#i also barely look different but i look just different enough that I Know and it's fucking with me

[southerngothicchic]

we're too young to be lonely (part one)

King!Steve Harrington x reader (18+)

This is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year that I felt could be improved upon 💖

The King of Hawkins High had made a habit of climbing through your bedroom window every Friday night. His visits started out innocent enough, with you both commiserating about the past week of school and maybe sharing a kiss or two.

As weeks went on, and as both of your crushes grew, sweet kisses turned into steamy makeouts. He would murmur how pretty you were into your neck as he tried not to leave any hickies, though he desperately wanted to.

He wanted everyone to know you were his, but wasn't sure if you wanted to belong to him, outside of your bedroom.

It was a typical Friday night, with you laying in bed, waiting for Steve. The radio hums lowly while the dim light from your bedside lamp illuminates the room. You keep glancing up from the latest issue of Seventeen every few minutes to check the digital display of the clock on your nightstand. He's usually here by now, you think, as you're beginning to think he's not going to show.

If something changed he would've let you know, right? A horrible thought then enters your mind making you wonder if he's lost interest in you and found someone else to spend the night with. You glance at the window again before shaking your head.

After all the nights you spent together, you knew he wouldn't do that to you. At this point, you knew him better than his 'best friends' or anyone else at school did. He was different when he was with you, so sweet and attentive, you almost forgot about his famous persona.

As you wrack your brain for answers, you hear a familiar tapping on your window. You look over and see his silhouette crouching outside the glass.

With a relieved smile, you get up and cross the short distance to let him in.

He greets you with a smile and a soft, "Hi," before he climbs into your room. You feel his arms around your waist as you quietly close the window. You turn, in his arms, to face him, still with a smile on your lips.

"I was starting to think you stood me up," you say, now with a slight pout.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, nuzzling his nose against yours. "My parents came home early so I had to wait til they went to bed to sneak out."

"Oh," you breathe, as he ghosts his lips over yours.

"Did you really think I'd miss a chance to see my best girl?"

You sigh his name, already under his spell in record time.

"I missed you," he whispers before finally kissing you.

You eagerly kiss him back, wanting to make up for all the lost time spent not kissing the cutest boy you'd ever seen.

"I missed you, too," you reply, breathless with your fingers gripping the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"I can tell," he softly laughs. "Maybe we should extend these visits to more than just one night."

You glance up at him, with a hopeful shimmer in your eyes, that makes him weak.

"You really like me that much?" You ask, earning another soft laugh from him.

"I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't," he replies, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. "You're, like, the only real friend I have."

"Is that how you see me, just as a friend?"

His eyes widen in panic as he stumbles through his reply: "No, I mean, at first, yeah, but not now. I like you more than that."

His thumb tenderly brushes your cheek as a goofy smile forms on your lips.

"So you like me like me, then?"

"I thought it was obvious, but yeah, I do," he also smiles, as he leans in to kiss you again.

You sigh his name against his lips as he guides you towards your bed. He smoothly slips off his Nike's before laying you back onto your sheets, all without breaking the kiss. His denim clad thighs press against your bare legs, making you feel extra vulnerable. He subtly spreads your legs with his knee, so he can nestle his hips between them. You gasp into a kiss when he grinds teasingly.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you liked that..." he pants, between kisses. "You wanna feel more of me?"

You nod, while whimpering a soft, "Yes."

"Okay, honey," he smiles, gently taking your hand and placing it between your bodies, against his growing bulge.

"Want you to feel what you do to me..." he breathes, as he nips at the tender skin under your jaw.

You palm him through his jeans before squeezing slightly. He moans into your neck as his hips chase your touch.

Moments like these still feel so surreal to you. Having Steve Harrington in your room was one thing, but touching him like this was something else entirely. Feeling him through denim wasn't enough, you wanted more.

You pull him into another kiss while your hand moves to unbutton his jeans. You feel him shudder when your fingertips graze his skin. You tease him through his briefs at first, before slipping your hand under the waistband. He whines against your lips as he feels your fingers wrap around him.

"Mmm, fuck..." he breathes, while you slowly stroke him. "I've dreamt about this."

"Have you?" You ask, between kisses.

"Yeah, been wanting you to touch me like this," he whispers, desperately trying to keep his voice down. "Its all I can think about most days."

You smile into his kiss, feeling truly desirable for the first time in your life.

"You're all I think about most days," you quietly reveal before kissing him again, muffling another moan.

He pulls away, and sighs your name, already looking completely wrecked.

"If you keep on, I'm gonna-" he warns, before your hand stills. "And I don't want to yet, not like this."

"What are you...?"

"I wanna go all the way with you," he whispers, gazing into your eyes.

