#<- tag for whatever i pull out of my archive

[drakyions]

some animations from the ffvii charaden! id be happy to show off all animations if anyone's interested in it, right now i'm just sharing to the void for the sake of loving the random stuff i have saved. these were avatars that would do different animations depending on keypad presses on 'video'calls for japanese phones. previewed using docomo's official charaden tool, these came preloaded on the panasonic foma p900iv, aka the phone used in advent children!

viewed through pvmicro, the way these models have sort of a bare-bones psuedo-3d thing going on is really neat! i'd love to learn how to emulate the style someday.

edit: all individual animations are up now! here's cloud, tifa & aerith ♥

[qodlysinz]

Behind That Mask

—The Day of the Jackal—

Pairing: Alexander “Jackal” Duggan x Reader

Summary: The Jackal can’t do much without the help of his trusty hacker—who incidentally flirts with him any chance she got. Jackal is displeased.

Tags: second person pov, female pronouns used, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, fighting, swearing, light angst (like very light, blink and you’d miss it), heavy flirting, reader is a hacker and former MI6 agent, italics is dialogue through the comms, reader’s nationality isn’t mentioned so imagine whatever you want

A/N: The Jackal has like no fanfics and this idea came to me in a dream while I was watching the show. It’s very Penelope Garcia and the BAU but a bit more toned down because not everyone is like Miss PG 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ this idea was gonna be an oc initially but I decided the feed the people instead of let it collect dust in my archives like my ocs usually do

You click your pen meticulously as you examine the schematics of the building Jackal was currently in. You toggled one of the buttons, triggering the body heat sensor. A soft chuckle emitted from you as you saw Jackal’s figure carefully stalking through the building.

“People on your six,” you told him, setting the pen aside, “there’s a closet to your left, go in there till they pass.”

“Too many?” He guessed, his voice coming through the comms. You nodded, though he couldn’t see it, “bingo. About five people. Looks like three of them are carrying guns, and you don’t want to get into a gunfight.”

Jackal’s figure slipped into the closet, his breathing heavy as he waited for your command.

“So.” You started, resting your face in your hands as you stared blissfully at the screen. You heard Jackal sigh. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Jackal was quiet for a moment, but you saw his hand come to rub his temples through the screen. You rolled your eyes. “I have a job to do. No time for your incessant need to try and woo me.” He remarked.

“It’s not incessant,” you argued, “it’s called testing how well you handle distractions, J.” You tapped the side of your head with your finger, brows raised suggestively.

“Obviously I handle them well, otherwise I’d drop you.” He muttered under his breath. “Is it clear?”

You waited for a moment, humming, “not yet, they’re chatting, hold on for a bit.” You replied affirmatively. “Are you saying I’m too good to kill? Wow, what a compliment from your stoic self.”

“Didn’t say kill.” Jackal refuted. You nodded, letting out a soft laugh. Your eyes followed the men as they began to walk off. “You’re good to go.”

Jackal crept out of the closet and walked on through the building. “Where’s the target?” He asked.

You searched through the building, humming a quiet tune as you did so, “floor above you, room in the far-right corner.” You nodded.

You weren’t exactly sure what brought you to this. Helping the famed Jackal get his hits through. You hadn’t even seen his face—at least not without the ridiculous disguises. Not even in the three years you’ve been accomplices. He didn’t trust you yet, but that wasn’t much of a problem to you. If you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t even trust your own family.

Jackal always carried a phone with him; not one he needed to dispose of regularly like he used to. You had been kind enough to rig the phone he had to not be able to be used to track him or the people he was calling. Meaning, whenever you got a call from your lovely, emotionally constipated hitman, it wouldn’t even trace to you. Truly amazing handiwork, if you said so yourself.

A loud gunshot was heard through the comms. “Target down.” He spoke gruffly. His tone was always a bit more choked whenever he dropped a target, but he wasn’t the type to get all mushy and come to you of all people about it.

“Quick exit down the fire escape. Pull the fire alarm as you go, the craze will let you get away without any attention drawn.” You said, shifting to your next computer screen as you heard a ping. “The money is being wired to your account as we speak, Mary Poppins.”

Jackal grumbled at that, the fire alarm blaring as you heard the echo of his steps. “I’ll get back to you when I’m in the clear.” He stated. “Remember our protocol.”

“Roger.” You cut contact and stared at the picture. It was a composite drawing of the Jackal, or, at least what they thought he looked like. It could not have been more far off, and it made you chuckle. You pressed a button, clicking your keys as you sent it to his phone with an amused (and sarcastic) ‘wow I finally saw your face!!’

There had been numerous Jackal facial compositions over the years, and somehow they were all utterly terrible and looked nothing like Jackal, even if you hadn’t seen his true face, you knew he looked nothing like that. It was laughable, really.

Though, each time they popped up, you worked your magic and had them destroyed or lost to the web as a meme some Redditor (aka you on an alternative account) came up with for a random thing made with AI. No one took AI seriously. You didn’t want to risk him getting caught. Even if the sketches were shit.

The first time you ever got involved with Jackal was when he had apparently heard of your ‘impressive work’, as he’d say in that smooth voice of his. You were just some nobody working at a tech company, and you were only twenty-nine at the time in a small apartment in New York. The fact Jackal had gone international just to meet you was a bit flattering, but he was very intimidating and sort of reminded you of Batman if he was skinny and lean. Maybe more like Robin, actually. He was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a surgical mask to hide his face, which had felt like overkill to you, if you were being honest. It was summer, for christ’s sake.

Nonetheless, Jackal was… somewhat kind. He wouldn’t threaten you. He did at some point, and you had burst into tears—he gave up and hasn’t done it since. You’d think you’d be used to that type of shit in New York.

Since then, you and Jackal have been long distance friends… kind of? You lived in Paris now, since it’d be easier for Jackal to get to you without flying a whole ten hours (which was freakishly far, you wondered where he was in his downtime). Leaving New York was for your own benefit too, of course. You had no family there, and your friends were under the impression you got an amazing job opportunity. Unbeknownst to them, that job opportunity was helping an underground sniping legend. Who you happened to have fallen for a few months into said job. His accent is really what did it, honestly.

After a few more weeks from the last job, Jackal had another one, and you were his confidant yet again. Probably your favorite part of it all, if you were honest. Getting to playfully flirt with him was the highlight of your day, even if it ticked him off a little bit.

This job was in Paris, so, to your delight, Jackal would be on site near you to prepare. You had insisted he stay with you, but, of course, he was as untrusting as a cat and outright refused.

And yet, in the late night, he used the very same overkill disguise when you two first met, and showed to your doorstep.

“Jack, what a surprise.” You said with a snort, opening your door wider for him to enter.

“Police were outside the hotels and Airbnb’s nearby.” He replied gruffly. You chuckled, “they’re on high alert because you’ve been taking more hits lately.” You shrug. “Don’t you think it’s annoying that they couldn’t give less of a fuck if it was a random person than if it was a big name? It’s so pathetic.” You mutter, mostly to yourself as you head towards your kitchen. “Oh, no. A corrupt fascist got popped in the head.” You added sarcastically.

“PR.” Was all he said, dropping his bag on your table, hesitantly removing his cap, a subtle glance at you, skeptic. You cracked a glimpse in his direction. “Oh, you’re a redhead. No wonder you’re so freckly!” You laughed.

Jackal scoffed. “I’m not a redhead.” He denied. You rolled your eyes in amusement, “so you’re just an average white man?” You joked.

“What’re the schematics for the opera house?” He changed the subject and tussled his hair, likely having been in his cap for a while. You got the memo—you were playful but not an idiot, you knew when he wanted to talk business—and nodded and went to your computer setup, muttering to yourself as you pulled it up on your screen. “So, this opera singer really pissed your guy off, huh?” You asked Jackal, going to the main auditorium part of the building.

“I don’t really care.” Jackal leaned over the desk, his hand resting in the back of your chair. As you went through the schematics, he perked up, “hey.”

“Hey~!” You grinned cheekily. He shot you a look of impatience. “No, hey, as in look.” He pointed at the screen. “Will you indulge me just this once?” You asked quietly, but followed Jackal’s finger to the top of the auditorium where a large ring that was mostly inhabited by the richest of the rich was set. But just above that, was the perfect vantage point for Jackal to take the shot.

You hummed, “nice eye.” You praised, looking at him with a grin. “Sure you can take it?”

He huffed at that. “‘Course I can.” He retorted, “show me what it looks like on the inside.”

“So full of demands.” You tut, shaking your head, “one day, you know, I will worm my way into your circle.”

He chuckled dryly, “somehow, I highly doubt that.”

“Why’s that?” You rose a brow, spinning your chair to face him fully. He set his hand on the arm of your chair, looking closely at you. “Because I know you were an MI6 agent.”

You blinked, staring at him. “I wiped that from every document you could get your hands on…?”

“You’re not the only one good with computers.”

You scoffed as you shook your head. “You’re such a dick, you know that?” You zoomed into the building, a glower in the direction of Jackal.

“You should consider yourself lucky enough to even know me as you do.” Jackal stated and spun your chair back to face the screen, wordlessly telling you to get back to work. “Oh, believe me, I do. And you should consider yourself lucky to even have me on your side. You’ve never even been in the vicinity of another agent. And you’ve got me to thank.”

He paused for a moment before sighing. “Thank you.” He spoke with an oddity, one you didn’t really pick up on until you spoke.

“You’re welcome.” The smile you fostered dropped, stopping in your tracks as it hit you. He noticed and looked at you, his brows furrowed. A solemn look made its way onto your face as you turned to meet his gaze. “Why can’t I ever tell when you’re being sincere, Jackal?”

“Because I don’t want you to know.” He replied stiffly. You opened your mouth to speak, rubbing your nape as you turned back over to continue your work. “I won’t turn on you, you know. I’m better than that. You don’t need a stupid mask to shield yourself from me.”

“Anyone who knows me is in deliberate danger. Your… assets… are special. You getting hurt would be a waste. And we both know I don’t trust you.”

“But I trust you. I don’t know why, exactly, but I do.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why? Because you think you can dictate what I can and can’t feel? I don’t know your name, where you live, why you do what you do… but I trust you, because if you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already.” You didn’t turn to talk to him, you just did what you needed to.

Jackal let out a breath, one of disbelief, “like I said, killing you would be a waste. Your assets are useful.”

You clenched your hand around your mouth, jaw clenched. The same song and dance that happened annually at this point, but this time you didn’t reply. You breathed out through your nose. Screw it, this moron needed a reality check, you didn’t care if it rarely ever got through to him. You hoped it would eventually. “Existing is going to get pretty fucking tiring if you pretend to be different people every second of every day. You may be a damn good sniper, but even you have limits, Jackal. Don’t test them, don’t be an ass, and, for fuck’s sake, stop being an idiot!”

He blinked, staring at you. He hesitated, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. The words died on his tongue, all he did was just stare and give a slow nod. “Fine.” He muttered. “I’ll let my guard down… slightly.”

“Good.” You huffed.

“Good.” He agreed.

[jj-one]

STRAY KIDS + WHEN YOU’RE BUSY AND THEY CRAVE YOUR ATTENTION !

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: skz x f!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, nipple play, fingering, exhibitionism, voyeurism, marking, sexting, sending nudes, piv, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap ur willy), masturbation, oral (f receiving), dry humping, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, spanking, there is probably more but i’m too lazy to write them all words: 4.4k

[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !

BANG CHAN. It was finals week, aka your personal hell. You were always super nervous about tests and if you didn’t score over an 80% that may as well be a failure to you. You sighed as you opened yet another textbook to read, your dickhead professor thought it would be a good idea to pile more homework on top of the fact knowing you all needed to study. Your major was biochemical engineering so you shouldn’t have been too shocked by all this intense workload. As you were sitting on the bed you heard a noise come from the door, looking to the left of you to see Chan coming inside. You don’t really put much thought into it though since you see him literally everyday and you were just really focused on studying right now. That’s when Chan starts to come up behind you, rubbing your shoulders and planting a kiss to your cheek.

“Hiii y/n, I’m back!” He says cheerfully, “I couldn’t wait to see you baby,” he proceeds to try and pry the textbook out of your hands so you can give him your full, undivided attention but you pull it back.

“Sorry babe but I really, really need to study right now.” You tell him with an exhausted look on your face. You’ve been studying for only 2 and a half hours but it feels like the entire day.

Chan looks at you and puts his arm around you, “You look so tired sweetie, why don’t you let me give you a massage?” He asks, already starting by wrapping his hands back on your shoulders.

You loved this man dearly, he just came back home from an 8 hour shift at work but is still offering to give you massages and help you out when you’re stressed. You want to tell him no and that you seriously need to focus back on studying but the intrusive thoughts were slowly winning. Ultimately you gave in to Chan’s desires and he gave you a gentle massage. The massage started off pure at first with no intention of going any further but then his hands slipped a little too far and came in contact with your nipple. He noticed you weren’t wearing a bra underneath so he slips his hand through the opening of your t-shirt, light moans were now leaving your mouth from his touch.

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day babe,” Chan softly whispers while pinching your nipples, bringing his other hand down to your thigh and gently caressing it. Chan has always been good at being a distraction for you and his cock is definitely what you need instead of reading about the Principles and Techniques of Molecular Physics.

LEE KNOW. Saturday nights were the best, you had no work and got to do whatever you wanted for the whole day. You weren’t much of an outgoing kind of person so you chose to stay in and have your boyfriend Minho come over and be lazy with you. You were wrapped up in your cozy sherpa blanket watching your favorite kdrama season finale, you and Minho both loved kdramas but you got way too into them. Your eyes have been glued to the show since Minho got there and you only spoke about three sentences to him. He’s sitting on the couch next to you and he’s not as remotely interested in the show as you are, he keeps looking around the room and sneaking glances at you from time to time.

He can’t stop noticing how cute you look today, you were wearing very light makeup and had messy hair. He thought you looked so adorable in your current state, just in awe of your natural beauty. He wraps his arm tightly around you and tries to give you a kiss, but you quickly pull away from him so you can focus back on the TV, not trying to miss anything. Minho gets visibly upset by this, he wants to give you his affection yet you’re currently denying it. He tries one more time to kiss you but you continue to keep pulling away to watch the show. That’s when he decides he’s had enough and grabs the remote to turn off the TV, causing you to get frustrated with him.

“What the hell Minho?!” You say in confusion, you were getting so close to knowing who the girl’s father finally was.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he just starts roughly kissing you, pushing you down on the couch and hovering over your body. He pulls away leaving you breathless, then proceeds to nibble on your earlobe, dragging his tongue further down to lightly suck on your neck, touching a certain spot that makes you inhale sharply. He brings one of his hands to your stomach, rubbing it gently. Beginning to toy with the hem of your sweatpants and wants nothing more than for them to be off.

He was almost going to give in to that idea but a new one came to mind, an even more sinister thought. He grins as he continues rubbing down your thigh, you want him to wipe that smirk off his face so badly because you have no idea what he’s up to. Wondering what he could possibly be thinking about right now. Minho brings his fingers to your clothed heat, sliding them inside the sweatpants and starts rubbing your clit through your panties. You moan for him as you close your eyes, feeling the friction. You buck your hips in the air so you can feel more of him, but Minho grips your hips and holds them firmly in place.

“No, stop. No moving ‘til I say so,” Minho says sternly, giving your clothed pussy a little slap as he looks at you. “Since you’re so willing to ignore me, I get to tell you what to do from now on.”

CHANGBIN. You’ve been cleaning the entire house preparing for your parents to come over for dinner. You wanted to make sure that everything was perfectly spotless and the amount of cleaning you did today could account for your whole lifetime. You were cleaning the stove and just as you were about to grab another clean sponge you see Changbin with a whole box full of donuts from Krispy Kreme.

“How’s it goin’ babe?” Changbin asks while setting the donuts onto the table, he sees you wearing an apron and giant yellow gloves, “looks like you’ve been doing some serious, hard labor!”

“I’ve been cleaning for 5 hours now..” You say with an exhausted look on your face, “I haven’t even finished cleaning the stove yet.”

“Who cares about the stove y/n,” Changbin says, chuckling at your frustration about needing everything to be neat and tidy.

“I’m serious Binnie, I need to clean everything and make sure it’s all perfect!” You tell him while pouting.

“Why don’t you take a break babe.” He suggests out of concern, grabbing your hands to take your gloves off and sets them aside. He slowly brings your body up against the wall behind you, kissing you passionately. He must have been wanting you all day by the way he was hungrily kissing you, the man was sucking on your face for dear life, exploring the depths of your mouth as both your tongues were intertwined. He takes off your apron and grips his hands around your waist while your leg wraps around him, he held you so securely.

As things got more heated, and all your clothes were off, he aligned himself inside you. Your hands were snaked around his neck as you desperately move your hips to feel his cock, feeling every bit of his thrusts in you. Letting out a high-pitched moan as you grab a fistful of his hair and scream his name. Your legs grew weak with each and every stroke Changbin gives you, feeling like you’re going to faint. He continues pounding into you like no tomorrow and you hold tightly onto his shoulders for support. His skin was sticky and sweaty from all the work he’s putting into fucking you, his face looked super focused as he was hitting all the right spots. He was fucking all your stress away at this point and you were feeling so good. You feel yourself coming to your peak as he thrusts into your dripping heat, you’re seeing stars at this point. The harder his strokes were getting, the faster you were to reaching your climax.

“Mmm…gonna cum!” You cry out in pleasure, slowly losing your grip on him as you slip from his grasp. Changbin swiftly picks you up and pins you harder into the wall, making sure you don’t go anywhere by fully pinning his body up against yours. You feel so connected to each other in this very moment as you’re both about to cum, both letting out a string of moans in unison. You both reach your highs together, dizzy as your orgasm washes over you, feeling his cum leaking out of your cunt and dripping down to your leg. You just spent the whole day cleaning and now you have to get cleaned up before your parents come in approximately 30 minutes.

