maybe you could make a snow angel–or a cave. The urge to fall overtakes you as it so often did in childhood and you simply plop backward in the snow. The thump hides the sound of Illumi rushing forward, though perhaps he would have known how to run through the snow silently anyway.

When you look up, you see Illumi, of course. But beyond that is what you’re interested in: the sky above you, all blue and lovely. There’s whiteness, too, the sparkling prettiness of the snow all around you. Some of the cold has seeped underneath your coat and scarf, burning your ears. But you don’t mind.

Of course, you’re eventually forced to acknowledge him, and you finally let your gaze focus on Illumi. He’s leaning down, his hair almost becoming a black curtain.

“Why did you fall?” He looks–almost concerned, you think. “Are you having a heart attack?” It’s funny, really, the way he phrases his so calmly. If you weren’t becoming somewhat decent at reading him, you might think he was joking. 

He’s not. So–

You blink up at him.

Then you move your arms and legs up and down, up and down, making a snow angel underneath you.

Illumi blinks back.

“Perhaps you’ve had a stroke.”

You grin, then, and clutch a handful of snow underneath your gloves. 

“I didn’t, to both. Haven’t you ever made a snow angel?” You ask, curling the snow together, beginning to form a ball and idly wondering if you’re brave enough to do it.

Illumi straightens his back, and looks at the impressions of snow you’ve left behind your arms and legs. He doesn’t seem impressed.

“No. I haven’t.”

Something pangs inside you, and a question floats up: what kind of childhood did Illumi have, anyway? Maybe he never played in the snow. Never made a snow angel, never spent hours digging out a snow cave with friends. Never slid down a hill and bashed into a tree and it hurt but it was fun all the same.

It must have been hard. 

Your fingers curl around your newly made snowball and instead of chucking it as his face, you sit up, and start pulling in more snow to make it bigger.

“What are you doing?”

You don’t answer. Instead you keep going, scooping, gathering, and rolling until you’ve got the makings of a fantastic snowman butt.

“Are you going to answer me?” There’s enough of a sharp pin in his tone and you hoist yourself up, using the round snowman butt as leverage.

“I’m making a snowman,” you answer. “But all I’ve got is the butt.” You gesture to your creation, stalling for the time needed to create the words, to ask the question. Surprising, how hard it is to ask Illumi to do something like this.

“If you want, you could… get some gloves and join me?” 

Illumi looks around you, at the disheveled mess you’ve made of the pristine fallen snow, at the clumps of snow clinging to your snow pants, your gloves, your hat. At the large round ball you’re proclaiming is a snowman butt.

At your face, beaming, carefree, in a way he’s never seen you look since before he took you.

“I don’t mind the cold,” is all he says, before he leans down and begins to mimic the way you scooped snow together. 

It doesn’t hold. He’s awful at it. And you do something you’ve never done before, at least, not on your own initiative–you place your gloved hands over his and curl your fingers in the right way, so that the snow gets packed together properly.

Illumi goes still, and you pretend not to notice, because you think he’d rather you didn’t. 

Instead, you keep on making your snowman, as Illumi slowly but surely gets the hang of it.

“I’m glad it snowed so much,” you say, quietly, cheerily, wondering if a butler could run inside to get carrots and something for the snowman to wear.

Illumi, in response, hums.

It’s as close as you’ll get to agreement.