#sorry this took me days to respond to i wanted to scribble a small thing to go with it so badly AAGHH

[squuote]

lately i have been filled with the intense need to hug stanley parable and i know you are the one person who will understand this emotion. hes such a guy. im gonna cry i love him so much

everyday i think of this and i am filled with the upmost glee i think i could feel in my entire life. give this guy a million hugs. i weep for this man every time i think of him.

[mokulule]

Take Out for Dummies - part 1

Ship: Dead on Main

“Excuse me?” Jason asked in disbelief.

“How would you describe your ideal date?” the man repeated the question calmly as if he hadn’t snuck up on Red Hood on a rooftop in the middle of the night and didn’t have two guns pointed at him by said surprised vigilante.

Jason had no idea what to think, it was absurd. Only one thing made the smallest bit of sense. After all some reporters would do anything for a story.

“Is this an interview for a gossip magazine?”

The man blinked. “No, this is for personal use only.”

Okay. That was even weirder. With that thought he holstered his guns, grabbed his grapple instead and jumped off the building. He could move his patrol elsewhere for tonight.

Oo o oO

It had been a few days, the strange encounter forgotten about as he’d quickly come across a shipment of unsanctioned drugs entering his territory; Black Mask was making moves towards Crime Alley again. Red Hood had to nip that bullshit in the bud. Just because he was more vigilante than crime lord these days didn’t mean he’d gone soft.

So, Jason had forgotten about the strange man on the rooftop and was wholly unprepared when once again he was standing on a rooftop taking a small break in his patrol and someone spoke:

“So I assume dinner is out what with the whole helmet deal, but what about chocolate?”Jason spun around heart in this throat, guns pointing towards the direction of the voice. It took a moment for him to even find him. This time he was sitting on top on the slanted roof of the stairwell.

“What the-“

“A box of chocolate could be enjoyed later, would that be a suitable gift?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“Too many things to remember off the top of my head.” The man jumped down and walked towards Jason, once more showing his absolute disregard for the guns pointing at him.

“Do you have a death wish?”

That for some reason brought a smile to his face.

Somehow, Jason was the one taking a step back despite being the one holding the guns. That at least stopped the man’s advance and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry man, I guess this whole showing up on a rooftop in the dark is kinda creepy.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just with you being you, I don’t know where else to catch you.”

Jason felt an incoming headache, and he was feeling increasingly silly pointing his guns at the man when he didn’t react to them at all.

“How about you explain who you are and what you want?”

“Oh!” He slapped his forehead as if he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “I’m Danny, and I’ve been hired to take you out.” He smiled brightly.

Jason stared in disbelief. Who in their right mind just announced they’d been hired to kill someone, to the person they intended to-

No…

It couldn’t be…

He’d been asking about dates and chocolate. He couldn’t possibly have misunderstood take out Red Hood as take out Red Hood on a date. Nobody would be that stupid…

“Why would someone hire you to take me out on a date?”

Danny, if that was his real name, shrugged. “Maybe they thought you were stressed and needed a nice evening? I don’t know. I don’t ask questions. I just do odd jobs for money, keeps the lights on, you know?”

Jason didn’t respond. He couldn’t believe this.

“And like this job pays extremely well for some reason, so like I’d like to do a good job of it hence the questions?”

Of course it payed extremely well, it was meant to be a freaking hit! Still could be of course, but then it was the oddest way to go about it that Jason had ever experienced and he’d taken out quite a few would-be assassins in his time.

Danny’s face fell at Jason’s continued non-responsiveness. He sighed. Then brought out a notepad and scribbled something down, before ripping off the paper and holding it out to Jason.

“Look,” he said, when Jason made no move to take the paper and still just kept his guns trained on him, “here’s my number if you change your mind. If you haven’t called back in three days, I’ll return my advance and tell them I can’t do it - no matter how sad I’ll be to see that money go.” He looked pained at the admission, but then looked back up at Red Hood with determination.

“Still please reconsider, Mr Hood, I promise I’ll show you a good time if you agree to a date.”He looked expectantly from his hand with the paper to Jason’s helmet. Jason sighed. Holstering his right hand gun he took the paper. It was indeed a phone number, above the number it said Danny with a little smiley face drawn after the name.

Danny’s face brightened into a smile.

“Have a good night then Mr. Hood, I hope to hear from you.” Danny walked backwards with a wave and promptly tripped on an empty bottle someone had left.

“Woah!” His arms windmilled and he only just saved himself from falling back and hitting his head by sheer luck as he caught himself in the sort of gravity defying pose that would win him most limbo games. He laughed sheepishly as he put a hand down and turned around to push himself back up.

“So that was embarrassing. Should look where I go, huh? Never know when you’ll be assaulted by littering…” his voice trailed off as he walked away. He threw a last wave over his shoulder before jumping onto the fire escape and beginning his climb down.

Jason was left standing on the rooftop, paper clutched in one hand, trying to comprehend the whole baffling conversation. Also there was a distinct curl of embarrassment that he’d actually felt threatened by the guy at one point.

Yeah, he wasn’t gonna unpack that. He put the paper in a pocket of his utility belt and took a running leap to the next rooftop.

Oo o oO

Jason could not believe he was actually doing this.

It was three days later. In the mean time he’d asked around his old enforcers if they heard about a guy named Danny who did “odd jobs” as he’d called it.

As it turned out, there was indeed an odd-job-Danny, sometimes just called odd-Danny, with an increasing reputation on the streets of Gotham for doing all sorts of jobs - everything from helping old ladies carry groceries home for pennies and a pat on the cheek to heavier lifting by the docks. When he asked one of the street kids about him, he was told he also helped look for lost pets for pretty rocks or whatever the kids had in their pockets at the time, and he could fix just about anything - which had to be an exaggeration, but then again the street kids weren’t prone to overly positive opinions about adults, so he’d certainly made quite an impression on them.

Yet despite a lot of people knowing about him, apparently nobody knew a last name or where he lived. It was a mystery.

All that to say that Jason was curious… and apparently doing this.

He looked down at his phone, where he’d already put in the number. His thumb hovered over the call button. He still could not believe he was doing this. If this was a trap he was apparently walking in.

With a sigh he pushed the button.

It rang three times before it connected.

“Hello?” A hesitant voice asked.

“Is this Danny?” “Who’s asking?”

“You ask me on a date and you already forgot, I’m hurt,” Jason deadpanned hoping he would catch on to it not being wise to mention Red Hood’s name on an unencrypted line.

“Oh! So is that a yes?” He piped up excitedly.

Urgh, why was it charming that that he sounded so genuinely excited?

“Yes.”

“Sweet. Did you consider my questions?”

“Nope,” Jason popped the p and found himself smirking, “gonna have to impress me all on your own.”

Danny huffed. “Have it your way. I’ll show you a good time, you’ll see. How does… Sunday afternoon work for you?”

“’s fine.”

“Meet you in front of the building we last met, at 2 pm? Also unless you wanna take the bus, maybe bring your bike? I don’t drive.”

Jason scoffed. Letting some stranger hired to kill him close to him on his bike was a recipe for disaster. Still he found himself answering:

“Sure.”

“Great! I’ll see you Sunday then.”

With those words the call ended.

Jason looked down at his phone. He couldn’t believe it. Jason, no, Red Hood had a date for this Sunday. A giddy feeling bubbled up in his chest and he couldn’t help laughing. Red Hood going on a date. It was fucking ridiculous.

Yet, he was kinda looking forward to it. -

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[cupcakeshakesnake]

HELLO UM-

Your little Harbour PotC AU gives me absolute life, just for the record. Even tho i am very very late, thank you for making it :D

There is a headcanon I got that wouldn't leave my brain after looking at your art, originating from that one conversation between Beckett and Jack where there were some implications about canon being everyone’s previous lives. Whether this is actually a part of your au or not, it got me thinking eheheh

Theoretically, (perhaps in an au of an au, if this headcanon contradicts your lore,) what if your au and canon were the same 'verse, just several hundred years later? And what if not everybody were on their second life?

We obviously have a sprinkling of supernatural stuff, so what if the secretly-a-goddess Calypso and immortally-cursed Davy Jones were the OGs that they were in the films? Like, Davy Jones maybe came back somehow (as per movie 5's end-credit scene lol) and took back the role of the Dutchman's Captian after Will went back to Shipwreck Cove. All is good.

He learned his lesson now and actually does his job of ferrying souls. As times changed, so did his ship, in some magical way. She's no longer a sailing ship, and he'll always miss that, but he doesn't mind all that much. His crew usually only stay for that 100 yr contract, so he's seen plenty of sailors come and go. Eventually, he even hires living mortals. Less people die at sea, so by the 20th century, Jones takes a mortal job as a fisherman (or whatever his job is in your au) as well.

Whether or not he knows about the whole reincarnation thing doesn't really matter; the day he employs a familiar man by the name of Bill Turner, he chalks it up to coincidence. Even if Bill has a son named William, well- it's been 200 years, perhaps it's just a really really big coincidence. Either way, it doesn't matter to him.

It's not until he's docked in a small, out-of-the-way harbour, and three troublemaking kids sneak onto the Dutchman that he finally realises. Bill's boy, on his own, is just a matter of coincidence. Those three, together? It's unmistakable. And as bothersome those three pirates were, so long ago, I'd like to think that he looks back on that age, on those people, with some kind of fondness.

(Until he discovers they can be the most INFURIATING little gremlins he's ever met in all his centuries. But he'll find that out later.)

Anyway I drew it :D Have my humble, scribbly offerings.

(I feel bad about running away with this, even as just a headcanon-of-an-au, please don't take this as a 'you should do this' lmao, it's just me adoring all of your content it makes my brain go brrr you are amazing thankyou!!!)

This is so lovely 😭😭😭

The idea of Calypso and Jones being the same ones from canon but just... having had a lot of time to chill down and have a second chance is so??? Imagine what Jones must be thinking looking at those kids... this is so bittersweet (but mostly sweet)

I'm sorry it took so long to respond, I wanted to write a proper reply expressing just how much I love this but couldn't get around to it. Hope you don't mind me posting this publicly; I need everyone else to see this as well.

[ch3rriewine]

Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

[madlittlecriminal]

Heeyyy, not sure if your requests are open or not... If not, no worries, feel free to ignore this, lol. But I gotta say, I absolutely adored your mk fanfics! They were just so good! And it got me thinking, you know? What if, in Steven's date episode (the one in the series), the reader showed up? Like, maybe she could be the waitress or just someone who happened to be alone at the restaurant and saw him there. What do you think would make her approach him? I don't know, maybe a sense of sympathy, or just wanting to be cool? Or maybe he's just really good-looking? Who knows! Anyway, sorry if I rambled a bit, and please forgive any mistakes in my English. It's not my first language. Once again, I LOVED your mk fanfics!

- Anon🐌

Chocolates and Wine ☾ Steven Grant × Female!Reader

your English is great, don't worry anon! :) im glad you liked my fics though! it means a lot to be honest, especially since i was hesitant at first to write for the moon boys. but you and everyone else who has liked and reblogged my work has made my days so much better :') thank you and i hope you enjoy! :) also, i ramble too, so you can ramble as much as you want!

Warnings: being stood up, the so-called date of reader has no specified gender

You glanced at your phone and sighed when you saw it was now 7:30 and your date wasn't there. 30 minutes late and not one message to you saying that they were cancelling or at least letting you know that they were running late. Honestly, you were beginning to lose hope. However, when you turned around to see a guy looking a bit sad after getting off the phone, you felt bad. Had he gone through the same thing you were?

It was kind of unfortunate really. I mean, he was handsome. Not to mention that he looked good in black, but that was beside the point. You saw he had a heart shape box with him, and you quickly knew it was chocolate. The waiter walked over to him, and you quickly decided that there was no way you were going to waste this night and let him be sad.

He looked too good to be sad anyway.

So, you did what you thought was right and quickly ran up to the table and sat down across from him. The look of shock on his face was hard to miss and you let out a breath. "Sorry I'm late! I typed the wrong address and from rushing to get here, I forgot to let you know." The waiter smiled at you while the man in front of you was frozen. "Did you order yet?" He shook his head and you smiled. "Great! Can I get a glass of red please?" The waiter nodded and looked over that the man. "And for you sir?" He nodded and looked up at the waiter. "Y-yeah, I'll take the same. Thank you." The waiter left while scribbling the drinks down on his notepad. Once he was far, you looked over at the man, his dark brown eyes meeting yours.

"Sorry if I scared you, sir. I thought it was best if I joined you." He shook his head. "No worries. I saw you waiting and I thought it was for someone. D-Did you get stood up?" You look down at menu the man had and sighed. "Unfortunately. I don't understand why people do that, y'know? Did you get stood up too or did they have the decency to reschedule?" You scanned the menu before deciding what you wanted before passing it back to him. He took it and embarrassment was written on his face. "I got the days mixed up. Thought today was Friday when it's actually Sunday."

"Yeah, it happens. Especially when time goes by quickly, you lose track of days, right?" Something was written on his face as the waiter came back with the wine before putting it down and asking if you were ready to order. You and the stranger placed your orders and he walked away. "You could say that. Sorry, I'm Steven...with a v." You raised your brow with a small smile as you looked at him. "Nice to meet you Steven with a v. I'm (Y/N)." His embarrassment quickly faded, and a small smile crept on his face. "This date of yours, did he bail because he was nervous?" You shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Tried contacting them and they never responded, so I gave up and came to your table."

"Out of pity?" You took a sip of your wine. "Honestly? Maybe a bit, but I figured I would take my chances. You seemed decent enough to talk to." He chuckled. "Thank you...I think?" You smiled. "Plus, it was a bonus for me since you definitely are cuter than who my date was." He raised a brow. "A man?" You shrugged. "Male, female, gender neutral, doesn't matter. You're really handsome, Steven." He looked down at his hands and you tilt your head to the side. Did he not get compliments? Surely a man this handsome got compliments daily, right?

He gave you a shy smile. "I'm not used to flattery, so I'm sorry." You grinned. "It's fine," your waiter returned with the food and you both began indulging on the food, having a nice conversation. You found out he was an Egyptian mythology buff and you thought it was cute. He told you about how he wanted to be a tour guide for the museum he worked at, but his boss was, and you'd quote "a complete twat" which made you snort. You told him about your career and your different interests as well, causing him to look at you with so much focus that you honestly became nervous.

However, as quickly as this whole thing started, it came to an end; he paid and you gave the tip since he refused to split the bill, insisting that you did so much for him, the least he could've done was pay for your food as well. As you both began to leave, you traded numbers, agreeing to hang out again soon. He then looked at the chocolate box that was now under his arm and turned to you. "Do you like chocolate?" You were shocked by his response and nodded. He handed you the box of chocolates with a smile. "There you go, love. Enjoy, yeah? You did a lot for me today and it was great. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Steven. Do you need a ride?" He hesitated for a second before nodding. "Yeah, alright." With that, you gave him your phone so he could put his address in it and got into your car. Honestly, you were glad your date stood you up or else you wouldn't have met Steven. After Steven handed your phone back to you, you send the person a text saying that you wished them the best, but you were no longer interested in them. You deleted their number and went back to your navigation app and began taking Steven home.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy Prologue

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You find a new therapist who is more than willing to help you overcome your fears.

