#needless to say it fucking ruled

[edsbacktattoo]

OH I WOULD BE FUCKING DELIGHTED!!

titty whale, more formally known as The Skywhale, was created by Australian designer Patricia Piccinini, who specializes in hyper realist sculptures with themes surrounding bio-ethics and dystopian futures. Her work is stunning and often a bit confronting. I won't attach pictures here, but I highly recommend her work!

The thing about Canberra is that this place is fucking boring. It's the capital of Australia where almost nothing ever happens. It's expensive as fuck to live here, and there is virtually nothing to do. The parliament of Australia is here, so most of the goings-on involves politics.

So the centenary rolls around and our government thinks, 'let's prove to the world how not boring we are' and commissions our beloved Patricia Piccinni for a piece.

Behold. Titty Whale is born. Observe here in all her glory.

people on twitter were calling her 'terrifyingly nipply.' can you believe that?

As you can imagine, some folks loved her and some hated her in all her breasty majesty. Now, her harpooning incident was in fact a satire article, though people were angry enough at her mere presence to threaten her livelihood. The joke itself, however, was funny enough that we've (Canberrans) largely adopted at as truth. We have a habit of doing this. If there's one thing this country does, it's commit to the bit.

She did, unfortunately, suffer a boob injury before one of her flights in the humble city of Ballarat, this time alongside her new companion, the Skywhalepapa.

here's the happy couple <3 (papa rears the young btw)

Skywhale has (thankfully) since seen repairs. The National Gallery now keeps the happy family safe

In regards to the furry incident, it was super cool going to Woolies for a weekly grocery shop and coming home with Free Furry Art for the kids. It was a simpler time.

What about that time Australia hired a furry artist for the Olympics. Still better art than the ACT centennial hot air balloon.

2021: The Royal Australian Mint puts out a call for artists to submit portfolios of "Japanese style" cartoons, in preparation for a commemorative series of coins and artworks to be released for the Tokyo Olympics.

The campaign would have a cross promotional tie-in with Australia's largest supermarket, Woolworths where 24 million collectables themed on the artworks would be given away.

It wasn't until the final artist was selected that they realised the people at the Royal Australian Mint had somehow mistaken the anthropomorphised animal-humans that seemed popular on the internet for a popular children's cartoon franchise.

“They knew exactly what they wanted," explained the artist, "we worked together to make sure they got what they envisioned, I tailored what I made to their examples/feedback. They just didn’t know there was a word for it, basically, or that it was SO popular.”

Needless to say, when the artworks were released online people immediately called a spade a spade, headlines were made around the world, and the furry community expressed bemused joy that the Australian government had apparently just released an official fursona.

Unfortunately for those innocent soles that had planned the campaign, given they had just minted $24 million worth of furry coins they couldn't exactly scrap the whole thing, and they were forced to just push ahead while doing their best to ignore the large community of internet oddballs salivating at their every move.

Anyway, here's some of the art:

Here's some of the collectable cards given out free to kids by Woolworths:

[archaeopteryxcircus]

Here's a drawing based on what happened in a dnd session with my character.

[dickaspointed]

𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑬𝑫𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑬𝑵- !

𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 !! 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.

HEESEUNG felt all too giddy with you in the same bed as him. he couldn’t help but sneak glances and looks here and there, especially when the moon cascaded over your little body compared to his. you barely took up half the bed in comparison to him, and don’t get him started on those short shorts and tank top that did horrible jobs at hiding your modesty. by one am, your legs are thrown over the creases of his elbows, his name rolling off your tongue like a mantra as your shorts dangled just over his shoulder. he couldn’t keep his desires at bay.

SUNGHOON acted tough like sharing a bed with you was no big deal, but on the inside it was an internal battle for him not to pop a boner. that stupid moomoo you wore that accentuated your breasts and ass definitely didn’t help keep one from forming in his sweats. he promised to keep it PG tonight but when you slid into bed besides him, smelling like a fresh sweet cake he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you until your moomoo was somewhere over the clouds, your chest and throat covered in hickies he’d have to explain tomorrow.

JAY was decently good at keeping his composure. he had shared a bed with you numerous times, but this time it was different because this time you were his. with your ass pressed to his pelvis, his hand underneath your top, gently fondling your right breast he tried to lull off to sleep. but your whiny moans and twitching ultimately ruined all the composure he had. flipping you onto your stomach, he mounted from behind, tearing your shorts and panties off in a slick motion for better access. the others wouldn’t let you two share a room anymore because they got no sleep with how loud you were.

JAKE purposefully made sure every trip that you two ended up together, if that meant bribing everyone with lots of money so they’d willingly book a hotel with one less room for everyone. Jake would sadly break the news to you, pouting to really add to the bit. in the end, it worked in his favor because you’d be straddling him that night, his hair between your fingers as you rode him like your life depended on it. Jungwon would end up banging on the door, asking you two to kindly “shut the fuck up.”

SUNOO was nervous every time you had to bunk with him. he’d go the extra mile to make sure you were comfortable, he wouldn’t even sleep without socks. one night, all of that flew right out of the open window when you cuddled up to him, tucking your face into his collarbone. your soft whimpers of enjoyment fueled something inside of him, he tapped your back gently. it was nothing but fireworks from that night on, blissful orgasms that made both of you see stars and shake violently against one another.

JUNGWON being the leader it was only right that he let you bunk with him. he had a set of rules that seemed to go right through the floor when you came back from a steamy shower with dewy skin and a nighty that hugged your body in all the right places. you asked him if this was alright for his “rules”, whilst smoothing your hands down your body. he sucked in a deep breath, looking towards the door before ultimately deciding whether or not he wanted to be ridiculed in the morning. needless to say, after an eventful, blissful night with Jungwon, that nighty was ripped to shreds and he had to explain what all those weird sounds were last night.

NI-KI put his cold feet up the back of your shirt and kicked you off the bed with both very large feet.

K BYE!!

actually, before i leave i wanted to say thanks for all the reblogs and likes!!! i really appreciate whomever likes and blogs, thanks a ton! and please if you feel comfortable (AND 18+ because i’m not playing) leave some requests of what you wanna see and what member !! besides ni-ki <3

[gremlingottoosilly]

i recently went to the zoo and there was a cheetah who was bonded w this dog and i was imagining maybe monster!konig is in some sort of zoo/science lab thing and he gets bonded w kitten hybrid!reader!!

idk idk lolll i just could not stop thinking abt it

Staying in captivity as researchers are trying to understand how a simple ocean-type hybrid could grow so strong - how a normally pliable monster can be so aggressive and intelligent at the same time; scientists kinda treat him like their prized hound, a really nice and expensive possession they can do whatever they want with. They want to keep the subject happy and compliant with the research - but Konig dismissed any potential companion they brought to him before. Dismissed them violently, often killing poor fucker before the security could do anything. They dropped you in as a wild guess, a suggestion from one of the interns - if Konig gets insanely territorial when faced with hybrids of similar strengths and types, maybe he could do better with a therapy pet, something fluffy, small, and absolutely harmless. Needless to say, the intern was promoted after the first night Konig spent buried between your legs, fucking you for long enough that the whole lab would watch - and he didn't kill you by the end of the day. If anything, he bred you, properly and nicely. If anything, they have just found a way to make him less angry during the checkups - if they allow him to fuck you right before the research process, he would be...almost fine. Almost calm. He bonds with you easily - you're a cat hybrid, small thing, completely harmless. You could do some damage to humans with your claws and teeth, but Konig is off-limits, and you know this. He is fine with you biting and marking him - he searched such affection, he fucking adores it and wants you to do it more. Researchers think they finally found a key to him, that he is finally willing to participate in the experiments... Oh, they couldn't be more wrong. Once Konig gets a taste of how precious his mate is, he starts to think of why the hell he even supports these guys. Winds are changing - and monsters soon will be ruling the society. It's a good thing you already found yourself a protector, right?

[renonv]

Please tell us more about Germany and Spain being dropped in the past somehow. I’m so curious about how Ludwig would react as Rome’s biggest fan and Antonio just wanting to get home lol

HAJSJSHS THANK YOU FOR BEING CURIOUS ❤️ I got some ramblings under the cut, and I’ll draw more for this idea laterrr

I think in this scenario Ludwig would NOT be super helpful outside of having some general knowledge of history / minor culture, but even that knowledge is just over powered by the sheer “holy shit I’m in Ancient Rome” of it all. He just honestly wants to explore.

He’s having a great time, he’s living THE dream, and probably honestly thinks that it is all just an actual dream. So needless to say his self preservation and normal calculated approach is out the window. This guy is willing to do whatever he can to talk to Rome. Maybe to even try and experience the ancient art form of wrestling.

Antonio having lived under the Roman rule and witnessing what the old cunt can do, is NOT trying to fuck around and find out. Especially since they were clocked as countries, and are on the older side, they pose a more potential threat to Rome. He is STRESSED out and the fact that Ludwig is having his tourist fan moment is not helping. He doesn’t love having to be in the position of the serious leader, but will make sure the two of them make it back home (somehow). In the moments where they aren’t actively being hunted, he shares some ancient lore with Ludwig :3

[tarotenchantress]

Astro observations ptIV "am i stupid?" edition🧠

DO NOT PLAGIARISE MY WORK🚫

All these observation are my personal observations

Tw: brief mention of physical abuse

BY- tarorenchantress🧚🏻‍♀️

I made this post cause i toooooo, have been mocked for my intelligence alot. Alot of times.

Hello guyssss!!!! im back with another edition. In this one were gonna discuss the placements that may indicate that you underestimate you intelligence, or others do or others have called you stupid or mocked your intelligence or simply underestimated.

🧠 saturn in 3rd house, 9th house, aspecting mercury, in the houses of gemini, sag, in the degrees 3°,15°,27°.