"Steve..." you breathe, his name the easiest thing for your mind to latch onto, as his admission has you reeling.

"Only if you want to," he adds. "I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do."

You notice how he's looking at you, with such sincerity and adoration, it's almost overwhelming.

"I want to," you softly reply, holding his gaze.

He smiles. "Yeah?"

You nod. "Just... not here, not with my parents down the hall..."

"You could always come over to my house," he offers, leaning in close. "My parents should be going out of town again soon and we'd have the place to ourselves."

"I actually have a better idea," you reply, with a smile. "I just remembered mine are going to a dinner party tomorrow night and will most likely be gone for most of the night."

"That is much better," he agrees, his lips brushing yours. "We can have our first, proper date then."

He feels you smile against his lips before you whisper, "Yeah, we can."

He pulls away, for a moment, so he can admire the sight below him.

"I really like this," he compliments, lightly dragging his finger along the collar of your silky pajama top.

"I was hoping you would," you quietly reply, as you watch his eyes darkening.

"Is it okay if I...?" He then asks, his fingers already gripping the top button.

Your eyes meet his as you nod. "I want you to feel more of me, too."

He leans forward again, pressing his lips to yours, as his skilled fingers unbutton your top. The lightest scratch of his nails against your stomach makes you shiver. He pulls away slightly to marvel at you again, and suddenly you feel too exposed. The look on his face instantly reassures you, as it's one of awe.

"You're so fuckin' gorgeous," he laments, leaning in close.

He nuzzles his nose along your jaw, before trailing kisses down your neck. You pull your hand from his jeans and curl it into his hair as he kisses his way to your collarbone. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as he places wet kisses against your breast. His mouth has your back arching into him, as his teeth barely scrape your nipple. He flicks his tongue over it and you have to keep yourself from screaming.

He's presses himself against you, unable to keep from grinding, as you feel how hard and big he is.

"Fuck, I can't wait til tomorrow night..." he pants, words almost muffled by your skin. "...When I can kiss you like this while I'm buried deep inside you."

You whimper his name and he thinks it's his new favorite sound.

"You still want that too, right?" He asks, glancing up at you, his amber eyes alight with desire.

You nod, as your pretty, pink lips part with a gasp. He tries to hide his smirk before raising his head so he can kiss you again.

The way he kisses you is so deep and romantic, its unlike anything you've ever felt before. Your thoughts melt into a dreamy haze, as the only constants are how you feel about him and how he's making you feel. It's a moment seemingly frozen in time that you never want to leave.

"Can I feel more of you?" He breathily asks, with his hand hovering over the waistband of your matching silky shorts.

You hesitate, trying to catch your breath as you gaze up at him. Your hand grips his sleeve as you struggle to answer him.

"It's okay if it's too much. We don't have to -" He comforts before you interrupt him.

"I want you to touch me. I've dreamed about this, too," you admit, as a familiar heat rises to your cheeks.

"I want you to tell me about all the filthy dreams you've had about me," he smiles, as his fingertips lightly glide across your stomach.

"I might, someday," you smile, in return, pulling him into another kiss.

You feel him smiling against your lips before deepening the kiss.

He slips his hand into your shorts, and presses the pads of his fingers against the thin cotton of your panties. He softly moans when he feels how wet you are.

"You must really like me," he whispers, as he teases you with his finger.

"I do," you breathe.

"Want me to make you feel good?" He asks, pressing harder.

"Y-Yes, Steve, please..." You almost don't recognize your own voice as you've never heard it sound so desperate.

"Fuck, I'll do anything for you, honey," he replies, his own voice ragged as he slips his hand into your panties.

He slowly eases his finger inside you while his mouth hovers over yours. He whimpers over how tight you are as he begins to pump it in and out. Your eyes are already rolling back at how different and good he feels compared to you.

"Look at me, honey," he quietly commands, nudging the tip of your nose with his. "Want you to keep your eyes on me when we're like this."

You nod, obediently, as your hands claw at his sweatshirt again. His kisses are a little rougher as he adds another finger. He's already losing himself in you, in wanting to make you feel so good, you'll never want anyone else.

You body trembles underneath him, as you fight to kiss him back with the same intensity. You whine his name repeatedly against his lips and he can't help the smug look on his face as he says, "I know it's good now, but imagine how much better it'll feel when I'm actually fucking you."

You finally break eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. His lips are instantly on yours, quieting your continued cries of his name. Your fingers now curl around his wrist as his movements slow. He pulls away just enough, and once your eyes meet his, you smile so warmly at him. He leans in again and covers your face in kisses.

"You really are my best girl," he laments, gazing at you with total adoration.

