#i should've worn longer pants..

[pointyfruit]

Another tele photo and the abandoned house

I found this cool telephone in a abandoned house. Unfortunately I might have to throw it away so I'm immortalizing it on tumblr.

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[middle-ans]

George was just doing routine laundry on his sudden day off in the middle of the week. He wasn't about to blatantly give the hot, gorgeous, enigmatic neighbor a surprise glimpse of what later found a floral affiliation with the shade of soft, blushing pink on his doorstep.

1.5k words

What, I'm silly. And I love that scene from Desperate Housewives with the nanny in the laundry room at Scavo's house, btw Lynnette should've killed Tom on the spot when she found out.

The laundry room was empty, just as George had hoped. It was midweek, mid-morning - the kind of time when most people in the building were at work or otherwise occupied. He had an unexpected day off, a last-minute schedule change at the boutique, and he figured he might as well take advantage of it to catch up on chores.

The space was lit by long strips of flickering fluorescent lights, but the real glow came from the high, frosted windows under the ceiling, where sunlight slanted in at an angle, casting everything in warm, golden hues. George felt it on his skin, a soft caress of warmth as he set his laundry basket down and started sorting through his clothes.

It wasn’t much - a few shirts, some socks, a hoodie he’d worn twice but wasn’t ready to call dirty. As he stuffed them into the washing machine, his gaze fell to his own clothes, the loose pajama pants and the slightly oversized sleep shirt. The pants weren’t exactly dirty, but he’d been wearing them all morning, and the thought struck him that he might as well throw them in, too.

And if he was doing that, well…

There was something else, a pair of lacy panties from the lingerie store he worked at, a test mock-up of what was the inspiration for the new collection, and Alessandra, the owner & designer, had handed them to him after catching his eye lingering on the panties for a second longer. 'Perfect for your hips' she said, and George didn't mind. He preferred lace, especially low cut ones and those that barely covered what they were meant for. So standing next to the open door of the washing machine he thought why not?

George bit his lip, he hooked his thumbs into the elastic, shimmying the pajamas down his hips. The air bit at his bare thighs, raising goosebumps. The panties clung stubbornly, lace against skin still sleep-warm, until he wiggled them free with a huff.

“In you go,” he whispered to them, dropping the panties into the machine with a flourish.

Fumbling with the buttons on the mode panel, George hummed a soft tune to himself, arching his back in a sweet stretch to relieve any residual stiffness in his muscles from sleep. One leg bent at the knee, hips raised high as he reached for the appropriate wash mode. All in peace. Until a throat cleared behind him.

George froze.

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck.

He turned his head just enough to catch a glimpse over his shoulder, and there he was - his hot neighbor. The one he only ever exchanged nods and polite hey, man greetings with in the lobby. The one with warm, dark eyes and tattooed arms and plump, unfairly pretty lips. The one whose name George didn’t even know, because they’d never properly introduced themselves. And those lips. Those lips were slightly parted, his lower one caught just between his teeth before his tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, wetting it.

And yet here he was, standing in the doorway, staring.

George realized, with a sudden and violent awareness, that he was bent over in front of this man, pants pooled around his ankles, pussy fully on display in the golden morning light. It backlit him like some kind of deranged Renaissance painting - ‘Boy With Panties and Regret’.

Oh, fuck.

Lewis coughed, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Hope I’m not interrupting… laundry yoga?”

George yanked his sleep shirt down with a speed that could have broken records, straightening up so fast he almost lost his balance. He fumbled for his pants, heart pounding in his chest, face heating up so much he was sure he’d combust on the spot.

“I, uh, hi-” his voice cracked. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Lewis leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, gaze steady and unreadable except for the slight amusement in his eyes.

“Hi yourself. Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, voice smooth, rich, a little teasing. “Didn’t mean to, uh… see anything, either. Not something I'd expect with my morning coffee.”

“Oh my God,” George wanted to melt into the floor.

“But,” Lewis tilted his head. “If I did see something, just know it was a beautiful start to my day.”

George made a sound. A strangled, embarrassed, horrified little sound.

Lewis smiled, slow and warm.

“Nice lace, by the way.”

George squirmed, covering half his face with a hand. He sighed, straightening the waistband of his pajama pants and tilted his head, examining the pattern on them. A huge cluster of sneezing cats. Bloody Alex.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, lips going to be bitten into a hideous state by the end of this day. “It's from the store where I work.”

Lewis hums, viewing him like a curious fruitcake.

“So you work in a lingerie store?” his lashes fall a breath lower, a tiny movement that frames the heavy dark gaze with an even greater veil of mystery. “Might as well hire you as a model. With a curve like that.”

George sucked in a sharp breath, grabbing the now empty laundry basket.

“You, I- this never happened.”

Lewis tilted his head, considering him.

“Sure it didn’t.”

“It didn’t!”

Lewis’s lips curled, that same thoughtful, very entertained expression lingering on his face.

“Then why are you blushing, sweetheart?”

George made a strangled sound, high and distressed.

“You cannot just, just walk in here and see that and say things like that!”

“See what?” Lewis asked, all fake innocence. “I was just coming in to do my laundry.”

George glared at him.

“You licked your lips.”

Lewis exhaled a small, amused laugh.

“What can I say? You looked good enough to eat.”

