#cart-optimization

[juniperjelly]

i really don't get how anyone's hyped about notch saying he announced "basically minecraft 2". most of his career consists of saying he's gonna make a game, barely half-finishing it, and abandoning it when he gets slightly stressed or nobody finishes making it for him. he never finished any of the supposed minecraft successors he announced before, i seriously doubt this one will be any different lmao

[unofficialadamtaurus]

they forgot about the rammys bro

[cxlrose]

js got to ul60. immediately maxxed carlotta as much as i can 😽 still have to lvl up her ult and skill to 10 but yay

[whatsappapiautomation]

whatsapp api role in e-commerce

[downupti]

Enhancing CRO with Shopify's Reengagement Automations

Learn how Shopify’s reengagement automations help recover lost sales and improve CRO strategies.

Source: https://cro.media/insights/ecommerce-automation/stock-option-plans-cro-strategic-intersection/

The introduction of Shopify’s free reengagement automation templates marks a significant opportunity for online businesses to optimize their Conversion Rate Optimization (CRO) strategies. With automated workflows for abandoned carts, checkout, and product browsing, Shopify offers a powerful toolkit to turn passive visitors into active buyers. The integration of these tools into the customer journey is pivotal for businesses aiming to recover lost revenue and improve overall conversion rates.

Abandoned Cart Recovery

A core function of CRO is reducing friction in the purchasing process. Shopify's Abandoned Cart automation directly addresses one of the most critical pain points in online sales: cart abandonment. According to the Baymard Institute, nearly 70% of carts are abandoned, presenting a significant revenue loss. The automation ensures that customers who leave without completing their purchase receive a timely reminder, encouraging them to return. By automating this communication, businesses can recover substantial portions of lost sales, turning potential losses into tangible revenue without additional manual effort.

The integration of this automation into CRO allows businesses to streamline their funnel, addressing cart abandonment at a key moment and reducing drop-off rates. Tailored follow-ups ensure a personalized approach, which is vital in CRO practices to increase engagement and drive conversions.

Checkout Abandonment: Timing is Everything

CRO isn’t just about attracting customers; it’s about maintaining momentum through the purchase process. Shopify’s Abandoned Checkout workflow builds on this by reengaging customers who abandon the checkout before completing the transaction. The key here is timing—Shopify’s automation waits ten hours before sending the email, ensuring that the communication arrives while the potential buyer is still engaged but not overwhelmed by too frequent messages.

For CRO, timing plays a crucial role. Delayed, well-timed reminders at the right point in the user journey can lead to higher recovery rates. The option to customize timing for this follow-up allows businesses to experiment with different intervals to see which generates the best conversion results, providing critical data for ongoing optimization.

Browse Abandonment: Recapturing Interest

Another essential element of CRO is capturing interest before it wanes. Shopify’s Abandoned Product Browse workflow targets users who browse products without adding them to their cart. This form of reengagement helps remind potential customers of their interest and reintroduces them to products they previously viewed.

By encouraging users to revisit their browsing history or explore related items, businesses can create new opportunities for cross-selling and up-selling. This can directly enhance the average order value (AOV), a key metric in CRO. Cross-selling recommendations based on previous interactions personalize the shopping experience, creating an environment that nurtures conversions.

Customization: Match Branding for Higher Engagement

A successful CRO strategy doesn’t just rely on the mechanics of automation; it also hinges on how well these tools integrate with the brand’s identity. Shopify allows businesses to customize email content through its familiar Email Editor, ensuring that the messages are aligned with the brand’s tone and aesthetic. This level of personalization can lead to increased open rates and higher engagement, further boosting conversion rates.

For CRO, brand consistency in automated communication fosters trust, a critical element in the decision-making process. Customers are more likely to convert if they feel comfortable and familiar with the brand messaging.

Why Automate?

Automating reengagement allows businesses to stay in contact with potential customers without overwhelming them. The key to successful CRO is balancing automation with personalization. The workflows provided by Shopify allow businesses to maintain contact at key touchpoints in the customer journey, improving retention and driving conversions. For companies seeking to increase their revenue without constant manual intervention, these automations can provide an efficient, scalable solution that directly supports CRO goals.

Optimizing the Funnel with Shopify’s Tools

CRO focuses on optimizing each stage of the sales funnel, and Shopify’s automation templates offer invaluable tools to do just that. By implementing automated emails at abandoned cart, checkout, and product browse stages, businesses can increase conversion rates at crucial points in the customer journey. As CRO experts, we know that the earlier you can reengage a potential customer, the higher your chances of conversion. Shopify’s reengagement workflows help businesses recover lost sales and continuously optimize their marketing efforts without added complexity.

Incorporating these automated workflows into your CRO strategy isn’t just about recovering lost revenue—it’s about creating a seamless, efficient, and personalized experience for every visitor. The result? More conversions, more sales, and stronger customer relationships.

[chongoblog]

"You know what characters people are gonna come out in FLOCKS for? That's right!! The Koopalings!"

i just realized. no koopalings in mkw means no iggy. it’s so over

It's okay. They still got me covered (women in cute outfits that I want to wear)

[granddetectivewerewolf]

10 Common eCommerce Mistakes and How to Fix Them

Launching and running a successful eCommerce store is no small feat, but by avoiding these common mistakes, you can set yourself up for success. Remember, the key to thriving in the competitive world of eCommerce is to stay informed, adapt to changes, and always prioritize your customers’ needs.

By optimizing for voice search, focusing on user experience, and implementing a solid marketing strategy, you’ll be well on your way to building a profitable and sustainable eCommerce business. If you’re looking for expert guidance, consider partnering with a digital marketing services in India provider like Bold SEO Services. They offer tailored solutions to help your business grow and succeed in the digital landscape.

So, take these lessons to heart, learn from the mistakes of others, and watch your online store flourish.

[sleepingtime123]

The Secret to Restful Sleep with Belbien Zolpidem 10mg Tablets

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Reliable and Safe: Our tablets are manufactured under strict quality controls to ensure safety and reliability.

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Comprehensive Benefits of Belbien Zolpidem 10mg Tablets

Quick Sleep Induction: Start enjoying restful sleep within minutes of taking the tablet.

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How Belbien Zolpidem 10mg Tablets Work

Mechanism of Action: Belbien Zolpidem works by enhancing the activity of neurotransmitters in the brain that promote relaxation and sleep.

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Stop letting sleepless nights control your life. Take charge and make the change today with Belbien Zolpidem 10mg tablets. Click the link below to order now and begin your journey to better sleep. Rediscover the joy of a good night’s sleep with Belbien Zolpidem 10mg tablets. Order today and wake up to a brighter, more energized tomorrow!

[asxgard]

Semper Fi | [1/8]

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!doctor!reader

| Next

Summary: You’re the ray of sunshine to Jack’s rain cloud. What do they say about opposites attracting?

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: dipping my toes into writing for jack. i kinda love him and his dynamic with this reader, so that’s why there’s a question mark referencing the number of parts this will have. will likely be writing more for them.

(Semper Fi from the Latin “Semper Fidelis” meaning always faithful, which is the motto for the U.S. Marine Corps, but I also feel like it perfectly encapsulates his character)

starts roughly two years before The Pitt, making Ellis a PGY2 and Shen a PGY3 (also Langdon & Collins a PGY2, Mohan a PGY1/intern, and McKay & Mel would still be in med school, MS4). I also refer to the year by R#, meaning Resident Year#.

