#s o b s all over the dash

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ ONE. OCTOBER 1 | FUCK OR DIE

GOT ME CALLING OUT FOR HELP (S-O-S) [3.8k]

in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before you got hit. you should consider yourself lucky — there are worse fates than being fucked like your life depends on it (it’s gotham. of course it does) or: you get hit and jason deals with the fallout

content warnings. f!reader, dubious consent due to intoxication, chemical aphrodisiac, established relationship, dry humping, fingering, penetrative sex, begging, unprotected sex, creampie, prevention of pulling out.

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< kinktober masterlist | week 2 >>

It goes like this:

On a monday evening, Pamela fucking Isley decides to take her quarrel with Gotham's newest weapons company – God, could they fucking give it a break? B had only busted the last one a few weeks ago before they'd brought the city down on everyone – to new heights.

Jason's sitting in traffic with a bag of groceries slung around the handle of his bike when he gets the call. He's eager to beat you home, ready to make you dinner and heavily intent on wining and dining you after a long weekend of missing each other.

His fingers tap against his thighs impatiently, impatience sitting beneath his skin like an itch. Spikes of activity during the week had meant his plans for Friday night – dinner and a deserved night off – had been pushed to the backburner. He'd returned home in the early stillness of dawn, unable to get more than a couple of hours with you before your phone had rung, a friend's emergency pulling you out of bed with an apologetic grimace and a promise to reschedule your date night.

The headset in his ear notifies him of an incoming call, the syllables of your name dulled by the clinical, robotic voice of his phone's intelligence system. His mouth curves up into a smile beneath his helmet.

"Hi, baby," he answers immediately. "I'm on my way home, you need anything? I just left the store but I can go back–"

You cut him off in a tight voice. Later, he'll be ashamed that the first thing that comes to mind is, not another fucking postponement. Now, his brows furrow at your tone, stomach dipping uncertainly when it becomes clear that this is something more serious.

Your voice wobbles, high-pitched and tearful. At the same time, the dash on his bike begins to flash in rapid succession, the paging system he'd installed for the bats to communicate with him glaring back at him, blood red.

ORACLE: CHEMICAL LEAK DOWNTOWN. BATS + R.ROBIN EN ROUTE. ALL UNITS STANDBY.

His dread plummets and for a moment his throat closes over. You're speaking to him but he struggles to make it out through the ringing in his ears.

"Jason, I'm – I'm home but I don't – I don't know what to do."

He bites back a curse and tries to swallow the lump in his throat, grappling for words of comfort.

"It's okay," he soothes, straining to keep his voice level. "Listen, sweetheart, can you go lock the door for me? I'm – shit – I'll be home soon, alright? It'll be okay. We'll fix it."

He doesn't give himself time to linger on the call after you confirm you've locked it, barking out a command to dial Oracle that his system fails to pick up twice, only registering after he steadies himself.

She picks up on the third ring. It irritates him how unfazed she sounds when he explains the situation to her. He hears the click of her keyboard in the background, the hum of her monitors. Each passing second as she patches through to Nightwing is agony and the slow crawl of traffic does little to help.

His leg has begun to jostle the bike with the weight of its shaking when she returns to their call.

"You're not going to like this," she says and he feels the bile rising in his throat.

"What." He grits it out through his teeth, unable to manage much more than that. He hears Oracle sigh.

"Looks like an aphrodisiac," she says clinically. "Her plan was to get them caught compromised enough to lose credit publicly."

"Oracle." She hears his growl for what it is – Tell me whether or not it's over.

"It's non-lethal," she affirms and he sighs harshly. The tightness in his chest loosens ever so slightly as she talks. "Ivy let it off near city hall because most of the shareholders were scheduled to hold a meeting – that's where your girl works, right? Alf's working on an antidote but she should be relatively fine until it's ready. Just – keep an eye on her."

Tim joins the line then and Jason startles at the sound of his voice in his ear.

"I don't know what the fuck she wanted to achieve," the boy grumbles. He's a little out of breath and in any other situation, Jason would have something to say about that. Tonight, he's not in the mood for jokes.

"Red," he barks out. The kid makes a distracted noise, and he can hear the sounds of a scuffle on the other end. "You tell Ivy if anything happens to my girl, I'll make sure she's next."

He doesn't wait to hear what's sure to be a non-committal answer at best, kicking off and veering between the lined up vehicles. There's an outroar from the drivers around him, laying on their car horns. Someone pokes their head out of their window to scream at him.

He hears none of it, the blood rushing in his ears keeping him single-minded.

This string that twines him to you isn't new. It wears signs of age, shows the years in the way his fingers reach for yours in the early moments of his day, the turn of your eyes to his in any room. He's seen a few summers with you at his side but the fear –

Blood, coagulating, the cold brush of death, splintered wood beneath nails and a haunting smile

– the fear never stagnates.

A bitter, resigned shard of him breathes out as he speeds through the streets. A veritable sword over his crown, this almost seems expected. Loathing colours the skyline and he, the fool, to think he could hold this one, precious, beloved thing unscathed.

He forgoes the groceries in his haste, leaving the bags in his haste to throw himself up the stairs and out of the parking garage. Pulse thundering in his ears, sweat coating his palms, he scrabbles with the key to your shared apartment.

The door flies open and a hand is grabbing him by the front of his shirt before he can slot it through the lock.

You, wild-eyed and frantic, pull him inside with a bitten off sob.

"Shh, shh, I'm here, come here."

He kicks the door shut, reaching behind him to flip the locks with one hand. The other curls you protectively to his chest, fingers splaying over your back. The sight of you calms him considerably and he chokes out a stuttered breath, the lump in his throat dissolving to give way for a flood of relief.

You're burning in his arms, the thin undershirt you've got on soaked through with sweat, face glowing with perspiration. Eyebrows knitted, you cling to him tighter and he finds himself making noises of comfort.

"Jason, I –"

"Shh. I know, honey, I know," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are tearful, salt spilling over lashes and rolling down your cheeks. "Come on, let's get you to lie down."

"No," you whine, pitching miserably as he shuffles the both of you towards your bedroom, face creasing with every movement. "Hurts."

"I know," he whispers, hating the way his voice cracks. His eyes burn painfully. "'ll get you a towel, alright?"

You're deposited on the bed and he makes a turn for the bathroom, wetting a cloth. When he enters the bedroom again you've pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed. You've shed the pants you'd worn earlier, left now in only and undershirt and your underwear. His name falls from your lips pitifully and he steps forward, lips turning down into a commiserating frown.

You shy away from the cloth when he presses it against your forehead, letting out a hiss as it makes contact with your burning skin. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck and you seem to like that much better, sighing under his touch. Jason takes advantage of this to keep you in place, mopping the sweat off your face and neck, trying his best not to give into your dissatisfied squirming.

"I know, I'm an asshole," he mutters, when you cry out his name, displeasure making itself clear on your face. "Get better so you can yell at me for it, alright?"

"Don't wanna – yell at you," you mumble, wetting your lips as they part.

He clocks the dilation of your pupils a little too late and shakes his head adamantly, trying to draw back but you've got a hold of his shirt, pulling him forward. He catches himself with a hand agains the headboard, a knee pressing into the mattress beneath him.

You stare up at him, mouth turning down into a pained grimace.

"C'mon honey," he mutters, pleading, feeling his face flood with warmth. "Don't do this to me. Be good, you'll be alright, okay? Any minute they're gonna call and tell me Alf's got an antidote ready – shit, maybe we should just drive you there now -"

"No," you sob, face crumpling under the weight of your tears again, pushing up on your knees to fling your arms around his shoulders. The effort of the movement makes you stutter out a gasp and he's forced to band an arm around your waist to steady the both of you.

Your tears wet the skin of his neck, your body pressed flush against his. He becomes aware, regrettably, of the skin beneath his fingers, your undershirt having ridden up to expose the softness of your lower back.

"Please," you hiccup into his shoulder. "Please, Jason – Please."

He'll have to ask Oracle later if second-hand exposure to the toxin is supposed to have an effect on him. At the touch of your chest to his, he feels himself warm all over, mouth drying when you begin to keen, arching up into his touch in an effort to get him to do something.

"Fuck," he curses. "Fuck. Alright, just – come here."

He kicks his shoes off, the sneakers clattering against the floor, and crawls onto the bed properly. Sat up against the headboard, he meets your baleful gaze with a raised brow and reaches for you.

Jason shakes his head when you go to straddle his lap, maneuvering you against his chest until your back rests against it. You let out a whimper, displeased, but he shakes his head.

"This is all you're getting, alright? Just – it'll tide you over until they call."

He spreads your legs until they hang over his own, your thighs bracketing his and leaving you open. His blood thunders in his ears, hand trembling as he reaches it up to your mouth, fingers prodding at the soft plush of your lips.

Your tongue laves at his digits, a muffled moan trapped in the recesses of your throat. One of your hands curls around his wrist, the other perching against his thigh, nails curling against the fabric of his jeans. He can feel you shift against him, hips canting ever so slightly over his own.

Awful, wretched, lecherous, he stiffens under the movement, jeans tightening. His free hand wraps around you hip with the intent of pinning you in place and stopping you. Somehow, he finds himself guiding you back and forth instead.

You tip your head back against his shoulder, baring the soft line of your throat as you drool around his fingers. He can feel the wetness pooling around his knuckles, the softness of your ass against him, separated only by a few layers. If he cranes his neck, he'll probably find your panties sticky with your need. The thought alone makes his eyes flutter.

The room is blanketed in muffled whimpers, the whispers of rustling sheets and his shaky breaths. You've quietened down some since he'd gotten his fingers in your mouth, but the heat seems to have returned with a vengeance when you begin to fuss in his lap again. Your fingers dig into his thigh and you whine, tugging at his wrist in an effort to push his hand where you need it most.

He hushes you with a squeeze to your hip and tips your face to meet his. Bleary eyed, silvery tracks smattered across your cheeks, you're struggling to hold on. He lowers his mouth to yours, a chaste kiss that deepens when you part your lips to lick into his mouth.

"Jason, come on."

"No, don't take it off," he whispers when your hands make to tug your underwear off. You whine and he hushes you again, "Shh, I'm going to take care of you, be patient for me, alright?"

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and watches you shudder at the first swipe. Similarly affected, he feels himself twitch when his fingers make contact with the soft slickness of your flesh, gliding against silken folds.

"Oh," you sigh, sagging slightly into him.

"There you go." He presses a kiss to your sweaty temple, trying to pretend this is just another night together and he's being a loving boyfriend, that you're not delirious with want just because of the toxin running through your bloodstream. "That's my girl."

He presses gentle circles against you, closing his eyes and ghosting his mouth over the curve of your shoulder. The smell of sex is thick in the air, that heady musk and sweat that he could drown in. Your breaths come in pants now as he works you open gently, thumb rolling over your centre.

"Just like that," he rumbles, straining to keep his head on straight. It's difficult, when you arch against him, his name spilling from your lips in adoration coloured mewls. Your arm raises, curling behind you to embrace his neck.

It doesn't take you very long to come, pent up and sensitive – he discovers this when his hand grazes over your chest to stroke your face and you keen so loud he fears he'll come in his pants at the sound, your mouth, bitten raw, dropping open as you moan. A few strokes against your centre and you come apart in his arms, hard. The tremors wrack your body long after the fact, your core pulsing around his fingers.

He, ever the fool, expects this to sate your hunger.

Whatever Ivy's put in her newest concoction is potent. You gather your breath quick enough and it becomes apparent that just the one isn't nearly enough. He's pushed back against the headboard, stunned into silence as you clamber onto his thigh, pawing at him like you can't get close enough.

You struggle with the fabric of his shirt before giving up and any questions he has sputter off into silence when you begin to rock back and forth on him. The denim of his jeans is unforgiving against the thin, sodden material of your underwear, providing a harsh friction that you lose yourself to. He watches, his heart racing, you taking your pleasure for yourself.

It isn't as though you've never done this in front of him – he remembers, blurry, the aftermath of a dinner date that had seen you riding his thigh on the couch, still in your dress.

But this… This feels different.

There's an urgency to this, a franticness running beneath your skin that pushes your hips down harder, more unforgiving. Your face screws up, salt misting your cheeks and neck.

For a moment, Jason almost feels as though he's the one that's been hit. You take on a blurry quality, smudged around the edges like wet paint, wanton, hazy. A gauzy film over his eyes, he blinks, and blinks.