George's soul left his body.

“I’m leaving.”

Lewis stepped aside to let him pass, but as George stormed past him, he heard it - low and teasing, just under his breath-

“Guess I’ll be dreaming about that all day, huh?”

George didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

But his heart?

His heart was racing.

The rest of the day stretched on, slow and heavy with tension. George couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking around in a haze, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts. Every time he tried to distract himself - whether by reading, watching TV, or scrolling through his phone - his thoughts inevitably returned to that moment in the laundry room.

Lewis’s smirk, his low voice, the way his gaze had lingered on George’s exposed skin, it was all too much to ignore. Each time he thought about it, a wave of embarrassment would roll over him, followed by a rush of something else, something hotter. He hadn’t expected to be so... intrigued.

He shifted from room to room, trying to distract himself, but his mind kept returning to Lewis. To that moment. To the way his body had reacted to the teasing words, to the knowing look in Lewis's eyes.

George felt wound up, nervous but intrigued, and more than a little unsure of what he was supposed to be feeling. Was he embarrassed? Yes, of course. But was he also... curious? Absolutely.

When the sun began to set, casting golden hues across the apartment, George found himself walking aimlessly to the window, pulling back the curtain slightly to peer out. The evening sky was cloudless, and he could see the moon just starting to rise. He leaned against the window frame, lost in thought, his mind flickering between confusion and a growing curiosity.

He was still replaying the events of the morning in his mind, the feel of Lewis’s eyes on him, the teasing words he’d heard just as he’d stormed past him.

But then - there was a knock on his door.

George’s heart skipped in his chest, suddenly alert, as if the sound had shaken him from his thoughts. He froze, staring at the door for a few moments as though trying to figure out if he had imagined it.

No. It came again, more insistent this time.

He quickly glanced around the apartment, feeling the flush rise on his cheeks as though he’d just been caught in the middle of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

For a brief second, he wondered if it was just his nerves. But when he heard the knock again, George knew.

He opened the door cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Nothing.

Well, not nothing - there, on the floor in front of him, was a bouquet of soft pink peonies, their petals open wide, and a folded piece of paper resting carefully beneath them.

His heart pounded in his chest, confusion and excitement swirling together. Slowly, he bent down and picked up the flowers, the faint scent of them hitting his senses and calming him, if only slightly.

He unfolded the note, his hands trembling ever so slightly.

The note was simple. Short. But every word hit George like a punch to the gut. The giggle though was so resonant bouncing off the walls that it was heard even by the man standing a few floors above, leaning against the wall and grinning like crazy, trying to catch his breath.

“For a beautiful boy who gave me the best part of my morning.

I couldn’t help but notice the color of these peonies matches something else I saw today.

Sweet, soft, and impossible to forget. Still thinking about it. Still thinking about you.”

And on the other side was hopeful “I’ll be around if you want to pick up where we left off.”.

[bellyasks]

Hi! Just thought I’d leave an ask. Is it possible to request inflated belly dialogues/prompts? Either is fine, and from either POV. I was thinking air, heliun, or water. And if possible, no mentions of bursting please!! If this isn’t possible, that’s okay! I hope you have a good day or night!

PERSON 1:

"Oohhh, my belly… Is it supposed to feel so tight?"

"I can't believe how big it's getting. I can feel it pushing out."

"I do-urp--uurp-- I-urp--oh, g-hurp--gosh--"

"Ohh, it feels so heavy…"

"Oof, I feel like a balloon/water balloon."

"No, I think… I think I can hold a little more."

"Oh, gosh, hang on--can you rub my belly a little? Right there… Be gentle."

"I should've worn a different outfit for this."

"Oh, my tummy's gonna be so sore later…"

"Oohh, I'm so full… Just one more [unit of whatever]."

PERSON 2:

"Are you sure you can handle more? Your belly's getting really tight."

"Unbutton your pants? Aw, come on, I'm sure they can hold on a little longer."

[patting belly] "Ooh, listen to how full you sound!"

"Oh my gosh, I wish you could see how far your belly's sticking out right now."

"You look like you swallowed a beach ball… Well, I guess you basically are a beach ball at this point."

"I don't think I can get the button undone. It's too tight."

"Wow, your belly's really rumbling. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Maybe we should stop. My tummy hurts just looking at you."

"No way you can fit any more in there."

"You're gonna need some serious belly rubs tonight."

[perpetuallypottytraining]

I want to share a training pants alternative!!!

recently, I've bought a pack of period underwear (from Hanes, specifically) and, omg, they definitely put my headspace exactly where I want it to be!