[Saturn restricts and here's the thing, 3rd house governs your early childhood and learning imo. It also governs your schools and neighbours whilst on the other hand, 9th house governs travelling and higher education alongside your higher mind and religeon and faith and mercury needless to say determines your intellect and mind. Saturn rewards but creates a harsh environment and also and it also rules discipline. This placement indicates that you may have felt that you always had to work harder than your peers to achieve the same as them. It may akso indicate that no matter what you may have always felt inadequate and average at best. It may also indicate that authority figures may have been harsher with you or may have doubted your intelligence and neglected you or they may have been more attentive towards you than other students as they may not have alot of confidence in you. You may also see your peers travel before you but you may not even know the basics of travelling or may feel very stupid when it comes to how to travel alone and may have started travelling later than your peers. You may learnt hings later than your peers or they may have learnt alot of things before you . Like bitchhh i have saturn in 9th house right and heres the thing, i felt so stupid whenever i would travel with my friends cause they all could do it like booking the cab, going on solo trips with friends but i couldnt do that and hate travelling alone too. Like i would rather die than actually travel alone even though it intrigues me. 9th house also governs foreign travel snd i always wanted to go to abroad to study pyschology but not only did i never go abroad i alsooooo did not get to choose psychology and instead my parents made me choose law. Also indicates that you may have started speakinglater than your peers as saturn also delayss ]

🧠 asteroid nessus in 3rd house, 9th house, aspecting mercury, aspecting 3rd house, 9th house, in the degree of 3°,15°,27°

[I have nessus in 3rd house and growing up, i always felt neglected by my peers, by my teachers, my parents would mock me, call me names because i struggled to understand maths, i even got beat with a belt by my dad because i couldnt understand conversion in metric system and inches and geometry as well. Basically all of maths. I would avoid studying like it was a plague. I was also constantly compared with other students by my parents and would feel extremely insecure of other people scoring well. I also had horrible self esteem and wouldnt answer as i feared being mocked and the one time i did answer,the teacher looked at me and told me that it waas wrong snd then called me near the white board and made me solve it and i struggled too and my hands were shaking and everyone laughed at me😀like????? Bitch?????😀 oneof my classmates even called me weird so ig??? Fuck you too bitch, you were weird too😀

Nessus is where you are abused and picked on and how you do it to others

It may also indicate being compared to your sibling or the children you study with or the neighbourhood children.

It got better in highschool but bitch please. Never again.

Similar effects can be seen with 9th house as it also governs college and travelling, religeon and law. Like you may feel like you are dumb when it comes to travelling. Like you may not even know how to book tickets or do basic shit for travelling. It may also indicate that you may have a fear of travelling eventhough you see your peers do it. Alsoo, relegious study or things that require faith may make you feel stupid. ]

🧠chiron in 3rd house, 9th house, in the degrees of 3°,15°,27°, aspecting mercury, aspecting3rd house, 9th house in gemini, sag.

[I have mercury conjunct chiron and i was constantly attacked for my intelligence. Like people would just call me dumb esp my tuition teachers]

🧠 mercury or sun in pisces, cancer, aquarius, capricorn, mercury making negative aspects with saturn, pluto, nessus, 4th house, 12th house, aspe ting 12th house too.

[If you have any of these placements, you may have noticed that people tried to gaslight you or question your memory or you learnt things slowly or people did not understand your mind or you may have felt misunderstood by them and mocked. May indicate someone who was soft spoken, or considered weird esp pisces and aqua, someone who had issues taking a stand for themselves. Aqua mercs could have exerienced being mocked by their friends. These placements may also daydream alot as a form of escapism.

Like, i remember this guy i was studying with, he once said that his tuition teacher considered him stupid cause he "looked" like he did not understand anything and he would also ask the this guy if actually understood anything 💀 and he was the topper of grade for 6 consecutive years btww. Je was a pisces sun Oh most of the people i know who were extremely creative have these placements]

🧠 neptune aspecting mercury, neptune in 3rd house, 9th house, in the gemini degrees 4°,15°,27° , neptune aspecting sun, ascendant, mc, aspecting the 3rd house, 9th house, even 10th house

[Neptune tends to create confusion and haze in whatever area it is present. People with this placement may xonstantly feel as if they dont understand whatever theyre reading or learning, may have been "invisible" in school, may have been average in school, good with creative works and imagination, people may not have afixed perception about you or may be veryconfused about you. Your teachers or parents may feel very confused about you understanding the concepts, some may even say you "look" stupid.

Like i have neptune aspecting my sun and ascendant and i had my teachers say i look blank and lost. I also got the title of the "quiet one" in 8th grade cause i was too soft spoken and rarely opened my mouth]

🧠pluto aspecting 3rd house, 9th house, mercury, degrees of gem 3°,15°,27°, in gemini in sag, in 3rd house, in 9th house.

I have mercury conjunct pluto and i always had people attack my intelligence by calling me names as a "joke"

[lasciviouspoison]

back with another chubby girl x ur fave post!!! hope y’all enjoy! this is a black reader x whoever post, but anyone can enjoy! catered to my fellow chubby girlz cause we rule the world <3

toji likes chubby girls. idc idc argue wit ya mama!

he always loved the idea of being able to surprise his pretty lil gf by picking her up like she weighs nothing and fuckin her anywhere he sees fit. <3

has 100% posted something along the lines of “i like bitches wit stomachs!! pussy always good and she soft!!” he def blew up on the net that day :/

but! needless to say, you came into his life shortly after.

you were a bit weary stumbling across him that sunny afternoon. seeing that fine ass 6’2, 280 pound man, completely covered in tattoos during your downtown walk was not in your cards for the day.

i mean, he looked scary as shit walking down the side walk. dressed in a short sleeved black compression shirt and black sweats, he seriously looked like he was getting ready to beat up the next person he saw. then the scar on his lip didn’t make him any more approachable looking.

you literally thanked your lucky star that you would enter your favorite coffee shop before having to walk past him. so imagine your surprise when you suddenly felt a tap on your shoulder while standing in line and seeing this same man give you the cutest smile.

he eventually convinced you to let him take you out later that night, and you’ve never looked back!

he constantly tells you “we don’t needa bed baby, i can hold you up jus fine”, with a devious look on his face. he thinks it’s funny when you get that surprised look when he fucks you standing up. he wouldn’t dare let his pretty baby sit on a dirty club sink, so, what better way to prevent that then by holding you!!

you absolutely love it. you’ve finally found a man that loves your weight and couldn’t care shit else about it. sure, toji works out like 6 times a week and is absolutely ripped, but he’d never make you work out unless you wanted to. and even then he’s questioning you, “why the fuck you wanna do that? you’re perfect the way you are, lil girl”. you just roll your eyes and rise up off the couch, but not before toji gives that ass a nice, hefty smack. of course you look at him like he’s crazy, but he just goes back to scrolling on his phone while biting back a laugh.

all of his friends don’t rlly get it, but he doesn’t give a fuck. seeing your pretty face and chubby cheeks makes him wanna giggle like a school girl, though, he’ll never admit it.

he’s also 100% the type to grab your rolls/stomach while laying in the bed. you look at him crazy every time and all he does is smile and give you a fat, wet kiss. “stop lookin at me ‘fore i put a baby in you”. suddenly ur eyes are wide open

ugh, toji just luvs the big gworls! :p

[libraryraccoon]

A Penguin And The Angel Of Death

Gift for : @deadghosy

Gender : Penguin

Pronouns : They/Them

Message of Raccoon : I just really wanted to write Azrael with Penguin!Reader, so I try.

TW : bad english, english isn't my first language.

How you met Azrael is a mystery for everyone.

Azrael had heard about Heaven and Hell fighting over a penguin, and he decided to go check it out.

"So you're the famous Penguin." -Azrael, seeing you for the first time.

Friendship. Instantly.

He was your platonic soulmate.

I can see Azrael taking you flying with him. Imagine being a normal angel or demon, looking up and seeing the angel of death flying, holding a penguin in his arms.

The day of the trial, you and Azrael were watching everything from the sidelines, eating popcorn.

“Do you think they know you’re going to stay with me ?” -Azrael, watching the scene while eating popcorn, amused.

You made a penguin noise that can be translates as "Sshh, this is starting to get interesting." -Penguin!Reader, watching the scene like a TV novela.

Azrael speaks penguin. Don't ask how, he just do it.

"Guardship returns to.." Sera paused, either in disbelief or to be dramatic. “Azrael ?!” Certainly the first.

“Yo bitch.”

They looked at him as if they were seeing him for the first time- they hadn't even noticed him.

"WHAT ?! BUT HE DON'T EVEN KNOW THEM !" -Lute.

You worried for a second for Azrael's safety before remembering that he was the Angel of Death and that he was in no danger.

Lucifer looks at his brother, feeling betrayed that he is taking one of his children away from him.

Azrael walked out of the room with you in his arms, happy of the trial he saw today.

Azrael is like your cool dad who takes you everywhere with him and takes you wherever you want.

Azrael can go to Heaven, Hell or even Earth just with a snap of his fingers, say your destination and he'll take you there with no problem.

You often go to Hell and Heaven because you are attached to the people that are there.

Azrael only leaves you alone with Lucifer or Emily.

Lucifer is basically your uncle who babysits you all the time.

You have met Big G and the other archangels. I don't make the rules, as soon as Azrael won your guardship, he introduced you to the rest of the family.

You are the archangels' favorite nephew and Big G's favorite grandchild.

I just know that you and Big G spent hours on grandpa-grandchild outings. You go to the beach, get ice cream, play jokes on others... until Azrael comes to pick you up.

I headcanon that you help Gabriel in his work as a messenger.

It was you who passed the message of Sir Pentious being in Heaven to Charlie, telling her that redemption was possible.

It was your first message, Gabriel and Azrael were very proud of you after you managed to successfully transmit it.

They had a party to celebrate it.

No one can fuck with you.