Word Count: 1.6k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: age gap (it feeds me/reader is late 20s, Jack is late 40s), foul language, people being bad at dealing with their feelings (…Jack), trauma, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, sunshine/grumpy dynamic, angst, mild gore relating to patients, death mentions, mild suicide ideation/jokes

not beta read

You rolled in from out of town like a spring day, warm and sweet. Jack Abbot really had no idea what to think of you at the start, assessing you silently — it had to be youthful optimism. It had to be. You were likely closer to half his age and only had a few years as an attending under your belt, with a persona that oozed family medicine or pediatrics.

How the hell did you end up in emergency medicine? He knew that whatever hospital you had come from, the Pitt would beat the cheery right out of you.

Just one shift and all your sweet smiles and doe eyes would sour.

It rattled him that you did not. Not even after your first week. Not even when your gloves and gown were soaked in the blood of a car crash victim, or when the trauma room was loud with a little girl screaming, or when you told the parents of a ten year-old-boy that he was dying. You walked out of Trauma-1 with a long sigh and then continued on about your day — like exiting back into the main area had reset something inside you.

Give it a few years, he thought bitterly.

Hearing your laugh echo through the halls of the ED sent alarm bells ringing throughout his system — how the hell were you laughing? What were you even laughing at?

Aside from the handful of conversations you had had together regarding patient care, you had not said much to him. Perhaps one of the nurses had advised you to steer clear of him, worried his no-nonsense, rigid exterior would rub off on you. It was clear as day to see most of the staff enjoyed having you on nights with them.

You moved with purpose throughout the ED, checking on several of your patients before moving to the charge desk to do charting, or scribble notes. He had to hand it to you, you were efficient, despite your soft edges.

The charge nurse on nights, Bridget, was talking to you quietly when he walked by, glancing up at the board. The lull was rare, like the quiet before the storm, and he found it interesting that you took time to enjoy it. He was brutal efficiency, checking crash carts and restocking, never letting himself grow idle.

He looked back at you, “Gonna chit-chat all day?”

Your eyes found his and you only blinked, unfazed by his tone. “Everything alright, Dr. Abbot?”

He frowned before gesturing to the board, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.” Said Bridget, with a simple shrug.

You only smiled at him before turning your attention back to Bridget. You picked up a tablet, focused more on that than on Bridget, but you nodded along as she told you about her son’s most recent football game, still clearly engaged.

He minded his tone when he directed you to the ambulance bay to help with a GSW victim being wheeled in. You assessed the man quickly, moving alongside the gurney into Trauma 1. You made quick work of it, paging surgery and ordering a handful of tests, before putting your hands to work.

Jack nearly sighed in relief, knowing he would not have to hand hold — the last thing he needed was an attending who he needed to keep an eye on. He knew he would do it anyway — perhaps it was the military in him, constantly taking in input of his surroundings, never allowing himself to miss anything.

How you guided Dr. Shen with an echocardiogram to show pericardial effusion and allowed him to drain the fluid. Or how you handed tough cases to Dr. Ellis to help her learn while you stood ever vigilant by her side. Or when you sat with the intern, Sullivan, through losing his first patient. He didn’t hear the advice you offered, but he noticed that Sullivan got back to work shortly thereafter, looking less miserable.

He realized that he still didn’t fully believe that you were a perfect fit for the ED, but you were a sound teacher.

—

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, or the Pitt as you had come to learn, was a welcomed change in your life. You had completed your residency and two years as an attending at New York-Presbyterian. You hadn’t fully intended to leave New York entirely, you just needed to get out of there — there was hardly any thought as to where you would end up.

Administration had needed you mostly on nights, which had not been your preference, but you didn’t argue. You took in your new workplace quickly, engaging with your new co-workers and trying to put your best foot forward whenever you clocked in.

While the Pitt was no less chaotic than the ED in New York, there was a particular restlessness you had begun to notice as the weeks ticked on. A never ending stream of patients, short-staffing and bad coffee seemed to weigh heavily on the ED, like it could never quite catch its breath.

The chief attending on your shifts, Dr. Abbot, took some adjusting to. He was nothing like the asshole at your last ED, but he usually had an stony, unreadable look on his face. You had never seen him crack a smile, and his gaze was more intimidating than you had expected. He had a habit of staring — not inappropriately, just assessing, just watching. Constantly observing the ED, patients, the board, you. It was not unkind, per se, but his eyes frequently held a heaviness that most backed away from — but instead of intimidating you, something instead took root in your gut.

You never took his demeanor to heart — he had been in the ED a long time, and with his calculated and calm practiced ease in which he operated, you suspected military training. The way he held himself, the way he moved, the way he demanded attention as soon as he stepped into a room did little to deter that thought.

The annoying little flutter made itself known every time you met his gaze in the weeks that followed, or when his hand met yours over a patient. It was frankly elementary, a stupid work crush — he was so much older, and he was your chief attending. Hardly appropriate. You still barely knew him, so it was easy enough to shove the feeling aside and work.

After one of the longer shifts where you had stayed an extra hour due to a hard to stabilize trauma, you wandered up to the roof. You had just intended to catch some air before returning to your apartment.

Just have a moment of solace to clear your clouded mind.

You were surprised to find you were not alone, looking across the roof to see Dr. Abbot. He was beyond the safety railing, overlooking the city, and a worry invaded your insides. Like in most things, he was just quietly looking over the city with a detached look in his eyes — not quite serious, but not entirely healthy.

You supposed this was how he dealt with a particularly gruesome shift. The topic of your own mortality was never a light one, but you could see how one might find comfort in the reminder of it. You liked to look at the sky, be reminded that life continues on, the world keeps spinning.

“So, you come here often?” You asked, startling him.

He turned to look at you, his eyes hard, “Do you?”

You shrugged with a smile, “I like to watch the sunrise.”

Abbot’s narrowed eyes held on you for several moments, before he turned back to the city, “Just spent the last hour and a half coding that kid…”

“I was there,” you said, stepping closer to the bars while still giving him ample space. “We did everything we could.”

His eyes were on you again. Sharp. Intimidating. “How do you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

He sighed, putting his hands back into his pockets like he was removing as much of himself as he could. “I don’t even know why I do this anymore. This job.”

“Because it matters.” You told him, looking over to the sun rising on the horizon. “Because we’re good at it. Because they need us. Because we need it.” You shrugged lightly even though he wasn’t looking at you. “The little things keep me going, mostly.”

Silence encased you. Most of your mentors had called that nativity.

“You know, a little girl tried to give me her stuffed bear today.” You said, glancing at him. “Her mother was coding and she wanted to give the bear to me, for luck.”

A simple smile came over your features. The mother and daughter in question had been hit by a drunk driver earlier in your shift — the mother had come in critical, while the daughter had come out of it with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.

“And those little moments? They’re enough.”

You breathed in all the horrors you had seen before exhaling them, giving them to the wind. Your mind would always be haunted by the things you saw, but you did always try to focus on the good, on the things you could control.

You both stood there together for several minutes. His outlook was not likely to change, not over some pretty words when he had spent his entire career pushing it down, and you weren’t looking to change it. But the quiet now resting between you? It was warm. It was something that was seen, like a shred of light trickling through the darkness.

He came back from the edge and moved under the railing. You moved off the roof together, a quiet understanding finally settling between you.

[ Next ]

Solely inspired by this post/picture that I saw last week

I have a similar idea planned for Robby as well whoops

(still figuring jack out so please forgive this && this will not be as frequent/consistent as some of my other stuff while i learn to write for him lol)

[blog-atechies]

Web Design | Mobile app development | Digital Marketing (atechies.com)

[webiatorstechnologies]

Five Best Shopify Apps Essential To Your Store

Attracting customers, streamlining processes, and increasing conversions are all crucial to the success of a Shopify store. Fortunately, Shopify has an app store with useful tools to help your online store thrive. 

Here we'll look at five of the most useful Shopify apps that are highly recommended and can help you expand your business. These apps are essential for every Shopify merchant looking to improve their business, from search engine optimization to customer connection.