HYUNJIN. It was a long day at work, you were about 6 hours in and you already wanted to end it all. You work at a clothing store and on this particular day for some reason everyone and their mom wanted to come shopping. You’ve been working the register nonstop and you had yet to take a break, you were so busy that you forgot to even take one. You asked one of your coworkers if they could cover for you while you go on lunch and they said yes. You were so excited to finally be able to get to sit down and eat. As you sat in the break room you checked your phone for any missed messages, you see that you have a bunch of missed texts from the new guy you’re seeing. Hyunjin’s name is plastered on your phone and you check the messages straight away, eyes growing wide at what was shown before you. Hyunjin sent you a string of messages:

‘Hey y/n, what’s up?’ [1:15 pm]

‘Imyyy’ [1:25 pm]

‘Wyd? Are you at work?’ [1:42 pm]

‘Yea you’re prob at work :P’ [2:26 pm]

‘I’m a little horny lol’ [2:41 pm]

‘I want youuuu’ [3:02 pm]

He then proceeds to send you a couple shirtless pics of him in bed and a short video of him stroking his erect cock through his boxers. You quickly look around to see if anyone would be able to notice and you don’t see anyone else in the break room besides you. That’s when you open the video fully to see the rest, quickly get turned on as your wetness is only growing. You ran to the bathroom so you can send a photo back, snapping a quick pic of your boobs under your shirt and telling him how wet that video made you at work. You love that he now comes to you for when he feels needy, you like that he craves your attention while you’re gone. He sends you another message saying how much badly he wants to fuck you and he can’t to pick you up from work. You smile at that and tell him you only have 2 more hours to go.

You realize it’s time to get back to work and now all you can think about is that damn video Hyunjin sent you. The way he was stroking his cock all nice and slow made you want to be there to give him even more pleasure. You were walking around all day with wet and sticky panties since you came a little bit from fingering yourself in the bathroom to the video. You couldn’t wait to bounce on Hyunjin’s cock all night after you get off work.

HAN. This was now the fifth dress you tried on and you still haven’t figured out a style you liked yet. You were getting frustrated but you weren’t going to let your pickiness get you down from shopping. You were at the mall with your boyfriend Han and as much as he hated shopping he liked to see you try on the pretty dresses for him so it was a win-win. You go to a different store now and you check out those dresses, making a beeline for the pink ones since that was your favorite color. You check out all the various designs and ask Han which ones he liked best, he didn’t really give much input and just picked the shortest one for you.

You gave him a playful side eye and put the dresses you didn’t like back, heading over to the dressing room so you can try everything on. As you were trying on the dresses, Han was sitting on a bench outside the door, texting all his homies. He soon started to notice how long it’s taking you in there and although you were busy trying on dresses he was getting tired of sitting here and waiting for what seemed like an eternity. He sighs as he figures out what to do, but he ends up deciding to knock on your dressing room door. You don’t reply but he can hear stuff rustling from the inside so he knocks again and tells you it’s just him.

“Uh… I think I need help,” you tell him reluctantly, he’s not sure what you need help with but he comes in anyway. He sees you standing in the dressing room with your hands in the air and the dress halfway up your body, he starts to laugh at how you were stuck in it.

“This isn’t a laughing matter, please help get this damn thing off of me!” You whine, and he begins to unzip the dress from the back, releasing you from its tight grip. You feel like you can finally breathe once again and slip the dress off of you, now completely naked in front of Han. You were only wearing your skimpy g-string and you had your nipples pierced which Han loved about you. He looks you up and down, licking his lips as if he was about to destroy you. The only thought in his head right now was to kiss you, so he grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours, moving some of your hair out the way. You kiss him back but harder and even more passionately, letting him fondle your boobs and play with your piercing. As he toys with your nipples he looks at you with pure lust, his eyes were all hazy and he looked nothing but in love with you. He started kissing your chin and licked the side of your neck, making you get all wet and worked up for him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this right here baby,” you tell Han as he continues roaming all over your body.

“Doesn’t that make you wanna do it even more though?” He says mischievously, sucking on your neck and giving you small hickies. You knew the chances of getting caught were very high but at this moment, you didn’t really seem to care. All you wanted right now was Han and that’s all that was on your mind. His hands slid down between your legs, spreading your pussy lips with his fingers and coating them with your essence. Your wetness was leaking down to your thighs and it took everything in you not to scream from Han’s touch. He inserts two fingers in your tight little hole and goes in and out slowly, you press your lips together trying not to make a sound, so he covers your mouth.

“Shhh… quiet babe,” He whispers into your ear.

FELIX. It’s not secret to Felix that you were a workaholic, you often immersed yourself in your work a little too much. He knows you are an independent woman that enjoys the freedom of working but at the same time he really wishes you’d give that same energy towards him sometimes. You traveled a lot for work and although you two live together, it still puts a strain on your relationship being apart for long periods of times. Felix loves to be around his lover and the fact you are always so busy with work makes him want to shower you with even more love and affection when he sees you. You were gone on another usual business trip but this time it was for a week, that was the longest you’ve gone for work and it was driving him insane. Everyday he thought of you and he would text you little things that he saw randomly throughout the day that reminded him of you. You always appreciated how much Felix adored you and your work ethic, he loved you for you.

The day you came back home from work Felix came to you with open arms, he was more than excited to see you again and all he wanted for the past week was the attention of his beautiful lover.

“I’ve missed you so so much baby,” Felix says whilst giving you the biggest hug, his body was so warm and you melted right into him. You gave him a kiss and he moves you both over to the couch, pulling away from kissing you for a second with a weird grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, wondering what he’s thinking in that head of his.

“I got you a little something, I’ll be right back,” he quickly runs to your shared room and comes back with a black box in his hand.

“What’s this?” You ask curiously, holding the box up to examine what it could be.

“Just open it, you’ll be surprised.”

You do as you’re told and open the box, you see a purple velvet bag and you open to see what’s inside. It was a vibrator, it had multiple settings and looked very high quality and expensive. You instantly blushed as you held the item in your hand, looking up at Felix so he can explain what’s going on.

“I wanted to get something to relieve your stress..” he continues “because you’re always so busy and stuff, y’know.”

You smile at the naughty gift your boyfriend gave you, giving him another kiss and thanking him.

“Want to use it on me now?” You ask, knowing that he’ll say yes to you in a heartbeat. Felix’s eyes light up like a kid in a candy store and he agrees without hesitation. He sits next to you on the couch with the toy in his hand and you’re now making out. As one thing leads to another, you end up naked lying on your back with your legs spread wide out for him. He has the toy on one of the highest settings and you’ve squirted about three times for him already.

“Come on baby, you can give me another. Just one more,” Felix says demandingly, having too much fun with this toy.

You spring your head back as you feel the toy in your soaking wet entrance, you don’t know how much more of this you can take. Your legs were violently shaking and the couch was soaked with your juices, you felt like you didn’t have anything left in you. Felix keeps fucking the toy in and out of you making you scream out for him, he palms himself through his pants as he does it.

“I never want you to be away from me again y/n,” Felix’s deep voice rasps as he pumps the toy into you deeper, “I mean it this time.”

SEUNGMIN. You were laughing hysterically as you were scrolling through TikTok, you’ve been glued to your phone for hours at this point. You showed Seungmin, who was sitting next to you on his bed yet another TikTok that he probably wouldn’t think is funny. You put the screen up to his face to show him the video and he looks but doesn’t really seem that interested. You tell him how funny you think the video is and he just shrugs his shoulders.

“You know, I’d rather have you shoved in my face rather than a phone.” Seungmin says to you.

‘Ok boomer’ you think to yourself, not wanting to actually say it incase he gets offended. You decide to just ignore his comment and go back to watching hilarious TikToks. Seungmin starts to get bored and he when he gets bored he becomes bratty. You hear him whine a little bit, looking up from your phone to see him pouting and all you want to do is give him a kiss.

“C’mere,” You command for him to come closer, he quickly does so looking like a lost puppy. He plants a chaste kiss to your lips, then begins to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. He slips a hand under your tank top and lightly squeezes your boob. You sigh as you feel him innocently brush past your nipples, then he trails some more kisses down your stomach. Once he makes his way down to your lower body, he quickly takes off your pants with ease. Teasing your clothed pussy a little bit, watching as a wet spot starts to appear from the outside, he circles your clit and starts to sniff you.

“You smell good baby,” Seungmin compliments, finally taking off your panties and tossing them somewhere on the bed. He kisses the inside of your thighs and feels the warmth of your skin on his lips. He loves every inch of you and he wants to take his time with you. Flicking his tongue on your clit and you hiss at the feeling, you want him to fuck you with his tongue. He licks a nice long stripe across your wet folds, staring up at you while doing so, your phone still in your hand the whole time. Seungmin brought his head up more to face you, “keep looking at your phone while I eat you out babe, pretend like I’m not even here.”

You comply with his instructions, continuing to watch TikToks like normal and Seungmin goes back to devouring your pussy like the good boy he is.

JEONGIN. It was a very nerve wrecking day for you, you were meeting Jeongin’s parents for the first time today. You put on your most expensive Dior perfume and prettiest heels to meet his mom since Jeongin told you she was very into fashion and can tell when girl’s wear cheap perfume. You wanted to impress this woman as much as possible since this was definitely going to be the man you wanted to marry someday. Jeongin reassures you the whole day that she was going to love you regardless,

“Even if you wore perfume from the Dollar Tree she’d still like you!” He tries to give reassurance. You don’t believe that’s true but when you get to his mom’s house you meet her and the rest of his family. His dad was super nice and everyone was very welcoming towards you. You were actually shocked by how chill and laid back everyone was, you felt bad for assuming that they would be mean to you. Jeongin’s mom was the last person you met, when you met her she came off as a little timid but then she started to warming up to you once you started having a lot of things in common.

She was really sweet and super funny, you now know why Jeongin is such a charming guy. You see Jeongin come up to you so he can pull you away from his mom for a bit but his mom brushes him off to tell him she wasn’t finished talking. He walks away with a defeated look on his face and you continue talking with his mom. When the food is ready everyone gathers at the table to eat and you sit beside Jeongin, his mom was across from you both. You were busy for most of the day talking with his family and getting to know everyone. He wanted to be with you but he couldn’t even get the chance, feeling left out in the conversation. You feel your phone vibrate from the table and you pick it up to see who it is, seeing that it’s from Jeongin but you’re confused because he’s sitting right next to you. You turn towards him to ask him why he just texted you but he puts his finger to his mouth to tell you it’s a secret. You place your phone under the table to look at the message,

‘Come meet me in the bathroom upstairs by the laundry room ;)’

You instantly blush from reading that text and try to hide your flustered expression. You look at him and nod your head to signal that you understand. Jeongin shoots his head up and tells his parents who were across the table from him that he needs to be excused to go to the bathroom. You shoot yourself in the foot thinking about what excuse you can come up with so you both don’t look sketchy.

“Sorry please excuse me I have to take this important call for my job,” you quickly say to his parents as you head over to where you’re supposed to go.

You meet Jeongin in the bathroom where he told you to and you went straight to heavily making out. He grabs your ass and spanks it lightly, “How long you think we can be in here before they start to notice?” You ask, his lips now glued to your neck.

“I dunno, I honestly don’t really give a fuck.” He says bluntly, turning you around to face the sink and the mirror, pressing his bulge against your ass. He starts grinding his dick against you slowly, kissing your neck and running his fingers down your body. He lifts up your dress and drags his cock to rub against your clothed cunt, you lowly moan his name and he smiles. He’s about to fuck you so hard against this sink all the while his parents not having a clue where you two went.

[paceprompting]

ornament of christmas past

written for ‘ornament’ | wc: 857 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-canon era & post season 4, toddler steve, gift-giving, cute shenanigans

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Steve went to a public preschool for two whole weeks.

After a termite infestation and a backlog in the exterminator’s schedule, all the children were temporarily transferred to the only other preschool in Hawkins. Being right before the winter holiday, even Steve’s father didn’t bother throwing a fit.

Steve didn’t remember much about the place. Just under five-years-old, not that surprising. He didn’t remember much about the private preschool either, except the bland health crackers they fed at snack.

But he did remember the holiday party the staff had thrown the last day before break. Sugary cake with red and green icing, classic songs on repeat, and a gift exchange of ornaments they’d made a few days before.

Steve had already given his away to a blonde girl he’d played with a couple of times. He’d made a foam snowflake covered in glitter and threaded with a green ribbon.

No one had given him anything.

But that was okay. The kids from the public daycare had little idea who he was, and he wasn’t likely to ever see them again to remember them when he grew up.

The party ended, and all that was left was waiting for the parents and nannies to pick them up.

Another kid sidled up next to him, bumping his shoulder. He ignored it, assuming that everyone’s puffy jackets were to blame for the jostle.

Then the kid bumped him again.

He’d turned to look with a frown his face, and found this wide brown eyes staring right at him. The kid’s head was shaved, dark hair barely growing back in.

“What?” he asked.

“You don’t have a present.”

Matter-of-fact, no room for questions.

“I don’t,” Steve agreed. He didn’t really remember the kid much from those two weeks, if he had ever met the boy before that moment at all.

Whatever reason the boy had, Steve never learned. A man’s voice called toward the crowd—probably the boy’s name, since his attention was pulled over by it—and the boy shoved one of the plastic bauble ornaments into Steve’s hands.

He’d barely kept from dropping it before the boy had run off.

Steve turned the ornament over in his hands. The entire inside had been coated in red glitter with ‘Mery Crismas’ painted across the front in black paint. Or, that was the best Steve could make out, with half the paint streaked across the front.

When winter break was over, Steve went back to the private preschool his parents paid a few thousand in tuition for.

Steve never saw the boy again.

“Where did you get this?”

Steve glanced up from digging into a box of decorations at the sound of Eddie’s voice. Found him turning around a bauble ornament in his hands, catching flashes of red between his fingers.

He extended his hand toward Eddie. “Let me see.”

Eddie bounded across the haphazard living room, half-decorated and the floor scattered with boxes, and took a seat beside Steve on the couch. He bounced slightly on the sofa, curls swatting Steve on the shoulder.

He handed over the ornament.

Somehow, the closure at the top of the plastic bubble had stayed on nearly two decades, keeping the red glitter trapped inside. The painted words on the outside had fared nearly as well, chipping off just a bit on the edges of the letters.

“Had this since preschool. Some exchange thing. Some boy gave it to me.” Steve gave the ornament back.

Eddie quirked up the corner of his mouth. “Some boy have a name?”

“I was only there two weeks. Never saw him again.” Steve shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of a four-year-old from my past.”

“Oh, I know I don’t need to be jealous,” Eddie said brightly. He stood from the couch and headed to the bare pine tree by the window.

Steve sat back on the couch, his hands braced on his knees. “You do?”

“Yeah,“ Eddie answered plainly.

He selected a branch right in the center of the tree, facing toward Steve, and hooked the ornament carefully in place. He tapped it with his fingernail, and then aimed a mischievous grin at Steve.

“Considering it’s mine,” he said.

Steve raised a brow high. “You remember an ornament you made in preschool?”

“Well, Wayne remembers me talking his ear off about a boy from the fancy school named Steve around then. Said I should give him a gift for Christmas. Still likes to remind me of it.”

“So your game plan was to shove my present at me and then book it?” Steve chuckled when Eddie shrugged, a pink blush glowing across his cheeks. “And that was better than just talking to me?”

“Well,” Eddie drawled out, walking a back and forth path across the rug.

Steve’s gaze followed him as Eddie walked slowly back toward the couch, his dark eyes fixed on Steve underneath his bangs. He easily moved his hands out of the way for Eddie to climb onto his lap, knees on either side of Steve’s thighs.

Eddie cocked his head, curls falling over his shoulder as he said, “Had to mark my claim, didn’t I?”

[0viraptoraskblog]

Do you think it's okay to write fanfics for btd, I really want to but I'm scared.

Also is there a summary to Lawrence's past? I still can't understand much about him but he's my favorite..

Absolutely!! I know it can be intimidating, especially for a media like BTD, but it’s totally ok! Fan fiction is something people do for fun, or to share with others in the fandom. There’s no standards for how ‘good’ it has to be, or what it has to be about— you can write whatever you want! I’m sure there’s many people in the fandom (myself included) that would welcome and support new writers, but you don’t have to post what you write. If you’re more comfortable, you could just write for yourself :)

As for Lawrence, I’ll give a quick summary:

Lawrence was always seen as the weird kid; he knew he was ‘different’ almost his whole life. He didn’t feel the disgust at dead things that most people do, and often played with/looked at animal corpses like roadkill because he found the bodies interesting.

When Lawrence was a child, he drowned in the lake behind his parents house. He didn’t breathe for hours afterwards and was presumed dead— until he suddenly came back. We know that this was when he first visited the River, where things go when they die. He somehow found a way back (not intentionally, he meant to stay) to the regular world. His family called it a miracle. Lawrence on the other hand, started to get even more distant. He concluded that what he saw was the real world, and this world was some kind of dream/fake. His pull towards dead things and overall ‘weird’ habits only got worse from then on. He became more emotionally distant as well.

His parents heavily disapproved. They were very focused on appearances, and thought of Lawrence as a disappointment. They forced him to attend therapy sessions, which didn’t work, and even pulled him out of school to homeschool him for a few years. Law didn’t do well in school. He hated being forced to socialize and got bullied a lot for his actions/interests. He ended up dropping out before he could finish high school.