When you come once more, it shatters and he's aware of the stain that's bled into the dark denim on his thigh, a stickiness that's smeared between your thighs. Your panties are ruined and he gulps when he drags his gaze up from between your legs to your face.

Quiet, hungry, you're already staring at him. Your chest heaves with exertion but you remain still otherwise, lips parting in invitation, eyes half-lidded.

"Baby–"

"You said you'd take care of me," you intone beseeching, voice affecting a trembling, delicate quality.

Fuck.

He's never been good at denying you much. Already, he feels the urge to take you into his arms and promise to make it better, but he forces his hand to stay, curling his fingers in the bedsheets.

You crawl forward, until your lips are ghosting over his, eyes swallowing his field of vision until all he can see are the stars in your irises. He feels the

"Jason, please, it still hurts," you whimper quietly, a wounded noise that carves him from the inside out, guilt and shame poisoning his every nerve. He's at war with himself, wanting to ease your pain – he feels responsible for it, in a way – and hesitating similarly. Is this right? Is it okay?

Before he can come up with an answer, you press your mouth to his.

The last of his inhibitions crumbles completely under the plush of your mouth.

He rolls the both of you over, relishing in the gasp you let out, the sight of you splayed against the mattress. He's quick to divest himself of his clothes, tugging his shirt off recklessly, not minding the sound of ripping fabric he vaguely registers hearing. The jeans go next, and his underwear in one, flung to some corner of the bedroom.

Your spit slick mouth curves up into a delighted, drunken smile when he crawls over you, body eclipsing yours with every intent of ravishing you.

Jason holds himself up with one hand, the other reaching to the bedside table and rummaging in the drawer for the box he keeps there. Only, he comes up short and dread dawns over him in a cold wave when he remembers –

He'd used the last of the condoms a few nights ago. It hadn't mattered in the last couple of days, the weekend too busy for the both of you to do much else but curl up next to each other, too exhausted to consider working up a sweat.

"Fuck," he whispers, shaking. "Fuck, baby, there aren't, um…"

Your eyes fill with tears at the unfinished sentence, a hiccuped sob stuttering out of your chest.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he tries to soothe you, a hand smoothing down your face. "I'll just – I'll run to the store, I'll be back before you know it."

"No, please, just–" Watery eyed and upset, you tug him closer as though fearing he'll take off. "I don't care, I don't, I just – I need you, Jason. Please."

He stares at you, heart thundering in his ears. "Fuck you without –"

"Need you now," you whimper, lips tugging down pitifully into a pout that cuts through his chest.

It isn't as though this is his first time fucking you raw –

Tipsy laughter, hushed whispers of it's fine, just once, we'll get the morning after pill.

– but still. This is different, another ballpark entirely.

You stare up at him, desperation in every crease and curve of your face, pleading with him. Too far gone to care, you beg him.

"I'll, um," he rasps out, throat dry, "I'll pull out."

You make some sort of noise that sounds like a vague affirmation, tugging him closer hastily. Poor, pretty girl. His chest aches at the sight of you, needy, looking to him to fix it.

"I'll fix it," he finds himself muttering, lining himself up with your entrance. You've similarly taken to murmuring under your breath, hands carding through his hair, devotion in your every touch.

"Need you so bad, please, please, baby."

The slick that smears against his head, the soft warmth of you, nearly makes his eyes roll back into his head. A drawn out whimper spills from your lips at the press of his hips, the first inches of him pushing into your tight heat.

You sink into the mattress as he notches himself further inside, mouth opening. You paint an obscene picture, your lips bitten raw, naked chest arched. He lowers his head to mouth at your nipples, teeth teasing at the sensitive points. You're warm, so warm beneath him – around him.

He's given only a moment to breathe before you push your hips up, impatient. Fucking yourself against him, your fingers dig into the muscle of his back for leverage, tucking him close enough to you that he brushes against your neck and tastes the salt on your skin.

Jason sets a harried pace, bucking forward against you. You begin to cry out again, every resounding slap of his skin against yours drawing out a moan that curls tight around him and presses down on his stomach. You exchange panted breaths between open mouthed kisses, tongues and teeth clashing messily, muffled pleas that beg for more, more, more.

Filthy, debauched, it doesn't take very long for you to approach your peak. Jason, lost in the wetness of your cunt, feels his own building and knows this is a dangerous game he's playing, toeing the line of recklessness.

"Close," he pants, feeling the tell-tale fluttering of you around him, your orgasm imminent. If he can just hold out until he's gotten you there –

Your legs wrap around him, hold so tight he's not able to do much more than rock against you in desperate, quick rolls of his hips.

"Inside," you warble. Your hands come to cradle his head, coaxing him down to kiss you, licking up into his mouth sweetly, teeth catching on his bottom lip. "Mmh, please, baby? Please? I – Jason – want it so bad, need you inside."

"Oh fuck," he gasps, voice hitching, breath stuttering. His face creases, overcome, and you grin, dazed, drunken, pulling him into another sloppy kiss. What's he to do?

You scream into his mouth at the same time that Jason comes. His vision whitens at the sensation of your pulsing heat, the unforgiving tightening that demands his orgasm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh at your hips, burying himself to the hilt and surrendering to your claim.

Warm and wet around him, the evidence of his debauchery coats the inside of your thighs and clings to the base of him. He's light-headed, a little winded, and it takes him a moment to gather his sensibilities. When he looks down, he finds you a boneless puddle beneath him, eyelids fluttering tiredly.

He should pull out. He knows he ought to – but he's broken so many rules, what's another? Jason gathers you in his arms and rolls over gently, tucking you against his chest, a hand skimming up and down the length of your spine comfortingly.

"Fuck," he whispers out into the air, and you murmur atop him. He glances down, meeting your bleary eyes. "Y'just had to go and get caught in that crossfire, huh?"

"N'my fault," you grumble, pressing your face back into his chest.

"Gonna give me a heart attack," he grumbles, dropping a kiss to your crown. Then, with a look over at the bedside table, he jostles you a bit. "Hey. Don't fall asleep. We still have to get you the antidote."

"Wake me when 's ready," is your answer, tone somehow managing a prissiness unexpected of someone who'd just been fucked to within an inch of their life, and he drops his head back into the pillows, incredulous.

This girl would be the death of him.

first kinktober 2024 fic let's go!! i genuinely didn't think i was going to be able to commit to kinktober this year (i'm still nervous about whether i'll be able to) because finals are literally just around the corner and i'm stressing. but hopefully you enjoyed the first installment to this year's kinktober and the coming ones don't disappoint, either!

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[nymphoheretic]

Mating bond. Scent glands. Fangs. Biting. Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Everything that deals with omegaverse.

Welcome to the Omergaverse collab!!

This NSFW collab is open for artists and writers aged 18+ (no need to follow me); minors and ageless blogs are refrained from participating or I will automatically block you.

The theme for this collab is all about hot, toe-curling, pussy-throbbing, thigh-clenching, mouth-drooling a/b/o claiming/mating bonds. Basically all things omegeverse!

Any fandom is allowed, but please make sure to use either a time-skip/aged-up version of whomever you choose!

All forms of work (art–especially moodboards, drabbles, longfics, oneshots, headcanons etc) and any genre are allowed. Dark content entries are also allowed, provided that they are properly tagged and all.

FOR WRITTEN ENTRIES: The minimum word count is 500. If your work’s wc is more than 500, kindly add in a ‘read more’ to avoid dash clogging.

TO JOIN: Send in via ask your character of choice + if your entry will be art or writing. Please note each person/blog can only submit up to two entries(I don't want anyone to over work themselves🥺). Character repetition is also allowed–each character can be used twice, but you cannot use the same character in all of your submitted entries, unless a threesome is involved. (Character x character is also allowed!)

Ex.g:“Nymphieeee!!! Can i join your collab with Eren Jaeger from AOT + art??? Ily mwah ♥️”, or, “NYMPH!! CAN I PLEASE WRITE FOR BAJI FOR YOUR COLLAB??? 🥵🥵🥵”

There is no deadline to follow here (you can join in anytime), since we all have our personal stuff outside Tumblr to tend to, so take your time in doing your entries! Once done, tag me at @nymphoheretic in your finished work/s and use the collab tag ‘#omegavervse🐺collab’ to track.

If you have any questions regarding the collab, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask/DM via Tumblr or Discord (if we’re moots).

Network tag: @enchantedforest-network

[awkward-walking-potato]

hi!!! i love your work. i dont know if you have done this before, but would you do a sfw or nsfw alphabet with gambit?

A - Affection:

Gambit is naturally affectionate. Whether it's through his charming words, a subtle touch on the arm, or a mischievous smile, he shows affection in a smooth, almost effortless way.

B - Best Memory Together:

Remy’s favorite memories involve quiet moments away from the chaos, especially if they include a game of cards and some playful banter.

C - Cuddles:

Gambit enjoys cuddling, but with a bit of flair. Expect him to keep things light with teasing comments, but he’s also good at making you feel secure in his arms.

D - Domestic:

He’s a bit messy, preferring spontaneity over routine. But, he can charm his way into making it seem endearing when he leaves cards or bits of gear around.

E - Excitement:

Remy’s life is full of excitement, and he loves bringing you along for the ride. Whether it's a daring mission or a fun night out, he enjoys living life on the edge.

F - Fights:

Arguments with Remy are rare, but when they do happen, he prefers to smooth things over quickly. He hates leaving things unresolved and will use humor or flirtation to break the tension.

G - Gentle:

Though he has a rougher side due to his upbringing, Remy can be incredibly gentle when he wants to be, especially when it comes to physical affection or when you’re feeling vulnerable.

H - Hugs:

Remy’s hugs are always warm, and they come with a dash of his usual charm. He tends to embrace you from behind, playfully wrapping his arms around your waist.

I - Inspiration:

He admires your strength and resilience. Even if you don’t see it in yourself, he’s quick to remind you of how capable you are, often with a wink and a smirk.

J - Jealousy:

While Remy can get a bit possessive, he tries to play it cool. He trusts you, but if someone else seems to be getting too close, he’ll throw in some extra charm to remind them—and you—who you’re with.

K - Kisses:

Remy’s kisses are playful and teasing, but they can turn passionate in a heartbeat. He likes to leave you breathless, savoring each kiss as if it might be the last.

L - Love:

When Gambit falls in love, it’s intense and all-encompassing. He’s devoted and protective, showing his love through both grand gestures and smaller, thoughtful actions.

M - Mornings:

He’s not much of a morning person, preferring to sleep in whenever he can. But waking up next to you always puts him in a good mood, even if he teases you for being up earlier.

N - Nicknames:

Expect lots of French pet names like mon cher or chère. He enjoys using them, especially when he wants to tease or flirt with you.

O - Open:

Though Gambit is naturally secretive, especially about his past, he slowly opens up the more he trusts you. It might take time, but he’ll eventually let you in on his deeper thoughts and emotions.

P - Patience:

He’s surprisingly patient, especially when it comes to teaching you things or waiting for you to open up to him. His charm may be quick, but he understands that trust takes time.

Q - Quiet Moments:

While he enjoys the thrill of action, Remy also treasures quiet moments spent together, especially if they involve a card game or just lying in each other's arms.

R - Romance:

Remy is a natural romantic. He loves surprising you with flowers, small gifts, and candlelit dinners. His suave personality makes even the simplest gestures feel like grand displays of affection.

S - Support:

He’s always there to back you up, whether it’s in battle or during personal struggles. Remy believes in you fully and won’t hesitate to remind you of your strength and worth.

T - Trust:

Trust is a big deal for Gambit. He’s been burned before, so it takes a while for him to fully open up. Once you’ve earned his trust, though, he’s fiercely loyal.

U - Understanding:

He’s been through a lot in his life, so Remy is good at understanding complex emotions and difficult situations. He won’t push you to talk, but he’s always there when you’re ready.

V - Vulnerability:

While Gambit puts on a confident front, he has his vulnerable moments. He’ll only show this side to someone he truly trusts, and when he does, it’s a sign of how much he cares about you.

W - Wildcard:

Remy’s unpredictable, and he likes to keep things exciting. You never quite know what to expect with him, whether it’s a sudden romantic gesture or a spontaneous adventure.

X - X-Factor:

His X-Factor is definitely his charm. Remy has a way of making everyone feel special, but with you, there’s an extra layer of sincerity behind his playful nature.

Y - Yearning:

Remy is always yearning for a connection, whether it’s physical or emotional. He craves closeness and enjoys those rare, intimate moments where he can just be himself with you.

