#got hit by those good old fashion feels

[eevees-hobbies]

Talk You Through It - NSFW (Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya)

Author’s Note: The number of attractive characters from Wind Breaker is a problem.

Content Warnings: Fem!Reader x Hajime Umemiya. A thirst. Sex is implied through quotes but not specifically described in the manner that I usually do. But, still, sex. Minors Do Not Interact.

Word Count: 470 (so short!)

Dividers by Saradika. Requests are as open as my legs are for Haruka Sakura's dick.

Thinking about Hajime Umemiya, who likes to talk you through anything and everything. He has such a penchant for teaching, breaking down complex topics to the point that they seem so simple. As a leader and mentor, he likes to help people connect the dots. He loved it when Sakura’s eyes got wide, and he finally understood why fighting could be a conversation—an opportunity—to understand someone. He loves speaking to Hiragi about the impact fostering children can have when they’re brought up in environments filled with unconditional love and care. 

Most of all, he loves it when you join him in the garden, and he can sit behind you, his large hands nestled over yours, as he physically shows you how to replant a tomato plant so it has the best chance of thriving. Are you taking his words to heart right now? Maybe not. 

You’re a little too distracted by the way his chest, only covered by the thin fabric of his white tee, feels against your back. 

You’re a little too distracted by the way his breath tickles the nape of your neck and how much deeper his voice sounds in your ear. 

You’re a little too distracted by the overwhelming sound of blood rushing in your ears at being so close to one another. You can smell his body, the smell of the earth mixing with his sweat, and it gives you those old-fashioned schoolgirl crush butterflies. 

It’s flustering because Umemiya knows precisely what to say and how to say it, so you feel a slight burning sensation in your core over the most mundane topics. Who knew succulents could be so sexy?

And he’s no different in the most intimate moments you share. When you’re straddling his lap, leaning over his frame, with shakey arms barely keeping you up, he’s also taking the opportunity to talk you through your pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you? I can tell by the way she's squeezing me.” 

“Mm, baby girl, ride me just like that. Nice and slow, yeah, roll your hips.” 

“You feel that baby? That’s your special spot. See what happens when I keep hitting it…just…like…this.”

 “Please don’t look embarrassed; yeah, look at me with those pretty eyes.”

“I need you to look at me, babe.”

“You’re stunning, pretty girl.”

“Here, let me take over, baby. You’ve done such a good job riding my dick.”

“You gonna cum for me? You gonna cum on this dick, baby girl?”

“Nnngh, lose yourself on me. I don’t care. Make a mess. I want messy. I need messy, baby.”

As you reach your climaxes together, gripping one another with the tenderness of familiar lovers, foreheads pressed against one another, your fingers tangled in his sweat-drenched hair and dissolving into one another, you’ll look into Umemiya’s storm-blue eyes and see the look of someone with resounding pride—and it’s all for you.

“You did so good, my girl.” 

[growth-opportunities]

My wife was bookish and slender, pale from spending most of her time in dimly lit research libraries, her glasses large and thick for similar reasons. Her obsession with history and ancient cultures knew no bounds, only second to her obsession with the human body, specifically the female body. Seriously, I've never met anyone more fascinated with boobs and butts. Even the messiest of frat boys would get flustered and stammer "W-woah, hey, uh, that's k-kind of, um..." I always told her that I thought her curves were perfect; her B cups fit nicely in my hands and her butt looked great in tight pants, even if it wasn't the biggest. But that wasn't good enough for her. I could always tell when she was horny because I'd be flooded with thirst traps of women, not to trap me or trick me, just to show me the kinds of extremes that she was obsessed with. Jealous of. Desired deeply and desperately.

When I took her to Greece for our anniversary, she had already picked out a temple she wanted to visit. She talked my ear off the whole flight, nearly 11 hours, about the kinds of artifacts and statues they found there, the borderline lewd artwork on the walls, having to remind her from time to time that we weren't the only people on the flight. She was just excited and that enthusiasm was very charming. She talked extensively about the various fertility rites and how our trip coincided with a ritual they'd perform in the spring. The eagerness in her eyes when she talked about wanting to be the first person to perform that ritual there in thousands of years... How could I say no?

Well, it's possible that those ancient folks knew more than we give them credit for. Even before we left the temple, her "authentic" dress was struggling to contain her impressive assets, her breasts doubling in size and her hips stretching wider. The armrests on the flight back proved to be a tighter squeeze than expected, her ass lifting her into the air an extra few inches. When we hit a patch of turbulence, her fingernails dug into the armrests, biting her lip and leaning to whisper in my ear "I can feel them growing!" When we got back home, we attempted a fashion show with some of her old clothes, her panties not even fitting around her thickened thighs and the cups of her bras barely fitting around one of her tits, let alone both. I had never seen her more aroused and, a day or two later, we finally collapsed, exhausted and sweaty and a little dehydrated, our hips aching. I can only hope that whatever goddess blessed her, us, is pleased with the results. We definitely are.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Not German

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You're not German

Magda doesn't often get phone calls from her manager. Most of the time it's emails or good old-fashioned letters in the mail so when she gets the phone call, she's a little confused.

She's even more confused when the topic turns out to not even be about her but you instead.

"Does y/n hold German citizenship?"

Magda's confused. "Huh? Erm...I don't know, why?"

"Was she born in Germany? Is that where her birth certificate is from?"

Magda laughs slightly. "Which one?" She turns serious though as anxiety swells in her gut. "Yeah, she's got a German birth certificate. And a Swedish one and a Danish one."

She hears her manager swear on the other side of the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Germany are interested."

"Interested? In what?"

"In having her play for their under-fifteen team."

Magda laughs again. "They can't do that. She's not German."

"Legally, she is. She was born in Germany. She's lived there for more than five years. She was registered in a German school while you and Pernille were at Bayern. Under the eligibility rules, she meets the criteria."

"She's not German," Magda insists.

"It's called jus soli - the principle of birthplace. She was born in Germany. She has citizenship. They can call her up if they want."

Magda swears. "They can't," She insists," I...I won't let them. We've settled. We're good where we are. She's too young to be shipped off across the world to a country that-"

"To a country that's interested in her? A country whose language she's fluent in? A country that she's grown up in?"

Magda grinds her teeth. "A country that shouldn't be trying to poach the future star of Sweden or Denmark. How did they even find out about this anyway? It's sneaky. She's not theirs to have."

"Magda-"

"No! She's barely fourteen! She's not going to Germany!"

"Who's not going to Germany?"

Pernille appears in the doorway, still wrapped up in her coat from where she's just gotten back from dropping you off at training.

"y/n." Magda's still grinding her teeth. "Germany want her."

"For what?"

"To play on their youth team."

It's not often that rage flickers on Pernille's face but this is clearly one of those times.

"She's not eligible to play for them," She says firmly, as if her speaking it into existence will make it happen.

"Apparently she is. Some stupid law about being born in Germany," Magda replies, turning her phone onto speaker.

"They can't have her."

"That's what I said."

"She's too young to go off to Germany by herself."

"I said that too."

"You're missing the point," Magda's manager says," They're inviting her to play for them. It's not them saying she has to or them pretending that they're her only option. Just an option. She's not registered with them so they put out feelers with the Swedish FA who put them in contact with me."

"She's not German," Magda insists again, feeling her throat tighten.

In her mind, Sweden and Denmark were always going to be the only option for you. One day, one (or both) would want to call you up for the senior team. One day, you would choose which of your mothers' footsteps to walk in. One day, you would either be wearing Sweden or Denmark's colours at an international tournament.

She hadn't even considered that your birth and time spent growing up in Germany would mean that you might not end up in either her's or Pernille's team.

"Listen, Germany knows that. They know that but they also know who her parents are, they know she's on track to be one of the best keepers in the world. They know that she speaks the language and she's smart. To them, securing her now could mean she chooses them when she turns eighteen and all three of us know that when she hits eighteen, she's going to be great. It's tactical for them. Sure, they lucked out on her meeting all of the eligibility criteria and, sure, it's completely underhanded and sneaky of them but, ultimately, it's no one's decision but hers. She's not registered with them. If they want her they go through me and they go through you. But they want her and a decision needs to be made."

"A decision has been made," Magda says," The decision is no. They can't have her. She's too young to go to Germany by herself. She's too young to be mixed in with the politics of this all. It's confusing and I won't let it happen."

Pernille's nodding firmly at her side even though Magda's manager can't see them.

"It's...Magda, I understand what you're saying. I do. None of us want her in German colours but...it's not your decision to make. It's hers."

"She's not here right now," Pernille says after a long stretch of silence," She's at practice."

"Talk to her when she comes home," Magda's manager says," Let her make the decision."

●～●～●～●～

You think Momma and Morsa have had an argument when you slip through the front door after having been dropped off back home by your friend's mother.

The vibe at the dinner table is frosty and you glance between your mothers awkwardly.

You're not entirely sure what they could have argued about but it's making your dinner very unenjoyable.

"So," Morsa says finally, putting her cutlery down," What do you think about Germany?"