It mirrors how he was looking at you earlier, but there's something new in his eyes. It's a hint of something more, something deeper that he can't find the words for yet.

He stays with you for the next few hours, as you just lay holding each other, before drifting off to sleep. You wake him up sometime before sunrise and tell him he should get home. He whines, tightening his arms around you before getting up.

You stand next to your window, with his arms around you again as he gives you a lingering goodbye kiss.

After watching his taillights fade into the early morning air, you climb back into bed with a smile. You close your eyes, your thoughts consumed with being his girl, before sleep overtakes you again.

[locomoqo]

Could we get something related to gun trying to convince the reader who he loves to stay with him. Reader is conflicted with her feelings because she loves him but she’s aware of his job and how dangerous it is for the both of them. Angst & comfort please!

love me like a sailor

— gun park x reader

details: angst with comfort, established relationship

A/N: 1.2k words whewww, also i hope i did gun's personality justice here🥹 i rlly do believe he'd soften around someone he loves (i have a feeling this didnt come off as angsty as i wanted it to be bleh)

The room is dimly lit, shadows stretching long across the floor as the evening light fades behind heavy curtains. Gun stands in front of you, his usually impassive face softened by an emotion he rarely shows—vulnerability. The tension between you both is almost suffocating, a thick silence hanging between breaths. Your heart is heavy with the weight of a decision you don’t want to make.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper. You clutch your arms, holding yourself together because you’re afraid that if you let go, you’ll fall apart. You look up at him, eyes filled with the conflict that’s been tearing at you for weeks. He’s been distant lately, lost in the chaos of his work, and you can’t pretend any longer that it doesn’t scare you.

Gun’s jaw tightens, his usually stoic expression cracking for a brief second. There's a flicker of something fragile in his eyes. He steps forward, a little too quickly, as if he's scared you might vanish. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” he says, his voice quiet and distant—just like it always is.

You meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with unshed tears, hating that he makes it sound so simple. “But for how long?” you ask, your voice breaking. “You’re always chasing danger, always fighting, always risking everything. I can’t... I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t tear me apart every time you walk out that door.” The words spill out of you, each one a stab to your own heart. You hate how weak you sound, how vulnerable. But you can’t help it. You can’t stop loving him.

Gun’s brows furrow, his usual mask slipping as he takes a step closer. He towers over you, but there’s a gentleness in his eyes that contradicts his imposing presence. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for you but stops, hovering with uncertainty as if he’s not sure he has the right to touch you anymore. “I don’t know how to be different,” he admits, his voice raw and low, twisting your heart. It's true, fighting has become part of who he is, it's all he's ever known. “This is who I am. But if it means losing you, I’ll—”

“No,” you interrupt, shaking your head, feeling tears sting at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your edge. I don’t want to be your weakness.”

You see frustration flare in his eyes, the helplessness he fights so hard to conceal. His hands drop to his sides, curling into fists as he takes a shaky breath. “Do you think I want to be this way?” he asks, his voice suddenly fierce, desperation cutting through his words. “Do you think I don’t know what it does to you every time I leave? I’m trying, damn it, but I can’t just walk away from who I am. I’ve built my life around this, and I can’t change it, not overnight.”

He stretches his hand out, catching yours before you can pull away. There's an urgency in his grip—an unspoken plea hidden beneath his cold facade. The anger fades from his face, replaced by something hollow and broken. “You’re not my weakness,” he insists, his hold firm but gentle. “You never have been. You’re the only person who makes me want to be better. For you.” He swallows, eyes locked on yours. “I know it’s dangerous. I won’t lie to you about that. But I can protect you. I will protect you.”

Your heart aches at the sincerity in his voice, but you know it’s not enough. You pull your hand back, wiping away a tear before it can fall. “What if something happens to you?” you ask, your voice cracking. “What if I lose you?”

Gun’s expression tightens, and he reaches for you again, his hands settling on your shoulders with surprising gentleness. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” he says firmly, his voice steady, as if daring fate to contradict him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He almost adds, “Not if it means leaving you,” but the words die in his throat.

“...I don’t want to leave,” you say, your voice hoarse, and it’s the truth. You don’t want to lose him. You don’t want to be without the man who’s somehow become the most important part of your life, the one who knows you better than anyone else. “But I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself either.” Your voice wavers, and you turn away as a sob escapes before you can choke it down.

Gun’s fingers gently tilt your chin back, his touch tender in a way that takes you by surprise. “Look at me,” he commands, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard. You meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see the raw fear in his eyes—the fear of losing you. “I’m not asking you to ignore the danger. I’m asking you to stay with me.”

Your chest tightens, and you shake your head as tears finally spill over. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you admit, your voice barely audible.