Z - Zen:

Though Gambit thrives in chaos, he finds his moments of zen in your presence, especially when he can let down his guard and simply enjoy the peace of being with you

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

WIP Word Game

Rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

i was tagged by both @sidekick-hero, @runninriot, AND @matchingbatbites who tagged me while i was drafting up this post!

they gave me the words UNICORN, WHOLE, and BURN respectively.

here we go, friends! the first is from a thing i'm writing about if the Munsons were the ones to find El in S1, the second are all from a few different wips i have, tagged along each letter, and the last is all from a last holiday au/rewrite i'm slowly working through <3

putting everything below the cut bc this is gonna be a long one!

U

“Uhm, Wayne.. She’s got-–” Eddie starts to say something in a hushed tone, but is cut off by the sound of the toilet flushing behind him through the wall. Soon after, Eleven returns to the kitchen.

N

No one says anything for a handful of breaths.

I

“I am Eleven, not Ellie.”

C

“C’mon in kiddo, we’ll find somethin’ for you to wear.” Wayne says, offering her his hand as he pushes the door open.

O

On the way though, he heard the call come through the old CB radio he’d mounted on the dash from his time in a rig. Joyce Byers’ youngest son has gone missing.

R

“Rise n’ shine!” He says with a knock to the door, “Y’wake, Ellie?”

N

“No.. not how old you are, what’s your name?”

-----

W - from part 3 of my steddie witch!au

“What is your name, young man?”

H - from the next part of my ghost!eddie fic

He picks up the abandoned remote, starting the movie over from the beginning, “It’s a good one, muppets, music, David Bowie in tight pants…it has it all.”

O - from a little blurb i started writing based off something my husband did the other day 🤣

“Okay. Good.” Eddie’s still smiling, “Now get off me, you’re way too warm.”

L - from a werewolf!steve thing i've been working on based on the tags from this post

“Look at you, big boy, y’came to see me after all—”

E - from something i'm writing based off this tiktok of all things lmao

Eddie nudges him with his shoulder, “How could you miss me? You barely knew me.”

-----

B

…But where’s he gonna go? The first fuckin’ thing on the list and he can’t even figure that out himself.

U

“Ugh, really with the sending me to the floor thing?” He says, unable to stop smiling.

R

Robin would help him get the scoop on the new arrival, he was sure.

N

No more putting it off, no more waiting for someone to be around to go with him (a common argument with himself whenever he thought about taking a trip), you don’t have time to be a coward any longer. Go.

also if you want to know more about any of these wips, please ask! i'd love to send a sentence or two out over this weekend! 😊

I'm going to tag @ anyone who sees this and wants to do it too!! your word is UNTIL

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

Mads, I've been Autistic about what breed(s) of dog the FireFam could be and even if you don't like interact w this post I just would like to make you laugh- I may have to post multiples b/c there's A Lot. Ok, so, Bobby is a yellow lab a la Shadow from Homeward Bound and I will die on that hill. Athena is, obv, a Dobie- she's stunning, but a softy for her family but she also makes smiling look like a threat. (1/?)

Thank you for your patience dear I was rushing to finish the F&F AU and was also rather busy this weekend in general. I'm including your other three asks here as screenshots and this all is going to get a bit long so I'm putting everything below a cut to spare people's dashes!

FIRST OF ALL, HOW DARE YOU. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU.

SHADOW FROM HOMEWARD BOUND!?

I'M GOING TO DROWN IN MY OWN TEARS.

WHEN THE KID IS LIKE OH MAYBE HE WAS TOO OLD AND THEN SHADOW APPEARS BECAUSE HE'S GOING TO COME HOME TO HIS BOY NO MATTER WHAT!!!! G O D

I NEED TO BE SEDATED!!!!

Ahem.

STICK A LITTLE CROWN ON HER AND CALL HER ATHENA!

I babysat for a family that had a Doberman and he was truly a sweetheart. So protective of me and would stay glued to my side while I was there. "A softie for her family but makes smiling look like a threat" is soooooo Athena.

oh my GOD I'm DYING

Look at this baby. Pure fucking ADHD right here. *pats puppy* This guy can fit SO much anxiety and innate need to be of use in him!

I'M FUCKING HOWLING OVER EDDIE. LOOK YOU'RE NOT... YOU'RE NOT WRONG ABOUT THE CORGI COMMENT. THERE ARE TEARS IN MY EYES. BUT.

This is still Eddie in my opinion.

Someone send that bit about Chim to Kenneth Choi I think he'd find it hysterical.

BEHOLD. CHIMNEY HAN. Look at those EARS.

I also personally could see Chim as a greyhound or a whippet.

Chim's just got this fastness about him that makes me think of that kind of dog. Is this me remembering how he literally just SPRINTED away from Albert while playing basketball because he panicked about lying? Maybe. You can't prove anything.

I had to remind myself what a Chow Chow is and OHMYGOD IT'S SO FLUFFY???

However I always saw Hen as a Great Pyrenees.

These things will fuck you UP. They're flock dogs but not in the Border Collie sense. They don't herd. They kill the predators that try to go after the flock. They will chase down the wolves and destroy them. And they are super super SUPER protective of and gentle with kids. They ADORE kids. So that's my two cents there!

Ohmygod Maddie is SUCH a Border Collie.

INCH resting that you say Standard Poodle for Karen...

Poodles are actually what my mom grew up with and she's always talked about how smart and wonderful they are, she's owned three in her lifetime and adores them. I know they kinda have this stereotype of being snooty but I think they're great and they ARE so fucking smart holy shit. They're smarter than some humans I've met.

However. Chris.

I'm gonna have to fight you (lovingly) on this one, Nonny.

I will say that when I googled this dog I laughed so fucking hard my ribs hurt. I CRIED.

They are very cute as puppies!

However. I must counter-argue and say that Christopher is...

AN ENGLISH CREAM DACHSHUND

*sobbing* look at how CUTE it is!!!!!

*continues sobbing over the cute*

Anyway thus concludes the nonny's opinions, and mine! I had a good laugh over this series of asks, thank you nonny. I hope you had a good weekend.

[squadmuse]

DATES ALPHABET

THE MATT CASEY EDITION

A/N: @deanstead 's genius mind and fantastic Matt fics plus her anons have got me deep in the Matt rabbit hole, much love & kudos to them all… so here is my first ever Matt fic!

A - Amusement Park / Arcade

An arcade date definitely happens when you’re dating Matt. The two of you walk along Navy Pier one evening, it’s a lovely summer night and both so in love - you play shooter games, racing simulators, throwing games and more, with Matt winning you so many cuddly bears & animals.

B - Biking / Brunch

Brunch usually happens as a date for you and Matt to catch up after a long shift. You’ll meet each other there and get a booth, cuddling up and chatting away over some nice coffee or fruit juice, pancakes and fruit. The two of usually playfully steal bites of the others order.

C - Candlelit dinner / Cabin getaway

Matt will ask Kelly for use of his cabin once in a while, usually for the day during a holiday. The two of you unplug (not entirely due to careers) and enjoy being around nature.

D - Dinner Cruise / Drive-in Movie

The dinner cruise date is usually reserved for anniversaries and it’s something that you and Matt always look forward to and enjoy the nice meal on the water.

E - Eiffel Tower / Escape Room

Matt loves spoiling you and one time took you to Paris, France for a vacation holiday and one of your dates there was up the Eiffel Tower. He is a big romantic gesture guy and where else than the City of Love?

F - Football Game / Fireworks

The 4th of July celebrations are a date where you and Matt cuddle on a picnic blanket if he’s luckily not working, and watch the Chicago sky light up but if Matt is on shift then he’ll have you come to 51 and watch them there with you.

G - Gala / Glamping

A gala date happens more when Matt is an alderman but it happens once in a while for a charity or the firehouse. He looks extremely dashing in his dress uniform and you look lovely in your gown.

H - Hockey Match / Harvest Festival

Matt surprises you one autumnal Saturday with a date to a harvest festival. The two of you just enjoy the day, drinking cider, eating pumpkin pie and kissing in corn mazes together.

I - Interior Design Expo / Italian Restaurant

Somehow you and Matt ended up an interior design expo one weekend through his construction job and make it a date. Matt is in his element and thinks of ideas for his renovations etc. while you love the art and design side of things but the two love the merging of your interests.

J - Jacuzzi / Jogging

Matt Casey in jacuzzi is something we all need and it’s something you set up one date night staycation, bringing him to the warm jacuzzi to relax and enjoy which he does and does some more with you in your bikini.

K - Kayaking/Kickboxing

With you and Matt working shifts, one way you have dates is at the gym and you get him into trying out a kickboxing class with you and you both enjoy it.

L - Lakeside getaway / Live Music

A grateful survivor gifted Matt some tickets to a rock concert and of course he took you. Much like the Rush concert, the two of you got front row seats, met the band and got a backstage tour too.

M - Museum / Masquerade

You and Matt like to just spend quiet time with each other and Chicago is a wealth of museums that the two of you wander around hand in hand just enjoying the history around you both.

N - Nightclub / Nine Pin Bowling

Matt and you are very competitive and whenever there is a bowling tournament or game held in the firehouse then the two of you are revving each other up and riling up each other too.

O - Observatory / Orchestra Concert

The orchestra date happens when Matt is an alderman and the two of you are attending a benefit concert for the children’s hospital. It ends up being a soothing experience and the two of you enjoy the new date.

P - Picnic / Photoshoot

Matt and you will have picnic dates during the summer or spring, stretched out on the blanket enjoying each other’s company and laughing as you feed each other grapes or cuddling against a tree in the public park.

Q - Quiz Night / Quiet Time

One night Mollys holds a quiz night and of course you and Matt team up together to compete. He’s a smart guy - intellectually, emotionally & street, and so are you - so it’s no wonder that the two of you walk away with the top prize.

R -Resort Weekend / Road Trip

The road trip date happens when you and Matt go away for a long weekend or public holiday. You’ll pack the car up to go camping and roll the windows down, laughing and singing along to the radio.

S - Spa Day / Swimming

You’re big on keeping up your swimming abilities and the healing power of the water, so once or twice you have dragged Matt to your favourite pool or beach and just swim around. You do end up making out a few times but Matt tries to keep it PG-13 in public.

T - Tiki Bar / Tango Lessons

The tiki bar dates that you and Matt have, usually result in massive hangovers the next day but you both have a ton of fun and Matt is cute in his Hawaiian shirt and you’re cute with your luau on.

U - Upscale Dining / Unplugged Date

Matt enjoys just switching off and getting away from electronics. Sometimes the two of you will read together, just snuggle or sometimes cook

V - Valentines Day / Volunteer

Matt always makes sure he is the one organising your Valentines Day dates together and he always goes all out. Dinner cruises, fancy restaurants etc. these dates are very special to you and Matt.

W - Woodworking / Weekend

As Matt has his construction job, one way you end up sort of helping or doing something linked to his hobbies and skills is via woodworking, and he loves seeing how excited you get after creating something out of the wood.

X - eXcursions / eXpensive

Now an excursion date between Matt and you varies from date to date. It can be sailing and fishing, food tours, aquariums etc. they’re never the same and never boring.

Y - Yacht Cruise / Yoga

You love yoga and whenever you see that Matt is getting stressed out or worked up with his duties, you drag him to the yoga studio and get him into the different positions and he jokes that you want him more flexible for more mature reasons.

Z - Zoo / Zip Lining

You love animals and so does Matt, so the Lincoln Park Zoo is sometimes a date idea. Sometimes it’s a date shared between you both as you take the younger Herrmann kids out for the day or Boden’s son but either way, you and Matt just enjoy any time spent together.

[trulybetty]

Sunday Week in Review XI

This week's header is dedicated to @legendary-pink-dot for the idea of Dieter being his own 80s sitcom 😝💕

Is everyone okay this morning? Have we all recovered from last night? Do we need to hydrate, grab a snack (not that kind of snack) and recoup? Any welfare checks we need to send out? Phew 🫠

It's been a slog to get through this week, and I didn't get to as much reading as I wanted, which you'll see below. These daily prompts have been taking up more time than I expected and work has picked up (rude). But I'm also realising as I read through people's weekly round-ups, that I've missed a lot this week that I haven't seen come across my dash.

So if you've posted something this week (fanfic, thots or anything else) and you'd like to share it - feel free to drop it in my DM's or as an Asks!