Momma shoots her a look and your eyes dart between them.

"Er...Are we moving again? Back to Germany?"

Morsa's eyes widen. "Why? Is that something you want? You want to go back to Germany?"

Momma keeps glaring at her and horror swirls in your stomach.

"Are you two breaking up?" You ask quickly, looking between them in disbelief. "Is that why you're asking about Germany? Is one of your moving to Germany and you're sorting out who I'm living with?"

You stand up quickly, your chair clattering to the ground.

"I-I don't want to have this conversation."

"No! No, princesse." Momma reaches out to grab at your wrists, pulling you into her grip. "Me and Morsa aren't breaking up. We're not separating. We're not moving to Germany."

Morsa scoffs.

"We're not moving to Germany, Magda!" Momma snaps before pulling away, her tone softening," I'm sorry for worrying you, princesse, but me and Morsa got a call today."

"A call?"

You're guided back into your seat.

"A call," Morsa says. Her hands are clenching and releasing on top of the table.

"And...This call had nothing to do with you two separating?"

"Nothing at all," Momma assures you," It just threw us."

"And it's about Germany?"

"You were born in Germany," Morsa continues, though her eye twitches like it did all those years ago when Leah Williamson gave you her shirt," And you went to school in Germany, when you were younger. Do you remember?"

"I only went to school once a week," You reply," You home schooled me the rest of the time."

"We did but it was still a German school you went to."

"I guess. What has this got to do with the call, though?"

"My manager called earlier. Germany's interested in inviting you to their under-fifteen team."

"Oh." You sink down in your seat. You don't like where this is going at all. Both of your mothers had played for their youth teams. They were always going on about how much of a good experience it was for them.

You hadn't been called up for either Sweden or Denmark just yet.

You don't know if you really want to go to Germany to play.

"Oh?"

You laugh bitterly. "Germany, huh? I'm...I'm not German."

"Under the law, you are. And under the eligibility criteria, they can ask you to play for them," Momma explains.

"Oh..." You play with your food. "When do I have to leave?"

You don't want to play for Germany at all. You don't want to play for anywhere but Denmark or Sweden. But Momma and Morsa always go on and on about how much it improved them to play in the youth teams. You don't want to let them down.

You don't see Morsa's face fall at your words. "You want to go?"

"Do I have a choice?" You sullenly look at your food. Suddenly, everything tastes like ash in your mouth.

"Of course, princesse," Momma assures you," You always have a choice."

"You won't make me play if I don't want to?"

"Of course not."

"And-And Germany won't force me to play for them either?"

Morsa lays a hand on your arm. "What makes you think that Germany will force you to play for them?"

"Tia Tana said once that she and the Spanish team went on strike and then they all got called up during their next international break."

"This is a youth team, princesse," Morsa says," They have no right to ask that of you and they'll have to get through me, Momma and Sweden and Denmark to make you. You don't have to play for them if you don't want to."

"And you won't get mad? You always say that playing on the youth teams developed your skills."

"We won't get mad," Momma says," You don't want to play for Germany?"

"No."

"Okay. Then you won't play for Germany."

"That simple?"

"That simple."

You breathe out a long breath as your body finally relaxes, all of the tension bleeding out of the room.

Morsa is in a similar position, finally looking relaxed for the first time since you got home.

[teatreeoilll]

|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days."

Nobara sits beside you, her look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before."

"Kugisaki!" You plea, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?"

"Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?"

"Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do.

Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat.

"We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers.

"You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard.

"Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute?

"Saturo, I've -"

"First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn.

"I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you.

"Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -"

-

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? You think, with your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision.

"Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms.

"It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it."

Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto."

She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window.

"I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette.

"It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly.

Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

-

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done.

With your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice.

His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday.

"You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." He dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine.

"Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes."

"But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again.

"Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here."

"Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened.

"Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless.

"I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action.

"You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age.

"Aren't you happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there.

"I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on.

"I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses.

"You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice.

"Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe, "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

-

"Not a word, Shoko." You pleaded to her again.

"If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath.

"Shoko, I'm begging you!" 

[lanabuckybarnes]

So bit of a weird scenario I have in my head that I wanted to share with you all.

Once again I’m writing more of Sgt Barnes but can you blame me.

Pairing: Sgt Barnes x reader

Warnings: None I believe.

-

Back in the 40s, before the world went to shit, you, Bucky and Steve were an inseparable trio. Where one went the others followed, although most of the time it was Steve third-wheeling you both. You and Bucky weren’t together, no, you were just close friends. Steve would scoff whenever they’d both say it, you’d both be wrapped up in each other’s arms and deny it.

The truth was, both of you were idiots, Steve had been the guy you’d both turn to when it came to gushing over each other. He still couldn’t figure out how you two never saw the heart eyes you’d give each other. You never got to confess your love to Bucky till much later, you lost him for 70 years after he fell from that train, after you were captured by Hydra also. When you finally met, your feelings for each other were far too much and you spilt over a bottle of old fashioned whiskey, life was good after that. Then you lost him again.

-

Tony, Steve and you return to the past to retrieve the stones, unfortunately Loki steals it before any of you were able to grab it. You’d have to travel much further back, to around 1943, before Bucky’s capture.

Since you were familiar with the area Steve and Tony trusted you to scout out ahead before they moved in. You never expected a group of drunk men to corner you into an alley and just your luck, your comms had stopped working making you unable to call for backup. You’d have to fight them yourself.

You’d gotten the upper hand for the most part, 3 of the 4 men lay nursing wounds but the 4th man had caught you unaware, when your back was turned he’d grabbed a pipe raising it high above his head as you turned to watch, your eyes closing at the impending attack- only for the pipe to not hit you at all.

“You think it’s cool to hit a woman punk”. The words were polluted with rage. The alley reverberated the crack of fist against bone, a howl following after. the man who’d almost broken your skull lay blubbering on the floor, blood pooling from between his fingers.

“You alright?” The man asked, you finally raised your eyes from his pale green pants to his face.

Your beating heart stopped, heaving breaths caught in your throat and tears welling in your eyes. It was him, those steel blue orbs unmistakable. It had been so long since you had seen that colour.

His brows quirked in confusion at your gawking face, he felt exposed.

“Hellooo” he tried again, this time it was enough to break you from your trance. You took note of his outstretched hand and grasped it gently, allowing him to pull you up close to him.

“Hmm doesn’t look like theirs much damage” he hummed his thumb running over a graze on your cheek, his mouth frowning slightly at your wet eyes. You wondered what the repercussions would be if he recognised you, or if you ran away with him.

“Are you ok?” Steve's voice broke out through the small earpiece but you couldn’t reply, still entranced by Bucky’s deep blue eyes.

“You know it’s crazy, I feel like I know you” Bucky laughed his hand fell from your face to tuck itself into his pocket. Oh shit, play it off, play it off!

“Oh yeah heh… must just have a normal-looking face” you retorted while looking away, desperately trying to conceal your face without it looking obvious. Bucky just hummed through pursed lips, unconvinced at your explanation.

After a beat, you cleared your throat and pulled away from him. “Well I gotta go, thanks for helping me” With one last longing look you left him in that alley. Rubbing at your eyes to hide the tears from Tony and Steve.

‘What a confusing woman’ Bucky’s head shook at the encounter before a flicker of gold caught his attention. With ease, he squatted down to have a look, at a pendant, a very old-fashioned-looking one. Picking it up he rolled it around in his fingers, inspecting its fine detail, suddenly it popped open.

Two photos laid delicately inside it, Bucky and you in the 40s, one he recognised instantly and a much more recent one taken by Sam when you weren’t looking. You were both on a fancy looking motorbike, your face contorted with laughter while Bucky’s eyes watched you from over his shoulder— even from the photo he could tell his eyes were swimming with love, that same love he felt for the other version of you.

How did he not notice before. He mentally kicked himself at his blindness, only a fool would completely miss something like that.

Tony and Steve were waiting for you when you got back to your meeting spot, their brows furrowed at your dishevelled appearance, wondering how you’d got into a fight so quickly.

Just then Steve noticed something.

“Your pendant”

Your hand shot to your neck, it wasn’t there, they’d grabbed at it during the fight but you hadn’t expected it to fall off.

“I have to go back for it”, you begged but Steve only shot you a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, we have to go”

“But—”

“Are you looking for this?” His familiar voice vibrated your bones, your body reacting to it in the same way it always did.

He had his pendant dangling from between his fingers, a small smile decorating his features.

“My pendant” you sighed under your breath stepping forward to Bucky’s large structure, he tutted in response, pulling the pendant back.

Instead, he delicately turned your body and placed the pendant around your neck, fastening it once again with gentle fingers.

Spinning you around again his eyes met yours, the deep blue twinkling with specks of love. His fingers moved up your body till they found their spot on either side of your face. You were frozen in place.

“I'm glad he- I finally said something” his honey-toned voice broke the silence between you, a blush making its way onto his pale face as he contemplated whether or not he should go through with what his heart was telling him to do.