Literally, you have Azrael, Big G and all the archangels on your side. Upsetting you/being on your bad side is a death sentence.

Lute and Adam are so disgusted that Azrael stole you - like you can feel their jealousy at 3000km/h.

Azrael just smiled at them before calling you “his son/daughter/child” in front of them just to piss them off.

And it works.

I can see Alastor trying to make a deal with Azrael for you to stay at the Hotel, Azrael just looks at him like "Really now ?"

Needless to say, it never worked and if it wasn't for you, he would have already killed the deer demon.

The angels find it adorable that the fearsome angel of death is walking around with a little Penguin, it's just too cute for them.

Family dinners are ✨️beautiful✨️

Beautiful in the sense that it's chaotic and it's never bored.

Usually family dinners are you, Big G, Azrael, Lucifer, Charlie, and the other archangels.

But one day you invited Emily, Sera, Adam and Lute to join you..

Let's say you weren't bored during all the dinner.

The best moments are those of hugs.

Hugs with Azrael are the best because he wraps his wings around you while carrying you. It's so quiet and peaceful that it puts you to sleep, which is very useful especially when you can't fall asleep.

Hugs with the whole family are... interesting ?

I mean, from the outside it looked like a mess of nameless feathers-

You are always in the middle of family hugs.

Azrael almost executed all the exterminators after learning about the extermination that was directed against the hotel when you were in it..

LET ME CANONIZE PROTECTIVE!DAD!AZRAEL.

[batshit-auspol]

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[mythicmanuscripts]

SUB!AEGON HEADCANNONS

Alright since I just wrote sub!aemond headcannons, I think it's only fair that I follow it up with the same for Aegon! If you like what you see here, check out my blog to read my other works and feel free to send some requests or thoughts of your own!

Needless to say, NSFW content under the cut

right so firstly, needy. This will be a surprise to absolutely no one.

Aegon is in a constant state of whiny, pathetic horniness that leaves him whimpering and whining and tugging at your dress until you give him some attention.

From the very first time you show even the slightest bit of dominance towards him, he's obsessed. He's immediately following you around like a lost puppy.

You have to be harsh with him, and he actually thrives when you're so strict with him?

Aegon struggles a lot with both not feeling good enough and also feeling guilty and like a disappointment. So when you give him orders and he accomplishes them of course he feels great, but more importantly, when he breaks a rule and you punish him, then he actually feels so much better afterwards?

You use spanking the most. At first you tried to use silent treatment or not touching him as punishment first but both of those ended in Aegon sobbing into your chest because he thought you didnt love him anymore, so you don't do that again and always use spank him.

You spank him until his poor ass is bright red and he's crying and clutching a pillow as he's bent over your knee. But then, then when it's finished? Then you gently help him up and let him cuddle into your chest, kiss the top of his head and tell him he took his punishment so well and you forgive him and it's like he can physically feel a weight being lifted off his shoulders.

In fact sometimes you will need to spank him so that he can forgive himself and move on? Like maybe he'll do something stupid during a small council meeting or something and even though you arent upset with him, you take him over your knee anyway because otherwise he'll beat himself up for it until he ends up drowning his sorrows in wine.

Speaking of wine, Aegon's alcohol consumption is not even a quarter of what it was before. It's so much less that the master of coin actually starts ordering less wine for the castle.

Having heard so much about Aegon's notorious drinking, you thought it would be impossible to get him to lessen his drinking, but it turns out that it was actually extremely easy. You just tell him that if he wants to please you he needs to drink less, and instantly he's doing his level best.

Maybe you even control his wine consumption? You're the only one who can fill his glass and he can't drink wine without permission and he actually thrives?

Oh also, he's obsessed with you. His mood sours if he doesn't see you for an hour. He is so so so needy and he will make it absolutely everyone else's problem if he can't find you.

Also he wants to be fucked. If you don't have the equipment for that, then he will order some ivory or jade objects shaped like dildos and he will whine and beg and cry as you fuck him with them.

Also you have to overstimulate him at least twice a week, if you don't he will be utterly insufferable. And I don't just mean make him cum twice, I mean overstimulate him until he is sobbing and begging for mercy, until his poor cock can't even produce anything for his final orgasm.

And then you just have to gather him into your arms, letting him snuggle and kiss your neck and let out little whines until he's calmed down enough for you to haul him into a bath.

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 5) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part four | part six

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.9k

Present

“Please make your decision quickly. I think the fuckin’ cops are looking for me.” He says. His voice sounds deeper than you remembered. You thought you had imagined it in the diner, or that his change in tone was a consequence of his anger toward his brother, but there was no denying it here. You glaze over that comment about law enforcement apparently searching for him.

He was leaning slightly out the window of his truck, etching toward you so that you could hear him over the sound of the surrounding traffic. You feel Megumi tug on your jacket, so you look down at where he’s tucked in. 

You always knew he looked just like his father, your mind tormented you with that fact every waking moment, but it was hitting you now. Here you had the framework to sit and compare their faces from more than memory alone. 

Needless to say, all of the pictures you had of Toji had been destroyed after you found out he left town. All of the clothes he had given you or left in your room had been donated when you moved out of your mother’s house. You had no physical reminders of his existence aside from the child the two of you shared and the golden angel necklace that sat tucked away at the back of your dresser. It was sitting against the back of the drawer, tucked away in a pair of polka dot socks that you never wore. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that one.

“Momma, that man is swearing.” Megumi says in his sweet voice. You grimace. Is this how you wanted your son to meet his father? In response, you rub his back and try to muster a smile. “I know, baby.” You whisper to him. “We can talk about swearing later.” Megumi had taken “Don’t say ‘fuck’, you’re only four” to mean, “anyone that swears, including adults, should be chastised.” You would have to redo that lecture. 

You really, really shouldn’t get in the truck. You should carry on with your life and pretend that all of this never happened. That Toji isn’t in the flesh in front of you, looking more handsome than you had ever remembered. Looking just like his fucking son. So much like his son that it felt like you were being taunted. He could never deny Megumi again once he saw his face. Even people who weren’t close to you could see the resemblance. 

It’s cold, you justify to yourself as you adjust Megumi in your arms and stand up from the bench. We’ll get home quicker, you think as you round the front of his truck towards the passenger side. You’ve run out of excuses by the time you’re opening the door and sliding in his truck. 

There are countless reasons why you shouldn’t have even looked up while you heard him call you. For starters, the fact that he just said law enforcement is allegedly in pursuit. He’s been back in your life for less than an hour and you’re already doing stupid shit.

What the fuck. You keep Megumi tucked into your chest tight as you sit down in the truck. Megumi is facing his father, trying to get a read on the man his mother had broken the rules for. 

“Okay baby,” You had said to Megumi merely weeks prior, “If a stranger asks you to get in the car with them, what do we say?” You ask him, holding his little hand in yours. 

“My momma said no!” He says. The two of you were sitting on your living room floor, with a blanket under you and watching The Little Mermaid on DVD. You had to save costs wherever you could, and those costs did not include cable. After watching Ariel go into Prince Eric’s palace-house within the first couple of hours being a human, you felt it appropriate to give Megumi the kidnapping talk. He takes a bite of the apple you had cut for him earlier. 

“And what if the stranger said, ‘I’ll give you Pokemon cards if you get in the car’?” You ask him. “I don’t even like Pokemon anymore!” He says proudly, in response to the hypothetical stranger. “What? Since when?” You asked, slightly horrified that you weren’t as attuned to your 4-year old’s interests as you thought. “Since the stranger asked me, momma.” He replied simply. 

This exchange must be very odd for Megumi. You had done your best to raise him right. The best that you could with the resources you had. You tried to teach him hard rules. Don’t talk to strangers, wash your hands before you eat, for the love of god please do not stick forks in the outlets. Now the ‘no strangers’ one was out of the window. It would be tough to explain this. Another lecture to redo.

Toji’s got his eyes on the rearview mirror, looking back at the diner. “Jinichi called the cops on me, the fucking asshole,” He mummers that last part to himself. “So where am I taking you?” Blunt and to the point like always. You give him your address before you could even think about it. Megumi’s tugging on you again to indicate he heard that comment, but you’re slightly out of it. 

There’s a big tear that exposes the cushion of the seat you’re on. You had left that there a lifetime ago when you drunkenly stole Toji’s knife and acted out a confrontation between you and a random girl that was hitting on him. That was one of the many nights that ended in laughter instead of tears.

 It smells exactly the same, he still uses the black ice scent for the little tree hanging from his rearview mirror. He’s still got his CD collection strapped to the sun visor on the driver’s side of the truck. It’s grown since the last time you saw it, expanding to the passenger side sun visor as well. There’s still a mysterious dark stain that you don’t feel comfortable speculating on the nature of in the floorboard. Evidently, he never managed to get it out. 

It’s too much. You have to fight to hold back tears. You had told yourself to never give an ounce to this man again. No tears, no anger, nothing. You had broken that in the diner earlier. It would not happen again.

You should have told him to take you to your mom’s house, so he wouldn’t have any kind of access to you or Megumi. Why would you give him your own address? How fucking stupid. 

It’s silent in the truck. You weren’t going to say anything, you might burst into tears if you opened your mouth. You had sat Megumi on your right side, away from Toji. He was pressed in between you in the door so that you wouldn’t have to be any closer to the man than necessary.

 You still don’t know if Toji had gotten a look at him yet. You take a moment to study the man. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, sitting pin-straight in his seat. His eyes are very pointedly on the road, as if he’s trying not to look over. If the whites on his knuckles were indicative, and after spending years with him, you knew they were, Toji had already figured it out. 

After that call four years ago, you had a lot of time to ponder Toji’s reaction to you telling him about Megumi. Logically, you knew he was doing what he always did. Avoiding it because he didn’t wanna deal with the prospect of it. The same way he cheated on you to try and get you to run like you should have. The same way he used to pick a fight just to see if that would be your final straw. He denied Megumi because he had some weird psychological avoidance issue. 