#1 Quick Add To Cart - Sticky Bar

Quick Add To Cart - Sticky Bar is a game-changer for your Shopify store's user experience. Customers may simply add items to their shopping carts without leaving the current page, thanks to the floating bar or button added to your website. 

This simplified procedure saves time and effort while simultaneously facilitating impulse buys. The sticky bar can be tailored to your store's aesthetic and placed wherever you see fit. This app helps boost conversion rates and customer happiness by streamlining shopping.

Key Features of Quick Add To Cart - Sticky Bar

Adds a sticky bar with an "Add to Cart" button for easy and quick purchasing.

Customizable design to match your store's branding.

Supports product variants and quantity selection.

Mobile responsive for a seamless experience across devices.

Provides analytics and reporting for performance optimization.

#2 Live Chat On WhatsApp

Building trust and providing speedy answers to consumer questions require open lines of communication. By utilizing WhatsApp's widespread use and ease, you can have instantaneous conversations with your customers via Live Chat On WhatsApp. 

You may improve your Shopify store's accessibility and customer service by installing a chat button so customers can start discussions with you directly through WhatsApp. It helps communicate better. 

This app allows you to schedule automated responses, establish operating hours, and keep tabs on several discussions simultaneously. Improve your consumer interactions and inspire trust in your brand with this direct line of communication.

Key Features of Live Chat On WhatsApp

Enables live chat functionality on your website using WhatsApp.

Allows real-time communication with customers for instant support.

Increases customer engagement and improves conversion rates.

Easy installation and integration with your Shopify store.

Provides a convenient and popular messaging platform for customer interactions.

#3 Webiators Promo Alert - Top Bar

Motivating purchases through scarcity and limited-time incentives is a proven strategy. Display captivating promotional alerts in your Shopify store's top bar with the help of the Webiators Promo Alert - Top Bar app. 

This software is useful for paying attention to time-sensitive promotions, such as price drops, free shipping, and introducing brand-new products. The top bar can be modified to fit your business's visual identity and promotional schedule. 

Key Features of Webiators Promo Alert - Top Bar

Displays promotional alerts in a prominent top bar on your website.

Increases visibility of special offers, discounts, and announcements.

Customizable design to align with your store's branding.

Conversion rates can be increased, and customer loyalty fostered by using visual notifications.

Easy setup and management of promotional messages.

#4 WEBSEO - SEO & Image Optimizer

Your online shop must perform well in search engines to succeed in today's cutthroat e-commerce industry. If you're using Shopify, using the WEBSEO - SEO & Image Optimizer software will make optimizing your store for search engines a breeze. 

Meta tag editing, URL optimization, and XML sitemap building are just a few of the functions it provides. In addition to optimizing page load times and user experience, the program can help optimize your product photographs. 

This app helps you improve the overall appearance of your website. By optimizing your online store for multiple search engines, you may draw in more visitors and convert them into paying customers. 

Key Features of WEBSEO - SEO & Image Optimizer

Optimizes your website for better search engine rankings.

Provides on-page SEO analysis and recommendations.

Optimizes images for improved loading speed and user experience.

Helps increase organic traffic and visibility.

Offers easy-to-use tools and features for SEO optimization.

#5 Social Proof - Sales Pop & Fomo

The best way to turn site visitors into paying clients is to earn their trust and respect. You may do this with the assistance of the Social Proof - Sales Pop & Fomo app, which notifies shoppers in real time of their recent purchases and other actions on your Shopify store. 

These alerts instill a sense of time pressure and peer approval, urging site users to complete a purchase. The notifications can be scheduled and styled to fit your business's aesthetic. This app uses the power of social proof to raise client confidence and boost conversions.

Key Features of Social Proof - Sales Pop & Fomo

Displays real-time sales notifications to create social proof.

Shows recent customer purchases to build trust and credibility.

Increases urgency and encourages potential customers to make a purchase.

Customizable design to match your store's aesthetic.

Helps boost conversions and sales by leveraging the power of social proof.

Final Words 

If you want your Shopify store to thrive in the cutthroat world of online retail, you need to use the correct tools and apps. The aforementioned five applications provide a wide range of features to increase your store's usability, customer communication and conversion rate.

These apps also help your Shopify store improve its search engine rankings. Engage customers, boost sales, and stay ahead of the competition with the help of these robust apps for your Shopify store. 

Use these tools to their full extent and see your internet business soar. At Store Webiators, we help you drive customer attention and boost sales by offering these amazing apps at an affordable cost. Connect with our team to know more. 

Original Source : https://store.webiators.com/blog/post/five-best-shopify-apps-essential-to-your-store

[sunmoon-starfactory]

Potions A Plenty - Potion Brewing Set

Pulling from most every other set of Sun&Moon for potion ingredients, this set gives the sims the ability to brew various potions that affect moods, skills, life states, aging, pregnancy, health, and a variety of other mostly harmless effects.

The Quick Feature Review/Set Breakdown below the cut.

Download - SFS

View Use/Instruction Manual

The Potion Crafting Bench - The heart of the set itself, the potion bench is where components are stored, prepared, and combined into batches of potions. At this station, sims can do the following.

Practice potion making and brew a total of 56 potions that have varying effects when drank by sims

Earn Logic Skill and Science Enthusiasm

Stock materials

Order Supply Bundles to facilitate quicker potion making

Obtain a Writ of Mastery in potion crafting

Keep a tidy workstation by keeping things clean

A set of “basic” potions, and their ingredients will be considered REQUIRED for function. Do not remove those files. Let the manual guide you.

This set is MAC-compatible and requires Smarter EP Check, Easy Inventory Check, Easy Lot Check and Money Globals. These are HARD requirements. The set will NOT FUNCTION without these files.

Access to these is dictated by logic skill level as well as a writ of mastery/Creature Life State/Traits.

This station has 28 decorative slots, as well as a decorative mode to enable/disable effects and an "in use" look at will.

Story Mode Enabled - Skip all the ingredients and steps, just enjoy the end products, or just run the animations on a station for the ease of taking pictures.

*New Feature* - Station Cleanliness. As the station is used, it will obtain dirty points. This dirty level affects the outcomes of potion crafting and increases failure chances. Make sure to keep the cauldron clean to ensure quality products!

*New Feature* - Supply Ordering. For a flat rate, sims can buy a bulk order of various materials needed for any potion. They will be added directly to the station's crafting counts.

All potions can be found in Hobbies/Logic. Complete Dutch and Portuguese translations. If you'd like to translate into your native language, please share your strings with us and we'll update the set proper!

Inventory Tools & New Items

Botanical Book - Pretty and useful. Inventory Tool.

Writ of Mastery - Apothecary Version. Inventory Tool.

Crate of Jars - 6 glass jars needed for potion making.

Cauldron Dregs - Waste produced from cleaning the station or failing in potion making.

Bonus Items

Reference Tome - In game recipe book for all potions

Counter Split OMSP - Give maxis counters a chance to hold more things!

Display Shelves - 9 decorative slots, two versions.

Apothecary Todd Cart and Pavilion - Previously released sets bundled into this set; they have been optimized and renamed, please remove the old versions.

Potion Specifics

Potions come in 5 types: Basic, Folk Remedy Potions, Arcane Potions, Creature/Lifestate Potions, and Poison Potions. The more fantastical the potion, the more complex it is to make.

Please be aware that depending on your playstyle you will have to add more files from other sources or you can delete certain files from this set without worry; For example, if you do not play your game with creature life states or custom creature life states, you may delete anything related to those potions, provided it is not used in another “basic” potion.

