#HERE YOU GO

[king-the-third]

Personally i love it when creators talk tk the audience with the captions during quiet moments

i feel strongly about this

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table. 

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

       Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

       ❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

 “I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform. 

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

       Eddie –

       I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

       I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

       I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

       I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

       Yours,

       Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

[t1oui]

james potter is sixteen the first time he looks at regulus black and sees the most beautiful boy in the world.

he is sixteen when lily's slytherin girlfriend, pandora, leans in as she passes behind him on her way to the supply cupboard in potions and whispers, "chocolate frogs are his favorite."

he's sixteen when he spends a full day walking around hogsmeade with regulus, neither of them saying much and both of them wanting the day to continue. "this isn't a date," regulus insists. "not till i leave my parents."

and sirius said he would never do it.

james is sixteen when regulus first sends him a wink that makes his knees go weak, and he's sixteen when the smallest touch sends shocks through his spine.

"don't hurt my brother," sirius tells him through a bitten-back grin.

"don't get too attached," regulus tells him through a too-sweet smirk.

the black brothers, peter told him once, getting all philosophical as he does, they'll be the death of you. james doesn't think that'd be so bad.

james is sixteen when gryffindor loses the quidditch cup to slytherin. he runs across the field to regulus, but when he goes in for a hug, regulus pulls back, smiling.

"not yet, mon amour," he says, and it's not until marlene dumps her water bottle on his head fifteen minutes later that james fully comes to.

james is sixteen when he goes home for the summer before his seventh year and regulus squeezes his hand before he leaves the train. "soon," he says, and then he's gone. james curls into remus and prays that this means what he thinks it does.

it's a week away from his seventeenth birthday when the owl comes, bringing with it a letter in regulus's perfect scrawl reading, i did it. see you on the first. james spends the entire evening telling first an exhausted sirius and then is mum about all the dates he'll take regulus on once they're together.

james is seventeen on the first of september, and when regulus jumps into his arms, it feels like coming home.

[timethehobo]

A little treat for the Emmrich romancers?

[may12324]

✨️Fairy wall charm designs ✨️

These will be double sided and printed in thick 300gsm card, and be 8 inch in height (not including the tassel). Each will either have a matching tassel or hanging beads- depending on availability.

I will have these at conventions this year and also online- later in the year. If folks are interested- let me know 👀

[classical-bluess]

Wolftaro on main

[artistmarchalius]

Yet another catalog page! We’re breaking away from just using shades of red this time with Fem!Vox in outfits from the late 1950’s!

Of course I had to give her a more 50’s style head to match her clothes. Black and white television screen version is below the cut.

Fem!Alastor’s catalog page Rosie’s catalog page

I can’t resist historical accuracy, but the black and white screen wasn’t reading too well as Vox. Technically both versions are historically accurate since there were public colour television broadcasts in the mid 1950’s, they just weren’t as common as black and white ones. I wouldn’t think Hell would be as kind as to manifest Vox with the latest technology, plus I just like the idea of Vox having a black and white TV head phase.

[mxmearcstapa]

The Renowned Heavensward Expansion

[tblsomedoodles]

Here's an art/info dump about this stupidly cute idea that's been rotating in my brain for three day.

(the first comic here is just how they first met. they ended up in the same alley, pestering the same cat without noticing. Then the cat left and they notice they're not alone lol)

(Second is Donnie 'talking' with Mikey for the first time. He only uses Mind Mend to communicate and is just as surprised as Mikey to find it worked on him. (it has only worked with Leo before this))

I'll put the rest under a break b/c i will be going off about this and i don't want it to take up your entire feed.

I'm jokingly calling this "Mikey's Imaginary Friends" though that might change if i continue this.

Basically it's this, the twins grew up with Draxum while Raph and Mikey grew up with Splinter. Neither set knew about the other (b/c splinter though they were dead and didn't want his two remaining kids to worry about it, and Draxum was too focused on fixing his lab to pay much attention to the twins.) So, imagine Mikey's shock when, at age 8, he's out exploring topside (having snuck out) and runs into two more mutant turtles (who also snuck out and are exploring.) Thus begins an ongoing sneaking out to meet up thing between the three b/c Mikey's excited to have new friends and the twins are just as fascinated with Mikey as he is with them.