Emotionally, you couldn’t see it as anything other than him being selfish while you gave your life to your child. Literally, that’s what it was. 

You were too busy looking at him to notice you had pulled into your apartment complex. 

“Um..” He clears his throat. “Which building do I drop you off at?” Drop you off. You scoff out loud. Of course. He finds out the kid really is his, and he’s avoiding us again. 

“The second one.” You say. You don’t know what you expected. For him to immediately pull Gumi into a hug and move in with you within the hour? Yeah fucking right. 

“Mama, can I play with the Christmas tree when we get home?” Megumi had asked you as your apartment came into view. ‘Christmas tree’ was one of his favorite games to play, where he got all the pots and pans from the cabinets and stacked them on top of each other to make a “Christmas tree.” It was a very messy game that required you to rewash all of your dishes when you were done, so it was a rule that he had to ask for permission before playing. The game had started when last year, tips were slow and you were late on your electric bill. You had already asked your mom for help that month, and refused to do it again. This, of course, meant that there was no money for a christmas tree. After Megumi’s December birthday and the one christmas present you could afford, you had to find some way to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t have a tree like the one at grandma’s house. “We have a better one.” You had told him, “One that you can play with all year long.” 

Needless to say you had cried yourself to sleep that night. 

“We’ll see, Megumi.” You say. The truck comes to a stop in front of your building, and without a word you’re grabbing Megumi out of the truck and slamming the door shut. Not a word said to Toji, not even a glance directed his way. 

It had started sprinkling rain on your drive over. This morning, your mom had called you to let you know there was a flood warning for the next city over. You usually didn’t take those entirely too seriously, waving her off when she had asked you to bring Megumi and spend the night at her house. 

The apartment is two stories tall with stairs on the outside, so you hold Megumi’s hand in yours as you slowly traverse up the stairs. He was skilled enough to walk up them on his own, but after an incident where he took a small fall down them, you were slightly paranoid. 

By the time you’re unlocking your apartment door, you notice that you hadn’t yet heard Toji’s truck pull away, so you glance back to see him still sitting there, waiting for you to get inside. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes. You can feel your heart drop as you usher Gumi in the house and close the door behind you. Don’t give him an ounce. 

You hope and pray that that is the last time you will ever have to think about Toji Fushiguro. The last time until Megumi gets old enough to realize his last name is different from yours. The last time until he asks you why all his friends in school have two parents and he only has one. The last time until he gets old enough to ask why you and his dad never made it work. Until you have to hold him as he cries and wonders why Toji never wanted him.

You let Megumi play Christmas Tree so you can lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment to compose yourself. 

By the time you get Megumi bathed, fed, and ready for bed, it’s eight at night, and the rain outside has been pouring heavily for a couple hours. Gojo had texted you to let you know that the tips had been good that day, but you had a feeling he was lying so he could slip a bit of his parent’s money into what he “owed you.” The diner was never busy on the Monday lunch shift. 

You had made spaghetti that night, a common occurrence in your home and something you were grateful Megumi hadn’t gotten tired of yet. Occasionally, you would get the kitchen guys to sneak you a meal in a togo box to offset grocery costs and eat something different every once in a while. Nanami was one of the cooler managers, which was why you were more comfortable asking that Megumi sit in the diner while you worked that day, but he was not one to let free food slide. 

The night was surprisingly peaceful once Megumi was distracted by his toys and tonight’s DVD movie, Toy Story, which Shoko had gotten him for his birthday. You were distracted by cleaning every single pot and pan you had after Megumi was done playing with them.

Once the two of you sat down for dinner, the inevitable questions came, and Megumi had asked you about the encounter with Toji earlier that night. 

“Mommy, why did those two guys at your job,” he took a breath in between his sentences and spaghetti, “start hitting each other, and then why did you got in one of their cars?”

That was a long conversation about how some brothers (you had let that slip), don’t get along, and how you had already known Toji, though you didn’t say from where or why. Thankfully, Megumi was more curious about why brothers and sisters fight than why his mother got into this random man’s truck. You would definitely have to revisit the “stranger danger” talk. 

It’s about 11 at night when you hear a booming knock at your door. It had pulled you out of your “almost-asleep” daze on the couch. You had already put Megumi to bed by then, and were taking a couple hours to yourself before you went to bed too. You prayed the sound hadn’t woken him. 

Whoever it is knocks again, this time harder and faster. Now that you have more mental capacity to process that, someone uninvited is knocking at your door at an inappropriate time of night for a single mother, you dash across your living room to grab the baseball bat you keep by the door. You’ve never had to defend yourself and your son in this capacity, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in, and you squeeze the wooden slugger to center yourself.

The only light in the room is coming from the TV, playing the play menu of Clueless on repeat. You must have been asleep longer than you thought. Hoping not to be seen through your shadow by the window, you slowly crane your neck up toward the peep-hole of your apartment door. What you see is the last thing you expected.

Of course it’s Toji. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you alone. You’re such a fucking idiot. 

For a second you contemplate on whether or not you should open the door, but when he bangs again, somehow even louder, you fear that he won’t only wake up Megumi, but the entire apartment complex.

You put the bat back down and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly so that he would only be able to see half of your body from the angle he’s positioned at. He has his hand leaning on the doorframe, and his figure is hunched over to the point he has to lift his head to look you in the eyes. When he does, you realize what this is. He’s drunk.

His eyes are bloodshot red and watery. He’s soaked from head to toe, he had clearly walked through the rain from wherever he was coming from, or stood out in it for so long that he was drenched. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand that wasn’t against the doorframe, hanging precariously from his grasp like he would drop it at any moment. You couldn’t see how much was in it from here, but you knew he had to have drank quite a bit for him to be in this state. 

It’s only when he looks you up and down that you realize you’re only in an old t-shirt and underwear. If this were anyone else, you would’ve squirmed under their gaze, maybe ran to go throw something on, but with Toji, as dumb as it sounded, you couldn’t care less. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

He says nothing, just looks you up and down again and takes a shot from the bottle. 

“Did you drive here?” He nods. Well that’s not fucking good. 

You wait for him to say something, to explain why he felt entitled to knocking on your door in the middle of the night soaking wet with nothing to say. Or maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he left you in the first place without saying a word. Maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he never even felt the need to come check if Megumi was his. You’re waiting for a lot of explanations. But you don’t get a single one.

In a voice that can only best be described as broken, he softly slurs out, “You… you named him Megumi?”

very... very sorry for the wait. that semester ended up kicking my ass. no excuses i am very sorry D;

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[wintersera]

kayeeee :]

could we please get some milf!karina crumbs.. i just need her to absolutely destroy babysitter!reader whether it’s with her g!p or her strap tbh!also maybe a breeding kink too if comfy with that?

-your pookie sugar but from a different universe (different blog,i’m just being extra)

milf!karina x babysitter!f reader

notes: HNNG MILF KARINA AND BABYSITTER READER WITH A FUCKING BREEDING KINK? oh sugar you’re so full of thoughts. i added mommy kink reader because of that liz one you wrote. enjoy 🫶

cw: sugar mommy milf karina, mommy kink, breeding kink, dom karina, sub reader, use of toys (strap), strap being called ‘cock’, praise, oral (giving).

word count: 2.2k

the day you received a request to babysit someone's child was the day god blessed you fr.

you didn’t believe what you were seeing. as soon as you walked into her house you first noticed the expensive and modern interior design. you were shocked beyond belief, but what got you even more shocked was no one else but the owner. clad in sleek black clothing, rich and mature aura seeping out from her presence alone. she had your heart skipping, not one, but multiple heart beats. with a child hiding behind her leg she introduced herself with poise

“the names yu jimin, but you can call me karina, love. i assume your name is y/n? is that right my dear”

“y-yes, l/n y/n. i’m here to babysit your child… if this is the right address- i mean, your house is so expensive an-“ horribly fumbling over your words she cuts you off with her rich silky chuckle.

“i can assure you that you’re at the right location, dear. now, i’ve got some business to attend to. so please allow me to explain the rules of my house before i leave you and my child alone” and she does so. delicately telling you what and what not you can do in her household. you train your eyes on the curves of her body and her gorgeously sculpted features gracefully adorning her face, unable to look away you grow flushed. she looked exactly like what you thought an angel looked like and by god, you know this woman was going to be the death of you “…and that's all, now run along, my meeting is in 15 minutes” watching her attentively as she walks to her big front door and enters her freshly bought lamborghini.

making yourself comfortable in the house, you do the basic babysitting things. looking after and playing with the kid whenever she got bored, cooking meals for her and all that jazz. finally, after all the hard work, you plop yourself down on the big leather chair located in their living room. feeling at peace now that the kid is finally asleep after hours of insisting that she should go to bed, you find yourself growing sleepier. needless to say you passed out right there.

morning came and you’re awoken by the birds chirping and the rays of sunlight hitting your face. where exactly am i? you question. you’re in a king size bed in one of the guest rooms. is what you assumed. who exactly carried you here, you wonder. as if the timing couldn’t be any better, mommy- i mean karina, gently knocked on the bedroom door.

“y/n? are you awake dear? breakfast is ready would you like to accompany us at the dining table?” her morning voice sounding ever so lovely, as if the angels from heaven were strumming their harps in this room.

“i’ll be ready in just a minute, please wait for me” frantically slipping out of the bed realising that your day attire was replaced with a silky set of pyjamas. DID SHE PUT THIS ON ME? does that mean she… oh god did she strip me down? you’re insufferable, the notion setting you off feeling the return of your arousal eat at your stomach.

walking down the long hallway to the dining room was quite a trip, getting lost a couple of times because her house was unbelievably massive. thankfully a few maids were there to guide you, albeit being a little hesitant to ask them at first.

spread out in front of you was a plethora of different varieties of breakfast foods. ranging from pancakes to french toast to literally everything you could think of. “um… i don’t think i’ll be able to eat all of this”

“don’t be silly, y/n. eat what you can. my chefs are highly trained professionals i can guarantee that everything will be to your liking” saying this all while she’s motioning for you to sit right next to her.