Potions are NOT recolorable and will not be made so in the future. If you wish to alter the bottle/potion colors yourself, this may be done in the properties/categorized properties tab of each subset txmt in SimPe, using the stdMatDiffCoef line.

Potions Vs. Teas: You will notice that many potions have the same effects as previously released teas from the Quali-Tea set. So what’s the difference? 

Teas are based on cooking and logic skills only. Potions function more on Logic skill level and a Writ of Mastery, OR Witch/Warlock state, and other traits.

Teas are single cup per crafting interactions (except basic hunger teas). Potions will always produce in a batch of 6.

In some cases, Teas require MORE ingredients to make, whereas Potions require LESS ingredients but higher Logic skill and rarer/less natural ingredients.

While potions can have the same effect as a similar tea, more risk is involved with taking them and sims can experience adverse/opposite of intended effects.

[bitchlessdino]

nobody's home (m)

Pairing: neighbor male nanny!seungcheol x afab maid!reader Genre:  smut, fluff towards the end Word count: 3.8k tags: working class au, mentions kids, big dick!Seungcheol, reader wears skirt and thong and panty hose, dom!seungcheol, brat!reader, rough sex, rough hair pulling and head movement, spitting and swallowing, heavy degradation kink, window sex, overstimulation, name calling (brat, slut, mr. choi), choking unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pies Summary: Seungcheol and you have never crossed paths for long, but boy have you imagined it. Too preoccupied with your jobs working for some of the richest families in the city, you've sacrificed your grueling hours when you could've been fucked your brains out all this time. However, big risks come with big rewards when the holidays arrive. Then there's nobody home to stop you. author note: horny, horny, horny, that was the entire process writing all of this. i feel like i pulled this out one of my deepest most darkest horny moments bc why am i so into writing every part of this and thats so rare?? i enjoyed this alot, please enjoy guys and happy new year! its almost 2024 thats insane!!!!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

You haven’t worked for this family all that long. Only long enough to realize the cute male nanny living in the house next door.

You've caught glimpses of him a handful of times on the lawn, overseeing the kids as they bask in the fresh air. His eyes sparkle like stars that lit the night sky and his smile outshines the opulence of this entire block of one-percenters. Witnessing that radiant smile aimed in your direction brightens your day each time. Without fail, you exchange polite greetings, accompanied by smiles and pleasant small talk, forming a delightful routine in your interactions.

As the housekeeper, you’ve had plenty of encounters while getting groceries, lawn or backyard parties, and windows. Lots of windows. You’d peer through when you’re cleaning, see him glance back at you, maybe sending you a wave as he’s mid-feeding the kid veggie tots. Your interactions with him were typically very brief and fleeting.

Now, there were no excuses. The holiday season is around the corner, and families in the neighborhood will soon be heading to the Alps, tropical destinations, or somewhere along those lines. That meant you’d be all alone in their mansion, much like someone else in the neighborhood.

You learn about it by seeing him at the grocery store. Trying not to get distracted by the loose-fitting dress shirt tucked in the waist of his trousers, you notice the little one he cares for rolls through the aisles full of toddler swagger in the shopping cart. You would gush at their delightful giggles if you didn’t find their caretaker so mind-numbingly distracting. 

With his broad shoulders, sturdy arms, and consistently solid build, you too would trust him with something so delicate and needy of attention. It was such a natural choice. However, the nearest option you had was, well, yourself.

He mentions that his employers preferred to keep their vacation exclusive to family, providing him with paid time off to use as he pleased. In turn, you mention being offered the same form of compensation, and am eternally grateful for such leniency. His expression sparks in piqued interest, briefly glancing at you before storing the hot chocolate package away in the cart. 

“Does that mean you’ll be away for the holidays?”

You muse at his question, fingers taking over your basket handle as he ponders on your response. A glimmer of optimism in his eyes beams in your direction, with a dimple etched deep in his cheek as he splays a hopeful smile. To which you answer jesterly, "Well, I hadn't implied that."

He softly chuckles, nudging you at the elbow, obviously trying to banger a proper answer. “Then tell me, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a big house all alone during the holidays?”

His compliments delight you and warmth festers in your chest, greedy for more. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?"

Seungcheol doesn’t have a moment to react as the child in the cart regains their energy. He shifts his gaze away momentarily and soon you escape his line of vision, seamlessly blending in amidst the bustling crowd of grocers. 

Returning to the residence, you linger by the largest window, offering a perfect view of Seungcheol dining during supper. It's a familiar scene, replaying like clockwork at the same hours each time. His silhouette in the warm glow of the neighbor's dining room becomes a sight with more to be desired, and you imagine a world where the divide doesn't exist. Staring in his eyes, you picture your entanglement. The heat of your bodies weaving together like threads in a tapestry, each bonded tightly, with only the power of shears to tear you apart.

His eyes reflect the same intensity, mentally undressing you down to the skin, making you his perfect canvas. He ponders the texture of your skin, your hair, and the sound you make when he tenderizes your flesh with his teeth. He wonders how full you feel between his fingers, or how sweet your nectar tastes. He can only envision the favor, the sensation, the warmth; holding the fantasy close to him like a secret taken to the grave.

That day would come soon enough.

Anticipating each passing hour of every day, you are elated by the promise of bidding farewell to your employers at the airport. You assure them of returning to a pristine home, meticulously cleaned from every nook and cranny. A grin, so expansive it borders on pain, graces your face, and there's a noticeable spring in your step as they fade into the depths behind the security checkpoints.

Without a moment's hesitation, you rush home, eager to connect with a kindred spirit just a few cobblestones away from your work residence. Judging by the expression in his eyes, it's clear he has fulfilled his responsibilities and bid farewell to his employers as well, eagerly awaiting your arrival. He grins at you, pleased to see you approach him.

“I see it that they made it to their flight safe?”

You hum in confirmation. “You would be seeing correctly. How did your family make it?”

"Quite smoothly," he answers nonchalantly, the dimple on his cheek sinking into a subtle but contented expression.

A palpable wave of relief releases from the depths of your lungs, and a chuckle escapes as you observe Seungcheol displaying a similar reaction. Even in the subzero temperatures, you sensed the fire of his gaze, unraveling your logical resolve and liquefying you into a puddle of your own arousal. In the depth of your gaze, he discerns your hopeful anticipation, one that matches his. “So, what are the plans for the rest of their absence?”

The corner of your lips can’t help the way lifts, smiling slyly back at him. “I’m sure you have some ideas.”

You thank the heavens every day they never reinstalled those security cameras. Utilize their vulnerability, you invite the neighbor’s nanny into their home, and the automatic door locks behind him. No use in holding back, he claims the lips swiftly, tasting need and rebellion on your tongue in a rough liplock.

His lips full and plush, they part to speak, but not with words. His tongue aligns with yours, only to tangle in incoherent mumbles that escape in between, yet communicate with you in perfect fluency. Much like the intimate gazes you share from the windows multiple times a day, the fervent kiss unfolding spoke more than the audible language ever could.

His hands work around your body, shoving off your coat and cardigan, abandoning them on the hardwood to slip his fingers beneath your shirt. A shallow breath leaves your lips and you rush him against you, planting yourselves against their pristinely white wall. The texture of the plaster digs into your backside, abrasive against your flesh and Seungcheol locks you in place by holding your thigh against his side.

“You don’t know how fucking bad I wanted to do this to you,” he growls into your kiss.

You let out a sultry chuckle, fiddling with his earlobe between the pads of your fingers. “You can say it out loud. Nobody’s home.”

He scoffs. “I said, I wanted to—“ he slams his hips against you, his cock bursting at the seams against your torso, “—fuck the living shit—“ he does so again, digging your sobbing clothed cunt with his solid thigh, “—out of this stupid, pretty cunt. That loud enough for you?”