Lawrence did have two sisters, twins named Lily and Laurel. He was never super close with them, but they were probably the only actual friends he had in childhood. He only distanced from them by assuming they felt the same judgment that everyone else did, and very rarely talks to them now.

More canon info on him can be found under the “btd archive” tag on my page ^^

[kittynugg]

hi i wrote some stangst

forgst

words: 1,737

p.s: REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!! credit to my pal @empressofsamoyeds (soorry for the tag) for the idea! ALSO DO NOT TAG THIS AS SHIP CONTENT. THIS IS NOT FOR YOU IF YOU SHIP THEM.

Stan stepped out of the shower, shuddering as the cold air hit his skin. Like every other time he showered he was quick to towel himself off and get dressed in the first clothes he could get his hands on. So.. the clothes he’d been wearing for the past month, now? They smelled. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

The mirror was fogged up as he tied up his damp hair, but he could still see just enough of what he was doing to get it done. 

He stared at his blurry reflection. When he reached to wipe the condensation off of the surface he hesitated, his expression somehow going more blank than that numbness he’d been used to for years. That was.. Funny. He kinda looked like Ford with his hair up like that and the mirror all foggy.

No, he really looked like him.

That familiar empty feeling washed over him as he looked into the mirror, his brain filling in the blanks made by the distorted surface. A pair of glasses. A coat. The haunted look of a guy who’d seen things that shouldn’t even be possible in his eyes.

It took him a while to tear his attention away, maybe a couple of minutes, but once he did he rubbed the sting out of his eyes and left the bathroom. His “walk” had become more of a trudge in the past few weeks. He did whatever that was down the hall. Something about almost seeing his face made his feet even heavier, made the decision to get up that morning even more regrettable.

But it also gave him this weird resolve to keep going.

Maybe if he didn’t kill himself he could actually see that face. Alive, safe, maybe even happy. 

He kicked open the door to the office or study he was staying in, announcing in a sitcom-y voice, “honey, I’m home!” Then he put his hands on his hips with a distant grin. “Oh, wait! I don’t have a wife! Or a husband! I’m all alone and nobody fuckin’ loves me because the only person who ever did is god-knows-where!” An unhinged laugh bubbled up in his chest.

“..Anyway,” he flattened after finishing his manic display, then collapsed face-first into the couch he’d been ‘sleeping’ on. Nice couch. Felt like the only thing in the world that actually supported him. “But it’s an inanimate object,” Ford would say, not getting the joke. 

And then he’d say something like.. “You’re an inanimate object, nerd.” Then Ford would tell him that was wrong and that he wasn’t making any sense. Stan would just laugh at him.

Back in the real world, he shifted on the cushions to make himself comfortable. He knew just how bad the idea was. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get up. Right now, he just couldn’t force himself to care. Whenever he was up, he’d be up. Wasn’t like anything was waiting for him. Ford actually wasn’t on the other side of that portal, facing whatever it was that had him terrified enough to speak to him again. 

Everything was fine. Great, even! So great that he didn’t want to think about it anymore. He heaved a muffled sigh into the couch, knowing that if he pulled his face away from it now it’d be stained with tears. Now he was fucking crying.

Pa would tell him to man up and do something about it. When he tried, his arms wouldn’t move to push him up and his legs only shifted into a more comfortable position. The couch was warm. The basement was so, so cold.

Get up.

He tried again. This time he was too lazy to move at all.

Repeating the command didn’t work. Get up.

Just get up. You need to get up so you can work on the portal so you can get Ford back so you won’t have a reason to cry anymore. Come on, this is the first step. The first step is always the hardest. Up up up. Please.

Instead of listening, his body just sighed again. Then he folded his arms under his forehead to put some space between his face and the couch and shut his eyes.

----

Eventually, he found himself blearily waking up with half of his body hanging on the couch and the rest on the floor. The very first thing that caught his eye was the light from the window glinting against Ford’s glasses, abandoned on the table where he could be reminded of why he was still kicking every time he woke up.

He peeled himself off the hardwood floor with a grunt and stood there for a moment as his shitty excuse for a brain sputtered and revved like his car when he tried to start it. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later.

…

Ford. Right.

A hesitant hand reached toward the glasses, and he turned them in his hand. The lenses were smudged. Ford never let his glasses get smudged. Always crystal clear or it was like he didn’t have them at all, they had to be perfect. He wondered if Ford still carried a spare on him. If he didn’t.. Shit, Stan couldn’t even imagine that. Not just being sucked into whatever nightmare he was so worried about but having to deal with it blind.

The thought of Ford, his brother, of all the people on this Earth (or.. outside of it), going through that made him sick. Maybe he should eat sometime today. Slice of toast might settle his stomach down for a bit. 

He stared down at the spectacles in his hand and shook his head, then wiped them on his shirt. Lifting them up to the window shone enough light through the lenses for him to see that they were still smudged, just.. Spread around. His shirt was dirty.

Typical, he just made it worse. A look was cast around the room, nearly untouched in the month he’d been there.  “Just fuckin’ poetic,” he whispered to himself if only to test if he even had it in him to talk. “It’s just like my life.” His eyes narrowed at the glasses. “..In a way.”

Barely resisting the urge to throw the damn thing, he set the glasses back on the table and looked toward the door. He should get to work.

He picked up the glasses again, leaving the room with the gait of someone wading in cement. 

It was the same autopilot he’d been on for ages that led him back into the bathroom. When he slipped the glasses onto his face, his vision actually cleared a little. Maybe he should look into getting an eye test sometime. 

He put up a finger and spoke in his best Ford impression, “I may be a little bookworm, but I know what I’m talking about!” The sheer accuracy of the voice made him chuckle. He sounded just like him!

When he found himself staring at his reflection again, his other hand reached for the shower. The knob creaked as he turned it to the highest temperature and he watched absently as the mirror fogged up again.

Hair was up. Glasses were on.

They really were twins..

His shoulders drooped, and after a few seconds of careful consideration he spoke up. “Hey, Poindexter.” No, that wasn’t right. Say his name. “..Ford.” 

Another pause. Then he folded his arms behind his back and spoke in that impression again. “Stanley,” he greeted himself under his breath. Something about it, something about hearing Ford’s voice and– and almost seeing his face was..

It hurt.

But it felt good. The kind of hurt that he couldn’t help but reach for, like the burn of alcohol or a cigarette. Speaking of which, he was running out. He’d have to do something about that sooner or later. Not now. He was busy right now.

“I’m, uh..” his fingertips tapped together in a subconscious tic. “Still trying to get you back, Ford.” A smile spread across his face and he gestured behind him with his thumb. “I’ve been reading your textbooks, yanno, it’s actually startin’ to make sense. It’s not as fancy and sophisticated as you had it but it’s something to show for all the work I’ve been puttin’ in..”

Arms made their way behind his back again and he straightened his posture a little. “My idiot brother, learning physics..” A wistful sigh from “Ford”. “And it only took the worst tragedy of your life to finally kickstart it.” His expression softened, and he moved to place his hand on a shoulder that wasn’t there. His fingers twitched. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Not everyone would go through this much effort for.. Anyone, really.”

He needed to hear that. From the real Ford. This was good enough for now.

“I know, yeah.. I just– I hope you’re still out there. If you’re dead, or.. worse, I don’t know what I’d do with myself, Ford. I don’t know what I’d fucking do, and–” he took in a sharp breath, running a hand down the side of his face. His nails dug into the skin. “And I’m really scared to think about it.”

Silence.

His voice cracked when he spoke again. “..I’m scared, Ford.” The glasses over his eyes and the fog fading from the mirror left him with nothing. Nothing. A reminder of just how little he had. That was it.

And Ford offered no response.

Tears dirtied the lenses of the glasses even more, so he took them off and swiped at his eyes. He set them on the rim of the sink. This was stupid. All of this was stupid. Why was he still here? Why was he still holding on?

His legs wobbled underneath him and he just.. sat on the floor and gave in. With a shaky breath, he gave his tears a moment to fall and murmured into his knees, “because you’re my brother.”

It took him a few minutes. Maybe half an hour. But eventually, Stan pushed himself up and retrieved Ford’s glasses. He rinsed them in the sink to clean the dried tears off of them and only stopped when they were spotless. Crystal clear. The way Ford liked them.

Turning to leave, he muttered, “Love you, bro.”

“I love you too, Stanley. I’m sorry for everything.”

..He already forgave him.

(note: might be a part two with ford if im feeling brave)

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- silent archives.

summary: mistletoe kisses. (gn!reader x jonathan sims, martin blackwood, tim stoker, sasha james, and elias bouchard + helen/peony)

tags: kissies, fluff, helen distortion x my oc (peony) for funsies :], happy holidays everyone!!! <3

The stairs down to the Archives are narrow, dimly lit; you watch your feet over the stack of manila folders in your hands to make sure you don’t miss a step. You can hear the buzz of the old fluorescents, the clean smell of linen and parchment of the upper floors making way to something less pleasant and dusty; like the smell of a page starting to yellow. 

You’re a step behind them, elbows tucked close to your body, trying to avoid the cobwebs woven between the wall and the handrail. No matter how many times you had dusted the place, come morning the webs would be spun anew. Whatever spiders made their homes down here were winning the war of attrition. 

You stop when you reach the bottom step, lingering by the entryway to continue your discussion about… something that slips from your mind the moment you look up. Taped clumsily to the top of the entryway, tied with a small red bow is a fistful of mistletoe. 

Their gaze follows your own upward, and…

-`♡´- jonathan sims

...And Jon scoffs.

“Tim put this up, I presume?” Jon says dryly, readjusting his glasses. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world but here.

“Dunno. I haven’t seen him today.” You say, adjusting the files in your hands. “Sooo…”

Jon lets out a breath, then rubs at the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. This close, you think you spot a few more greys that weren’t there the last time you saw him. “Tell him to take it down, if you see him. I’d rather not have people… fraternizing in the Archives.”

If he didn’t sound so tired, you might’ve laughed. “Right. But, uh, just so I don’t get cursed, do you mind if I…” You shift the files to one hand, and reach your free hand up to point at your cheek. 

“If you really believe such a superstition, I question if this job has affected your discernment.” Jon rubs his hand over his own cheek, as if contemplating. After a moment, he sighs again. “Fine. You can…” He makes a vague gesture, then turns his head closer to your own. 

You hesitate for a moment, finding the sight of your boss waiting expectantly almost… cute. You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek; soft lips against rough stubble. 

“...You’re ridiculous.” He says, reluctantly fond. For a moment, he looks like he might say something else. Instead, he settles on: “Get back to work.”

-`♡´- martin blackwood

...And Martin’s eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Oh, uh, I wonder who put that there.” Martin coughs into his fist anxiously, then rubs his hands together as if to soothe.

“I wonder.” You say playfully, though you have an idea of who the culprit was. 

“We don’t have to… do anything, that is if you don’t want to.” Martin scratches his neck anxiously, playing with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck. The action is almost performative in its cuteness. “It’s just a silly tradition…” He laughs sheepishly. 

“And if I want to participate in this silly tradition?” You respond, stepping just a bit closer, the edges of the manila folders in your hands tapping against his chest. “...With you?”

“Oh!” He nearly squeaks out. You don’t ever think you’ve seen him quite so speechless. “Oh, that would… That is to say… I would…” Martin groans, seemingly annoyed at his own inability to speak clearly. Then he leans down, pressing his lips to your temple, a sweet display of affection.

You lean into his lips, almost chasing them as he pulls away. “That was nice. I almost want another.”

“Ah, well, I’d be… happy to provide.” Martin visibly brightens. “Just… Maybe not in the Archives? I’d hate to have Jon walk out, and uh…”

You laugh, picturing Jon’s exasperated expression. He’d probably send Martin away for good if he had to see that. And you as well, for good measure. “Mm, after work then? Maybe we could get drinks?”

“Yes!” He says, over eager, then he adds, “I mean, yes… That sounds lovely.”

-`♡´- tim stoker

...And Tim gets the goofiest grin on his face.

“Well, well…” He wiggles his eyebrows, sounding overly amused with himself. “Look what we have here.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, but you can’t deny his attitude was infectious. “...Really?”

“Don’t give me that look. I certainly didn’t put that up there.” He holds up his hands, the picture of innocence. “But I’m certainly not complaining that I was caught underneath it with my gorgeous co-worker and best friend. Perhaps this is… destiny.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You respond, playfully dry. Still, you can hardly even pretend to be annoyed at him. “C’mere.” You lean up and press a lingering kiss to his cheek. He smells like something clean and floral, and his skin warms underneath your lips.

When you pull back, he touches the spot you just kissed, as if to chase the slowly fading feeling of your lips against his skin. The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile turns almost sheepish.

“Do I get to return the favor?” He asks, cheekily, his hand brushing against your shoulder as he steps closer, encroaching in on your space. Not that you really mind.

“I’m waiting.” You say, and Tim doesn’t wait a second after getting your permission. He grabs your cheeks in his hand, his lips kissing the side of your mouth with an unnecessarily loud smacking sound. You can’t help but laugh as he pulls back, his hands still cradling your face, unable to look away. 

“Maybe one more for good measure, yeah?” His thumb strokes down your cheekbone. “Maybe it’ll make us extra lucky.”

“Excellent idea.” You say, already moving in to kiss him – proper, this time. 

-`♡´- sasha james

…And Sasha gasps, playfully scandalized.

“My, my…” She says. “A real predicament we’ve gotten ourselves into, hm?”

The look in her eyes makes you nervous; like she’s expecting something, and she’d hate for you to disappoint her. Or perhaps that’s your own projection – she’s so close, and so beautiful. Your arms tighten around the files you’re holding.

“Seems like it.” You respond, the words more confident than you feel. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to…”

“I’m well aware.” Sasha laughs, and for a moment it looks like she might tease you further. You can feel your cheeks warm. “But lucky for you, I think you look quite adorable right now.”

Sasha moves in closer, and you close the gap, your lips meeting her own. How could you ever forget the gentle way her lips move against yours? Soft, sticky; her lip gloss tastes like peppermint, and it makes your mouth tingle. When you pull back, her hand is covering her mouth as she laughs.

“You have a little…” Her hand comes forward, and wipes her smudged gloss off of your lips. It feels almost as nice as the kiss itself.

-`♡´- elias bouchard

...And Elias looks at you, unreadable as always.

“Ah.” He tuts. “I suppose this was someone’s idea of a prank?”

Just your luck to be the first victim. And just your luck to be caught underneath it with Elias. You pretend to have not noticed, looking up again after he poses his question.

“Oh. That…” You lie, rather lamely. “I’m not sure, I haven’t seen it until now.”

“I see.” He pauses, and you shift your feet, the silence growing uncomfortable as he watches you. 

“Would you… like me to take it down?” You ask, moving to make yourself useful. Before you can get too far away, he speaks up. 

“No, no. It’s just harmless fun.” He makes a dismissive gesture, and you visibly relax. You don’t want to think about how ridiculous you would look balancing on an office chair trying to take the mistletoe down. “Might… improve morale down here, as it is.”

“I’m surprised you’re alright with it.” You say, giving him a sideways look. “Sounds like a HR problem waiting to happen.”

Elias laughs at that. "I assure you it will be fine.” He pauses, then. “It would only be inappropriate if someone like me initiated, so to speak.” Elias looks down at you, the ghost of a smile on his lips. His words are suggestive, challenging almost. Before you can lose your nerve, you lean over and kiss his cheek.

“So… that’s alright, then?” You ask. The scent of his expensive cologne follows you, even as you pull away.

“Precisely.” Elias says, sounding pleased with himself, pleased with you. "Though, if you'd like a little... reciprocation, I recommend we go back to my office."

You can't find it in you to say no.

-`♡´- helen/peony

Helen is the one holding the little bundle of mistletoe over Peony’s head, a sharp-toothed grin on her face.

“Look what I found, darling.” Helen says, shaking the plant overhead, as if Peony didn’t see her approach with it. It looks comically small in Helen's unnaturally large hands. “This does bring back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Those memories aren’t yours.” Peony corrects, moving past Helen to her desk. When she sets the stack of folders down, Helen is leaning over Peony’s shoulder, boxing her in.

“Spoilsport.” Helen tuts, feigning disappointment that she’s not playing along. “I don’t want to argue semantics with you again. I’m in a good mood, after all.” 

Peony turns, looking up at Helen; Helen’s features shift ever so slightly the more she focuses on certain points of the Distortion’s face. Sometimes she looks like the Helen Peony remembers; or perhaps Peony is just searching too hard for something that was never there. Still, she can’t help but look every time. 

“Did you come here just for…” Peony motions to the mistletoe, still held out in Helen’s palm. 

“Is it so wrong to want some affection from my favorite person?” Helen says, sweet as honey. “I get lonely too, you know.”

It’s so ridiculous Peony almost laughs, like it wasn’t the Distortion’s fault for Peony’s own loneliness. 

Still, the Archives were much too quiet nowadays. Peony aches for the familiar comfort of another, and she’ll take it even if it’s from something as cold and inhuman as Helen. Peony’s eyes flick down to Helen’s lips. Yes, they almost looked the same. Would they taste the same as her Helen’s once did?

“...You just want a kiss?” Peony asks, quietly. Helen narrows her eyes, looking far too pleased with herself. Peony can almost hear the sound of metal teeth snapping shut.

“If that’s what you’re willing to give me, darling.” She bends down, her face just above Peony’s. Peony doesn’t give herself any time to think this through, instead moving forward, pushing her lips against Helen’s in a slow, tentative kiss. Peony feels one of Helen's fingers run down her back, sharp, even through layers of clothes, and she shivers.