“you know, it’s quite difficult not having a husband whilst you have a feisty little kid growing up. i’ve thought about this while you were asleep but would it be possible to have you as my personal babysitter? my little girl already loves you as her nanny” turning to you with a warm smile placed upon her face. “oh, and i assure you the price will be generous”

“well of course. i’ll gladly take up the opportunity if you’re offering” smiling back at her. little did you know, but she found you ever so charming.

a few weeks into your job and you’re already doing very well, accompanying karina and her kid whilst they go shopping. seeing brand names you’ve never even heard of being presented to you and being treated like you too were a millionaire. it was all bizarre to you, it was like she was treating you as if you were her sugar baby.

a couple more weeks of working and you’ve grown closer to her. sitting next to her while she was doing her work, or even laying next to her while you both watch movies and shows on her massive couch. talking to her on the nights she was available and texting her during her work hours. it felt as if you two were together, romantically.

there were times when she’d leave light touches on your body, brushing it over in a joking way, or simply saying that she likes you very much that she’s comfortable with you.

over the next month things started to change more. you’d often spend most of your time at her house so you grew comfortable with her presence, but it seemed a little more different than before. dressing more lightly and touching you more than ever drove you mad. seeing her in less clothing as everyday goes past while she makes subtle innuendos as she’s leaning into your ear. but thank the lord the kid was somewhere lurking around, if it wasn’t for the kid you would’ve pounced on karina right there.

fortunately for you the schools had reopened, sending the kid off with karina.

but you couldn’t pull yourself to do it, having some ounce of shame in you, you couldn’t do that to lovely miss yu jimin. however, as soon as you two had entered the house, karina pushes you into the wall, breathing heavily, she kisses your lips with hunger, hiking up the shirt she lent you for today. shocked by the urgency in her actions you immediately pull her away “wait- hold on a minute what are you doing” panting heavily from the sudden kiss.

“my apologies, i thought you felt the same way as i” pulling herself off of you, looking at the ground in shame.

grabbing her wrist you assure her, “no, keep going. i was just startled, that's all” with that she continued, kissing you with passion and hunger. carrying on from where she was, she slithered her hand up your already hiked up shirt, fondling your breasts as she slips her tongue in your mouth, receiving a low groan from you. turned on by this you tug the back of her blazer, wanting more from her. reading your actions, she pushes a knee in between your thighs, pressing your core gently as she continues to play with your breasts, this time pulling the bra down. eyeing your tits as they fall out in the most perfect way to her. with your now exposed breasts, she begins to play at your nipples, rolling them around gently in her fingertips. cooing at how you’re so pretty for her.

“c-can i ask you something?” struggling to use your words you manage to spill out a request through your whimpering.

“you may”

“can i call you m-mommy?” blood rushing to your face as you say that.

upon hearing that, something in karina had snapped. dragging you to her bedroom, she smirks at you as she undresses herself. “you want to call me mommy? well, anything for mommy's little baby” teasing you with your own words you feel even more turned on. sitting at the edge of her bed she beckons you to come kneel between her thighs, “come” you oblige. “make mommy feel good and i’ll give you a reward for being such a good girl” intoxicated with the smell of her arousal, you pull her lacy black lingerie aside, flicking her clit as she squirms around you. feeling your tongue working hard on her clit, she grabs your hair in her hand, wanting to feel your tongue even closer on her she pushes you closer to her hips, rocking them to the rhythm of your licking. legs threatening to close, you keep them apart with a gentle grip on her thigh.

“fuck.. you’re such a good girl “ moaning out, looking down at you with hooded eyes, “keep g-going, mommys close” working hard, you start lapping up violently, teasing two fingers at her dripping hole. as you let your digits slide slowly in her, a guttural moan escaping her lips, feeling that her walls are clenching around you already you knew she was on the edge of her climax. to send her over the edge you suck hard on her clit, as you work in and out of her hole, hitting her in all the right ways. “a-ah.. oh god, baby you’re doing so good” praise as your motivation you work harder than you ever did before, quickening up your pace as you fail to keep her legs open, therefore her thighs squeezing around your head. it’s not like you dislike it anyways, you loved it.

throwing her head back, she lets out a long pornographic moan, gripping your hair as her thighs suffocate you.

euphoria washing over her body. she helps you stand up, heavily panting as she wipes her juices off of your chin and face, eagerly placing a finger in your mouth to lick it straight off. “you’ve made mommy feel so so good baby, now for your reward. sit on the bed for a moment, let me get something for my dearest.”

you lay on your back, waiting for her to call you. rattling coming from her drawer, you could only guess that it’s a toy. excited for what's in store for you, you sit up, watching as she puts on a large, beautifully crafted, black strap. gulping as she approaches you, placing herself in between your thighs this time.

“mommy, are you sure this can fit in me?”

“don’t worry my baby, i’m certain it will” supporting herself on your thighs with her two hands, she pushes the strap slowly and deeply into you, tip kissing your cervix.

crying out, tears streaming down your face from the immense amount of pleasure and pain, “fuck- mommy… your cock is filling me up, breed me p-please” cooing at you she kisses your lips softly.

“you’re taking me good, fuck, y/n carry my children for me. you’ll be the perfect mother for my kids” jerking her hips suddenly, making you scream her name out loud. you didn’t really care if the maids heard you. with care, she pounds hard into your pussy, creating lewd wet noises from how wet you are. “god, y/n baby you’re so wet for mommy, don’t i make you feel so good?” now gripping onto your hips, holding them steady so she can fuck herself harder into your needy womb. wanting you to bear her children she fucks you with fervour, her eyebrows furrowing as she concentrates on her rhythm.

with every thrust she gives you, you notice how her tits bounce up and down. wanting to suck on them badly, you cough out another request “mm- ah fuck.. mommy can i suck on your tits?” nodding in response she picks you up from the back, laying herself flat on the bed and you sitting up riding her cock.

“suck then”

leaning down to her chest you lick around her nipples, flicking and pulling them, moaning as you basically make out with her nipples. continuing to rail into you, she grabs your ass with both of her hands, lifts you up just to slam you right back into her cock. “f-fuck.. mommy, cum- cum in me please. i want you to fill me up” although a bit sad that she can't shoot her load into you ripe womb, she keeps up with the roleplay, saying that

“i’ll fuck your pussy until you’re leaking with my cum”

feeling how tight you are being more of a struggle to manoeuvre her strap inside you, she thrusts harder, knowing that you’re on the verge of cumming. “mommy please, f-faster, don’t stop- gonna cum, so good” strings of praises and ‘don’t stops’ spilling out off your mouth as you continue to rock your hips on her, leaning back down to once again suck her tits.

you’re inevitable high hits you like a truck. cumming hard on her dick, you scream profanities as you clutch onto her shoulders, gritting your teeth as you still unconsciously buck your hips.

coming back to reality, you panic “karina, what time is the kid coming back?” giggling, she looks at you with adoration in her eyes.

“not anytime soon, my dear. we have more time” she playfully smirks at you.

safe to say you guys pretty much fucked until you had to pick up the kid.

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[tanoraqui]

you’ve heard of Her Divine Highness Gideon the First, First Daughter of the House of God, and all the compelling, often Fake Dating-laced AUs that might follow. But have you considered...Gideon Jr. Dve, favored daughter of the First, heir of Gideon the First, Saint of Duty?

the timeline diverges at 2 points:

Gideon (ours) inherits her mother’s perfectly normal dark brown eyes

Gideon (lyctor) follows the escape pod to Ninth House, arrives to find Wake’s corpse and living baby, to the bemusement of all the locals is like, “yes, that’s mine” and takes said baby back to the Mithraeum to confess his sins and beg forgiveness

the conversation that follows goes like this:

Gideon 1: I am so sorry, John, I don’t know what came over me, Wake was just...really hot. She’s dead now. But, um, this is our daughter, and I feel duty-bound to raise her, or at least see that she’s raised well - but it’s your call, of course (again, I’m sorry for sleeping with the enemy for over a decade)

JohnGod, vibrating at a frequency known only to necromantic immortals who maybe swallowed a sun or something: N I E C E ? !

Augustine, Mercy, and maybe Cytherea, exchanging frantic eye contact behind the other two’s heads: Is that the baby? / I don’t know! I thought you were keeping track of it! / I don’t know! Can’t you tell!? / Are they keeping it? / What the fuck are we going to do about this?!

So, Gideon (Jr.) grows up in the Mithraeum, which needless to say is a fucking weird place to grow up. 

this au is dependent on the assumption that none of these millennia-old necromancers can identify the thanergic/thalergic weirdness of the biological daughter of God on slight, so, just accept that. Maybe children of lyctors (I refuse to believe there haven’t been any before) are a little Like That anyway? The Conspirators do learn the truth pretty fast, DNA test or something, but they quickly decide that stealing the baby and running for the Ninth is a terrible plan, and G1deon and God have to let her out from underfoot eventually. They’ll wait.

the Ninth had already named her Gideon. Gideon 1 tries to change this, but alas, his terrible immortal friends all think it’s hilarious and call her Gideon Jr, or “Junior” or “Giddy” for short.

Cytherea is undoubtably the Cool Aunt, and also Giddy’s first crush

(neither Mercy nor Augustine want to touch children on account of potential stickiness, ruling them firmly out)

JohnGod makes so many Godfather jokes in a terrible Italian mobster accent, which Giddy then imitates with equal inability to mimic an accent, which either produces something completely unrecognizable as old-Earth Italian mobster OR somehow loops back around to being a perfect impression of Don Corleone

Pyrrha tries to resist the urge to check in, but fails, particularly around bedtime (usually a private father/daughter tucking-in ritual). Giddy, with the uncomfortable insight for a toddler, quickly grasps that Sunglasses Dad is a different persona than Normal Dad. Sunglasses Dad swears her to utmost secrecy about this, and she keeps the oath...almost entirely

she does let it slip to Normal Dad, who...

listen, G1deon has been concealing his mysterious lapses in awareness from God and his fellow lyctors for centuries; he’s not going to stop now. And he MUST have had suspicions about what caused them; he’s not an idiot. But he would, I think, be a responsible father. 