You moan through your firm pressed lips, grinding against his steel hard thighs. “Just the perfect amount.”

In admiration, your hands roam over his body, and shamelessly rips off his dress shirt, hearing the buttons skip against the cool tile. He grunts at the sensation of the frigid air enveloping his broad stature as it pebbles goosebumps on his upper arms. Returning your savage gesture, his hand fingers through your hair and dragging it back to pin your head on the wall behind you, fisting handfuls of your locks. “That wasn’t very nice of you. Could’ve asked for permission at least first,” he snarls, baring his front teeth.

“Can’t help it,” you grin, “you just look so good without it on. I bet you look without anything on.”

His chest presses flat against your body without even space to breathe and his unyielding gaze bore into you. He aligns his conceited grin against your lips to smash it brusquely—as if thanking you—pulling at your bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “I’m sure it’s all you think about when you see me.”

Quickly, he maneuvers you; twisting your heel and guiding with a hand on your waist, he forces you against the unyielding surface of the wall and trails that same hand over your chilled spine. 

You softly gasp at his touch, feeling the flood of your clenched walls seep through your underwear and layering your inner thighs. His chilling, velvet voice beckons, coating the inside of your ears. “But I’ve dealt with brats, you know that. Let me show exactly what happens when you test the limits of my discipline.”

Seungcheol lifts the flap of your skirt, barring the shape of your cheeks protected under a layer of pantyhose and caressing its plush cushion. Then came the flat palm of his hand coming against you at full force. You jolt upon contact, clinging to the foundation of this house to recover, yet mewl at the arousal erupting inside you. A sound emerges from the depths of your throat, vaguely sounding of his name as well as plead.

“You like that, don’t you? A naughty little brat you are,” he chuckles sinisterly.

You push your back against his hips, finding the mold of his cock readily and fitting between the rounds of your ass. His soft groan follows, his erection rubbing against the pantyhose. “God, you really like that.”

“I want it,” you whine impatiently, backing your hips on him, and crushing his length, “give it to me.”

“What kind of authority figure would I be if I gave into one of my brat’s demands?” He strikes your cheek again, stinging lingering dully as your flesh had barely recovered from the last hit, and drool leaking out of the corner of your lips. “Not a very good one,” he answers.

“Please, Seungcheol...”

He does do again, if not harder, and each strike collides with both cheeks. “You’ll be referring to me as Mr. Choi now, brat.”

You never knew his surname, but upon discovery, you notice how smooth it rolls off the tongue. How delicious it sounds out of your swollen lips.

“Mr. Choi…” You breathe out, your cunt vibrating at the notion of his power.

He hums pleased, rewarding the back of your neck with a gentle peck. “Good job. What is it you want?”

“Please, Me Choi, I want your cock inside me…”

He clicks his tongue. “Do you, now?” He chides, “Are you going to behave from now on?” 

You nod gingerly. “Yes, just give it to me, please…all of it…”

“Mmh, since you’re being so polite. I guess positive reinforcement is in order.” Seungcheol’s hand caresses your hips, reaching for the curves of your ass in confident determination. The soft caress of his rich voice proceeds, “Let’s just get these out of the way.” 

He ruthlessly tears the sheer material of your pantyhose, exposing your skin and the red lacy thong that hardly holds you up. You erupt in a startled gasp, welcoming the cool embrace of the air ventilation on your blistered skin. His voice drops to a lower octave and his groaning dissolves, melding into a soft sigh. “What a pretty little holiday gift for me. Only took me a moment to realize I have to unwrap it.”

“I thought of you when I decided the color,” you admit in feigned innocence, “you seem to like the holiday colors.”

“I do. Darling of you for noticing,” he praises with a hint of tease, “and my, does it suit you. Maybe there is hope for a brat like you.”

You hear the draw of his zipper, following the heavy drop of fabric to the ground. Slightly turning your head, you see he kicks the clothes aside and grins upon inspection of his full-length lining up between your legs. Your knees began to wobble, parting your feet for a more stable stance, and you swoon with your head against the wall. “You look so big…”

The head of his cock rubs against the lace, precum leaking from the tip and creating a small mess on your already ruined panties. You hear a smile in his scoff and feel the snap of your underwear before his tip breaches your molten warmth. He whispers, “Wait until you feel how big it is pushing in and out of that pretty wet cunt of yours…”

“Mmh, Mr. Choi…” Your breath halts as his girth parts your entrance, stretching your walls until it is Seungcheol and your lubricating arousal. He seethes in relief, letting your welcoming embrace around him soothe his intensifying erection and he bucks his hips, having you adjust to his size.

You rest your forehead on the wall, feeling him bury himself inside you. “Shit…yes, Mr Choi…”

“Such bratty pussy.” He spanks both cheeks once more, watching the recoil of your flesh. “My perfect bratty little pussy…bet you’re so used to misbehaving. It won’t be like that around me.”

He took one deep, languid thrust, automatically groaning, “Fuck,” then released his hips.

You immerse in his plunder of your voice, letting it ache in need as you repeat his name. Meanwhile, your internal temperature rises with the collision of his lap and your ass growing harsh and unforgiving. Pinning your wrist together single-handedly, he lets his other grip reclaim your hair, dragging your body to him for his own use. “You feel so fucking good around me.”

He tenses his torso to take sharper strikes, pulsing deeper and quicker. Your hand slides on the solid surface in front of you, pushing yourself against him as you take every inch. Your jaw drops low, echoing a hollow whine, devoid of incoherent thoughts and instinctive response.

Seungcheol lets go of your wrists and instead sandwiches them between your back and his chest. He finds the front panels of your shirt and tears it apart similarly you did with his, echoing that familiar sound of buttons being abandoned on the ground. 

“Because you deserve the same thing to happen to you,” he softly mutters, only to cup your cladded breast hungrily, squeezing your flesh to the point it spills out of the material as his teeth kiss your neck, “and because I couldn’t stop looking at these when you’re walking around that see-through blouse by that window we share.”

Thinking about the fact that you share something made his intention all the more intimate, and you cling to his body like saran wrap due to the simple fact. You melt as he marks your body with bites, the stinging resonating on your goosebumped skin. “I wear that because of you,” you manage to squeak, “only because you wear that t-shirt that clings to your body during the summer. How it got damp from sweat fixing that broken bookcase. God, is it satisfying to rip your shirt off.”

“That window was always the culprit, hmm?”

He pries you from where you stand and drags you to the referred structure with you giggling after him. There he bends you over the dining table placed strategically in front of it, while your ass points towards the glass screen. His spanks come flying, tenderizing the already raw and blistered skin, “This damn window you always linger by.” 

His nails dig into your kneaded flesh and he fits his cock right where it belongs, plunging back inside you as he secures your head against the table. “The way I wanted to fuck you on this exact table, spank this cute fucking ass,” he roughly tugs your head up, watching your tits bounce as he ruts in you like a damn dog, and meets your warm wide-eyed gaze, “Spit in that slutty, brat mouth.”

Your lips part without delay, death gripping the edge of the mahogany, and your tongue slings out enthusiastically. He breaks out in an amused grin before it melts back into a smolder, gripping you closer until he hocks a hot load of salvia in your mouth, forcibly closing your jaw with his hands.

“Hold it,” he commands, seeing the subtle frown on your face as you obey. He smiles sinisterly, hands on your hips as he slams you towards him, watching your head bob at the harsh rhythm. He places his palm over the column of your throat, teeth clawing your cheek. “Now swallow, you slut.”

He feels the shift in your throat as it goes down, relishing that light gasp of breath leaving your lips, “Good slut. You’re finally learning.”

His power, his strength, his cadence were inexplicably captivating and you succumb to his every whim. It only intensifies as you drink in his delectable lips, so soft in contrast to the abrasive snap of his hips, hitting in a spot so sensitive you don’t even predict it coming.