T R U L Y  U P D A T E S . . .

oct' x 15 - first wine (sequins!joel x reader)

oct' x 16 - flying kites (frankie x reader)

oct' x 17 - whispers (chiffon!dieter x bryony)

oct' x 18 - picking apples (sequins!joel x reader)

oct' x 19 - ghosts (dieter x f!reader)

oct' x 20 - sweater weather (chiffon!dieter x bryony)

oct' x 21 - acorns (tim rockford x f!reader)

birthdays, besties & bravos (celebrating the lovely @wildemaven)

W H A T  I  R E A D . . .

A Safe Haven | Chapter 9 (Joel) (Check TW’s) by @joelsgreys This was the update I've been so patiently waiting for and it did not disappoint! This is a fantastic series that I never thought I'd get so emotionally invested in - but that's how good Vee is! This is always one of my top recommendations when suggesting Joel fanfics to read!

Working Title | Chapter 14 (Dieter) by @rhoorl Another great update for Dieter and Belle - I'm rooting for these two from the sidelines and I'm exciting to see how things play out for them!

Delta Landscaping | Chapter 8 (Triple Frontier + Pedro Characters) by @rhoorl Okay, there's not one, but two Pedro Character appearances this week and I'm trying to figure out how I can move to Mule Falls Court like yesterday - because it's all going down over there and I highly recommend this be added to your reading if you haven't read it yet. A Month of Sundays (Various) by @gnpwdrnwhiskey I'm living for all of these prompts and I can't choose one or two because they've all been soooo good!

M E M O R A B L E  P O S T S . . .

I'm on edge as @for-a-longlongtime shares more of their WIP that is Peña x Rockford x Reader, with that line up you know it's going to be good!

Self Care with Dieter & Jett (@morallyinept) - this week it's emotions and highlights some important stuff!

More Dieter and his hippo table shenanigans delivered by @i-love-movies to @gnpwdrnwhiskey, this made my week 🤣

B R O U G H T  T H E  J O Y . . .

Bit of a personal one, but we got to do a little Halloween festive trip out yesterday with the little Truly's. Something you're not always able to do when you have a child with extra needs, as events such as these can be a bit overwhelming for a multitude of reasons. So when we're able to attend ones that are specially catered for families like ours, it's always a special occasion - even if it does make you realise how unfit you are wrangling two kids 🤣 Also, keeping on brand, Baby Truly adored all the Halloween decor and was waving and saying hello to her minions the props.

Watched the new Goosebumps on Disney+ not expecting much, and I actually enjoyed it. Little Betty would have been all over this as a kid.

Also, watched my annual viewing of Practical Magic, which thanks to the wonders of the digital age I own to stream to my heart's content regardless of the season.

T H I S  W E E K ' S  J A M . . .

Back in my Matchbox Twenty feels this week 💛 - this one has been in heavy rotation while writing!

Hope everyone has had a great week! Here's to a new week ahead! Hopefully, if Pedro makes another appearance we'll all be ready for it, or at least recovered by then! 😝🫠

Happy Sunday all! ☀️💛

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Carter Academy for Omega Excellence" Pt4

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: age gap, boarding school au, a/b/o, dub-con/non-con, spanking, feminization, dumbification, sexism, misogyny, subjugation, prostate milking, discipline, D/s elements, societal issues, hurt/comfort, mentions of past self-harm, onlyfans, predatory behavior, gender politics

Summary: Bucky is not pleased when he finds out that his parents tricked him and he's being forced to stay at the school.

I realized that AN ENTIRE CHAPTER had been left out of this fic's posting schedule!

😣🫣😭So the old ch 4 is now ch 5 and this is the part that was missing. Hopefully y'all can catch up with a quick re-read before I post the newest part this Thursday!

(Wait! I haven't read a previous chapter! Masterlist)

Part 4 In Science Based Practice

Bucky gets his hopes up when Steve says he’ll get a uniform. Anything to not be standing naked in front of the alpha like this, unable to hide his body’s reactions.

Those hopes are swiftly dashed, however, when he gets a load of what the alpha wants him to wear. “No way!” he squawks, glaring at the clothes that Steve has pulled out from a cabinet. “What the fuck is this, the eighteen-hundreds?!”

“Language, little girl.”

Bucky grits his teeth. “That’s not what the other students were wearing.”

Steve comes over to where Bucky is standing beside the desk, unfolding the different items that make up the uniform, including an undershirt, pullover sweater, and a dress. “You must’ve seen older students,” Steve tells him. “First years wear these.”

“A dress?!”

“Typically I’d say ‘jumper’, but that means ‘sweater’ over here, and it gets mixed up pretty fast. So we settled on ‘overdress’. But yes, a dress. This is your uniform. It’s traditional for omegas your age.”

“Maybe back in the middle ages,” Bucky growls, putting his hands on his hips. But then he remembers that he’s naked and he struggles not to cover himself in embarrassment all over again. He glares at the level of Steve’s shirt collar and sticks his chin out. “I’m not wearing that.”

Steve chuckles softly, taking a step closer. “Oh, you don’t have to wear it,” he purrs, fitting his massive hand to the front of Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky tenses, anticipating that grip again, that thumb digging in and that resultant rush of feeling, but Steve doesn’t squeeze his hand like before. He simply holds it there, the scent from his wrist reaching Bucky’s awareness just as he tells him,

“You don’t have to wear any of this uniform, if you dislike it so much.”

“Good, cause I hate —”

“You always have the option to go naked.” The quiet purr of the threat makes Bucky’s guts lurch and his cock jump. Steve sees it and smiles. “And if you keep it up, I promise that’s exactly what you’ll do.” He swipes his thumb back and forth over Bucky’s glands, though he still doesn’t press like he was doing before. It’s like a taunt—him reminding Bucky of the easy power he has over him. “So what’s it gonna be, honey, hm? You want to get dressed in this perfectly decent uniform I’m offering you, or am I gonna have a really nice view for the rest of the day? It’s completely up to you, but you’d better ask nicely if you want your clothes.”

As much as Bucky doesn’t want to admit it, something small and squirmy inside of him responds to Steve saying it would be a “nice view” to have him naked and on display.

… Something even squirmier responds to the alpha threatening punishment in his deep but quiet voice.

Bucky swallows thickly, fighting the urge to duck down and get more of that scent from Steve’s wrist.  “... Give me the clothes,” he whispers. “Please.”

“How polite,” Steve coos, letting go of him to turn around and grab the outfit’s long-sleeved undershirt. “This first,” he says, handing it over. He leans against the desk, arms folded and watching, as Bucky accepts the shirt and begins to get dressed. 

It’s a modest outfit, with the shirt, followed by the overdress, and then a lightweight pullover sweater. The hem falls to mid-shin on him, and he plucks at the fabric disdainfully while Steve goes to retrieve underwear, knee socks, and a pair of shoes.

Bucky's face screws up when he gets a load of the undergarments Steve expects him to wear. “What the heck?” he mutters, taking them and poking at the material. It’s two separate pieces: first, a sort of jockstrap thingy that has a padded cup area, followed by a plain pair of brief-style underwear. Bucky turns them over in his hands, confused. He’s never seen anything like it, and he’s got no clue which piece he’s meant to put on. “Um, I don’t play any sports …”

Steve chuckles. “No, you’re meant to wear them together, with the jock underneath.”

“Why?”

“It’s desensitizing. We know omegas get the urge to touch themselves quite frequently, so these were designed for our students to wear beneath their regular underwear. The padding gives you a buffer, so to speak. Just a little extra thickness to help protect against … wandering hands.”

Bucky sneers down at the garment. “Unless it locks, it ain’t gonna stop me from —”

“Oh, we have locks if you need them,” Steve says, nodding when Bucky looks up at him incredulously. He raises a challenging eyebrow. “Do you need that, Bucky? Need me to fit you with something a little more … restrictive? I can promise it won’t be as comfortable as what I’m offering you now.” His eyes drop slyly down to Bucky’s cocklet.

Which is, humiliatingly, still quite erect. If Bucky thought he could manage it without Steve seeing, he’d pinch his dick to make it go down. He hates that Steve can see his body reacting. “No,” he grits. “S’fine. I’ll wear ‘em.” He bends over to step into the underwear and pull them up—first the jock, and then the briefs. He stands back up and smoothes the skirt out with a scowl. “This is so stupid. What the hell do you think I’m gonna do the first second I’m alone?” He pokes disdainfully at the woolen fabric of the skirt, feeling the thick padding against his junk. “Christ.” 

“Masturbation isn’t allowed, Bucky,” Steve says, the sternness in his voice drawing Bucky’s attention back up.

“Wait, what do you mean? Like … not at all?” He gapes in disbelief. “Are you crazy? I’m omega! Do you have any idea how hard that would —”

“I do,” Steve interrupts, his bearded face unfairly handsome as he authoritatively says, “I do have a very good idea, in fact, of how omega bodies work.” He pushes off from the desk and steps close, looking down at Bucky. “Not counting nocturnal emissions, how many times a day do you typically orgasm?” he asks quietly. “Hm? Two, five, ten? I promise you won’t shock me. We’ve had some students come in as bonafide sex addicts before, unable to stop rubbing the nearest firm object for hardly more than an hour.”

“I’m not a sex addict,” Bucky grits.

“Good. How many times a day?” Steve repeats himself, blinking down expectantly.

Bucky glares at him, hating that even as he can feel his cheeks heating in anger, his cock is pulsing with new interest against the padding of the horrible underwear between his legs. At least it’s hidden now, he thinks. “Three or four,” he says defiantly. “More, if it’s my heat.”

Steve doesn’t even blink, he just nods down at Bucky like this is all expected information. Hell, Bucky thinks, maybe it is. It’s not like he’s ever had friends that he could ask about it. At his old school, only one other boy in his grade was openly O (one or two kids who passed for beta seemed pretty suss to Bucky, though). Point is, he’s never had a peer whom he could ask how much they felt the need to touch themselves. They didn’t talk about masturbation in his school’s sex ed, and porn certainly wasn’t going to yield the answer. Bucky knows better than most, just how fake that is. 

So he really has no clue what “normal” is supposed to be for someone like him. Three or four (okay, or sometimes five) times a day has always felt like a lot to him, but he’s got no basis for comparison. It’s not like he can ask his mom about it, or—God forbid—Ransom. Yuck.

“Is … is that normal?” he whispers, wanting to know but mortified that he has to ask his new headmaster to find out.

Steve gives him a tender look. “Perfectly normal, Honey. Especially for someone your age.”

“Oh.”

“And do you use toys?”

Oh God. If Bucky thought he was blushing before, he was wrong. "What?" he sputters. Steve waits, eyes gleaming with interest—or at least, that’s how it seems to Bucky. He’s standing here, embarrassed and dressed in this dumbass uniform, and meanwhile this stupid alpha is enjoying himself? This is bullshit. “No,” he says tersely. “I don’t.”

“Okay. How then? Fingers? fist? surface?”

“Wh-at?”

Steve steps so close that the toes of his shoes touch Bucky’s. “How do you masturbate? Every omega is different.” Bucky’s guts are roiling before he even fully processes the question, and once he does, the feeling only gets worse. He must stand there silently for longer than he realizes, because Steve prompts him again, “You can tell me, Honey. There’s no need to be shy. Now I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Which way do you touch yourself?” 

Bucky realizes he’s breathing open-mouthed. “I – I don’t … I mean, I … um …”

Amused, Steve tilts his head. “Do you try and reach back?” he suggests. “Reach inside and try to make the ache go away with your fingers?”

Bucky makes a small choking sound, and Steve’s hand comes up to gently hold his jaw, thumb brushing over the cleft in his chin.

“Or,” he says softly, so close, “Maybe you like to straddle something, hm? Something you can hump on. A pillow, the arm of a sofa, rocking ‘til it feels good? It’s mostly the girls who do that but I’ve had some male students self-report that kind of thing.”

“I —” Bucky’s brain is short circuiting. He, he can’t, he’s gonna … something … something’s gonna …

“Or,” Steve purrs, leaning down closer to Bucky's face, “is the answer 'fist'?”

“F-fist?” Bucky’s mind goes in an obscene, unhelpful direction …

“Like jerking off. Do you try to be like the big boys and stroke your little cocklet, hm?” Steve nods minutely as he susses out Bucky's reaction. “Is that it, Sweetheart? Do you lie in bed at night and play pretend, try to jerk your little clit off like it’s a man’s cock?” 