Warnings | 18+, talks about fear of being raped, talks about fear of being pregnant and giving birth, pretty much just a content warning for their conversation, the real bad stuff is in pt. 1

Words | 700

Notes | You don’t technically have to read this chapter, it just provides some more background for part 1.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You anxiously sat down on the small couch, picking at your cuticles as you waited. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, giving you a calming smile. 

“A little. Sorry, I’ve never done this before.” 

“It’s completely normal to be nervous during the first session, especially if you’ve never done anything like this before.” That calmed your nerves a little. “Let’s start simple. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.” 

“Um… The fears that I have are getting a little out of control and affecting my everyday life, so I was hoping you could help me get over them. At least a little bit.” 

“Knowing you need help and taking the initiative to seek that help is already a really good start.” You gave him a shy smile at the praise, not sure how to respond. “Since this is a consultation, I’d like to know what fears you need help overcoming so I can figure out the best treatment for you. Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, of course. There are two main ones. Um… being- being raped and being pregnant or giving birth.” He scribbled quickly as you spoke and you waited anxiously for him to respond. 

“I want to better understand you. Is it alright if I ask some questions?” He asked, crossing his hands and resting them on the notebook in his lap. 

“Yes.” 

“Is there any past trauma that might’ve caused these fears?” You shook your head. “Let’s just focus on the first one for now. What do you think might be the cause?” 

“I guess just knowing how common it is? I feel like I’m living every single day just waiting to become part of the statistic.” 

“That must be pretty debilitating feeling that way. Is that stopping you from doing a lot of the things your peers do?” You just nodded in response. “And what about the other one? How is that affecting your everyday life?” 

“Um…” You bit your lip as your cheeks grew warm, realizing what you would have to explain to answer his question. “It’s- I don’t…” Looking away from him, you swallowed thickly. 

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. I’m here to help you, but you have to help me understand before I can do that.” You nodded in agreement, trying to force yourself to just say it. 

“I'm on birth control, but I still don’t feel like I can rely on that completely. And when boyfriends or whatever find out, they usually want to- to…”

“Not use a condom?” 

“Yes.” 

“But you don’t feel safe doing that?” You shook your head as you bit your bottom lip. “So it’s affecting your relationships. Is it affecting you individually as well?” 

“Well I mean, I… want to do that with them too.” 

“You have a breeding kink?” You stared at him with wide eyes, floundering for a response. He was unfazed by the inappropriate question though. 

“I wasn’t going to say it like that, but yeah.” 

“Kinks can often be coping mechanisms. Do you have any other that could be related?” 

“…Cnc?”  

“Is it easier to partake in that one because there’s no real risk?” 

“Yeah I guess so.” This time when he started writing, he took a little longer than the past few times. When he finally looked back up, he gave you a small smile. 

“I think I’m going to be able to help you, I already have a few treatments in mind. Thank you for being so open with me, I know it’s not easy talking about something so personal.” You nodded, not sure what to say. “We can start regular therapy but in the meantime I can prescribe you some medication for the anxiety.”

“Oh I don’t- I don’t know if I want to take medication.” He passed the pen over the paper in one stroke, striking something out. 

“The old fashion way then.” He smiled and you chuckled awkwardly, wondering if you messed up by saying that. It didn’t seem like you did? Maybe you should just agree since he thinks it’ll help? He cut off your over thinking before you had the chance to say you changed your mind. “Do you think once a week will be a good start?” 

“That sounds perfect.” 

Part 1

[danicloth]

Hello! My name is Moriah and I am a junior in high school. I was wondering if I might be able to get your insight on a few questions I have?

I am in my final years of high school and am starting to think about college but I have no idea what I want to pursue. I know I love art, so for a long time I have been thinking about getting an art major or going to an art school.

I’m reaching out because I ABSOLUTELY LOVE YOUR ART and I think you are a very talented artist! I have been in love with your art for so long and I am curious and wondering how you are able to fit drawing into your life?

1.) Do you think going to school for art or having an art major is worth it? What was it like?

2.) how can I fit art into my everyday life? I’m sure you have work and other things to do in your life so how do you balance it out? (I just want to know how you can draw as much as you do!)

3.) do you do art as a hobby or a career? If it is a hobby how to you balance work, art, and home life? If it is a career or part-time career is it an alright source of income?

Thank you so much! And sorry if these questions might seem personal. I just want to know how other artist manage to draw and create their work and still have an adult life. Thanks again, and thank you for being a huge inspiration in my life to create the art I love! Your art means so much to me!❤️❤️ ❤️

Hi Moriah!! How have you been? :D✨ I'm so sorry it took me sooooo long to respond. I've been busy like crazy 😩 but I'll try to be as honest as possible and make it understandable too, ‘cause, you know, my english sometimes fails me jaja

1. In my case it was 💜, being able to study the things I love made it much easier for me to finish my degree and know what I want to do now, and although I know that now we are in a time in which you can learn many things just by watching videos or tutorials (especially related to drawing), I still believe that if you want that, you like it and you know you can be good at it, do it ✨, it is better to be happy doing what you like than to be stuck in something you don't, although I would recommend having a idea WHAT you want to study, maybe animation, character design, graphic design, etc. That will create a clearer vision of where you want to go. You can ask yourself, of everything you do, what do you like the most?

2. Personally, I am a very organized person >w<, not to the point of writing down everything I do or have to do in the day, but having an idea of the things I should do helps me a lot, since there are things that I obviously cannot skip, such as work, that takes up a lot of my time, so every time I can I start drawing, even if it's just a small doodle, it's well known that if you want to improve you have to practice and you don't know how much just scribbling helps you 0m0, much of which I know I learned by trying and trying and trying just by drawing silly things in my notebooks, but of course drawing all day is not healthy either. For example, if I get tired I take breaks, maybe to eat a snack, go out with my friends or play with my pet, like that you balance your routine a little, doing your responsibilities but improving along the way and without getting tired.

3. Right now only as a hobby jaja, this year I would like to look for a job related to animation so I couldn't help you as much in that aspect, but I can tell you that nowadays you should have two or more sources of income, even if you have a permanent job in something related to art, have another one just in case or if you have a hobby you can also take advantage of it, like me for example, making commissions you could say that it is my hobby and I am taking advantage of it, but as I mentioned before, organizing yourself will help you. It helps a lot in what you want to do, where you want to go and even your life ✨

I feel very honored that you asked me 🥹✨, don't worry, I am also very new to being a functional adult on my own xD but I am happy to know that you can have that trust with me 💜, I hope that some of my answers have helped you ^w^ I send you a big hug 🫂✨

[izzielizzie]

Izzie’s One of Us is Back Celebration (Day 3)

missing moments: addy’s first day at café contigo

story under the cut

My first day at Café Contigo is filled with rushing between tables, scribbling out orders, refilling endless glasses of water, and figuring out the best way to hold trays so they don't topple over onto people. "I'm sorry, it's my first day," I have to keep mumbling to people every time I slip up, which happens a lot. 

It feels like we'll never close, and when we finally do I drop into a chair in the dining room and watch Luis lock the front door. He and I are in charge of closing and clean-up. He turns around, catches sight of me at the table, and heads my way. 

"How was today?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I didn't spill anything," I tell him after mulling over the question for a moment.

He laughs. "Low bar, but I'll take it, Prentiss." I laugh too, despite my exhaustion.

"Thank you again for hiring me." 

Instantly the tone shifts and Luis's face turns serious. He props his head on his hand. "You have to thank Pa for that. And anyway," he adds, "it was the least I could do after... everything."

Everything seems too small a word for all that I've been ignoring lately. I've finally gotten over the anger I held towards Simon and I'm slowly over Jake too. But I'm not over being mad at myself. 

"You didn't do anything, though."

Luis nods as if I've proven a point. "Exactly! I didn't do anything. I never stuck up for you when Jake was being a shitty boyfriend. I didn't tell Olivia to shut up whenever she gossiped about you. And then I dated Keely! Your best friend!" 

Well, when he puts it like that he was kind of complacent during the whole investigation. But then again most people were.

"You were there for Coop when he needed you, though."

Luis shakes his head. "No, Nate was. All I did was not make it worse."

"Trust me, that meant a lot. And anyway, we went to prom together."

Luis smiles. "True. We did. I just wish there was more I could do."

"I felt that," I tell him honestly. 

Luis frowns. "What do you mean?"

I shrug and look around at the room, with its bright wall, tin roof, and cozy tables as I try to find the right words. "I spent so much of my life trying to make myself exactly what Jake wanted in a girlfriend, even if it wasn't what I wanted. I fully believed that I needed a guy in my life, and now that I'm single I feel like I'm not staying true to who I was. And my mom is angry at me because she thinks I've let the best thing that's ever happened to me slip through my fingers or whatever. And now I'm not even going to college. I'm just staying home for a year and it feels like I'm falling behind all of the time." I'm shocked at how bitter I sound. But — to my eternal happiness — I'm not crying.

Luis waits for a moment before responding. "Obviously, I've never gone through what you've gone through, Addy," he says gently. "But if I had, and I came out the other end with the life you have right now, I'd be really proud of myself."

I give him a look. 

"No, Ads, I mean it. You took an awful experience and you grew from it. Of course you feel like you're different, because you are. You learned what was working for you, and what wasn't. And you changed the things that weren't working. I'm really proud of you, and I know that your friends are too. Who cares if you're not going to college now? You're eighteen. You got yourself out of a really bad place and now you're taking a moment for yourself." Luis sits up. "It's like in track, right? You can't go from one race right to the next. You'll burn out. You take breaks to rest, right? So what's wrong with taking a break in life?"

I stare at the menu on the wall, letting Luis's words wash over me. I guess I never thought that I could just... exist without having to do big things. Maybe just working at Contigo is enough right now. Maybe I'm enough right now. And at every other point in my life.

I look over at Luis, and he's grinning like he knows that he's gotten through to me. To my surprise — and his too — I lean forward and hug him. He hugs me back tightly before breaking away. "Okay, no more wallowing. Ready to clean?"

"Ugh," I say. I'd forgotten about that.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Luis stands and heads towards the swinging doors that lead to the kitchen.

"I highly doubt that!" I call after him. He just grins at me over his shoulder.

[carolmunson]

peanut butter vibe. (steve harrington x thick!reader)

fulfilling my own request for mean!hot!thick!reader and hot!rich!wealthy!corporate!steve harrington who is not so secretly in love with you. takes place in 1996 - reader and steve are 29 turning 30

word count: 10.2K

warnings: 18+ minors dni, f!reader, smut smut smut smut, there is smut everywere in this. from flashback smut to actual smut, they've BEEN fucking. mild daddy kink, face sitting, face riding, unprotected p in v sex, fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving), references to shower sex. body type mention, very little body insecurity mention, reference to an ex boyfriend saying reader was 'too big' for something but it's not like -- something that they take into consideration. dirty talk, pet names (honey, baby, 'good girl' etc.), mild choking, steve is so bitchy but also so soft in this i hate him.

"Hi Stevie, it's me. I'm uh, I'm back a little early, Carly's having her baby soon -- I know it was a little weird last time with Andy being with me. We um, we broke up so he's not here this time. It wasn't like a big blow out or anything but -- why am I talking about this on your answering machine? Sorry. I'll be at Porter's tonight around 6 if you wanted to meet me there? It'd be cool to see you, I guess. -sigh- It's hard to bully you when you aren't responding. Anyway, bye -- I know you'll be there at 5:57 because you can't wait to see me."

Steve let out a sigh while the answering machine closed out with a beep, the robotic voice announcing 'End of Messages'. He took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, tossing a look at the clock on the wall across from him. It was almost quitting time, and Porter's was only a twenty minute drive away from the office. Part of him selfishly didn't want to show up, or maybe show up a little late to make you sweat since you'd forced him to meet your boyfriend last time. Well, ex boyfriend now.

You and Steve weren't friends in high school. He was busy being King Steve, basketball playing jock covered in ladies and popular people. You were busy in drama club and creative writing in the library, protecting your friends from people like Steve. Sure you knew each other, you graduated in the same year, had a couple of classes together -- but neither of you were very interested in offering each other the time of day. Two incredibly different ships passing in the night.

You weren't Steve's type in high school, either. Steve was always caught with what you'd describe as 'pretty little things'. Girls with waists he could wrap his hands around, thin and toned thighs, girls with a little jiggle where it mattered the most and none where it didn't. The girl's wearing bikini's to his house parties when the pool was open. Maybe if you had looked like that, you would've known Steve in high school -- but then again, he wasn't really the kind of guy you were trying to hail down in Hawkins.

When you weren't getting finger blasted backstage by Eddie 'The Freak' Munson when he got to the theater too early for Hellfire Club, you were making eyes at college freshman at the coffee shop you worked at. Something about slightly older men, y'know? A little mature, a little more sure of themselves. Pouring over books and scribbling in their notebooks behind their frames, staying until close to finish a paper or study for an exam. You had one or two wrapped around your finger your senior year before you left to go to school in Chicago. After Chicago it was New York -- working in marketing for a cosmetics line.

You'd come back to Hawkins every year for the holidays, but one year when your grandfather passed away you ended up at Porter's after the funeral. You were 24 and heartbroken, nursing a glass of red wine, looking out of place in your Manhattan clothes in the cozy small town bar.

You were alone at the stools until Steve Harrington came through the door, suit jacket slung over his shoulder and tie loosened over his button down. He nodded at the bar tender who instinctively poured him a whiskey before he even made it to the barstool two over from you.

"Rough day, Harrington?" he asked, sliding the drink down to him.

"You wouldn't believe, Paul," he shook his head, carding his fingers through his hair. He rested his chin on one hand, propped up on his elbow, catching your movement in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and looked over at you, a endearing smile lighting up his tired face -- that Harrington charm.

"What about you? Rough day?" he asked. At first you didn't realize he was talking to you, looking down into your wine and listening to the drone of whatever sports game was on the TV. You were brought back to earth when a soft 'hey' came from his direction.

"Me? Oh, yeah. My grandpa's funeral," you said with a scrunched face, shrugging, "Sort of a huge downer."

"Oh, wow," Steve said, turning his full body towards you on the stool, "Sorry for your loss -- that's -- yeah that beats my day. Sorry about that."

You murmur a thank you and go back to your wine, hearing him shift in his seat.

"You look really familiar," he says gently, scanning your face.

"We went to high school together," you say with a smile after a sip of your Malbec, "Class of '85."

"Hawkins High? You sure?," his voice gets a little syrupy, "I think I'd remember you."

"I was in drama -- wasn't really your type," you say with a smart head tilt. It didn't bother you that you hadn't been. The same way it didn't bother you that you might've been his type now.

You spent three hours together talking at the bar, exchanging stories about high school and your years out of it. He told you how he just started on the sales team for some big insurance company and felt so out of his depth but at least he got to wear a suit. You told him about your dingy apartment in the Lower East Side and how you missed driving all the time.

You spent another hour fucking in his BMW, riding him in the back seat tucked in a dark corner of the Porter's empty parking lot. Your skirt pushed up over your hips.

"Fuck," Steve grunted through gritted teeth, splayed out in the center of the back seat, his legs as far out as that could go, "Y'feel so fucking good. So fucking good on top of me."

