#except im still against that tie

[stardeus]

[pathologicalreid]

could we get Spencer Reid with a hypersexual reader that uses sex as a bad coping mechanism? 💕💕

don't look in the mirror | S.R.

seeking comfort in those you hold close, except there's a right way and a wrong way to do it

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (i think?) w/ mature themes (18+ mdni) content warnings: seeking comfort in sex, avoidance, mental health issues, spencer has those info dumps on lock, shame, self deprecation, reader hates her job (me too), blood as a metaphor, crying word count: 1.85k a/n: this is such an important topic and i'm so thankful for you asking me to write this!!!! i know this is a premise i've seen before, so i tried to make mine different. (im actually really proud of how this one turned out)

“Baby,” Spencer whispered in your ear, turning his head to the side as you left small, slow kisses on the exposed skin of his neck.

You hummed but refused to detach your lips from his soft skin, tugging gently at his shirt so that you could make your way down to his collarbone. He smelled like sunshine and the jet, an admittedly odd combo that did nothing to stop your movements down the column of his throat. His neck vibrated with sound, but none of his words registered, it all went in one ear and out the other.

His hand gently settled on the small of your back and you took a deep breath before you began pulling at the knot of his tie, “Y/N,” he muttered in a warning.

Your head snapped up at his tone, disappointed that you didn’t find the same want in his eyes that you knew was blazing in your own irises. Synapses in your brain were firing at lightning speed, and your heart was beating so quickly that it was like it was trying to keep up. “I missed you,” you whispered to him, allowing your eyes to flitter across his face.

Spencer settled his hands on your hips, firmly grabbing them in exactly the way you wanted, but instead of pulling you closer to him, he stilled their rotation.

Your heart stuttered.

“What happened?” He asked you tentatively, using the pads of his thumbs to rub soothing circles on your hips, trying to keep you from moving while giving you comfort. Despite the way you were sitting in his lap, Spencer still felt worlds away from you – if he was on Earth, you were in a different galaxy. 

Hesitantly, your lips parted, and you took a deep breath before shutting your mouth again, deciding you had nothing to say. While he’d been away, nothing significant had happened, everything in your life had trudged on exactly the way it always did. You went to work at the same job you’ve had since you got out of college with a boss who most certainly had it out for you, and you came home to an empty apartment with your phone volume all the way up, waiting for your boyfriend to call you. You really were pathetic, but you didn’t voice those concerns, instead, you answered, “Nothing happened,” the half-truth easily slid from your mouth. “Can’t I just have missed my boyfriend and want to spend quality time with him?”

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head back as his hair moved with him, “Stop, Y/N,” he said.

Without even realizing it, your hands had drifted down to his chest, and your hands were absentmindedly fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, “I didn’t…” you started to say, but your words faltered when you noticed the way he was looking at you. You looked over your shoulder, making sure that the rest of the world was still there as you tried to climb off of Spencer’s lap. “Let me go,” you insisted, hating how small your voice sounded as you pushed against him to no avail.

“I can’t let you go, not right now,” he told you, steadying his resolve as he watched you. You were staring at your hands like they were covered in blood, red-covered palms as you watched, horrified at the idea of them developing a mind of their own. It wasn’t as if your hands had suddenly become sentient entities, your heart and your brain were working against each other, fighting a silent, internal war. “Pick a spot for your hands, and just leave them there,” he whispered to you.

Your hands tremored as you settled them on either one of Spencer’s shoulders, “You don’t find me attractive anymore,” you mumbled, struggling to find the strength to enunciate your thoughts.

Spencer sighed, “Why don’t we take a minute, okay?” Delicately, he moved one hand from its station on your hip and moved it to cup your cheek, holding your face as if it were made of fine china. “What happened while I was gone, honey?”

His hand was wet on your face, or rather, your face was wet from tears that had started to trickle from your tear ducts. You furrowed your brows in frustration, “Why do you assume that something happened? Nothing happened while you were gone, why can’t you just let that be the answer?”

“Because it’s not the answer,” he insisted, dropping his hand back to your hip, continuing to stop you from getting up and moving away from him.

You scoffed, “Is it not the answer, or is it just not the answer you’re looking for, Spencer?”

“It’s not the answer, and I’m looking for the answer. You can tell me anything,” he urged, resuming his soothing movements over your hip.

As you watched his expression morph into a slight panic, you realized he was beginning to think something happened to you. With what he did for work, it was always in the back of his mind, you being in danger of being hurt by other people but what he rarely considered was the idea of you being a danger to yourself. “Nothing happened, okay? Absolutely nothing happened to me while you were gone and everything in the world stayed exactly the fucking same. I went to work every day and I came home and sat around while I waited for you to call, I waited for you to come home and now you won’t even touch me.”

Your tears kept coming, leaving saline stains on his gray shirt as your head spun and his movements stopped. “Work was bad?” He asked softly, using his fingertips to wipe beneath your eyes. He knew about your issues at work, he had been encouraging you to leave the job for months, but you were convinced that a promotion was coming. “You shouldn't have to be miserable every time you go to work.”

“Not everyone gets to be hand-picked for a top job at twenty-one. Some people have to work shitty jobs to make ends meet,” you snapped at him, nostrils flaring angrily.

He didn’t answer right away, you became hyperaware of the pounding of your heart as you waited for his response. As you waited for him to kick you out. “I told you that I’d support you if you wanted to go back to school. I meant it, Y/N,” he told you, brown eyes flooded with concern. “You can leave your job and pursue your dream, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, baby.” Spencer leaned back against the couch cushions, “I can’t help you until you help yourself, love.”

Slouching your shoulders, you felt your eyes starting to line with tears again, “It feels so unfair to have you shoulder more responsibility so that I can go back to school.”

“No,” he said, “What’s not fair is you lying to me and then trying to avoid it with sex. I asked you how your week had been, and you either didn’t care to answer me or you have such bad tunnel vision that you didn’t even hear me.” He gently chided, giving you time to drown in the blatant concern in his eyes, “and what’s worse is you never told me it was this bad.”

You averted your eyes, focusing your gaze on the chessboard behind him as you thought about your next move. In one fell swoop, he could checkmate you, completely catch you off guard, and tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear. Alternatively, you could sacrifice yourself for his benefit, “I hate my job. My boss is making it impossible for me to make any positive stride, and that’s on top of him being a misogynistic douche.” You flexed your hands where they remained on Spencer’s shoulders and sighed, “And yes, I miss you when you’re gone. Yes, I lied to you about it, but what would you do about it? Leave your big important job because your girlfriend is lonely?”

He craned his head to the side, silently encouraging you to make eye contact with him, “I’d hope that you’d feel comfortable enough to tell me how you’re feeling so that we could work something out – we can talk through this. It’s a two-way street though, you have to talk to me. I can make an effort to call and text more if you promise me, you’ll make an effort to communicate with me.”

Slowly, you started to nod, “I… I can do that, but you hate texting,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows curiously.

“I’ll get over it,” he reassured you, studying your features, “You’re worth it,” he added.

Finally, you pulled your arms back, hugging them around yourself protectively, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “I don’t know why I am… the way that I am.”

Spencer took a deep breath before giving you a look that told you he had an inkling, “You’re unhappy, with me or the world, it doesn’t matter, but you think the solution to your displeasure comes in the form of an orgasm and that’s just not the answer, honey.”

You hiccupped and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself like you could make yourself smaller, “I still don’t know why though.”

“You’re seeking the rush, not necessarily the act of sex itself, you want the dopamine and oxytocin rush that comes with an orgasm. Your brain convinces yourself that it’s what you need because when you get unhappy like this, all you can focus on is how to feel better and fast,” he spoke to you gently – he knew this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was what you needed to hear. “It’s brief, and it’s just for that moment, and your brain might even recall how your parasympathetic nervous system shuts down after you come, and your body gets tired. You get a rush of serotonin, and you relax enough to convince yourself that it'll be okay, but you need to find something more permanent. I’ll help you.”

Your arms fell limply at your sides, “Do you think I’m broken?”

The small smile he gave you was enough of an answer, “No, in fact, I know you’re not broken.” Tenderly, he reached out and unwound your arms from around your torso, “And since I know you won’t stop thinking about it, I do still find you attractive.” Spencer studied your face, “Where do you want to start?”

“Do you want to help me draft a letter of resignation?” You offered, giving Spencer a shy smile.

He hummed in response, “Yeah, in a bit.” Your boyfriend reached his hands out to you, now being the one who pulled you close, “Come here, darling.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing as he wrapped his arms around your torso, “I missed you,” you mumbled, entirely deflating your lungs as you let yourself relax.

Spencer reached up, ruffling your hair with one hand and keeping another on the small of your back as he sighed with you, “I missed you too.”

[moncouerbrise]

Fyodor X Reader with Wings

Smut, Suggestive, Degrading, Angelwings, Teasing, etc.

You've been very useful to Fyodor for the last few months.

Even if it meant having to be apart of his plan, you've shown how truly powerful one with abnormal features can be.

You've gotten close, quite close actually.

Every now and then going from place to place, as Fyodor uses your true potential to its max.

All he wants to do now is just return the favor, he insists. Especially for how good you've been to him.

“Ah~ S-stop!” He teases your clit with his thumb.

Brushing against it, in small circular motions.