So when 7yo Gideon Jr. lets slip about her interactions with Sunglasses Dad - which she definitely doesn’t realize is a whole different person; she probably thinks it’s a weird character her dad acts as sometimes, like how Uncle God will play pretend as a mobster, pirate, horse, etc. When Gideon Jr. lets slip, Gideon Sr. sits her down with his daughter, gets her to tell him about Sunglasses Dad, and admits that, uh, yeah, sure, it’s a fun game they play together, and still very secret from everyone else...and if ‘Sunglasses Dad’ ever makes her feel scared, or god forbid hurts her, she should run away and find Uncle God and tell him everything immediately. 

(Because he has suspicions, he must have suspicions, especially at this point...but just in case he’s wrong, he’ll confess to this centuries-old secret rather than let any harm befall his daughter. It’s the only right thing to do.)

Some Actual Plot Maybe, IDK?:

when Gideon Jr. is 13, her father finally agrees to enroll her in the Cohort Academy for Gifted Officers-To-Be, or whatever its called. Gideon Sr. has a quiet word with the current head of Second House and Gideon Jr. enrolls incognito, and rolls up to this place with

- sword skills trained since birth with fucking lyctors

- an uncanny ability to survive should-be-deadly wounds

- the social skills of someone who has never spoken with anyone under the age of several millennia

- probably slightly more respect for, like, the concept of authority/order/duty/not being a smartass 24/7 than the canon Gideon we know and love...BUT she has also literally never suffered a consequence in her life, and...you know how Miles Vorkosigan’s insubordination habits are based partly in that for the first 18 years of his life, his commanding officers, essentially, were 2 of the most competent people on Barrayar? God Himself used to give Gideon horsey rides. Gideon might try, politely, to be impressed by the commander-instructor glaring at her personally, but she is...not.

- gay

[insert a full YA novel’s worth of coming-of-age shenanigans here, absolutely ft. Judith Deuteros and Marta Dyas as soon-friends]

AND THEN ONE DAY, JOD SENDS OUT AN INVITATION to the heir of the Nine Houses inviting them to the First...

now, Gideon does not have a single drop of necromantic ability. She never has. So she wants to be a cavalier so bad...

but even Gideon, sword bimbo that she is, couldn’t grow up with The lyctors and not notice that... Well, no one really talks about their cavaliers, except when Mercy and Augustine fight about them. There is a grieving, sucking wound where every lyctoral cavalier should be.

she still tried so hard to be one. Judith very nearly agreed to have her even over <3Marta<3 (whom they were both madly crushing on). Then Gideon had one of her rare meetings with her father (he’d swing by the Cohort Academy sometimes and they’d get lunch), and told him about it all excitedly, and he flatly forbade it. And then he went over her head and flatly forbade it to the Cohort. 

so there’s something Weird going on there, or at least there’s something being unfairly forbidden to Gideon like birds are forbidden to the indoor cat staring out the window, eagerly lashing its tail. 

so she hatches a Plan:

- 1. Stow away on Judith & Marta’s ship to Dominicus - 2. ??? - 3. Profit!

when she sees Cytherea there, she thinks, Oh shit, I’m busted.

fortunately, she’d waited until everyone else had disembarked and gone inside before she snuck off the ship, so Cytherea doesn’t see her. So now it’s up to Gideon to sneak around, make friends with the heirs of the Houses, and recruit them into helping her not get caught by her aunt! Who she assumes is here specifically to catch her out...or maybe to covertly oversee the trials...? Hey what is up with this place anyway?

(It’s fortunate because as soon as Cytherea sees Gideon, she’s going to change her plan to “kill everyone immediately, except Giddy, whom I take to the Ninth and exsanguinate to open that damn tomb.”)

(Unfortunately, once like 5 people have died, Gideon is likely to honorably reveal herself in order to ask Cytherea for help, because CLEARLY something has gone terribly wrong. This can’t really be part of the trials, right? Uncle God wouldn’t do that.)

[patolemus]

Here’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a few weeks.

Summary: Stiles is a demon. This is common knowledge. At least, he was under the impression that this is common knowledge. He should have known better than to trust Derek Hale to figure it out.

————————————

Look, in his defense, Stiles was sure they knew. At least, he was sure Derek knew, and if Derek knew, then the rest of the pack knew. That’s just kind of how it works, when they aren’t hiding threats from each other.

(He’s not pointing fingers. It’s just that Stiles sometimes gets fucking tired when the pack does not tell him shit and then he ends up having to figure it all out by himself so they don’t get themselves killed. It wasn’t funny the first time Scott tried it back in sophomore year. It hasn’t gotten any funnier since.)

(Alright, so he is pointing fingers. Sue him.)

Stiles is a demon. And okay, before anyone gets mad and starts saying shit like ‘no he’s not, he’s just a bit chaotic’, he… well, Stiles will admit to being chaotic as a general rule, but that is more of a character choice. He’s being for real when he says he’s a demon.

His parents couldn’t have children. It’s just how it goes sometimes. But Claudia was a very powerful witch, and she knew a thing or two about making pacts with demons. So when the doctors told her she could not carry any children, she figured the next step was obviously to summon a creature from down below and make a deal with it in exchange for a child.

That’s where Stiles comes in.

Claudia probably wasn’t expecting a demon child to come to her when she did her summoning, but personally? Stiles thinks she lucked out. Stiles is a friendly demon, as far as those go, and his policy regarding humans is more ‘see what makes them tick’ rather than ‘make them burst into flames spontaneously’, so all in all, she could have done a lot worse.

So that’s kind of how he ends up as Stiles Stilinski, son of John and Claudia Stilinski. Claudia and John are the only ones that know Stiles’ true name, though only Claudia can say it right. John tries his best, but they all collectively decide that Mischief is a rather good alternative.

In exchange for being the best son anyone could have, Stiles gets to spend an unspecified amount time on the mortal realm. Claudia doesn’t put any restrictions on him, on the understanding that Stiles can’t go and kill people for kicks. Annoying them is fair game, though.

That’s fine. Stiles has never been particularly interested in needless violence. He’d much rather learn everything there is to know about humans. Such interesting creatures. Truly fascinating.

And that’s how he spends the next twelve years of his life. He makes one singular friend - humans tend to get this instinctual need to get away from demons, but Scott doesn’t have any survival instincts at all, so it works out fine - and spends most of his time enjoying the admittedly mundane life of a human child.

Stiles knows there’s a pack of werewolves living in town, but he never runs into them, and then they die in that terribly suspicious fire and the survivors leave. The town quiets down a lot after that, and Stiles tries not to mourn the loss too badly. The energy they gave off was very pleasant.

Then the werewolves come back to town.

Stiles doesn’t intent to get involved. He doesn’t. He’s a demon, he doesn’t care for mortal affairs no matter how amusing they are. So he doesn’t do anything when he feels the presence of an Alpha in Beacon Hills after seven years. A not his circus not his monkeys kinda situation. But then Scott gets turned into a werewolf, and Stiles doesn’t care for mortal affairs but he does care about Scott, so really, it was inevitable.

There’s also Derek Hale. Derek Hale with his lickable abs and his chiseled scowly face and that angryhurtsadmiserable aura of his. Stiles acuses him of murder, Derek shoves him into walls. How is Stiles supposed to not become completely obsessed?

Anyways.

Stiles isn’t sure how he ended up in a pack of werewolves of all things - demons are lonely creatures, they don’t get packs - but he can probably blame Scott for that. It’s pretty alright, even if he gets dragged into every possible supernatural matchup imaginable. At least no one is busting out the holy water. Not that it would work, that’s a myth. Stiles had that phase as a kid where he went to church every Sunday morning and received the sacrament of Eucharist just for kicks. His dad didn’t find it funny, but Stiles still thinks it’s fucking hilarious. Now he uses the name of Jesus Christ every time he can. It’s blasphemous and Stiles thinks it’s hilarious too.

Back to the point, Stiles never bothered to hide he’s a demon. He doesn’t advertise it, of course, but he doesn’t go out of his way to mask his scent or whatever. He’s powerful enough that he can take on mostly anything that comes find him. So he thought Derek knew, and was just being chill about it and not mentioning it.

Apparently not.

The bitten wolves, he could understand. They still mix up deer and rabbit after years of being bitten when they’re running in the preserve. But Derek’s a born wolf. He was trained since he was a kid, and it’s not like demons are hard to sniff out. Hell clings to Stiles like a second skin.

Well, it turns out Derek is the ultimate failwolf, because after four years, he still had no idea. It takes a run in with another demon - this one does like to set humans on fire, unfortunately, so Stiles has to banish it back to Hell - and even then Stiles has to practically spell it out for him. Stiles is only a bit disappointed in him. Mostly, he’s still a bit confused on how Derek even missed it in the first place.

“Dude, can’t you smell it?” he asks, and they’re alone in the loft because everyone else has gone out to buy celebratory donuts while they try to get the scorch marks off Derek’s wall. It’s not going as well as they hoped.

Instead of an answer, or a growl, which is his primary method of communication, Derek does something unexpected and fucking—blushes.

Huh. Okay.

Wait, no. Not okay. What?

“It’s not considered polite to act on the way people smell, Stiles,” and Derek’s voice is strangled, like it hurts him to get the words out. He’s always been bad at talking but Jesus Christ, this is excessive.

(Heh. Jesus Christ. It will never not be funny.)