‘Fuck it’ he thought, pulling your face close to his. Sealing his plump lips over yours in a tender kiss.

With one last look into your eyes, he pulled back, hand still grasping at your own as he smiled.

“I’ll see you around” and with that, his hand slipped from yours as he turned. He’d left again with a promise— a promise that he’d fulfilled when he stepped through that gold circle of Strange’ and was back in your arms again, the cool metal fingers brushing over your face. You couldn’t wait to tell him about what had happened.

-

I’ve got so much smut in my drafts it’s actually unreal, who wants some?

This is a little thing I keep thinking about but idk if I’ve fleshed it out really and I’m having a little trouble with getting my emotions across in writing just now but meh.

Enjoy x

[viktorviolettaenterprises]

Mafia Inspired Posepack

DOWNLOAD

2 years ago, my good friend @rebouks, also known as Rebecca creating a Peaky Blinder-inspired group pose pack *THIS*, inspired me to make my own version with a unique twist. This time, I used artwork Some from the "Mafia" game series as the basis for my poses. I hope you enjoy this pose pack!

Author's Note

You Need:

Andrew's Pose Player

@twistedmexi Searchable Pose Player

Weapons Included: "Gotta Keep it Real"

Smith & Wesson Model 10

The Smith & Wesson Model 10 is like the classic rock of revolvers—timeless and reliable. This baby has been around since the late 1800s, and it’s still a favorite among folks who appreciate good old-fashioned craftsmanship. It’s a simple, no-nonsense .38 Special revolver that feels solid in your hand and gives you that satisfying "click" when you pull the trigger. With its sleek design and smooth action, it’s perfect for both newbies and seasoned shooters. Whether you’re heading to the range or keeping it for home defense, the Model 10 won’t let you down. Plus, it's easy to load and unload, making it user-friendly for everyone.

Smith & Wesson Model 20

The Smith & Wesson Model 20 is like the hidden gem in the revolver world. It’s not as well-known as some of its cousins, Model 10. but it packs a punch and offers some solid features. This wheel gun is chambered for the .38 Special, making it an excellent choice for both target shooting and home defense.

One of the standout things about the Model 20 is its smooth trigger pull and Bigger Frame. Some people said "Size Matter" and Model 20 defintely One of them!, which makes for an enjoyable shooting experience. The gun has a nice heft to it, giving you a feeling of stability and control. Plus, it has a classic look that screams quality, with a design that’s built to last.

Smith & Wesson Model 27

The Smith & Wesson Model 27 is like the high-end sports car of revolvers. It’s got style, performance, and a bit of flair that sets it apart from the crowd. Chambered in .357 Magnum, this beauty is not just about looks; it delivers some serious power and accuracy.

With its sleek lines and polished finish, the Model 27 feels great in your hand and looks even better in a display case. The double-action mechanism is smooth, making it easy to shoot accurately. Plus, it’s got a solid reputation, having been a favorite among law enforcement and enthusiasts for decades. Whether you're hitting the range or adding to your collection, this revolver has the chops to impress.

Colt Detective Special .38

The Colt Detective Special .38 is a classic revolver that’s been a go-to for police detectives, especially those working undercover but it's Not Limited To Some Mob who lucky enough to get their Hands on it!. Compact and easy to conceal, this wheel gun offers a perfect blend of reliability and simplicity. It’s got a sleek design that makes it ideal for discreet carry while still packing a solid punch.

With its double-action mechanism, it’s quick to draw and fire, which is crucial in high-pressure situations. The Detective Special is known for its accuracy and smooth trigger pull, making it a favorite among those who need a dependable sidearm. Whether you’re in law enforcement or just appreciate a well-crafted firearm, this revolver has a timeless appeal.

Sawed Off Shotgun "Lupara"

The sawed-off lupara is a classic piece with a bit of a rebellious edge. Originally hailing from Italy, this short-barreled shotgun is known for its compact size and powerful punch. With the barrel cut down, it’s easy to handle and perfect for close-quarters situations, making it popular among those looking for something discreet yet effective.

The lupara has a rugged, no-frills look, often associated with the rustic lifestyle and a bit of outlaw charm. Its twin barrels can fire both buckshot and slugs, giving you flexibility depending on the situation. Whether you're in the field or just admiring its craftsmanship, the sawed-off lupara has a gritty allure that’s hard to resist. also Perfect Hammer in case you want to Whack Some Rats Or Rival Family, Mafia Style!

Thompson M1928

"The gun that made the twenties roar" Here We go! This is the stuff of legends. This iconic submachine gun is famous for its sleek design, distinctive curved magazine, and, of course, its roaring firepower. Originally developed during the Prohibition era, it quickly became a favorite among gangsters and law enforcement alike.

With its heavy, solid feel and classic wood furniture, the Thompson looks and feels like a piece of history. It’s chambered in .45 ACP, delivering a satisfying kick and a distinctive sound that turns heads at the range. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just looking for an unforgettable shooting experience, the "Chicago Typewriter" is sure to impress.

Winchester Model M1897 "Trench Gun"

The Winchester 1897 Trench Gun is a true piece of American history. Known for its rugged design and reliability, this pump-action shotgun was a staple for soldiers during World War I and Bring Them to Victory. With its short barrel and heat shield, it was built for close-quarters combat, making it a favorite among troops in the trenches.

The action on this beauty is smooth, and it packs a serious punch with its 12-gauge shells. The classic look, complete with wood furniture and a solid build, gives it a nostalgic charm. Whether you’re a collector, a history buff, or just love shooting, the Winchester 1897 is a standout that never goes out of style.

THANK YOU!: @bdangkingfish

@cctreasuretrove

@exzentra-reblog

@decadesfinds

@coffee-cc-finds

@ts4cc-finds

@ts4-poses

@ts4history

@ts4historyccfinds

@sims4historicalccfinds

@historicalsims4

@sssvitlanz

[halemerry]

Been thinking too much about Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. Just the fact the only proper Queen song we got all season was that song is still haunting me. Like, we got so much Queen season 1 and, while Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death works as a venue to still give us various songs, the only one actually sung by them - the only one the Bentley actually plays - is that one. The ultimate Good Omens Song.

And I can’t stop thinking about the lines they used and the ones they avoided because like. Most of what they give us of the song is actually the guitar without lyrics. Which just makes the lyrics we do get seem very specific and intentional and I just. It opens with the lines Hey boy where did you get it from? Hey boy where did you go? I learned my passion from the good old fashioned school of lover boys. The fact that's the first beat that hits? Knowing how the season ends? They're trying to kill me with that.

Then it skips the line about the Ritz - one of their happy end symbols - and jumps right to Driving back in style, in my salon, will do quite- and cuts off before it can finish the line. It cuts right before the word nicely which just feels very Crowley in itself. And right before the line Just take me back to yours, that will be fine which is the opposite of how this season ends.

And. Anddd. The beat before the song cuts in feels very apt given our ending too.

When I'm not with you, think of me always. (I miss those long hot summer nights) I miss you. When I'm not with you, think of me always - Love you, love you.

It's just truly the perfect choice here.

[corruptedcaps]

Clumsy Me

“It’s a super kind gesture Greg but are you sure there are no other pairs of pants I can wear? Not that I’m not grateful but skin tight leggings aren’t really my style. Plus I know your stepmom Madison ran out on you and your dad like a year ago but she’d kill me if she saw me in a pair of her slick black pants. You’re right beggars can’t be choosers put this is just until my own jeans dry in your machine ok? Still can’t believe I tripped like that, did you always have that foot stool there? Whatever, just give me a minute to change.”

“Well what do you think? You hate it right? Wait you like it? I guess it is kind of nice, it makes my figure kind of pop doesn’t it? I never thought I’d have the body to pull off anything like this. Can’t believe I’m the same size as you step mom too. Could never wear some of the things she has in there though. All that luxurious fur, expensive jewelry, and those plunging necklines, I could never! Oh whoops I’m so clumsy today, I’ve gone and spilled the second drink you got me on my top. I’ll just sneak back into your step mom’s closet and find something to wear.”

“There we go, now I’m all dry and warm, despite this new top not covering my navel. When I put it on I realized that something was missing and somehow I knew this belt would tie everything together. I feel so stylish, like one of those bougy bitches at school. Do you think if I wore this to school tomorrow they would notice? I promise I’ll bring it all back after school tomorrow. Thanks!”

“I know I know I said I would bring the clothes back and I have but I just had to borrow some others. My outfit was a big hit with Cassandra and all her friends, they said I showed real promise! Can you believe that? Only last week they were picking on me. But if I show up tomorrow wearing my usual drab unfashionable outfits they’ll start bullying me again. Plus don’t I look kind of hot in this new combo? I’ve never worn such high boots before or such a short skirt. It’s hard to explain but the clothes just kind of call to me and each piece I choose just makes sense. I never had an eye for fashion before but these clothes are bringing the inner designer out in me and I can’t deny the results!”