Back arching at the sudden touch of his fingers from his free hand, caressing across your skin.

You can feel how cold they are. how cold he is in particular.

His face not even showing the slightest amount of heat trapped in his face, yet still remaining that sly smirk on his face.

The long amount of time its already been, of him just toying with your body so far. Its got you all worked up. “Please- Please F~Fyodor!”

“Hm…?” He comes close to you, facing and looking at you straight in the eye. Amused, he pats your cheek before grabbing it “Use your words darling. Or we'll be here all day.”

“Please, I need it… I need you! Touch me please-.” Your sudden pleads get interrupted once Fyodor decides to flip to you over.

Causing you to let a whimper as you lay flat on the bed, with your ass facing him. “Arms.” He boldy says.

Reaching for both your hands and holding them down in place behind your back.

Not before he finds something to tie them with. Restricting your movements.

He soon begins to align himself with your entrance, feeling the wetness of his tip against your skin.

His voice is heard again, except this time much more quieter, stern, much more darker.

“You've been such a good girl, you deserve all of this”

He slaps your ass, allowing you to arch your back at him before he grabs ahold of your sides, instantly pushing himself in.

“Ah- Mphm”

Biting down your lip, making sure the others that are outside can't hear the lewd noises.

You start to feel Fyodor begin to move. Reciprocating the same actions.

As he buries himself deep in your pussy, not going fast but rather at a normal pace. Really making sure you take all of himself.

Just as he starts to get more ruthless, his thrusts getting more vigorous every second, he lets go of your hips and hair, and instead holds onto your wings.

Shrieking in arousal, as he continues to pump himself in and out of yourself.

His long hands running through your wings, along your spine. Before giving your ass another slap, resulting in thrusting harder down onto him.

“A-Ah… Im-a close-! Fyo-” He grabs ahold of your wings, making you shut up in an instant.

“Do you want the…-others to hear, is that it-?

His voice can be heard more raspy, as he gets closer to his release as well.

And so is yours, you feel the tightening in your chest and stomach start to form a sensation of pure pleasure.

Ecstasy, that's what it felt like once you felt Fyodors seed all over your back and shooting inside your cunt.

Along with yours, causing a squelching noise as he continues to ride his high.

Your left breathless, panting.

In need of air.

You turn yourself over again, this time your stomach facing Fyodor.

Laying your head to the side, catching your breath.

Eyes fluttering and closing slightly.

It all feels too much.

Like It's all been undone.

“What are you doing?” You feel a grab at your ankle, pulling you to the front of the bed.

He looks at you with his violet eyes, pure lust. That's all he had behind those eyes.

“We still have more to go, dear.”

He gets up from his position and goes over to the door, hearing the small ‘click” as he unlocks it.

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, making you look at him.

“Let's try something different this time.” You try to move from his grip but he doesn't budge at all.

“W-wait what-!?”

“Something more risky. Shall we?”

Requested by Anon

[toxicanonymity]

Non con sex pollen fic where Joel and the reader are waken up in a random room together and he recognizes who you are because he used to be friends with ur dad , he starts begging the people who took them to let him out because the reader isn’t the only person that’s ended up in this situation with him, and then there’s smoke that enters the room but it only has an effect on Joel, if you even decide to turn this into anything can you add oral f receiving pls and do the smut however you want! I’ll love it either way <3 IM SO SORRY ITS ALOT

Lazaretto (sex pollen)

2.6k ONE SHOT / joel x afab!reader / master

Part 2 HERE

WARNINGS: non-con, sex pollen, manhandling, oral f receiving, unsafe P in V sex, anal, reader menstruates. poorly edited. Horror elements apparently lol idk how sex pollen is normally written. 18+

You wake up in a heavy-duty four-wall tent with a burly stranger, both of you in hospital gowns.  You were sedated and you're still groggy when a man in a biohazard suit explains you’re being quarantined in a makeshift lazaretto outside the overcrowded army hospital.  Neither of you were bitten in the chaos earlier, but it’s a precaution.  You'll be monitored for 24 hours, treated with an antifungal fog, then monitored for another 24 hours before they release you.  You sign a release about potential side effects which include psychological and sexual disturbances. 

He doesn’t elaborate, but Joel is clearly disturbed as if it’s not his first time.  

“No,” he says.  “No!" He screams, then begs, "Let me out, or let her out, I don’t care.”

“I’m not authorized to let anyone out.”

“Then put me in my own tent!" 

“I’m afraid we’re far past capacity.  Most units have three.” 

“Can you at least tie me up or somethin’?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

"Then get me away from her!" 

You're offended and confused.  The quarantine man leaves.  For a while, neither of you talk except to say some variation of, “this is bullshit.”  Joel seems genuinely distressed.  You have your own problems to worry about.  You’re at the tail end of your period and don’t have any provisions, not even any underwear. You want to check and see if you’re still bleeding, but not with this stranger in the tent. 

You ask him, “What are you so worried about?” 

He starts to say something but stops himself and says, “I’ll tell you later.” 

"What did I do?" You ask and your temples feel weak. 

He recognizes how mean he must have sounded.  "Nothing at all, sugar.  It's me. I had. . . a bad reaction in the past."  

He changes the subject and tells you he recognizes you.  It hits you - Joel Miller - he used to run a smuggling route with your dad.  Life has hardened Joel into a much stronger, more attractive man since then.  He’s not a big talker, but he occasionally indulges your questions about pre-outbreak life.  You start to really enjoy his company.  For a minute at a time, you manage to forget about the scary circumstances. 

-

There’s one old cot and a blanket.  He says you can have them because he won’t be able to sleep anyway.  You’re not comfortable but you manage to fall asleep.  You wake up shivering and ask if he’ll join you.  He hesitantly agrees, then settles in behind you.  You grab his hand and hold it tight.  You’re gushing between the legs.  You expect a nice red spot on both your gowns in the morning, but that should be the least of your worries.

“Do you think we’re okay?” you whisper. 

“Yeah, we’re okay,” he replies softly in your ear. 

You start sniffling.  “I’m scared.” 

He tightens his arm over you. “I know, sugar. You’re gonna be alright. We’re alright.”  You can hear his heart beating faster.  

As you drift off to sleep, it’s impossible not to notice through your gowns when his dick hardens against you.  He backs off a little but you push your ass back into him and tighten your grip on his hand.  His chest swells against your back and you feel him inhale your hair, but he doesn't make a move and neither do you. 

-

When you wake up, he’s lying on his stomach on the floor using his massive bicep as a pillow.  Before he notices you’re awake, you subtly dip your finger into youreslf to check for your period, and it’s not there.  You were just wet.  You sit up and look at the back of your gown.  Nothing.  When he sees you’re awake and sits up, the fear returns to his eyes.   He says, “I reckon the fog will come soon, now.”  There’s no clock, but he senses it.  He moves his jaw side to side anxiously and his eyes dart around the tent. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He opens his mouth several times then stops before he manages to say it.  “Look, if. . . If I do anything after they fog us. . .  it’s not me, okay?"

"Okay. . .do anything like what?" 

"It . . . The fog has an effect on certain people."  He swallows and looks away.  "Like a sexual effect. It can make you . . . Aggressive."

"Oh. . ."

"Listen.  You can fight me off, do whatever you have to do, okay?" 

"Okay."

Your heart beats faster wondering what's in store.  You can’t imagine it’s that bad. 

-

Finally, one side of the tent ripples as a small, circular portal is opened and something clicks into it.  The tent begins to fill with fog.  The fog smells faintly like a thunderstorm and settles toward the ground before it slowly rises.  Joel backs away from it, sitting in the very corner of the tent as it spreads across the floor.  As the fog continues to pour in, he stands up and turns his face toward the ceiling.  But it reaches him. He tries not to breathe it, with his mouth in his gown, but it’s no use. He squats down, facing away from you.  

He swallows.  “I’m sorry.”  His voice is shaky.  He looks back at you one last time apologetically, then pinches his eyes shut and takes deep breaths. The fog valve is shut.  For a few minutes, you can hardly see him. 

-

You hear the sticky footsteps of his bare feet on the floor, then he gets close enough to see him through the fog, just a few feet away from you.  His whole face has darkened.  And it further darkens as he looks at you in a trance.  He wets his lips like you’re something to eat.  His chest rises and falls with heaving breaths.  

Minutes ago, it was hard to imagine being afraid of him,  but he’s a whole different man now.   You get up from the cot,  walk backwards to the opposite side of the tent, and sit in the corner. 

He crosses the tent in two long, swift strides.  As he looms over you, it’s impossible to ignore the massive tent in his gown or his muscular thighs. 

“Get up,” he demands through the fading fog.  You look down and stay where you are, pulling your gown over your knees, shrinking into yourself.  

“GET UP NOW!” he yells with his mouth wide open, face red, hair bouncing.  

You still don’t.  

"I’m sorry,” he says, then darkens again.  “But you're askin' for it.”  He squats down and gently cups your face.  “Get up.”

You don’t. “You don’t want to do this.”  A last ditch effort:  “I have my period!”   But it only makes him more feral.  You see it in his face right after you say it. 