And before you ask, "hey, why doesn't Mikey tell his family about the two other turtles?" he does. Raph thinks he just made up some imaginary friends so he plays along but doesn't believe they're real. Splinter, on the other hand, thinks he's talking to Hamato ancestors due to some very big miscommunications (that i'll probably draw out at some point b/c it's silly)

Twins background wise, i'm still thinking through a lot of it, but i'll put my thoughts down anyways.

Draxum knew that training the twins at a young age would be counterproductive, so he doesn't train them beyond some basics a few times a week. Other than those sessions, he leaves them alone with their less-than-stellar caretaker, in favor of rebuilding his lab. The caretaker doesn't do much for them beyond give them food and very basic school like lessons. Beyond that the twins are left on their own.

they come to the conclusion that the only people that will care for them is themselves. They discover Mind Meld very early as a result of this and will not talk verbally b/c they found out early on with their caretaker, that if they tried to talk, they were just ignored anyways, so what's the point.

(I'm also thinking Donnie might be deaf or hard of hearing in this, with the pair of them using Mind Meld as a way for him to temporarily hear through Leo and thus keep Drax from finding out. but i'll have to do some more research before i decide for sure/figure out the specifics)

as for Meeting Mikey

That's why they became so fascinated with mikey. B/c mikey was the first person that treated them like a person and not a job or an incomplete experiment. (He's also so happy and bright, they can't avoid getting drawn to him lol)

Mikey's probably the only one they verbally start talking to, even after they teach him mind meld. (though Leo's the one to pick up on that more than Donnie. Donnie doesn't do much talking at all outside mind meld).

They also come out of their shells (hehe) a lot as they interact more with Mikey. Before they met him, they acted more like automatons, even when alone. The more they socialize with Mikey, the sillier these two get. Leo learns about puns and starts going mad with them, Donnie starts happy stimming about thing (which he has either been suppressing or just never had the urge to do before.) Basically they stop acting like little creepy statues and start acting like kids.

Honestly, it's just a cute idea with the kiddos meeting each other and Mikey inadvertently socializing his not-well-socialized brothers.

(also, the twins wear masks b/c Donnie doesn't like the smell of the city and he's worried about germs. Not for any ninja reasons, what so ever.)

Alright, that's it for my info dump. maybe more later? Maybe not? Depends on how much longer these kids keep my attentions (though right now, they're doing a pretty good job at it lol)

[naivegh0ul]

I feel like Ghost is the type of guy who pretends he hates the whole 'bored and ignored' thing but actually loves it so much. Gets so hard when you don't pay any attention to his hand slipping down your jeans.

Or when you're on your phone and Ghost yanks you into his lap, expecting you to gasp and get shy like you usually do and you just... don't react. You just keep scrolling on your phone while Ghost's hips grind against yours.

And the one thing that turns him on beyond belief, the one thing that makes him cum is when he's inside you and you try to reach for your phone, like he's not doing a good enough job and you need something else to entertain you.

You're not even making any sounds aside from the occasional wheeze as you struggle to type your password in from your body jerking around. He'd try so hard to get your attention, tilting his hips to hit your sweet spot, slapping your ass.

But you don't care, you're doing your own thing as you pull up a porn website and turn on a video, moaning at the things happening on screen and not at what Ghost is doing to you.

[hyalinemin]

[meluli]

[starfxkrinc]

wanna know what really went down the first time jj and sweet pea fucked?

you could barely focus the rest of the day, this was different. this wasn't the boys in your class sneaking in for a 8 minute pump and dump. jj was a man, one that's been whispered about all your life. always seen coming out of someone's trailer hours after their husband left.

the subject of the first wet dream that left you shaking and rutting against your pillow.

now it was real. flesh and blood. you paced throughout the living room, watching as the time crept from midnight, to fifteen minutes past and he still wasn't here. you were beginning to worry he stood you up when the backdoor creaked open.

clumsily, you skittered to him as he poked his head through the door, stepping through and stopping you before you crashed into him.

"woah woah, slow down," he closed the door behind you. he locked it. and it all began to feel too real, "lemme get a good look at you."

heart thudding you let him look over you, you didn't know what to expect. his hand travelled from your cheek to your breast, swiping a thumb over you nipple, smirking when you gasp as it puckers.