it has 5 different layers of fabric, including the moisture wicking top, 2 absorbent layers, a leak proof layer, then the outer layer that makes up the rest of the undies - this is all relegated to the crotch of the underwear but it does cover what it needs to while worn

the padding is labelled as "moderate protection" for periods, as a discrete option, and while I feel like they'll be fine for a full day for that purpose, it's also enough padding to be right on the edge of your awareness while wearing

this serves it's purpose as training pants extremely well - I can be wearing them, then sit and browse Tumblr for a bit, forgetting I put them on, then be very aware of them as I shift in my seat. the tactile sensation is of wearing something inbetween an adult pull-up (where the padding doesn't go all the way to the waistband) and average cotton undies

additionally, in the complete silence, while walking there's an audible... not quite crinkle, but more of a swoosh as the leak proof layer shifts against the other fabric - this makes me feel very little, as it's a very clear reminder that I'm not wearing normal cotton undies and am instead wearing "big kid pants"

now! about the absorption: personally, I feel like it takes in the perfect amount of liquid. it will not, in any circumstances, take in a full bladder, but! that's kinda exactly the point of training pants

it can hold about a quarter of my bladder, under ideal circumstances and being careful about it

now, remember what I said about it being on the edge of awareness of anything being abnormal about your underwear status? while fully wet, it is very tactile and you're very aware of it. it wants to sag, but the legholes remain closed around your thighs, so it just feels heavy. it feels - and is! - thicker, but, wearing pants/shorts over it, it looks like nothing has changed

anyways, fully saturated, it feels like you've made a miscalculation and should've just used the potty

adding a little more liquid causes it to absorb onto the outer fabric above the crotch, then the outer fabric around the thighs, creating the leak points where it will no longer hold anything

so! I wouldn't say these can take a wetting, not by a long shot. instead, they're perfect for leaking into. by letting out small spurts, at first, it'll just feel a bit warm, and a bit puffy-er, but not wet - the moisture wicking will do its job, doing it's best to keep it away from your skin. then, with more leaks/spurts, it will get noticeably saturated/puffy, where upon you - or a caregiver - will need to decide to go to the potty and then change or if an accident is on the table

personally, I'm not sure I'll be using them too often, as cleaning them immediately is kinda a hassle rn, but they are easy to clean - rinse them under running water, then toss them in the washing machine. they can even be washed with the rest of your laundry. they can even handle the drier!

I am definitely going to be wearing them often though, as just the sensations of wearing them dry makes me feel all little and giggly

[aliorsboxostuff]

hey there! love your work. was wondering if you could do an overstimulated neurodivergent/autistic reader hurt+comfort with tangerine boyfriend? if youre uncomfortable writing that its okay just an idea!!! have a nice day :)

A/N: ABSOLUTELY ANON yk im somewhat of a neurodivergent myself aha. And while I'd like to say i'm experienced with writing these sort of fics, each and every one of us experiences overstimulation differently, so in this fic, i want to take the idea of Social Overstim (Where you're used to follow a specific pattern or schedule in a day but it suddenly doesn't go the way it should've) Enjoy y'all!

Pulse

TANGERINE X M!READER

tags: Tangerine x m!Reader, autistic!Reader, soft!Tangerine, domesticity, panic attacks, overstim (and not the good kind :[ ), hurt-comfort, cuddling

What happens when your usually efficient schedule turns on its axis, so now it's up to Tangerine to take care of you.

—

you prided myself on being an efficient and vigilant intel agent. You weren't necessarily the tidiest; with your reports usually being bull points of highlighted information squished together with habits your nitpick from the target, but you send them on time and with enough information, so, the title goes. Efficient and vigilant. 

The agency has benefited from your intel multiple times, making you the head of the agency's intel program. You remembered the ceremony when they promoted you; Tangerine and Lemon stood behind the crowd of executives, proud smiles on both of their faces. You could never forget the way Tangerine pulled you aside and gave you a bone crunching hug, not to mention the soul sucking blowjob later that night. 

Your brain's functions simply; follow schedules, add chores that needs to be done for the day, don't forget to kiss Tangerine goodbye for the morning, and do hobbies after work. Each and every day, you follow that specific pattern of events in order to maximize your productivity. Maybe that's why you were efficient, you have a schedule and that schedule must be followed.

Today isn't any different.

You awake minutes before Tangerines, soaking up the warmth of your boyfriends bare chest while you study the little details on his serene structure. The slight flutter of his lashes, sharp bones shape the devastatingly beautiful face of his, parted lips that tempt you to kiss them, even down to his mustache, slightly askew from moving around at night. You smile, pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's temple before sliding out of the bed and padding into the bathroom.

You took your time getting ready after a shower, spraying your favorite cologne before combing back your hair, the suit you laid out last night already worn as today's armor. 

When you exit the bathroom, Tangerine is still sleeping soundly, though his position has changed. He's no longer on his side, opting to curl in on himself and cuddle your pillow, grumbling slightly. When it was the start of your relationship, you were worried Tan was having nightmares with the way he clings to your leftover scent, but now you know he's just missing you in bed so he acts as a sponge to the smell on your pillow. You chuckle as you walk past him, opening the bedroom door softly to walk into the apartment.

You set yourself on making him breakfast, as usual. The coffee maker is already running so you scour the fridge for breakfast items. You noticed the eggs have run out, and so has the pancake mix. You'll have to add that to the grocery list. For now, breakfast will have to be toast with butter. 

When you've pressed down on the toaster and started to work on your beverage of choice, you hear a slew of swears, before the steady thrum of the shower follows, notifying you of your boyfriend's awakening. 

Sure enough, not long after you've settled on the kitchen island with two plates of toast and sipping on your mug, Tangerine walks out ready for the day. Immaculate suit accentuates your boyfriend's lean body as he saunters to the island, crisp gray suit and pants, sleek tie in place, equipped with his shoulder holsters that pushes at his dress shirt making you look away in order to avoid a tight pants. taking his seat next to you, he kisses you with a mumble of "Good morning" before he starts eating.