Gun’s hands come up to cup your face, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate. His touch is achingly gentle, his thumb brushing away the tears that fall down your cheeks. “Then don’t watch,” he says, his voice teetering on desperation. “Let me be the one who takes the risks. I’ll handle it. I’ll handle everything if it means I can keep you by my side.” His voice is so soft, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Isn’t that enough?” His eyes, usually so cold and distant, search yours, desperate for any sign that you might stay.

For a moment, all you can hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, each thud echoing in your ears. The tears come faster now, and you let yourself lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palms against your skin. There’s a sadness in his gaze that cuts you to the core, but there’s also hope—a fragile, flickering flame that refuses to die.

Your hands tremble as you cling to the fabric of his shirt, your fingers curling into the material. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice breaking, “but I’m scared, Gun. I’m so scared.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. His hold is firm and unwavering, like he’s trying to shield you from the world itself. “Then be scared,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, “but don’t go.”

It's the first time you’ve ever heard him beg, and it shatters something inside you. You stay there, wrapped in the security of his embrace. He’s far from perfect, and so are you, but in this moment, you find a sort of peace—a hope that, maybe, love is enough.

Gun pulls back slightly, his hands still cradling your face as he stares at you with an intensity that steals your breath. “Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough and desperate. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You don’t know what the future holds, or if his promise is one he can keep, but in this moment, as his thumb gently brushes your cheek, you find yourself nodding, your resolve crumbling in the face of the man you love. Gun exhales shakily, a soft, relieved sound, and pulls you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck. For the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe—just maybe—everything will be okay.

[goingmerryfics]

Reader fails at flirting - Mihawk, & Crocodile

Content: SFW content, clumsiness, ranting, & bad pick up lines

Notes* Thank you for your patience while I struggled through my writer’s block! This was a request from a looong time ago but I no longer have that ask to reply to it seems. I believe Smoker was also supposed to be here, but I’m just going to upload this and take it easy while I get back into the writing spirit :) 

Mihawk

Not the type for talking, attempts at flirting with Mihawk usually end up with long, awkward silences that you feel the need to fill, which makes you sound even more awkward as you bounce from topic to topic

He was always the first to show up at the Warlord meetings, and since you worked in the building, it gave you an opportunity to chat him up as you pour the champagne for each guest

He only barely glances at you every now and then as you try to get his attention, ranting on about whatever comes to mind in the moment and asking him questions that he doesn’t respond to

You always end up feeling defeated at the end of the day. Always left with the heavy feeling that he just doesn’t like you, no matter what you say

Eventually you decide that you can’t keep pestering him. Next time there’s a meeting, you decide not to shoot into chatter with him when he arrives

You keep your head down, silence in the room. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk around, watering the plants and doing whatever you can do to stay in his presence without having to talk to him

And then,

“Is something wrong?”

You’re embarrassed by how fast you look back at him. It’s the first time he’s addressed you. You, stuttering like mad, tell him that nothing is wrong

“You didn’t greet me today.”

He sounds… Disappointed. You ask him why he never responded, adding that you thought you had been annoying him, and that you weren’t even sure he knew who you were

Then he says your name- your full one. He starts to repeat information you’ve told him about yourself, a mix of information that you had thrown at him over all the different times you’ve met him. It touches your heart that he remembers it all

“I know who you are very well, actually. If you gave me a moment to think of my answers, I would have been able to share. You speak too quickly.”

He explains it so bluntly, but now that you think about it- you didn’t really give him much time to think before you moved on to the next subject. So the awkward silences were just Mihawk trying to put his words together

He urges you to take a seat beside him, that way he can finally give you the responses you were looking for

“You should try to let the other person respond if you’re going to flirt with them.” 

He says it almost scoldingly, but he’s smirking at you

Crocodile

As a citizen of Alabasta, Crocodile was someone that many people looked up to. But only you were in semi-regular contact with him

Every now and then, he would come dine at your workplace and every single time, you were his server. Your co-workers were always too intimidated to potentially get something wrong- the man was intimidating, after all -so that meant that anytime he was in, you were the one to face him

He always ordered the same thing when he came, which made it easier after a while. You’d already be walking up to his table with the wine he liked while his food was in the oven before he’d even made his order

The problem was that your ridiculous crush on him made you clumsy as hell

The first few times you were safe- the tripping over your feet and dropping plates had only happened out of his view, where it was your co-workers that would laugh or chastise you for not being careful enough

But then it had caught up to you in the worst way

You were taking the wine to his table and, as always, you engaged him in some casual conversation. Something about the weather or asking how his casino was doing

He would always answer shortly. Something of a grunt that either sounded positive or negative, or a short answer of ‘good’ or ‘eh’

You were too busy staring at him and waiting for an answer to notice that you were completely missing the glass as you poured his wine

And in turn, he was too surprised at your new, sudden carelessness to answer

Eventually you’d noticed as the wine started to spill onto the floor. Crocodile got up from his chair as you scrambled to get the spill contained to just the tablecloth, but also trying to be careful of all the glass on the table

The white tablecloth would be stained for sure

Crocodile just watched the whole time, holding his cigar between his fingers

The next few times went similarly. You’d bring the wine, serve his food, and give the bill- and every time, you would do something wrong. 