"what's all this?"

nervously you giggle, and now you're second guessing yourself. you thought he'd like it. you didn't wanna give him the same experience you gave everyone else-- sleep shorts and an old t-shirt--you wanted to prove you could be more. take more. so you put on your nicest dress even if that wasn't saying much. you matched your underwear. swiped on some red lipstick.

all in all you wanted to look older.

"you don't like it?" you looked down at your feet and cringed at the sparkly polish on your toes.

jj just shrugs, "lets sit down for a bit."

'a bit' turns into an hour. and you sit on the far side of the couch the whole time. suddenly you regret this. it's all too much, the weight of your age difference hangs heavily between you. you want him to leave.

before you can speak, jj breaks the silence, "why you sittin all the way over there hm? c'mere." you don't get the option to move before he reaches over, wrapping his tattooed hand around your thigh to pull you across the couch with ease. the snarling dog looks ready to tear through your guts.

he tucks you closer and you know he can feel you shaking, breaths coming out in quick gasps as he strokes your soft skin, his other hand coming up to your cheek, "you're such a pretty girl. i don't know why you put all this shit on your face." jj rubs his thumb across your lip, smearing the red as you struggle to speak.

"i don't want you to look at me like a little kid."

"who says that bothers me?"

your bottom lips trembling. you want him to leave but the request dies in your throat when he kisses you and you could almost keel over from the heat.

this was. different. jj kisses like he's gonna devour you. it's not sloppy and wet like the other boys. you can feel each slide of his tongue against yours in your panties. it's too much. you want to pull away.

you fall back onto the cushions. the dog cups your cunt.

when he pulls back your gasping, and jj laughs down at you like an amused father, "like that?"

you nod but you feel embarrassed, there's no way he can't feel how wet you are between your clenched thighs. not with how he rubs his palm against you.

"breathe sweetheart, i got you."

it's only then you realize you're practically hyperventilating. he has to leave before this goes too far.

"relax, open up let me see." jj coaxs you like a feral cat, smushing his palm against you as the tension melts out of you. you look even more vulerable with your lipstick smeared and your panties stuck to you lips. when he unbuttons your dress he groans.

you're matching, lacy black bra and black panties. a cherry embroidered on the front. a little girl's idea of sexy underwear.

"jj..." your voice brings him back to the present, your eyes are wide and watery and he wonders what he looks like to you, "can we--can we just watch a movie or something?"

he grips your thigh tighter, "why'd you invite me over then? thought you were just gonna cock tease me and send me on my fuckin way?"

"no! i just--i don't feel--"

when he grabs your throat your stomach drops, "i'm not one of your little boyfriends. i'm not playin this hot n cold shit with you."

now you're whole body's trembling and you look near tears, so he reels back, relaxing his hold on your throat to something softer, "i know you're scared, it's all new and you're used to being in charge."

sniffling you nod, "they never know what to do."

"right. i know what i'm doin. no games. me and you, like adults. and you're a big girl sweet pea. i wouldn't do anything you can't handle."

jj takes your smile as a yes, you needed the validation, you needed to feel like an equal in this.

he knows you're not.

when slides down and spreads you open he has to take a second, groaning into your thigh because for how scared you claim to be you're so fucking wet. a milky trickle of arousal drips down between your asscheeks and his tongue fucking throbs at the thought of tasting you. so he does. starting from the crack of your ass and trailing up to your puffy clit before he latches on.

"god fuck!"

he can feel your thighs shaking around his head, clamping shut as you bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the noise. jj's confident he's never tasted anything like you--heady and musky. despite his nose being buried in your bush he can smell your sweet, fruity lotion mixing with the scent of your pussy and he feels fucking dizzy. like he's been given a shot of black tar heroin right to the heart.

you're really gasping now, hips bucking under his strong grip as he licks and sucks like he's trying to reach the peach pit of your guts. ravenous like a starving dog.

"please make me cum, i'm gonna f-fuck-cum please."

your clit pulses and twitches between his lips, and all it takes is a couple more sucks before flooding his mouth. and he all but licks you clean.

it's only when you're flinching does jj pull back, kissing up your body as you lay there, eyes closed--sated.

"where's your room?"

your eyes fluttered opened, surprised. you were done, nobody's ever made you cum like this before and you didn't even think you could go again, "what? but i'm-"

"don't start that shit. you asked me over, you're done when i say you're done."

that sick feeling again. he had to leave.