When you've finished your plate and placed them in the sink, precisely on time; Lemon comes barging into yours and Tangerines apartment with a cheer. "Morning brotha's!" 

He slips next to Tangerine, steals a toast, before he starts debriefing the man with any and all upcoming missions, against his will of course. He doesn't mind, it's the way the twins start their morning, so it has become a part of yours and Tan's routine.

While Lemon gives Tangerine a choice of either going to Prouge or Jakarta for their next mission,—"Because we're ain't goin' to Germany again mate,"—You got your case ready, umbrella in hand.

"Don't forget your dagger belt and extra ammo dear, I've shined your favorite butterfly knife and left it on the dresser so bring that too alright?" Stepping around the boys as you made sure you've strapped on your watch and rings, before passing behind Tangerine and pressing a short kiss on his lips, earning a smile from the brunette, and patting Lemon on the back before you make your way to the hallway leading to the door. 

Last check for any stray hair strands before you deemed it sufficient, and slip on your work shoes. 

"Have a great day love! See you tonight!" Tangerine calls. You couldn't help the familiar smile.

"You too dear, love you!"

"Love ya' too!" And the door closes behind you.

The start of the day is like any other, setting up for another perfect day.

—

Is what you would say, if it did turn out per scheduled. 

When you arrived at work, at your usual time which is 8 AM sharp, you fellow intel agents seemed on edge as you made your way to your desk. Not a minute passes before an alarm rings, indicating a mission gone rogue and a number of Intel agents are needed on their desk. An emergency you anticipated of course, if it weren't for the multiple rogue missions, needing every agent on deck.

So you spent the better half of the morning making sure Lioness—a rookie agent that transferred from the Philippines—did not get shot in an alleyway in Europe and finally secured at her extractions site. The whole time you needed you constantly spin a pen in your hand in order to maintain focus. 

Another half of the day was spent compiling all of the lost files from the rogue missions and making sure your coworkers were compiling theirs, asking them to send it to you once they have. Hence, another 3 hours in front of your monitor while you organize each and every incident report, damages and expenses needed to be covered by the agency. 

When you finally have time for yourself, the clock strikes 3 PM which is already past lunch, but despite it all you still walked to the cafe to get your usual meal. You'd usually order yourself a cup of coffee and a pastry of your choice, the thought of a sweet baked goods to fix the day excited you. 

When you arrived at the cafe, sadly what's only available was your coffee since their baker has fallen sick today, so the cafe is unable to provide any pastries. You smile, says it's alright, and took your coffee back to your desk. 

5 PM rolls around, your coworkers begins filling out of their work areas. You packed your case, made sure to throw out any trash that was on your desk, and follow the others as they make their way to the elevator and up. Once on the surface, you said your goodbyes and head home.

On the train ride home, it was oddly crowded that what you're used to. People lining up and pushing you until somehow you ended up in the middle of it all, holding on for dear life. Maybe you've miscalculated the time you went home because it's never this crowded, never this humid. A miscalculation, of course.

"Honey, I'm home," You called, hearing Tangerine shuffle inside the house.

"Kitchen!" He relies, clearly engrossed in whatever dinner item he's making. You slip off your work shoes and loosen your tie, oddly enough you feel it as if it's choking you. While you walk through the hallway shedding your jacket, Tangerine, with his pink 'kiss the cook' apron, peaks his head from behind the opened fridge doors. "Are we outta eggs?" 

Fuck, the eggs! And the pancakes, and the… I was supposed to go grocery shopping today. Shit! Why did i… no, fuck, i forgot i-

"Hey, hey, darling?" You blink, blurry vision unable to identify the person in front of you, though the velvety voice gives you an idea. "Love, angel, are you alright?" His voice wavers, worried. Why was Tangerine worried?

Strong hands hold your arms, not pushing or pulling, just there. Slowly, blinking the droplets away until they run down your cheek, you make out the striking blue and adorable curls in front of you. His brows are furrowed, bowing until he reaches your level. Slowly. painstakingly slow, he leads you to the couch until you've sat, then he cradles your head into the crook of his neck, the sudden scent of Tangerine—Your Tangerine—makes you slightly dizzy. 

"Slowly, my dear, focus on my pulse," He whispers, running gentle hands through your hair, pulling you closer. You breathe in, the smell of sandalwood and cigarettes and Tangerine fills your lungs. Breathing out, you feel the steady pulse of your boyfriends under your ear. "There we are," He continues to comb your hair, occasionally rubbing at your nape, down to your back.

"I…" You began, before tears spilled over and you had to hiccup and force yourself to inhale in order to not choke on yourself. Tangerine holds you through it. "I'm sorry it's…" 

"Don't apologize love, it's alright," You inhale, shakily you find the energy to crawl into Tangerine's lap, your boyfriend hauling the rest of your weight into his lap until you sit comfortably. 

"Tired…" You finally managed through ragged breath. "Everything was… wrong. Too much,"

"Okay. Alright angel," He cuddles you closer until you hear the beat of his heart, your head against his chest, large hands securing your back and rubbing gently. The wall broke. Thick droplets run down your cheeks, your breath coming in short as you bury your face into your boyfriend's shirt. Knuckles white as you cling to the fabric, quivers wreck your whole frame. You try to inhale, only to sob and double over, curling in on yourself while trying to burrow deeper into Tangerine's warmth, become one and leave the living because everything is too much. 