-

Joel grabs you roughly by both elbows and manhandles you to your feet, then pushes you over to the cot.   He tears your gown off and throws you down on the cot face-up.  He scans you head to toe.  You futilely try to cover yourself with your arms and hands.  You’d feel even more naked without the fog though, which still hangs in the air.  You start to sit up and he forces you back down, pinning you with an arm across your chest.  "Starving,” he growls in your ear, giving you butterflies.  He grabs your hand off your pussy then shoves his own between your legs and the butterflies swarm to your core.  You try and fail to keep your legs shut tight but the pressure of your thighs around his hand feels far too good between your legs.

“Joel, stop,” you plead. “You’re not yourself.”  You beg him to stop, but you're getting wetter by the minute.  His intensity turns you on. 

“No use, darlin’.”  He inserts his middle finger and breathes heavily.  “Nothin’s stoppin’ this." 

You still try, though.  You thrash and kick, then he grabs you by the arms so hard his fingers dig deep into your muscles, practically to the bone. “Sit still, damnit.”  He softens only for a moment.  “Don't wanna have to hurt you.” Then he darkens again.

Your face gets  cold and you swallow.  He kneels at the foot of the cot and uses your thighs to violently yank you toward him so your ass is at the end.  He pries your legs open and holds them that way with his massive hands.  His mouth latches onto your pussy and you’re flooded with a rush of arousal as the hook of his nose begins to massage your clit.  He really digs in, pressing his lips hard into you, thrusting his tongue inside you.  A ball of tension gathers in your traitorous core and you twitch.  

He’s grunting “Mm” as he sucks and laps.  You squirm and he forces you still again and continues, ravenous to consume you.  He looks up with black eyes, and the animal between your legs terrifies you.  He intensifies his eating and you feel it coming.  The next time he thrusts his tongue inside you, his nose drags up your clit.  You moan and your spine arches as you see stars. He stops and watches you unravel with his head still firmly planted between your legs.  Your eyes water with your pulsations as you stare up at the ceiling of the tent. He lifts his head and a lighter patch of his beard is just barely tinged with your period.  He dug it out of you.  He inserts his fingers and you clench around him with the aftershocks.  You close your eyes and catch your breath.

-

He must stand up, because before you know it, you feel his tip at your entrance.   Your body wants him inside you. You could make it easy on him, but you don’t want him to fuck you and regret it.  It’s not just your body – you’re realizing you want him, too.  You may be getting ahead of yourself, but it’s the product of a near-death experience, of being sealed in a tent with him for 24 hours, and of getting head within an inch of your life. The perfect storm. If you’re going to have him, it has to be under different circumstances or he may never want to do it again.

He begins to push in. 

“Joel, no!” You squirm and thrash.  

He sighs.  “You're just gonna tucker yourself out like that.” 

You still give it your best try, but he’s right.   You’re no match for his strength. He overpowers you, pins you down with his weight, then shoves his thick cock into you with a grunt.  Your wet little hole can hardly take him.  You yelp as his unforgiving girth splits you open and fills you up.  When his length retreats, you try to push him off, but you can’t.  “You’re takin' it one way or another, darlin’.” 

He bottoms out with a guttural roar like he’s charging into battle. He pounds you brutally, slamming to the hilt each time.  It hurts but it isn’t long before it starts to feel okay, then good, and then, the delicious stretch of his girth feels like something you never knew you needed.  After a minute or two, you stop squirming and thrashing. It's happening, and you might as well enjoy it. 

When you stop fighting, he takes his weight off you and stands at the foot of the cot, your thighs in his hands, pulling you back on his dick as his hips snap into you. His hair is messy and his face and neck are splotched red.  His big arms bulge out from under the gown.  You’ve never seen such intensity on anyone’s face before.  

After a few minutes of him pistoning into you, you feel another climax building.  You whimper and he rails you even harder, sweating, grunting, growling.  When you come, it’s a burst unlike anything you've ever felt. You hear yourself wailing as he fucks you through it.  Your walls are still contracting around his cock when he grabs onto your hips for dear life and plunges into you with more force than ever.  

You realize he’s going to come inside and yell, “No!”  You try to get away.  You try to fight back, but he’s too strong and determined.  Rage falls across his face.  A groan rips out of his throat as his cock erupts into you, pulsing massively, extending your climax longer than you thought possible.  It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before.  

Your whole body is spent.  When he’s finished coming, he slides out of you and you lie there limp with your eyes closed. It’s quiet for a minute. The fog has settled more. 

He groans softly. Then, "I'm sorry. . ."  You open your eyes and sit up. You reach for him  at the foot of the cot, but he backs away.  It seems like he can't look at you. His eyes are tearful.  

"It's okay.  Look at me, Joel. It's okay."

It's quiet for a minute.

-

"God damnit,” he whispers. He covers himself and when your eyes follow his hand, it’s clear he’s hard again or it never went away.   The fog has faded enough that it seems he at least has the wherewithal to jack off instead.  "Close your eyes," he says as he turns away and wraps his hand around his cock.  You study his eyes and they’re dark, but not as dark as they were. You lie down with your eyes shut and listen to his breath and the squish of his hand around his cock, wet with your slick.

The  rhythmic squish gets closer and closer.   You open your eyes to the darkest look on his face.  He’s standing there at the foot of the cot, gown pushed up out of the way again as he strokes his stiff, imposing cock. 

“Flip over,” he demands but gives you no time to comply.  He grabs you under the arms.

“Okay, okay,” you comply and he forces you down on your stomach.  

He wedges the tip of his cock between your cheeks, aligning himself at your asshole.  You’re terrified.  You beg, "no, wait," but he's not there anymore.  It's not really him. 

He plunges into your tight, virgin hole and you yelp in shock. His hands on your hips lift your ass in the air and you bury your head in your arm, biting your own skin as he yanks you back into him, making your ass flush with his pelvis.  You’re stuffed full of him, fuller than you’ve ever felt, even fuller than when he was in your pussy.  

He pummels you with abandon and your eyes well up in tears.  You're mortified, you've never done this before, and you have so many fears – is he going to ruin you?  Is there going to be a mess?  But each time he buries his length in your ass, it feels better and your fears fade into pleasure. The longer he pounds you, the better it feels.  It feels surprisingly good, much better than you ever thought it would.  The tent seems to echo with his grunts and the slap of skin.  

Another orgasm is brewing as he pounds your guts.  It builds faster this time.  He grunts louder, then your whole body is seized by the deepest, most powerful climax.  You whimper, then your whimper turns into a groan as your ass spasms and your pussy clenches around nothing.  

And then he pulses inside you, filling up another hole.  By the time he's through with you, you're filled to the brim with him.  He slides out and you turn around. 

He stumbles backwards in horror at what he's done. 

“I’m sorry, sugar.  I’m so sorry."

-

Part 2 HERE

Thank you for reading and engaging! Might wanna follow me if you like this because my posts are getting reported and might not show up in the tags.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"my favorite set of stairs is the one up to Your Room"

"let's tangle our legs again, the world doesn't need us to leave our heads. let's tie our breath in knots again, nothing's complicated if we pretend."

synopsis// a normal morning for you and megumi.

pairing// megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

word count// 812

contents// just pure fluff ! also not explicitly specified but you both are adults :)

requested// by an anon!

notes// i don't usually post oneshots mid smau buttt im making an exception bc this is rlly short and fluffy ! anywho this was also inspired by 11:11 by waterparks!! i was gonna use deep red by movements as inspiration but i think 11:11 fit more sigh... dw movements... you'll get ur time to shine eventually...

You blink the sleep away as you take in your surroundings, realizing you're on Megumi’s chest with your hand draped over his waist and your legs tangled together. You yawn, softly rubbing your face against his chest as if trying to get any bit closer to him, and when his heartbeat drumming in your ear starts to sound like a lullaby, you know it's time to get up. So you do.

Kinda.

Your version of getting up right now consists of lazily lifting your head up to stare at Megumi, who’s still fast asleep. His eyelashes brush up against his flushed cheeks—you can't help but reach your hand up to caress his face, and who can blame you? When he’s asleep like this, looking so at peace, it’s almost as if he's begging you to hold his face in your hands, and when you do, it’s like you have the whole world sitting right there in your palm. and as if he can feel you touching him even in his sleep, he smiles, and you find yourself falling in love with him all over again.

The scene before you is just serene, and yeah, maybe you wake up to this every morning, but it never grows old. In fact, it just gets better with time, and you’re over the moon to have all the time in the world with Megumi. ...Except for right now, because you really should be getting up and getting ready for work. You drop your head against his chest and take a deep breath, silently wishing time would just pause so you could stay here, but alas, it does not.

You lift your head again and litter a series of small kisses against his jaw, soft enough that they shouldn’t have woken him, yet he stirs awake, as if you’ve effectively pavlov’d the poor boy to associate that small, soft feeling with you leaving. Megumi wraps his arms around you tightly, holding you in place. You honestly have no idea how he has this much strength when he’s literally half asleep, but you embrace it—his hold on you is as calming as a weighted blanket.

He tucks your head beneath his chin and slurs, “Don’t go.”

You hum and tuck your head further into his neck, placing chaste kisses against him, reveling in how he shivers. "I have to.”

"No, you don't.” 

You laugh softly as you pick your head back up to look at him, his eyes half-lidded, looking like he could fall back asleep any second now.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs sheepishly, collapsing under the weight of your gaze.

"Don't I always?”