A sound Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever made before comes out of him; something needy and sexual and distressed. “Nnnh …”

Steve hums in approval and nudges Bucky’s chin teasingly with his thumb. “That’s what I thought. Gender confused little things like you usually do. Rubbin’ on the nubbin every morning, noon and night.”

Bucky’s eyes all but bug out of his head. His breath hitches in another low whine, belly tight, and then he actually feels himself wet a little—a tiny spurt in his underwear that he can’t control any more than a sneeze. He stands there, kind of losing his mind, because he thinks that was … he thinks he might’ve just …

“W-what was the question?” he squeaks, mouth suddenly dry.  He has to fight very hard not to squirm in place or reach down to feel his underwear. Oh god, how bad is it? He tries to glance down without moving his head, but he can’t see.

Steve chuckles and plants an affectionate kiss on top of his head, before releasing his chin. “Oh, Little one. I just gave you those and you need new already?”

“... Gave?” Bucky repeats weakly. “New?”

“Your underwear.” Steve turns his nose up into the air, inhaling deeply and then looking away with a smirk. He tuts fondly. “Ah.”

Bucky blinks in horror. Steve can smell it. “Alpha,” he exhales, the word erupting up out of him like some humiliating verbal reflux. "I – I d-didn't ..."

“You’re alright.” Steve is already going over to the cabinet with the uniforms and retrieving another set of underwear. “It’s okay,” he tells Bucky kindly, likely at seeing his stunned expression. “It happens sometimes. I should’ve been more mindful of myself. Normally I find it takes the use of my Voice and a Hold to achieve wet panties.” He chuckles to himself as he rounds the desk and sits in the big leather chair. “You're very sensitive.”

“What?” Bucky feels lost, adrift, like he’s dropped a solid thirty IQ points in the last two minutes. Steve seems to know this, as he smiles gently at him and pushes the new underwear across the desk. “Put those on,” he says. “I promise to tone it down for the rest of this discussion.”

Blinking, Bucky steps over and takes the underwear in hand—mostly because it’s an action that he can comprehend and thinks he can manage at the moment. Simple. “... The rest?” he asks distractedly, as he bends to reach up under the dress’s skirt and pull down the ruined undergarments. 

“Yes.” Steve is opening a laptop and clicking around on it. “I should’ve been asking you those questions more formally. You wouldn’t have gotten so worked up, and I’d already have this jotted down by now.” He starts typing information down. “Three to four, you said?” 

“Three to four …” Bucky parrots out, then remembers: Oh, the number of orgasms he has per day. “Y-yeah,” he says shakily, swallowing around the lump in his throat and averting his eyes to the ground as he desperately tries to shake the nonsense out of his head and get a hold of himself. Great. Now his principal knows he just squirted in his underwear like some cheesy sex novel. Bucky didn’t know that could actually even happen! It’s always clearly faked in porn. Hell, he’s even faked it for the webcam a time or two. 

Face burning and the buzzy feeling between his ears fading somewhat, he bends over and steps out of the ruined underwear. When he looks down, they aren’t as wet as he’d been expecting to see. Just the tiniest little dribble there in the cup of the jock. He really did just wet in front of his principal. Christ. Gritting his teeth, Bucky grabs the new jockstrap and slides it on, then the briefs. Stupid fucking school, he fumes. When he stands up straight again and smooths out the fabric of the uniform, Steve is looking at him from over the laptop screen.

“Hey, it’s not pee, you know that, right?” he asks gently, eyes shining with a tenderness that Bucky absolutely despises. “Submissive release is fairly normal for a boy your age. It happens more than you’d think.”

Bucky shakes his head, brow furrowing. “No. I never have.”

Steve shrugs and types it into the computer. “That’s probably why it came on so easily. I’ll make a note of it. That could be something your Handler winds up working with you on. Now, when did you have your first heat? Not PHS or a proto-heat. Like the full-Monty, real thing. How old were you?”

Bucky squirms and looks around, some of his anger from before returning with his brain cells. “Why does it matter?” he grunts.

Steve tuts. “This is information we need to have in your records. You can either answer freely now, or I’ll get creative to give you a little more motivation. When did you have your first heat?”

Bucky curls his fingers, nails biting into his palms. “Fourteen,” he grits. 

Steve nods, typing into the computer. “Have they been regular?”

“Yes.”

“Do you track it?”

“Yes. On my phone.” Bucky eyes Steve's desk, where the Alpha had placed his phone after blithely informing him that he'll no longer have access to it.

Steve notices him looking but doesn't take the bait. “And how long do they typically last?”

“I dunno. Like four days I guess. Three to five.”

“Good. And when was the first day of your last heat?"

"I don't know. I'd have to check my phone."

Steve's mouth curls wryly. "Best guess then, Princess."

"Early last month," Bucky grunts, trying to remember. "I don't know. Maybe like the third or something."

"Hm. You're due soon, then."

His jaw works in frustration as he realizes that it's true: he'll probably be in heat again by next week. "Great," he mutters. "Just what I was looking forward to."

"Don't worry. We've got excellent heat support here. You're be well looked after each time you cycle."

He refuses to comment on that (even though he is kind of curious what "heat support" might consist of). "I presume a backwards place like this doesn't allow suppressants?" he snarks instead, not expecting the strong reaction it gets out Steve.

The alpha actually stops typing and looks over at him. "Absolutely not," he says. "Those medications are very harmful." Bucky rolls his eyes and Steve sits forward, concerned. "Bucky, have you taken suppressants in the past?" He stares at Bucky sternly, waiting. "Answer me."

It's his Voice—the first time he's used it since he had Bucky stripping down naked right in front of him—and it sends a shiver of pleasure through Bucky that he tries desperately hard to suppress. He can tell from Steve's expression, though, that he's not successful. "I mean ... yeah," he mumbles, feeling oddly uncomfortable when he can see that his answer upsets Steve. An apology sits on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall loose at Steve's visible displeasure. "It's not a big deal. Everybody —"

"How long?" Steve cuts him off tersely, fingers already poised back over the keyboard. "When did you start them and when did you stop?"

"I ... I don't know. Like, most of freshman and sophomore year?" Steve makes a disgusted noise in his throat and Bucky flusters, getting defensive. "Everybody takes them. It's not a big deal."

Steve is glaring at the computer screen as he types. "That's something you'll be educated on real soon, Sweetheart." He's fuming, but Bucky gets the sense that it's not at him. "So you're not taking them now?" he checks.

"... No." He'd stopped taking them last year to do a couple of "Horny Omega in Heat" type videos, and had never gotten around to starting back up with them again. Bucky chews his lip, somehow doubting that Headmaster Rogers wants to hear that. "... Are you mad?" he asks.

Steve's eyes soften as he momentarily glances over at him. "No, Honey. Not at you."

Despite everything, Bucky's cheeks color at the change in the alpha's tone. "It's not," he says meekly. "Dangerous, you know."

"That's not what the medical journals say," Steve quips. "But don't worry. I wouldn't expect you to know that, coming out of the American school system. Political agendas have colored everything they teach over there for more than a decade."

Bucky frowns, indignant. "Hey, I went to a great school."

"You went to a liberal school," Steve drawls, not even deigning to look away from the computer screen. "Where did you get the suppressants?" he asks, no-nonsense. "Who prescribed them?"

"The doctor."

"What doctor? Where?"

"The doctor at Planned Parenthood, jeez." Bucky scowls as he sees Steve's jaw tick in annoyance at hearing his answer. "What? You think Planned Parenthood's bad, too?" He scoffs. "Oh my god, you do. You're one of those. A religious nut. You're probably anti-choice, too, huh?"

Steve looks back over at him with narrowed eyes. "No, I'm not religious. And I'm not anti-choice: I'm pro-science. I'm not going to hold your ignorance against you, Little one, but if you keep mouthing off to me, I'll most certainly hold your attitude against you." He nods over to the far corner, directing Bucky's gaze to the piece of furniture tucked against the bookcase that, until now, has gone unnoticed. "Do you know what that is?" he asks, tone deathly calm.

Meanwhile, Bucky feels the blood draining out of his face (and, mortifyingly, his dick twitching inside his padded underwear). "Um ... yeah," he squeaks.

Steve doesn't crack a smile, but his eyes do seem to glimmer just a little bit. "Would you like for me to strap you down there and give you ten licks with my belt for bratting?"

Bucky shakes his head fast as an instant "no," even though his dick isn't so sure it's in agreement. "No," he says a second after, because his dick is a fickle idiot. "Uh uh."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "That's your one warning," he says. He turns back to the computer. "Was it an oral suppressant?"

"... Yes," Bucky says, watching meekly as Steve nods and types the information down.

"And I assume you don't know the name of the physician who prescribed them?"

"No."

"You've been off them for a year?"

"Yeah, almost a year."

Steve nods, not looking happy but not looking angry anymore, at least. "None of this was in your medical records," he grumbles. "Oh well. I can't exactly say I'm surprised. We'll get you in for an exam with the school nurse. Just to make sure you're okay."

"Okay?" Bucky makes a face. "Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Once again, Steve seems to almost soften with sympathy at Bucky's response. He looks over at him pityingly, like he's an earnest but slightly stupid child. "You're probably fine. But you still need to get looked at."

That still doesn't answer Bucky's question, and he's about to get annoyed and say something snippy in response, but Steve preempts it by looking pointedly over at the fucking spanking bench he's got parked in the corner. Bucky reverses course and seals his lips up tight.

"Good boy." Steve turns back to the computer screen, finding where he left off. "Okay, just a few more of these left to go. What sort of PHS symptoms do you typically get? I have a list I can read off, if you’re unsure.”

Bucky shrugs, still stuck thinking about the spanking bench and the 'Good Boy' Steve just Voiced at him. He gives up and asks what’s on the list. Steve reads it off, and Bucky nods at a few of the familiar symptoms. “Cramps for sure, and the hyperthermia. Sometimes headaches." He thinks about it, then ventures, "I get real lazy, too. Is that a thing?”

Steve's mouth twitches. “Yeah, Sweetheart. That’s typical. Have you noticed any other behavioral changes? Do you tend to eat much, or nest?”

Bucky snorts. “I eat like a pig for like, two days before. And I guess I nest ... sorta.” He’s actually not sure if the mess of blankets and throws that he’s got stashed in his closet at home counts, but he nods along anyway. "Yeah."

Steve marks it down. “Do you get any anxiety or nerves?”

“No. That’s a thing?” Bucky looks over and catches Steve smiling fondly at him in a way that makes him feel warm and tingly all over. He hurriedly looks away. “Um, anxiety about what?”

“About being around strangers or being out in public. Or sometimes it can manifest as possessiveness: you don’t like people touching your things, or you feel a little extra territorial over your room at home. Any of that?”

“Oh! Well, yeah. The ah … the thing about people touching my stuff,” Bucky admits. “And my room.” He'd almost attacked Ransom once, when the jerk had come into his room without knocking just before his heat. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I um, I do that.”

Steve hums and marks it down. “Okay. And how about when the arousal phase starts? How long does it take between when you first notice that change, to when you’re house-bound?”

Bucky cringes. “I dunno. A few hours? Not long. Usually I’ll just wake up in the morning and know I have to stay home that day.” He peeks up at Steve, whose attention is on the computer screen. “Are we almost done with this?” he complains.

“Almost. Just one last question.” Steve’s eyes come back up to bore into him. “Who helps you with your heats? Do you pair?”

Bucky tenses up, thoughts immediately flashing to his bonehead ex-boyfriend. “N-no,” he flusters. “No.” He watches Steve’s eyebrow rise.

“No?”

“I mean, my mom’ll get me snacks and stuff if I need it," he hedges.

"That's not what I mean when I say 'help'," Steve says, amused, and Bucky fights not to squirm in embarrassment.

“I just stay in my room," he mutters. "It sucks, but it is what it is.”

God, why can’t this be over already? He hates talking about this stuff. He hates remembering. Steve is still watching him carefully though, and his face heats under the scrutiny and the weight of the question he can feel coming next:

“Bucky, have you ever paired for a heat?”

He thinks about lying, because he does not want to talk about this, but the look on Steve’s face is still expectant, so he reluctantly admits, “Just … a couple times. But it was like more than a year ago! So what’s it even matter?”

“I’d like to know what sorts of experiences you’ve had,” Steve tells him gently. “To have a better understanding of your behaviors, and your needs.”

Bucky scowls. “My ‘needs’? Really?”