Tangerine holds you through it, a steady rhythm of heartbeats and rubbing soothingly up and down your back. Occasionally, he runs his hands through your locks, untangling the stress of today. He waits, oh so patiently. until your breathing slowly comes back around, your body's shaking subsides and the tears are dried into sniffles. 

"Alright?" His voice lulls you, you meekly nod in response. Tangerine nods back, before he stands up with you in his arms, making you jump and wrap around his neck.

"Tan!" You chuckle into his curls, the man simply hums as he walks through the house, carrying you bridal style. "What are you doing!" 

"Takin' care of ya. Obviously, dinner can wait, but you my dear," He stops, blue eyes meet yours. "Can not wait." 

He unceremoniously dumped you on the bed, making you giggle. He drapes the comforter on you and fluffs the pillow. "M'gonna grab some water and a snack, be right back alright luv," 

Oh, does his accent get thicker when he's sappy like this? You thought, which made you grin into the pillow you're currently hugging.

True to his words, Tangerine comes back with 2 bottles of water and your favorite chips, the ones you saved for movie nights when you and your boyfriend get the chance. He places them on the nightstand before stripping his shirt, your eyes rakes the expanse of Tangerine's defined abdomen.

"Let's get you outta these yea?" He gestures to what's left of your suit. 

"Oh! right, yeah," You shimmy out of your vest and dress shirt, then your pants, leaving you bare with your undershirt and boxers. 

"You want a sweater or a hoodie tonight?" Tangerine rummages through the dresser, his brows furrowed in search of your chosen article.

"Sweater, i think," He nods, grabbing one of your softer ones and helping you settle in them. Once you are nestled in the cocoon of pillows and blankets, Tangerine joins the pile and wraps his arms from behind you, pulling your body until you're settled between his legs. You sigh, arching your head until it rests on your boyfriend's strong shoulders.

"I know how important your schedule is," He runs his fingers through your hair. "And how overwhelmed you can get,"

"Tomorrow, we'll take a break from our pattern, spend a day at home, yea?" 

"What about your mission?"

"I'd drop the whole world to spend time with you, the mission can kiss my arse," 

You spend the rest of the night talking about your day to Tangerine, your boyfriend listening intently and answering if needed. He also explained the briefing with Lemon and what his next missions entails, when he's going to leave and with who. But honestly, you could care less about when your boyfriend is leaving if he's currently spending his precious time pampering you.

[riality-check]

for the mini fic prompts x3 lol: steddie + 27

So for this one, I had two different ideas. It's a shame you can't answer the same ask twice, so if this post is a bit longer to read, that's why. I like them both enough to write! Anyway, here's:

27. things you said through a closed door (version 1)

"Eddie, I know you're home," Steve calls.

There's no response, but from the porch, Steve can hear the music blasting from Eddie's room at the back of the trailer. He doesn't know the song or the band, but it sounds a lot angrier and sadder than the stuff Eddie usually listens to, which worries him.

"I can hear the music!" he shouts. He doesn't want to be so impatient, but it's October and while the roof of the porch shields him from the rain, the wind is bitingly cold. He should've worn his old varsity jacket, he used to wear it when it was snowing and still stayed warm.

The music turns itself down enough so it stops shaking the trailer, and Steve swears he can hear footsteps come toward the front door. But the lock doesn't click open.

Fine. Whatever.

"Eddie, listen, I don't know what I did, but whatever it was, I'm sorry. It's been a week without talking to you and it feels like a fucking year. Please just tell me what I did, and we'll figure it out, okay?"

"You didn't do anything." Eddie's voice is muffled through the door, but Steve thinks he's whispering anyway.

"What do you mean I didn't do anything? Eddie, you haven't even looked my way in a week. Obviously, I did something, and I want to make it right."

"I got scared."

Steve lets his head thud against the door. "Okay. What did I do to scare you?"

The door jerks open a few inches, held closed by the bolt, but Steve stumbles anyway.

"You. Didn't. Do. Anything," Eddie says slowly and deadly calm.

Once he corrects himself, he can see a sliver of Eddie's face: one of his eyes and half his mouth. From just that, Steve can see that Eddie is an utter wreck.

"You wanna know what happened, Stevie? I got scared. I got scared for no fucking reason because all you've been is perfect, so I don't know why I ran. I just did. Because that's what I do at the first sign of danger - I cut and fucking run. So I ran, and I got to thinking, gee, Steve deserves better than someone who bolts at the first sign of trouble, and I decided to stay gone. I think you should let me."

Eddie whispers that last sentence, and his voice cracks a little, and Steve is inches away from breaking the damn bolt.

Instead, he says, "Good thing I'm faster than you."

"What?" Eddie croaks.

"I'm faster than you," Steve says, and it's a fact. "So when you run, I'll always catch up. You're not getting away from me that easily, Munson."

Steve watches Eddie close his eye like he's trying not to cry.

"Can you open the door, babe?"

The bolt slides open.