Your moan resonates through the entire first floor, palming the dinner table as you ride out your high in teary anguish as Seungcheol’s pace doesn’t seem to falter, in fact, it seems to have grown angrier. Furious. 

“You fucking slut,” he spits, rubbing your overstimulated clit in the thick of your climax, squeezing the tears out of your eyes. You clutch his forearm in desperation, writhing uncontrollably. “S-Seungcheol—“

“Misbehaving again, I see.” He pulls out of you to flip you on your back. He watches at your hot cheeks expel heavy pants, sweat filming your entire torso, and eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You’re still conscious; you haven’t had enough just yet.”

Dragging by the arm, he takes you against the tempered glass, chilling your bare spine. He lifts your legs off the ground and holds them on either his side, stuffing himself back into you. Your heat drips around his cock, and he catches it in his thrusts, pressuring you to feel every inch of his cock rammed inside. 

Your ass and the pads of your fingers press against the glass, smudging its once-pristine sheen. “Mr.Choi…”

He strokes your cheek, fondness in his eyes before it lowers to your throat and closes around it. Then his eyes penetrate through you, eying you in a dark allure as he robs you of breath, and catching the daze in your eyes as he ponders in thought. 

“What are you thinking dirtying up the thing you took so long cleaning with your fingerprints and cum, hmm? Marking your claim on the house you've spent all day and night on looking perfect? A house far from being yours? How does it make you feel?”

“…Exhilarating,” you sigh shallowly, staring back at him with a smile. Your arms loop around his neck, finding security and embracing his vigorous nature. “Like it’s all worth the painstaking labor to make a complete mess of it.”

He groans at your answer, reconnecting your lips in what feels like an eternity, and cradles the side of your face endearingly with one hand still around your neck. His lips devour yours, swallowing your moans, jerking his hips, and savoring the velvet of your walls clench around him so deliciously. 

“You were just as worth the wait. Made my job so damn hard thinking your pussy wrapped around my cock, made me fucking blank out most of my day. Not a good move for me, but–really–I blame you,” he slams you against the window before quickly returning to his rhythm pace. 

“You and your perfect body—” He grinds up into you, relocating your sensitivity and you whimper, “—Your sexy fucking voice when you greet me,” and he finally, makes notice of your face, using that hand that crushed around throat now gripping your chin, “—or this beautiful face that I couldn’t wait to see contort when I push my fucking cum inside.”

Usually, you know better than to let that kind of thing happen, but after the long duration of having only distant contact, his offer becomes tempting—alluring even—that you knew someone had to physically pry you off of him until you were filled with his seed. “Well, you’re so good with kids, wanna make some of your own?”

Seungcheol beckons closer, grinning mischievously, “Should I? You want me to put my babies in you? Fill you up with cum?”

You mewl at the thought, bringing his warmth closer, “I’d be so full…taking your fat cock and all your hot cum inside me…it’d be a dream, especially knowing how good you’re taking care of us, especially me.”

“You’d want that, hmm,” driving himself into you until you're lost in your own world again—losing the grasp on reality—and he persists. “You want my cum making a mess of you and this house just so I could put some babies in this pretty cunt? Hmm? That what you want?”

You nod mindlessly, anchoring yourself to him until he finally lets up. When he does, you feel the power surges through you as if you’re fresh new battery, the electrical current being the cum he shoots up into you. You let yourself ride this high, rocking into his hips, and soon your weight takes over, deducing you to a puddle. He takes his final pumps, cooing softly at your lips as you share a kiss, then drops you back on the dining table, letting you catch your breath as the cum spills slowly out of you and stains the floor under your feet.

He stands between your legs, tracing over the texture of your thighs, and his other hand claims your waist, meeting your face with a tired but tender smile. “Hi.”

You softly chuckle, resting a palm on the back of his neck. “Hi,” you repeat back.

“So dinner?” 

You playfully roll your eyes, bordering his hips with your legs. “Are you offering to cook?”

“My job requires me to, so yes,” he traces over your jaw, drawing in closer, “Wouldn’t want to feed my clients burnt Mac and cheese with their frozen Dino nuggies.”

“True,” your arms lock at the elbows around his neck, “But what else can you make besides Mac and cheese with Dino nuggies?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He answers vaguely.

You finger through his hair and notice how his perspiration has left him mouthwateringly disheveled, quietly contemplating how to stretch out this vacation time. Your solution: never leave each other’s side. 

“I’ll tell you what. We can think about what to eat…after a shower. “

You retrieve his hand, tugging him in your desired direction and he follows graciously with a knowing grin. “We can do that, but we both know that shower will end up more dirty than clean.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in keeping a clean home, now it’s your turn to clean my home.”

His dimple graced his cheek, visibly interested. “My pleasure.”

[whatsappapiautomation]

whatsapp api role in e-commerce

[the-californicationist]

he changes your mind

John Price has been trying his best to convince you to let him give you a baby. After learning about his willingness to make sacrifices for you and your family, you decide to grant his wish.

MDNI/18+

TW: breeding, pregnancy, explicit sex

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51167794

Be sure to stop by my archive for more COD fics and to view my completed Kinktober collection, "Gauntlet".

John Price was smiling again. His cheeks were crushed up underneath his pale blue eyes, full of wonder and searing joy. The creases at the edges of his lashes cut and folded like the beginnings of an origami crane along his temple, and even though they did the same folds every single time, your heart skipped a beat when you saw them. The beard that lay flat and smooth around his mouth stretched with his smile, broad and keen. Sincere. Innocent and pure. And his laugh sent a knife right through your belly, melting down inside of you like coffee too hot, letting you feel your shapes and holes and secrets all the way down until you couldn’t breathe until he laughed again. Desperate for it. You wanted to rip it from him and keep it inside of you instead so you could tap into that bliss like an addict. You wanted a button to push to force it out of him so you could hear the sound in your darkest days, using him to turn on the light. 

To make matters worse, he was holding a baby.

He was making you want one. In fact, he was making you want him to put one inside of you. His baby. One of your very own. One with blue eyes that crinkled at the edges like shining cellophane. 

You resisted the pull like a yearling in a harness. You wanted to buck against it and kick it in the teeth. You didn’t want a child. John was always gone - mission after mission - and you weren’t willing to raise a whole person by yourself. You could do it, but you wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair. A child needs their guardian, and when your guardian was the guardian of the world…how could you come first?

So, you boxed it up and put it away in you with the rest of your ghosts. You haunted yourself with it sometimes. When you scrolled through your online purchases of milk and bread, sometimes it would suggest baby formula to add to your cart, as if, subtly suggesting like a mother-in-law, you were missing something important. But, you kept busy. You worked hard, you traveled, you spent time with friends. You loved John dearly, and you craved him more and more every day. You were happy, as happy as anyone should have the right to be. Why should you be entitled to open a box you had no business opening?

But, there it was, down from the attic of your mind again and cracked open in the foyer of your frontal cortex, waiting for you to pluck from it a warm, writhing little bundle that needed you to hold it and kiss it and tell it how to drive a manual transmission. A Janice or an Eric or a Persephone - someone new for the world to put through its horrors. Someone to catch a cold, to have their heart broken, to lose their job. Someone new to put you and John in matching coffins and lower you down into matching holes where you’d be covered and buried in the same place from whence they’d come. Entropy. 

You watched as John crooked his elbow just so, supportive and careful, his massive form suddenly as agile as an arching ballerina, holding the bottle and the towel and the someone new as gently as a leaf holds the dew in the mornings in the spring.