You whimpered in response, the curve of his cock hitting your spongey, sensitive g-spot with every bounce. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as his hands moved smoothly over your thighs, finger tips digging into your fleshy hips when he got your reflection in the rear view mirror. Rear view, indeed. He let his eyes rest on the reverberation of your ass coming down on his hips and big legs with each shove down on his cock. The wet smack! of is crotch hitting against your soaked pussy making him want to fuck you even harder. He kneaded your body in his hands, grabbing handfuls of you as he got to your backside, humming while he felt it shake just out of his grasp.

You yelped when his warm palm cracked down on it, an angry sting running through your lower body. You couldn't help but tighten around him, slick dripping over him between your legs.

"Hm, you like that? You like when I smack that fucking ass?" he asked, holding your hips down so he could buck into you with a faster speed. Groaning while he pumped with vigor, you hear another hard crack on your ass resounding in the backseat before you feel the burn of it. Your whines made his cock twitch, slowing down to feel your hips grinding desperately against him for more friction. You slapped your palms gently against his clothed chest, pouting as you shimmied for more of his assault against your aching cunt.

“You love this cock, huh? Look at you, so fuckin' needy for it,” he gloated while your eyes narrowed in on him. Oh no, you weren't about to give Steve Harrington the satisfaction of telling him how fucking amazing his dick felt plowing into you. You weren't about to admit that all the things girls would say about him in high school were true. You reached for his jaw, holding it tight in your hand to look down at him while his hips slowed to a stop. He looked up at you, his eyes a little glassy, his grip loosening on your hips.

“Shut - your mouth,” you hissed down at him. He flushes, a smirk slips onto his lips as he leans back, putting his hands behind his head, his elbows splayed out next to him.

"Yes ma'am," he says with a soft raise to his eyebrows.

"If you'd like," he starts, taking his glasses off and tucking them into his breast pocket. He looks unbothered by your act of dominance while he runs a hand through his hair and leans forward to close the gap between you. His hands digging firmly into your ass to keep you balanced on his thighs.

His lips ghost yours while he speaks low and huskily, "I can take you back to mine and show you all the other ways I know how to use it."

He ate your pussy with the lights on and gave you his number before driving you back to your place.

'I like talking to you,' he shrugged, 'Call me whenever.'

And so began a so far, five year friendship -- you'd have long phone calls every few weeks or months when your busy schedules allowed. Staying updated on each other: how work was going, what bad dates you both had been on, what hijinks you'd been getting into with friends. Promotions, birthdays, hardships. It was nice to have a friend from home, someone who sort of knew the people you knew before you left. Nice to gossip a little, nice to laugh with each other.

Every time you came back to Hawkins, you'd meet up at Porter's for a drink. Have a real talk like you did the first night you got to know each other and then somehow, for some reason, you'd end up back at his place.

"What'd I say? Right on time, Harrington," you call out when he comes through the door. Steve groans, looking at his watch -- 5:57 on the dot. He'd had a long day, he was tired, and for a moment the sound of your voice made him grit his teeth.

You watch him check his watch and his smile tightens. He looks good -- suit much more refined from when you first really met him five years ago. Tailored, in a color that compliments his skin, his tie perfectly kept to his chest with what you assume was a pricey tie clip, shoes shined. He'd fit in great on Wall Street if he'd just get a fucking hair cut.

The way he walks towards you holds a different confidence than it had in the last year and a half when you were with Andy. Though it was clear he didn't particularly like Andy, he was perfectly pleasant -- able to slip right into a cadence of faux friendship you only wished Andy could've done. You once him over a second time as he sits in the stool next to you, his cologne was new, but expected. It felt like every man you knew was wearing Aqua di Gio.

"I know you're always so desperate to impress me but I gotta say, you look a little overdressed for Porter's. Were you nervous or something?" you ask sweetly, sipping on your red wine. You slide a whiskey double infront of him and he looks down at it, a frustrated smile breaks against his face. He bites the tip of his tongue between his teeth, shaking his head -- his hair moves with him.

"Looks like you didn't bother getting dressed up for me at all," he bites back, "C'mon, Manhattan -- a Hawkins High sweatshirt?"

Manhattan -- his favorite nick name when you got too big for your britches. A little too snobby for his liking, which was funny coming from a man with more designer clothing than you could dream to afford.

You looked down at yourself, you'd stolen the sweatshirt from your little sister -- your original one too battered and stained to see the light of day again. Sure, maybe your light wash bootcut jeans weren't screaming high fashion but your black square toed boots were cute! You swore you looked good before you left, but suddenly you weren't sure. You'd fallen off dressing 'nice' when you were home, it just wasn't worth it.

"Okay, mean," you spit, not giving off offense -- but not hiding it either.

"I like the boots, though," he shrugs, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The golden brown of the whiskey matched his eyes, they seemed to soften as the liquid met his mouth.

"Top shelf?" Steve's teeth are bright and straight in his smile while he sets the glass down.

"Do I ever disappoint?" you ask, crossing your legs. He burns pink at the question.

"Never," he's earnest in his response, finally making full eye contact with you, "You staying through the holidays?"

"Just for a few days, then heading back to wrap up Q4, I'll be back on the 23rd like always," you say. He nods and stands up, scooting his bar stool closer to yours -- just enough that your knees brushed. He leans forward, acting like it's too loud to hear you but the bar is only half full. You lean forward too, resting your chin on your hand, elbow drilling into your crossed thighs.

"And how's Carly?" he asks, you can see the delicate five o'clock shadow peeking through on his chin and neck. His lips full and wet with whiskey, he slides his tongue over them slowly to collect the flavor.

"So over being pregnant," you roll your eyes over your older sister's dramatics, "But you know -- she's excited. I'm excited, too! I get to live out my dreams of being the mysterious, hot, rich aunt."

"So, what -- Andy didn't want to be the rich uncle?" he asks, you note that he drops 'mysterious' and 'hot'. The mention of Andy stings a little and your eyes droop down to your wine.

"Sorry," he says, his comforting hand falling on your knee, "I'm sorry."

He squeezes your knee when you don't look up at his apology, a beat passes while you contemplate saying something mean -- but it's a little nice to see him feel apologetic.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, his thumb soothingly running back and forth over your thigh as his hand moves further up. Steve frowns at your disappointed face, he hated crossing the line by accident.

You shake your head no, tilting your head back up, "Let's wait on that. I wanna hear about that big promotion you got -- we haven't really gotten to talk about it."

Steve got promoted to Director of Sales six months ago and it was kicking his ass way less than his previous management position. What was most exhausting was how incompetent everyone was.

"Well, you were kind of too busy --" he started, but quickly shook his head out of the bit, "It's fine, it's a lot of work -- god, no one ever knows what they're doing. A lot of directing going into this director of sales thing."

"Aww, my little scumbag -- running the insurance show," you coo, "You should do car sales next, so sleazy, you'll fit right in."

"You're somethin' else, tonight," he laughs, taking his hand off your leg, "And are you any better? Working for a company that tells women they're ugly so they'll buy all your shit? How's it going at L'Oreal anyway?"

You sigh and roll yours eyes, "More like L'Ore-hell. I just transferred into the marketing team from customer insights and it's somehow -- boring? I already know the answers to all of the problems they come up with. It's like they don't know who their customer base is."

Steve's eyes sparkle while you continue to rant about ROIs and think tanks, he loves when you talk about how much you hate your job. You get so passionate, you talk so fast he can barely keep up.

"I wish I could check your blood pressue right now," he jokes, it's the kind of joke adults make. Sometimes it feels like you're both playing the parts of adults at these bar hang outs -- two kids in their parent's clothes on barstools, just giggling.

"When I went to the doctor they had to check it twice because I was talking about work when they checked it the first time -- that's how stressed out it makes me," you huff.

"Sorry, I just made that all about me, can you please let me more about your director job -- are you at least happy about the promotion?" you ask.

You miss his hand on your leg but it's probably just the wine talking. Paul comes over to replenish the glass without asking, you and Steve were both two drinks and go kind of people (sometimes you'd sneak a third if he wasn't paying attention).

"I mean, sure -- I'm a step away from getting into a chair position. I'm making more money than I know what to do with. My dad is thrilled for the first time ever," he explains, always so expressive but you catch him nervously swipe through his hair, "But -- fuck...y'know?"

"I don't know," you laugh into your glass, "What do you mean, 'fuck'?"

"I'm gonna be thirty next year and like, what do I have to show for it other than --"

"Other than being a wealthy hometown high school basketball super star, swimming in pussy, who got a cushy office job two years after graduating because your daddy was tired of seeing you work at Family Video, and now is the director of sales at a big wig insurance company after only what -- seven years in the company? And wears designer suits and is still swimming in pussy?" you say in one breath. He sighs at you and leans his head into his hand, elbow resting on the bar.

"Sure -- I guess," he smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"What more do you want, Steve?" you ask with a shrug, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here."

"I don't know," he shrugs, "I mean look at you -- every time you come back you have a new story to tell me, something exciting that happened to you. I have -- pfft -- 'They hired a new secretary! Here's the gossip about other people in Hawkins I learned from my mom! I'm still sort of a loser!"

"I mean sure, yeah, you're a loser," you agree, "But not, y'know, not like -- in the bad way."

He tosses you a look but you smile back at it, making him smile back at you. This time it's genuine, you figure the whiskey is helping. Steve sits back up to full height and leans back in his bar stool, knees splaying out. If he took his suit jacket off you'd swear he'd look like one of those 1950's husbands whose a little annoyed that dinner isn't ready yet -- your thighs press tight together.

"I think you sound bored," you suggest, "Like you need something different."

He drums his fingers on the bar, staring at them while he speaks, "I have some options I've been thinking about, but I don't know. Don't wanna make a fool of myself if it doesn't work out."

"Don't wait too long," you say with a shrug, "Another ten years will fly by like that." You snap your fingers for emphasis.

"What happened with Andy?" he presses, sipping his whiskey to down the rest and putting the empty glass on the table.

You 'ugh' under your breath and take a big sip of wine before you feel him tug at the end of the stem, "Sloooow down. Don't wanna to have to carry you out of here."

"You couldn't carry me, Harrington," you say flatly.

"We both know that I can carry you, but okay," he says with a quirked brow, unimpressed with your attitude. The memory of him hoisting you up against the shower tile in his bathroom with your fleshy thighs wrapped tight around him flashes through your mind. Hot breath and hot water running all over you while he grunted into your ear with each desperate thrust. Steve notices your cheeks heat up -- he knows what you're thinking about, because he is too. A satisfied smile settles onto his lips.

"Alright, settle down," you say, pushing your glass a little away from you towards Steve while his next whiskey arrives. You aren't sure if you're talking to him or to yourself.

"I just..." you breathe out of your nose, "It wasn't working out. I was tired of taking care of him."

"Oh, you broke up with him?" Steve confirms.

"Yeah," you sit back a bit, furrowing your brow, "Did you think he broke up with me?"

"I don't know, you seemed really sad about it!" Steve says, his hands outstretched, "I thought he left you."

"He didn't," you say, "I left, but it's still a bummer. Thought maybe he could've been it, y'know? But, thinking back it would've been -- I don't know -- it wasn't going to happen."

"He didn't want to get married?" he asked, a little surprised.

"I don't think that was in his five year plan, he barely took me out to dinner," you complained, "I was paying for everything 'cause I had a better job."

Steve crossed his arms while you talked, frowning while you continued to ramble about Andy and the break up.

"I just felt like I was putting a lot of effort into him, and I wasn't getting anything in return," you shrug, "And like, that's okay. I'm so used to doing that but...I don't know, I think I just would like for someone to take care of me for a change."

You pause, considering what you said and shake your head, "That sounds so selfish, oh my god."

"I don't think it sounds selfish at all," Steve shakes his head, "I think you're sort of asking for the bare minimum -- I mean fuck, he didn't take you out to dinner? I've taken you out to dinner and you've never even been my..."

You're both quiet for a beat while he trails off, neither of you looking at each other. You reach for your wine and he moves the glass away just as your fingers graze the stem. You lift your butt of the stool and pluck it out of his hand, taking another - smaller - sip. He looks at you like a disappointed father.

"Maybe I wanted to try it? Ugh, you're right Manhattan, you're so selfish," Steve teased.

"You don't like Malbec, Stevie," you swirl the booze in your glass, "That's why I order it."

Steve knows that's why you order Malbec, that's why he kept ordering whiskey -- you don't like it, but he'll know you're getting a little drunk if you ask for a sip of his drink. That's when he knows it's time to take you home, he'd sleep with you another night. He doesn't want you to get too drunk tonight, something about your flushed cheeks. The way you look in those boot cut jeans -- especially when you excused yourself to the bathroom and he could watch you walk away. Whew.

Steve waits for the door to close behind you to hail down Paul to get the check.

"She's gonna get pissy that you're covering it," Paul said while passing him the bill for your drinks, "She told me not to let you pay when she got here."

"Paul -- What's she gonna do? Kill me?" he gestures his hand out while using the other to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a few bills, including a generous tip, and passes them to Paul indiscreetly.

"Steve -- come on!" He winces at your voice, "I told you last time I had it next!"

"My hand slipped -- suddenly the money just appeared in Paul's register, there was nothing I could do," Steve held his hands up.

"Paul!" you call down the bar, but the yell turns into a laugh, "You promised you wouldn't let him pay!"

"He threatened me within an inch of my life. Had to let the man do what he wants," Paul said, putting the cash in the register. You settle back into your stool and cross your legs again, smoothing your damp hands on your jeans.

"I'm gonna kill you, Harrington," you mutter to your knees.

"I feel like 'thank you' would've been a much nicer thing to say," he's always so cool when he talks. You envy how easy it is for him to be charming, to turn it on quickly. Sometimes he makes you feel nervous and seventeen again, even though you've done this so many times before. He looks at you over the whiskey glass while he sips it, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Neither of you have to say anything to know what happens after his finishes his drink.

When you left, he reached for your hand when the door to Porter's closed behind you. You didn't need the support, the parking lot wasn't icy or snow covered, you weren't drunk -- but you let his fingers lace with yours. He guides you deliberately to his car -- of course it's new -- a dark green Porsche 911. What a tool.

"You like my new toy?" he asked. It was easily the most expensive car you'd seen in Indiana.

"Steven," you're a little exasperated -- sometimes he was such a poor little rich boy, "Why?"

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

You let go of his hand to walk to the passengers side door, waiting for him to unlock it while you shiver. He notices you didn't have a coat on, shaming himself silently for not offering his trench for the short walk.

You both get in when he unlocks to doors and you eye the interior, the plush leather of the seats. You squint a little when you cast your eyes over to him, "I feel like you're compensating for something."

"Oh yeah?" he asks casually, starting the car and cranking the heat, "What am I compensating for? Wanna remind me?"

You cross your arms and don't answer because he doesn't have anything to compensate for. Steve Harrington was born blessed, if you were more religious you'd swear he was God's favorite.

"That's what I thought," he says with a grin while pulling out of the parking lot. His hand meets your head rest while he stretches his neck back to check for cars. The same hand falls to your thigh when you make it on the road, sliding his palm over the swell of it -- his fingers resting inside. He let his eyes glance at how your hips filled up the small passengers seat at a red light, your jeans tight over your thighs.

Steve gave you a soft squeeze when the light turned green, you put your hand over his hand at the gesture -- relacing your fingers. You don't notice the gentle smile blooming onto his face, too busy looking at Christmas lights on the houses outside.