Forgetting his silverware, serving him the wrong plate, etc.

At least he always tipped you nicely. That never changed

You’d been so determined to make sure everything went right that the next time he walked in, you tried to be extra careful. You brought him his wine and paused, noticing his hand covering his glass.

“Just water today.”

Three simple words that threw you off. Why? What was wrong with the wine? Was it you?

Your on your way back from getting his ice water when a co-worker steps back, bumping into you from behind and sending you off balance, tipping the serving tray and sending Crocodile’s ice-cold water all over him

Your co-worker all but bails out of the dining hall, leaving you slack jawed, staring at Crocodile’s ruined suit. You can’t even muster up the bravery to apologize to the man as the ice cubes slip off of him and onto the floor

Then he laughs. It’s a loud, booming laugh that seems even louder while the room is dead silent. You’re sure you’re going to die there either from embarrassment or his wrath

“I’ve never seen someone trip over themselves so much just to get my attention. It’s flattering.” He says, smirking down at you while you’re still frozen in place. Then he asks you what time your shift is over, and you answer that you’re done in an hour

He tells you to make sure you’re here in 3 hours, that way he can dry off and have a proper conversation with you

You’re left there, confused, wondering if it’s going to be a date or a murder when he returns

[massivelyshadyshawdows]

First things first, I'll start the day with a meticulous cleaning routine. You see, a good toy is not only visually appealing but also hygienic and well-maintained. I've scrubbed every inch of my body, ensuring that I'm squeaky clean and smelling of sweet vanilla. After all, who doesn't love the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting from a submissive little slut? With my skin feeling silky smooth and my mind racing with anticipation, I've lubricated my tight holes, making sure they're ready to be filled with whatever my Master desires.

Now, let's talk about the attire. I've chosen a stunning black latex catsuit that hugs my curves like a second skin. It's tight enough to make every inch of me look irresistible, yet flexible enough to allow for the full range of motion that comes with being a sex toy. The shine from the latex is absolutely mesmerizing, reflecting the soft glow of the room, making me feel like a living, breathing piece of art. The sound of it squelching against my skin as I move sends a thrill through my body, a reminder of the erotic playtime that awaits.

My day begins with a series of stretches to ensure my body is as limber as possible. After all, I want to be able to contort into whatever position my future owner finds most pleasurable. As I stretch, my muscles protest, but I know it's all for the greater good. With every bend and twist, I imagine the delight that will be etched on their face when they see how easily I can fold in half or spread my legs wider than should be humanly possible.

Speaking of spreading, I've also decided to spend some quality time with my favorite butt plug. It's a big one, gleaming black. I lube it up with a generous dollop of lube, savoring the coldness as I spread it around the tip. I take a deep breath and slowly push it in, feeling it stretch me wide and fill me up. The sensation is oddly comforting, a constant reminder of what I'm here for.

As the day progresses, I'll be experimenting with different sensations. Perhaps I'll wear a pair of nipple clamps while I run errands, the constant tug keeping my nips hard and sensitive. Or maybe I'll slip a vibrator into my cunt while a coffee shop, my cheeks flushing as it hums away, bringing me closer and closer to the edge without allowing me to tip over. After all, a good toy knows how to keep itself on edge, always eager for more.

For lunch, I'll treat myself to a light meal of finger foods, something I can eat without the need for cutlery. It's all about getting used to serving myself up in bite-sized pieces for when I'm presented to my Master.

Throughout the afternoon, I'll be practicing my oral skills. I've got a dildogag that's just the right size and shape for the job, gagging and drooling like the good little slut I am. The sight of me on all fours, mouth stretched wide around a cock, is something I know will drive you wild. I'll spend hours getting used to the feel of it, the way it hits the back of my throat, making me gag and sputter.

As the sun sets, I'll slip into something a bit more… revealing. Perhaps a latex dress that barely covers my ass, or a skimpy little set that leaves nothing to the imagination. I'll wander around my apartment. After all, a good toy is always available for use, no matter where it is. I leave my door unlocked, just in case my Master decides to drop by unannounced. The thrill of not knowing if I'll be caught in such a compromising position makes my heart race and my cunt throb.