With Peony's eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that this is a stolen moment of normalcy; for a moment, she's back in her Helen's house, pressed up against her on the couch as they wind down from their long work days.

"...Now, was that so hard?" Helen muses, and Peony's eyes flutter open. Peony touches her lips, feeling her smudged chapstick, and she sighs.

Peony leans in for a second kiss.

[collettblack]

ᴘᴀs ᴅᴇ ᴅᴇᴜx - ᴊ.ᴠ.

Parts: 1/6

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Those we hold dear, do not usually sit so easily in our grasp. Sometimes they sink their nails in deep. Sometimes they slip away completely. 

Or, Aegon is injured and is unable to dance Swan Lake with you. His replacement brings more than a few complications.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: Modern setting, TargTower!Reader, forced proximity, references to past drug use, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut

A/N: I was greatly inspired by @eldrith's Golden Cage to write some Jacaerys/reader fic of my own. I had this idea swimming in my mind after a recent rewatch of the show. Hope you can enjoy it! - xx

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Archive of Our Own

“What the fuck do you mean he’s going to rehab?”

Aemond chuckled on the other side of the line, as if this was another one of their sick jokes. “You heard me, princess. Mother ushered him off this morning, didn’t want him to see you lest you changed his mind.”

As the frigid air prickled your skin, you tried not to notice the other dancers in the hall shooting you strange looks, trying and failing not to listen in on whatever new gossip swirled around the principals of the academy. Your brothers, Aemond and Aegon, were two boys who loved nothing more than to rile you up. To make you angry beyond measure.

Grabbing your warm-up bag, you pushed the door into the private room for the morning class.

“Of course I would’ve changed his mind. We’re two months out from the Swan Lake premiere, who the fuck does he think is going to replace him?” You hissed into the phone.

But just as the harsh words slipped from your tongue, you looked out into the room you expected to find empty, only to see the dance director, Criston Cole, and a dark-haired boy, both turned to see you coming in. The boy, whom you quickly recognized to be Jacaerys Velaryon, shifted and averted his eyes to his feet, skittish under your heavy glance.

“I’m sure Criston will figure things out, he always does in a pinch.”

“Aemond, I’ll call you back.” You whispered through gritted teeth.

You heard him huff, clearly still amused. “Oh, I expect so.”

Your arm fell limply at your side as you ended the call. You looked out at the tense figures standing before you, your lips parted In disbelief.

“What is the meaning of all this?” You turned accusing eyes to Criston for answers.

His hair was pulled back, and he seemed surprisingly calm for a man who’d just lost one of his best, barely months out from one of the largest premiering shows of the year. “I’m sure you heard, your brother will sadly be indisposed for the remainder of the season.”

“Yeah, what’s Rhaenyra’s kid doing here?” You snapped, not disguising the ire behind your words.

Jacaerys looked up, a dark brow raised. “Rhaenyra’s kid?”

“What? Is your parentage even more complicated than we thought?” You snapped, poking at his usual wounds.

All Jaceaerys could do was scoff. A more assured smirk came over his features.

Criston stepped in before either of you could get too far, his hands raised in apprehension. “Jacaerys here auditioned and was placed as Aegon’s understudy. He will be your new partner.”

“Jacaerys.” You repeated after him, a ringing starting in your ear.

The boy tilted his head from over Criston’s shoulder, a taunting glint poking at the corner of his lips. A strange tension stifled the air between the two of you. There was a reddish tint to his freckled cheeks, something akin to shame, though it was not something he wasn’t used to. You watched his hands curl to fists at his sides, another familiar defensive gesture from him. When you were kids, Aemond and Aegon always thought it would be funny to chase him around and make him and his brother Luke miserable. They practically made a sport out of it.

“How has my mother allowed this?” You continued to prod. “A Hightower dancing in a lead role with one of the Strong boys?”

Criston rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

As another protest rose from your lips, you were cut off as he stepped forward and grabbed your arm. He leaned down to whisper before you could get another word in. “Alicent is debating sending you off, too. This is a reprieve. Behave yourself.” He warned.

Your muscles went stiff, looking only at Jacaerys now, who stood with his arms tucked behind his back, seeming for all the world as if he’d won some silent battle. But as Criston Cole let go of your arm and stepped away to ready the music, you slumped forward, and a twinge of sympathy seemed to flash over his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t intend to make this any more difficult,” Jaecerys muttered, retreating back into his former nervous self.

“Too late for that.” You huffed, giving him a sideways glare. You walked to your usual spot near the mirror and threw your warm-up bag on the floor at your feet. “Let’s just warm up on the barre, see how badly we need to clean up your technique.”

At that jab, he said nothing. He followed behind you, standing close. He wore the usual attire of the male dancers in the company. A light fitted shirt and skin-toned tights. Your eyes narrowed at the muscled contours of his legs, trying to convince yourself that perhaps he would be capable of lifting you. His dark curls nearly covered his eyes when you looked up to meet his gaze through the reflection again.

“You look different. You’ve gotten taller.” You remark, again, glaring at him over your shoulder.

“I know.” He replied, looking smug, clearly taking note of where your attention had strayed. “It’s nice to see you, too.”

The light, melodious notes of Tchaikovsky filled the room and you turned your head to see Criston open the door to usher in the rest of the morning class. More than a few of them failed to hide their surprise at seeing who stood behind you now.

Swallowing your pride, you bent down and tugged on your ankle warmers and flats to begin. The pointe shoes you would use later in the day were already darned and broken in at the shank. For the first time, you felt your anger fade into nerves, and when you glanced up at Jacaerys again, you found he was already observing you.

“How’s Luke?”

He cleared his throat, his voice low and collected. “Injured in the summer intensive. He’s debating going back to college for a semester.”

Standing straight again, you turned quickly towards the mirror, finding something disquieted you about facing Jacearys directly. How you were actually going to manage to dance with him was the burning question on your mind. Nevertheless, it was easier to look at him through the large reflection. 

“Do I need to ask about your brothers?” He teased.

You swallowed hard, biting back against his pointed remarks. “No, you don’t need to pretend you care. Nothing good to say anyway, I’m sure you’ve heard enough.”

Mirroring your movements, you both went up onto relevé to begin stretching your feet. He was having a good time now, seeing your displeasure. Watching your glare, you heard him chuckle under his breath. He turned his face away to hide his amusement, but you could see it so clearly. He had a dimple on his cheek when he tried to hide his smile. It was absolutely insufferable. Your hand gripped the barre hard to steady yourself on the tips of your toes. “Get the smirk off your face, Jacaerys, smugness really doesn’t suit you.”

He chuckled, unabashedly this time. “I am not smug. Aegon is a mess, it was only a matter of time, and you know it. As far as I’m concerned, Alicent’s wretched father has had to buy out poor Aegon’s leading roles here for the past three seasons. The company’s been dying for an excuse to see him out. You can’t expect me not to rejoice when a Hightower is pushed down from their unearned pedestal. ”

The truth of his words, the reality of it, had not yet fully consumed you. You wanted to loathe the Strong boy, you really did. All your life, you’d practically been trained to know nothing but loathing for him. But Jacaerys Velaryon was not even cruel. Were it Aemond or Aegon rousing up an argument, you would’ve been driven to a breaking point before either of them so much as relented.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You muttered, looking down at your feet.

Jacaerys recognized the shame in your eyes. The angry veneer. His smile faded slowly. He took a small step back, giving you more space. Lowering his head, he muttered softly. “Like you said, I’ve heard enough.”

An echo of clapping rose over the music, and everyone around you quieted down as Criston Cole came to the center of the room and beckoned the class to come to attention. “Alright, let’s settle down. Follow the variation closely, if you can’t keep up, see yourself out. I won’t be repeating myself today.”

After warm-ups were concluded, they began to go through the program you recognized well. Jacaerys did not struggle through the combinations at all, nor did he miss a single step in their initial turns across the floor together. Criston seemed pleased enough by the time their main rounds of practice were through, and once the morning classes were finished, it was time for the company's rehearsals to begin.

The more familiar faces lingered farther in the back. Baela and Rhaena, though familiar to you from a young age, were closest to Jacaerys. They were there, beautiful and timeless in their work. Now they watched you keenly as you and Jacearys came to the center of the floor when the groups of pairs were called. Criston sighed as he met your eyes, as if he’d been putting off having to deal with you for long enough. “You’ve learned the counts as Aegon has these past few months, I just want to see how you both move together. Start from the top of Siegfried and Odette’s pas de deux in Act two.”

The initial counts went fine. Jacaerys was clean in his lines and carried you through your pirouettes without issue. When his hands came to your waist to pull you through, you faltered only slightly in the initial turn before finding your center again. He seemed timid even to touch you. You tensed as the counts in the choreography forced your faces to linger closely, to look at each other with a passionate longing. Siegfried and Odette were the greatest of lovers, up there with Romeo and Juliet, where classical Ballet was concerned. The variation must show it, not only in the steps, but in the expressions, the poise, the technique.

“Come on, it’s a trust fall, I’ve never seen you so stiff.” Criston chided you. “Extend your arms back, carry the movement to the tips of your fingers.”

You sighed, straightening yourself out of Jacaerys' grasp. “He can barely lift me, Criston. This is insulting.”

Your words were hushed, but with Jacearys pressed against your back, he could certainly hear you.

“He’s kept up with you so far, don’t be so harsh,” Criston remarked, stepping back to rewind the music for them to start again.

You felt Jacaerys shift in his place, his fingers still pressed against your ribcage. And before you could turn away, he leaned his head down to whisper in your ear. “You’re too tense. I can keep up with you if you just relax.”

“I’m fine.” You bit back an insult, feeling his breath hovering over your neck. It prickled the skin down your arms unpleasantly, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice. “You can let go now, let’s just get through the rest of the counts.”

Seeing your discomfort, his arms snapped away almost immediately, as if your words burned him.

“I’m sorry.” He turned his head down.

You looked at him warily, not knowing where to step next. The harshness of your words seemed to put him in a state of unease. A strange wave of guilt tightened in your chest. His eyes remained downcast as the music began, and you both moved to your starting positions again. The remainder of rehearsals continued this way, without further interruption. Your strengths remained in your leg extensions and your turns. You had to admit, Jace was not all too terrible at guiding you through every arabesque and carefully balanced position.

But in the heartfelt outpouring of Odette, there was sorrow and desperation you could not yet muster up. Not when a perpetual frown seemed to crease your brows every time you felt Jace so close.

“We have to work on trust,” Criston critiqued, his arms crossed where he leaned against the wall-length mirror. “Odette and Siegfried were so desperate to be together, they chose death rather than be eternally parted. The technique is there for both of you, but we won’t get anywhere if you cannot, at the very least, look like lovers.”

The eyes of the class were on you both. Under such scrutiny, you glared at the freckled boy standing next to you, seeing and feeling the impossibility of such a task. Feeling your heavy stare, he shifted on his feet, but seemed to garner the courage to meet your eyes, to give you a curt nod, as if he was more than ready to face the challenge ahead, whether you obliged him or not.

The dancers in the company lingered, practicing the remaining counts of their variations over and over until they got it right. Once Criston dismissed them, Jace quickly retreated from your side and drew back to converse with Baela and Rhaena at the other end of the class.

You approached Criston, who paused the track over the speaker and raised a knowing brow as he turned to see you standing there. Crossing your arms over your chest, your displeasure couldn’t have been clearer. “So I take it you’ve sided with Mother in all this?”

With a sigh, he tried to walk past you, but you followed him.

“I want Aegon to be okay,” he said, barely meeting your eyes over his shoulder. “I want you to be okay.”

You could hardly help rolling your eyes at this. You did not need the dance director's pity, you needed him to cooperate. To not side with Alicent Hightower in all her rash decisions simply because he’s always found her so endearing.

“Oh, and stripping him of all he’s worked for will certainly help.” You seethed, trying and failing to keep your voice down.

The dancers who passed by made half-hearted attempts not to slow down and listen nearby. You looked back to see Rhaena and Baela retreating from Jace’s side to head into the changing rooms. Jace looked around as they left, and his eyes found yours from across the room.

Criston Cole, who had trained you since you could practically walk, was skilled as ever at managing your upsets, and very easily shrugged you away in the worst of tantrums. “Everything will work out. Go get some rest. You look tired.”

You watched him walk off with the rest of the students. Slipping off your pointe shoes and moving to grab your warm-up bag, you made your way out as well. You were just about to leave when the exact voice you didn’t wish to hear called out your name behind you.

“Wait, hold the door!” Jace sprinted to where you stood.

Begrudgingly, you turned to look at him. “What do you want?”

He blinked, struggling to gather himself.  “Uhhh, sorry, I-”

“Jace.” You cut him off.  “Stop apologizing.”

He shook his head, nodding. “Right, uhh,  you live in the student dorms near here, do you not?”

“Sure, yeah, what of it?”

“Let me walk you.”

You thought of a million reasons to say no. You should say no. In your mind, the words that conjured up sounded too much like your mother. She would've been disgusted and put out by the fact that he even dared to ask. Jacaerys Velaryon. The bastard boy you were always destined to hate, who was now your dance partner, wanted to walk you home. He clung to his kindness, despite your outward cruelty.

You gave him a small nod, and as you opened the door he moved through the space to walk next to you. It was cold and lightly drizzling. He didn’t seem to mind as you set a steady pace up the sidewalk and he followed closely at your side.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I am really sorry about whatever’s going on with Aegon.”

“No, you’re not. They’ve always been such shitheads to you.” You scoff, hands tucked in the pockets of your jacket.

You felt him sneaking glances at you, struggling in the tense silence for the right words to say.

“Yeah, well, you’re not to blame, you never took part in any of it.” He muttered softly.

“Sure didn’t do anything to stop it either.” You reminded him.  “I don’t care how you feel about them anyway.”

“You’ve never been like them,” he said, sounding almost solemn.

You opened your mouth to deny that, but as you met his eyes, you saw a frown curled up between his brows. The words slipped from your grasp, and it didn’t matter anyway, as you approached the familiar sight of your apartment. A small set of steps led up to the door. The front garden was overgrown and unkempt. If it were anybody else, you’d have it in you to feel somewhat embarrassed. Jacaerys didn’t mention it, though he did not move to follow you up to the door.

“I want this to work out between us.” He declared.

You looked at him over your shoulder, almost sneering. “Oh, I’m sure you do. This is clearly all very convenient for you.”

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Look, Jace, it’s fine, honestly, it’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Sure, but this will all be a lot easier if we can actually work together, don’t you think?”

It would be a lot easier if he weren't standing in front of you at all, you thought. It would be a lot easier if Aegon wasn’t such a fucking mess. If you weren’t such a fucking mess. You could still feel his hands grasping at your waist, pulling you through your turns, your muscles tensing against his panting breaths at the end of the variation, standing so close his nose almost grazed yours. Too close. You shook the intrusive thought off and huffed through your nose. “It’s cold, are you coming inside?”

His eyes widened slightly. Before he could muster up a response, you turned to fiddle with your keys, opening the door swiftly. He fumbled up the steps to follow you in.

“You want a drink?”

“No, I don’t, thanks.” He shook his head, catching up with you as you turned into the small kitchen.

He eyed your open fridge, seeming unimpressed by the few things you had stocked in it. Cheap gas station beer. Diet soda. You grabbed the soft drink and turned silently to lead him into your smaller living area. He was frowning again when you turned to see him.

“Won’t you have some lunch?”

“This is lunch.” You grumbled, sitting down on the couch just beneath the window.

He sighed, still sounding displeased. “Alright.”

It’d begun to rain, and the soft sound of the droplets against the glass was, at the very least, calming to your otherwise frayed nerves. You nudge your chin to the empty spot next to you. “Sit.”

He hesitated before approaching you. There was conflict in his eyes, as if he was struggling to keep his thoughts in order. Fighting for the right thing to say next. Jacaerys liked to fidget with his hands a lot. Despite being in the lower ranks, he was still a company dancer. The right connections could’ve landed him the principal role long before this unfortunate turn of events. If it weren’t for his dancing ability, you’d have judged him as stiff and lacking grace in every manner. You pretended not to watch him when he found his voice again. “Look, about working together…”

“Yes, yes, Jace, I get it,” You cut him off, taking a long sip of your drink.  “You want to work hard, this is the role you’ve always wanted. I don’t think we have to like each other, we just have to dance.”

The corner of his lips twitched. He leaned back, eyeing you speculatively. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“That’s what it always has been for me. Stick it out, make mother proud, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be like that, not with me.” He tried to sound reassuring.

Jacaerys was the kind of boy who’d grown up with a loving and attentive family. It was clear he was not used to simply shrugging things off. He hovered over the discomfort in the air, a fog he’d like to acknowledge rather than ignore. It was uncomfortable. Hightowers don’t prod at uncomfortable things. In the grey light, his eyes looked a burnished orange color you hated to admit was quite pretty. If only he were not giving you that pitiful look.

You averted your gaze out the window, pretending to find something interesting in the view of the muggy city street. “You better fuck off before Aemond gets here.”

“You think I’m scared of Aemond?” He rolled his eyes.

“No, but if you two get into another one of your infamous spats, I’d rather it not be in my flat.”

He considered it for a moment before getting up from the couch. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You got up with him, moving to walk him to the door. He was fiddling in his pockets for something. The front hall was narrow enough so it just barely fit you both side by side. He apologized under his breath as you nudged him to get through.

“Jacaerys.”

“Yes?”

“Let me give you my number, it’ll make things easier.” If you were in a worse mood, you wouldn’t even consider it, but you hated to admit you liked to see his eyes light up as the fateful words left your mouth.

He straightened and fished his pocket for his phone. “Right, yeah, you’re right.”