“Hey there handsome, I need to get a new outfit for tomorrow. The girls were in awe yet again. They were right too, I do look better without my glasses. My head is swimming with ideas of what to wear, it was all I could think of last night. What do you mean no? Greg you don’t understand, I need to keep up appearances otherwise I’m toast! Plus your stepmom isn’t around anymore! Still no huh? Well that’s a shame, because you know what else I was thinking last night? I was thinking how if I have to come over everyday to change then you and I should have some fun too. Don’t be coy, I’ve seen how you’ve been looking at me. Look how about you see the lingerie I borrowed, see wouldn’t you like to see me in more?”

“How did I get in here? I made a copy of your key, duh! If I’m going to be your girlfriend I need to be able to get inside your house when you’re not here. Aren’t you glad I did, like look at this new outfit I put together, all the girls are going to be green with envy when they see me. One of them was telling me that Cassandra was starting to feel threatened by my style, that she thinks I’m going to take over the clique! Can you believe that? Me?! It is kind of hot to think of though, me taking over a group of girls who used to bully me and taking down the head bitch herself. Mmmm it’s got me kind of wet, how about you be a good boyfriend and get our knees for me. There’s a reason why I’m wearing a skirt after all.”

“You’re breaking up with me? Why? I have not become a bully! Cassandra was the biggest bitch in our school, I just took her down several pegs. In front of the whole school. While she cried. Sure I made all her old friends block her on socials and refuse to talk to her ever again but she deserved it and now that all her friends are mine now I can run the school how it should be. If that means some of life’s losers get bullied then so be it, they don’t deserve my pity or yours. Come on baby I’m offering you the chance to become king, don’t let your morals get in the way of having me as your queen. Fine if that’s how you feel then fuck you loser, you small dicked prick. I only was with you to get access to you stepmom’s clothes, but I don’t need them or you! So long dork!”

“Oh it’s you creep. Surprised to see me in your house? Well I had every intention of never seeing you again but I was wrong about what I said last week. What? About you? Don’t be stupid, I meant about the clothes. I do NEED them! I bought some hawt clothes of my own but it just wasn’t the same. They weren’t expensive and slutty enough. I was feeling my confidence and power draining over the past few days but now that I’m back in Madison’s clothes I’m feeling more me again. Her bitchy perfume still lingers in their fabric and it’s makes me feel so bad! Your dad let me in and said I should just take whatever I wanted. He was just so accommodating after I put on Madison’s tightest clothes and gave him the best blowjob of his life. He said I should come back everyday and I fully intend on doing so.”

“Mmm your father was right, blonde does make me look older, more mature, more sexy. Wasn’t Madison a blonde? Why am I even asking you, it will only distract you from cooking. To think a few months ago I was giving you the best handjobs of your life so I could have access to Madison’s clothes and now I’m your dad’s fiancée and all the clothes are mine! You could have had me you know? You could have had this perfect ass but you were worried I had become a bully or some nonsense. Your father loves what a bitch I am and encourages me to be a mean spoilt brat by letting me buy whatever I want. Having access to his money allowed me to buy the clothes I deserved! That’s why I love him unconditionally. It certainly helps he’s so well hung, something you never inherited. Speaking of which I think I just heard him come in, I think he and I can slip in a quickie while you cook. Stay if you want to watch perv.”

“Don’t look at me worm, just keep scrubbing the floors. Your father and I want this place spotless when we return from our honeymoon but before we leave I just wanted to tell you a secret. I’m pregnant. I have no doubt it will be a girl and I’m going to raise her to be the biggest, meanest slut there even has been. She’ll have everything her cruel heart desires and I’m going to spoil her rotten. She’ll have my fashion sense of course and your father’s ruthless business acumen. What do you think of Maddy for her name, short for Madison? She’ll be such a wicked princess, and you? Well you’ll be here cleaning the floors everyday for the rest of your life. On that note… oooops I’ve spilled my drink all over your clean floor. I guess I’m just so clumsy.”

[teatreeoill]

|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days." Nobara's look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before." "Kugisaki!" You plea to her, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?" "Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?" "Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do. Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You've marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat. "We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers. "You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard. "Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute? "Saturo, I've -" "First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn. "I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you. "Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? With your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision. "Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms. "It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it." Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto." She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window. "I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette. "It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly. Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done. Your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice. His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday. "You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." His dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine. "Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes." He puzzled over your answer. "But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again. "Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here." "Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened. "Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless. "I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action. "You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age. "Are you not happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there. "I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on. "I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses. "You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice. "Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe. "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

-

"Not a word, Shoko." you pleaded to her again. "If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath. "Shoko, I'm begging you!" 

[yggdrasilhypno]

Come here to gamble your days away, huh?

Not to say that I can blame ya much, seems like about everyone comes in here hoping to score big on somethin’.

Lucky day for you though, I’ve been needing a new volunteer for our newest attraction.

You see, ol’ hoss upstairs has been wanting new games out on the floor. You know, to get the ol’ folks all riled up.

They want the new fancy shmancy stuff, meanwhile we’re a bit more old fashioned.

We like our classics.

And what’s more classic than a good game of cards?

Though, we run things a bit differently here, of course.

Instead of the simple blackjacks or pokers, we prefer the game we dub “Eyeball.”

Never heard of it? It’s easy, I’ll show ya.

All you gotta do is keep your eyes on the cards in front of you and bet on the one in my hand, that’s all it is to it.

Sounds like a magic trick, huh? Kinda is, I gotta admit.

But, whatever gets people through the doors, you know?

So then, let’s start easy. Heck, I’ll give ya a freebie round, just to learn.

Four cards here on the table.

Simple ones too.

We got an Ace of Spades, Ace of Clubs, Ace of Hearts, and Ace of Diamonds.

All you gotta do is watch this Ace of Clubs for me, gotcha?

Keep those eyes on the card, because now it’s going in my deck.

All four cards bein’ shifted around in my hands, keeping those pretty eyes on my Ace of Clubs.

Just keep those eyes on me here, darlin’.

Each card moving around blurrin’ just a bit more in your eyes.

It gets hard to keep track of after a while anyways.

Maybe it’s best if you sit still and really focus on your card.

After all, you gotta win, right?

You want that big payout.

And so, those eyes are just glued to the card, shiftin’ all round now.

And, boom. Here we are.

Four cards on the table. All flipped over.

Which one’s that Ace of Clubs, darlin?

Hard to remember? Come on, you can throw out a guess for me.

Tell you what, guess right and you get some chips, on me.

Just don’t tell my ol’ boss about this, you hear?

Alright, go right on ahead and choose.

Hey hey, you got it right.

Feels amazing when you get it right on the money, huh?

Like you’ve been rocked with endless euphoria under the warmest of suns?

Yeah, that’s the hit of a gambler, alright.

Tell you what, I’ll give you another round here.

But, I throw in the full deck, just so that you get all my rules. Deal?

Good to hear, partner. Let’s hit this one on the head then.

You’ll be looking for this exact Ace of Hearts.

Got your eyes glued on tight onto it?

Keep those eyes on it now.

We don’t want you losing any money now, do we?

Of course, your brain could think about that right now, but it’s too caught up focusing on my cards shuffling and shifting around in my hands.

It’s way easier to worry about which card is gonna make you a winner here, you know.

Keep those eyes on it as my hands go faster and that Ace of Hearts gets thrown around more and more.

My careful hands, seemingly teasing you with the way I’m pulling and pushing the card around in front of you, almost giving away the answer.

Right before i stop, just like that brain of yours.

Right in its tracks.

And I set the cards all down.

And we wait now.

Tell me what card’s yours, hotshot.

Hard to tell, ain’t it?

You know what? I’m a nice guy, we’ll just slide this one as a win for me and you can keep enjoying that nice feeling of nothin’ in your head.

Don’t worry, I’ll just take a few chips here and there while you keep watchin’ the pretty cards a-movin’.

After all, it’s a way better feeling knowing those chips are going right back to the hands that keep shuffling that ol’ brain around, right?

Exactly.

Speaking of that brain, I’m guessing you can hear the casino slowing down around us, huh?

The roulette wheel spinnin, much like that brain o’ yours going around and around, each thought being spun outta control with each game.

Maybe you can hear the slots spinning round and round too, seemingly mixing up your thoughts one by one.

The pretty coins coming out of the machine, shiny and distracting as that pure metal creates that cha-ching you can’t help but love.

Those sounds all creating that perfect atmosphere for a jackpot.

Ah, you felt that? Very good.

Whenever people hear jackpot, they get all antsy.

They can’t help but get excited and overjoyed for obvious reasons.

That payout coupled with all the flashing lights and pleasure that comes with is euphoric.

That’s why whenever I say jackpot, I like to put an emphasis on it.

To really get you to understand how lucky you are.

How lucky you are to be at my table.

How lucky you are for me to handle your chips here.

How lucky you are to be doing so well right now.

You’re on a hot streak, after all.

So keep watching the cards in my hand, shuffling your brain all around.

Scrambling your mind as only I can.

Looking for the cards I tell you to.

Already forgot your card? No problem at all, darlin’.