And let's not forget the finishing touches. I'll paint my face with a mask of obedience, my eyes lined with smoky black liner that makes them look like the windows to my soul—a soul that craves nothing more than to be used and abused. My lips will be a glossy red, pouty and wet, begging to be kissed or bitten. My hair will be pulled back into a tight bun, exposing my neck for whatever use my Master sees fit.

But the pièce de résistance? The collar. A shiny, chrome collar that says, without a single word, "I belong to you." It'll sit snugly around my neck, a constant reminder of my place. I'll attach a leash and lead, ready to be walked like the obedient pet I long to be.

As the night wears on, I'll keep myself entertained with a little bit of solo play. I'll tease and tantalize my clit with a vibrator, bringing myself to the brink of orgasm again and again without ever allowing myself to come. This is a crucial part of my training, learning to deny myself pleasure until it's given. By the time my Master arrives, I'll be a writhing, whimpering mess of need.

But what really makes today special is the promise of tomorrow. Each and every day is a chance to become more of the toy I was meant to be. Whether it's trying new outfits, learning new tricks, or pushing my body to its limits, I'll be eagerly awaiting the moment I'm picked up and played with.

So, today I'm becoming a better plaything. Submissive, eager, and ready for whatever comes my way. And when tomorrow rolls around, I'll wake up and do it all again. Because that's what good toys do. They crave the attention, the use, and the pleasure of serving and as the days go by, I'll only get better at it. More empty. More sexy. More slutty. More… me.

What are you doing today to be a better toy?

Could be anything, really. You might have decided that today you'll crawl around on all fours when you're in private, so that you can more easily feel like the submissive little pet you want to be. Maybe you've made up your mind to lift up your top and expose your tits when you're working at your desk, or spend the day bottomless, all to feel more exposed and slutty. Hell, you could even have resolved to spend a few minutes every hour pressing a toy into yourself, because you want to get more used to and eager for that feeling of being stuffed full.

Every single day is an opportunity to make yourself emptier, happier, and closer to the kind of plaything you want to be.

So, once again:

What are you doing today to be a better toy?

Share your methods down in the replies or reblogs! I'm sure that other bimbos, pets, and dolls would appreciate the new ideas.

[callsign-relic]

dont look at me ive just been like fiending over the titan au for the past . 30 minutes just foaming at the maw about it

also my first anon here yay yay yay! yippee! but anyways onto BUSINESS.

ive mainly just been thinking about titan!megatron being a tiny bit . obsessed????? possessive? over a little human like sorry i just enjoy the difference in culture, language, and size especially TOO much.

something ive mainly been thinking about is just. this little human walking around in this strange, dangerously alien city thats absolutely massive, the buildings a cold steel, but the second they put their hands on anything the warmth from their hands just barely stir the nanites in the titan that makes whatever they touched bloom into a soft blue hue

colored footprints leave behind a trail that fade slowly over time, the blue hues melding into greens and yellows the longer the human lingers in an area as the surrounding area soaks in the warmth

meanwhile megatron has been keeping an eye on the little thing since minute one, shifting things around quietly to keep the human close and most importantly safe, one wrong move and the little guy would go kersplat if he didnt keep an eye on them

so he does, watching the human just taking in the alien cityscape with an awe in their eyes that megatron could barely understand

also something ive always like. not really disliked ?? more like. gotten enough of the “waah im a little human who knows nothing!! ):>” thing, like I KNOW ITS MOST TIMES SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE. A READER INSERT but idk! i just wanna see people flesh out the human more in these kinda things

like what if they were a architect before finding themselves in the depths of the titan? what if they studied everything interesting about the structures inside megatron, said titan watching them with curiosity as they quickly write down something in a notebook that they slowly fill over time the longer they spend inside him

or maybe a linguist! slowly deciphering the little bits of cybertronian that they can find to understand the alien language, over time learning that the walls were almost covered in poetry, maybe making some of their own in inspiration of the titans, maybe megatron would be elated to learn that someone else has the same interest? like i mean the guy is probably extremely lonely, even if its self imposed there would still be some kind of yearning to be understood if you catch my drift??

gahh SORRY FOR THESE THOUGHTS BEING SO JUMBLED i just had to write this stuff down or it’d never leave my head lol BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE? MAYBE?

Eeeee these are so cool thank you so much for sharing!!!

I love the idea of the human having some background to them. An architect or a linguist or anything, just something that gives them a purpose to be interested rather than just “ooo big alien”. I feel like once Megatron sees the human’s attempts to reach out and communicate, maybe he would try and reach out too.