Handing it over for you to put your information in, there was a tense silence between you two. You could hear his breathing slow, watching as you typed your name in on the screen.

“This will be good for you, I think. For both of us.” He corrected himself quickly, sounding more hopeful than he had been all day.

“You’re overthinking it.”

This time, he did not seem so thrown off by the harshness around the edges. As you opened the front door, he smiled and shook his head, taking the phone back from your outstretched hand as he went.

“Eat something. Rest well.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

[figsnpassionfruits]

Paint Away, My Little Dove

A/N: welcome to my very first imagine. This takes place right away the gang arrives at Horseshoe Overlook. It is somewhat canon but you will figure that out as you read. English is not my first language, so in case there is anything you notice, please message me! I hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing this <3 word count: 2k tags: arthur morgan x fem!reader, fluff, age gap dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive pictures are from pinterest

Oh yes, the fields of Big Valley. What a sight they were. Each careful brush stroke you were making was an attempt to recreate the unforgettable beauty of the scenery in front of you. The love-songs of the birds around you filled the silence in the air as you dipped your brush into one color, then into another, to create the shade you needed for the details of the Bluebonnets. All day you’ve been sitting on your small wooden stool, your glutes and back slightly sore, but the will to finish this piece before the sun went down was stronger than the pain.  

Your two horses were to your side, roaming around the violet flower field. In order to make them comfortable you had removed them from your wagon and their reigns. Every once in a while, you would hear their hooves stomp on the ground as they were snacking on the fresh grass. Spring was just starting to come in. ‘The grass must be tasting sweet for them’, you thought to yourself.

Most of your days were spent like this. It included finding a pretty spot with different elements of nature, such as mountains, trees, riverbanks and forests. Then you would proceed to paint it on your canvases. Some paintings were small enough to fit into a saddlebag, others big enough to compliment homes. Your wagon was able to stash all your supplies and works. At the end of each day, you would pack up everything, set up a camp, and sleep, excited to see where the next day and trail would bring you to. After the soreness in your wrists starts to settle in, building up too much discomfort to ignore, you would go into the nearby town to sell your art. Earning a living with art is not necessarily easy, but it is most definitely amusing, especially when you encounter folks who do not really know about the value of it. Therefore you knew your target group: People with too much money in their pockets who do not question the overly-expensive prices. Sure, sometimes it would work, other times it would not. But it was enough to get you food to fill your belly and the supplies you needed to get by.

Scrunching your eyebrows, you swat away the bees buzzing near your ear, annoyed at them pulling you out of your focus.

“What’cha painting there?”

“Whatever is in front of me…” You mumbled. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny sigh, followed by small eyeroll, before turning around swiftly, facing the stranger who asked. “Could you please leave?”

“Excuse me?” He chuckled.

Placing your brush on the small wooden plate of the stand in front of you, you rubbed your temple. “I apologize-“ You giggled. “I just get so caught up in my work. Can’t afford no distractions.”

“Aghhh” The stranger groaned, getting down from his horse, “I get it. No apology needed.” He said, putting his hands up in a light-hearted way, as he kept walking towards you. By closing the distance between both of you, you allowed yourself to take a better look at him, analyzing his clothes, trying to understand who or what he was. Maybe a potential customer? What price range could you offer him, which would be enough to profit you, but not too much to the point of scaring him away. Or maybe, he was perhaps just a curious man, intrigued by people. In that case, offering him a price was maybe not a necessary thing to do. Weighing out your options, you decided to be blunt and tell him right away.

“Seventy-five for this one.”

The stranger took a step back, looking back and forth between you and the unfished painting. “Seventy-five?!” He exclaimed. “The yellow in that better be liquid gold.”

A small shrug with a self-satisfied smile is what he got in return.

He was indeed very handsome. Broad shoulder that stretched his shirt, beautiful light eyes that could reflect objects in his vision like a mirror and a mustache slightly longer than his stubble. He seemed like a well-groomed man. Well-groomed usually equivalents to a decent amount of money. Unless he was a con-artist.

“Beautiful horses ya got there” He nodded over to the direction of where your wagon was placed.

Following his point of direction, you turned around. Those horses really were beautiful, such as the bond you had with them. “Thank you.” You replied softly.

A small moment of silence occurred as you both individually took in the scenery and everything nature had to offer for you. It truly was beautiful. The way the snowy mountains up north were looking over the river, which was flowing through the flower field, seemed unreal. The combined sounds of the birds, bears, coyotes, deer and bees further blocked out your other senses. It was peace.

“How come you haven’t painted ‘em?”

“Hm?” You hummed.

A small giggle left his lips as he smiled, his eyes glued to his slightly dirt-covered boots for a split second. “Ya horses. How come you haven’t painted ‘em?” He repeated, kicking a few small stones around.

“Oh- I guess… I just like sticking to landscapes. Haven’t really figured out how to make the animals look good.” You admitted.

He nodded understandingly, his gaze roaming around the fields again. Unexpectedly, he took another step towards you, offering you his wide and strong looking hand. “Arthur Morgan”

You waited for a second yet flashed him a small smile right before you bit your lip. “Y/N L/N” The corners of your lips quirked up as you shook the hand in front of you with your own.

Arthur stepped away, tilting his hat down as a polite gesture. “See ya around, Miss.”

“See you, Mr. Morgan.”

..................................................

Valentine… What a lively little town. It had everything you’d need to make a home. A butcher, a store, livestock, a stable and even a saloon. Yet, this was not something you could think about. Having no one to lean on to was not the most uncomplicated thing in the world. But it does allow you to harden your shell and intuitively create different paths of survival. Travelling around was yours.

You had set up a small stand near the theatre, your paintings displayed for every passing person to see. Your horses were in the stable, getting treatments you could never afford for yourself. After all, they were the ones doing all the pulling and walking. If anyone deserves a day off like that, it was them. Strangers would pass by, some only glancing at your creations, others stopping for a few only to admire them. And then they were people who bought. The local folks here had already gotten used to you. This was a great spot to sell, especially during the tourist seasons. The hotel was never empty during this time of the year. The fancy and rich from up north loved the sun. So, to take advantage of those, you would come here twice a year. Anytime they would show up, you were here as well. Waiting for potential customers could get a tad bit boring but sitting on a nice cushion helped.

You were picking out the dirt from under your nails when precipitously the Sheriffs frame came into your sight.

“Miss L/N! How are you this fine afternoon?” He cheered as he walked past.

“Thank you, Sheriff, I am fine.” You smiled back at him, finally leaving your nails alone. Your eyes followed his strut, trying to block out your envy. He was a man after all. Being a woman in these times was not easy. A home was something you could only dream of if you belonged to a man, whether that is being a daughter or a wife. Legally owning property? That was not anything that women should even be thinking of.

The sound of wooden wheels rolling and cheery singing of female voices made you glance towards the direction it came from. It was a wagon, its back filled with women, each more gorgeous than the other, while the front had two men seated on it. Once the movement and tunes came to a halt, everyone on it got off, splitting ways on where to go. Yet one of the men came right towards you.

“Miss L/N.” Arthur greeted, trailing to you and your tiny gallery.

Attempting to block out the sun with your hand, you smiled up at him from your cushion. “Hello, Mr. Morgan. Changed your mind on the seventy-five dollars?”

“God, no.” He snickered, bending down to take a better look at one of the smaller paintings. The lake portrayed in it seemed familiar to him. ‘Of course’ Arthur thought. ‘How could I forget this place.’. It was the small cabin at O’Creagh’s Run, which belonged to the veteran he occasionally hunted with.

“You seem to like that one, though.” You pointed out.

“Ya didn’t say this was seventy-five. Scared me off with the one from Big Valley.”

‘Yeah, maybe that was a bit too much.’ You pondered as you clicked your tongue. Before allowing silence to settle in, you asked him what he was doing here.

“Could ask you the same thing.” He said amused.

Even though you only had two conversations with this man, it was fun. The back-and-forth banter was not something everyone could keep up with you, let alone a man who would not get offended by a sassy woman.

“I get by here usually twice a year. The tourists love the landscapes. Makes their homes look nice. You should try.” You suggested.

Arthur let out a small chuckle, this time thoroughly taking his time looking through your art. His gaze was fixated on the smaller canvases. One of those could fit nicely into his saddlebag. Not that he had the space for a bigger piece. Roaming his eyes between two, one that looked similar to the Dakota River, the other a smaller version of the floral area around O’Creagh’s Run. The positive association of his friendship with the veteran Hamish made him point at the second one. “I like that one.”

You turned, picking up the named piece. “This one I would give out for fifty, since it is obviously smaller. But for you, since we are now associates,” You giggled “I will hand it out for… thirty-five.”

Even though this offer was better than the other, Arthur could not help but shake his head, a smile not going unnoticed. “Alright, alright.” He pulled out the money from his pocket. “Only because it’s near a friends house.”

You took his money, whispering the numbers while counting. “Hamish?” You asked.

“Yeah.” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “Ya know the old fella?” Arthur questioned, while taking the painting into his hand.

You hummed, putting the money into your small leather purse. “He took me in one night while I was freezing up there. Sometimes a tiny camp is just not enough. Ever since then I see him as my pa. He’s the sweetest.” You explained, keeping eye contact with Arthur. This was the longest you have had continuously looked at him. His good looks you already have noticed the first day you met. But today, it seemed to sink in. The question of what he was- you still could not answer. “I will head back to him soon. Been out here for weeks now. He must be really worried, too.”

‘That makes sense.’ He thought. No wonder he has not seen you with Hamish before.

“Well, thank you for buying something, Mr. Morgan.” You smiled.

“Please, call me Arthur.”

- 🍯

[amywritesthings]

the archives & lost files. / three wick candle / a geto x gojo x reader fic

i had this preview of a throuple fic i had planned like two years ago just sitting in my drafts, and i figured i could maybe start a series of 'archives and lost files'. aka the fics / concepts / etc that may one day rise to fruition - or may never come to be!

this was supposed to be a short series when i was really into jjk. maybe one day i'll return to it, but here's the prologue for those who may have been interested !!

pairing: geto x gojo x reader fandom: jujutsu kaisen word count: 1k+ tags: arranged marriage mention, forbidden romance, secret polyamorous relationship/throuple, angst, hurt/comfort, set around hidden inventory arc, dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“We could just… go.”

The words tumble out of your mouth faster than you mean them to.

Even with the hesitance hanging at the end of the sentence, your brain lags behind with the exhaustion weighing down your ankles.

You can imagine Geto’s expression, though you purposefully angle your peripheral to avoid it. A lot of your life has been this way: discovery and avoidance, a push and pull wearing the threads of your clothes thin.

Discovering his disappointment, his anguish, his ever-looming empathy will surely break you, so you avoid it. Push against the pull. Push, push, push—

And go.

Like it’s as simple as leaving this beach blanket crowding your shoulders together. Like it's as easy as Gojo’s laugh as he kicks water with his bare feet, thrilled at how cold the water is — you guys gotta get in here, it’s insane! — and oblivious to what looms ahead.

It’s easier not to burden the sole bachelor of the Gojo clan with more weight on his shoulders.

(You enjoy when he’s loud, a bursting firework to your melancholy. Telling him would fizzle that spark — or overcharge it to an accidental wildfire.)

You stare at the gradual sunset beyond Gojo’s spiny back. He bends at the hips, fumbling for the perfect sea shell to finish his trifecta masterpiece. The other two shells sit right by your little toe, finally dried from the afternoon sun.

One is black and strong in its ridges, bigger than any shell you’ve ever set your eyes on, but it has a tiny chip at its base. Gojo must have overlooked that tiny detail, too excited that he’s found one that can completely encompass your palm.

That’s Suguru, he proudly states.

(Suguru, like you, entertains whatever Satoru presents.)

The other sitting beside the black shell is a brilliant blue and smoother, as if exfoliated by sand with love. This one took hours for him to find — soaked to the bone, he crawled up the sand with a tinge of sunburn and a wild look in those bright blue eyes of his.

Gojo flicked the little thing to you in a coin toss, forcing you to catch it mid-air. Is that you? 

Nope. The ‘p’ popped with arrogance. You.

Subverted expectations: the Satoru way.

Searching for the Gojo shell has taken up the rest of the evening, leaving you and Geto stranded as the evening hours begin to creep in. 

Yet considering what awaits you in the upcoming months, you’re happy to hear your stomach growl from lack of dinner and to feel the chill of the incoming night.

“Is that what you want?”

The soft voice to your left takes you out of the moment.

Avoidance isn’t enough this time. Your chin turns, and soon you’re met with the compassionate stare of your friend. 

In the orange glow of the setting sun, he’s ethereal; his wrists remain locked, his thumb and index finger looping together over his raised knees. His swim shorts have dried. Sand peppers his bare feet.

The rogue lock of hair sitting against his temple shifts when he turns closer to you, dropping his volume an octave.

“To leave?”

No.

You never want to leave Okinawa. You never want to leave your dorm room bed in Tokyo. You never want to see a single sunset like this again, not unless—

“Not unless it's with both of you,” you confess in a murmur.

Geto’s dark-eyed stare remains meaningful, brave, as he soaks in your words.

You stretch your legs out to give your aching body something to do, burying your feet into the soft tan sand ahead. “They’d probably find us pretty quickly anyway.”

“Not if Satoru knew.”

Geto remains serious. He remains staring at you. High alert, should you begin to falter.

An old habit — Geto takes care of everybody but himself.

Gojo whoops and hollers in the background, smacked into the sea by a surprise wave.

You both continue watching one another.

“If Satoru knew—”

“He should,” Geto interrupts gently.

“Suguru,” you warn just as lightly. 

Whispers on the summer wind.

Just like your arranged marriage proposal, rotting away in a scroll somewhere in the bottom of the backpack you carried to the beach today. Even now you can feel its invisible presence in the salty air, threatening to choke you into submission.

Because that was the point of the trip, right? To enjoy one last day without burdens with the two boys you’ve always loved — that you always will love — until reality creeps up to what Jujutsu higher ups hiding behind opaque mirrors expects from you.

What Jujutsu society expects of you.

“Barbaric,” the dark-haired boy starts. “We both know that these archaic, barbaric traditions need to die. I’ve kept your secret like an oath, but I can’t keep Satoru out of the loop much longer. You want to run? Then say the word, because we’ll be on a plane tomorrow. But we aren’t leaving without—”

“I would never leave without him,” you interrupt this time, eyes shining with a flurry of emotions you so rarely allow bubble to the surface. 

Swallow down, down, down — until they no longer exist.

It’s why you’ve enlisted the help of Suguru over Satoru. He knows a thing or two about consuming things that make you feel sick.

“I just… know how he’s going to take it,” you tell him, flickering your attention back to crashing waves to the shore.

Gojo’s back is turned to the two of you, basking in what little sun remains over the horizon. His white hair shifts in the wind — his Infinity is disabled.

At peace.

As carefree as he is, as arrogant as he can be, you know he very rarely feels peace.

“Likely as well as I did,” Geto reminds at your side.

Your head shakes.

“No,” you say. “Worse. Much worse.”

You can see it: the frown forming in your peripheral vision. You blink further to the right. 

Avoid.

“If Satoru knew,” you finally start again, well aware of the infliction in your voice. “Then there would be no stopping him. If Satoru knew, then he would—”

“—help you.”

Geto’s Hawaiian shirt rustles as he detaches his hands to place one onto yours, his interruption soft. Reassuring. 

You stare as his thumb runs across your skin before meeting his gaze, shaking your head.

“...he would burn them all to the ground.”

[fallenangelicss]

Catching Stray Kisses

PAIRING | Bridget | Queen of Hearts/James Hook

WORD COUNT | 1077

SUMMARY | When bored in class, Briget reverts to people-watching to pass the time. What she didn't expect was to find someone already watching her. The culprit behind it also seems to be pretty good at pulling a rise out of her.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply

A/N | This is my first time partaking in a month-long prompt list so I'm going to do my best to keep up with it can get as many done as I can. It'll hopefully give me a reason to write more which I desperately need. Also, if you'd like to support me then you should consider downloading the Kinder World app with this link. My referral code is WV9K4X but if you need a new referral code then feel free to reach out!

EVENTS | @aug-kissed | Blow A Kiss

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Bridget sat bored in class, her head resting on one of her hands as her feet kicked back and forth under the desk. As much as she loved Merlin’s classes, they tended to drag on when they weren’t doing any sort of practical work. The singular hour that they were in the room seemed to stretch on for days and it didn’t help at all that it was the last lesson before they were free to do as they pleased. 

Ella sat next to her, carefully taking notes as Merlin taught at the front of the room, occasionally writing what seemed to be nonsense on the chalkboard. Bridget knew it would be smarter for her to just pay attention now so she wouldn’t have to beg Ella later for her notes but she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the teacher for more than a few moments at a time, all the information he was spouting going in through one ear and out the other. 

It was honestly exhausting just sitting there. Bridget was ready to go up to her dorm and take a nap until dinner time then maybe make some sort of sweet treat afterwards that she could share around. She didn’t know what she would make but she knew she was itching to stand in front of her homemade mini-kitchen and get back to what she loved doing. 

Letting her eyes dance around the classroom after they instinctively went back to the clock hanging on one of the walls, seeing how they still had another twenty minutes to go before class was over, Bridget resorted to some sightseeing, attempting to find something that could keep her occupied while she waited for the bell to ring. 

Most of the students in the room, like her, seemed to be too bored to comprehend what was happening in front of them which could only be Merlin’s fault as he should’ve known better than to give anyone a theory lesson as their last class on a Friday. 