You were wet. Your heart and your womb were fully committed to the bit. Some ancient bacteria that divided for the first time back when you were just primordial soup had optimized you for just this moment. It was lying in wait for John Price to crane his neck down to leave little chirping kisses on the softest pink cheek and then to smile when it garnered its reaction. That instinctual drive revved inside of you when he wiped away a stray drop of milk from a grinning toothless mouth. A mouth that would learn how to give kisses right back one day and beg you for them. 

The way your hands clenched around your arms was going to leave a bruise. 

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

“Such a cute lad, aye?” John commented, driving you down the dark road to your home. 

“Gaz sure has his hands full,” you nodded.

“He’ll make it work. It always works itself out, right?” He was suggestive, and you weren’t about to have that.

“If it did, we wouldn’t need the orphanages.”

He was silent. The battle you had just won meant little to the war that raged on in the silence between you.

“I asked Laswell for the hiatus.”

“What?”

“You said that you needed me here. No more away missions. No more black sites. And you said we’d discuss it.”

“I said we might discuss - ”

“No, you said you needed those to happen, and I made them happen. She wrote up the paperwork. When I sign it, I’m here, for good. I’m a full on intel analyst. And it’s a pay raise,” he raised his volume, and his knuckles were white around the steering wheel.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay? What does that mean?”

“It means okay. We can try, okay?”

“Don’t play with me, pumpkin. I can’t - ”

You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed it, giving him a soft smile. 

“I said okay.”

He drove faster. He barely stopped at stop signs. He parked in the gravel instead of pulling under the carport. He opened your door and nearly pulled you out. 

With his hand at the small of your back, he walked you to the front door, keys jangling loudly in his hand, the tip of the key scraping at the edges of the lock like a dog at the door, clamoring to get in. The door cracked. You were inside before you knew it. The keys fell to the floor and the door slammed shut behind you. John scooped you up and kicked in the panel to your bedroom. He fell on top of you, kissing you roughly, like he had mere minutes to spare. Your blood was rushing, pounding in your ears, and you could feel how heavy his breaths were as his chest pushed and pulled inside of himself.

“John. Jo- Hey, John. Wait - ”

John stopped, his hands stuffed under your dress, fingers looped in your panties, frozen in place like you had paused time itself. He didn’t look up at you. His head stayed down, and he waited for you to do something about it. 

You grabbed his cheeks and forced him to meet your eyes,

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a whisper.

“Please, sweetheart,” John’s eyes held within them a fragile prayer, “Let me give you a baby. I want to see you hold her inside, right here,” he kissed your belly as he raised up your dress, “I want to see you in her face when she smiles and laughs.”

You smiled at him, petting his hair, enjoying his kisses,

“How do you know it’ll be a girl?”

He scoffed, kissing you further down, peeling the panties away as he had first intended, 

“Just let me dream, alright? You said you would try.”

His hot mouth covered your clit and suckled against it with a renewed hunger. You tried to respond,

“Mm, I will, John. We’ll try.”

“We’re going to try right now.” 

His fingers spread you apart and he began to fuck you deeply on his hand, licking you apart at the seams, letting your binds and ties melt like sugar on his tongue, freeing you from the confines of the world around you, ripping you from reality and dragging you with him into his primal wonderland. You could feel his fingers stretching up, deeper than he usually did, feeling around for the soft roundness of the entrance to your womb. He found it and circled around it, as if mapping it for himself, visualizing it and teasing himself with all of its possibilities. It made you squirm, and he sucked harder, cowing you into submission with an orgasm, which you gasped out in shock. You’d been struggling to hold it together since Nova’s baby shower, and you were desperate for relief. That relief hit you like a truck, and you came hard enough to see stars in the dim light of your bedroom.

As soon as John felt you clench around his hand, he fucked you harder, adding a finger and curling them into you, stretching you to fit his thickness. He had his length out and ready at your entrance faster than you thought was physically possible, spitting down onto himself and positioning himself inside your folds, ready to commit. 

Then, for all of his anxious hurry, he stopped, as if he was missing something. He looked at you, concerned and needy, still fully clothed and unable to think straight. He looked lost. You held his hips in your hands and coaxed him forward,

“It’s okay, John. C’mon, let’s try.”

You thought he might break down and cry from the relief that washed over him. It was like you’d pulled a burning arrow from his heart. He sank into you like a stone in a lake, quick and sure, wet and eager. 

“Oh, fuuuuuck!” John shouted. It was loud enough that you wondered briefly about your neighbors. 

He fell on top of you, crawling over you with his hulking arms, prowling up to kiss your neck like a horny teenager, full of the same level of vigor. His thrusts were deep - deeper than usual - as if he was searching out that smoothness of your anatomy, looking for his target. You canted your hips downward to help him find it. When he did, you both groaned for each other. 

"That's it, my sweet girl," he rubbed your clit in gentle circles, sending you back into orbit, "I'm so fuckin' ready to see my baby in you. Fuck! I can't wait."

The way his cock throbbed with each of his thrusts was sending you into a sort of trance. Your pussy felt stuffed, like it was struggling around his fat cock, bending and pulling at its walls to allow him to fit. His kisses were formless and weak, but his hips were merciless in their pounding. The two divergent sensations forced a rift in your mind, and your pleasure stretched to meet his fierce and gentle need. You felt the wave-like tingle of your recent orgasm tumbling in the back of your mind, threatening to rise again to crash upon your shore, growing with each pull of his rocking rhythm. 

"Feel so good," he confessed in your ear, "Letting me give this to you, do this for you. Like heaven, love."

You encouraged the motion of his body with your hands, touching the snapping, ferocious muscles of his spread back, digging your nails into his furry skin when he angled himself just so, casting spell after spell to hypnotize you into pliant submission. Then, he quickened, panting, pleading, whispering his pleas over and over to you or to God, you couldn’t tell. He was making you feel like one and the same. His voice cracked,

"Bloody hell, I can't hold it back. Goddamnit. I'm - ahhh!"

When he filled you, and he damn well filled you, he held himself tightly pressed to your womb’s gate like he would be washed away at sea, gripping your body like a lifeline. He reached beside you for his pillow and shoved it under your hips, groaning and panting as he came down from his high, one-track minded. John kept his cock in you like a seal, holding you there much longer than usual. As you regained your senses and your ability to form words, you looked up at him and asked,

“John, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just wait. I want to make sure it’s there. Has to be deep enough for you, love.”

He kissed you again, using his long tongue to lick all the way into your mouth, still desperate and devout. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was weeks away from your ovulation window. Maybe you would just keep that to yourself.

[stevesgother]

When The Sun Hits

steve harrington x fem!reader summary - a supply run doesn't go as planned 1.7k previous chapter I next chapter series masterlist

Steve didn't hate you; contrary to what you might believe. But Steve does hate that you hate him.

Something about your clear disdain for him had opened some precariously healing wound. He bit, and he didn't know why. The roots of his younger, much more childish self-- you were especially good at finding them; tauntingly wrapping them around your fingers. Every word from your mouth unearthed the version of himself he'd tried so hard to bury; reminding him of who he once was. Maybe he did hate you a little for that.

Twigs and the very beginnings of fallen leaves crunch under his footfall-- a fraction out of time with yours. You were always in a hurry; desperate to get wherever it was you needed to be.

"You have the map, right?" You call over your shoulder to the man behind you, wishing that he would pick up his pace.

"Yeah-- yeah, I do," Steve responds, squinting at the crumpled piece of paper in his hands, "we're going in the right direction, I'm pretty sure. The ink is wearing off..."

"I'd rather you know than be 'pretty sure'."

"Why don't you read it then?" He retorts as he shoves the map into your shoulder. You snatch it from his hands before you can think better of it; as much as he irritates you, this was still your only one.