He lazily lifts his head to kiss you, but his coordination is horrible due to the fact that his brain isn't even entirely awake right now, so his kiss lands more on the side of your mouth than fully on it. He groans at his failed attempt.

“Kiss me.”

"Yes, your majesty,” you tease.

You ignore Megumi's sleepy glare, instead leaning down and softly pressing your lips against his. You do this a few times, feeling Megumi smile into the kiss, yet it’s all onesided, and you pull away with a huff.

“Why am I gonna kiss you if you’re too lazy to kiss back?”

“Because you love me?”

"Sure, whatever,” you mumble, pressing your hands against his chest to push yourself off of him, but he doesn't give you that chance, instead grabbing you by your wrists to prevent you from getting up any further. "Megumi, I need to go to work.”

He doesn't say anything; instead, he opens his eyes—still lidded, but now he doesn’t look sleepy; now he just looks like he's giving you puppy eyes… Because he is, and he’s evil because he knows your conviction crumbles right then and there at the sight of them.

"Don't look at me like that,” you say, turning your head away from him.

Megumi doesn’t accept that and releases one of your wrists to grab your jaw, forcing you to face him. “Like what?”

“You know what.” 

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Stay? Please?”

You sigh and drop your forehead against his, mumbling, "Megumi, I have to go to work.”

You hear him tut before pushing you off of him and rolling onto his side, his back facing you, as he bitterly mumbles, “Whatever.”

You roll your eyes, yet a fond smile adorns your face. “You’re such a big baby.”

“Go to work; leave me alone.”

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You quickly hop off the bed and get ready for work, not leaving without littering a few more kisses on Megumi’s face, who’s already sound asleep once more. You’d be more sad about leaving him if you didn’t already know that tomorrow morning would play out exactly like this again and the next. And the morning after that. And after that—and probably forever after that.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[daddyhausen]

｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY SEVEN : STRIP CLUB 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡

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「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 KINKTOBER 2023/2024 」

「 COMMISSIONS INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」

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「 SUMMARY 」 — a lap dance isn’t the only thing you give to him

「 WARNINGS 」 — smut, 18 +, [ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ] age gap [ 25 years ], power dynamic, mentions of sex work, mentions of cheating

「 TAGS 」 — [ stripper!reader ], [ boss!christian ] [ age gap relationship ] [ workplace sex ] [ striptease ] [ rough ] [ riding ] [ hair pulling ] [ cheating ] [ unprotected sex ] [ vaginal sex ] [ male + female orgasm ] [ squirting ] [ internal cumshot ] [ vaginal creampie ]

「 WORD COUNT 」 — 594

「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x christian cage

「 GENRE 」 — smut

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「 TAGLIST 」 — @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @mjfass @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @janetreader @bonehead-playz @legit9thlunaticwarrior @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @harmshake @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @selena-tyler-564 @nev-danielgarciawife @teenagedramaqueenlisa

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「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」

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the rope of your robe fastened tightly around your waist

rosy pink silk hugging your figure

skin still slick and warm, damp with a mixture of baby oil and sweat leaving your flesh with an almost angelic glow as you stepped down from the stage

dollar bills secured in your garter, some even slipped into the lace panties that adorned your hips

you caught his gaze from across the hall, a silent tilt of his head ever so inviting

you follow, obviously it wasn’t uncommon for you the two of you to be alone in his office for… business reasons

he sits at his desk, almost expectantly. his eyes never leaving your figure even before you disrobe.

he motions you towards him with a finger, your feet with a mind of their own paces towards him in slow deliberate steps

hips swaying seductively, alluringly, allowing his eyes to follow and linger.

you stop in front of him, just off to the left side of him.

calloused fingertips reach up, tugging lightly at the silk tie of your robe until the knot frees itself, only leaving you bare with the exception of the matching pink lingerie just barely covering your most intimate areas

sure he was older and well…your boss but that didn’t seem to hinder your resposnsiveness

the was just one catch…you are married

not that that relationship ever held any substance. your husband, despite his abundance in wealth left you unfulfilled lled in many aspects

and when christian found out he was sure you’d never go without a good fucking ever again.

the robe collects at your feet and he eyes you with wicked intent

“you know what to do”

his words although velvety and seductive were laced with an aura of sefistication

maybe that’s just his age

you smile down at him hips swaying no a non-existent rhythm, fingertips reaching for your bra strap, unbuckling the silky material

your breasts now revealed you him and he leers at you, eyes fixated on the swell of your breast and you swear you see his pupils dialate

“you like that?” you smirk sitting on his lap

“you know i do angel” his voice croons so dangerously through your ears

his cock straining against his dress pants prodding against your clothed cunt

“that husband of yours doesn’t know what he’s missing out on”

he doesn’t go in to kiss you, instead his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and nipping at the pebbled bud

you moan at the sensation, biting your bottom lip

his hands instinctively reaching down to unbuckle his belt

his hard cock throbbing in his palm

without asking you lifted your hips up, allowing him to slide your panties to the side

his cock filling you up to the brim, slick cunt gripping him tightly

“fuck…” you groan, sinking deeper onto him, your hips absentmindedly swirling with such wonderful movements

you bounce on him, letting his cock fill and fuck you so deliciously

god only knows what would happen if someone were to find you

his fingers entangle in your hair, pulling from the roots

“you belong to me, angel. how you gonna explain to you pathetic husband why you’re full of my cum”

your body so overstimulated by the force of his thrusts that you could not help but spill over, gushing around his length coming completely undone

he continues to move, thrusting up into you with vicious thrusts until he’s leaking, hot, frothy cum deep into your void

”fuck…” he pants

“now that’s why i pay you the most, angel”

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[fandomfluffandfuck]

that last ask is going to plague my brain for the next week, now im thinking of bodyguard!chris and seb, specifically bodyguard!chris making him wear a vibe during an important event (seb was okay with it, honestly he probably begged lmao), and seb not being able to do much except sit there and glance over to Chris, who’s just sitting next to him, enjoying the small whimpers that hes so desperately trying to conceal, loving to see him squirm <3

related to this

THERE ARE SO MANY THOUGHTS.

Bodyguard 👏🏻 Chris 👏🏻 and 👏🏻 Client 👏🏻 Sebastian 👏🏻

Short, haphazard list of thoughts under the cut because I can't fucking resist. Also, there's a short stint about guns, all hypothetical, though, just in Seb's imagination, nothing violent

Sebastian wearing a vibrating plug to an important event--having cameras flash all in his face, the shutters of the hungry cameras and shouting of his name from fervent fans and starstruck photographers alike, Seb just a sweet, lonely seal pup in shark infested waters--and slowly getting pinker and pinker with the blush staining high on his pretty cheekbones and across the bridge of his nose.

Chris is there to catch him when they're walking off the red carpet and into the premiere, Sebastian stumbling on fawn-weak legs with the vibrations getting so deep inside him, hitting him right where it counts, against his swollen, sensitive prostate, and making him crumble. All he can do is weakly cling to Chris, letting himself sway into the lapel of his suit jacket just to be against his big, solid chest and whimper, his watering mouth brushing the soft fabric, desperate to bury himself in his bodyguard's chest hair and suckle at his sharp collarbone just to have something to sate his oral fixation.

He's not going to survive this.

He knows there will be photos of him blushing with his mouth just slightly open and his eyes glassy after this, but... he can't find it in himself to care about what that does to his publicity when Chris' big, warm hands are propping him up, smoothing the wrinkles out of his suit, sweeping down his shoulders, and adjusting his tie.

Speaking of holding him up like a master behind a puppet...

Chris' hands are always all over him.

Chris will adjust his cufflinks for him, straying from the job for just long enough to encircle his wrists with his long, thick fingers, reminiscent of the padded leather cuffs Chris used on him just hours ago. Underneath his suit, the bruises are still forming. Just one squeeze, and Sebastian is weak at the knees, a dreamy gasp falling off his glistening bottom lip.

Chris will fix his tie, tugging on it just enough when they're alone in a room to bring their lips together, brushing teasingly, hot and humid, taking chest-fulls of shared breath. Sebastian needs a minute to clear his head after, before they go out there, if Chris didn't know so well just what he needs and what's too much or not enough, he could spiral from just that. Their lips brush, Sebastian's head tilting and leaning back, arching and begging wordlessly for more with just the curve of his neck and heavy drop of his eyelids.

Chris will guide him through doors, into the backs of cars, and push him through crowds with a heavy hand at the small of his back. The security of having him right there, just a step behind him, broad and imposing, all body-heat and confience-oozing swagger, leaves Sebastian struggling to look forward when he's moving. He just wants to twist around and see Chris. He wants to watch him. But, more than anything, he wants to be good. So. He'll go wherever his bodyguard directs him, moving him, directing him, manhandling him. God. It makes him shiver.

Chris doesn't carry a weapon with him, mostly because Sebastian requested he refrain when he hired Chris in the first place, but after meeting Chris--after getting to know him? And knowing him intimately? Sebastian kind of wishes that he had requested he did. He's not afraid of fans; there's no reason he would expect Chris to use a firearm or weapon, so it would just be for intimidation or peace of paranoid mind. Yet...

Sebastian has moments.

Flashes of bright, hot heat where he thinks about it. He knows Chris is licensed to conceal carry. He's a minted bodyguard. So, it's almost a given.