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve sniffed out other supernatural creatures or people’s intentions. It’s what you do. Other than rip out throats and creep around my window, obviously,” Derek’s scowl makes an appearance - there it is, Stiles was getting worried for a second - looking back at the scorched wall like it’s going to magically clean itself with the power of his rage.

Stiles could probably do something like that. Maybe. His magic is chaotic on a good day, so he can’t really call it reliable. Destructive, definitely. Offensive, if he has to pick between that and defense. Stiles is terrible at that.

He’s really getting off track here.

“That’s different. You’re not a supernatural creature,” Derek says stubbornly and what?

“What?”

“What,” it’s impressive how he always manages to ask questions that don’t sound like questions.

“What do you mean, I’m not a supernatural creature? Are you—“ Stiles looks at his Alpha with narrowed eyes, mouth open mid sentence as it finally downs on him that they’re talking about very different things. “What did you think I meant when I asked you if you smelt it?”

Derek stubbornly refuses to say anything. That’s fine. Stiles is the king of stubborn, he can out-stubborn anyone at any given time.

“Tell me,” he presses. Derek doesn’t say anything. “Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell—“

“Jesus fuck, Stiles, fine!” heh. Stiles knew he’d break. “I was smelling that you’re horny. All the time.”

That— that’s not what Stiles was expecting. Um. Okay. So things got awkward very fucking quickly.

“Oh,” he says, and now he sounds strangled because he thought he’d kept that little tidbit of information hidden quite nicely. It turns out Derek was just being polite about it.

God, does it mean the betas can smell it too? Oh, no, no no no no.

(Heh. God. Stiles is so funny.)

(He really has to stop unfocusing like this.)

Stiles is officially mortified. Turns out even demons get prudish after spending so much time in the mortal realm. Who knew? It’s okay, Stiles will just find the nearest bridge to throw himself off from. If he has any luck he’ll die instantly and won’t get back to Hell so he doesn’t have to live with this knowledge forever.

“It’s okay. I know it’s not personal or anything,” Derek’s still not looking at him. He’s grabbed back his rag and is valiantly rubbing away at the wall. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to tell him that if the mark hasn’t come out already, it probably never will. He’d know, he’s burned plenty of walls before.

By accident, if his dad ever asks.

“That’s fine and all, only it’s very personal,” and Stiles is just making a bigger hole to bury himself in, but his mouth is faster than his brain. It’s an ongoing issue. “You don’t think I’m horny all the fucking time, right? I mean, demons do have that hyper hormonal stage at my age but assuming it’s all the time is a bit excessive. I’m not a succubus. This is completely a you thing.”

Derek’s face does that thing where it pinches in between his eyebrows and his eyes narrow a bit, lips pressed together tightly. It’s his Stiles Just Said Something Deeply Upsetting face. He uses it a lot.

Alright, time to backtrack.

“It’s really okay that you don’t feel the same. Really, I get it. I wouldn’t feel the same about me either. So let’s just ignore I ever said anything, and we can go back to trying to clean this up even if we both know it’s not going to come out,” he offers Derek his most winning smile. Derek’s face just gets even more pinched.

Stiles’ senses are pretty dulled here on the mortal realm, but he doesn’t need them to know his Alpha is probably very pissed. At him, specifically.

So it’s Tuesday, then.

Stiles takes a step back, just as a precaution. He doesn’t think Derek will throw him against a wall - he stopped doing that a couple of years ago. Stiles refuses to acknowledge he kinda misses it - but you can never be too cautious. And Stiles did kind of just confess his undying horniness for him.

Imagine if he’d also told the guy he’s utterly and helplessly in love with him. That would have gone fantastically. Not.

“You’re a demon?” Derek’s voice comes out more high pitch than Stiles has ever heard it. He’s surprised. Why is he surprised? This is what they were talking about, before Stiles stuck a foot in his mouth. “Since when?”

“Since always? Seriously dude, can’t you smell it?”

It’s like they’re back in square one.

So. Turns out Derek truly had no idea Stiles is a demon. No wonder he’d looked like Stiles had grown a second head when he banished that fiend back to Hell.

On the good side, Derek apparently also returns his feelings, after they go in circles a few more times and Stiles gets across that he’s not just horny, he’s in love. A happy ending, in Stiles’ opinion.

(“How did you end up as the son of the Sheriff anyway? Is he a demon, too?”

“Hmn? Oh, no. My mom just did this summoning ritual for a Prince of Hell to get them a child, and I showed up. It was kind of a two for one deal,” he waves his hand dismissively.

“You’re a what?”

Oh, boy. Stiles knew he was forgetting something.)

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Jake Seresin And The Unfortunate Hat Situation

jake seresin x fem!reader 3k words

summary: You’re visiting Jake’s family in Texas for the first time and so far, it’s been going well. Just that Jake may have forgotten to mention the hat rule. 

another cowboy fic because i fucking can

disclaimer: strong allusions to smut. im not kidding. this is basically straight up dirty talk all the way through

a/n: i’m warning you once about all the inaccuracies in here and thats it. read at your own risk. i have literally no clue whatsoever about texas and/or cowboys and did not have it in me to research cowboy history for hours on end, like- i tried, okay? i really did try. i know facts about cowboy hats now that i never felt the need to know (though “dont sleep with your cowboy hat on”, um... yeah? thanks? i totally would have done that otherwise) but i still do not have the information to back this shit up lmao

top gun masterlist

(yes i did have to use an everybody wants some gif. during the past week ive rewatched this film more times than i can count and i will take every opportunity i get to talk about it)

“Enlighten me”, you chuckled, spreading your arms, a bottle of beer in your right hand. “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats? Isn’t that kind of their thing?”

You were visiting Texas for the first time - a week off of work, away from the Navy and the Dagger Squad for a bit, to meet Jake’s friends and family back home. You’d talked to most every one of them over the phone whenever he had found the time to call, but you’d never actually met them in person before this. So it had been an adventure from the start: getting on a plane in San Diego to take you to Texas where Jake had grown up, being picked up at the airport by his mother, driving two hours to the farm they owned (”You grew up on a farm?”, you’d asked when he’d told you, wheezing at the mental image of teenage Jake herding sheep), meeting his dad, being surprised by both his sisters, getting to see his childhood bedroom. 

And then, to top it off: the sound of his alarm at the crack of dawn this morning to go teach you how to ride a horse. 

Needless to say that you’d been buzzing with nervous energy for the past few days. Not that you weren’t happy - it was just all a bit much at once. 

After lunch he’d taken you into the city and you’d gone shopping for some real cowboy boots. He’d planned to take you to a bar in the evening, to introduce you to some friends. After all you only had a week here and neither of you felt like missing out on something. 

When you’d wanted to try cowboy hats in the store too, Jake had snatched them from you and grabbed your hands, pulling you close to him, telling you that you’d get one when you’d become a real cowgirl. Since you doubted that would ever happen, you’d pouted and tried to convince him with kisses and, when that hadn’t worked, half-hearted threats, but he wouldn’t be persuaded even the slightest. He’d only looked down at you with raised eyebrows until you’d caved and satisfied yourself with cursing under your breath. 

So here you were: Cowboy boots, jeans shorts and a button-up and no cowboy hat in sight. 

Actually, there was one in sight. Jake was wearing his, in all his Texan glory, laughing with some of his friends at the bar. The thing was, he was the only guy wearing his hat. There were some cowboys strutting about with them on their heads, but most of them didn’t have one - hat hair, yes, but no hat. Hence your initial question: “Why are none of the cowboys wearing cowboy hats?” 

“Shit, Jake didn’t tell you?”, Kendra - one of Jake’s only female friends here, who’d immediately decided she liked you and pulled you to one of the tables for some girl talk - let out a laugh. “No wonder it’s still on his head. We were getting worried already.” 

It was pretty clear to everyone that you weren’t from around here, so you saw no reason to hide your confusion.

“Now you’ve lost me entirely. What?”, you asked, masking your frown with a laugh. You’d been here for hardly two days and you didn’t think you’d felt as embarrassed ever before. You knew about literally nothing. At least you’d done somewhat well at horseback riding, which could’ve been because of Jake’s arms around you and his hands over yours as you - he - held the reins, but either way you were proud of yourself for not falling off and landing on your ass. 

“It’s like this: Ladies didn’t wear hats for a really long time. Cowboys wore the hats. So when you saw a lady with a cowboy hat on - that was her man’s. A sign that she belonged to him. Property shit and all.” She waved it off as if dismissing the concept. “Changed over the past few decades, of course. Better that way too. Ladies can wear whatever they want now. But the thought kind of stuck. You see a guy without a hat, he’s probably taken. You see a girl with a hat, that’s probably her man’s. And before you ever steal a hat, you should know the hat rule.” 

You raised your eyebrows. Your stomach did weird little flips as she talked. Jake hadn’t explained any of this to you. 

“The hat rule?”, you asked. Kendra grinned and leaned in, pretending to let out some big secret. 

“You wear the hat”, she said and paused for a second for dramatic effect, “You wear the cowboy.” 

You breathed out. 

“Oh.” 

Oh my ass, you thought. 

Jake hadn’t let you buy your own hat for a reason. And then he’d gone ahead and not given you that reason. What the actual fuck. 

You would’ve loved to wear his hat. You would’ve loved the thought of him claiming you like that, letting you wear his hat, showing everyone that yeah, you were Jake Seresin’s girl. But no. He’d left you completely in the dark, hadn’t let a single word slip. And he was still wearing that goddamn hat himself. 

Like a single fucking guy, not a man in a loving relationship.

Somehow, now that you knew, you were more annoyed by the fact that he was wearing it than that he just hadn’t told you at all. God, he could’ve left it at home. He could’ve taken it off. He could’ve just put it on your head without telling you why if he didn’t want to. 