Like most days, Bridget noticed Uliana terrorising some of her classmates with her tentacles, trying to be discreet about it. At her side sat Morgie, which Bridget wasn’t surprised to see. Laughing almost uncontrollably at whatever it was that Uliana did, Morgie was always attempting to be a good villain for her. Another thing Bridget wasn’t surprised to see was Hades and Maleficent sat next to one another, their hands interlocked while Maleficent sketched something on some scrap paper and Hades messed around with some sort of fire magic. 

What Bridget was however surprised to see was Hook sitting by himself and staring directly at her. Normally he would be the one sitting next to Uliana, if not he would drag Morgie into the seat next to him so he was never by himself. But to see him alone and staring directly at Bridget was a shock, especially when he didn’t look away once he noticed Bridget had caught onto his stare. 

Blinking a few times to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, Bridget came face to face with Hook every time she opened her eyes. Not knowing what to do, a shy smile made its way onto her face to not seem rude under Hook’s stare. 

What Hook did next though threw her for a loop.

A smile of his own crept its way onto Hook’s face, the grin being more of a smirk than anything else. His eyes slowly crept up and down Bridget's frame before sending a wink her way, making a pink hue dust her cheeks as she zapped back around and faced the front of the classroom.

“Are you okay,” Ella asked, noting how Bridget was sitting with her spine straight and a flustered expression on her face. Still taking notes as she waited for an answer, Ella’s eyes ticked up to where Bridget was attempting to glance over her shoulder without getting caught and failing to do so. “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” Bridget quickly said, hands coming together and interlocking. Although Ella wasn’t born to much status like Bridget was, she could still notice when someone’s Princess was showing and that was exactly what was happening here as Bridget gushed to herself. Something regarding a boy had just happened and Ella was going to figure out what and who it was no matter what. “Everything is perfectly fine and normal. No reason to be worried at all.”

“Saying that just makes me more suspicious,” Ella warned, noticing how Bridget tensed up a little before sighing, almost as if her resolve was breaking. With just a little more pressure, Bridget would spill everything to her but it seemed like not much effort would be needed from Ella as Bridget was already undoing herself, fidgeting in her seat as she tried not to look back and giveaway who it was. Stopping for a moment before Ella looked back herself to see who it was, she rested a hand on Bridget’s arm and said, “It’s fine Bridget, you can tell me anything. I’m certainly not one to judge you.”

“You’re right,” Bridget smiled, returning the favour and grabbing onto Ella’s wrist, running a thumb over it. “I just noticed someone staring at me and…” “And you think they’re cute?” Ella finished the sentence for her, one of her eyebrows raising at Bridget as she waited for a response. Thinning her lips together, Bridget nodded her head, the blush that was previously coating her cheeks intensifying. “Okay, who is it?”

“Well…” Bridget trailed off, her eyes flicking backwards before looking back at Ella. With a nod of her head in his direction, the two of them looked back at the same time to see Hook still staring at Bridget, the same smirk still coating his face. His eyes didn’t move from Bridget’s face, solely focused on her and not even acknowledging Ella. Raising his hand that wasn’t occupied with a hook, Hook blew a kiss towards Bridget, a chuckle pouring from his mouth when both Bridget and Ella whipped back around.

“Did he just?” Bridget started, not having to finish her sentence for Ella to understand.

“Yeah,” She nodded, just as surprised as Bridget. This was news to Ella. She would have to do a serious amount of stalking and research before she let that pirate anywhere near her friend but for now, it wouldn’t hurt. “Looks like you won’t have to look too hard for a Castlecoming date.”

[stitch-away]

wip sunday

@perotovar tagged me so i am here to deliever

MDNI LOL,,, some horny neighbour joel i've had sitting in my docs for months

when joel opens the door, he immediately coughs, looking away from the tantalising line leading to your crotch. he taps his chest, making sure to look you in the eyes when he looks back at you. “whatcha doin’ ‘ere, kid?” joel coughs, his voice tight. you smirk, making his face falter and his eyes flicker down to your lips. this dirty old man. you slip your fingers further into your boxers, exposing more of your midriff. “nothin’, old man,” you shrug, “mama wanted me to give ya some cookies. thought some sugar might do ya good.” joel swallows and scoffs, shaking his head.  “ya think i need more sugar?” joel chuckles, frowning as he pats his belly. “i ain’t talkin’ about that gut o’ yers,” you say, “more like that attitude. now let me in. this ain’t very southern of ya– bein’ so stand off-ish.”  “whatever, tennessee,” he rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting you in. you dump the cookies on the kitchen counter and turn back to joel, leaning against it with a smile.  “what is it ya want, boy?” joel groans, raising an eyebrow as he crosses his broad arms over his chest. you stick your tongue out, tracing it along your lips. you watch in delight as joel’s eyes predictably follow the trail of your tongue.  “why ya always makin’ comments ‘bout my clothes?” you pout, “it ain’t kind– didn’ yer mama teach ya better?” joel chuckles.  “ah, i see,” he clicks his tongue, “ya got yer panties in a twist o’er that, huh? well, didn’ yer mama teach not t’ dress like a goddamn whore?” you frown, your pout growing.  “yer a real asshole, miller,” you mutter, pushing off the counter and stepping forwards. you walk up to joel until there’s barely an inch between the two of you. “tell me, ya ever put yers to good use?” joel coughs, his eyes shooting wide. he backs away but you grab him by his belt loops and pull him hard against your crotch. “answer the question, old man.” “y–yeah, i ‘ave,” he stutters, struggling to look you in the eyes. 

if anyone gets to tennessee williams reference ily

npt: @archive-of-ink @mushgloomz @itwasntimethatdidit40 @cosmickid-inmotion and anyone else idk

[ourfleur]

「Who Do You Belong To?」 [Johnny Cage x Fem Reader]

Summary: Being in a relationship with someone like Johnny Cage isn’t easy, especially when they have the same reputation he does, always so much attention always on you and your relationship. But maybe you can use that to your advantage, make them all know who this A-lister belongs to.

Tags: nsfw (basically just porn with a tiny plot lmao), semi public sex, au, dom&sub, switch reader, switch johnny, jealousy, possession, pet names (mostly baby)

An: hiii so this is my first time not only writing smut but also posting anything i write lol, i hope its not shit.. i pretty much only wrote this because i had this idea and no one had written anything like it so i wrote it myself.. anywaysss enjoy :3

follow my ao3

3 months. It had been only 3 months since you started dating the “infamous” Johnny Cage. 3 months and yet you were already more famous than 99% of the population would ever be.

You were still getting used to the fame, the constant cameras flashing in your face and the constant attention. You knew so many women would kill to be where you are, in the arms of Johnny, knowing that didn’t make life any easier. Constantly, new drama would stir up, rumours about you or your boyfriend breaking up or cheating on each other. But that… that was bearable. What wasn’t bearable was Johnny's co-star on his new movie. She wasn’t shy about wanting him and when the rumours started circulating of him ditching you for her she laughed it off and played stupid. “Oh really?”, she laughed, “I cannot confirm nor deny anything, it’s up to the fans imaginations.” That bitch made you livid.

This was supposed to be a relaxing day but you spent all of your time on Johnny's yacht reading the nasty and idiotic comments from the media. It was also extremely hard to relax considering the paparazzi was so close by, it seemed no matter where you went you could not escape them. But that revelation gave you an idea.

Getting up off the lawn chair you were lounging on, you pranced your way over to your boyfriend, who was occupied with writing his own movie. Taking the notebook out of his hands as you got on top of him. He was surprised at first but then smirked, eyeing the way your little body looked in that tiny bikini.

“Johnnyyyyy…” You whined while looking at him through half lidded eyes. Slowly, you grinded yourself on his clothed dick. “I need you right now.” You smiled, seeing the way his face contorted as you moved yourself across his lap. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, “I need everyone to understand who you belong to, so do me a favour and fuck me where they all can see.” You felt him hardening underneath you at your words. “Fuck, whatever you say baby.”

You leaned into each other, mouths crashing together in an aggressive kiss. Continuing to grind on each other while making out, only breaking to release some particularly intense whimpers. His large hands running all over your tiny body. Moving your hands down his chiselled abs, you reached the prize. Palming him through his shorts, which elicited the prettiest moans from his mouth.

Finally, you took his cock out, glistening with precum. You ran your delicate hand up and down his shaft, fingers tracing his pretty little veins and squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. You raised yourself up, letting him pull your bottoms to the side. You aligned yourself with him and slowly sunk down, making you both moan. You looked out across the water, seeing the many cameras, all focused on you and him. You began moving, listening as he moaned out your name. The way his thick cock stretched you always took you over the edge. You grinded your pretty pussy on him, over and over, not even paying attention to the poor mess of a man beneath you, only staring out at the cameras. Making sure they caught every glimpse of the way you could so easily destroy this big-shot A lister.

“No one else can make you feel this way, right baby?” You purred. “Yes.. fuckkkkk baby yes only you.” You could feel him twitch inside of you while he spoke, he was close. You frowned, “Well that cunt you work with seems to think she owns you.” You pulled yourself off of him, watching him groan with annoyance, his orgasm being denied. “What the fuck? I was close.” Cursing out your name. “Well it’s no fun if we just sit here…” You said, getting off him and leading him to the edge of the boat, your body facing the paparazzi across the water. You bent down in front of him, putting on a show as you pulled down your bikini bottoms. As you did he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your cunt. You turned back around and moved towards him, arms reaching to grab his hair, suddenly shoving him down on his knees. “Be a good boy and eat me out while your adoring fans watch, maybe then I will let you have what you want.” Your sultry tone doing indescribable things to him.

He started by slowly nibbling and biting at your thighs, hands wrapping around them with ease. You groaned, “Don’t tease me Johnny.” Eyes staring daggers down at him. “Whatever you say…” And with that, he dove right in. His tongue flicking and circling around your clit in ways that could only be described as heavenly. Your hands dug into his hair, shoving his face closer to your aching core. He then moved his mouth down, lapping like a dog at your slick, his nose lightly grazing over your clit, leaving so much more to be desired. Your moans were getting so loud at this point you wouldn't be surprised if everyone on the beach could hear you. “Fuck Johnny, I’m close, you’re doing so good… You look so good on your knees.” Your brain turning to mush as you babble random praises, your orgasm steadily approaching.

And when it hit you were a mess. Moaning out curses and his name, legs turning to jelly. The only thing to stop you from collapsing was his hands, which were glued to your hips. After you finally regained the ability to stand on your own Johnny stood up. Licking the left behind slick on his lips with his tongue. You were about to bark another command at him before he interrupted you. “Agh fuck this. I can't take this anymore.” You were about to question him before he grabbed you, turning you around so he can bend you over on the edge of the boat. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Im fucking tired of this, it’s my turn to ruin you, sound good baby?” His voice sent chills down your spine. You nodded, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. He leaned back and soon you felt his cock between your thighs, gliding along your folds. Then, suddenly, the feeling was gone. You turned back to face johnny only to see him walking towards his chair. He grabbed his phone and then winked at you. “For safekeeping yknow?” He finally was back behind you, stroking himself a bit before finally easing himself into you. He groaned your name, taking you fully. You could hardly contain your whimpers when he started moving.

“You look so good on camera, fuck, you should star in one of my films.” He laughed, now moving at a pace all too slow. “I’ll only star in it if I get to fuck you in it.” You responded, releasing a breath that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. He took his free hand and moved it to your clit, rough fingers circling it at an insane pace. The combination of him pounding into you and hitting that special spot inside if you and him rubbing your clit had you seeing stars. With the way you were moaning and the way your cunt was tightening around his cock he could tell you were close. “You’re so beautiful when you’re whining around my cock.” He chuckled. “F-fuck.. Johnny please I'm so close.” You stuttered out. Suddenly he grabbed you by your hair, pulling you back into his chest. He held the phone out in front of the 2 of you while beginning a relentless pace. “Smile for the camera while you come undone babe. This is your glamour shot.” You could barely focus on what he was saying due to the pleasure that was shooting through your body. He moved his hand from your hair to your neck and squeezed a little. “I said smile.” His tone was stern and that was the last straw. The knot in your stomach snapped and you came, making sure to look into the camera and smile, per his request. Your moans were near pornographic as you shook from your orgasm, falling back onto the edge of the yacht. He pulled out of you and you couldn’t help notice, he still hadn’t cummed. You turned around and glanced down to his still-hard cock and then to his face.

“You gonna come over here and fix this or what?” He questioned, smirking while he spoke. “I guess it’s only fair… you have been so good to me today Johnny.” You turned, falling to your knees. Now eye level with his length. You moved your hands to it, gently stroking your boyfriends dick, trying to see what reactions and noises you could get to come out of his pretty face. You brought your mouth to his tip, doing short kitten licks to his slit. You moved your tongue all over his cock, licking and tenderly tracing every vein with your tongue. “Come on.. don’t punish me more than you already have..” He begged, looking down at you with those puppy dog eyes you just couldn’t resist. “Grab your phone Johnny, let’s see if that whore will understand who you belong to after this.” He was taken aback by your request but nonetheless complied. The moment he started recording you were ready to put on the performance of a lifetime.

Never taking your eyes off the camera, you stuffed his cock into your mouth. Johnny quietly whimpered at the feeling of you taking him in his mouth but before he could savour it, you pulled his dick out of your mouth with a ‘pop’. “Don’t try and quiet those moans Johnny, I need to make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He nodded and you eased your mouth back onto him. Johnny had never seen something more beautiful than you choking on his cock. The way your mouth worked had him sure he was in heaven. His breathing sped up and he grabbed your hair. “Fuck i’m so close, let me fuck this pretty face.” You nodded and he gripped your hair tighter. He was so rough, whimpering and crying out with pleasure while shoving his dick as far down your throat as he could. His thrusts started to become sloppy and before you knew it he was painting your throat white and releasing the hottest groans and praises. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and bent down to inspect his work. “You are so gorgeous, I can never get enough of seeing your little mouth filled with my cum.” He smiled, ending the video and throwing his phone to the side while you swallowed.

Safe to say that the internet was going wild for a few months after the paparazzi released those pictures… and safe to say that his stupid co-star didn’t do shit like that again.

[breezybangtanbebe]

Mine: JJK💋

A/N: an oldie from my WP Oneshot series🥰 might be slightly unedited because I pulled it from the archives. Forgive the typos por favor..

Tags: JungkookxReader,established relationship, possessive boyfriend Kookie 😋, Halloween party themed, public sex, teasing, edging, raw sex, creampie 😌✨

4.3k words

"Hold up.....that's what you're wearing?"

Jungkook stops midstride as he stepped away from the steamy bathroom, the small towel shifting quickly underneath his hands as he dried his damp hair. Water still dripped down his bare chest and torso, collecting in the dips of his abs and naval. His bath towel that was barely clinging to his waist shifts as his dick stiffens at the sight of your exposed skin.

You were standing in front of the wall-sized mirror beside your vanity, touching up your make up and fluffing your hair, which laid in full wavy coifs all around your head and down your back. You didn't glance over at Jungkook at the sound of his question, but a part of you knew exactly what was going on in his mind.

The two of you were attending Jimin's yearly Halloween party at his family's lake house just outside of the city. Since freshman year of college, this party was a regular thing, gaining more and popularity as time went on.

Costumes were optional, ranging from minuscule to extravagant. And the two of you tended to ride that middle line when it came to what you wore to these functions.

Well, more so you.

Jungkook could wear a brown paper bag as a costume and still turn heads. Something that before dating him was much less annoying. You stifled your distaste for what Jungkook had set out for tonight. Mainly because it was hot as fuck.

Your boyfriend's normal aesthetic consisted of dark colors, loose-fitting, and a bit emo. But tonight he was going for a bolder look.

Blood red pants that hugged his buff thighs, a matching loose blazer lined with patterned silk and print button-up that you knew would NOT be buttoned up.

He'd always had an amazing physique and filled out whatever he wore. Something you had a love/hate relationship with since making things official. And by no means were you unnattractive. You just preferred to play it cool with how you dressed as to not attract unwanted attention.

But this year, you figured it was time for you to switch it up as well.

"Hmm?" you murmur in response to the question, leaning closer to your reflection to check your lashes. You then planted a gentle hand on the mirror for support, extending your back and deepening your arch to give Jungkook and eyeful of your plump curvy backside from where he was still standing off to the side. He gawks at your voluptuousness for a few seconds before blinking away his thoughts and snapping out of it.

"Don't 'hmmm' me. Turn around." Jungkook steps up behind you, pulling you by your elbow so that you faced him. You huffed stubbornly as you turned on your heels and looked up at him with a full-on pout.

"Whaaaat Kook..." you whine, but your boyfriend isn't phased. He only examines your outfit, glancing over your shoulder at the mirror to see the way your dress stopped just below the curve of your ass cheeks. You unconsciously reached back tug at the hem to pull it only a fraction lower. Jungkook smirks but the expression doesn't meet his eyes when returns his gaze to you.

"I thought you said you were dressing up as a witch..." he quirks a brow at you.

You looked down at your outfit as if you hadn't picked it out yourself and frown innocently.

A witch, indeed you were.

Your skin-tight black dress clung to your body perfectly, accentuating every dip and curve on your somewhat petite body. The sleeves were long, wide at the opening, and hanging down from your wrists at a point. Seeming ordinary from behind, disregarding how short it was, the front of the dress was the real focal point.

A deep plunging neckline, stopping just above your navel, exposed the smooth skin of your cleavage and sternum. Thin black strings were woven through tiny holes lining the v-neck, creating diamonds up to your bust.

"I am. See?" You point to the witch hat a black pair of tall thigh-high heeled boots laying on the floor near the door and Jungkook follows your finger with his eyes. His jaw drops are the shiny leather and he does his best not to drool at the visual of you in them.

"Well...Don't you think this ...costume...is a bit much? I mean...My friends are gonna be there and..." he stammers, pausing as he returned his gaze to you.