He sees it across the backs of his eyelids in varying, colorful scenarios that shouldn't, but do, turn him on--Chris lifting his arms when reaching for Seb's bag, getting off of a flight, grabbing Seb's arm to steady him as he gets out of a car, raising his arms to plow through a crowd, or even nonchalantly stretching and lifting a hand to his yawning mouth to show off to someone threatening that he has a gun. Just a flash. A tiny little, heart-pounding glimpse of that power.

Seb's mind flits between fantasies...

Oh, god.

Sometimes, the firearm is rested safely in a holster on his belt, wrapped as tight as Sebastian aches to be around his waist, and other times, the gun is tucked into his waistband, no holster, just shoved in, obscenely bulging his slacks. Seb can't decide if he likes the mental image of Chris tucking a gun into his waistband at the front or back. Chris is fucking packing heat already--he makes Seb's brain melt out of his ears with his cock, long and thick and so fucking teeth-rattling good--and Seb wouldn't be able to survive more but then...

That ass.

Seeing a gun tucked into his waistband just above that fucking fat ass that drives him insane already would be, guh. Seb, yeah, Seb would not be able to survive it. He's weak for Chris.

Chris doesn't need a weapon, though.

Chris is already sharp enough without it. His mind. His model-face allows him to get away with anything, leaving everyone, including Sebastian, in a puddle. His eyes cut through crowds, ocean waves that harden into a dark, deep blue Seb would do anything for. His mouth can talk him out of anything, charming and plush, inspiring the most perverse kind of obedience from whoever he speaks to. His body, shoulders and pecs and biceps and hands and thick abs and ass and thighs and all, every fucking inch of it, is built for power and dominance. His wardrobe is classic and he's always dressed to kill. He's too much. Sebastian still can't believe he's ever gotten into such a fucking incredible, unprofessional relationship with him. He's too much.

He's so distracting, keeping Seb perfectly safe--his protector, big and strong--that it leaves him feeling like swooning. Chris makes him into a needy, desperate, delicate little thing. And Chris doesn't mind one fucking bit. There's a reason he got into this business. He likes control and order and protecting those he cares about. As much as he hits Seb's buttons, Seb's long-legged, clumsy-eager aching to be good for him hits Chris' own buttons.

And for as ruined as some event photos are by their filthy shenanigans showing all over sweet Sebastian's pretty face, part of what Chris is protecting for Sebastian is his reputation and image, not just his body.

Bodyguards of the rich and famous aren't just for physical support. They're for making sure that everything runs smoothly, too. Emotional protection, if you will. Illustratively, bodyguards block photos taken by paparazzi at inopportune moments, whether that be sliding into a car in a short skirt and getting in the way of cameras so nothing gets captured that shouldn't, flashing everyone, or...

The laces of Sebastian's shoes come undone as he's walking from the hotel to his photo op. He stops to take pictures and say hello to fans, and without him noticing, one of his shoes comes undone. To save face, preventing Sebastian from falling and embarrassing himself, therefore bruising an ethereal image, Chris does the obvious. The obvious to him. Not to Sebastian. Chris takes a knee to tie his shoe for him.

Any thought Sebastian was having, any thread of conversation he was having with a fan, anything at all that was happening in that pretty head of his is completely eclipsed by the sheer wave of desire that crashes violently into him as a result of Chris' action. It feels too intimate for public.

Oh.

Sebastian's voice cracks in the middle of whatever the fuck, unimportant thing he was saying, lost to staring down at Chris tying his shoe for him; doing it up in a perfect bow, double-knotted, and patting the side of the smooth leather in what could be looked at as friendly, or, face-burningly, could (and does) remind Sebastian of how when they're alone, sharing hotel rooms or stealing a weekend in Seb's apartment alone, and Chris pats his ass. It's bluntly possessive. Of course, he's going to pat or slap or hit that ass. It's his ass. He owns it. He can do anything he wants to it. It's his. It's his, so, naturally, he's going to look after it closely. Sebastian is his. Chris looks after him, so well.

Seb can hardly hold in his moan, looking down dizzily at Chris before him, on his knees in front of him and... everyone.

gif by @/lawyerupasshole

Thank you for the excuse to fucking Lose It about this AU, haha

[patchdotexe]

chapter 19! mom holy fuck

my thoughts are a lot more scattered bc i jumped straight into playing pmd when i woke up, so i kinda plowed through 17 and 18 back-to-back and spent way too long trying to unfuck my storage because i am a hoarder

i still think i shouldve been allowed to try and DS the relic fragment. wait is that why its called that. anyway. HOWEVER the whole brine cave adventure was pretty fun, especially as a water-type meaning i could just grab stuff. however for the love of god PLEASE LET ME TAKE CONNIE AND SION WITH ME. PLEASE. I MISS THEM. IM 10 LEVELS ABOVE THEM LET THEM COME WITH ME

as much as i hate team skull though i do begrudgingly accept that theyre being fleshed out a little more besides just being bullies. but also please, please let me have a bossfight against them. please. itll be good for my health. and bad for theirs

speaking of bossfights, Archer learned discharge so i got to do the fun tactic of "disable all moves except the one that's a super-effective aoe" and let him save the day. genuinely Archer keeps being mvp in bosses, i love him so much. its a fun tie-in to his character development as well bc hes gone from "bully-able weakling" to "being the one taking down enemies while Zeta does item stuff".

i still want to pluck Chatot. he's getting better but i am still so, so tired of him. but like at least hes trying and theres more of an indication of why Wigglytuff puts so much faith in him. it just sucks that we only get to see him actually Do Something this late in the game.

anyway OFF TO THE HIDDEN LAND! POG

[overtake]

Not to be weird but I feel like I got zapped when I read your hockey snippet, how didn't I know that this existed? It's literally been living my brain for hours and I've not been able to stop re-reading it since 🙃 clearly you can take the girl out of toronto but you can't take toronto out the girl because im a changed person now. No pressure ofc I mean this in non-prodding way but praying and willing you to put your snippets together. If you never come around to it then I'm glad (and changed) for what you've shared with world regardless 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is SO sweet 🥹 I love you so much. Just for this, please have a bit more hockey au. There's a tiny snippet after a media bit (Surprise, this fic is multi-media! Writing the social media parts has been my fave part of the entire process)

@.MapleLeafs on TikTok: | December 12, 2023

[Players walk by a whiteboard on their way into the practice rink. They're stopped to answer the question written on it as they enter. The caption written over their heads reads: "Who don’t your Leafs want to sit next to on a flight?"]

ALEX ALBON: Easy one. Esteban Ocon. He’ll bite your head off if you make a single noise. I think he’d get mad if the plane was going down and you tried to warn him. LOGAN SARGEANT: Gasly or Ocon. I don’t know if it’s a French thing, but they both get really annoyed if you talk to them on a plane. PIERRE GASLY: Danny Ric. He is the loudest person I’ve ever met in my life. ESTEBAN OCON: Daniel Ricciardo. Sorry, Daniel. DANIEL RICCIARDO: Gasly. Max and I were just having a conversation and he rose up behind us and nearly bit our heads off for laughing. I don’t know why he keeps sitting near us. MAX VERSTAPPEN: I don’t really mind sitting next to anyone. I usually sit next to Daniel, and we have a good time. He keeps movies downloaded for us. They're often not very good, but that's sometimes more fun, you know? YUKI TSUNODA: Daniel. VALTERRI BOTTAS: Daniel Ricciardo. ZHOU GUANYU: Daniel. He is very nice and fun, but sometimes you just want to relax on a flight. MARCUS ERICCSON: Surely everyone except Max picked Daniel, right? FERNANDO ALONSO: I don’t want to sit next to anyone.

Mara (DR’s Reputation Era) @.mv33fan: Fernando Alonso: I hate this entire team The entire team: We hate Daniel and the French Max and Daniel: Ask again later. Our mouths are occupied with each other’s dicks.

________

Theoretically, Daniel knew that his and Max's pre-game ritual could end up on the broadcast. Butt taps and silly handshakes in the tunnel inevitably end up on team Instagram stories even if they don't air on TV. It was to be expected, particularly on a Saturday night game against Ottawa.

Still, he didn’t exactly expect a whole montage. It's a nice little package, to be fair. It shows him and Max laughing next to each other in the tunnels and locker rooms before games, followed by their fingers interlocking in their usual drawn-out high five. Daniel prefers to fist bump the whole team and exit only before the goalies, but his routine with Max is always a bit of a production that holds up the line. It's only a surprise it hasn't been uploaded sooner.

After a game where Max scored two goals and Daniel threw his body in front of a rogue deflection and stopped the Sens from a late-third tie, the media naturally focuses on the montage. God forbid they talk about actual fucking hockey in the hockey interview.

“We call it tangled love,” he tells reporters in the press scrum after the game. “In honour of our artistic collision last game.”

It wasn’t a real collision. They’d just got tangled up together when things got chippy by the net. Their skates had collided and they'd taken each other out while trying to defend Esteban from some Habs players. It was all over social media, though, and Daniel knew they’d end up in some embarrassing NHL moments compilation.

They’d both laid on the ice, a little stunned and a lot stupid, before Daniel let out a giant laugh and broke the tension. Max had risen to his feet and tried to pull up Daniel, only for them both to fall right back down as if this was the first time they'd ever skated.