AND, if you're still here, things you said through a closed door (version 2)

"Steve?" Eddie calls, trying not to stumble on what he thinks is Robin's shirt and Nancy's pants thrown in the middle of the hallway. He braces himself on the wall and tries tip-toeing around them because his shoes are gross and he's tipsy enough to have even worse balance than usual.

"Steve?" he calls again. "You disappeared on us, and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

There's a retch behind the door closest to Eddie. Well, at least he's found him.

"Hey," he shouts - he's gotta shout, Jonathan brough his loud stereo system - and knocks. "I'm coming in."

"No," Steve groans. "'M fine."

"If you call puking your guts out 'fine,' you need help." Eddie grabs the knob and starts twisting. "I'm coming in, sweetheart."

"No," Steve says, and he's coherent enough that Eddie still takes him seriously and stops. "Handled it before, can do it again."

"That doesn't mean you have to," Eddie reminds him. "Can I at least hold your hair back?"

Another retch, and Eddie has heard enough people throw up to know that Steve is just dry heaving now. He grimaces in sympathy because that shit hurts.

Steve doesn't respond for a while, and Eddie wants to check and see if he fell asleep on the toilet - been there, done that - when Steve mumbles something:

"You're gonna leave me."

"What?" Eddie says, hand frozen on the knob.

"You're gonna leave me," Steve says, louder and clearer and oh, that's definitely meant for Eddie.

"Because you're puking your guts out? I've seen worse." Which is true. Eddie's taken people to the hospital and seen them get their stomachs pumped. That shit is bad.

"No. Because I'm a lot. I'm too much work and I'm clingy and I love too much and I'm no fun to be around sometimes and I'm not smart and -"

Eddie opens the door, crosses the room, and holds Steve's gross, sweaty face in his hands.

"Bullshit," he says. "You're stuck with me, Harrington, like a bad tattoo or superglue that won't come off your hands. You're adorable and protective and lovely and brilliant, and now you're gonna let me take care of you. Me leaving you is bullshit. Okay?"

Steve nods, and then he's dry heaving again, and Eddie holds his hair back and rubs his shoulder.

And he stays, the entire time.

(y'all this was the last ask i got, so please) send me more prompts!!

[scuttle-buttle]

Young Folks

Baron on the Run series

Summary: Zemo takes you shopping and you decide it’s time to have a little fun with your Baron.        

Pairing: zemo x plus size fem reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Rating: Mature, mildly suggestive and depictions of lingerie but no actual smut

Tags: fem!reader, plus size reader, fupa (is that a tag?), cuteness, slight age difference, sugar daddy zemo, suggestive language, domestic, self confidence, tik tok trash, bad german

____________________________________________________________________

You should've known you'd end up in this position at some point. Seven weeks since leaving Riga and you had worn everything in your bag more than probably socially acceptable. Even the Baron resorted to wearing the classic jacket-and-ballcap look to be less conspicuous at times, only at your insistence. The fitting room you currently occupied was looking more like a tornado had blown through it than a person. Helmut insisted that you pick out a variety. Dresses, blouses, sweaters, and pants lined the walls and bench within the room. You glanced in the mirror. The jeans you had on fit like a second skin. They should for the price of them, you thought. Helmut did say he wanted to treat you - "for you, anything mein liebe."

The two of you had been in the shop for nearly an hour now. The staff followed the Baron likpuppies, placing all the items you chose into the fitting room for you. Helmut insisted you try on anything and everything that struck your eye. By now you were on outfit 14. 15 maybe? You lost count. “I really think we should have some sort of fashion show montage music playing. Really set the mood.”

Opening the door to show Zemo, you couldn't help but notice how his gaze slid up the length of your legs before settling on the curve of your ass. He only broke away when you spoke. "I really like these high waisted ones much better than the lower cut. Gotta contain the ‘fupa’ - keep that bad boy in," you laughed. You turned, wiggling your hips as you showed off the jeans.

Blinking once, Helmut cocked his head to the side, "contain the…. What?"

“The ‘fupa’.” The clueless look remained on his face, eyebrows scrunched. Oh he’s so adorable when he’s confused. Putting him out of his misery you gesture to the lower pouch of your stomach. “That’s what all the kids are calling it these days,” you explain, trying to sound cultured.

“I see…. It appears I am quite behind on what is considered young and ‘hip’ now.”

“Years in a maximum security prison will do that to you. Don’t worry - I’ll catch you up, old man,” you wink before closing the dressing room door.

Shimmying out of the jeans you pick the next item to try on. Leggings and a purple knit sweater; simple and comfy. You ready yourself to show Helmut, but when you open the door he’s no longer seated on the chair he previously occupied. Shrugging, you admire yourself in the 3-faced mirror along the wall. The sweater emphasizes the curves you like while hiding those you don’t.

Two outfits later and still no Helmut; you begin to worry that something is wrong. Opening the door once more you clutch at your chest in shock. He’s leaning on the doorframe, a sly smile on his face. “Jesus, Helmut - you nearly gave me a heart attack! Where’ve you been I was getting worried?” You glance down at the movement of his arm.

“I was on a mission,” he shrugged, his smirk never fading. Holding out the pieces of material, you see exactly what kept him from you. Sets of lace, ribbons, and straps were placed in your hands. Lingerie. “I have kept your preference for the high waisted, as you said you are more fond of it. Although, I would love you in anything…. Or nothing.” Your face heats under his stare. Turning to close the door, Helmut called out a “don’t be long now, liebling.”