"Aaaand..so are mine. What's your point?" you tilt your head and bat your lashes, making Jungkook clear his throat. He takes a look at the back of your body again in the mirror then stared down at the woven laces cutting down your front and between your breasts and drags his teeth over the pink flesh of his inner bottom lip.

You smirked.

"My point is...don't you have a dress that's longer than that? One that covers your ass and tits a bit more?"

You don't even attempt to stifle your scoff at his words, taking a tiny step back to look Jungkook up and down. Which might have been a mistake considering he was still naked and incredibly tempting.

But you held your scowl as you continued.

"Did I say anything about your costume last year? Or now? What the hell are you supposed to be anyway?" you fold your arms over your chest.

Jungkook narrows his brow and shrugs before pointing to the bed, where his outfit was draped over the comforter.

"I'm a vampire...see?" pointing with emphasis at the set of fake fangs placed next to the collar of his blazer. Your eyes follow his hand and you roll your eyes at the tiny white fangs.

"And last year was different. Last year, you weren't mine..." Jungkook pulls your gaze from the bed with his tone as he continues with a pout.

"Are you saying you don't like it what I'm wearing?" you say and Jungkook snorts, reaching up to rub at his nape with a conflicted expression.

"Babe.....is that a serious question? It doesn't matter if I like it or not. I don't know...I just don't want you to be uncomfortable...."  he drops his hand and steps up to close the gap between you, glancing over your shoulder again to stare at your ass.

When you notice the crease of uncertainty in his expression, you let out a sigh.

"Well.....would you be uncomfortable if I wore this?" you gazed up at him. Feeling your eyes, Jungkook tears his away from your reflection.

"Huh? What?...no...Im just saying.." he stammers, his eyes still flitting back to the mirror at your outfit and you can't help but be amused by his distracted features.

You knew you were playing with fire. But tonight was supposed to be fun. So after allowing him to oggle you for a few more seconds, you turn around to face the mirror with a smirk. Jungkook watched you fluff your hair, smudge your dark lips together, and cup at your cleavage to make sure everything was as it should be. Then you locked eyes with his and shrugged.

"Then I'm wearing it. Hurry up and get dressed. We're already late...."

As you turned to walk away from the mirror, you yelp in surprise when you feel Jungkook yanking your arm back, turning you and pressing you against the glass forcefully.

"Jungkook what are you...ah.." your voice trails off into a moan when you feel the front of your dress being lifted. Jungkook nudges at your foot with his, making you spread your legs and grant him access to the apex of your thighs.

Your breathing hitched when you felt his fingers grazing the thin fabric of your panties, the tip of his middle finger drawing a line over the slit of your lips teasingly.

"You don't think...I'm insecure? Do you?" his voice drops an octave, almost to a rasp, and your bottom lip trembles as you struggled to find your words.

"Hmm?" Jungkook questions as he lifted his hand to let it slip under the elastic and down beneath the lace. When his hand makes contact with your sex you gape at the feeling.

"N..No..." you stammer as Jungkook rubs your pussy gently, not trying to focus his touch on any particular area just yet.

"Good...because I'm not...because I already know this..." he pauses as he presses his middle finger down over your clit, creating that pressure and friction your boxy craved.

"...is all mine. You know that right?" Jungkook says slowly, matching the pace of how he rubbed your swollen bud with intent.

You braced your hands at his strong shoulders, moaning softly in response, encouraging Jungkook to up his efforts.

"Mine?" he repeats, leaning closer to kiss your lips tenderly. He pulls back to catch your reaction to his touch, dipping his fingers through your slit to lubricate his actions over your clit over and over until your mouth gapes.

You knew he was waiting for you to respond...

But who could talk with a hand stuffed into their panties like that?

His finger repeated the teasing action on your clit and whimper softly, making Jungkook smile.

"Wear whatever you want baby...Just remember who you belong to,"  he says softly, leaning in briefly to press his lips to your forehead. As he did, you were barely aware of his fingers abandoning your clit until you felt them gliding past your entrance, plunging deep inside of you.

You gasp at the sudden intrusion, letting your head tilt back to hit the glass as Jungkook trailed feather-light kisses down the side of your face and neck, his fingers curling inside of you as he rubbed at the rigid wet flesh.

"This is mine?" he murmurs against your throat, parting his lips to draw his tongue over your pulse, already getting in character for tonight it seems. His teeth graze your skin and your knees start to weaken at the pace of his fingers.

"Mmhmm" you hum in response, pressing your lips together to keep from crying out. Your breathing quickened and your eyes began to roll as you felt your fuse beginning to burn out. The familiar heat building deep inside of you, the tingle of sensation signaling the nearing of your release.

Jungkook chuckles softly as he bit down on your neck and sucked it gently as his fingers began to move faster against your spot until he could feel your walls clenching hard around him, almost pushing him out as you came on his hand.

"That's my girl..." he hissed as you cried out, shaking and digging your nails into his shoulders as his fingers slowed inside of you.

Jungkook slowly pulls his hand away and lifts his head to catch your blissful expression.

Red cheeks and glossy eyes.

Smeared black lipstick beyond the line of your mouth from biting your lips.

You were so perfect to him despite all of it.

He glares down at you with fondness and adoration, his freshly scrubbed skin glowing a smooth tan underneath the lights of your bedroom, and the ever intoxicating scent of his body wash and shampoo fills your senses. You resist the urge to bite your lip as your eyes skimmed over the smooth marbled flesh of his chest, only inches away from your face.

"You're....an..asshole..." you murmur as you panted. Jungkook grins wickedly as he stepped away, brushing his wet hand over the towel at his hips. He bites his lip as he looked down at your trembling knees and dark panties, which were completely soaked through and dripping between you spread legs.

As you widened the gap to keep your dress from getting wet, Jungkook backs away still grinning as he began to dress. He pulls his underwear up beneath his towel, tossing it aside before reaching for his pants.

He cuts you a brief look as he dressed and smirks.

"Looks like you'll have to take those off....."

Jimins house was packed. Cars lined the street and driveway and music could be heard all the way down road. It was a good thing they were deep in the woods, otherwise, there would have been a plethora of noise complaints plaguing the local police station.

The two of you entered the large house hand in hand, greeted happily by mutual friends and classmates. There were many new faces among the familiars, many people not in actual costumes. The looks of wanting and approval of Jungkooks "costume" didnt go unnoticed by you. But neither did the gawks and stares of appreciation for your curves in your dress go unnoticed by your date.

He played it cool though.

Jungkook's behavior wasnt too peculiar as the night progressed. Sure he stayed on your ass majority of the night, dancing closely and holding you by the waist or clutching your hand possessively. But you didn't mind the attention. You absolutely loved it when Jungkook got like this.

He was absolutely the jealous and possesive type but in a healthy way. He never stopped you from being you. But he also had his own ways of coping with it. And he intended on letting you feel how much the attention your costume was drawing was effecting him.

The fact that he knew you still werent wearing panties didnt help that either.

As Jimins house grew more and more crowded, and your feet were beginning to feel sore from dancing and standing in those heels, you and Jungkook eventually found large plushy love seat in farthest corner of the living room.

You were seated comfortably between Jungkooks legs, your back to his front, vibing out and mingling with friends as they passed.

After a while, as the alcohol really began to settle in, you found yourself nestling against your boyfriends hard chest and mumbling along to whatever song was playing.

Jungkook held you close, cradling you in his lap, rubbing at the exposed skin of your thighs gently as his buzz deepened.

"i looove this song.." You groaned out suddenly as the musc changed and a sultry guitar began strumming and the smooth vocals filled the wide space.

Jungkook lifted his brow as you pushed up from his chest to sit up and let your feet touch the floor.

You slowly began dancing from where you were perched on his lap, humming the melody drunkenly and winding your hips in slow circles to the beat. You felt Jungkooks body stiffen slightly beneath you and you smiled inwardly at the feel of his hands slowly coming up to grip you at your waist.

"Hey Beautiful.....what are you doing...." Jungkook says to you, his chest vibrating against your back as you continued to grind back against his lap.

"Babe....." Jungkook he sighs in your ear, a warning in his voice evident as you reached back to touch his hair, still snaking your body to the beat.

"Dont think you can tease me baby..." you hear and feel warm against your cheek as Jungkook leaned into your touch, gripping your hips and letting his hands slide over your thighs and back to your waist.

".....and dont think I wont fuck you right now....in front of everyone....Im not that drunk..." his husky whispers make you bite down on your lip, mischief sparking in your eyes and excitement strumming in your chest at the thought.

You looked around at the many people only a few feet from where you and Jungkook were tucked away. Sure the music was loud, the dim lighting and smoke was concealing them enough. But anyone could walk over to the couches to sit. Any of their friends could come over to talk. At any moment.

That alone was enough to turn you on even more. The idea of getting fucked in front of everyone and the possibility of getting caught had you clenching with need and you already knew you were beginning to drip because pf the alcohol.

Fuck it.

You ignored him as you kept rubbing your ass over him, knowing exactly what you were doing. Teasing him in small circles with your hips and letting your hair sway over your back. Seducing him with your curves and shameless lapdance as if no one was watching.

This only went on for a few seconds until you felt Jungkooks body relax, his hands at your hips gliding back to tug at the back of your dress. You gasp when you feel his warm hands on your bare ass, squeezing at your pliant skin as you continued to move.

Jungkook shifted behind you, lifting his hips just enough to unbutton his pants and push the front of his underwear down to free himself.

Your breathing hitched when you felt how hard he actually was, almost pulsing beneath your heat. Jungkook eased back in the seat, his chest heaving at the feel of you sliding the face of your pussy over his shaft, slicking his length with your wetness.

"Youre so fucking wet baby..fuck..." Jungkook murmured as you slid over him, the tip of him brushing against your clit and entrance with every movement.

You whined at the delicious tease , your hands braced on the arms of the chair as you rocked your hips back and forth. You lifted up slightly  and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to grip himself at the base, lining the head of his dick up with your slickness and rubbing it against you gently as you moved.

Seeking permission to enter.

With hooded eyes, you glanced around at the party still occurring around the two of you. Everyone seemed completely distracted, drunk or high and under the haze of the atmosphere. Nobody even paying any attention to the horny couple in the shadowed corner of the house.

So slowly, you sank yourself down on him, a low groan and hiss of satisfaction escaping the both of you at the feel of finally being connected. You pressed yourself back until your bare ass was flush against Jungkooks pelvis. The stretch inside of you was welcome, your walls already quivering and trembling around him. They ached for more. They ached for stimulus. They ached for movement.

So you obeyed your body and began to wind your hips again, rising a few inches and sliding back down.

"Fuck..."Jungkook grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight at the feel of you taking him, your body swallowing him and enveloping him with your warmth. Out of reflex, Jungkook thrusted upward to meet your stroke.

You couldnt stifle the moan of surprise at the feel of Jungkooks tip hitting hard at the very back of your desire. It almost hurt but the pain quickly subsided when you felt Jungkook shift behind you.

The chair begins to recline a bit, allowing Jungkook to lean back enough so that his range of motion was extended. And just when you were about to continue riding him, he holds you still by the waist and starts flexing his hips up into you.

Jungkook fucks you deep but agonizingly slow, stroking your body to the soothing rhythm of the song drowning out your moans.

He felt so good, too good. And you bowed your head in an attempt to hidd your face from those in front of you. But you didnt hinder your moans of pleasure as you tried your best to fuck back against Jungkooks deep strokes.

Jungkooks bottom lip stung from his bite, the skin trapped between his teeth as he focused all of us strength into his core and legs as he rammed into you. His hands were digging into your hips, squeezing you and holding your body in place as he chased your high. You were so close, your walls clenching him in and your head falling back as you cried out.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your vision fell out of focus as Jungkook hit your spot with ferocity and it only takes a few more strokes for you to explode around him.

You felt Jungkook sitting up to wrap his arms around your waist, still moving inside of you but more staccato as he relished in the feel of your cresting orgasm.

You felt his shallow breathe at your ear and your head lolls weakly to lean back against his as Jungkook slipped in and out of your walls.

"Mine?...This is mine?" His husky tone sends a chill down your spine,adding to the overwhelming combination of sensations already rushing over your flushed skin.

You moaned softly in response, biting your lip and tightening around him as if that were the answer and Jungkook groans low in his chest as his strokes became stagnant. He held you close, trapping your body against his as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You felt the warmth of his seed coating your walls and another shiver hits your when you feel Jungkooks lips at your ear. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was hot. His teeth nibbled at your lobe softly before he parted his lips to speak

"Kiss me.." he exhales and you immediately turn your head, craning your neck back to lock lips with Jungkook sloppily.

He slowly loosens his arms around you, letting his hands slide back to hold you at your waist as he kissed you. His tongue tasted like green apple jolly rancher and tequila, rolling and twisting with yours, humming low in his throat.

Your walls contracted around Jungkook reflexively when you felt his hand circling your throat gently, coaxing you and leading the kiss as he softened inside you.

The air surrounding the two of you felt thicker, every sound and movement suspended in a place apart from where you were. In this corner, in the house full of people..

The two of existed in a little bubble of bliss on the couch in the shadows. Kissing each other tenderly and passionately, wrapped in Jungkooks strong arms as you leaned back against him.

As if it were instinctive, your eyes open to notice someone approaching the corner and you break the kiss just your little bubble of love is popped by..

"...shit...Taehyung! Hey!" you blurt out, forcing Jungkooks eyes to open wide.

Taehyung steps up through the smoke ,a red cup in hand and his eyes hooded in his half assed Joker costume and stops right in front of the loveseat.

"Tae..Bro...whats up?" Jungkook sits up, repositioning you on his lap and pulling your dress down as much as he could. The movement makes you even more aware of the fact that Jungkooks dick was still inside of you, trapping majority of his dripping cum from drizzle out of you as you both looked up at a drunk and oblivious Taehyung.

"You guys are so fucking cute...its gross" he chuckles, tipping his cup up to take a sip. He takes a long draft of his drink and swallows before continuing.

"Anyway...Jungkook! We're setting up for a round of beer pong in the back. How bout it? Me and you vs Jimin and Hobi..." he slurs loudly over the music.

"Cool. Yea...We'll be right out..." Jungkook yells in response, masking his annoyance seamlessly and Taehyung nods. He shoots you a knowing wink before turning away and youre eyes widen.

He didn't know what had just occurred over here....did he?

You dont have much time to ponder over the thought though.

As soon as he disappeared among the crowd, Jungkook was lifting you from his lap and guiding you to stand, still holding you at your waist. The moment his dick slipped out of you, you pressed your thighs together as tight as you could.

The walk to the nearby bathroom was comical, the two of you shuffling closely with one in front of the the other. Both sheilding each others wet and soiled areas until you reached the privacy of the bathroom.

After doing the necessary things one must do after spontaneous raw couch sex, you were standing in front of the sink assessing your appearance as Jungkook stood wide legged nearby over the toilet with his head back.

"Well...This dress is done for." you huff at your reflection, the seat of the black fabric stained with sex and release. Jungkook lifts his head and gazes over at you and grunts in amusement as he flushed.

His eyes fell to the back of your dress that was not only stained and wet, but parts of it were ripped and stretched beyond repair.

"Here.." he says as he turns to you at the sink while you turn to face him curiously.

Without a thought, he removes his red blazer and drapes it over your shoulders.

"There...We're going outside anyway and Im kind of over Taehyung staring at your ass." he mumbles bitterly as he fixed the garment over your petite body.

You smirk at his jealous remark.

"He can look... But he knows who I belong to.." you arch your brow and Jungkook mirrors you as he placed his hands at your waist beneath his blazer. He pulls your forward into his chest and reaches lower to cup your ass cheeks.

"Act like you fucking know then...." he growls as he dipped his neck to hover over your lips.

You lift your chin to plant a few soft kisses to them, rolling your eyes and giggling against him when he squeezed you harder.

"....that is too bad about the dress though...."he murmurs as he pulled away, loosening his grip on your ass and stepping back to look down at your body.

"I kinda liked it..."

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  steddieas_shegoes! @steddieas-shegoes has 382 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and 355 of them are in the Steddie tag!

@starryeyedjanai recommends the following works by @steddieas-shegoes:

call me sunshine, send me to space

we'd shake the frame of your car

this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation

driver roll up the partition please

"Mickala is a PILLAR in this fandom. She's doing microfics, she's doing multiple month-long challenges at the same time, she's writing a big bang that I am frothing at the mouth over reading soon. She's doing it ALL!!!! She's written an absurd amount of words in such a short amount of time and I am just in awe of her 💕💕💕" -- @starryeyedjanai

Below the cut, @steddieas-shegoes answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Because my love for Steve Harrington could no longer be contained, and neither could Eddie’s. Because have you seen those two? Look at them. Keep looking at them. They’re so!

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

This list is longer than any of us have the time to read, but I will say that enemies to lovers or exes to lovers has been hitting the spot hard lately. I’m also a sucker for a good modern au, like texting the wrong number or rockstar Eddie and otherwise famous Steve.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

At the heart of everything I write, they’re stupid in love. Whether they know it or not, whether they say it or not, they are. I think my favorite tag to use is idiots to lovers or idiots in love because it’s true. They’re just dumb for each other and it’s so fun to write from every angle.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

Okay my absolute all time favorite fic of any fandom I have ever read anything in is Tuesday's Gone With the Wind - Chapter 1 - thisapplepielife - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]. It changed me from the inside out. I think about this fic every single day, sometimes multiple times a day.  But I do also have to say my very, very close second would be start by pulling him out of the fire by pricklywhicket. There is no better Wayne fic, there could never be a better Wayne fic. If you love Wayne, and you love Eddie, and you love Steve, and you love Steddie, this is the fic to read.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I tend to avoid writing heavy angst of any kind, mostly because I tend to also avoid reading it unless it has a happy ending. But I have two things currently in my notes app that are very angsty, one of them would possibly have a more open/slightly unhappy ending, and I might be brave and do it. It’s the one area that I know I haven’t delved into.