Steve sighs sadly. “Honey,”

“What’s there to know?!” Bucky snaps, irritated. “I had a boyfriend, we broke up.”

“But he was alpha? And you paired for your heat?”

Bucky works his jaw, mouth twisting in displeasure. “Sure, whatever. He … he stopped by a couple’a times to help me out.”

“‘Stopped by’?” Steve frowns. “What does that mean? ... Bucky, are you saying he didn’t stay with you?”

“People have stuff, okay? They can’t just stick around.”

“What?”

“He’s on the lacrosse team. They have games and stuff. Can’t miss practice, or whatever.” Bucky can feel emotion clogging his tear ducts, pressing at the backs of his eyes. He blinks quickly and looks away, grinding his teeth. “Anyways it doesn’t matter,” he repeats tersely. “We. broke. up.” Steve looking at him all concerned like this isn’t helping anything, and Bucky’s getting fed up. “Is that it?” he asks, avoiding the alpha's gaze. “Or do you want a list of all the people I’ve fucked? Because that’s gonna take a hot minute.”

For a second, he thinks he's finally mouthed off enough to earn himself a trip over the almighty spanking bench, but after a brief consideration, all he gets from Steve is a mild,

“No, Little one. Those are all my questions.”

'Little one'; Bucky's quickly learning that he dislikes that diminutive, in particular. Steve seems to use it when he's feeling sorry for him ... or something. “Good.”

Steve gets quiet. Bucky wants to look at him, but he can feel the alpha’s gaze boring into him, so instead he turns his head and stares to the side obstinately, mouth pressed into a thin line. He can hear it as Steve moves slowly; the soft sounds of his body shifting, the laptop shutting, the squeak of the leather chair as he pushes it out from the desk. Steve stands up. He stays standing still for a long minute, staring at Bucky and saying nothing. Bucky’s skin itches uncomfortably. He’s irritated, he’s got no clue what the hell Steve’s thinking, and it’s putting him on edge. “What are you doing?” he mutters.

Steve comes around the desk and into Bucky’s field of vision. He steps close, arms open like he’ll reach for him. “Buck …” 

Bucky flinches back. “What?” 

Steve pauses. “Bucky. Come here.”

He says it calmly, doesn’t even use his Voice. He sounds almost sympathetic, and that grates on Bucky’s nerves horribly. He scoffs and takes a full step back. He finally looks at Steve’s face and watches as his expression pinches. Bucky takes another step back. He’s feeling vulnerable from telling all of that personal stuff to Steve, and he’s … he’s annoyed over it, okay? He doesn’t like the way Steve’s looking at him, like he knows him. He doesn’t know shit.

“Why’d you ask all those questions?” Bucky demands, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I want to get to know you, baby. Know what’s normal for you, for your body. So I can know what your needs are.”

It’s obvious that he’s aware of how flustered this is making Bucky, and Bucky hates him for how gentle and coaxing he’s trying to be now, after he’s just spent the last twenty minutes asking such humiliating, intrusive questions. Bucky doesn’t need his goddamn kindness. “Yeah right,” he snarks, glaring at the man and his stupid concerned, bearded face. “What my heats are like? What I feel? How I touch myself?” He sneers. “You don’t care about me. You probably just want to know what to picture while you’re jacking it, tonight.”

Disappointingly, Steve barely reacts. He loses his pitying expression and returns to smirking at Bucky like he’s nothing more than an errant pup. “Why?” he counters smoothly, inching closer. “Do you like the thought of me picturing you while I touch myself?”

Bucky falters, taken aback. For some reason, he really hadn’t thought Mr. Rogers would talk like that. He thought he'd scold Bucky and avoid answering. He hadn’t thought the man would bring himself into it by even acknowledging that he does, in fact, touch himself. The shock of it brings Bucky up short, and he forgets to take another step backwards as Steve comes closer to him. His pulse picks up and his lip trembles as he struggles to answer Steve’s question:

'Do you like the thought of me picturing you while I touch myself?'

Fuck. Bucky’s mouth works, but his thoughts are jumbled, and Steve is crowding him again, and speech is not forthcoming. “I – I don’t …”

“Shhh.” Steve puts a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him. “I apologize,” he murmurs, eyes flitting all over Bucky’s face. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate of me.” He pauses as if considering something, and eventually his mouth quirks. “What I think about when I jerk off is no business of yours.” He winks. “And there will be no more jerking off for you, Young lady.”

Bucky draws back, the ‘Young lady’ hitting him like a bucket of ice water. He stammers for a moment before coming up with a response. “Y-you can’t just not let us cum,” he complains, outraged. “That’s … that’s cruel and unusual punishment. It’s unhealthy!”

“Oh I agree,” Steve says, turning back around to go and grab something from his desk. “The rule isn’t that you can’t cum at all, it’s that you can’t touch yourself. That’s why we have milking stations set up at various points throughout campus. Many of the classrooms even have a dedicated corner set aside for it.” When he turns back around, Bucky sees he’s got a long, brown strip of leather in his hands. “If you need sexual release at any time, you’re welcome to it. All you have to do is ask your Handler for assistance. Or you can grab a teacher, or myself. Any of us will be happy to help you.”

Bucky’s jaw might physically drop, he’s so surprised. “You … you will?”

Chuckling, Steve steps in close again. “Of course, silly.” He holds up the item that he’s holding: It’s a collar. “I told you we’re all about the science here, didn’t I? Nothing’s more established than an omega’s need to climax. We’d hardly expect you to go for very long without that relief. It’s a very important part of your physical health and your mental well being.” He bends down and smirks right in Bucky’s face, tapping him lightly on the tip of his nose. “Now, turn around to receive your collar, Omega.”

Bucky is so overwhelmed by all that’s happening, by Steve’s Voice and what he’s just told him, by that dirty wink and how he’s just called him ‘Omega’—like he’s Steve’s omega—that he actually obeys right away, turning around in what feels like a daze. “... Collar?” he breathes, feeling Steve reaching around his neck with the thing even as the word leaves his lips. “I – I don’t—”

“You’re fine,” Steve reassures him, drawing the strip of leather around his neck and threading the buckle in the back. He checks the fit with his fingers, then bends and places a kiss right at Bucky’s nape. “There we go. How’s that feel?”

Bucky swallows, the movement of his throat more noticeable against the collar’s gentle fit. He’s … he's inordinately warm all of a sudden, overwhelmed and yet filled with a creeping sense of contentment. He feels dazed and … and heavy, as if the room's gravity has increased or he’s suddenly got thirty more pounds weighing him into the floor. It’s that same feeling he remembers from using a weighted blanket: calming, correcting pressure. Except there is no weighted blanket. There’s nothing. Nothing but a strip of leather around his throat, and Steve.

“... No,” he whispers, mind gone a little fuzzy (why does it feel so nice?). “I don’t like it.”

Steve chuckles, the sound reverberating low in his chest. “Liar,” he whispers, kissing the shell of Bucky’s ear before standing back. “Here, turn around. Let me have a look at you.” His big hands grab Bucky’s upper arms and turn him. Bucky’s left blinking up at him with a slack expression, and Steve looks almost proud as he beams right back down. “Sweetheart,” he gushes. “You look perfect.”

Bucky’s hand comes up to touch the front of the collar, where there’s a little metal placard grommeted flat to the leather. Vacantly, he wonders if it’s his name that he feels engraved there.

This story is an ongoing commission for an amazing supporter who wishes to remain anonymous. If you have a story that you'd like to see custom written, send me a message on Tumblr or reach out on my Kofi.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

[oswlld]

oswlld's monthly wrap up: january

note: i am trying something a bit different this year, so bear with me as i figure out how i want to format this. i wanted to spend more time sharing what i consume, beyond what i rb, and put my thoughts in one place. these posts are okay to rb

--

The Fifth Season, N.K. Jemisin [started 11/03, finished 01/23] This was originally a dnf from 2023 that i decided to pick up again. My entry point into her work was The City We Became and fell in love with her voice. With Fifth Season, however, I felt like I loved parts of the story but didn’t fall in love with the sum of the whole. I will go more into why in the tags because it will touch on spoilers (mildly!) I still gave it 4⭐️ in storygraph. — The Moth Presents: All These Wonders, Catherine Burns [started 01/05, finished 01/31] I bought this collection from Half Price so long ago, I’ve forgotten what drew me in. Probably because of the Neil Gaiman foreword. I had not heard of The Moth so I went into this blind. Some of the stories made me wish I heard it live and feel the story breathe and beat with the audience. 4.25⭐️ in storygraph.

Flavorful Origins, Netflix [started: 09/28, finished 01/04] I watched s1/s2 in 2023 at various pts of the fall/winter. Finally wrapped up s3 in January and caught up. Unsure if its a complete series or ongoing, but I do hope to return to the series in the future if they do upload more seasons. This series reminds me of the YT channel Liziqi, where they take one ingredient and unravel the techniques and related dishes by region. A great palate cleanser amongst all the other shows I typically gravitate towards. — Last Twilight, GMMTV on YT [started 11/10, finished 01/26] The only show I watched in real time, as it premiered week by week. If I solely focus on the January episodes, for the sake of this post, I can’t say I was happy with the way the final act was handled. If I look back on the whole of it, it’s still really special to me. In fact, there are episodes that still stand as the very best in television, THE BEST. Still licking the wounds inflicted by the finale, though. — Moving, Hulu [started 01/08, finished 01/30] This lured me in by process of dash osmosis, which is the very best brand of entry pt. I am O B S E S S E D with this show, I am singing its praises! It soothed the scars left by the show Heroes. Amongst all the action sequences, espionage, and high school drama is this huge heart beating loud and strong. Lee Mihyun, the way I love youuuuu, the character you are 🤌🏼🤌🏼🤌🏼 Guys, she saved January for me.

Chevalier, Hulu [watched on 01/14] The short runtime (well, short for the current landscape of cinema) did give me pause. I think some of the emotional beats could have been deepened if given 20 more min of his involvement in the rebellion. I think I wanted the betrayal to really cut me to the bone, but it felt like a papercut. — BlacKkKlansman [watched on 1/31] At this point, I would follow John David Washington’s career to the very end. I love his natural charisma. I want to see him go thru alllll the situations and wish this movie gave him a lot more room to breathe. Laura Harrier took me by surprise, portraying the BSU president Patrice. The story came to a very mild end and felt very tame, but the suspense held its own.

Stick Season (We’ll All Be Here Forever), Noah Kahan [first time listening] I originally learned about him when I was in my Lizzy McAlpine hyperfixation last year and heard she was a feature in one of his songs. And then I discovered a duet Noah did with Hozier and knew I had to spend time this month to sit down and really digest his album. WHOA MAN, this is one of those formative moments when music perfectly aligns with my current state of being. Take that as you will. Current top 5: Come Over, Strawberry Wine, Northern Attitude, Halloween, Your Needs My Needs — Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 [relistening] what else is there to say, this is a mandatory yearly listen when it becomes below 0 outside. When I saw this show live, it was a January date as well so this relisten really got me spiralling. These two albums got me Feeling 🧍🏻‍♀️ on my walks.

Minecraft [game, on Switch] I got this game as a christmas gift and was where I spend most of my waking hours outside of work. I enjoyed watch MC streams on twitch and knew I would enjoy playing on my own. I get it now, I am soooooo late to this game. I think and dream Minecraft. My mountain house and harbor builds? Immaculate. They basic, but immaculate. Now I’m in my fishing era, esp when I have Stick Season playing in the background (nothing else mattered when the sun was rising and the song The View Between Villages played in the bg, it was a religious experience). — Lethal Company [game, on Twitch/YT] My entire month has been hopping from one stream to another, lobby after lobby. This game is so fun to watch and witness how all the mods evolved as time went on. I don’t think I myself would play the game myself, as I am a bit of a scaredy cat, but watching my fav groups play has been a highlight.

[annkous]

Alright demon attendant pals buckle the fuck up: lesson 11 just dropped and I was losing my mind the entire goddamn time because of s o l o m o n.

Previousy on me, losing my shit over this game: (lessons 1 to 10)

ALRIGHT LET'S GO

I can't believe Belphie came straight for our throat AGAIN (Diavolo seemed to want to stop him THANK GOD) and Lucifer was reeeally pissed off, but understandably so if we get in his shoes. Solomon rescues our ass from this bunch of demons and whisks us away. I wished we could've talked it out, but you know, bit of extra angst doesn't hurt. Especially if we get to see Thirteen BECAUSE YES SOLOMON TAKES US TO THE REAPER'S CAVE AND I WAS DYING TO SEE HER AGAIN. AND WE DO. MY GIRL.