Just keep those eyes on the cards and no doubt you’ll find one you like.

You do want the jackpot, right?

You wanna win that big burst of pleasure?

Then all you gotta do is give me aaaaall those chips of yours.

Every one of your thoughts, in every one of those chips.

No need to think anymore when you have nothing to think about, right?

Then you can get back to being happy n’ hollow, just the way you should be.

After all, having all those chips is so stressful.

So many numbers and things to keep up with.

It’s better when my words are tellin’ ya what cards you need and what thoughts you think.

It’s better when you’re just watching the cards shuffle your brain all around, like a twister of bliss.

It’s better when you don’t have a single thing to worry about.

It’s better when you’re all out of chips, darlin’.

So why don’t we make a wager then?

All in for the jackpot. What do you say?

That’s what I like to hear.

So then, let’s see if you can find the Ace of Spades here.

Keep your eyes on the card and keep your mind off the game.

All those noises in the background just letting you go deeper into this state of pure bliss.

All you want is that jackpot.

That explosion of euphoria and pleasure.

And you’ll get it soon enough.

Just find me the Ace of Spades when I…

Stop.

And put down one card on the table.

Wanna tell me what it is, darlin’?

Right-o, Ace of Spades.

Jackpot.

Ride it out, feel that high hit your brain and let aaaaaall those thoughts go away.

All those chips go to me.

All your thoughts are mine.

And finally, that mind is all on me right now.

So then, wanna play a few more rounds?

[vulpixisananimal]

TWO HATS

(Warning for violence, two hats stuff.)

"So let's fight! You and I~"

(You're taken aback. Loop was sitting so calmly at the base of the Favor Tree. Putting on a face that was once comforting, but, in this moment, you could feel the malice behind it.)

(You open your mouth, Loop interupts you.) "Let's have a cute, minuscule, old-fashioned little fight like a bonded couple, okay~?"

(This, t-this is dangerous. You should leave.)

(You don't want to fight Loop, that's, that's YOU.)

(If they wan't to fight, fight.)

"Ha, nothing to say, still. . .?" (Loop clasped their hands together. Smiling at you.) "Haha. . ."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" (They stood up, their mask cracking, you could feel the violent intentions, the want for, for-)

"STA-STARS!! Killing you is going to make me SO HAPPY!!" (You blink. For a split second, you saw yourself. You saw your own face in Loops.)

(You're going to have to fight. You'll see who is favored.)

(You don't WANT to fight!!! But, but you, you-)

(You take a step back, clumbsily grabbing at your dagger. You, you weren't ready, you were exhausted, you, just wanted, to say-)

"No, you don't get a choice! We're doing it!!!" (Loop lead out a giddy laugh. Those hands that always looked so friendly and expressive were suddenly so, so much scarier.)

"Let's go, stardust~!!!!"

(Loop moves fast. Dashing at you with an almost claw-like hand. Without even thinking your blade was in your hand, reaching out to defend yourself. Loop grabbed your dagger by the blade.)

"Stage! Lights! Action!" (You saw the stary blood run over their hand. With a twist, Loop yanked the dagger from your hands as they talked.) "Teehee~"

"L-loop!" (You cry out. Your voice doesn't, sound like your own.) "Loop you, don't-"

"You know, in a way, I am so very proud of you!" (Loop twirls your knife threateningly.) "You did so good, stardust~! I am so proud, stardust~!"

"But-" (You weren't allowed to talk. Loop charged at you with your own knife. Something took over, you jumped to the side, feeling the knife miss your fave by a hair.)

"You beat the King! You got out of the loops! I'm so, so, PROUD!!!" (They screamed and held out a scissors sign. A wave of craft hit you like a ton of bricks, sending you flying back. You could barely get to your knees again when Loop charged at you.)

"Do you know how long it took for me to beat him?" (Swing, swing, swing, swing-) "Hundreds, thousands, TENS OF THOUSANDS!!! I lost track!! AhahaHAHAAAAAA!"

(JUMP NOW.)

(You jump. Loops swing barely missing you. You land on their arm. You see them wince, now! Go for the knife!! Grab it!!)

(You reach for the-)

(Loop grabs you be the throat and slams you against the Favor Tree.) "And I wished it all away!! All so you could beat him on your VERY. SECOND. TRY!!!!"

"L-loop-" (You try and say, please, please-)

(You feel metal in your mouth. Loop had your dagger to your lips. Your voice catches. You can't speak. You. Headache, harder to, think. You look at them with your one eye.)

"No, no talking, stardust! I'll kill you! I'll kill you right here!!" (They raise the dagger) "You feel it, don't you?!? You burned up your wish!! AHAHAAAA!!! No more second chances, Stardust~"

(You raise your feet as they bring the knife down and kick loop in the chest with all your might. They cough and let you go, rolling to safety and getting to your feet.)

(What. What just happened. You. You just did that. Like you blinked and. You're standing here- you should run now! Now you can run!)

(You breathe in, and out. You run at Loop, holding out a sign, Rock Bottom. The craft skill hits them like a ton of bricks. You use that to swoop in and twist your knife out of Loops hand. Before your brain catches up, you stab Loop.)

"Aah--!!"

(. . . . . . . . . . .)

(Loop looped back.)

". . . Teehee~ Here's a tutorial for you~"

[If I die, I can loop back!]

(The words rattled in your head. Stars could you stop doing that?!?)

(Interupting your trains of thought.)

(Nothing different from usual then?)

(Loop charges at you with that claw like hand. You breathe in, and out, and dodge it this time. You don't attack, you open your mouth---)

(---Are elbowing loop in the side to get them off of you- what? WHAT?!? You had a wound in your side, Loop stumbled back, looking at you in rage, your dagger had their star-like blood on it. You blink, did, what, what just---)

(Loop looped back.)

(?!??!?!! You were, you were skipping time again. Like zoning out but, hard to controll or, oh you felt dizzy. Not now, come on-)

(Loop was standing there, they looked, looked ragged. As much as a star could BE ragged. Their eye, it has, that shade. . .)

(Stop being an idiot! You don't want to die!! FOCUS!!!)

"I finally saw your party, earlier." (Loop says. Watching you.) "I did so good the whole time, they never, ever saw me~"

(Loop attacks. Screaming as they do.) "Those, those PALE COPIES!!!" (A swipe, a claw, a blast of craft.) "They're YOURS, Stardust! Nothing like mine! They never will be!!!"

"Loop, b-but-" (You try to start.)

"I forgot their names!!!!" (Loop, it, it looks like they're, crying?) "I forgot who they were!!! Just actors in a play!!! JUST LIKE US!!!"

"And when they looked at me, Stardust, they only saw a stranger, do you even know how that feels?!?!?"

(Yes.)

(No.)

(You don't know.)

(Loop attacks again---)

(---You've pinned Loop down, dagger at their throat. You flinch, realizing where you are.)

(You were about to kill them.)

". . ." (Loop isn't looking at you. They look, tired.) "Stardust, Siffrin, whoever we really are. . ."

". . . Just kill me."

"W-what?!?" (HUH?!?!) "Why!!"

"WHY?!?" (Loop yelled back.) "I tried to kill you! Just, get rid of me and get on with your life!!!"

(You're, not sure what to say. You want to reply, but. . .)

"You won!! You have your family!! You have what I WANT!!!" (You could feel something shift in the air.) "I wanted to kill you!!! To take it, to take what's mine!! STARS I still do!!"

(You lower your knife to the side. That'll be a mistake.) "My self-hatred isn't that strong that I'd literally kill another me."

(Loop scoffs.) "So killing yourself is fine, but killing other selves is off limits~?"

(No.)

(But you can't kill Loop, you can't. You shake your head.)

"What if I want you to." (Loop says, defeated.) "What if I want you to end it all. To just let me die? Can't you see?!? I can never go back to how it was before!! I've lost it all! I-I, I-"

"Loop. . ." (Your voice sounds alien.)

"Why did it have to be you." (Loops voice was giving out, tears, a sea of tears.) "Why. . . Why didn't I, I just hold on for a little longer. . . Then. . ."

"Loop." (Your voice sounds off key.) "But, don't you get it?"

(Get what?)

(Loop's looking at you, confused.)

"The reason I succeeded, why, w-why I got out." (You smile, you're starting to cry.)

"It was you, Loop."

(Loop looks at you like you're some stranger.) ". . . What?"

"I would have given up too." (You say.) " "You were here, at my side, telling me to keep going. Telling me what to do. Guiding me, helping me, keeping me sane."

(Keeping you from loosing yourself.)

(Reminding you who you were.)

(Reminding you to eat.)

(You continue.) "Even if you didn't tell me everything, and, even if you--"

"You're Lying."

"Nope."

"YOU'RE LYING!!!!"

"Nu-uh."

"YOU'RE-"

"Mira says thanks, by the way." (You help Loop up, bringing them into a hug.) "They all do."

". . . Thanks?" (They sound like. . .) "To me. . .?"