--

You don't waste time when you both get into his house, slipping off your shoes at the entry way -- bolstering passed the darkened livingroom to the stairs in his mini-mansion. He follows quickly behind you, getting ahead of you to get into his room to turn on the bedside lamps.

"Are those new?" you whisper -- it's not like anyone is home, it's Steve's house, but the darkness makes you feel like you have to be quiet. He comes back over to you, quick on his socked feet and pulls you in for a feverish kiss.

"Yeah," he says between kisses, all harsh breaths and wet clicks, "I had a new -- mmm -- uh fuck -- new decorator come in."

His hands are wound in your hair while he keeps control of your head, his kisses go from fast and hungry to slow and controlled.

"I'll show you later," he mumbles against your lips. You nod in agreement, you did genuinely want to see. What fancy hotel was it based off of this time?

"This is okay, right?" he asks, pulling away, "I'm sorry I didn't ask I just -- old habits, I guess."

"It's okay, Stevie," you assure, his hands slipping out of your hair and onto your full cheeks. He squishes them together a little and smiles into a little chuckle. Sometimes you're so cute to him he can't stand it, he wants to eat you whole -- wants to keep you in his bed forever.

"Good," he mumbles again before settling back in for a deep kiss that leaves you moaning softly into his mouth, "Missed feeling you like this."

"You're so needy," you tease, his hands dropping from your face to your hips, feeling his own press against yours.

"Oh, you feel that?" he smirks, dick hard in his slacks -- straining despterately to get your attention.

"Needier than I thought," you scoff, "You gonna make it, Steve? You don't even have your jacket off yet."

"Watch your mouth," it's not mean when he says it, he likes when you tease him because you have nothing to back it up. You've never left unsatisfied -- even when you were on top calling him your 'sweet boy', you'd get in the shower after with your legs shaking. Shivering against him when he'd get on his knees and lick at your sensitive clit just to watch you leave hand print on the glass.

"You just sound so pretty, miss. I can't help myself," he'd say from below you, water droplets resting on his eyelashes while you gushed over his mouth.

Steve breaks away to take off his jacket and looks at it for a split second -- hesitating.

"You wanna hang it up, huh?" you know how he gets.

"Will you be mad? I just don't want it to crease," he pleads.

"You're gonna get the suit dry cleaned anyway," you say back, laughing.

"I know, I know, but I have to -- I just have to hang it up, I'm so sorry," he presses a chaste peck to your lips before disappearing into his walk in closet. You take your time getting undressed because you know he'll be at least seven to nine minutes while he puts everything back in the 'to be dry cleaned' part of the closet.

You keep your bra and panties on, white satin, a little lace. He's always a sucker for something angelic that's a little grown up -- but you guess you are grown ups now. It's weird to consider.

He emerges from the closet in his boxer breifs with a frown, "Why'd you take your clothes off without me?"

"You took your clothes off without me," you counter point, "Did you want me to just sit here and wait for you?"

"Kinda," he says with a half shrug, "Would've been nice."

You get a little giddy while he approaches you, his smile building when yours does. His hands skate over the flesh on top of your flared ribs, over to your back. His fingers gliding over the back strap of your bra before snapping it off of you, dropping it to the floor. He traces the indents on your skin from the clothing, red and raw. Big hands grope at your breasts before following the slope of your waist back down to your ass, filling his hands greedily.

"Missed her the most," another chaste kiss to your lips, "But I think you knew that." Steve had always thought he was a tits guy until he met you, maybe you were the exception. Maybe he liked all your parts.

"I knew that," you say, wrapping your arms around his neck, "Can you stop stalling, Harrington? This wine's gonna wear off soon."

With your hold on his neck, laying you back on the mattress was an easy feat. He spread you out wide, pushing your hands above your head while he settled his hips against yours. He couldn't help himself from starting to rut against you -- you were so warm, your pussy practically begging him to fuck you.

"Ooh," you moaned out against your better wishes, his covered cock giving you just enough friction in your panties to set you ablaze. You could feel yourself dripping into them, begging, waiting for him.

"You really want me tonight, huh?" he asked hungrily, knowing the answer.

"Y-yes, Stevie," you whined, letting go of his hands to let your nails graze down his back, feeling the length of him trapped in his boxers press against you.

"Oh-ho-ho, whose needy now, hm?" he teases in your ear, grinding mercilessly against you, his chest pressed up against yours while he keeps you pinned the the mattress.

"So quick with that tongue earlier, what happened?" he smirks, getting right in your face, brushing his nose against yours. You roll your hips against his, your thighs sliding against his hips as another mewl escapes you at the friction.

"Oh, I see. You wanna be good for daddy now, don't you?"

"Steven," your eyes pop open, your mouth gapes with a smile, "You can't just say stuff like that."

He laughs into a kiss on your neck, "C'mon, I think you liked it."

"I don't really think you're the 'daddy', type," you say, your voice taunting.

"No?" he asks his voice is calm, but his eyes are challenging you.

"No, you're too nice," you smirk while he comes up to kiss your mouth, "You've never won a fight in your life. And you're what, almost 30? Who're you bossin' around?"

He watches you raise a brow when you say it, your lower lip tucking slowly between your teeth in a grin -- god he loves when you do that.

"Lot of secretaries to go through in the office, mmm," he hums when your lips graze his neck, your tongue striping up to his jaw, "Learned a couple things."

"You think I can't boss you around?" he asks, pressing up off of you and leaning onto one of his forearms.

"I know you can't boss me around," you say, your brows quirking while you push at his chest to get on top of him like you always do. Already soaking at the thought of him whining for you to fuck him, to cum all over him, grabbing at your thighs, hips, and ass desperately. His heaving breaths after finishing, resting his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair, feeling his lips press against your soft, pudgy, belly to let you know he's ready for the next round.

He caught your wrist as you pushed and pressed it back down into the mattress.

"Oh c'mon Stevie, I love hearing you beg for me," you tease before he presses his mouth against yours, noses squishing together. Over the years, Steve craved closeness from you -- pulling you flush against his chest when you were on top, wrapping his arms around your back. Clutching you, fingertips sinking into your cloud-soft flesh while you moaned into his ear.

"Think you can beg for me for a change," he mutters, pulling away as you reach to kiss him again. A little whine pulls from your throat and he purrs at the sound. Right where he wants you.

He gets on his knees between your legs and looks down at you, eyes roaming the expanse of your body -- your broad shoulders, soft skin, delicate curves and indents. His personal Aphrodite -- flesh turned fine art. All the Rennaissance paintings in the world couldn't do you justice. He stuttered the first time he saw you naked, overwhelmed by you and how not shy you were for him to see you. Steve let's a finger trail along the lining of your silk panties at your thigh, you shiver at his soft touch.

"Take these off," he says, but it comes out as a demand.

"So mean," you tease, tugging at the elastic and lifting your hips up to push them over your butt and thighs. He shrugs off your jest, grabbing your underwear when they get too far down for you to reach and throwing them on the floor. He's rough when he flips you over to your stomach, the flesh of your ass bouncing with the movement and he salivates immediately.

"I'll show you mean," he says, it's more playful than menacing. He brings a hand down hard on your soft body, ass reverberating with the action and you gasp -- tensing all around.

"Ow -- Steve!" you cry out, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh, shit,” he smooths over the pink handprint blooming on your skin, “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay, it's fine, just -- I don't know, warn a girl," you laugh. His hand drags over the curve of your ass to your thigh.

"Did you like that?" he asked, his voice dropped to his lower register and you inadvertently press your thighs together. Your face drops into your arms on the mattress, blushing.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, fingers snaking to your inner thigh and your hips roll slowly at the feeling. He hums when he sees you nod into your forearms.

"On your knees, baby," he suggests, tapping your thigh. You adjust onto your knees, forearms still on the mattress in a perfect deep arch. He sits back at first, taking a moment to marvel at your ass in the air -- committing it to memory. He keeps his hand on your inner thigh, massaging gently while you settle into position.

"Open up a little more for me," he's gentle, pushing at your flesh so you open up wider. You adjust and he grins, sliding his boxers off -- you whimper when he does.

"You okay?" his voice laces with acute concern, it wasn't a sexy whine or cry like you usually do. He stands up so he can soothe you from the side of the bed, his hand smoothing over your back.

"I thought you were gonna -- I didn't know we were immediately gonna fuck," you say, leaning your face to the side to look at him.

"Oh no - I wasn't just gonna - when have I ever just gone in and fucked you?" he laughs, "I just wanna jerk off while you sit on my face, is that okay?"

"So much for me begging for you," you smirk, "Sitting on your face, just like old times."

He huffs a breath through his nose looking down at you, his face unimpressed. He leans forward, face inches away from yours, "Who was just whining over the idea that I might not eat her pussy tonight?"

You burn at his words and he notices, "Was it you?"

You nod with an embarrassed smile, "If you're a good girl, I'll let you be the boss next time. I'll teach you a few things, yeah?"

"Steeeeve," you whine while your skin is in flames, "You can't say that."

He gets on the bed behind you, one hand on the bend of your hip, the other with his fingers sliding against your open folds -- finding slicknes without surprise.

"Can't say what?" he asks with a smile, "Can't call you my good girl?"

Your hips push back on his fingers when he says it and you scold yourself at your body's betrayal. You hear him tutt behind you and you clench around nothing at the sound, "Sure feels like I can."

He slides under you like a well versed mechanic, arms and hands immediately wrapping around your thighs, stifiling their nervous jiggle. He guides you down to his mouth, your posture changing while you sit further up and back so you can see his eyes and he can see all of you. Your hips wiggle as you feel his breath on your opening.

"Are you excited?" he asks, you nod and he can't hold out anymore at the sight of your smile. You feel his tongue drag, poking between your folds once you relaxed -- his fingers reaching to keep you spread open to start.

Your smile transforms to a pornographic gasp, head immediately thrown back as his tongue stripes you again. Your hips rock against his mouth, Steve smirks to himself into the next lick, flicking over your clit and a peal of mewls escape your lips.

He feels at home here, your full, thick thighs keeping his ears warm in the December weather. This big cold house suddenly feeling full with your voice moaning his name. He didn't need the whiskey if you were offering to quench his thirst like this.

You feel his tongue lap at your opening, the thick, wet, muscle pushing in past your walls trying to desperate to out maneuver him. His face was coated in your juices, dripping freely own onto his chin and cheeks while he fucked you with his tongue. He watched as your hand reached down to tease your clit, he caught it in his, pushing it up to your breasts.

"Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch," he says, scooting up a bit.

"But Steve I --" you huff, desperate for some extra stimulation.

"I'm getting there, if you'd just be patient for like, twenty seconds," his voice sounds like he's back at the bar, admonishing you like you're rushing him to get out of the bathroom.

"You're ruining the mood," you cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

"Aww, I'm ruining the mood?" he mocks, a fake frown matching yours. He slides a finger slowly past your tight walls and you falter a little but hold to your convictions. He holds eye contact with you through his glasses, pushing a second finger in to meet the first.

Your mouth gapes, eyes pricking with tears as your walls close down hard on him, "Am I still ruining the mood, baby?"

A silent cry rattles your chest, falling quietly out of your open mouth. Your eyes close tight while he snickers, pumping his fingers in a steady rhythm, "It's all better now, isn't it?"

His voice makes you dizzy, he used to talk to you like this when you first started fucking. Cocky and confident -- certain he was making you feel good, and fuck he was. What did he ask you to do before? Your brain was racking for the command, but too overwhelmed with pleasure when he hooked his fingers to find your g-spot.

"Stevie -- oh fuck, fuck, please more," you whine out, you sound pathetic but you can't even find your self to care. It feels like a roller coaster reaching it's peak with every curve of his fingers teasing your spongey center. 'Play with your tits f'me baby, let me watch.' There it is, that you could do. You palm your breasts, pulling and pinching at your hard nipples looking down at him over your belly pooch. He winks when his tongue finally makes contact with your clit and you shudder instantly. You gush over his fingers, taken by surprised by your own orgasm -- already feeling the second one building.

"That's my good girl," he purrs beneath you, "Stay just like that, okay? I'm not done."

You gulp, feeling his soft kitten licks back on your clit start to ramp up to fast flutters -- Steve didn't want to start you back up slowly. Your breath had barely steadied before it picked back up again, flexing your core to keep yourself hovering above him. Your hand reached down to his hair, tugging while your thighs tensed.

"Ride my face, baby, come on," he encourged, "You've never been nervous to do it before."

"I --," you hesitated, "I didn't with Andy -- it's been a while."

"What?" he asked, surprised, pushing up so his full head peeked out from between your legs, "Are you fucking with me?"

"He...ugh, Steve," you leaned your head back and then turned it back down, mumbling, "He said I was too heavy."

Steve's eyes furrow, mouth open, unsure at first how to respond -- aghast, "This guy sounds like a fucking loser. You're not too heavy -- god -- who says 'no' to that? What's wrong this this guy?"

Steve shakes his head and pushes back down, "Sit on my face, baby. Fuckin' suffocate me."

You don't have a choice, he pulls you down onto him, your knees sliding further apart and you can't help but start grinding your hips against his tongue. The whole act sounds as lewd as it looks, wet and sticky as he captures your slit in his mouth to suck on it. Spreading your ass in his hands to spread you further apart, moaning low into your pussy so you can feel the vibration through your core.

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ooh daddy just like that," the words just pour out of you while you start reaching your second peak, hips writhing onto him with your back arched. Steve grips your ass cheek hard before smacking down on it with a loud 'thwap!', satisfaction burning in his stomach -- daddy, daddy, daddy. The same hand reaches for his neglected cock, covered in pre, leaving a patch of cold liquid on his hard, muscled stomach.

Steve feels your hips hump his mouth in quick succession, his nose bumping your clit rapidly. Your moans get shorter and higher with each flick of his tongue against you until they're just huffed breaths.

"Mmm, come on," he nods up at you, "You can do it, angel."

You nod back, face contorted while tears stain your cheeks, the next roll of your hips his mouth makes contact with your clit again. You see stars, you cum so hard you swear you're pissing. You can hear Steve's grunts under you, collecting your slick to add friction to the fist he's fucking behind you.

"Get on your back," he demands, "Need t'fuck you, holy shit."

You get on your back, looking up at him now on his knees, both of your eyes lust blown in the low light. You weren't a stranger to his cock, but every time you saw it you couldn't help but feel spit build in your mouth. It was angry tonight, tip red and leaking, veins pulsing while he stroked himself looking down at you.

"I don't know, Stevie -- it might be -- it's too much," you say, thighs pressing together to protect your sensitive cunt.

"Two is nothing, honey," he shakes his head opening your legs up, crawling over you to line his tip up with your entrance, "You've given me four in less time."

You whine like a child, but you don't stop him when he slides the tip against your entrance, building up the slickness to slide over his cock. When his tip pops in you hiss, back arching to feel another inch push into you.

"Oh, that shut you up, huh?" that voice was back again, Steve was starting to feel so confident, you might as well start calling him Manhattan. He pushes deep into you, all the way to the hilt -- your legs springing up against your chest automatically -- heels hitting his back.

"You feel so good, Stevie," you moan into his mouth while he leans in to kiss you.

"Pussy's fucking made for me," he rasps while his thrusts pick up, forceful and deliberate. Steve loves fucking you because he knows how well you can take it. You were built sturdy, plush, soft -- he loved how it felt to slam into you. He'd heard it on the radio, some cheesy line 'more cushion for the pushin', but fuck if it wasn't true.