I also thought they'd give her Reaper clothes since, well RAD soesn't exist (yet) but. Lol. My dreams were dashed. They did address the issue of why she was wearing it to excuse the lack of a new design, which made me lose my shit laughing. Okay fine, I'll drop it for now, Solmare, BUT MY GIRL DESERVES MORE CLOTHES. I WILL BE WAITING.

Also the casual drop that she has a sister named Candy. Now I wanna meet her.

Anyways I digress, I love Solomon and I said I trusted him with my life. Until now, because this fucker dropped this shit on me and I legit had to put my phone down for a couple of seconds.

Son of a bitch. You kitchen-destroyer menace. You death-chef bastard. You can't ask THIS of me. Out of ANYTHING you could've asked mc, this fucker pulled the worst one. I'm so mad because I refuse to lose trust in Solomon in Nightbringer despite this story bombs being dropped on me, but this combined with something else later in ch11 makes me want to be wary. But I also don't want to, because despite all story hints, I don't believe for a second they'd hurt mc, so I'm grabbing every bull thrown at me by the HORNS and every single one of you WILL BE SAFE by the end of this story OR SO HELP ME.

Speaking of horns. The demon bros follow us, obviously, except for Beel (who we knocked out in lesson 10), Belphie (who stayed behind with Beel obvs and also he wouldn't come to help us because he's hurt and angry and the Lilith wound is still fresh I get it Belphie I DO—but DAMN it STINGS) and Satan who already had stayed back at the House and my boy is missing this whole party. I legit yelled when I heard Mammon's scream in the Reaper's Cave.

I loved how Asmo, Levi and Mammon came to warn us that Lucifer was coming, because they're worried and I love them so much I COULD KISS THEM. I kinda wish the Mammon turned into Little. D gag didn't last for the rest of the lesson though. Asmo himself ways it makes this thing less serious. Oh well. I hope he gets turned back soon bc shit went down later and we need EXTRA HANDS ON DECK.

and finally I got the option that I wanted: that we wanted to talk to him. Or we can defer to Solomon. If my eyes keep narrowing at him I might as well close them and fall asleep. Anyways hell no, Sol dear, sorry.

So when he appears down we go. Everyone's worried sick. Solomon reminds us about siding with humanity if things go down bad and while I adore my fav sorcerer, I refuse to fight the demon brothers, so my choice was made in case they made me pick a side (and I was scared they'd make me choose lol). Anyways Solomon and Lucifer looked about ready to rip each other apart, but Lucifer held him in place and I was. Not expecting that. I thought Solomon would be able to fend him off at least a little bit, but I was wrong.

Obviously his target is us. Not Solomon. Oh boy.

I love this man so much. He's obviously wary of us because we have power over them and he sees it as a threat to his family, so I can't hold his anger against him even as he froze Solomon on the spot (not literally but, well, I bet he would have) and kinda. Tried to attack us. Oops. However, he doesn't know us, and he's doing what he thinks it's best to protect his family. I kinda get his point even if I don't agree with it, and it kinds reminds me of the Belphie situation in the og one: he's doing what he thinks is best, but he Fucks Up because we've been nothing but helpful and well, he's probably seen we've been helping his brothers. They defend you, too, but Lucifer is Not Having it for the moment.

Here has a choice that I love, if you pardon my Luci brainrot for a bit:

If we choose that one it doesn't clarify what we mean, but we gain points with him, because we know. He's hurt. Plus we have the ring, and again there's the fact that we have power over them, that they gave us, yeah, but they don't know about it. He's probably freaked out, at least a little bit.

Anyways I love Thirteen for busting our asses free and throwing us a Grimoire, which can be used to control demons, apparently, and if it was mentioned in the og I forgot about it. Oops. Well, I love that our only option is to give Luci the grimoire as a gesture of good faith because they're our demon family and just like Luci, we're doing our damn hardest to protect all of them.

If you say "I love all of you", you get points with Mammon, Asmo and Levi. If you choose that you want to protect them, you gain points with Luci instead. I need a second-

And this is when shit goes down for me because SOLOMON LOOKED SO DISAPPOINTED WHEN YOU HAND OUT THE GRIMOIRE????? And Thirteen did say he wanted it... because the Grimoire allows control over the demons. Sol is not making it easy for me here in this damn game.

(edit: also apparently it's. it's the goddamn Grimoire that's over Lilith's tomb in the og game, the one Luke finds when they go down to the Catacombs. Holy shit.)

And with the previous "siding with humanity" dialogue it's just. Alarm bells all over, non-stop. I don't know if we get different choices if we lean on Solomon too much, or if MC is following their own path in this mess so it doesn't matter what we choose before. Do we have a choice? Or MC has their own path that they will follow, which is protecting their family? Mind you, my mc's family is all of them: Demons and Purgatory Hall, so before choosing a side they'd stop this "war" from happening. I think this is what mc will choose, if it comes down to it. Perhaps this is what Nightbringer wants? But no demons/angels/humans war happened in the future where we come from, so it wouldn't make sense unless it will happen after our future time, where we can't stop it for some reason, and the only way is to send us to the past so we fix this mess before it happens.

Can you imagine? Barbatos sent us to the past because we can save everyone. I'd say Solomon followed without Barbatos knowing, but... I'm not so sure. My trust compass is going nuts, and I don't want to. I want to trust Solomon. I hope after the Grimoire thing he lets it go, because he has to know mc better than that: he has to know mc would choose their family over everything else in a heartbeat, and if there's a choice to stop this war-mess from happening, they will do it, even at their own peril. Maybe Solomon is trying to stop us from fucking dying because we'll end up choosing that option, who knows? It's an scenario that could fit. If the demon family was the cause of mc's death I think Solomon would burn down the House of Lamentation without a second thought to spare if it mean saving mc. Which is a problem.

There is an extra tidbit before the demons show up in the Reaper's Cave, where Thirteen tells us a bit more of Solomon lore, with a sprinkle of Barbatos.

I'd think Barb and Sol were working together, honestly. Even if Barbatos hates his guts now for some reason lol. If Solomon had done something grave, I think Barnatos would be way less lenient with him. As far as I can tell, he's just annoyed at the moment, so... no world-threatening betrayals, hopefully?

Back to the present with Luci and the present brothers. We give them the Grimoire, and then we fuck up.

Solomon tried to make us promise to aid humanity before, but both Thirteen and MC stopped in their tracks. Thirteen said "it's against the rules". If it's in the og, I forgot about it o(-< but by their reaction, it doesn't sound good. While doing this draft, I saw someone (edit: it was "still a morosexual help", bless them I love their om comments because I tend to ramble and miss points and reading their stuff help me keep in track of little things I missed!) say it might be because it's a bind. So, well, shit.

And we get a cliffhanger with that line as the end, because screw us, that's why. Who's responsible for these two cliffhangers in a goddamn row. I just want to fucking TALK. I started this lesson at 2:30am when I saw the notification and it's almost 6am now and the energy I gained doing this has died down.

The writing sure feels like it's gone up a notch. I'm living for it, honestly. Can't wait for Lesson 12 and see how we screwed up. If it's a bind, well, we'll roll with it lol.

aaand TO LESSON 12 WE GO

[rinneverse]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ [ ❥ ] oak's 300 follower special ! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

hello friends !! as a fun little way to celebrate 300 followers, i wanted to do a little event <3

how it'll work:

— send in an ask stating a character and then up to 3-4 letters from the prompt list below!

— i'll respond with my thoughts and perhaps even a little drabble if i'm feelin' inspired enough >:)

— i'll accept any characters from the fandoms i write for; just for ease of access, here they are again!

genshin. blue lock. tokyo revengers. jujutsu kaisen. haikyuu. chainsaw man.

— friendly reminder that my blog requires you to be 18+ to interact just for my own comfort! make sure you read over my rules/byf as well before sending anything ♡ [you can find those here!]

— you can find everything posted for this event under this tag: oakie hit 300! ☆

— that's all !!!! prompts will be listed under the cut so i dont clog up the dash<3

[ EVENT STATUS: CLOSED — DO NOT SEND IN ANY MORE ASKS !! ]

— NSFW ALPHABET !!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

if this flops i might cry btw. but we ball!!

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part one

PART II • PART III • PART IV • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 2.1k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T O N E 🎶 good girls ( john carpenter remix ), chvrches

“Why is she even here?”

“Steve!”

A loud smack cut the air in two as Robin slapped a hand against Steve’s shoulder, rendering the rest of group there in Max’s trailer silent.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest, cheeks burning under his gaze, lips twisted into a scowl and trying hard to hold back the daggers you wanted so badly to throw at him.

“She doesn’t know what the hell we’re up against! How’s she supposed to–“

“Steve, none of us knew either, cut her a break.”

“Cut her a break and then what? We all get eaten by a fucking melted people monster?”

“That’s not fair–“

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Nancy,” you cut the girl off, standing quickly from your spot on the couch.

They’d been talking like this since you showed up. Like you weren’t right there in the room with them and honestly you kind of wished you weren’t anymore.

“I need some air,” you grumbled before giving Steve a pointed glare and shouldering open the front door.

The air outside was crisp as you sat down on the front stoop. Not a cloud in the sky and sunlight washing everything in soft golden light, but it all still felt so dark. Like it was harboring thick shadows. Long, spindly, and pitch black. Waiting to wrap their twisted fingers around you.

Waiting to dig into you and squeeze tight.

Waiting to lift you twenty feet into the air and snap your bones like twigs.

Waiting to leave you for dead.

And here was Steve fucking Harrington asking what right you had to be there. Asking what purpose were you gonna serve amongst this “holier than thou” joke of an army. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Eddie had already gotten their asses handed to them by what they’d called demobats, Steve arguably needing serious medical attention, and they wanted to go back? It took everything you had to not leave right there on the spot.

Hell, maybe you should, you thought for a minute. You didn’t owe them anything, especially Steve, but you did owe it to your best friend. The one who basically had a hit out on him. The one who wouldn’t hurt a goddamn fly, but all of Hawkins had already decided he was guilty and you weren't about to leave him.

Eddie.

❝ SO SAVE YOUR BREATH, GIVE A LITTLE OF WHAT YOU HAVE LEFT – DO THEY KNOW SOMETHING I DON’T? ❞

You met him two years ago under the bleachers at the Homecoming football game. It seemed like the perfect place to smoke the joint you’d messily rolled in the car right before you’d come into the stadium and apparently you’d been right, but someone else had already laid claim to it...

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but this is kind of my spot.”

He’d been all black leather and denim. Dark curls and clove. Silver rings and chains and heavy boots and maybe you should’ve been more intimidated, but the smile lines at the corners of his mouth gave him away.

“Don’t see a sign anywhere,” you’d shot back, no hesitation. Looked over at him all skeptics and attitude and took a long drag from your joint. Blew the smoke off in his direction and it made him grin like an idiot.

“Been sellin’ weed down here for like…the last three years so–actually, yeah. What the fuck, man. Someone owes me a sign.”

...And that was it, you were a goner. Laughing mid-toke and coughing so hard you cried and it made him feel so bad he gave you a baggy for free. Eddie "the freak" Munson and you – best friends.

Skipped all the stupid dances and football games with you. Paraded around the lunch room like an idiot with you. Threw fries back at the jocks for you when they called you a loser and sat on the floor in the bathroom with you when you cried.

So fuck “King Steve” Harrington.

You had every right to be there, probably even more than he did and you were gonna tell him to his face, but—

“Can I sit?”

The sudden sound of someone else made you jump.

“Jesus, Eddie.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and sat down next to you. Gave you a sidelong glance and a small lopsided smile. “He’s really not so bad–”

“You’re joking. Right? Tell me you’re joking.”

The boy hummed, dropped his gaze down to the rings wrapped around his fingers and twisted the one on his thumb.

“He doesn’t want me here. None of them do,” you grumbled, frustration fed further by his non-answer and it pulled his eyes back up to you.

“Hey now, that’s not true–”

“Yes it is! Even Nancy looks at me like a kicked puppy.”

That pulled a laugh from him. Made him scoot closer to you and bump his shoulder into yours. “Listen, sweetheart,” the nickname made you soften, but you tried to keep your scowl in place, “We’re all in over our fuckin’ heads, hm? And Stevie boy…he’s seen some shit. He’s just trying to–”

“Just trying to what? Be a complete dickhead about it? Mission accomplished.”