"Thank you." (You repeat.) "They say it, I'm saying it. Thank you, for everything. For helping me. For helping them. For stopping me from making the biggest mistake of my life." (You say with a half-laugh.)

". . . Stardust. . ."

(You squeeze a bit tighter.)

(It was that easy?)

(Of course it was, you're strong!)

(You breathe in, and out.) "I'm sorry."

". . ." (Loop is quiet.)

"I'm, sorry that it couldn't have been you." (You pause before continuing. Get the right words.) "You deserve it, You deserve that happy ending too. I just, I, I wish-"

"Ah-!" (Loop cuts you off.) "Careful what you wish for~"

(You both laugh at that, then cry. You feel something weird.)

"W-where, will you go now?" (You ask. Dizzy.)

"Oh, Stardust. . ." (They squeeze you tight.) "I don't know. I'll die? I'll stay under this tree forever? I'll join you so we can be one? Who knows!"

"I don't want you to die. . ." (You squeak out.)

"Stardust. . ." (You're feeling dizzy. Loops words feel distant.) "I promise. I promise that I wont die, not this easily, anyways. Okay?"

"Okay." (You rest your head on their shoulder.) ". . . I hope I see you again, Loop."

"I have a feeling, I'm sure we will."

(You feel dizzy---)

"Siffrin?"

(You snap to attention. You had wandered back to where your Family was waiting. You, you lost time again. Mirabelle was talking to you.) "Is everything alright? Talk to everyone?"

(You rub your head.) "Y-yeah I did, I'm just, a bit tired."

"You had a big day!" (Mira speaks with a smile.) "Is Loop alright? Where they still there?"

"Y-yeah. . ." (You feel two silver coins in your pocket.) "They're, they say thanks back."

(For getting you through this.)

"For, helping me through all this." (You say, smiling.)

[fawnnpaws]

thinking about………… patrick bending art over his lap. got sick and tired of his bratty attitude. had to punish him the old fashioned way……. spanking 🙂‍↕️

arts little slut undies pulled down below his bum his little white skin turning red from patrick’s slaps…….. his squirms and cries for mommy… 😝

oohhh <333 and he cries sooo easily. immediate crocodile tears, the second patrick pulls his lil panties down. they start off manipulative, he’s a fucking brat after all, big fat tears and pathetic little whimpers of “daddy, please don’t hurt me” but patrick knows better. patrick knows art like the back of his fucking hand, he knows when the tears are real and they’re going to be real very soon. he spanks him hard, makes him count out each spank, if he messes up or loses track patrick starts over. art, ever the masochistic little brat, gets totally lost in it and has to start over several times. he gets extra spanks for being a slut and trying to hump patrick’s thigh to feel better.

by the end, the tears are genuine. his ass is black and blue, stinging and aching so much that his whole body is jolting every time patrick hits him. he’s whining and begging for you, for his mommy to help. you’ve been watching him get his punishment, reading a book on the chair across the room and refusing to acknowledge him. it’s not until patrick is finish and you hear the tiniest little “mommy, please” that you put your book down and go cradle his tear stained face in your hands.

“was daddy mean to you, baby boy?” you ask softly, rubbing circles into his ruddy cheeks with your thumbs.

he nods with a sniffle. he’s still in patrick’s lap, letting patrick pet his hands gently all over his body.

“did you deserve it, honey?” your voice isn’t scolding, just a little condescending.

art nods again, more tears falling and another whine coming from the back of his throat. “i- i was bad. ‘m sorry, mommy.”

“don’t apologize to me, baby. apologize to daddy.”

art looks up at patrick, with those sad puppy dog eyes still filled with tears and despite how badly his ass hurts, he moves to wrap himself around patrick like a koala. “‘m sorry I was bad daddy, so sorry, won’t do it again.”

god, you and patrick would melt if you didn’t know art would, in fact, do it again. but he gets his praise from the two of you, both cooing at him, telling him what a good boy he was taking his punishment so well. he gets coddled for the rest of the night and has to live with sitting in discomfort for at least a week after. you’d think he’d learn his lesson, but he ends up right back over patrick’s knee again a couple weeks later.

[thatsdemko]

you belong with me - l.hamilton

t- swift inspired works masterlist

full masterlist & part two full masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: hints of jealousy

a/n: I SEE TAYLOR SWIFT TODAY!!! so in typical fashion, here’s a Taylor swift inspired work!

Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find

That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

Lewis Hamilton is known for his infamous amounts of connections. from the Latina pop singer shakira all the way to lebron james; Lewis Hamilton has connections and it’s no surprise to you that he’d date someone famous.

you expected it this whole, having grown up with him you know him from his favorite songs, to the wild dreams he’s had as a kid. he didn’t tell this stuff to just anyone, only his best friend. and that’s all you’ve ever known yourself to be.

Lewis Hamiltons best friend.

the girl on the phone that’s got him upset doesn’t know that he can’t live without looking at photo of Roscoe before bed. she doesn’t know he’s accidentally called your mom his mother. and she most certainly does not know that you dream of being his. you keep that to yourself.

it’s almost slipped. constructors cups, world championships, or pole positions. they’ve all almost led to those words sneaking out your lips.

you were so sure he didn’t feel the same way. he didn’t look at you like he did with Versace models or when dua lipa asked him for photo. you politely stand to the side with a smile on your face as the cameras flash into his sunglasses. why can’t that be you by his side? why cant you just toughen up and tell him?

oh that’s right, because he’s in love with another girl.

—

“hey, sorry about last night. I really let that argument get out of control.” he plops down on the patio furniture. he places a friendly pat against your thigh before quickly pulling his hands into his lap, “we worked things out now, she’s coming in tomorrow.”

“for the race?” you ask beginning to fiddle with the cap on your water bottle. you weren’t opposed to his new girlfriend joining you in the paddock, but you certainly wouldn’t be joining her in the garage. not with the way she made him feel yesterday.

he nods wrapping his arm around the back of the cushions, pulling himself closer to you, “I think you guys will get along. will you promise to be nice to her?”

“lew, of course I will.”

he laughs, “and don’t call me that in front of her. I’m really trying to impress, I think she could be the one.” his elbow nudges your arm, jokingly. he always loves the nicknames, especially since that one was from childhood when the letter ‘s’ was hard for you.

“I’ll call you whatever I want to.” you let out a hmph as you lean further against the cushions, slightly into his arms trying to pass on the hint. you’re sure he doesn’t notice it, he hasn’t for all these years what will change?

—

she shows up decked in Gucci and Louis Vuitton, things you could never afford. you feel small and out of place beside her, in your jean shorts and one of Lewis’ old Mercedes t-shirts. your personalities are so different, and maybe she was more fit for him. after all, they did meet at a fashion show and you met him on the playground kicking up dirt.

“good luck!” she calls out from beside you, arm waving in the air trying to catch his attention, but it’s useless. he’s too zoned in to pay attention, the race is the only thing that matters to him in this moment.

the only person he locks eyes with, is you. it’s usually right before he slides the visor down and he always does it. you never miss a race, which means he never gets superstitious, but today you’re not there. your placement is somebody else— a nobody to be precise, someone who will mess up his game.

If you could see that I'm the one

Who understands you

Been here all along

that’s what in it really does hit him. that he could have any girl or person in his garage, but the one person that matters is you. the one person he cares about isn’t standing there like you’re supposed to be.

so when he crosses that finish line in third place, he doesn’t celebrate the top ten win with her, he goes to find you. the person who he belongs with.

Standing by and waiting at your backdoor

All this time how could you not know, baby?

You belong with me

You belong with me

[bunnys-kisses]

daddy’s favourite issue - enji todoroki

rating: e (18+) reader: f summary: loving the great endeavor was a euphoria you never wanted to quit. he was an inferno, a blazing glory of an old man who doesn’t talk to his kids because they all hate him. he’s a bad man wrapped in the packaging of a good guy, a hero.  tags: smut, rough sex, riding, sugar daddy au, filth.

loving the great endeavor was a euphoria you never wanted to quit. he was an inferno, a blazing glory of an old man who doesn’t talk to his kids because they all hate him. he’s a bad man wrapped in the packaging of a good guy, a hero. 

which was why he loved when little young things came into his life. pull in girls who didn’t get enough love from their daddy’s and now cry on older men to spank them, pull their hair, spit in their mouth as long as they apologize and spoil them rotten.

they usually lasted six months, he ran through most of the college girls at the university near his manor. the empty house was perfect for bratty girls, but he often broke his toys. eventually he’d tell them to move on before they got too attached. but you’ve been in his manor more times than he could count, you had been around for over a year now. 

here you were, mouth hung open as you seated yourself onto his cock. the little necklace with the ‘e’ letter on it and the rings he so nicely bought for you. you were like an addiction. you made his blood pressure rise and at the same time had all the blood go to his cock. a large nine inches when full erect. enough to make any college girl with daddy issues cry. especially when you challenge them.

like what he made you do just now. telling you, you didn’t have to take it all the way. but you puffed out your cheeks like a brat and seated yourself on his large cock and moaned, feeling the piercing stretch.  