Steve knew he wouldn't last long inside you, your pussy tight and wet -- hugging him in place, resisting his exit. He filled you completely, your eyes rolling back the second you felt the hair at the base of his cock tickle your skin over and over again.

"Steve, oh god Steve," you moan through gritted teeth, tears back to rolling down your cheeks as your nails dig into his back, "Just like that daddy, fuck me like that."

His mouth falls open at your words, the girls on his desk never talk like that. He can't fuck them how he wants to, never throws them around. They don't look at him the way you look at him, soft and pretty. They don't wanna wash his hair for him in the shower after, and kiss the freckles on his back. He doesn't wanna make them dinner after, or give them a ride home. He doesn't blush the way he does when it's you that calls him daddy. When you call out his name. When you look up at him with those eyes. When you hold his hand in the car. When you tease him for coming to Porter's early. When you call every time you come home just to see him when you could see anyone else.

Steve's hand finds your jaw but you guide it to your throat while you bounce against his thrusts, he chuckles wickedly, "When'd you turn into such a whore?"

His fingers press down expertly on your neck while you attempt to moan out an answer that he doesn't wanna hear. He just wants to keep watching your fucked out face and body while he drills into you deeper. His voice lilts into a mocking coo, your cunt drools.

"Just for me, isn't it?" he asks down at you through his glasses, and you nod quickly in his hold, "They're not fuckin' you like this in the city, huh?"

"Had to come all the way back to Indiana to get this dick, didn't you? All the way back home so daddy could fuck you just how you like it," he huffs, feeling himself get close.

"Yes, yes -- had t-to come back for you - oh fuck, fuck," you whine out, raspy and nasal from lack of blood flow.

"Who fucks you like I do, hm? Who else is makin' you come like I can?" he eases up on your throat, moving back to your jaw -- leaning in to give you a sloppy tongue kiss into your gasping mouth. You tighten again over him, gushing whatever creamy spend you had left in you, gripping his shoulder tightly while your eyes pinched closed.

When you're nose to nose again you look up at him, "Nobody, Stevie. Just you, it's just you."

He growls at the confirmation, his hips stuttering -- 'Nobody fucks her like I do,' ringing in his head while he feels his vision start to go white.

"Baby, baby," he starts, his voice softening, "God, fuck -- can I come in your mouth?"

You nod and he groans, panting while your wet walls keep his cock warm and tight inside you. Steve slows his thrusts which just makes the feeling more intoxicating, your sticky thighs meshing with his soaked hilt. You whimper and cry with every push into your overstimulated cunt, your legs almost giving out from being pressed against your chest.

"Jesus Christ. Gonna come in your mouth," he whispers into your neck, "Feels -- oh shit -- fuck, it feels so good in your pussy, though."

Steve knows he can't hold back, quickly pulling out of you while you shoot up onto your elbows. He pulls your head forward with one fell swoop of his big hand, your mouth and thrat sucking in his cock in a vice grip. You can feel the warm liquid start shooting into your mouth immediately, but it doesn't stop you from obediently sucking on it. He's peak caveman brain while he watches you, your eyes shining up at him while he holds his weight up on your head -- grunts and snarls coming out of his mouth while he finishes thrusting into your face.

You take your mouth off as he softens and swallow, gingerly sitting up slowly. Your thighs ache, you're exhausted. He sits down onto his calves, both of you panting on the center of the bed.

"Let me -- let me get you some water," he huffs out, sliding off the mattress into the attatched master bathroom. He's only gone for ten seconds, passing a clear glass into your shaking hand. You sip slowly to start before gulping it down.

"You okay?" he asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead, "You're quiet."

You nod, taking a deep breath and letting it out, "That was...insane."

He laughs, it makes you laugh, and he lays down onto the mattress to stare up at you. You look down at him, offering Steve a weak smile before looking back at your empty water cup. You slide off the bed like he did before, putting the glass back on the bathroom counter, peeing, washing your hands, and walking back out.

You let out a tired sigh, reaching for your clothes strewn about by his dresser -- sliding on your panties.

"What're you doin', Manhattan?" he asks, sitting up, "Got somewhere to be?"

"I'm getting dressed, Steve," you explain, putting your bra back on. Steve's chest hollowed, normally you'd have some pillow talk after -- talk it out. He still had to show you the new house decor.

"Hey, stop," his voice is soft as he waves his hand at you, "You don't have to do that."

"I gotta get home, Steve," you assure, "It's getting late."

"You..." he trails off before taking a deep breath, replenishing his confidence, "You could stay. I can drive you back in the morning."

"Steve..." you start, shimmying a little to get your jeans over your hips and thighs, "I never stay. That's not us, that's not what we do."

"It could be..." he suggests, his voice cracking a little, "Please?"

You stand there, in your bra and unbuttoned jeans, your tummy poking out where the zipper is undone. Your bra suddenly feels tight and uncomfortable, your underwear constricting you under the jeans that feel a size too small.

He looks you over, watching you contemplate it and gets up out of bed to meet you by his dresser. His hands reach to each side of your face, warm and big. His fingertips graze the hair at the edge of your scalp, pinkies and ring fingers on the back of your neck. He tilts your head up slightly to look at him and your heart hammers, more than it did the first time he started kissing you in his car. Steve's heart matches your cadence, remembering how nervous he was the first time he talked to you -- desperately wanting you to be impressed by him.

"I --" you start blushing, he's never looked at you quite like this, "I don't have anything to wear to bed."

"I don't want you to wear anything to bed," he says, leaning forward to capture your lips in his while you both step awkwardly as a unit back over to the bed, "It'd just get in the way in the morning."

"Please stay," he pleads again, pressing a gentle peck on your lips, "Please -peck-, please -peck-, please -peck-. "

"Okay, okay," you laugh, "Are you sure?"

"I'm begging you," he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. The tops of his frames hitting your brow bone. He lets go of your face to make work of the top of your jeans, shoving them back down until they pool at your ankles. He unhooks your bra, a little too expertly, and snaps the band of your satin panties before rolling those down too. He moves down with them so he can skate his hands over your thighs and leave a warm kiss on the flesh over your hip bone -- apologizing to the bruise he left there earlier.

"Can't believe you kept your glasses on," you tease, "Dweeb."

He comes back up, sliding his glasses off smoothly, like he did in the back seat of his BMW five years ago, "I like being able to really see you."

"Am I blurry without them?" you asked, trying to take them out of his hand. He snatches them out of your grasp, hiding them behind his back.

"Not really," he says, walking over to the bedside table and placing them next to the lamp, "You told me they made me look handsome back in - think it was -- '94 maybe? -- So I just wanted to keep them on for insurance."

You look down at the floor, "I always think you look handsome, Harrington."

You feel his hand at the back base of your neck and turn to see him behind you, "Come back to bed." 

He gets under the sheets and both duvets and turns down the covers next to him, slapping the pillow you're going to sleep on to beckon you forward. You want to roll your eyes but you can't force down the giddiness building in your chest -- sleep over!

You maneuver over to your side of the bed, slipping under the covers while he turns them back over you to tuck you in. Fuck are the sheets nice, they had to be some luxury brand you can only order through a catalog.

Steve clicks off his bedside lamp, leaning over you to click off yours and you catch the remnants of his cologne on his skin. It's not long before you feel his hand skate over you under the covers, sliding over your belly, up over every curve and bump on your body before resting a warm hand on the side of your breast. He hums sleepily and pulls you close to him, pressing his chest against your shoulder. His hot breath fans against your neck where he's settled his head.

"Isn't this nice?" he asks. You nod, turning onto your side to face him while his hand splays across your back to pull you closer. You slide a hand under the pillow, and savor the coolness on your hot skin. Steve looks at you with soft eyes, studying you.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, "Or, well, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course," you say, looking at him, trying to read his expression.

"Remember -- ah fuck, okay I'm doing this," he says, trying to psyche himself up, "Remember when I said I had some options? To make changes?"

"Yeah, I remember. You can't wait when those opportunities come, Harrington," you lecture, "I've fucked myself so many times with that."

"There's a position in the New York office," he blurts out, "In the head quarters that they're eyeing me for."

Your heart races, "Okay."

"And I'd be...I don't know, sort of demoted but I'd get a huge -- like, huge fucking pay raise," he explains, "And I -- I wanna take it."

A beat passes while he tries to figure out what to say.

"And maybe, I don't know -- maybe we could try this out? Like for real? Instead of just fucking around every Christmas."

You consider it, heat blooming in your cheeks -- the good kind. Your heart starts to swell -- not Steve Harrington asking you out when you're twenty-nine. Sixteen year old you would be screaming.

"What do you think?" he asks, he swipes his hand through his hair and even in the dark you know his cheeks are pink.

"I don't think it's a bad idea," you say, "I think it's the excitement you're looking for -- New York I mean, not me."

"I think you're really exciting," he leans in to kiss you with a grin.

"And I think," he presses his lips against yours again, "I'd do a pretty good job at taking care of you, if you let me."

You laugh through your nose, blushing hard while he kisses your cheek, "That sounds nice, doesn't it?"

"It does sound nice, Steve," you agree, but you don't want him to feel too good about it. You had a reputation to uphold, still. He leans back to look at you, thumb caressing your cheek as your lids fall half down your eyes, "I think I'd really like that."

"You wanna shower? You too tired?" his voice his so gentle you start to melt, but exhaustion weighs heavy on you.

"Too tired," you say, nuzzling forward into his neck -- your head now partially on his pillow.

"We can talk about it more in the morning, yeah?" he asks, a hand reaching up to smooth over your hair.

"Yeah," you said, your breath steadying, "I'll see you in the morning."

He knows you don't like eggs for breakfast but it's all he has in the fridge. It's fine. He'll just order in.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

OP character catching you drawing them: Crocodile

I had forgotten how daddy Crocodile is. And this was going to be a Crocodile and Marco, but it got a bit long, so I'm posting crocodady's part as a stand alone.

The air was tense as you glared at Crocodile, only thing heard in the room was the ticking of the tall grandfather clock in the corner and the irritated scratching of his fountain pen against paper. He sat at his desk, and you sat across the room on his office couch. Crocodile and you had had two fights that day. That morning the bastard had canceled your plans for a trip to the beach in favor of doing paperwork. Even though he promised the two of you would go together after he's cancelled plans with you for three weeks straight. So that was the first fight, a small one that didn't really bother you.

The fight that had led to your anger resulted from you trying to go back to your apartment. He insisted you stay the night, swearing that he'd make the beach trip up to you with something even better. But when you expressed that you just wanted to go home to draw, blocked the exit with sand. You reached forward and started to push a sculpture off his coffee table.

The shrill squeaks of the metal against the marble tabletop made him look up at you over the top of his glasses. "Really? "

"Yes," you respond curtly as you nudge it closer to the edge.

"You know what, glare at me, and break all of my stuff that you want to, but..." Crocodile groused, pointing his cigar at you, "it won't change my mind."

You huffed and flop back into the couch, "I know, but at least give me something to do.

"You said you wanted to draw, here," he growled, yanking a stack of paper out of a drawer, and gestured to the pencil cup on his desk. "Amuse yourself for an hour, and I'll show you a night you'll never forget." You pursed your lips, walked over and took the papers. Crocodile sighed, "thank you," as you sat in the chair opposite his, and fished through the pencil cup.

Fort five minutes later Crocodile flopped back in his chair, and stretched. He was finally finished with his work, which meant his time and attention were all yours. The man glanced over at you, you were still too absorbed in your drawing to notice that he had finished. He was surprised and amused when he watched to dip your fingers into his ashtray and use them on your drawing.

To him, you were inspirational, you made him think about things in different ways.

Like he never would have considered his cigar ashes as something as anything other than trash. But you saw them and used them to shade your drawing. Although Crocodile mostly used his new outlook to cause havoc, acquire funds, and to try to figure you out. It was one of the many things Crocodile liked about you. And not that he'd admit it aloud, but it made him want to be a little like you.

You yipped in surprise when he leaned forward and pulled the pages out of your hands.

You could feel his voice rumble in your chest when he purred, "you were drawing my hands?"

" ....no."

"You're a bad liar, why did you draw just my hands?"

"Hands are hard to draw, but yours are quite fun to draw."

Crocodile's ego swells when he hears this as he examines the lovingly detailed drawing of his hand on the page. They looked big and strong. He was also deeply flattered you would use him as your subject.

"Really? Sorry I only have one of them for you to draw." He says as he grins, hoisting his big gold hook aloft, in an attempt to cover his embarrassment from you.

You laughed and shook your head, "You know I've always adored your hook."

Crocodile stood to his feet, made his way around his mahogany desk. He slid his hook round the back of your neck, making you look up at him, and he purred"You do, do you?"

When you obediently nodded and acknowledged him with a soft hum, he chuckled darkly and pulled you into a kiss.

"If you are ready to leave, would you go grab our coats?" When you disappeared into the closet attached to his office, he scribbled down a note to order art supplies for his office. He hoped that you'd come draw him more often. When you returned, he guided you out of his office with his arm around your waist. Your smile made him decided he'd build you a whole goddamn studio if it meant you used him as your muse.

[bi-bard]

The List - Kelly Severide Imagine (Chicago Fire)

Title: The List

Pairing: Kelly Severide X Reader

Requested: nope

Word Count: 642 words

Warning(s): cussing, argument, mention of sex (it's just one joke)

Summary: (Inspired by "The 10 Things I Hate About You" by Leah Kate) When you're working with an ex, things can get complicated. When that ex is Kelly Severide, you may need to be reminded of why you two definitely didn't work.

Author's Note: I heard this song and immediately thought of Kelly. I just loved the idea.

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

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

I was sitting in my car after I got home. I had been sitting there for twenty minutes, wallowing in self-pity and consistently overthinking.

I hadn't truly considered the difficulty of working with Kelly after everything that went down between the two of us.

When we were actually on a call, it was easy enough. The focus was on the task at hand. No time to worry about personal drama when you're saving someone.

However, when we were waiting between calls, it was difficult to keep my composure. I wouldn't have much more to do than think about everything that had happened. Had I said the right thing? Did I end things at the right time? Overthinking had just become par for the course.

The only time that the overthinking was worse than that downtime was when I was on my own.

So, after twenty minutes of hating every thought to cross my brain, I snagged my small notebook out of my bag. I scribbled down a quick list of every bad trait I could think of. Every element that made me consider leaving in the first place. Once it was done, I threw it back into the side pocket of my bag without a second thought.

The list gave me enough of a cushion to sleep through the night. For the first time in a long time, I was able to push away those thoughts for just a short amount of time.

When I got back to work the next day, I didn't think to clear out my bag. I had pretty much forgotten that the list had existed.

I was just leaving the lockers after dropping off my stuff when my arm was grabbed.

My instinct was to swing, but the person who grabbed me moved back just enough to avoid the hit.

Kelly.

I clenched my jaw at the sight of him.

"We need to talk," Kelly said simply before dragging me down the hall.

I yanked my arm away from him, "You don't get to drag me around like a toddler having a tantrum."

"And you don't get to write little notes about me for other people to read," he waved my journal in front of my face.

I snatched it from him immediately, "Where the hell did you find this?"