Eddie sighed and roughed a hand over his face. Rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. He knew what you felt because he’d felt it too. Knew what it was like to get laughed at and mocked in the lunch room. Knew how it was supposed to be between him and the other boy. Hell, he nearly cut Harrington’s face off with a broken bottle a few days ago, but one thing was clear.

Change was possible and Steve Harrington was proof, he just wasn’t great at showing it.

“Alright. He could be less of a dick,” he conceded, propping his chin in his hand and looking at you with his big brown eyes. How could you be mad at that?

You mumbled under your breath about that not being the only thing, but fine, okay, only for you, Eds.

Reaching over he flicked at your fingers and looked at you from under his curls with a stern pinch between his brows. “He’s helping me, sweetheart. They all are. Shit, without them I’d probably be in jail already. Or in Carver’s trunk,” he tried a laugh, but it fell short at the end with the weight of his words and it made you grab at his hand and squeeze it.

“Shut up,” you chided softly, no heat behind it. The anger that had been swelling in your chest all but extinguished.

Silence settled between the two of you then, heavy and tinged at the edges with worry. With everything that was at risk and it started to gnaw at the pit of your stomach. What if you couldn’t fix it? And even if you could, this Vecna asshole was about to end the world anyway so what the hell did it matter?

How were a bunch of kids going to do anything about it?

“Ahem,” the door knocked into your back and jolted you back to earth. Pulled a gasp from you and when you looked up over your shoulder you felt your anger return ten fold. “We’re leaving, geniuses,” Steve announced, pushing at you with the door.

“Least you know you’re an idiot,” you mumbled under your breath, standing up from your spot to glare at him at eye level.

“Real cute,” Steve shouldered past you on the stoop, took the last two steps in one go and turned to face you both as he landed on the grass. “For you, Munson,” he said, throwing a mask at Eddie, “Courtesy of Mayfield.”

“What’s that for?” you couldn’t help asking as Max appeared at your side and pointed so casually – too casually – at the mask.

“Gonna steal a Winnebago. Get that on, dingus. Let’s go.”

“Nice,” Eddie grinned up at the red-headed girl and yanked the mask on over his head, “Thanks, Red.”

“Let’s go,” Steve urged, waving his hands at everyone to get out of the house and you felt your heart racing.

“Steal a Winnebago? Eddie. Fuck that–”

“Honey, I’m already a wanted man–” Eddie cut you off and readjusted the ridiculous looking mask a bit. “–c’mon,” he said, tugging at your belt loop to get with it.

“I–that doesn’t mean you can just steal–”

“We’re way past that,” Dustin chimed in, shoving past you just like everyone else, “Besides, if the world’s gonna end anyway, what’s it matter?”

Shit. The kid had a point. It was probably fine. It was just a trailer. Maybe you could give it back afterward? You needed it more than they did. Right?

“Dammit,” you grumbled under your breath, now the only one still standing around. “Wait for me!”

❝ THEY TELL ME I’M HELL-BENT ON REVENGE, I CUT MY TEETH ON WEAKER MEN, I WON’T APOLOGIZE AGAIN ❞

The first time you ran into Steve Harrington was sophomore year. In the hallway before Click’s class. You were cramming everything into your bag, but struggling with your history book when you heard it coming.

Tommy Hagan’s stupid laugh.

Your stomach sank, eyes glued on your things and trying to ignore it. He was in your science class the year before along with his ditzy girlfriend Carol and they always made sure to get a spot in the back just to make out.

“Need some help?”

When you finally looked up at him he’d stopped right in front of you, the grin on his lips sharklike as Carol smirked out from under his arm. Another boy you didn’t know was standing just behind them wearing a stupid member’s only jacket, half unzipped, and had hair that sat perfectly in place. Too perfect.

“That looks heavy, hm?” Tommy said grabbing your book, voice all saccharine sweet and sharp around the edges. Flipping through the pages he pulled a face, clicked his tongue and weighed it in his hand, then made a show of dumping it on the floor. “Whoops. Sorry!” he half-laughed and your cheeks burned.

“Bite me, Hagan,” you snapped back, bending down to grab your book, and it only made his grin grow wider.

“Ooo. She’s fiesty today, Stevie. I like it.”

And then he chimed in. Stevie. The had-to-be-douchebag that everyone called 'King Steve.'

“Probably on her period,” he said scoffing a laugh, all confidence and bravado and the look on his face was so smug. Thought he was so clever and funny and when you finally turned around it was to take the two steps up to him in one.

“Really? My period? So original.”

It made him swallow hard. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he blinked back the flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes. He took a quick glance at Tommy like he didn’t want to disappoint him and then hardened his expression. Crowded down over you and nodded.

“Explains you being such a bitch.”

And it took the air from your lungs. Stuck in your sides sharp like a knife and you felt your throat tighten as Tommy and Carol snickered, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. Not here.

“Yeah. Bet you wish you had an excuse for being such an asshole,” you cut at him and it pulled an Oh shit! out of Tommy as he doubled over laughing, Steve’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Your feet couldn’t carry you away fast enough as you shoved your book in your bag and turned to leave, but you refused to run. Refused to let them see weakness, and as Tommy yelled down the hallway after you about tampons you raised a middle finger high in the air to punctuate just how much you hated them all.

Eddie met you in the bathroom after that, the one nobody used on the other side of school, and you told him everything. He let you have the joint he had tucked behind his ear for emergencies, listened to you and told you they weren’t worth it. Especially not Steve. Because even though Tommy started it, Steve was the one who dug in. Could have left it alone but didn’t and that was what really got you.

How obvious it was he knew how shitty they were being, but went along with it anyway because he had to maintain his status. Had to uphold how ‘cool’ he was and keep the line in the sand drawn between him and ‘the freaks’ like you.

So he wouldn’t get a second chance.

And he wasn’t worth your time.

Not then and sure as hell not now.

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART ONE OF A THREE PART SERIES, PART TWO AND THREE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[weavewilled]

i enjoy how this hellsite is so broken that all my active blogs rn are in different states. my super.natural solo blog has the new dash but no options for the tabs. my super.natural multi has ALL OF IT. and then this blog is over here with the old dash and "adjustable" tabs.

f u n c t i o n a l w e b s i t e

[sapporo-division]

A-ah! Miss Kanade-san ( @kyoto-division ), over here! i-it’s me Sh-shujo Yoichi, the journalist I interview you since round 1? I j-just um......wanted to say congratulations for being this year M-m-miss Hypmic winner. I remember you’ve won s-since first and fifth round a-and......n-now you’ve got the most points again, d-doesn’t it sound crazy? I d-don’t know how the universe favors you b-but it’s like you were destined to win a-and.....a-and I’m happy for you (aww man I want to say something else but I don’t have the right words to say and I’m too nervous) of course I was paying attention to the pageant and not secretly hiding myself at the backstage, playing video games on my IPhone the whole time hahaha....*clears his throat* a-anyway um......that’s how I know. C-c-could you share your thoughts of being the w-winner? Your answers will be added t-to the newspaper especially on social media!

a-and o-o-one last thing, w-would you want to say something to the audience and e-everyone who’ve been watching the pageant at home via TV, u-um.....a-atleast from your own region?

========================================================

N-now that I’m done with M-Miss Kanade......um......this next interview is for other c-contestants who’ve lost to Miss Kanade:

@shinagawa-division @sagadivision @okinawa-division @uenodivision @minato-division03 @gion-division @saitama-division @edogawa-division @akihabara-division03 @gion-division

B-but it’s ok, you all have been putting...uh......so much work and effort with your t-talents in every round I’m order to win and.....I guess this year wasn’t your time is what I-I could say.... Even still! I still want to congratulate you for your hard work. Y-you girls um......make the best and eventful performance in the whole Japan. Ok......for this last interview, I want to hear your t-thoughts and experiences throughout each rounds and also....um....oh! how do you feel about Miss Kanade being the winner this year? Are you going to prepare yourself in taking the throne on next years pageant?

One last thing before it’s over, d-do you want to say something to the audience and everyone who’ve been watching the pageant at home via TV, a-atleast from your own region?

It is nice to meet you and congratulations to everyone who participate Miss Hypmic 2023! you girls were very pretty and amazing......ok GOODBYE *bows down politely and dashes away*

========================================================

(Phew....finally the pageant is over. Now I can give this story to my boss then I can go home, eating Cheetos while watching TV. This will be the first last pageant I’ve ever been assigned......)

[warpaiint]

⌜ @misstantabismuses ⌟ ―― B a r o n e s s - C a i t l y n . & . S i l c o ❝ "Your observing skills are as astute as ever", Silco praised Caitlyn and inclined his head in a gentle nod towards the much younger Chem-Baroness, "You are right. I am here on business. Though, not this kind of business."

He vaguely locked eyes with one of Caitlyn's girls, who had peeked into the corridor to see who had just shown up. The heterochromatic eyes spooked the poor thing so much, it squeaked and dashed back into the room. Silco didn't have a strong sex drive. He never had one to the point that he was almost sex adverse. He only ever slept with a select few people and those were all ones, he had built a strong repertoire with. Ladies in a brothel were not a part of that group. Save for maybe Babette's girls.

"I am here for the other kind of business."

Silco gave a sharp nod. As soon as Caitlyn began to head to her office, the Eye of Zaun fell in line with her and wandered beside her. His large cloak with the wine-red colour made him look even more imposing than he already did. He glided beside her like a shark through the waters on a hunt. Behind them came the steps of Ran, who was escorting him tonight. The female-presenting figure stopped by the office door, hands comfortably positioned on their hips, white jacket wound tightly around their chest, almost like a corset.

In the office, Silco's hand caught up on the backrest of a beautifully carved chair, which he dragged over towards the small table before the settee. On it lay a pile of paper, a fountain pen neatly placed beside it. Mismatched eyes took note of a small wooden box with some old, rusty gold plack stamped into its lid. Stark colours of blue, purple and white contrasted against the black in scribbles of crayon lines. They were forming hearts, sparkles and stars.

"I reckon business is booming for you, is it not?", Silco said, "You have my congratulations." He pulled out a couple of Polaroid photographs from the inside of his cloak pocket. Dropping them onto the desk for the young Chem-Baroness to inspect, Silco explained: "I am suspecting that these men are not who they claim to be. They have been sneaking around on Bridgewaltz Market and were moving very weirdly. Like they were trying to figure out a perimeter. My money is on possible undercover Enforcers. However, I rather not alarm the Sherrif of this development until I actually know what is going on. I know that espionage is actually not in your field of work, but we can all agree that most people loosen their tongues during sex. I was wondering if it were possible for you to figure a bit more out about these men for me. You'd be compensated for the trouble, of course." ❞

Caitlyn smiled tipping her head toward him. "Understandable, perhaps that business is best done in my office," Caitlyn said, a soft wave of her hand as she twisted around on her heels, and led the man up toward the officer on the second floor. Blue eyes flicked over toward the girl who near squeaked and back to a room. One of her newer girls, still learning her way around The Nightingale Song. She stepped inside, moving toward her settee, and waved her hand toward the multiple seats that he could choose to his liking. "What can I do for you?" Caitlyn questioned, leaning forward to push aside any paperwork she might have had so that the table into a neat little pile so the table was his to use.

The dress she wore glistened against the neon lights that glowed through her window, having a sort of shimmer against the black and making an iridescent glow. One of her arms was fully covered in a tight sleeve with the left side only a spaghetti strap, showing off the faded black tattoo on her shoulder, silver lines of a crescent moon, and stars against her skin. Her legs crossed as she rested her arms against her knees, and nodded. "It has, thank you," Caitlyn said as she leaned forward, letting her finely manicured fingernails brush up against the pictures. Dark red lips parted just slightly, looking over the appearance of the men. "Hmm, better to keep things quiet til the truth is known, I can value the need for a clear picture," Caitlyn said, as she looked up. "A drink of aphrodisiac pomegranate juice with a pair of slim legs loosens almost any tongue if done right, I can provide the services easily to help you find out what they are up to in detail. You'll have all the information you need," Caitlyn said, as she tapped her finger against the picture.

"I can assign one of my experience birds or would you prefer I handle this myself to keep the circle small?" It's not that Caitlyn didn't trust her deadly assassins, which she often referred to as her songbirds, but she valued the need for discretion when required. And this was something she could easily handle. "Your generosity is always appreciated, Silco. You have helped my business greatly and that is something I will not forget,"