What is your writing process like?

There’s a process? You guys are following a process? Oh shit, I didn’t know. But seriously, the process looks a lot like: *has idea *types what should be headcanon of said idea *headcanon becomes 2500 words of actual story *posts I really just go with the flow. I don’t edit 90% of the time, I don’t have a beta reader (except for my bang fic), I rarely even go in with a full-fledged plan. Whatever happens, happens.

Do you have any writing quirks?

If I write Steve with a migraine in something, it usually means I was suffering from a migraine at the time. I almost always give him similar symptoms to mine, though I usually dramatize them a little for the hurt/comfort of it all. They say write what you know and boy do I know migraines.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I have only written a handful of chaptered fics, and I tried to follow as much of a schedule as I could, but I don’t. I get too excited and I end up just posting as soon as something is finished.

Which fic are you most proud of?

This is a hard one. I am proud that I ever even posted the first thing I did. This was the first fandom I ever published anything in, and I was pretty nervous about sharing something I wrote in a rush on my notes app. But I think I’m most proud of call me sunshine, send me to space. It challenged me to take this one on, and while I know I probably wouldn’t write it the same if I were to write it now, I know that it will always be there as proof of how far you can come if you keep doing the thing.

How did you get the idea for call me sunshine, send me to space?

Uh…personal experience? I was getting a small tattoo and had my usual reaction and then went home and said to myself “Steve would end up in a situation about this” and then I wrote the situation. Which is actually how so much of my works start.

When writing call me sunshine, send me to space, what was something you didn’t expect?

The amount of love it’s gotten! It was still kind of my early days of posting on AO3 and I had only just started really interacting on tumblr, so it shocked me how quickly people started commenting and asking to be on the tag list. That fic is what “put me on the map” I guess, and is definitely responsible for all of the friendships I’ve made in the last year.

What inspired this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation?

A silly little headcanon I posted that got way out of hand in my thoughts and then on paper. We tend to lean more towards the single dad Steve thing, especially myself, but then I completely ran with the single dad Eddie thing, and a whole fic came out of it.

What was your favorite part to write from this place is such great motivation for anyone trying to move the fuck away from hibernation?

This fic was my worst enemy for months. I was so busy in real life that I felt like I wasn’t able to give it the attention it deserved. I had a few favorite parts, but I think the first time Mia calls Steve ‘Mama’ is up there for sure. It kinda sets the tone for the whole fic that Steve is meant to be in their lives and this baby knows it before the rest of them.

How do/did you feel writing we'd shake the frame of your car?

Honestly, I was just trying to stick to as much of the prompts as possible. Since it was a gift for Sandy, I wanted to make sure it was the best gift I could give!

What was the most difficult part of writing driver roll up the partition please?

Keeping it on the shorter side! If it were up to me, ficlets like that would be 20k minimum, but because it was for an event and I tend to take on more than I can actually handle, it had to stay short.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I have a lot of lines that I really love that I am always in awe that I managed to write. But I think I am most excited about the scene in my upcoming bang fic, the scene that came to me before anything else for this fic and inspired the whole thing.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

My bang fic bear hugs starts posting on September 27th. If you like hockey, single dad steve, and friends to lovers, this is THE fic for you. I also co-mod for steddie microfic, which is a monthly exact word count challenge with a new prompt and word count every month; I run Steddie Song Fics, a monthly writing challenge that changes every month with new songs, word count limits, genres, and more; I run Steddie Holiday Drabbles, which is a daily drabble event that takes place in December, with multiple pop-up events throughout the year; and if this posts in time, I am running Steddie Smutty September, an 18+ only event that will have weekly writing and art prompts for the month of September.    

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Thank you to whoever nominated me, and thank you to everyone who supports me and other authors by liking, commenting, reblogging, and recommending fics!

Thank you to our author, @steddieas-shegoes, and our nominator, @starryeyedjanai! See more of steddieas_shegoes's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[raeart-xo]

Silly Kafka Hibino/Reader thing ?

Summary: Kafka safely walks drunk reader home after a work get-together and makes sure they are looked after once there.

Notes: Reader insert is gender-neutral but has longer hair and some of the work loosely implies female anatomy/feminine traits.

The idea was floated in my general direction by @ceviinx in a Discord server we are in, so naturally, the fic is dedicated to her (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Link to the AO3 post above, or read the whole thing here below the break:

(STOP! Don't forget to read the tags!)

You, Kafka, and some of his work colleagues as well as colleagues of your own were all out together at a nice fancy little izakaya restaurant. Naturally, you were sitting beside Kafka. He's not anything special, but the both of you are kind of close. You aren't sure if you like like him, or if you're just fond of him. Whichever it is, everyone was drinking. You're not great at holding your drink, and your drunk self is...

“Ugh...I swear... I- uhbfh...I'm never drinking again...” Your words slur, your footing is unsteady and your legs wobble beneath you. Maybe it was one drink too many, maybe it was five. However many it was, it has resulted in you slumped over, vomit and half a drink on your shirt, shoes in your hands, braced against the body of Kafka. As gross of a state as you're in, he does his best to mind you.

“Well c'mon now, we both know that's just not true.” Kafka replies with a dry chuckle. He has one arm around your waist, the other arm holding one of yours secure around his broad shoulders. He makes an effort to hold you more steady as he guides you tentatively up some stairs. Your legs disagree with this decision, feet screaming in agony and balance completely off-kilter, but you have no choice.

“Just a little further, hold out a bit longer, ‘kay?” He reassures you, tone gentle. Your body doesn't want to, but you groan out some kind of sound of agreement as you reach the top of the stairs. Bare feet scrape against the concrete until, finally, Kafka stops in front of the door to your apartment. “Keys.” He prompts gently.

You drop your shoes on the ground, giving your pockets a good rummage as Kafka mumbles in wonderment at exactly how and when you managed to take your shoes off between here and the restaurant. Oh, there they are! You pull the keyring out of your pocket and try, embarrassingly, to insert a key into the lock. You swear you can manage it, you do this all the time, this should be easy--

“This is painful to watch.” Kafka complains, snatching up the keys with his hand and sorting through them with his finger and thumb. He selects the right key and throws the door open with ease.

Immediately, you break free of his grip to stumble into your apartment. Tripping over yourself, you crawl like an animal to your toilet. The toilet bowl calls to you, and Kafka leaves you to your own devices for a few moments as he gathers up your shoes and takes off his. He drops your keys onto the kitchen counter and joins you in the bathroom. The man squats down on the floor beside you and rubs your upper back soothingly as you spill whatever is left of your guts into the toilet.

“I'm sorry...” You whine between gasps for breath. Tears stream down your face. You sit up straighter and run the back of your hand over your mouth and the palm of the opposite hand over your eye.

Kafka raises an eyebrow at you. “Sorry? For what?” He leans closer and gathers some of your hair up, taking care to hold it behind your head. Something he realised he should have done sooner, since some of the ends of your hair are already damp with...something.

“I'm gross and drunk...” You slur out, “and-- uhb...you could be home in bed right now but-” You hunch over again and spit into the toilet, taking a few deep breaths.

When you sit back up, your hands seize the hem of your stained, baggy shirt and pull it over your head. You struggle with it, and Kafka needs to take his hand out of your hair, but eventually manage to remove the offending garment. When you do, Kafka seems to be making a very concentrated effort of keeping his eyes off of you.

“You're not gross.” He says towards the wall. “I deal with way worse at work. A little bit of puke’s not gonna count me out.” He very tentatively returns his hand to your upper back. Calloused palm rubs the smooth skin and feels comfortable. You lean over the toilet and giggle madly, your hair falling into your face before he has any time to notice through his eye contact with the wall.

“Kafka’s so cheesy.” You snort, tilting your head back and spitting your hair out of your mouth. When you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, his face is beet red from ear to ear. Despite this, his expression reads like he's trying to remain stoic. He's doing a bad job of hiding it, but your drunk brain is doing a worse job of reading into it.

Kafka helps you gather your hair out of your face with a resigned sigh, wondering to himself if there are any hair ties nearby but not wanting to risk rummaging through your things. In the few moments he takes to ponder this possibility, you've begun to wander off. Feeling a little better after throwing up all the gross, you try to stand on unsteady legs to walk across to your bathroom and Kafka has to catch you for that mistake.

“What are you doing?” The man asks, sounding a little annoyed or maybe shaken. He's holding you in his arms and you look up at him with blurry vision and blink a few times.

“I wanna bath.” You grumble. He stares at you blankly. The thought of you taking a bath when you cannot even keep your own hair out of your toilet or stand upright without support is one that ends only in disaster in his mind. But how does he convey that without sounding like a total creep?!

“Uhh...” The man holds that vowel for a while, until the note dies out on its own. You clearly need it, but... Tactfully now Kafka, don't make it weird. “By...yourself..?” No!!! That's so weird!? He reprimands himself, but you're blissfully ignorant of his internal struggle.

“Hmm..” You lean back against his chest and think about it. “I guess you can join if you wanna..?”

“THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT-!!” Kafka blurts, loud and flustered. He'd probably shove you away if he could do so in good conscience. The man takes a moment to collect himself. He only partially succeeds. “I just don't wantcha to drown in the damn bath! What kinda lousy friend would I be if I let that happen on my watch, huh?!”

You stick a finger in his face and shush him, but you can't help but laugh in his face too. “Shhh...I have neighbours.” You giggle, “Stop yelling and start taking me to the bathroom.” Despite the slur in your words and the childish giggling, your order leaves Kafka no room to argue. So he obliges you. Practically carries you to the bathroom and sits you down on the floor while he fiddles with your taps.

Kafka holds his hands under the stream of water to make sure the temperature is good while you undress behind him. Was your nakedness to be expected? Yes. Was it still very much to his horror? Also yes. He does a good job of hiding his reaction however. You step into the bath and sit down as it's still filling, knees close to your chest and hairbrush in hand.

Internally, Kafka winces at the thought of you getting in without at least rinsing off first. But it isn't his place to say anything about that. He pulls over the bath stool and sits next to you outside the bath.

When it appears that you're struggling with the hairbrush, he frowns and reaches out a helpful hand. He curls his fingers in a “gimme” motion and you get the idea. You hand over the hairbrush and turn your back to him.

Part of you expects to feel like your scalp is being attacked. But you're pleasantly surprised by how gentle he is. He takes a section of hair in one hand and combs the brush down through the ends of your hair, gradually moving up closer to your scalp and then moving onto the next section of hair.

It's over disappointingly quickly. You realise you'd found yourself enjoying having your hair brushed by somebody else for once. He sets aside your hairbrush and runs his fingers through your hair, seeming rather pleased with himself. You hum at the pleasant sensation and tilt your head back far enough that you're looking at him upside-down. He gives you a nervous smile. You stick your tongue out at him.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Kafka stands up momentarily. He reaches for the shower hose and pulls it from its perch. “Alright.” He says decisively. You watch him gather more of your toiletries up. The water is about up to your hips when he switches the stream from the bath tap to the shower head.

“What's all that for?” You ask, running your hands through the shallow water and resting your cheek on your knees.

“Well you obviously ain't in the bath to marinate.” He replies. A large hand coaxes you to lift your head back up. You do. “Cover your eyes maybe.” He prompts. You rest both of your palms over your face. He pushes your hair back and runs the shower stream over your hair, making sure it's completely saturated before giving the rest of you a once-over with warm water. Then, he switches the shower off entirely.

You hear the snappy sound of a bottle being opened and peek between your fingers to catch a glimpse of Kafka squeezing shampoo into his palm. He closes and sets the bottle aside, rubbing his hands together. Sudsy fingers massage your scalp. You close your eyes, leaning into the touch. His hands are strong, but gentle. He isn't just ticking boxes, he's bathing you with care and intent. Your heart feels warm and your stomach is tingly -- but not in a sickly way.

Kafka reaches for the shower head again and, after prompting that you tilt your head back, gives your hair a rinse. He works the shampoo through your hair, making sure to leave no unrinsed residue behind.

Next up is conditioner, which he applies to the ends of your hair and then carefully combs out. Another rinse. He continues like this, gingerly washing each part of your body and cleaning you up nicely. The flustered and awkward Kafka from before is long gone. He's entered a flow state. It's the best you've been treated probably ever, so you have no complaints.

By the time he's almost done with you, you can barely remember ever feeling gross. You're still brutally drunk, of course. But at least you don't feel disgusting as well-- and honestly, you feel just a touch more sober now. It's as Kafka silently rubs a soapy washcloth into your back that you speak again.

“Mmm...Kafka...” Your voice is soft. Kafka perks up, his hands still continuing in their motion across your back.

“Yeah..?” He responds.

“Why are you doing all of this?” You ask him, looking over your shoulder at him. His eyes are fixed on your washcloth. He pulls it away and wrings it out over the bathwater. Just momentarily, he spares you a glance.

“I dunno. Why...wouldn't I?” He answers with a question of his own, bringing up the shower head one final time to rinse over your body. It's a fair point, yet the dusting of red on his cheeks begs a few more questions that you're in no state to pose. It doesn't make you any the less curious, though...if anything you kind of feel...hmm.

Kafka leans over the tub to pull the drain plug, arranges your toiletries back where they belong, and wanders away to find you a towel. You spend a few moments just sitting there in the draining bath. Thinking. Feeling. You hug your legs to your chest.

Not long goes by before Kafka’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You don't quite catch what he's said but when you look up at him, he's standing beside the bath with one towel on his shoulder and another held open with his gaze averted from you. You arise from the bath and practically collapse into his chest, expecting him to wrap the towel around you. He does.

You snake your arms around him and squeeze him as tight as your body will let you. He's warm and his body is soft. He does his best to keep his cool but inside he is totally panicking. Dutiful hands wrap the towel securely around your body, but that doesn't do much for the wet hair soaking through his shirt.

For Kafka, the amount of time you cling to him is as uncomfortable as it is heavenly. The close contact flusters him, and the temporary coolness he had towards your nudity seems to have run its course. Luckily for him, it doesn't last too long. When you unwind your arms and take a half step away, he feels both relieved and disappointed. He does his best to swallow the latter feeling.

“Come on- let's go get you dressed and get you to bed, ‘kay?” He offers, slipping the second towel from his shoulder and running it over your head to dry your dripping wet hair. You look up at him with a big, stupid, drunk smile. He smiles back and helps you along the hall and into your bedroom.

Unlike him, you have a nice, spacious apartment with western style bedroom and a raised bed. One that you're eager to collapse into but Kafka makes a point of steering you towards your dresser. You huff and, begrudgingly, secure yourself a pair of underwear and a shirt. When you drop your towel without warning, you see Kafka nearly jump out of his own skin and watch him trip over himself to turn away.

You slip on your underwear and pull the shirt down over your head. Oh how nice it is to wear clean, dry clothes. You hang the towels over the end of your bed and collapse into the soft mattress. Before your body sinks into the covers, you roll over onto your back and look at Kafka, still with his back to you.

“Are you staying?” You ask. He jolts and looks over his shoulder.

“Staying? The night?” He asks back. You nod. He shifts his weight awkwardly beneath him. He didn't exactly plan to stay out, why would he have? “If you want me to...” He hums, making his way to your bedroom door. You stop him.

“Where are you going?” You call out.

“Uhh...the...tatami room..?” He replies sheepishly, worried he's done something wrong.

“Why? Stay here...” You say, patting the empty space on your large mattress. Even from here, you can hear him swallowing hard.

“Is...” Kafka stands awkwardly by the door. “Are you sure-?” He pats his hands against his sides and nervously drums his fingers across his outer thighs.

“Before I fall asleep.” You grumble with a yawn, climbing under your covers.

The man stands around looking stupid for a few more moments. His trek back towards your bed is made with stiff, robotic movements. When he sits in your bed, he's clearly tense.

“Come here.” You tug insistently at his shirt. He scoots closer and sits cross-legged now, hands in his lap. Much to your irritation. All you wanted was a free body pillow, but it seems Kafka wants to make your life harder.

“Down. Here.” You huff, clawing at him like a zombie. Finally, finally. He obliges. He uncrosses his legs and shyly slides under the duvet, laying on his back with his hands resting on his stomach. You throw an arm over his chest and wrap your leg around his, the soft material of his comfy sweatpants is nice against your bare skin.

It takes some time, but Kafka eventually relaxes. He reaches an arm out to shut off the bedside lamp and allows himself to get comfortable.

“You're a good friend...” You mumble, resting your cheek against his chest. His heart is so loud. “Good pillow too.” You giggle, squeezing his soft body tightly to yours. You feel a hand come around to gently rub your back.

“Yeah...’course I'm a good friend.” Kafka rumbles gently. It sounds like he's going to say more, but he doesn't.

Silence. At least verbally. His heart is thundering in his chest. You wonder if he can feel yours fluttering through your back. As though it could grow wings and fly off.

“Kafka...” You murmur.

“Yeah?” He looks down at you. Not that he can see much in the darkness.

“Mmm...” You hum, burying your face in his neck. “Nevermind...remind me to ask you in the morning.” You say sleepily, running your hand down his stomach to lace your fingers together with his.

“Yeah...okay...” Kafka replies, throat suddenly dry again. He squeezes your hand tightly. You allow the warmth of his body, the thumping of his heart, and the gentle circles he traces into your back lull you to sleep. In the morning, when you're more sober...you will ask him that question properly.