They’d actually been doing this little handshake all season, but reporters were always happy for a soundbite to latch onto and a joke they’d never let go. There's not much to work with in this league in the way of on-camera personality, so it’d probably be a story for the next week. The go-karting clips of the two of them were so popular than even Max mentioned he’d seen them on Reels, and he’d carefully curated his feed to show him anything but Leafs content.

Daniel can’t explain it, this warmth that makes him feel like he’s glowing from inside out all the time since the season started, but he knows he feels it most when he sees people write his name alongside Max’s like their togetherness is a given.

[lfghughes]

gentleman jack him being nominated for some team award or fancy gala and taking his girlfriend. He in a suit, she in a long dress, limousine, champagne, red carpet; He's in love with every move she makes and she's bursting with pride.

a/n: this is me calling the win now for lady byng and you can all hate me if im wrong

Being in front of the camera wasn’t exactly something you dreamed of but every once in a while you just had to put your big girl pants on and do it. You knew Jack didn’t really like it either. It was one thing playing hockey in front of thousands a people every other night but putting on a suit and go to a big fancy event was a little bit of a sacrifice for the two of you when you preferred staying in or something much more casual.

You finished getting ready and you had to admit you did love the long dress you had on and okay maybe it did feel good to dress up a little for one night. Walking out of your bedroom and into the living room you saw Jack struggling with his tie. “Here let me help.” You told him as you walked up to him but his eyes go wide when he saw you. “What? What’s wrong?” He quickly shook his head at your question.

“Nothing you just look stunning.” He told you as his eyes grazed over your whole dress. Something about the way his eyes traveled all along your body made you feel like you were on fire. You snapped out of your thoughts as you went over, helping him finish his tie. “So..You think you’re still going to win that award even after your little ‘not fight’ with Aho?” You teased him, a little smirk on your lips as you used his own words against him.

“I really hope not simply because I don’t want to give a speech. Wait do you think I have to give a speech?” Clearly he had not paid much attention to any of the details of this and you hoped there was some kind of speech process just to hear what he would come up with on the spot. Once you both were done getting ready you met up with Nico who would be riding with you guys and a few other friends of Jacks that were also going to the award in a limo.

This was probably one of the fanciest things you had done, between the limo and the champagne. Both you and Jack lived a pretty simple and casual life even though you knew he had the ability to be doing this every night if he wanted to. Luckily he was much more low key about it. That didn’t really help either of you when it came time to the red carpet, you had felt awkward the minute you stepped out of the limo but quickly found your groove once Jacks hand went to your back, a reassuring movement on his part.

Once inside it was definitely a lot better without all the cameras flashing and there were plenty of familiar faces to talk to. When it came time to announce the winners of the awards you couldn’t help but look at Jack and when you heard his name get called you would have thought he had been prepared for this with the way he had calmly got up from his seat and leaned over to give you a quick kiss before heading on up.

During his speech you watched him with such pride of all the work he had done to get here. You also counted all the uhh’s he said just to tease him about later. “Uhh, yeah. So it’s great getting this award I mean I try to be as gentlemanly as possibly…with the exception of one time.” He smirked slightly as the crowd chuckled. With that the night came to an end and as much as you did end up having you were definitely happy to get home and into comfier clothes. As soon as you walked into the door your hand flew to your zipper and Jack went to help you “Let me be gentlemanly and help you out of this dress, huh?”

[pwnyta]

Now that the battle has officially ended in BNHA...

Its AWARD SEASON TIME.

The award for MOST RUSHED CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT goes to...

BAKUGO

...I mean whatever Hori... at this point I guess I should just be happy hes not an insufferable douche now...

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

The award for MOST FUCKED UP MESSAGE goes to...

TOGA

Girl what...

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

Award for ...really he died in the end anyways? After all that??? goes to-

Shigaraki!

...Seriously... wat?

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

Award for MOST ANTI-CLIMACTIC REVEAL AND PAYOFF goes to... HOLY SHIT ITS A TIE!

BUT BOTH AWARDS STILL GO TO...

Deku!

For seeing Bakugos ''death'' AND 'Holy shit your arms really did get chopped the fuck off thats craz- oop theyre already back!'

--------

Award for OKAY HORIKOSHI WE GET IT YOU CAN DRAW HANDS HOLY SHIT THEYRE SO WELL DRAWN AND DYNAMIC NOBODY IS JEALOUS STOP IT JESUS CHRIST HORIKOSHI STOP award goes to...

HORIKOSHI!!

Holy shit that mother fucker can draw hands... if only he could draw out a plot point half as good....

------

Award for Literally we wasted so much fucking time on you and for what goes to...

ITS ANOTHER TIE!~!

SHINSO AND HAWKS!!!

Seriously what the fuck...

(I guess I didnt get a panel for Hawks while I was clipping panels... LMAO Hawks.)

------

Award for HOLY SHIT TOKOYAMI!!! goes to...

TOKOYAMI!!!!

HOLY SHIT!!

-----

Award for MOST SURPRISING HOMIE IN ALL OF SHONEN HISTORY (maybe) goes to...

GRAPE BOI.

...??? I mean hes kind of a king for this NGl.... '...just dont take Dark Shadow from Tokoyami!'

--------

Award for MOST CONSISTENT HOMIE goes to....

ITS ANOTHER TIE!!

IIDA AND SHOUJI!!!

They really are THE BOYS. Theres no force in the world that could stop them from being homies!

-----

The award for ...HORI WTF DID YOU MEAN BY THAT??? goes to....

OH SHIT ANOTHER TIE!!

Lock getting told he wouldnt understand what its like being discriminated against and the Todoroki family without Shoto panel!!

....Hori what did you mean by this? Its such a bad look Hori?

-----

Award for AYYYYE MY BOY GUNHEAD goes to

GUNHEAD!!

There he is!!! MY BOY! LOVE YOU BUD!

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Award for IDKY your hear but im so proud of you! goes to....

JIRO!!

Girl why are you here at this point... everyone else has a connection to each other... except you? Whatever Im just happy to see you girl. I did a hear pun cuz ears....

-----

Award for MOST UNSTOPPABLE BITCH goes to...

MIRKO!

Seriously you could cleave this bitchs skull from her shoulders and she'd find a way to headbutt her opponent...

----

Thats the end of part 1 of BNHA AWARDS!!! Feel free to send your own awards (make sure you give me a chapter number example) in my ask box and I'll keep going (nobody will) but we'll be back for ROUND 2 in a moment!!

[actualbird]

WAIT I WAS SPAMMING MARIUS TO INTERACT WITH HIM IN VISIT FOR FUN AND HE SAID “my brother used to buy me clothes. he had a better sense of fashion than me” (or something v similar to this, I got the intimacy level up screen half way through) and I’m like AGH the angst, he even took marius on shopping trips 😭 😭 😭 maybe marius buys clothes based on what giann would pick 😭

WAHHHH yes thats one of my favorite lines from his regular interactions!!! i love how it gives a glimpse of marius and giann's relationship, even if it's a very mundane detail. theres two things i wanna say about this though

1 ) while the line seems to be nostalgic in a way, i also like the implication/thematic tie in that marius growing out of his brother's shadow (even if the circumstances that Led to this happening are less than ideal)

like, theres several stories that show that other people saw marius as lesser or as somebody simply in his brother's shadow and not a person himself. but among marius' key story themes methinks is individuality and carving out his own identity for himself and expressing that identity while bound to a world that is so strict about how he "must" present himself

(sidenote: this is an incredibly queercoded theme to me and i mean that genuinely! the radical decision to be himself against all the "norms" of what the society surrounding him wants him to be!)

(sidenote 2: marius actually shares this theme with vyn a LOT. royal expectations and high class expectations. except that vyn made the radical decision to leave, which is in itself still a valid and worthwhile expression of his individuality. also vyn chose a new name for himself that is so lgbt of him)

so yeah, while giann was the one taking care of marius' clothes (and thus, in a way, marius' image) (though this doesnt strike me as a bad thing, more just in an overbearing protective caring older brother sense) (i hc giann has a lot of guilt in failing marius during their childhoods so he overcompensated in a lot of ways and maybe one of the ways was HEY MARIUS LET'S GO SHOPPING)—SORRY IM GETTING OFF TOPIC. anyway while giann was the one buying clothes in the beginning, that obviously is no longer the case now. so much like the other spheres of marius' life, he needs to employ his individuality in this smaller mundane way as well.

so while i think marius does, every once in a while, buy some clothes because it was what giann would pick, i think he does this out of nostalgia and out of how much he misses giann. not because the image giann had helped him make is one he necessarily fully and only ascribes to. i think marius by and large chooses his own clothes based on his own tastes and identity that he has now made for himself

and i think hes done a pretty good job! marius' outfits are AWESOME. quick shoutouts to my favorite outfits of his:

(sidenote 3: i know that last one, the pink denim jacket one, had POLARIZED audiences but sue me i personally love it jHVKJHSDF i think it is so fun and so campy and pink suits him well)

ANYHOO the second thing i wanna bring up is

2 ) IM SO CURIOUS AS TO WHAT GIANN'S FASHION SENSE IS

i know many many of us have seen giann's sprite already from the cn server bday 3 card of marius, but that sprite showed him in a very formal outfit. i wanna know what his casual day to day fashion sense is like. is it soft cardigans core? something more streetwear? dark academia? JVSKFJHDVFS

i personally think his fashion sense would be in a perpetual state of smart casual. i have no basis for this, this is just me going off of vibes.

thanks for the ask!!