"It was in the middle of the hall," he replied. "For anyone to find your stupid little list."

"Why are you acting like I planted it there," I asked.

"Because I know you'll do anything to badmouth me and keep your perfect reputation up," Kelly crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me.

"Kelly," I scoffed. "You are the only person who knows I have this. It doesn't have my name on it. That list doesn't have any indication that it's about you. It's just a scribbled list that would be nonsense to anyone else."

Kelly didn't respond.

"It says a shit ton about you that you recognized who this list was about," I shrugged. "Especially that part about your... endurance."

More silence. The Kelly Special: shut down as soon as you realize you're wrong.

"I'm not trying to 'badmouth' you, Kelly. I just don't want to feel like shit whenever I'm not on a call. That's what this list was for. I took a moment to let out my emotions in a pretty healthy way. I'm sorry that you saw it, but I didn't plant it to embarrass you like that."

When he didn't speak, I just sighed and turned around. All I could do now was continue my work and hope he would just let this go.

As I was walking away, Kelly finally decided to speak up, "I'm sorry."

I paused and turned to face him, "So am I."

However, we were both apologizing for very different things.

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

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

[beomcoups]

strawberry kisses | n.yt

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boyfriend!Yuta (NCT) x reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut, established relationship au, picnic au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R (18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: kissing, nipple play, oral (f receiving) and masturbating

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.6k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your day off and Yuta decides to take you out on a picnic at the beach.

𝐀𝐍:thank you so much @doderyscoffee​ for looking over this for me and saving me from embarrassment  🍓

Today is going to be a good day. 

It’s the first day off that you and Yuta have had off in a while. You both work in high-level corporate jobs, and sometimes you both get so busy that the days blur together. He is the creative director of an animation company, and you are the secretary of a powerful government official. You are lucky to watch a movie together, let alone take a shower together or be intimate with one other. It is a wonder that you were approved for the day off, and Yuta wants to take you on a picnic. 

You met Yuta at a bar two years ago. You were both starting out at your jobs and looking to drink away your stress of being the new employee and paying off your student loans. You noticed him right away: his long hair and suit stuck out to you as he didn’t look like the typical corporate guy. So you made a plan to sit next to him and order a drink, and you almost succeeded until you approached the bar and he turned around, spilling his drink all over you. 

“Oh no!” Yuta exclaimed, grabbing a napkin. “I didn’t see you coming. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you waved him off, your face hot with embarrassment. “Mistakes happen.”

He attempted to pat your blouse dry, touching your breasts by mistake. You cleared your throat, and Yuta realized what he had done. Now, it was his turn to be embarrassed. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know,” you responded, taking the napkin from him. 

You patted yourself dry as best as you could, feeling disappointed that your plan didn’t go through. You thanked Yuta for trying to help and left the bar, ready to go home and wash the stench of liquor off of you. Well, tonight was a bust, you thought to yourself, kicking small pebbles out of your way.

“Hey! Wait!”

You heard a voice calling from behind, and you turn around. Yuta was running up to you out of breath, holding a small black wallet—your wallet—in his hands. 

“You dropped this when you left,” he said, handing it to you. “You sure walk fast.”

“Well, I wanted to get home and shower, so...” you chuckled, motioning to your ruined dress. “I currently smell like Budweiser.”

“Honestly, I am really sorry about that.” His tone was soft, and his face was sincere. “Let me make it up to you tomorrow over dinner.”

You were at a loss of words, flattered that he asked you out on a date. However, you didn’t answer right away. Instead, you took a pen and a sticky note you had in your purse and scribbled down your number. Then, you stuck it on his coat, telling him to meet you tomorrow at 7pm at a local diner that you frequent. 

“I know the place,” Yuta disclosed, taking the note and putting it in his coat pocket. “I’ll meet you there.”

The date went great the next day: you learned more about each other and realized that you had more in common. For example, you both shared the same humor, tastes in music, tv shows and movies, and are family-oriented. You spent all night at the diner, talking about everything you could think of until the sun came up. Yuta was the perfect gentleman, ordering you a cab and making sure you got home safe. 

“I’ll call you when I wake up,” he said, leaving a kiss on your cheek. 

One date turned into several, and now, years later, you share an apartment and plan to spend the rest of your lives together. Thank God he spilled his beer on you that night. 

“Baby, are you ready?” Yuta calls out from the living room.

You are in the bedroom, packing up some last minute things before you both hit the road. Yuta wouldn’t tell you where the place is, saying it’s a “secret” and to pack clothes that you can quickly get out of. You know he mentioned a picnic, but your mind started wandering all over the place in excitement. So, you packed a sundress, t-shirt, shorts, and a swimsuit just in case wherever he is taking you has water. 

“Yeah, babe.” You rush out of the room. “I have everything I need.”

Yuta had packed all the foods you would need so you wouldn’t get hungry while you were out. You had offered to help, but he had insisted on doing it, saying that he wanted to make it special. He’s always thinking of you and how to create moments meaningful for you. He’s thoughtful, caring, and not afraid to tell you if you are messing up. How did you get so lucky?

You both exit the apartment and pack your things in the car, the early morning sun greeting you with its bright rays as you hit the road. You stop by a local cafe to get coffee and pastries in the drive-thru, complaining to Yuta that you did not feel fully functional without coffee.  

“I’m sorry, baby,” you giggle, eating your strawberry-filled danish. “You know how I am.”

Yuta shakes his head and smiles, pulling out of the drive-thru. He gets on the highway, and the ride is good for three hours. Watching the sunrise over the horizon is one of your favorite things in the world, and you let the window down, sticking your head out of the door occasionally. The ivory clouds and luscious green trees make a beautiful sight, and so you pull out your phone to take pictures. You capture everything in sight, including Yuta, who looks delectably handsome driving the car. 

“You are really handsome,” you tell him, snapping one last photo.

“Thank you, my love,” Yuta says, his shyness taking over. 

There aren’t many things that can make Yuta blush or feel cute, but you aren’t just anything. You are the apple of his eye, the love of his life. You love how bashful he gets when you praise him, and he deserves it. He is a good man, and there will never be a day he doesn’t know that. 

“We’re here! Wake up, sleepyhead,” Yuta announces. 

He nudges your shoulder, and you stir out of your sleep, eyes being met with tall grass, sand, and ocean water. You haven’t been to this beach before, and the smell of salt water and the seagulls flying overhead makes it more surreal. Yuta mentioned he found a beach while doing research for his job, and he wanted to take you whenever you had time. You are glad you thought to back everyone. Now you can really enjoy yourself. 

“It looks so pretty here,” you say, stepping out of the car and stretching your legs. 

“I found out that this area is private property, so you have to ask permission from the owners to come and spend time here,” Yuta says. “Fortunately, the owners are long-time clients of mine, so it was no big deal.”

Yuta grabs everything you packed from the car and walks towards the beach, settling on a spot that’s not too close to the water. The high will be in the early 80’s today, so you knew wearing your bathing suit was definitely ideal. You rummage through your bag until you find your one piece and shorts before searching for an outhouse to change in. 

“Babe, just go into the house there.” Yuta pointed to the beach house right behind you. “My clients left it to us for the day.” 

The house sits on a stone structure, and you couldn’t help but think that the architect wanted to make sure the house could withstand any storms that came its way. The rich tan wood and high decks made of sandstone pavement complemented each other very well. 

You walk in with the key Yuta gave you, and you are floored with how beautiful the house looks. These must be wealthy clients, you think to yourself. You find the bathroom, quickly change into your bathing suit, and make your way back to Yuta.

“It took you long enough,” he jokes with a silly grin on his face. 

Yuta had set everything up: the cold foods are on platters on the blanket and the warm food is still in the basket. He hands you a can of lemon-lime soda, and you take a seat next to him, looking at the ocean. The endless choppy waters crash into each other and the sun shines brightly in the sky, making you feel nostalgic. It reminds you of when you were a kid, and your parents used to bring you to the beach. You would run around with your brothers until you were out of breath and sandy, eat sandwiches and popsicles until your face was sticky, and were out cold on the drive home. At this moment, right now, you feel at peace. Yuta managed to do the one thing you’ve always wanted: to feel at home with the love of your life. 

“Hey Yuta,” you say, looking at the sand between your toes. 

“Yeah?” He takes a sip from his strawberry soda. 

“I love you. Thank you for this.”

You lean in and kiss him, the sweet taste on his soft lips drawing you in. He leans back on the blanket, and you straddle him, your lips not leaving his. For a moment, you forget that you are out in the open. Your short dress hikes up, showing your matching panties, and Yuta’s hands firmly grip on your ass. The bulge in his pants grows, hitting you in the right spot that’s making you melt. 

Yuta pulls the top of your dress down. “Take it off.” 

Half of your breasts are exposed, and you feel uncomfortable being half-naked out in the open. You nervously meet his eyes and slowly move your straps from your shoulders. Then, as if he read your mind,he stops you and places your hand over his heart. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. 

“I just feel a little nervous, being out in the open like this, you know?” 

Your face gets embarrassingly hot, and you sit back on the blanket. Yuta rubs your back, reassuring you that it’s okay and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. It’s not like you haven’t had sex before. In fact, you have sex a couple times a week if possible. But you were always at home, where you’re the most comfortable, and where no one can see you. In theory, the thought of beach sex sounds nice, but your nerves won’t allow it. You fucking hate it. 

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I wish I was more adventurous for you.”

You put your head down in between your legs, wanting to hide from him and from the world if you could. You hate the thought of disappointing him, and even though he’s cool without getting any action, it doesn’t stop you from feeling bad. Especially when you want him just as badly. Yuta wore a black and white striped muscle shirt that showed off his toned arms, just the way you like it. He got his haircut the day before, styled in an undercut that drives you mad. Your center is pulsating for him, and even though you are scared shitless of being caught, you can’t ignore the way you feel. 

“Are you hungry?” Yuta hands you a bowl of strawberries. 

You take one, eating it slowly while your mind succumbs to dirty thoughts. Unbeknownst to you, Yuta watches you eat the strawberries, hard as a rock under his blanket. He doesn’t want to pressure you into doing something you aren’t comfortable with, but he can’t help but be turned on by you.

“Hey, babe?” Yuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “I want to try something with you, okay?”

You nod, setting your strawberries down and watching him move in front of you, and you notice the blanket covering his body. 

“You look really good eating those,” he says, palming himself. “We have the beach to ourselves, and I want nothing more than to taste your sweet pussy right now.”

“Yuta!” you gasp, face hot with embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I can’t help it.” He kisses your cheek. “You are just so beautiful to me.”

Yuta kisses you once more, starting with your lips and tracing down to your neck. Your skin is on fire, every kiss he leaves setting you ablaze. Your nipples harden as his mouth trails down your body, the excitement of being touched in the open overtaking your fear. 

“We’ll take it slow, okay?” 

You nod, and a smirk creeps up his face, eyes twinkling at your faith in him. His hands slowly take off your dress, sliding your panties down and off your legs. He slowly spreads your legs apart, and his kisses move dangerously lower, his mouth now on your sensitive buds. Your hands run through his silky hair. He continues making his way down your body, careful to not miss an inch of you. He stops right as he reaches the paradise in between your legs, licking his lips and gazing at you. 

“Please,” you say softly. “Don’t make me wait anymore.”

Yuta nods, placing a sweet kiss on your folds. His tongue splits you open, his love for you spelled out with each lick. His face is buried in your cut, sucking on your clit like it would be his last. You bite your lip, trying to not bring any attention to yourself. 

“You taste so good.” Yuta sucks the juices off his fingers slowly. 

He clings to you and grips your thighs, eating you hungrily and lapping at your clit with a need that only you can fix. A muffled moan escapes your lips, and you feel him smirk against your thighs, humming softly as he continues to eat you alive. Your legs shake, and you feel your lower abdomen tighten, and your orgasm crashes down as you scream his name. 

“Go ahead, baby,” Yuta coos. “Cum for me.”

You’re a whimpering mess, your hands gripping his hair tightly as your sweet nectar covers the lower half of his face. You ride your hips against his tongue, riding out your orgasm until you are ripe with sensitivity. He releases you from his hold, and you sit up, trying to catch your breath. You watch him adjust his shorts, his hands covered with his load, and you realize that he pleasured himself while he was making you feel good. 

“Aww, babe.” You grab a napkin and wipe his hands. “I wish I could have helped you with that.”

He suddenly becomes shy, chuckling before leaving sweet kisses on your face. “It’s okay, baby.” His hand brushes your cheek softly. “I wanted today to be perfect for you.”

It’s your turn to be shy, and you bite your lip and cover your face. A flock of seagulls fly above the two of you, and the sparkling sea water invites you both in for a swim. You look at Yuta, who has the same thought in mind, standing up as you do and shedding off his clothes to change into his swim trunks. 

“Last one in the water has to make dinner tonight!” you exclaim, speeding off towards the waves. 

You’re halfway there before Yuta catches you by your waist and carries you into the water, bridal style. 

“So I guess we both are making dinner tonight?” You smile at him, clinging on to his shoulders. 

“Mmhmm,” he responds, kissing you before he throws you into the water. 

You rise up laughing, taunting him with splashes of water. You spend the rest of the day sprawled out on the beach and making new memories, thankful for having him in your life. You hope these feelings never go away, and you are thankful to have him forever. 

[donteatthefishtacos]

Star

Day 9 - @12daysofhatchetfield

Paulkins

This was a place Emma never expected to be.

Being settled in Hatchetfield was part of it, sure, but the more remarkable part of the whole thing to her was the settled part.

Married with a steady career, a house and two cats, the whole shebang.

If she were ever asked, though, Emma would say the most unbelievable part of it all was him. Paul.

Paul had been the completely average customer she saw day in and day out at Beanie’s. A few times a week he would stumble through a conversation with her that left her smiling once he eventually left with a black coffee in his hand.

Until one day when he mentioned hating musicals. Even beyond that, the guy had an itemized list of the reasons he felt that way.

The information had shifted her perception of him, her world tilted a little more to one side on its axis.

Her break was coming up, or so she told him at least, so she sat with him at a table for fifteen minutes and talked while Zoey handled the growing line. Once their individual breaks were up, he went on his way with a refill of the coffee, and her phone number scribbled sneakily on the sleeve.

And now a few years later, here they were. They’d been married for a year and a half, had a working relationship with Tim and Tom, the only family of hers that was left.

She graduated from the community college, and had a new job managing a flower shop downtown. Still the shitty customer service deal but at least all their customers weren’t in caffeine withdrawal when they walked in the door.

“Em?,” his voice called gently from the kitchen. She glanced over in his direction to find him with a bottle of beer in each hand. “Do you want another?”

They were deep in decorating for the holidays. The contents of several plastic tubs from the garage had successfully vomited all over their small living room. And Emma had apparently chosen that year to add popcorn strings to their tree decor, so she sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a string attached to a needle while Paul handled the ornaments. He had a system, always placing them just so on the branches.

He watched her patiently as she let her brain catch up with the question. Clear blue staring out at her just as in wonder as they were that day they first really talked over shitty Beanie’s coffee.

Eventually she smiled, “Yeah,” a smile quirked up on one side of his mouth in response. “Hit me with it, big guy.”

When she took it he scooted carefully by her and scooped up a handful of the popcorn from the bowl. “Hey,” she called after him indignantly while he simply smiled at her around the mouthful. “You better watch it, motherfucker.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he wandered back over to the tree to inspect his work. “But in other news I think the ornaments are all set.”