This tiny creature, smaller than dust, yet he still tries to communicate with them, because of how interested they seem in him too…

[fanfics4all]

Crossing Paths

Request: Yes / No Hey I was wondering could you write for Luke Alvez where y/n is Hotch’s daughter and she was like 17 when the show started and the team loves her and she’s kind of like a mini Spencer and wanted to be just like her dad and when she was old enough she went to work in Afghanistan and when she’s there she meets Luke and they fall in love but then she gets transferred and they know if they’ll see each other again and all Luke has of her is a Polaroid picture he took of her that he carries with him. She gets back to the BAU in season 11. When Luke starts working there she is injured from a previous case so she’s not in to see him straight away so when she comes in and the team introduces her to Luke she acts like they were just friends in Afghanistan ( not wanting to announce in front of everyone and her dad) but when they are alone it’s a very heartfelt reunion and very fluffy @sxphia-g

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Luke Alvez x Fem!Hotchner!Reader 

Word count: 1493

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name 

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Luke’s POV*

I had many expectations when stepping into the BAU, but seeing her again was not one of them. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again, not after we were separated in Afghanistan. Her transfer tore us apart and all I had left was a single Polaroid as a reminder. I kept the photo close, folded it carefully, and tucked it into my wallet as if I would bridge the distance between us. But here she was, just as I remembered, maybe a little different. She looked a little worn from the line of work we both knew all too well. 

When the team introduced her as ‘Hotch’s daughter’, I kept my expression as neutral as possible. My heart was racing to see her in person again. She nodded politely at me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips as if we were nothing more than people meeting for the first time. 

“Alvez, nice to meet you.” She said with a lightness I recognized. It was the same one she used in Afghanistan when they couldn’t be anything but professional. 

I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was brilliant, just like her Father and Reid, a natural in the world of profiling and deduction. The team adored her, and from what I could tell, she was every bit as committed to the work as I remembered. But we weren’t on just professional terms back then, and the reality of it hit me hard when I caught her gaze from across the room. Her eyes softened for just a second like she wanted to reach out and hold me. 

After what felt like an eternity, we finally found ourselves alone in one of the small rooms of the office. The door clicked shut and for a moment, neither of us spoke. We just took each other in after so much time apart. 

“Luke…” She whispered, her voice barely above a whispered. It was like no time had passed. I crossed the space between us in a heartbeat, pulling her close. My hands rested on her shoulders, I was afraid to let go. 

“God, I thought I’d lost you for good.” I whispered, my voice thick. I looked down at her, trying to take in every detail as if I could memorize her all over again. She was different, but somehow the exact same. She had the same spark in her eyes, the same quiet strength that had captivated me back in Afghanistan. 

“I missed you.” She admitted softly, her hand coming up to brush my cheek. The professionalism we held up during our reintroduction faded away, leaving only the tenderness we hadn’t been able to share until now. We stayed like this for a moment, lost in each other, both realizing how much we held onto the hope of this reunion. A reunion we never thought would come. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she rested her head against my chest. We stood in silence, feeling the steady rhythm of each other’s heartbeats. It was a quiet reminder that we were both finally together again. After a few moments, she pulled back, looking up at me with that familiar glint in her eyes that I’d fallen for so long ago. 

“Did you keep it?” She whispered, but I knew exactly what she was asking. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my wallet, and carefully unfolded the worn Polaroid. Her face in the picture was younger and carefree, her smile wide and bright as she laughed at something I said before snapping the picture. I remembered that day so clearly, the warmth of the sun, the laughter that filled the air, and the unspoken promise between us. 

“Every day. It got me through some rough times.” I whispered, holding it up so she could see. Her eyes softened and she reached out, brushing her fingers over the image before looking up at me. There was a hint of sadness mixing with the joy in her expression. 

“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. I tried not to get my hopes up.” I felt my chest tighten. 

“You don’t have to hope anymore. We’re here now. We’re back.” We both fell silent, sharing a tender look, knowing we’d have to navigate this new reality cautiously. 

There was the team to think of, Hotch to think of, and we weren’t the same people we were back then. There was a lot more on the line now, but somehow, standing here with her in my arms, I didn’t feel like any of it mattered. 

Just then, the door cracked open and JJ poked her head in, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

“Hey, Hotch wants to debrief on the last case. You two ready?” We exchanged a quick look, our shared secret settling into a comfortable place. 

“Yep, on our way.” She replied smoothly, pulling away with a professionalism that almost made me chuckle. There was a small, knowing smile she sent my way, one that promised we’d pick up where we left off as soon as we had a moment. I watched her walk out, the weight of the photo in my pocket felt a little lighter, and followed her out of the room. 