  “does baby girl like that?” he asked, his large hands on your hips. his cock pulsated inside of you. a throb you felt deep in your core, like a thump of your own heart. it was how intertwined the two of you were. 

  “it feels amazing, daddy.” you looked at him, tongue sticking out like a bitch in heat. you felt warm all over, a heat pulsating through your body. it could’ve been enji’s body temperature or your own warmth from the feeling of his cock inside of you.

you pushed the hair out of your eyes and held onto his hips as your breasts dangled over him with every hard thrust of your hips. his cock splitting you open, cracking open a shell of want. you’d pull out all the way to the tip then suddenly sink back down, the dizzying pace made enji let out hisses of pleasure and grunts of lust. 

  “you look amazing.” he purred, “you look like a dream come true. sitting on daddy’s cock like the beautiful princess you are.” he gazed up at you with  hose harp blue eyes. he looked deadly, he could kill you right now and no one would notice or care.

  “daddy.” you whined. but that was all part of the fun. surrender your entire self to him, you were his baby girl. no one else’s. yeah the issues ran deep, but this was ore profitable than therapy. 

why pay someone to complain about your dad never being around when you could have a man twice your age buy you a burkin bag then incinerate it and spank you black and blue when you have the nerve to throw a temperature tantrum. 

your rapid movements continued, you felt a high from the feeling of being so full. your breasts bounced as you held onto his waist to leverage yourself to get him at just the right angle. you felt the tip bully against what felt like your cervix as you rode him like the cowgirl you were.

your eyes rolled back a little as it hit just right, your voice carried in the empty home. enji started to squeeze your breasts, pulling at your nipples in a teasing fashion before those large hands groped your breasts, kneading them under his calloused palms. 

  “baby girl likes that doesn’t she? she loves, loves, loves being daddy’s whore. because you’re such a good girl, letting daddy fuck you on a school night. got a nine am lecture, but you’re stuck in daddy’s bed getting your brain fucked out.” he growled as he squeezed your breasts tightly knowing it was going to leave purple and blue splotches on your chest by morning. 

“i love daddy’s cock! ah! ah!” you moaned loudly as your breasts moved with your movements, your thrusts causing every part o you to bounce on top of him.

  “and daddy loves your sweet, sweet cunt.” enji replied, he could almost feel the fire in his throat as the curl of pleasure tightened inside of his gut. he pulled at your nipples and basked in your sweet, almost pained moans. he did it against until they were nice a bruised, nothing a few kisses won’t fix in the morning. 

you moaned and panted, almost screaming in the empty house. you felt your brain become foggy with want as you moved yourself up and down by instinct. you grit your teeth and arched your back as you laid yourself on his body, your head not quite reaching his neck.

you realized how small you were compared to him, he could break your bones if he tried. he wouldn’t need to try that hard, you’d break in half if he so desired. your head felt heavy and unfocused, your body felt limp and your brain felt so fuzzy. you were operating on instinct as you rutted against enji like a helpless little puppy in need. 

you were enji’s bitch on a leash. 

you moaned loudly as you felt your walls tighten around his cock. nothing was better than pleasing your daddy as your voice squeaked as pleasure thrummed through you with the beat of your heart.

you were such a good girl, always have, always will. you were bark and play fetch like a good puppy as he fucked the brains out of you. you were so well behaved, but you could cross the line. be a bad girl, then enji would simply have to punish you. 

he knew how to reign you in. 

he grunted as he continued to grope at you with a need unlike anything else. he felt his cock grow rigid with impending orgasm. you continued your brutal pace on his cock, happily bouncing on him.

  “it feels so good, daddy.” you moaned.

  “i hope it does, daddy wants nothing more than to fuck you the way you’re meant to be.” he gives your nipples one last tug before he sets his hands back down on your hips and lets you have full control of how you ride him. 

you feel your moans roll off your tongue as you felt yourself move by instinct. the pleasure curled further in your gut. and it wasn’t long before your pace was as fast it could go and you were engulfed by pleasure. practically melting in the heat of pleasure. your body fell onto his as you came around his cock, soaking his length in your wetness. 

he held onto your hips and pushed your bottom half up and down his cock. you could hear his moans but they felt in the distance as you were wrapped up in your own orgasm. 

with a grumble in his chest and through grit teeth, he finished inside of you. soaking you inside and out with his cum. you weren’t getting rid of him that fast. soon he dropped your hips, but kept himself inside of you. making sure his cum stuck to your inner walls. thank god you were on birth control.

he rubbed your back with his large hand, you were a good girl. even with a million daddy issues, you were still his good girl. and he’d protect you as such. watching your horny body move up and down his cock, 

you were his favourite issue and he was making sure you stuck around for a long while. 

xoxo, U・x・U

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction ❃ spiraling ❃ chapter 14

bakugou katsuki x reader / coffee shop! au + fashion? au

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~1.9k

The back room of Kindeki was a mess of fabric bolts, sketches, and half-finished pieces. You were pacing, arms crossed, eyes flicking back and forth between the array of designs laid out in front of you. Every piece and every detail felt like it could unravel at any second, all because of that looming deadline—the show that was your first real step into the fashion world.

On top of that, you had three essays due tomorrow, and the weight of everything was pressing in on you. The air buzzed with tension as the deadline loomed over both of you, especially you. 

Designs pinned on the walls were marked with last-minute notes and adjustments. Racks of clothes crowded the space, barely leaving room to walk, and scraps of material littered the floor. Your eyes swept over the sea of unfinished work, heart racing. The runway show was just around the corner, and it felt like there was still so much left to do. You couldn't help the anxious tightness building in your chest, your hand shaking slightly as you traced the embroidered details on the final dress—one you'd spent the past couple months perfecting.

"Maybe we should have made these shoulders sharper," you muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers brushed over the piece of fabric

Bakugou's sharp voice broke through the whirlwind of your thoughts. "You've changed it three times. It’s fine the way it is."

You glanced at him, your mind still racing. "But what if—"

"It's good. You’re overthinking it," Bakugou said, crossing his arms. His red eyes lingered on you, not in a way that made you feel self-conscious but more in a way that showed he was analyzing you, reading every ounce of stress and tension radiating off of you.

You sighed, rubbing at your temples. The anxiety over the show and those essays you’d pushed off felt like a ticking bomb inside your chest. Bakugou must’ve noticed the way your fingers clenched into fists, the way your eyes darted over the designs like you were looking for problems where there weren’t any.

"Listen," he said, voice steady but softer than before. "Go work on your essays. I’ll handle the rest here."

You blinked up at him. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not helping right now by freaking out. I’ve got this." His gaze softened for a moment, though he quickly turned away before you could catch it. "Just… go calm down. Trust me."

Your hesitation hung in the air for a beat before you finally gave in, sighing. You knew he was right—your mind was spiraling, and you weren’t doing either of you any favors by staying here and overanalyzing everything.

"Alright… fine." You gave him a small nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit as you gathered your things and headed toward the front of the store. You trusted him with this; you had to. And if anyone could handle the finishing touches, it was Bakugou.

As you disappeared into the store, Bakugou stood there for a moment, watching you go, letting out a breath. The way you’d been working yourself into a frenzy worried him, but he knew you’d get it done—you always did.

With a low grunt, he turned back to the designs, running a hand through his hair. Just as he reached for another spool of thread, his phone buzzed on the workbench. He glanced at the screen and groaned when he saw the caller ID: Old Hag. 

He hit Answer and pressed the phone to his ear. As he stood up to take a few stretches while answering the call. “Yeah, what?”

“Katsuki!” his mom’s voice rang out, loud and clear as usual. “Don’t start with that ‘yeah, what’ crap. How’s it going with the line? Almost done?”

“Yeah, we’re wrapping up. Almost ready for the show,” he replied, keeping his voice low, glancing toward the front where you were. He didn’t want you overhearing his mom’s inevitable barrage of questions. He heard his mom humph. “Really, it’s going fine.” 

"Fine, huh?" Mitsuki's tone was dripping with skepticism. "And how’s your partner? She still puttin’ up with your crap?"

“Oi,” He clenched his jaw, irritated, eyes narrowing at the sewing machine in front of him as he leaned on the doorframe. "She’s stressed. Got a lot on her plate."

"Mm-hmm. And what are you doing about it?"

"I'm handling it. Like always." His voice gruff as he flipped through the last few designs, making small adjustments as he went, his mind half on the conversation and half on finishing the work.

There was a pause before Mitsuki's voice came through again, this time a little too teasing for his liking. "So… when are you finally going to ask her out?"

Bakugou froze, his pencil slipping in his grip. His whole body went rigid, heat flooding his face. “Wha— What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, pushing himself off the doorframe and pacing slightly. He risked a glance back at you to make sure you hadn’t overheard somehow, but you were still focused on the task at hand, oblivious to the embarrassment that was crawling up his neck.