Emma glanced down at the popcorn string spread over her legs. The whole thing was nearly filled up. Good enough.

“Sweet,” she responded before she took her own handful of popcorn and shifted the bowl to her side on the couch so she could stand. “So’s the popcorn.”

She spent a few minutes getting the string hung just right and when she finally stepped back, Paul was right behind her with the star topper in his hand. The star had been Jane’s, Tom had offered it to her the previous year, a peace offering of sorts.

He smiled at her, and her heart still managed to speed up a bit in her chest, even now that she was years down the line with him.

Average and normal as he had seemed to be before she really knew him, he still managed to surprise her. Take, for instance, the day a few weeks before when he had asked her completely offhandedly if she ever thought about having kids.

“With me,” he had rushed to clarify in the moment. They were on a stroll through Oakley Park while the trees still had colorful leaves to drop. His slightly panicked addition to his question had served to relieve the pounding of her heart, and he had gone on to assure her to take her time, and that the decision was completely hers.

It had been running in the background of her mind ever since then. Especially because she had thought about it, but until he asked she had never seriously considered it, it was a much more nebulous possibility to her up til then.

A ‘what if?’ more than anything.

She watched in the dim light of the tree in the otherwise dark room as Paul reached up to place the star at the top of the tree. For whatever reason, the scene in front of her shifted just slightly, and she saw Paul holding a giggling toddler in reindeer footie pajamas up to put the star in place instead.

Emma blinked, and it was gone. Paul bit down on his lip as he adjusted the star, the clear glass reflected the multi colored lights they had hung together a couple of hours earlier.

He glanced over at her once he was sure the star was secure, completely oblivious to the thoughts running through her head. Though he must have seen something in her expression because he furrowed his brow. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Emma gave him a small smile, her heart hammered against her ribs and she took a long swig of the beer in her hand. When she met his eyes again he was still watching her, a bit of nervous apprehension clear in his face that had never been able to hide his thoughts.

She took a shuddering breath and smiled. “Let’s have a baby.”

[dirty-brainrot]

(Frienemies)

I do not like him I do not like him I like him I do not like him I do not--

Pairing: Jotaro Kujo x Reader

There's nothing in the world that you hate more than Jotaro Kujo, the school's bad boy. Every girl (and even boys of course.) fell for the 195cm emo man and you didn't know why. He was quiet and would tell everyone who approach him to go away, not to mention, very intimidating.

All the teachers fear him and the rest of the students, who don't fall head over heels for him, are afraid to even look at him.

Then there's you.

"I fucking hate that Kujo guy."

The only person in the school with a deep loathing for Kujo Jotaro. You avoided the man as if he was a plague or like a cat with water.

You huffed as your redhead companion only laughed awkwardly. "This is the 3rd time this week, Y/N..., What did he even do to you?" Straightening your back, you turn to face Kakyoin with a deep frown. "Well for starters, your friend," making air quotes friend part, you continued. "He's just a fucking asshole and not to mention I hate his grumpy-ass attitude." You huffed and crossed your arms.

"Ah..." Kakyoin only sweat dropped while listening to you rant about Jotaro. "Honestly, I don't even know how you managed to befriend that guy..." Your voice going soft as you relaxed and looked at him. "Kakyoin, we've been best friends ever since we were kids and this guy—" You cut yourself once you saw the all-familiar edgy teen, the scowl on your face returned. Kakyoin, noticing your swift change of expression, turned around to see Jotaro.

"Ah, hello Jotaro." He gives him a small smile while you greeted him back the complete opposite with venom in your voice. "Kujo." He glances at you and looks back at Kakyoin, ignoring you.

"The old man, Avdol, and Polnareff are visiting this week." Kakyoin's smile widens. "Is Iggy with Polnareff?" You watch the two of them interact as if forgetting your existence. Getting ticked off, you stormed away while mumbling. "Fuck him and his hat."

As you storm away, Kakyoin glances at your irritated figure. "Ah... Can we invite Y/N too? I just want my friends to get along..." He frowns while Jotaro grunts. "I know you don't like them- can you two try to get along at least just once?" Jotaro thought for a moment and nodded his head. 'He probably won't stop until I say yes.' Kakyoin beamed at him. He sighs and grabs the tip of his hat and said his line.

"Yare Yare Daze..."

It was the next day. You had forgotten the whole encounter with Jotaro yesterday and to make your day better, you found a new game shop! You could certainly ask Kakyoin to hang out with you and check it out.

☆

Walking in the student-filled corridor, you kept an eye out for a tall redhead. 'Hm... Where could he be? He could be possibly with Jotaro.' As you rounded the corner, you bumped into somebody. Gasping, you stumbled back and bowed with an apology. "Sorry-" You were cut off with a familiar chuckle. "It's okay Y/N." You smiled and looked up at Kakyoin. "I've been looking for you! I wanted to tell you that there's a new game shop and I wanna ask you if you wanted to go with me."

Saying you were excited is an understatement. You and Kakyoin have been gaming buddies ever since you were a child and now there was a new game shop which could mean new games to play and trash talk over.

You could see Kakyoin getting excited to check out the shop as well. "Yeah! I'd love to." He responded.

The bell rang before any of you could talk again. "I'll see you at the school gate later!" Already heading to your classroom, you waved your hand goodbye. Kakyoin waves back and walks in the opposite direction. Fate seems to be on your side since you haven't seen Jotaro once today and you plan on keeping it like that until math class at least.

The day went by quickly, all the lesson was messily scribbled on your notebooks and all assignment were passed. Now you just have to wait for Kakyoin at the school gate.

Once you arrived at the gate, you saw Jotaro leaning on the wall, smoking. You glare at him knowing he was probably waiting for Kakyoin too. "What are you doing here?" He glances at you and covers his face with the edge of the hat. "Why do you care?"

You roll your eyes. 'He's extra edgy today.' "Can't I just ask a question?" You could feel eyes on you. It was probably Jotaro's fan club hiding somewhere and glaring at you.

He huffs the smoke and looks away. "Yare yare... Just leave me alone brat."

"The only brat I see here is your edgy ass." You retorted.

It seems to strike a nerve. His scowl deepens and flicks his cigarette away, grabbing you by your collar. You look at him unfazed but ready to strike anytime. "If you don't sh-"

"Geez... You two fight like an old couple.." Kakyoin breaks you two up before any of you could get hurt. He shook his head, "And here I thought bringing Jotaro was a great idea." You laughed loudly making Jotaro glare at you.

Kakyoin sighs as you two have a glaring challenge. "If-" He spoke up and you both look at the redhead. "If the two of you don't fight for a week then I'll... I'll do whatever you say." You stared at him and grinned. Kakyoin nervously gulps at the expression you're giving him. "Sounds like a deal."

Now Jotaro doesn't care about that but you on the other hand have some great plans for the poor redhead.

"Let's go to the game shop then..." You both start to walk until you realize Jotaro was following too.

"... He's... He's coming with us?" You whisper to Kakyoin. "Ah!" He looks at you apologetically. "I...may have forgotten to tell you that I invited Jotaro to come with us..." You took a deep inhale and walked ahead. Not bothering to comment on what he just did. Since you made an agreement after all.

The entire walk was painfully awkward. You didn't talk and Jotaro doesn't usually talk so that left Kakyoin trying to engage you and Jotaro to talk to each other but you just nodded and hummed. 'Damn... I feel like Jotaro now." You snicker quietly.

The game shop didn't have many customers. There were probably around 3 and a single employee at the cashier.

Feeling giddy, you walked inside while dragging Kakyoin with you. "Holy shit..! They have the best RPG game!" Letting go of Kakyoin you ran towards the RPG section and looked at the huge selection of games.

"Damn... My allowance is gonna be dead by the end of this." You thought while you read the cover of a random game you grabbed.

Out of nowhere, you felt a warm breath hit your nape. Flinching at the feeling, you turned behind ready to hit the person with the game you were holding. "Oh." Looking up, it was just Jotaro looming behind you.

Wait a minute.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You furrowed your brows suspiciously at him. He looks at the game in your hand, bored. "I wanted to look for games too."

"Huh... You don't look like a person who plays games." He steps backward and shrugs then walks away leaving you confused. "I should just look for F-Mega..." Forgotten the weird interaction, you looked for the latest F-mega game they had.

After walking around and getting distracted by other games, you finally found F-Mega! Happy with your decision, you went to the cashier and paid. Then looked around to search for your cherry friend.

You have looked around the shop but you didn't find him, plus the shop was small so it was easy to find someone. Walking outside, hoping to see Kakyoin, you see Jotaro smoking. Waving the smoke away, you approached him. "Have you seen Kak?" He throws the cigarette and steps on it. "There was an emergency so he went home early."

"Oh." You look at him dumbfounded. "Kakyoin left you with Jotaro?! It's an emergency anyway..." You sighed and walked in the direction of your home. Surprisingly, Jotaro followed you. "What do you want?" You didn't mean to sound annoyed but it came out like that. "Making sure you don't get into trouble." Huffing, you started to walk faster but Jotaro was able to keep up since he has longer legs.

Too busy trying to get far from Jotaro, you failed to notice the crack on the pavement, making you trip. Thankfully, Jotaro was able to catch up with you. He grabs you by your waist, preventing you from facepalming the floor. "If I wasn't here, you would be eating dirt right now." He pulls you up. You pouted and mumbled. "You were the reason I ran and tripped." Good thing he didn't hear it or else he would've let you go. You straightened the creases on your clothes and quietly thanked him. He seemed to have heard that one and nodded.

Giving up on trying to outrun Jotaro, you both walk in silence. It was only the leaves rustling and the occasional birds chirping. It was surprisingly peaceful since you both didn't bicker.

When you both arrived at your home, the sun was setting down. You opened the door to your home but stopped and looked back.

Jotaro was already walking away, probably towards his home. "Oi Kujo!" You called out to him. He stops walking, not looking back. "I enjoyed that walk. Thank you." His hands were in his pockets as he looks back at you and nodded then continued his walk.

Maybe  Kujo Jotaro isn't that bad.

[yunopouts]

touch - l. jeno

hi. i re-wrote it so it's not a virgin!reader anymore. now it's reader finding out jeno is secretly kinky... anyways, sorry about the original, it was dumb of me to even have virgin!reader and breeding kink in the same work :// okay anyways i hope everyone can enjoy this one :)

request:

I just want to preface that none of the gifs i use are mine unless i clearly state so!!

→ pairing: dom!jeno x girlfriend!reader

→ genre: smut

→ warnings: unprotected sex (wrap before you tap children!!), fingering, dirty talk, mirror sex (kinda), rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, corruption kink (kinda,,,)

→ word count: 2.6k

RUN THROUGH: I went through and checked everything from top to bottom. The first part was changed in the conversation, the middle was mostly kept the same, with the exception of some edits here and there. the end was also kept the same, again only a few changes were made.

You walked into your dining room, looking to ask your boyfriend a question. Poking your head out from behind the entry way, you smiled when you saw the blue haired boy sitting at the table staring at his computer. You watched him as he huffed a tired sigh, pushing up the round glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose. Silently giggling, you straightened yourself out and made your way to the table, sitting in front of him.

“Hi baby.” He grinned at you, his eyes sparkling when they met yours. A shy smile crept on to your lips as you responded with a small 'hi'.

Minutes passed as you watched in silence while the boy switched in between typing on his computer and scribbling into his notebook. His feet tangled with yours when he stretched out his legs, the two of you starting a game of footsies, your giggling voices filling the air around you. Your feet stayed tangled, and your boyfriend started to work again, when your question from earlier popped in your head again. You looked up eagerly, watching him lift his mug to his mouth.

“Hey Jeno,”

“Yes baby?” he replied, not looking up from his work.

“You know we don’t have to be vanilla all the time, right?” you quirked a brow.

The boy choked on his coffee, frantically looking for something to wipe the dripping drink. You handed him a napkin, which he snatched out of your grip and patted his mouth dry, coughing into it. “W-what?” He took his time to slowly recover from the sudden attack. “What are you talking about? I love being v-vanilla.” The way he said it was not convincing at all, so you just blinked at him and bit back a laugh.

“Well, I the other day I was cleaning up the room and when I was organizing the desk the Swiffer hit the mouse and woke up the monitor.” You explained, looking him straight in the eye. “You left that tab open.” You emphasized the word ‘that’ and noticed how the boys body tensed at the word.

A nervous chuckle left his lips, shutting his laptop and dodged your eyes every time you tried to look at him. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“It was just porn.” You shrugged.

“Y-yeah but it was…” Jeno trailed off, trying to make ends meet. “You know.” Silence settles around you, Jeno’s aura seeming to affect it and make the situation awkward.

“Well, I’m saying that we can do what you want, all you have to do is just ask.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Wait, really?” you thought the hope in his voice made him even cuter than his already nervous self.

“Yes, of course.” You nodded with a slight smile. The boys body noticeably released the tension in his muscles, but he still seemed anxious.

With a huff, Jeno looked back into your eyes, irises darker than usual. “Um, a-alright.” He started, placing his notebook on top of his computer, moving it to the side. “Well, go… do whatever it is you need to do to prepare. Meet me in the room in five minutes.” You nodded, getting out of your chair, and headed to the bathroom. Fixing yourself up, you reassured yourself that your shower from two hours ago still had its effect, and that you were still clean. After that you brushed your teeth, flashing yourself a bright smile in the mirror once you had finished.

In the bedroom, Jeno was sitting on his side of the bed, body as still as a rock. He didn’t notice your entrance, so you waved in front of his face, which got his attention. The boy patted his lap lightly, signaling for you to sit. Complying, you didn’t want to put all your weight when you went down, but his hands shoved you on to him.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The boy glanced up at you with hesitant eyes. Sighing heavily and rolling your eyes, you took the hands that were resting lightly on your back and moved them to your ass. You scoot in closer, his eyes growing wide.

“Jeno, didn’t we just talk about this?” the question was rhetorical, but a blush creeped on to his cheeks, taking a break from your eyes. It took him a few seconds to respond, like he actually had to think about the answer.

“Understood.” His calm voice was different from what his expression said, but your upcoming commentary was forgotten when Jeno placed a hand on your neck, pulling you into a gentle kiss. His pillowy lips moved softly against your own, in a passionate manner, like they’ve done hundreds of times. Hands sliding from your neck to your jaw, his thumbs rubbing on the bone as he deepened the kiss by adding his tongue. Jeno’s touch becomes hot against your skin and your lower half starts to move back and forth on his lap, to which Jeno let out a loud groan. His actions soon become rougher, teeth now clashing together as the session grew longer and messier, and you pushed Jeno back so that he was flat against the mattress.

Your boyfriend flipped your current position, so that he was hovering atop of you, pinning your wrists above your head. With a smirk gracing your now swollen lips, you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him down to meet your core, just like he did you twenty minutes earlier. He ground himself into you while nipping at your earlobe. Moaning his name as he peppered kisses from your jaw all the way down to your exposed collar bones.

“Shirt…” you muttered. He loosened his grip on your wrists and your hands flew to the hem of his sweater, pulling up over his head and arms, throwing it somewhere in your bedroom. Jeno did the same to you, pulling off your t-shirt, exposing your guarded chest. Your hands travel up and down his chiseled stomach, muscles tightening under your touch while the boy was attacking your still covered chest, leaving markings everywhere.