Looking through the options you decided on the simple off-white babydoll and panty set first. Although quite transparent, you admired how delicate you felt. White was not always the most flattering color for someone trying to hide the softness of their body, but if Helmut picked it out there must be a reason. You certainly did look angelic. “Meine engel,” you could imagine him saying.

Next you grab a navy blue teddy. The mesh is covered in small polka dots of the same blue, featuring a sweetheart neckline, cinched waist, and cheeky backside. The cut felt vintage; add red lip and you could be a real pinup girl. As much as you wanted to show Helmut you didn’t think the shop owner would appreciate you traipsing around half-nude.

The last set you reach for is a deep purple. The same color as his mask, of course, you think. Three pieces make it up. Taking a minute to ensure each strap is correctly in place, you nearly gasp when you see yourself in the mirror. A balconette bustier presses your ample breasts up and inward in an obscene manner. Garter belt, sans stockings, clasped around your middle accentuates the narrowest part of your thick waist. The thong sits high on your wide hips, the globes of your backside on full display. You should feel entirely exposed. Instead you feel like an absolute goddess draped in his color. His goddess.

“I hope there is good reason for you to keep me waiting, schatz.” Zemo calls from the chair outside.

“Ye-yeah, I’ll be done in a minute,” you call out, not yet ready to leave the bubble you’ve found yourself in. Deciding that you don’t want to leave it, you find the next best solution. Ripping the price tag off the set you have on, you redress in the clothes you wore to the shop, all while leaving the lingerie underneath. You stuff your boring undergarments in your oversized purse and grab the items you are purchasing.

“I trust you found something you liked?” Helmut inquired, a hand on your back as he led you to the register.

“I did,” came your flippant reply.

Reaching the register you placed your items down before handing the removed price tag directly to the cashier with a smile. The Baron’s brow raised at the action for a moment before connecting the dots. A huff left his nose at the realization of which piece was missing from the pile, and thus where that set currently was. You ignored the way his heated stare bore holes into you.

Finishing the transaction, Helmut grabbed the bags before leading you out of the shop. Leaning in you placed a sweet kiss to his cheek, a whispered “thank you daddy,” in his ear.

“We should return home.” Helmut stood rigid, his pupils blown as he regarded you. The faint pressure of a growing hardness pressed into your hip. It was easy to guess what was on his mind.

Uh uh. That won’t do. You wanted to see him suffer. As much as he teased you the last few weeks with everything he did you wanted a taste of the action. To make him have to think about what you have underneath your clothes. About your body wrapped in his color. About all the things he wants to do to you but can’t. You decide to pretend not to notice his current predicament. Innocently as possible, you whine “already? I’m not done yet, I really wanted to visit the little bookstore up the block. And then I figured we could go get a cup of tea - I can catch you up on what us young folk are up to these days! Someone needs to educate you, so we might as well get to it!”

“Oh I’ll show you what is up, schatz,” Helmut growls.

You give him your best puppy dog look before he sighs. Pulling away from you to compose himself, you begin your journey to the bookstore, biting your lip in satisfaction. “Come on, boomer!” you yell. Zemo trails behind.

“I am in trouble…” he mumbles to himself.

[vkookjamz]

⋆☽Kitten☾⋆

|| Prologue. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

| 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑘𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑥 𝐶𝑎𝑡-𝐻𝑦𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑑 𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 |

"𝘉-𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭..?"

𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯. 𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦..

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

Y/n's POV

"What the hell hyung-" Jungkook hissed at the older.

Taehyung rose up, moving to stand aside as the younger replaced his previous spot kneeling down beside you.

"What happened?? Why is y/n in here like this??" The males brows knitted together as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark grey sweater, reaching down to pull the drain emptying the tub.

You were weak, you could still feel a slight dizziness in your head, and your cheeks were flushed.

The white cream colored baggy long sleeve you wore stuck clinging to your body, your black shorts dripped with excess water that had soaked into the now heavy material.

Surely you couldn't tell either of them or anyone else what had really happened just yet- you wouldn't even know how to explain it yourself.

Sighing at the continued silence that followed after his questioning, Jungkook then lifted you into his strong arms with ease, holding you only for a moment before he grabbed a towel to dry you off.

"Well?"

Hearing the tone in Jungkook's voice, you couldn't help but feel a little worried since he was the overly jealous type.

And after all, you and Tae probably looked a little too close for comfort without a proper explanation in his eyes..

"She was overheating- and her head was in pain so I had to cool her down"

Tae spoke smoothly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slightly oversized pale-tan khaki pants.

"Why didn't you call for me. I could've helped her" Jungkook said lowly, earning a slight eye roll from the older.

Sensing the tension, you let your hand cup Jungkook's cheek to make him face you. "I said not to- I didn't want to worry you.."

You felt bad having to lie, but you would've felt worse if your current state had caused any more friction between the two older males.

After all, Taehyung was one of Jungkook's closest hyungs-

Feeling your touch seemed to put the worried male at ease as he gave a slight smile your way, to which you returned.

Taehyung cleared his throat with a hum, running a hand through his hair as he let himself slowly back out of the bathroom.