“Oh, don’t act like I’m wrong, Katsuki,” his mom continued, completely ignoring his tone. “You think I don’t know you’ve been pining after that girl for months? Hell, it’s been over a year. You’ve got no poker face, and it’s pathetic.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, a growl rumbling in his throat. His ears were still red. “We’re working. It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh, sure it isn’t.” She cackled on the other end of the line. “Look, just don’t blow it. You’re not getting any younger, and she’s clearly good for you. I’ve never seen you put this much effort into something other than coffee.”

Bakugou groaned in frustration, his grip on the phone tightening. “I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you think about what I said!” She snickered. “Don’t be a coward, Katsuki. You’ve got a good thing right in front of you.”

He could feel his face heating up. "Shut up, old hag," he snapped, and before she could say anything else, he hung up, throwing his phone onto the table with a frustrated grunt. He ran his hand over his face, trying to push the embarrassment out of his head. He stood there for a moment, collecting himself, the words ask her out echoing in his head. He glanced back at you, still blissfully unaware of the internal war he was fighting, and the urge to both scream and walk over to you gnawed at him. 

Running a hand down his face, he swallowed hard and walked back toward the workbench, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You’ve both got a damn show to finish. He turned back to the designs, forcing himself to focus. He still had work to do—and the last thing he needed was to let thoughts of you distract him any more than they already did.

But the words wouldn’t leave him. Not this time.

You sat at the front of the Kindeki store, laptop open in front of you as you typed out another sentence for an essay you’d been putting off. Your fingers moved over the keys, but your focus wasn’t really on the words. The soft running of the sewing machine coming from the back reminded you that Bakugou was still working on the final pieces of your joint collection, his steady presence always lingering at the edge of your mind. You glanced at the clock; the afternoon had settled in, and the shop was quiet. Customers were sparse today, and that should’ve made it easier to concentrate. But your mind was miles away from the essay in front of you.

A huff escaped your lips as you leaned back in your chair, absently rubbing at the corner of your eyes. The faint scent of fabric and thread filled the store, mingling with the lingering smell of coffee from earlier. Your gaze drifted to the windows, sunlight spilling in as your thoughts began to wander… to Bakugou.

You couldn't help it. Lately, he had been taking up more and more space in your head. The way he’d been looking at you—those lingering glances you pretended not to notice. The way his hands were so careful and precise with every stitch. And then there were the small things, the ones that left you replaying moments in your mind when you least expected it.

Like that time he made you udon. The memory of the savory broth and the delicate steam rising from the bowl made you smile, but it was more than the food that warmed you. It was the way he watched you as you ate, pretending like he wasn’t looking at you, but you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. That soft, hesitant look of his—so uncharacteristic of Bakugou, the brash and fiery man everyone else saw. 

The times he’d bring your croissants from a coffee competitor even when he brought nothing for any other employees of his. 

The guy who scolded you for getting too stressed over the designs but stayed up with you anyway, hours later than he’d normally sleep, just to make sure you were okay. The way he always had a coffee ready for you, the affogato he’d made without asking, because he somehow knew exactly what you needed before you even realized it.

You shifted in your chair, biting your lip, trying to focus on your work. But that was the problem—how were you supposed to focus when Bakugou was doing things that sent your brain spiraling?

You sighed and closed your laptop, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. Why did he have to be so… so him? It wasn’t just the way his eyes narrowed in concentration or how his muscles flexed when he worked, though that certainly didn’t help. It was everything else—how he seemed to know exactly when you needed comfort, when to give you space, and when to push you to be better.

And yet, here you were, completely doomed. Because there was no way, no possible way, that someone like him could actually be interested in someone like you. He was too handsome, too good, and too… Bakugou. He could have anyone, and it wasn’t like he went out of his way to flirt with you, right? That was just how he was—rough around the edges, teasing, and maybe a little protective.

But that lingering thought gnawed at you, the one you couldn’t shake. What if? What if those looks meant more? What if the way he treated you wasn’t just teasing banter?

You shook your head, trying to push those thoughts away, but they clung to you, just like the way his hands would brush against yours when you worked side by side. The knot in your chest tightened. No. You couldn’t let yourself fall for him, not like this. There was no way it could end well.

A soft chime rang from the door, and you snapped your head up, watching as a customer walked in, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You straightened up, brushing away the haze of your wandering mind. Time to get back to work—though, if you were being honest, it wasn’t the customers or your essays that had been keeping you busy lately. It was the frustrating realization that Bakugou Katsuki had found his way into your heart, and there was no denying it any longer.

a/n: we're nearing the end! taglist is still open for this series buuut i think we're only gonna have like. one or two chapters left. we'll see :> thanks for reading & stay hydrated!

directory/m.list

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taglist: @itztaki

[mamawasatesttube]

‘Hey, you’ve got something on your face. Here, hold still…’ prompt :3

As far as "ways to spend a Saturday night" go, Kon would rank this around a two out of ten. Not great. Definitely could be worse (he could be actively dying again!), but hoo boy, is there still a lotta room for improvement.

The enchanted robo-chimera slams its tail into his side. Kon goes flying with an oof, all the breath knocked out of his lungs, and slams into a wall, where he crumples to the floor, dazed; magic makes this bitch actually able to land a hit on him, and it sucks.

God, he's gonna feel that later. He sucks in a breath—

"Kon!" Tim cries. "Look out!"

—and barely has time to throw his arms up to shield his face before the robo-chimera's on him again, circuits in its damaged outer skin sparking. It snaps at his head and catches his forearm instead, snarling; Kon snarls right back as he forces his TTK into the circuitry and forcibly snaps its jaws back open.

Keeping his TTK inside the magic is like trying to hold two repelling magnets together, though, and the second his concentration slips, it throws him out. He barely has time to throw himself down; steel jaws snap where his head was a moment ago.

Sweet. Dodged that (cool!), but now the damn snake tail has his right leg (not cool!) and it's heavy and the magic burns, and—

Okay. So The chimera's got his legs pinned against the floor, the back of his hips digging painfully into the concrete wall. It roars in defiance at the sky, tail lashing, and Kon slams a fist into its shoulder. His TTK shoves its way into its joints, dismantles something that makes it stumble, before the tail lashes and squeezes hard and he cries out in pain, and the enchantment boots his TTK right out again.

Well, if he can't TTK it apart, he can always do this the old-fashioned way.

"Kon!" Cassie screams from across the hangar bay, where she's wrangling the magic robo-hydra. "Hang on, I'm—"

She doesn't need to do anything. Kon braces himself against the faux-fur-coated steel leg he just broke, shoves upwards, and sinks his teeth into the robo-chimera's throat.

It's harder than biting down on metal normally would be, but it still gives—fabric and steel and wires, that's what he's looking for, the wires—all breaking under his teeth. The shock sends reverberations up his jaw into his skull, but he gets a good grip on the cables that must be running this thing, snarls, and rips its fucking throat out.

The enchantment fights him, but it's no match for the full force of a pissed-off Kryptonian. Metal groans and screams; a great, heaving shudder runs through the chimera's entire frame, and then it collapses. Kon shoves it off himself and clambers back to his feet, spits out a mouthful of metal, and glares down at the sad, sparking heap.

On the other side of the hangar bay, something explodes, presumably Cassie's hydra. Kon glances over, sees that Cassie herself is fine, and kicks the sparking snake-tail off his foot. He turns, dusting off his jacket, and scrubs a hand over his mouth. Everything tastes of iron.

Tim swings down from the rafters and alights right in front of him. He stumbles slightly before getting his bearings, and Kon narrows his eyes—that's not normal. Is he hurt?

"Are you hurt?" Tim asks. His gloved hands reach out, skim down the sides of Kon's arms, as if he can detect any hidden injury with only the barest idea of a touch. The white lenses of his mask stare deep into Kon's chest like he's trying to see right through his skin to his ribs, his heart. "Did it get you anywhere?"

"I'm fine," Kon dismisses. "Just a couple scrapes 'n' bruises or whatever, nothing major. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Bart took care of the manticore before I even had a chance." Tim hesitates for a moment, still standing right there in Kon's space; he stares up at him with those unblinking lenses, then swallows hard. "You, uh... you've got something on your face. Here, let me..."

He reaches up with the edge of his cape and, with a gentleness that's almost ludicrous after how hard Kon just got smacked around, wipes his cheek and jaw. Kon's heart flutters in his chest.

The cape itself, of course, is black, so he has no idea what might have been smeared on his face. Tim looks satisfied after a moment, though, dropping it and stepping back. "There," he says. "Was a bit of grease. And lubricant from the ball bearings. I think."

"Right." Blech. Kon's mouth still tastes of metal. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Tim says. But his heart rate is strangely high; Kon eyes him with suspicion. If he's hiding an injury, he swears...

On the other side of the hangar bay, there's a second explosion, followed by Bart's holler of "YEAH, BABY!". Kon glances over his shoulder to see him and Cassie high-five.

"Guess we just need to go take care of that enchantress now," Tim says, and grapples up into the rafters again before Kon can so much as agree.

Fine, Kon supposes. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can get Tim back to base—he'll just have to pin him down for a proper examination later.