[mxlktxa]

im right here, promise

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

pairing; abber anderson x f!reader

c/w; (mentions of) nightmares, language, (mentions of) arguments

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

I woke up to heavy pants and sobs from the room across from me. I sat up and peeked at the bottom of the door I resided behind, seeing some light reach through from the other door. Abby was up. But why? And what was with the crying?

I creeped out of my sleeping bag on the floor, slipping past my door in order to creak open the door to Abby’s room.

There she sat, head buried in her large hands, rocking back and forth as she weeped. The door soundlessly shut behind me, yet Abby still sensed me.

Her tears ran down her face, pooling up at her chin and dripping down once it was heavy enough. Her eyes red, skin pale, and hands trembling.

“Abby? What’s wrong?” my feet tracked me in front of her, acting on instinct to place her hands on her knees so that I was able to hug her head to my stomach.

I received no answer. Unless you count quiet huffs and groans as one, then perhaps I did receive one. Just one I wasn’t really anticipating.

“I’m right here. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead,” I comfortably whispered to her, now sitting on the bed next to her but still keeping her head against me.

Abby moved herself so her head was on my lap, seeming to instantly calm herself down. Leaning my head over to check on her, she was already glancing at me.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Abby gave a weak, still an almost unseeable smile. I returned the expression, starting to reach for her braid and undo it.

“I’m sorry,” she started, “about earlier today. Pushing you away like that. I just… I didn’t want to be around anyone or take my anger out on you.”

“And that’s fine. You don’t have to tell me things right then and there.”

“I know but,” Abby huffed, looking away from me now, “you looked so hurt and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know, Abby. I know. I wasn’t hurt, just worried.”

Her head turned up to me again, now showing a bit of a bigger smile. I giggled, motioning her to sit up and face her back to me. She did what was silently asked to, hair free from her braid and covering most of her back.

“Do you want to braid it back up or do you want a hair tie?”

“Braid it back up. It’s nice when you do it.”

“As you wish,” pushing her hand around, my lips connected with the nape of her neck, separating her hair into three even sections and getting straight to work.

We sat in silence for a bit, with the exception of me humming a lullaby tune as I braided. Abby slightly swayed back and forth but not enough to challenge me. I leaned over a bit, seeing her face contort with some frustration.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I had a bit of a nightmare too."

"Yeah? Would you like to share?"

"It's the usual honestly. Running into the hospital. Seeing my fathers corpse on the ground. Owen and you trying to block the view," she paused after that, shivering in the slightest, "But this time... You two got shot. Owen was dead right off the bat but you. You were trying to hold out and I was trying to keep you with me," Abby's voice quivered with fear, like she was on the verge of tears again.

"Baby," I hushed her, letting her hair slip between my fingers so I could crawl in front of her, "I'm not dying. I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna be right here."

Abby looked to me with hopeful eyes, taking my hands to place them on either side of her head. I snickered, places many kisses onto her forehead. Abby gave a little chuckle, hands meeting my waist.

"Braid my hair in the morning?" she asked, pulling me in to hug me closely. I hummed softly, snaking my arms around her, "please? I'll wake up extra early."

"No, no. It's okay. Lay down, Abs. I'll sleep with you tonight."

Abby hurriedly got under the covers, dragging me along with her. I squealed at the action, hiding my face in her chest as she settled the blanket over us and let me rest my head on her chest.

"Promise me you won't go anywhere?" Abby asked more than demanded, hand meeting my cheek to caress it.

"Abs... I'm right here. Promise."

"Good," she sounded so comforted and happy. Abby then encased me in her arms, kissing the top of my head and relaxing.

"Goodnight, angel."

"Goodnight. Abby. Abs. Abigail. Muscle M-"

"Close your eyes and shut your mouth."

"Yes, ma'am."

[hanasnx]

hi i asked abt zena and ani. I js wanted to say that their dynamic is my favorite thing in the world. how he’s so nonchalant abt everything and mysterious and her just wanting to crack him. im in love.

also. “ever shot a porno?” god kill me now. i need more of their banter. just the way they speak to each other is so 🫠

i’d love to see a more personal (wink wink) interview between them both.

thank you indy for blessing this earth with zenakin.

(also could i be 🪐)

this is so crazy cool to me tbh bcos i didnt write them together originally to have crazy sexual tension i just feel like i cant not imbue sexual tension into my writing. i love that you asked me about them and youve picked up on their dynamics. the prompt is a little too vague so i hope im doing it justice. also yes ofc you can be that emoji &lt;3

"Bet you thought you saw the last of me." ZENA DAREN remarks smartly, a haughty curl to her lips at the sight of ANAKIN SKYWALKER sitting before her once again. He takes a sip from his water bottle, and she finds herself staring at the way his Adam's apple bobs from the movement. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and drops the bottle next to his chair leg.

"You are persistent, I'll give you that." he relents, and nods in subtle commendation. "Didn't even realize I had an agent until you relentlessly overwhelmed her with every trick in the book. Can't say I'm not impressed." Zena can't tell if this was another one of his signature dry jokes. Krayt House couldn't be so popular now that he wouldn't notice an entire person signing on to be his personal agent to coordinate events behind the scenes? How many papers has this guy signed to have not kept track of something like that? No, must be a joke. It's still taking considerable effort for her to nail this guy down. Like a Rubik's cube, she can't put it down until it's a clear solve.

Her pen points over the precipice of her clipboard. "You told her you weren't taking interviews anymore." The accusatory tone of voice utilized causes Anakin to raise his brows in mock offense.

"The series is over. Why should I?" he debates, sinking further back into his seat that unconsciously pushes out his hips. Those black pants hug him well, and Zena swallows. Additionally, he crosses his arms over his broad chest, swelling the muscle in a most please way. Cords of tendons lovingly tended to in the gym are on full display. At this point, she knows he's attractive— he has been all this time— but what would she expect from a professional porn star with his kind of experience under his belt? It won't go anywhere if she pursued it, but she's far more fascinated in him as a puzzle to solve.

"You neglected to mention to her that I would be an exception." She shrugs, as if it should be obvious, leaning her back against the chair as a snooty expression adorns her countenance.

He scoffs. "You think after a couple of links that you're an exception?"

"Out of the roster I'd say I'm the most consistent contestant. You agree to be on my show thirty-seven percent more than others on average."

Anakin tilts his head forward to peer at her through his brows curiously, "Oh, so you're keeping tabs on me, huh?" There he goes again, being that charming smooth-talker that can tongue-tie her in seconds. It's frustrating.

Warm color blooms on Zena's cheeks, and she rallies. The stumble is noted by her counter-part, who scans her vulnerable figure in her usual professional attire. Her legs crossed neatly over one another in a pencil skirt and heels is practically smoothed over as if his piercing blue gaze was a large hand. "That's not—"

"I get it." He pinches his shoulder to his neck with a sniff of his nose, swiping at it with his thumb as he glances to the side. "We both know you've got a little thing for me. Look, I was just showing up to do my job. It's not my fault you got the rights to me during the run of the series."

Without thinking, Zena blurts out, "Are you always so self-centered?"

The corner of his lips quirk up. "Only when it helps me get a read on my opponent." Once more, Zena is rendered speechless. She's been trying to decipher this guy since day one and all she's managed to do is grant him insider access to her own mind. Anakin takes advantage of her reticence, gesturing to her camera with an incline of his head and his curls bounce from the motion. "Forgot to turn on the camera." he points out to her. Her gaping mouth cannot be occupied by a single word, and he takes it one step further. "I like your glasses. New pair?"

[your-local-baguette]

Can i have headcanons on loki and reader dealing with with the pxg team?

(friends to lovers too pls 🙇🏾‍♀️

possibly fem reader but gn is fine too)

Poor baby can't be dealing with those monsters(shidou and Rin only tbh) alone😭

Take care of yourself and MWAH!!

I LOVE YOU FOR THAT REQUEST. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOO! Sending you some kisses back.

Not me writing this while listening to gorgeous by taylor swift our queen.

Warnings: none. Just not proofread

- the main trouble is rin, shidou and karasu.

- it was so much trouble ego had to make you go live in the pxg part.

- you never regretted accepting a contract more than this

- je jure je n'ai jamais autant regretter devenir une assistante pour équipes de sport. ( I swear i never regretted becoming a manager for sport teams )

- loki chuckled hearing what you said.

- you watched rin and shidou fight again.

- came up in between the two dumbasses and grabbed both of them by the back of their collar. Dragging them off the field." Next i catch you fighting like this I'm going to give you both a beating personally"

- you curse them out in french

- loki rly enjoys hearing you speak french and you talking shit about them

- you'll alway sit away from the team and he'll just willingly sit with you.

- you both became good friends

- at first karasu, shidou and rin was just a joke between you too. But it became the only subject you talk about.

- you often kicked his ankles gently under the table and then smirking. You both would burst out laughing after

- except loki caught feelings much before you did. He finally found someone who loved him for him. But he would go back to france after this project so he just buried these feelings.

- he told himself to enjoy every single second he spent with you

- you would usually watch him and the team pratice. Then dragging out the idiots ( rin and shidou ) cuz they started fighting again.