As the weeks went by, Y/N and I sipped into a rhythm, balancing work with the unspoken bond we shared. It wasn’t easy. We kept things low-key, but every time our eyes met across the bullpen, every time we passed each other in the halls, there was a spark that ran deeper than words. 

One late night, after the rest of the team had gone home, I stayed behind, working on case files. I thought I was alone until I heard a soft knock on the door and looked up to see her leaning against the frame. She had that familiar, mischievous smile on her face. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” She teased, slipping into the dimly lit office. I chuckled, dropping my pen. 

“Could say the same for you. What’re you still doing here?” 

“Oh, you know…” She shrugged, coming closer. 

“Couldn’t sleep, thought maybe some company would help.” She took a seat next to me and we slipped into comfortable conversation. Memories from Afghanistan waving into stories from recent cases. Being around her felt so natural like no time had passed at all. Eventually, the conversation slowed, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp illuminating our faces. She looked up at me, her expression vulnerable, her voice soft as she spoke. 

“Luke… sometimes I wonder if we’d still feel like this, even if we hadn’t been through so much back then. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I can’t let go of that version of us, you know?” I reached out, taking her hand gently in mine. 

“Afghanistan brought us together, yeah, but what I feel… it’s so much more than that. We’re not just some memory for me. This…” I lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“...This is real.” She held my gaze, the weight of my words settling between us. It was something we both needed to hear. Afghanistan had been intense, but what we had not was grounding, rooted in shared dreams and hard work. We stayed like that, the quiet comfort of each other’s presence enough to fill the room. But then she tensed, a small frown creasing her brow. I noticed instantly, my thumb brushing over her hand. 

“What’s wrong?” She took a deep breath, her gaze dropping to our hands. 

“It’s just… my Dad. He’s protective. I don’t know how he’d react to this, to us. He’s always been supportive, but when it comes to me, he’s got blind spots. And you know, you’re not just any guy, you’re a part of his unit now, too.” I nodded, understanding her concerns. Hotch wasn’t just her Father, he was my superior and a man whose respect meant the world to me. We both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but my grip on her hand tightened. It was a quiet reassurance that I was ready to face whatever came our way. 

“I’ll talk to him. When the time is right. He deserves to hear it from me. But you gotta know, nothing, no one, could make me walk away from you. Not after everything we’ve been through.” I said firmly. She looked at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. Leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss to my lips, one that held all the promises we didn’t need to say out loud. 

“I love you, Luke.” She whispered, her voice full of all the warmth and strength I’d come to know so well. My heart swelled and I pulled her close, pressing my forehead to hers. 

“I love you too, Y/N, and we’ll figure this out together. One step at a time.”

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1 @pettyjayy @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @answer-the-sirens @andreasworlsboring101 @liz-owl

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[sysig]

Charm(s) meet Charm Bear (Patreon)

[hauntingblue]

WE STILL GOT ARCANEEEEE

[malewifehenrycooldown]

yeah yeah i got recommended that Henry Cooldown analysis video whatever. i am still not over people comparing Henry to a medieval knight, NOT even taking the time to unpack that said mental image of a knight is 'mostly' associated with the British Monarchy*, an extension of its Empire that *checks notes* did a long list of atrocities like imperialism and colonialism, and also (multiple) genocides.

Henry is NOT British, he is Irish. Although considering the history of Ireland and how poorly the British Empire has treated them (amongst SO MANY OTHER COUNTRIES AND DIASPORAS), yeah it's NOT surprising that an Irish man like Henry is essentially forced to adopt quote on quote 'British sensibilities' to 'survive'. <- intentional imagery or not, the implications are not lost on me.

Like okay, calling out the comparison is cool but it sure would be nice if people went further to unpack what that means and implies in the long term. you know, like ACTUAL CRITICAL ANALYSIS?!

[exopelagic]

this election feels so hollow even though it’s likely ostensibly gonna be a good outcome. labour really just sucks fucking ass rn huh

[adore-gregor]

study smart not hard (altough both is best actually) this saying is so true

[soft-serve-soymilk]

You Have No Name patch update for the week: Erk has Fuchs Dystrophy ✨

[silverislander]

have discovered a new enemy while doing research for the honours essay. why are you pretending to understand psychology and BLATANTLY misinterpreting actual terms and concepts in order to tear down a movie aimed at teenage girls, my good bitch. i'm going to start biting

[nyaacatboy]

i'd like to kill diet & weight loss culture for 1 day so that i can actually celebrate my gaining weight as the milestone of getting healthier and happier that it is instead of just silently sitting with that knowledge and telling myself that looking different isn't a bad thing

[thebleedingeffect]

REMINDER FOR FUTURE ME, write the introduction for Sky's capture and the destruction of skyloft please and thank you