Moving away from your body, he stared down at you with hard eyes. As he towered over you, thinking of how to go about this, you noticed how his expression changed from earlier; his nervous and innocent look had morphed into a dark almost threatening one. “Face the mirror for me, baby.” His voice was low.

“T-the mirror?” you stuttered, now feeling anxious. The boy nodded, jutting his head towards the full-length mirror that was your closet door. With hesitance, you shifted your body and faced your reflection. You watched Jeno through the mirror, his smirk growing as he fixated himself behind you, his bare chest pressed against your back. The boy brought his hands to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down with the help of you lifting slightly. Just like you did with his sweater, he flung your clothes across the room.

“Would you look at that.” He chuckled as he took your hand in his. Jeno lead them south, hovering them above your core. He dragged your nimble fingers along your slit, making you feel the wetness your body created. “How fast do you get wet?” he questioned, followed by a scoff. The deepness of his tone sent shivers down your spine and the feel of his skin against yours created little tingles that flowed through your body. “Someone must be excited.”

With your head against his shoulder, Jeno first stuck two in, to which you moaned loudly, closing your eyes. “Watch my fingers.” Instantly, your eyes shot open and were back on your reflection. Jeno’s mouth was right at your ear, so you could hear and feel the hot and heavy breaths that left him. In your ear the boy whispered things that made you feel dirty, in a good way. This was far from what you and he have ever done. When it came to sex, you always thought the two of you were on the same page: simple sex, nothing like what you were doing now. But that didn’t mean you weren’t open to it, obviously you were because here you are, watching yourself get finger fucked through your reflection.

“God, look at how you’re squirming.” He chuckled darkly. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, but you still look like my cockslut.”

You liked this new side of Jeno; well, it probably wasn’t new, but since he always been soft with you, it was indeed "new" in a sense. You loved the way he spoke to you, the grittiness in his voice, the way he was roughly moving his fingers inside of you. “I can’t wait to fuck you raw.” He practically growled into your ear.

“Jeno…” your breath hitched at the familiar knot of tension that had start to loosen.

“That’s it,” he eased. “cum for me.” Squeezing your eyes shut as you came on your boyfriends’ fingers. He let you grind on his hand, riding out your orgasm. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.” He ordered, taking his other hand and bringing it to your clit to rub it. When you whined, Jeno let out a laugh and curled the fingers inside you up.

“Jeno, fuck, that feels so good.” Your back arches off his chest, but he just follows your movements. His fingers move harder against your g-spot, sending shocks through your body. “Oh my god.” You repeated and repeated, on the verge of cumming again, after it barely being five minutes later. “Fuck, Jen- shit.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you and left from behind you.

Whining in annoyance, you brought your own hand and got off without him. It felt good, but not as good as when he did it. You had come down from your second high, but you were still trying to calm your breathing. You couldn’t see Jeno’s expression when he found you whining and writhing on the bed, but boy was it hot. “I can’t believe my eyes.” He laughed. “Never thought I’d see my innocent little Y/N fuck her own cunt.” Your eyes now wide open, you found the boy standing at the edge of the bed, still half clothed.

“What do you think I do when you’re at work and I’m horny.” You rolled your eyes as Jeno let out a loud laugh. “Jeno.” He brought his now dark eyes to your own, showing him on your needy expression. “Please…” you averted your gaze to the massive strain in his pants, which made Jeno scoff. He shook his head with a devilish smirk. You scrambled on your knees and undid his pants, yanking them down, along with his stained boxers.

“You wanna suck my dick?” he raised a brow when you grabbed his fully hard length. You don’t really like giving him head, since you’re not the best of it, but today was different, something sparked in you.

Cracking your mouth open, you stuck your tongue out and let his cock slide to the back of your throat. Jeno let out a low moan, slowly thrusting into your mouth, pushing your hair away from your face you wouldn’t eat it too. (DAISY INTERRUPTS: BYE WHY DID I WRITE THAT) “Fuck baby, look at you deepthroating me like the angel you are.” He jerked his hips slightly harder than before. “You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

You coughed and choked a few times, making Jeno pull out to make sure you were okay, since he knew you weren’t used to it. “That’s enough.” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, wanting him back in your mouth. “Don’t worry, there are other ways of filling you with my cum.” He winked before easily shoving you further back on the bed. Just that statement had your pussy overflowing with arousal.

Jeno split your legs apart he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your cheek. He drew his cock up and down you slit, mixing his arousal, your arousal and saliva. He teased you by bringing his cockhead to your entrance, pushing in slightly and pulling out right after. Each time Jeno did this you hummed in anticipation before you whined in annoyance, his smirk growing wider and wider by the second.

“Jesus Christ, Jeno, just fuck me already.” You glared up at him. To your request, Jeno did just that and plunged right into you. His pace wasn’t too fast but still not too slow, but he pounded into you hard. His heavy thrusts made you reach for his back, clawing at the bare skin. Jeno let out a gruff moan, reveling in the feeling of your tight walls and the stinging on his back. “Faster.” Jeno’s eyes widened, and his hips slowly gained speed, soon starting to drill into you. You moaned loudly, begging him for things that you could never say in public.

“Oh, look at my little angel, so fucking tight for me.” He clenched his teeth. “Look at what a slut you’ve turned into, begging me to fill you up with my cum. God, what have I done.” His voice grew louder as he slammed his hips against yours. He looked down at your chest, eyes landing on the jackpot, which was conveniently placed in the front. Reaching his free hand forward, he unclasped your bra, revealing your tits. Jeno’s dark eyes glowed as he watched them move with his thrusts. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. I love your pretty little pussy and how it clenches around me. God, I just want to fuck it until I get a baby in you.” You whimpered at the thought of his cum filling you.

“Do it.” You hissed. “Please Jeno, harder.” You begged for the umpteenth time that night. He pressed a kiss into your calf, plunging his cock into you at an impeccable pace.

“There’s not much more room left.” He warned. “But, fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

“Just use it all. Good god, Jeno, just please, please, please,fuck me.” You sobbed out of pleasure. Jeno growled at the request, pressing your hips down into the mattress. With his cock practically hitting the entrance of your cervix each time he moved, you felt your climax beging building up, the tension starting to feel like the type you get when going up a roller coaster, but more… pleasurable. “Soon… close… cumming.” You muttered.

“Me too, angel.” He slid his hand up your stomach, touching your soft skin. “Shit, I’m so ready to fill you up. Do you want it? Want me to fill you up nice so that you’ll be full for days? That your pussy is stuffed with my cum and can’t hold anything else?”

“Fuck yes.” Your voice was breathy. “I want it so bad. Breed me.” Jeno almost screamed at your words, his cock twitching with anticipation.

“You’re gonna look so fucking hot when you’re pregnant.” His fingers got a hold of your nipple and started to pinch it, still continuing to relentlessly ram his cock into your hole. “I’ll fuck you and fill you everyday if I have to.”

“Fuck! Jeno, Jeno, cumming.” You screamed, your back arching, that roller coaster feeling finally crashing down into your third orgasm of the night. Jeno’s hips jerked back and forth to reach his own high, not pulling a single inch of many out when he did.

Slowing his hips down, he hunched over into your nape, muttering how “fucking good” he feels and more sweet nothings into your glistening skin. Your boyfriend stayed this way, finally growing soft inside of you minutes later.

Lazily knocking your head against his, you kissed into his hair "Not so bad was it?"

A dry chuckle came from his mouth. "Let's do it again."

[hotch-stufff]

Love is Complicated

gifs by hqtchner & ncis-season-

Pairing: Hotch x reader, Gibbs x reader

Warnings!: angst, pining, kissing, fluff

Request: "well i was thinking about a criminal minds x ncis crossover, where the reader has a big crush on gibbs but then she meets hotch and she is really confused 😿" @wolviesbabes

--------

Your hand scribbled yet another word on the endless stack of paperwork that littered your desk. It really did never end. You set your pen down. You needed a break. You looked up and your eyes instantly found him. He was hunched over his desk, probably doing the same thing you were doing.

But God, did he look good doing it. Although in your opinion he looked good doing just about everything.

You noticed that about him over the past couple months on the NCIS team. You had been transfered from another similar unit in New Orleans on the recommendation of Dwayne Pride himself. Gibbs was quick to accept you to the unit, but he remained cold to you for the first couple of weeks. It wasn't until you saved him from a, for lack of better words, crazy gunman did he warm up to you.

After that, you two had gotten extremely close. So close that you developed a small crush on the man. Although, you hid it rather well. No one, atleast not to your knowledge, knew about your crush. And you intended on keeping it that way, but it was so hard when he was just sitting right in front of you, looking all handsome and just... him.

You wanted to tell him. You really did. But he was way out of your league, and you weren't even his type. But a girl could dream.

Vance suddenly came out of his office and called Gibbs up. He stood slowly and walked away. You prayed this wasn't a case. You really did not feel like dealing with a case right now.

He came back out a few moments later, a scowl on his face.

"What is it Gibbs?" You asked, he jerked his head towards Vance's office.

"He wants the team to attend an interagency gala on Saturday night." You scoffed. Of course he did. "FBI, CIA, and NCIS teams are all expected to attend. Including us." His scowled deepened at the thought of having to deal with other agencies.

"Great, just great." And you were so looking forward to a quiet weekened.

* * *

The night of the gala had arrived much quicker than expected. And of course Abby had insisted on going shopping for dresses. She herself had gotten a long black dress, with a slit. She said she would add a few things to make it more like her, and you couldn't wait to see it. You had gone with a more subtle dress. A long emerald green dress, with spaghetti straps and an open back. The front dipped slightly.

You had brought it with you to the office so you could get ready with Abby and as you were heading to the elevator to go to her floor, you heard Gibbs on the phone. Now you weren't one to eavesdrop, but you really couldn't stop yourself.

"I know, I know, it won't take long. I promise. Bye." Was he with someone else? You stood there frozen as he emerged from the room he was in.

"Hey y/n. Whatchtya doin?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh, um nothing Gibbs, thought I heard you and wanted to say bye before we left, I didnt think you would actually go to the gala tonight, so I thought I could just stop in and-" he cut you off.

"Slow down, you're rambling. You okay?" You needed to get out of there.

"Yup, just been a long day. Alright well bye." You rushed off to Abby office. Once you got there, she instantly asked what was wrong. You explained everything. Your feelings, the conversation you heard, just everything.

"Awe, y/n/n. I'm so sorry. He's stupid if he doesn't see whats right in front of him." That made you smile.

"We should get ready." You stated standing up to grab your dress.

2 hours later, you and Abby walked up stairs looking amazing if you did say so yourself. Wolf whistles were heard coming from Tony as you two walked towards the group. You rolled your eyes, catching Gibbs smirk.

His eyes dragged up and down your body, which had confused you greatly. He had never showed any interest in you before, why now? Maybe he had and was just better at hiding it.

"Well, we should get going." You nodded, you all walked out to the SUVs ready for the night ahead of you.

* * *

The gala was interesting to say the least. Each agency decided to stay away from eachother, like elementary students. Each group taking up their own circle around the room.

You had spotted a rather handsome man who you had recognized as Aaron Hotchner sitting at the FBI tables and couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him. You new you had feelings for Gibbs,, but something about this man just drew you in. You had previously met him on a conjoined case with your old team, and you had developed the smallest of crushes on the man. You never expected anything to happen, and he was only in New Orleans for about a week.

Suddenly Gibbs popped back into your head, and you huffed slightly, turning to search for him. Finding him at a table nearby, talking with a woman. You scoffed and he looked over at you.

In a moment of impulse, you tunred away and walked across the empty dance floor straight to Agent Hotchner. He looked up from his conversation as you neared his table.

"Hi, NCIS Agent Y/l/n. We worked together on the Williams case about a year back." He nodded in recognition.

"Of course. Its great to see you again agent y/l/n." He paused looking you up and down in a way you welcomed. "Can I help you with something." He asked, not unkindly at all, but rather friendly.

"I was wondering if you would like to dance." He raised an eyebrow at you. "Someone's got to break the chill in this room." He nodded and stood up slowly, his team staring on in awe. You figured he didn't do this very often.

"I would love to." He took your hand bringing you to the dance floor as another song began. You two danced for about 10 minutes before more couples began to join you. You smiled in triumph and Hotchner laughed at your face.

"What? It worked didn't it?" He smiled shaking his head.

"I suppose it did." You two began talking and laughing and just getting to know each other. You soon found yourself at a table as you continued with your conversation.

"Okay but, im just saying if Strauss is anything like Vance, they would be perfect together." He laughed at this rather loudly, catching the eyes of a few people near by.

"That would never happen. If Vance is anything like Strauss they would drive each other crazy." You giggled softly. Soon it was time to leave, and Agent Hotchner, or Aaron as he had asked you to call him, offered to walk you to your SUV where the rest of your team was waiting. They all eyed you as this strange man walked you over, handing you a card and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You had blushed profusely and walked over, getting in the car.

"So y/n, whos the hottie?" Abby began interrogating you as soon as you shut your door.

"Thats Agent Hotchner. He's the Unit Chief of the FBI's BAU." You smiled to yourself.

"Must be an ass if he's from the FBI." Gibbs remarked, another scowl gracing his face.

"He was actually quite the gentlman." Was your only response before turning to look out the window. Gibbs was the one being an ass. You had just spent the night with a wonderful man and Gibbs just had to ruin it by spouting some snarky comment that only confused you more. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

* * *

Once back at the office, Gibbs had called you to the elevator, not giving you a chance to respond. You had of course listened, and as soon as the doors shut, he had pulled the emergency button.

"What is it Gibbs?" You asked softly. He just walked closer to you, cupping your face. "What are you doing?" He leaned in slowly bringing his lips to yours.

And you had expected it to be perfect and explosive and passionate. But... it wasn't. He pulled away after only a moment.

"Hang on, let me try that again." And he leaned in once more, pressing his lips to yours. But once again, there was nothing. He pulled away.

"That was ... strange?" He asked, more to himslef than anything.

"I uh, that-that was-"

"Not what I was expecting." He finished for you.

"You know Gibbs, I've been pining over you for months, and I'm guessing you felt the same. But I think we both met someone else tonight that changed our minds." You recalled him spending the whole night side by side with the woman you had seen earlier. You smiled shyly at him. "Call that woman you were with tonight. Tell her you want to go out on a date." He smiled looking into your eyes.

"Only if you call Agent Hochie, or whatever his name was, and tell him the same." You laughed at not only his comment, but the absurdity of the situation. For the past 5 months you had been yearning for a man who ended up not being what you wanted at all. It made you think that maybe what you really wanted, what you both really wanted, was someone to love. So you latched on to the person who had become closest to you.

"I love ya y/n." He whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too Gibbs. Now go get her." He stepped out of the elevator, pulling out his phone. You did the same, pulling out Aaron's card. It rang once. Twice.

"Hotchner." You giggled at his formal greeting. Taking a deep breath before going for it.

"Hey Aaron, I was just wondering if you were up for dinner?" He smiled.

"Of course. You know, I'm really glad you called."

"Me too." And you walked out of your office that night, a date with a man you had never expected, and a smile on your face.

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Not sure how I feel about this one, but I loved the request. Let me know what you guys think!! Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.