- they were genuinely scared of you after the first beating session.

- he once saw you jungling with a soccer ball.

- he didn't hesitate to join you and you both started passing eachother the ball in the air.

- you would often discuss about things like how you played for six Summer straight with a team in football. But ended becoming a manager.

- you both would usually stay in eachother room late at night

- you'd fall asleep on him Mid conversation.

- he would gently smile laying you on his bed

- the next morning you would wake to a note

- you fell asleep, breakfast already passed and im practicing with the team. Be sure to get ample rest. I know you've been skipping some sleep hours.

- he was a sweetheart with you

- he would walk back in while you're tying your hair up ( if you're bald or have short hair im sorry-) you'd have a tie in your mouth and he'd just stand there staring you up and down.

- more time passed, more it became awkward between you two.

- it did all come to an end when one evening he inhaled deeply. Grabbing both your hands. Stopping you in your tracks.

- you looked at him straight in the eyes.

- y/n! I love you!

- he admitted. Clenching his eyes shut.

- but his whole body relaxed when he felt your hand cup hia cheek, a sweet and bright smile attached to your face.

- i love you too, loki

- your thumb brushed over his lips gently before you leaned in and pressed your forehead against his

- a hand going on the back of his neck.

- you gently pushed his face, connecting your lips in a sweet and gentle kiss.

- he leaned back, as you cupped both aide of his face and nit leaving his lips for a second.

- oh how long had you waited for this.

- when you parted, you lost yourself in his eyes. Resting your head on his chest, inhaling deeply. Wrapping your arms around his larger figure

- after a while he did the same. Kissing the top of your head.

Hope you enjoyed! The end was like a drabble but separated in sections! I still hope you liked it, tysm for this request, i rly enjoyed writing this.

[your-mommy-ems]

im back 💋

5

 Amaryllis

I make myself comfortable in the passenger seat of Maximilien’s black McLaren. He starts the ignition and revs out of the parking lot smoothly. 

“So,” I start. 

He doesn’t react, waiting for me to properly start the conversation.

In a joking tone, I ask, “This isn’t a kidnapping, right?” 

“You’re not someone I would wish to kidnap,” he replied drily.

“Thank you? Is that meant to be a compliment? I’ll take it as one. But seriously though, where’re we going?” 

“Another studio. I’ve got some pieces I need to see fitted onto a live model.”

“And why me?”

“You’re convenient.” 

“Ouch,” I place a hand over my chest. “And I’m pretty?”

He doesn’t reply. “And my father doesn’t want to see these pieces.”

“Now I’m scared of whatever monstrosity you’re going to put me in.”

“You have no reason to worry your pretty little head over that kind of thing.”

I give him a smile. “You said I’m pretty.” 

“You don’t need me to tell you that. I’m sure you’re already well aware.” Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror and I hold his gaze until he turns it back to the road. He scrunches his nose. 

I purse my lips and look out of the window. “Why doesn’t Marcel wanna see these pieces?”

Maximilien’s silent for a while. Then he replies, “I suppose he just doesn’t like them. He’s stubbornly opposed to my designs for Pierre Rousseau. I’m supposed to take over as creative director for Pierre Rousseau after he resigns, but I doubt he’s going to resign at all if he’s so against my designs.”

“Woah, okay, firstly? I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one go-”

“Only because you didn’t interrupt me.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Secondly, your designs are either that bad or that different from the brand.”

“Or my father just dislikes me a lot. None of my ideas were even considered when curating this coming season’s collection. If he doesn’t want to even listen to a small tweak I want to make to a skirt, what makes you think he wants to see an entire collection of my designs?” Maximilien pauses to sneeze into his elbow. “Excuse me.”

“You sneeze a lot.”

“…Summer allergies.”

“Right.” I return my gaze to the window, watching New York pass by in the slow pace of the traffic. 

When he said studio, I expected an atelier in another skyscraper. Instead, we pull up to an apartment. 

“You live here?” I ask as we take the lift up. 

“No, this is just my studio.”

He unlocks the door. Inside the apartment is exactly like the atelier, except that it’s a bit messier. But all the equipment and furniture is white as well, with splashes of color from the materials. 

I gasp when I see the mannequins dressed in bold numbers against an entire wall. Another wall is covered completely in clothing racks. Sure, it may be a very different approach from Pierre Rousseau, but they have an outstanding quality and style  altogether. 

Tracing a light finger over the detailed edge of a bustier, I turn to Maximilien. “These are amazing.” 

“You’re just saying that.” He takes off his blazer jacket and drapes it over a chair, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons. I try my best not to notice the way the fabric of his shirt clings to his toned biceps. 

“You think I would compliment you just like that?” I scoff, “Please.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Despite his sarcastic tone, I smile sweetly at him. “I know.” 

“Okay, well.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not here to provide me with your painful lack of comedic skills, you’re here to model designs, and you can’t do that fully clothed.”

Maximilien

Amaryllis blushes. Sparkly eyed and pink cheeked like some sort of cartoon character. 

“Aren’t you at least going to turn around?” she questions, stepping out of her heels. 

“Fine.” I walk over to the open kitchen, stepping out of the range of her perfume. I swear I still have a headache from sitting in the car next to her strong scent for almost half an hour. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“As long as it isn’t poisoned.” 

“I don’t see what use a dead model would be to me.” 

There’s the sound of clothes rustling, and when I turn around to place her glass of water on the counter, she’s almost completely naked with her long arms crossed over her chest. While she downs the glass of water, I let my eyes wander appreciatively over her. She’s a pretty canvas. 

She trails her hands from the side of her ribs down to her hips, doe eyed innocence as she smiles at me. I know better than to be fooled, pulling my gaze away and walking over to the racks of clothing. I can’t keep her here for too long, so I’ll only be able to get here to wear a few of the designs. 

I pick out a dress that turns into different shades of blue under different lighting, unhooking it from the hanger and handing it to her. Amaryllis unzips the dress and steps into it, and I zip her into it from the back. 

She turns to face the mirror positioned in the corner of the room, gasping and smoothing her hands over the bodice. “Ooh, I love!”

“Yeah? It looks great on you. Walk for me.” 

She tosses her hair as she walks from one end of the house to the other, and I watch as the dress shimmers under the sunlight streaming through the windows. Making a dress and wearing it on a stationary mannequin is one thing, but seeing it in motion is a whole other. 

“What’s it made of? I’ve never seen a dress like this before,” she muses, returning to the mirror. 

“Photochromic dyescreate. It was such a tough material to source and use.” 

She does a little spin in the dress, and I watch as the light reflects off the dress and makes it look like the ocean. “Is there any way I can buy this off you?”

“Nope,” I shake my head once. “None of these are for sale.” 

I can hear the sharp breath she takes in and see the way her already good posture straightens even more when my fingers brush over her back and I unzip the dress. 

I’ve worked with so many different models before, dammit, I’ve even seen some of them completely nude, but something about Amaryllis is different. Honestly, I never really saw female bodies as anything more than moving mannequins before. But her, with her loud, cocky, show-off attitude, demands attention. 

I hand her the next number, sneezing when she gets too close to me. That damn vanilla perfume. I don’t get how anyone stands it. 

The dress is a gauzy, pink piece that looks like it’s just been draped over the body, when it’s actually held together by a thin layer of skin colored tulle. She steps into the dress, her eyebrows raising when she catches her reflection in the mirror. 

I frown. “Let me get some pins.”

“On this material? You’ll ruin it.”

“I made it, I know what would ruin it. I just want to see it fit nicely.” I find a box of pins under scraps of fabric. Standing behind her, I pinch up a little section of the dress until it hugs her slim waist the way it’s supposed to. 

“Ow!” she winces when I slide the pin in. “You poked me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I scold with a shake of my head. She’s obnoxious. 

“You stabbed me with a safety pin.” 

“I did not stab you, and it was an accident.” I secure the pin on the small of her back, tightening the material. 

She rolls her eyes. “Come on.”

“Come on what? Walk.”

“Say sorry first, Maximilien.” 

My brows crease at her. She places her hands on her hips, looking at me through the mirror. I sigh. “I’m sorry for poking you with the pin, but if you keep this up, I won’t apologize the next time I purposely stab you with one.” 

“You were the one who wanted me here. If you’re getting annoyed, it’s all on you.” 

She struts down the little space of the apartment, the dress making her look like a princess. It’s like Cinderella’s ruined dress, but pretty. 

“The craftsmanship is incredible. Your dad must be crazy not wanting this in the collection. See, maybe add some flowers here”—she gestures to the side of her hip—“boom. Spring collection finale. Okay, maybe not finale, but you get the point.” 

“You talk too much.” I grab her by the waist, pulling her in front of me before fussing with the loose material around her hips. 

“I’m just trying to compliment you! Plus, you have too many opinions on me that I didn’t ask for,” she retorts, a hand on my shoulder to steady herself.

“You have too many opinions on everything. Instead of sewing dresses maybe I should sew your mouth shut.”

That earns me a teasing swat on the side of my head, only making me chuckle. 

“You are the most ass guy I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of guys,” she huffs. 

I stand back, still frowning at the dress. “Whatever. Take that off.”

With another stubborn little huff, she carefully steps out of the dress. 

OMG OMG AHHHHHHHHH

IM IN LOVE ITS SO GOOD!!!