"You should get her changed into something comfy, maybe one of my silk shirts, she does love rolling around in them" he chuckled with a slight smirk before disappearing out of the room.

Your eyes widened slightly and you already felt the familiar heat rise to face.

'Aish Taehyung..'

"Oh really?"

You glanced back to Jungkook, feeling his arms that held you somehow pull you in closer against his firm warm chest.

"I- That was when I was a kitten of course-" you laughed nervously trying to avoid any further talk on the matter.

"Well, you're still my kitten"

Yoongi's POV

"Hyung are you sure this is the place?" I looked to Jin as he stepped out of the passenger side of my car.

We had to drive nearly to Incheon to get here, we were basically at the western edge of Seoul.

"Yoongi, I may be old but I'm pretty sure I know where I got my car towed" Jin retorted as he stepped out shortly after me.

Locking the vehicle, I put my keys into my coat pocket and stepped forward looking up at the small, worn out building.

"G.E.- "

Huh, their signs missing a letter- this place looks like it hasn't had any business in years-

"This doesn't look like a place were they keep towed cars"

The other let out a sigh, once again taking out the small crumpled piece of paper to show me.

"Yah, I'm aware of that, but this is the address on the receipt they gave me so wether it 'looks' like a place where they keep cars or not this better be where my car is" Jin huffed shoving the paper that he had previously been waving in my face back into his pocket.

I knew I should've let Jimin drive him here instead of me-

Without any further complaints, I followed the older up the short flight of steps and walked inside the establishment.

It was cold inside, slightly dim but the flickering of a single light on the ceiling provided some light.

At least the sun was still up by the time we got here, already I got the sense I definitely wouldn't wanna be in this place at night-

The interior was painted a dull white that probably only became dull with age, along with matching marble tiled floors.

Potted plants were neatly placed at each corner of what appeared to be a waiting area, with only two black leather furnished chairs against the right side wall from the entrance.

"I guess we just wait here-" I spoke taking a seat as Jin gave me a glance after he himself finished eyeing around the room.

"Wait hell, I want my car and I'm not waiting in this creepy room for longer than I need to-"

"Ah, you're finally here. And you've brought a friend excellent"

The both of us looked forward to the front of the room where a large desk counter was placed, watching as a slightly smiling man stepped out from the door behind it.

"Hyung you know this guy?" I mumbled under my breath, getting up from my seat as I kept my eyes on the stranger as he headed towards us.

"No-" Jin replied quickly tugging on my coat sleeve, as if to help me get up quicker.

The man looked older than us, his hair was black and appeared to be gelled, no grey hairs so maybe in his late thirties or early forties.

Oddly he was dressed nice, despite his outfit being all black.

He wore a dark black dress shirt, black pants, and some nice matching leather shoes of which I'm sure were from an expensive name brand.

One wouldn't get the impression this guy worked at a place that handles cars- more of an office type place.

"Kim Seokjin I presume? You're car is out all ready to go, and you are?"

I narrowed my eyes and looked down at the mans hand that extended to me, finally deciding to reach out, I gave it a shake.

"I'm with him" I responded vaguely before clearing my throat.

"And you are?" I repeated the mans words to him causing him to chuckle.

"Hanseong"

It sounds familiar but I couldn't imagine anyone else having that name.

"My father was into historical figures so I'm sure if you know anything about the Joseon dynasty you'll understand its meaning" he responded after seeming to notice my thinking.

He sounded almost prideful.

Guess I'll have to do some digging on that with Jungkook later.

"If you don't mind, we've got a bit of a drive back so, my car?" Jin bowed his head respectfully and took out his wallet.

"Oh there won't be any need for that it's already taken care of" Hanseong waved his hand as he started walking right towards the way we entered.

"But-"

Quickly, I smacked Jin in the chest with the back of my hand, causing him to stare at me with his eyes wide and mouth agape as if he was about to snap.

"If this weirdo says you don't have to pay then you DON'T HAVE TO PAY" I  whisper yelled raising my brows at the other before I followed behind the stranger.

As we all exited, there was Jin's car, parked perfectly right beside mine.

I looked over at Hanseong, who stood outside the doors of the building watching as Jin inspected his car, who then nodded at me signalling everything was alright.

"Everything in order Mr. Kim?" The older man questioned tucking his hands into his pants pockets.

He nodded getting into his car and closing the door.

"Yes- thank you- you were very quick and professional, I'll be sure to give you 10 stars on yelp" Jin chuckled nervously to which I just rolled my eyes.

Following Jin, I got into my own car and gave him an annoyed glance as I started the engine after he did.

Raising my head, I looked one last time to the smiling older male through my windshield before he spoke.

"Sounds good, have a safe drive back. Mr. Kim, Mr. Min."

He waved turning on his heel only to disappear into the building as we pulled out of the buildings driveway, and began to head back home.

As I drove following shortly behind Jin, it took me maybe thirty minutes after going through all that had happened for me to realize.

The last thing Hanseong actually said.

"Mr. Min"

I never told him my name.

A/n: Please excuse my late update, they will be that way for awhile due to health reasons, I was supposed post this back in September but unfortunately I had to go to the hospital. Please be assured I'm recovering and it's hopefully nothing too serious. As always I hope you enjoyed~

-ⓙ