You'd made it to Indianapolis. Neither of you anticipated how overrun it would be-- your modest kitchen knives barely cutting it anymore.

What you really needed were antibiotics. Medicine. Antiseptic. Anything. Your concussion had been difficult enough to heal from without so much as an Advil; let alone something like an infected wound, or pneumonia. And it was only getting colder outside.

"There should be a pharmacy about a mile from here," you mumble, fingers tracing the map, "if...we are where I think we are."

"Helpful." Steve mutters sarcastically. You don't have the energy to quip back, you simply wish he'd stop being such a dick. "We need to make it fast-- sun'll be setting soon." He states.

You nod, clenching your jaw; tired of the authoritative tone he keeps taking with you. He's seemed to develop some sort of complex ever since he saved you, like you're something that needs to be taken care of-- looked after. Like you can't handle your own. It's simply infuriating.

More daylight than you'd hoped has been lost by the time the pharmacy finally comes into view over the glistening swell of a paved hill. Evidence of the city's wreckage was all around you-- in the abandoned shopping carts and boarded windows. Instead of honking car horns and the bustling racket of a metropolis, the only sound that could be heard now were yours and Steve's combined footsteps crunching on bits of broken glass, your heart hammering behind your ribcage.

The store looks ransacked from the exterior-- graffiti and smashed windows. You can only hope it's contents will be more promising. There's no current Plan B if this doesn't pan out.

"You take one side, and I'll take the other," Steve instructs, "It'll be quicker if we split up. It's already getting dark."

"Is that really a good idea?" You question-- constantly questioning, "I mean, Steve-- we don't even have flashlights,"

"There's enough light to get us in and out, it's fine." He dismisses, "Just keep your back covered, and yell if you need help."

Huffing, you shoulder past him and into the deserted aisles-- hating that your only option now was to trust him. The shelves still housed a surprising amount of stock; you quickly scan over the products in your direct eyeline.

Anusol, Systane, Levonorgestrel-- all basically useless, unless you or Steve got hemorrhoids. Or needed eyedrops.

You can hear Steve shuffling around on the other side of the pharmacy; so far, so good. The sound of pills rattling inside of their bottles fills you with an optimism you haven't felt in weeks.

You decide to try your luck at the shelves behind you, turning to begin sifting through the scattered packages there. It's still mostly condoms and antiacids, until out of your peripheral you spot an unopened box of Tylenol. Jackpot.

Steve's satchel tugs his shoulder a little tighter each time he drops a new item into it. He doesn't find that he minds it as much as he normally would.

He proceeds to snatch anything that sounds like it could be useful: amoxicillin, hydrogen peroxide, penicillin; even though he's allergic to the latter-- you might not be. So, he grabs it anyway.

The sound of objects clattering and a strained yelp ring out from the other side of the pharmacy. Steve's gut lurches at the cry that follows:

"Steve!"

His body reacts before his mind has a chance to catch up, retrieving his knife. It could be the dead, or an aggressive man with a loaded weapon, hell-- it could be a goddamn cannibal. All Steve knows is that he needs to get to you.

"Steve!" You cry again, "Please--help!"

Whatever sense of relief he feels when he realizes it's just a reanimated corpse that's gripping you by your hair and not a crazed psychopath is temporary. It's not ideal, but it could be much worse.

He plunges the dulling blade of his knife into the thing's skull; it's cranium so soft that it caves in on itself like a sinkhole. It makes him nauseous.

The walker loosens its grip on your scalp enough for you to regain your balance and face Steve. He doesn't even give you a chance to catch your damn breath before he's reprimanding you. Again.

"Jesus Christ, I told you to watch your back!" Steve scolds, his voice rising slightly in pitch.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You pant, "Can I have a second before you start scolding me? I'm not a fucking child, Steve!"

He opens his mouth as if to say something before changing his mind-- an apology waiting in the back of his throat, begging to be let out. He's scared that if he opens his mouth long enough, he'll finally admit that he's petrified. Even after everything, a terrible knot still forms in his chest at the idea of anything happening to you.

He still doesn't speak, opting to look anywhere but your face, "You're the one who insisted on splitting up--" You continue.

"God, keep your voice down!" He whisper-yells. "I can't be constantly keeping an eye on you!"

"I was doing just fine before you." You spit; fists clenched so tightly at your sides that your knuckles become a sickly shade of white.

"You would've died without me."

Your features harden, memories flashing like a projector reel in your mind: Freshman year. A charmingly handsome boy asking you to see a movie with him at the drive-in theater. Kisses and clandestine meetings. Heartbreak and betrayal.

"Not what I meant." You mutter more to yourself than anyone as you make to exit the pharmacy. You can't seem to find it in you to care if he follows you or not.

Steve's shoulder burns where it collided with yours on your journey towards the smashed, once automatic doors.

The dampness of the log you're sitting on soaks through your jeans and chills you to the bone-- the fire in front of you doing almost nothing to raise your body temperature.

"You need to eat." Steve says, offering you a can of pinto beans with a twig sticking out of it, "I can't carry you, too."

You shoot him a pointed look, "I'm good."

Steve doesn't argue, just sets the can down on the forest floor next to your feet, a silent plea.

"Do you really think there's going to still be anything left in Cincinnati?" You ask, despite your instincts warning you against it, "And honestly, do you really want to be stuck with the miliary even if there is?"

"What's my alternative?" His voice low and gaze blank where he stares into the woods.

When you don't respond, he sighs, "I'm looking for someone. She told me she'd be there-- to go get her when I was able to."

"Someone?" You push

"Robin. Her name's Robin."

Your eyes widen a bit in recognition, "...Buckley?"

Steve finally turns his head at the mention of her name-- a tender, almost sorrowful look in his eyes now. Something you haven't seen in years, "Yeah."

"What're you gonna do if--" you pause, considering your next words carefully, "What're you gonna do if she's not there?"

All the softness from Steve's expression drains and is replaced by something more severe, "She'll be there."

Picking up the can of pinto beans, you take the dirty twig and toss it back into the woods, opting to eat with your hands instead, "Okay."

"Is your head alright?" He asks softly. Not out of gentleness, you presume, but to keep quiet, and not attract any unwanted attention. Dead or alive.

"It's fine," you dismiss.

"Let me see--" Steve lifts his hand in an attempt to push your hair aside. Two head injuries in less than a week isn't exactly ideal.

You swat his hand away before it can get even a few inches from your person, "I said I'm fine."

He looks at you for a long minute, but you pretend not to notice. Sometimes, you think you'd give anything to be a fly on the wall of his brain during moments like these. Steve sighs, "I'm going to get the tent set up."

A silent nod, the bare minimum of an acknowledgement and his cue to leave you alone. Another thirty minutes or so is spent staring into the slowly dimming orange and white of the fire at your feet. You think about your mom, your brother; wishing you could get to them faster but dreading it in a way-- because what happens if your grandmother's is house empty? Or worse, your family slaughtered inside?

The thought causes the beans in your stomach churn, making you queasy.

Steve's asleep by the time you lift the burlap flap and step inside your shared tent, his lips parted with the soft sounds of slumber. There once existed a version of you that would've tucked the baby hairs that curl around the frame of his face behind his ear-- whispering something saccharine sweet to him as you did so, even if you knew he couldn't hear you.

That part of you had hardened into something much more bitter. The passage of time had only sharpened your edge, not dulled it. Being around Steve again stirred and sifted the silt sitting at the bottom of your chest. He knew just which buttons to push. You couldn't afford for these feelings to begin festering. Not again.

Barely a wink of sleep came to you that night. Just red-rimmed eyes longing for respite; dreading the foreboding weeks that lie ahead of you.

Divider credit @/strangergraphics

@adaydreamaway30 / @madaboutjoe