And right there, that was the part you just didn’t understand. Why hadn’t he told you? He should have known you well enough by now to realise that you would absolutely adore wearing that hat. Not only because you wanted to wear a hat (which you did) but also because you wanted to wear his hat (which you did even more). After all, it wasn’t only him claiming you - it was you claiming him as well. And as horrible as the history of that hat rule was, in this present day you felt like it would only have been fair of him to tell you. You wanted to have that chance of showing him off. Of him showing you off, which he did so happily back in San Diego. 

“Hey”, Kendra said, her expression a bit more serious as she put a hand to your arm and pulled you from your thoughts. “I’m sure Jake didn’t mean to hurt you. He may seem like a bastard, but he’s actually a real sweetheart.” 

You snorted at her, nodding along. 

“He is”, you agreed. “Which is kind of why it hurts even more. I don’t get why he wouldn’t just tell me. It’s not like he’s ever been scared I’d say no to him or something.”

Kendra smiled and squeezed your arm reassuringly. 

“Try not to worry about it too much. Just ask him when you get home later, yeah? Communication is key.” Her smile turned into a grin. She winked at you. “And hey, you can always wear my hat if you’d like.” 

You forced yourself to smile as well as you took a sip of your beer. “If I actually were single, I’d definitely take you up on that offer, but I’m not, and I don’t think Jake would like it much.” 

Her grin only deepened. She had dimples, you realised, and the hat on her head matched her eye colour. You were glad to have her here with you. She was someone you were sure you could become good friends with over time. 

“That makes it even better”, she said conspicuously. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles over the edge of the table as she tipped her hat back. “He never told you about the hats. You don’t know anything in his eyes, honey. Use it against him.” 

There was a twinkle in her gaze that told you she was looking for nothing short of mischief and you had the distinct feeling that she’d been the ‘bad influence’ on Jake in high school that he’d talked about so often. She seemed like a troublemaker. But she also seemed genuine. And she was right - in Jake’s eyes, you were getting to know one of his friends, talking about some girly stuff (which he probably assumed was himself), having a nice night. Not learning about cowboy customs that he’d just so forgotten to mention. 

Jake usually didn’t get jealous. He trusted you the same way you trusted him. But he got possessive nonetheless - always with a hand on your back when you were talking to someone he thought was flirting with you, kissing you at the most inappropriate times, making sure that everyone knew you were his. Now he’d had the goddamn chance and hadn’t taken it. And you didn’t fucking know why. 

But you were damn determined to find out. 

Kendra slid the hat off her head and offered it to you. You took one deep breath before you reached for it. 

You let your fingertips skip over the rim for a moment. Were you really about to do this? Then you put it on your head. 

Alright. If Jake wasn’t going to tell you about the way this worked on his own accord, you’d make him tell you. 

Kendra emptied her beer and you followed suit before the both of you got up. She grabbed both bottles in one hand, turning to you to send you another of those winks. 

“I’ll bring these back to the bar and get us new ones. The dancefloor’s all yours.” 

With a nervous smile, you adjusted your newly aqcuired hat and made your way onto the dancefloor. There was soft music playing in the background - country, of course, loud but not loud enough to disturb conversation. It wasn’t late enough for that just yet. Which was honestly a relief, since you had zero clue whatsoever about line dancing or whatever it was they did down here. This way there were only a few couples twirling each other back and forth and some people moving to the beat all on their own. You let out a breath and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to really feel the music: the guitar, the steady drums, the vocals. 

Slowly, you started swaying - from one side to the other, turning, twirling, one step, then the next, heels here, toes there. A grin was making its way onto your face. The music grew, not as much in volume as in pace, and you didn’t know just when you had started to forget about everything except your movements (like the people watching, for example), but then the song changed and you gasped as you realised you knew it. Eyes fluttering open, hands coming together to clap, lips twisting into an actual laugh as you sang along, catching Kendra’s gaze and waving her over. 

She joined you with a laugh, grabbed your hand to twirl you around, and god, her voice was heavenly. For just a split second you wondered how Jake hadn’t ended up falling for her. You certainly would have. 

And speaking - more like thinking, but whatever - of the devil, you felt an all too familiar hand on your shoulder. You turned at the same time that Kendra let go of you, allowing you to admire your boyfriend in all his furious glory. 

Not that he actually looked furious. Not to anyone but you, not with that facade he wore whenever anyone got under his skin. But you, well... You’d been with him long enough to understand that twitch of his jaw, that tension in his shoulders, that flicker in his eyes. And yet - the cowboy hat still sat on his head. 

“I got it from here, Kendra”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, as you held your breath. She snorted, but still made to move away, muttering something under her breath that you didn’t catch. Then Jake spoke again. “Take your hat, Kendra.” 

He grabbed it from where it rested on your head and threw it at her without looking away from you. She sucked in a breath. 

“If you throw my hat again, I’ll kick your ass, Seresin”, she said and you could tell that even though they were friends, she wasn’t kidding. Shit, the people here were really fucking serious about their hats. Another reason why you were mad at Jake for not telling you about any of it. 

“Next time, don’t set it on my girl’s head”, he growled - growled, really, you didn’t know what else to call it. She scoffed and walked off. 

“How could she know I was your girl?”, you whispered, challenging him even though he already looked like you’d crossed some line that he’d drawn without telling you. “How could anyone?” 

For a few moments, he kept quiet. You defiantly stared up at him. Should he think whatever he fucking wanted to, this was entirely his fault. 

Then something changed in his expression. 

“You found out about the hat rule”, he said, “And the first thing you did was go and put on somebody else’s.” 

“Well if my boyfriend doesn’t want to have me wear his hat-” 

You couldn’t react as quickly as Jake had gripped you by the waist and pulled you close to him, forcing you to tip your head back to keep looking at him. He was, in fact, so close now that you could just kiss him and honestly, you were tempted. Just as tempted as you’d been when he’d come out of the bathroom looking like that, just as tempted as you’d been when you’d left the house, just as tempted as you’d been in his truck. But you were also stubborn. And you had good reasons not to kiss him right now (even though they were getting harder and harder to remember by the second).

“Darling, I’d go wild for you with my hat on.” 

You swallowed. Hard. 

“So why am I not wearing it?”, you asked through gritted teeth. You couldn’t quite believe just how easily this whole situation was getting under your skin. But it seriously hurt your ego - and not just that. The fact that Jake hadn’t told you about something so important in his hometown, some, as ridiculous as it may be, piece of culture, something that would so clearly show everyone that you were dating him, really, actually, seriously dating him, stung more than you wanted to admit. It was like someone had asked him outright if he was taken and he’d said no. 

“‘Cause I told you to wait”, he drawled, “Didn’t I? Wait ‘til you’re a real cowgirl.” 

Curiosity and frustration were mixing in your stomach, a weird, dangerous combo. You grabbed for his collar, pulling on it just a bit too hard - nothing he couldn’t stand his ground against. You were feeling insulted by all this and you found that you should let him know. 

“What’s a girl like me gotta do to become one in your eyes, hm, Hangman?” 

Hangman. You only called him that when you meant business. It was like a mother using her child’s full name whenever it got in serious trouble. Jake stiffened, fingers digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure you’d be able to see the marks in the mirror later on. You’d hit a nerve. Always did when you called him by his callsign. No more Jake, no more baby, none of that. 

“Behave”, he said, eyes fixed on yours, that one word carrying so much more meaning. You didn’t care. For once, you really didn’t fucking care. You wanted him riled up, wanted him furious, wanted him right at this breaking point. So you smiled.  

“Like a dog?” 

He’d smashed his lips on yours before you could react. 

All teeth and tongue, decisive, possessive, angry. You didn’t want to give in as quickly as you did. But he hardly left you a choice - he was everywhere, arms wrapped so tightly around you, chest pressed so firmly against yours, not giving you the option to escape, to duck away, to tease him any further. So instead of doing that, instead of making him run after you more, you let him have the control. All of it. Instead of turning, instead of making him chase you, you pulled him close to you by his collar with all the force you could manage, pulled him into you, pulled him with you as you stumbled backwards from the sudden change of weight, put your entire trust in him to keep you upright. You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t want to if that meant letting go. 

Not with how much emotion you were putting into this fucking kiss. 

Jake was the one to break away first. Pupils blown, cheeks reddened (you were sure you looked even worse), panting. You loosened your grip on his collar and ran a hand through your hair instead. 

Somewhere in the back of your head, you remembered that you were still in a bar, still in the middle of the dancefloor, still under the watchful eyes of his friends. A different part was screaming at you to fuck it and fuck him right here, right now. 

“Shit”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. His hat let a shadow fall over both your faces. “You’re gon’ be the death of me someday.” 

“Hopefully not too soon”, you teased, a smile playing on your lips as he pulled back just a bit. “I still gotta find out how to become a cowgirl after all.” 

The corner of his mouth quirked up as well. He raised his eyebrows, examining you for a second. 

“You really wanna know, sweetheart?” 

You let out a laugh. “Fuck yeah.” 

He leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, and you had to swallow. This felt intimate, somehow. 

“You’re gon’ be a cowgirl once you rode your cowboy.” 

Your breath caught in your throat. He pulled back with a grin. Smug, you realised. He was so fucking proud of himself for this - for having caught you off guard like that. You couldn’t let him win that easily. Not with that already inflated ego. 

“All of this just to get me into your bed?”, you chuckled. “Damn, Seresin. Lotta work for no reason, hm? I’m in it at the end of every day anyway.” 

He shrugged - as best as he could with his hands still on your waist. 

“What can I say? I aim to please.” 

You couldn’t help but grin too. The angry, sizzling tension had dissolved into something much more pleasant, much more dizzying. Something that set your skin ablaze and your mind on fire. You grabbed one of his hands from your waist and intertwined your fingers with his. 

“Want to get out of here?”, you asked. He leaned in and kissed you with a smile - slow and steady and sensual, wholly different from before. 

When he pulled back, you were breathless again. 

“Always.”