"no- no jj you have to go, it's late and i don't think we should--"

bad move, very bad move. because he hauled you up like it was nothing--half naked and blubbering that you were done. that it'd gone too far and you wanted him to leave as he kicked open one door, then another as he found your room.

"cute."

he threw you down so fast you barely got a chance to bounce before he was on top of you, pinning you down with a hand on your throat as you sobbed, "jj please, i won't tell anyone you came over just go home! i'm sorry, i can't do this, i changed my mind!"

"tough shit little girl. next time? don't ask to fuck if you don't wanna fuck." when he drops his pants you cry harder, and he lays it against your stomach, "look at that. that's how deep ima be sugar."

hauling your thighs to your chest he practically squats over you, pressing the uncut head of his dick to your pouting hole, "shit, can you even take all this..." it's like he's not even talking to you, bullying his way in as you beat against his chest in tears.

"please--please stop it hurts!"

jj smiles at you, mean and predatory with a sharklike grin. the dog grabs your face, covering your mouth, its maw open to drink up your tears.

"you’ll be okay."

he drops his hips and if it weren't for the hand on your mouth you'd scream the house down. you're so flared around his base its a miracle you don't split in two. but jj just groans, loud and long as he starts fucking into you, "shit. you taste sweet sugar but goddamn you feel sweeter. you sure you aint a virgin?"

you sob, you feel sick, but he's filling you like no one has before, you can feel your heart beating in your clit stronger with each thrust, "no--i just--fuck that's--"

you let out a shaky moan and jj knows he got you, cockdrunk and hazy like you weren't just begging him to stop, "yeah i know. babys gettin her first real fuckin."

his hips slam so hard against yours they bounce off the bed, your hands wandering as you struggle to find something to hold onto. never in your life have you felt like this, hot and cold all at once, like someone's found a way to set your nervous system alight. even your skin feels sensitive when his palm rubs against your stomach.

"you were fuckin made for this sweet pea, fuckin tellin ya. lord knows how long i wanted this."

the truth's itching at his tongue, the fact that he's been thinking about this for years, far longer than he should have, like you dont still have baby fat on your hips.

"m-me too."

"yeah...how long?"

when you cry this time it's from embarrassment, shielding yourself from his view with your palms, "since...since i was 11 i dreamt about you."

he gets a flash of you then, suddenly shy around him, near tears when he talked to you and running back to your room after he patted your back.

"you wanted your daddy even back then?"

hysterical now--from embarrassment, from arousal from it all-- you wail, "yes!"

jj shudders, he can feel it wrap around the base of his spine, it won't be long so he smushes he thumb against your clit, not even rubbing, just the steady pressure, "alright. alright, i'm here now i've been waitin on you baby, you're my little girl now."

no noise comes out when you cum, not for a long while before you let out a long shuddering wheeze as you cream around him. and he's right behind you, groaning and pressing so close you feel his balls twitch against your ass while he cums sticky and hot against your cervix.

you're still crying when he pulls out--panting like a dog and he collapses next to you.

"hey, stop cryin you're fine."

guilt and disgust has wrapped itself around you. he's dug his way deep into your core. you don't feel so grown up anymore.

[slainsloan]

I NEED THE BRUSH YOU USE FOR YOUR ART, WE IBIS PAINT USERS ARE DYING

My lineart brushes that I've been using ALOT lately!

All of them are custom ones except the genius pen! :)

[thecoldsoldiers]

A/B/O Randomizer

The mission was supposed to be straightforward, take out the target, eliminate the Alpha silently and slip back to his handlers before anyone noticed but somewhere along the way everything had gone wrong. He’d missed, been shot at, and now he was bleeding, leaving a trail through the woods.

Normally Asset wouldn’t worry about his scent, but this time was different, he was on a clock and the suppressant patch on his neck was wearing out faster from the adrenaline coursing through him. The muzzle on his face blocked all scents and kept him from being able to tell if his own was even still working or not and he could feel the panic growing in his chest.

Lost, surrounded by trees that all looked the same, the situation was spiraling. He wasn’t supposed to run into the team, only take out their leader and he knew that was unlikely now. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each footstep that drew closer only made things worse. He couldn’t risk being found. With a desperate whimper, he made a snap decision, pushing through the pain and fear. He ran, praying that the suppressants would hold long enough to keep his omega scent from giving him away.

>> @zemothethirteenth