#kait i know this is u

[orcelito]

minor details, but in chapter 68 of trimax we do see this bit:

the items that vash kept in his coat.

a "funbari doll" (which i cant find anything definite online about what that is with just a cursory look, so im going to run under the assumption that theyre some kind of collectable in-universe) & it's a red one, which is apparently rare. he still has the same pen radio that connects to his earring that's used waaay back on the sandsteamer. a swiss army knife, a random key, a used tissue (?), and...

a lighter? blow torch? i still cant tell what that last bar thing is tho. & i guess he had some kind of (normal) coin too? but Only One.

love the characterization implications for this lol. definitely the kind of pocket contents i'd expect from a silly immortal with a big coat

[littleladymab]

Fic Authors Self-Rec!

Ahhhh thank you @fourteenfifteen for the tag! (You can find Hen's post over here!)

Rules: When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love

Also I'm totally going to CHEAT, because I absolutely LOVE my two big series that are NOT popular at all LMAO

the scars that we're made of series! This is my "Star Wars Rebels S5" fic. This is my "did you hate the ahsoka show for yes girl giving us nothing??" this is my "do you also want to know what happens after rebels but don't want it to be EXCLUSIVELY thranto?" THIS IS MY FAVORITE SERIES I'VE WRITTEN like the whole thing top to bottom bangers imo It's not yet finished, I still have to write my Eli prequel but honestly, if you love Rebels, read this! Here's the tumblr post for main fic, far from the world that i made.

inside every open eye series! This is a fantasy Magnus Archives fic, in which Sasha steps in to take over the role of the Archivist after Jon goes missing during a ritual for the Beholding. I love a lot of the visuals from this, and I loved writing for Sasha -- plus there's a lot of fun side-stories. This one is complete! Here's tumblr post for the main fic, tiny cracks of light.

my place to land. What is UP SIGNET/ECHO NATION, ALL FIVE OF YOU! I wrote a novel for my rare pair because i am actually three bodyguard AUs in a trench coat captaining the good ship I made up. Twilight Mirage is still my favorite fatt season, because it is exactly my aesthetic and also, Signet is there. This is still one of my favorite fics, even though I can think of many things that i would change upon a rewrite. I got a lot of amazing gift art from friends when I was updating it, too, and I treasure everyone who came to read it!! It is currently still the longest fic in the fatt tag, but not for long it does look like there is someone rapidly catching up with 74k on a 6/14 chapter fic. It was fun while it lasted! Unfortunately, twitter moments went kaput so I will have to figure out some other way to put all the wonderful fanart everyone made for me!

'til my lungs burn bright. Affectionately called my "regency magic spies AU" for Ace Attorney, specifically this is for AA4/Klapollo!! This is a sequel to a fic I haven't finished yet! (Someone encourage me to finish the main fic! it's what i'm supposed to be working on this month!!) I love this setting SO much and I loved making all the little references to in-game moments. Here's the tumblr link to the fic ;) I had a hard time picking between this and my sleeping beauty klapollo au.... Also shout-outs to Joanie for doing the WONDERFUL art for it!!! (I should actually go put it in-line with the fic text too oops)

Theseus' Ship. The Anders Defender has LOGGED THE FUCK ON. That's it that's the post. No okay, it's an Anders character study and i think it absolutely slaps. Here's the tumblr link to the fic!

Bonus very short fic that I still enjoy, which you can also read even if you're not in the fandom, but Five Steps To Ensure Your Soulmate Becomes a Ghost from Rusty Quill Gaming.

Honestly I love everything I write because I am an audience of me first. The current version of my masterpost has links out to a lot of my fics from different fandoms -- like some of my other friends at the table content and my jgm labyrinth au and my lockwood fic! That's my best piece of advice: love what you write, and write for yourself first! And then the two little freaks in your group chat second 💞 I wouldn't have been able to do most of these fics without the besties, so thank you to everyone who has read my novel-length fics.

Tags: Scrambling to think of any of my fic writing friends let's goooo @luukeskywalker, @mariusperkins, @lesbianahsokatano, @redtailedhawk90, @bardicspiration, @krisseycrystal , @strangeharpy and there's so many of you i love you all, please go flaunt your writing and talk about your five favorite fics!! and tag me!!

[katsu28]

my friend brought up djo because of end of beginning blowing up on tiktok and i had to try SO FUCKING HARD to be normal about it when he mentioned that it was actually joe keery (like i don't have a whole ass blog dedicated to the man and his character hdjdkfl)

[toestalucia]

i was gonna find a cute gran picture but instead i saw this that i forgot i made

[flovverworks]

kaits mass-liking remains my favorite

[mountain-in-springtime]

☆- put this star in the inbox of your favorite blogs. Its time to spread positivity ! 🌷 (i'm going to read your sammy fic on my lunch break tomorrow while i listen to starcatcher as a treat and i'm SO excited!!!!)

thank you sm kait my darling!!! you’re the kindest!!! also yayyyy i can’t wait to hear what you think of the fic!!! i really hope you like it!!!

[inkluvs]

💌😙🫶🏼

kaittt <3 i love u soo much that i think it’d be impossible to write down everything actually so i’ll just say one. so i won’t!! i love how you always have my back, like even when i say something undeniably questionable i know you’ll match my energy you know? you always match my enthusiasm for something and we can always tell together it’s super refreshing <3

[dukesmebby]

🦋 and 🎵 !! ly

ilym! 🎵 touch tank-quinne 😌

🦋 Describe yourself in three words hmm this is so tricky for me :/ id say i’m honest, goofy, and chill !

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[sunshinesteviee]

emma omg omg pushing strands of their hair out of their face with steeb pls and thank u ily forever 🫶🏼

kait!!! omg ilyt this is for u MWAH 🫶🏼

-

Your boyfriend is beautiful. His soft hazel eyes, his pretty nose, the most kissable lips, the cute little moles dotting his cheek. Everything about him is just gorgeous. It’s unfair, actually, just how pretty he is. You could stare at him all day long, if he’d let you, but no matter how confident he can be, he still gets shy under your gaze, so you have to be sneaky about it. But sometimes, you just can’t help yourself.

The best time of day — your favorite time of day — is when you wake up before him, warm yellow light spilling in through curtains, and he’s still fast asleep beside you, cheek pressed into his pillow. He always looks so peaceful, so innocent, with his lips parted, his soft, wavy hair falling into his face. He’s perfect.

Scooting in closer to Steve’s sleeping figure, you snuggle into his chest, leaving just enough room to still admire him. From the close angle, you can count each of his long lashes, trace the freckles and moles that dust across his cheeks. A lock of dark hair curls around his ear, another twisting down his neck, disappearing beneath the blanket, even more falling into his face. It’s been a while since he’s had a haircut, and it’s getting long and shaggy.

Fingers tracing down the length of his neck, you twist a soft wave around your pointer finger gently. It wasn’t your intention to wake him up, but he groans softly, nose scrunching up as his eyes flutter open after a moment. You grimace your apology, though he can hardly see with how slowly he’s blinking, eyes still heavy with sleep. Cupping his stubbly cheek in your soft hand, you murmur, “G’morning, Stevie. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm,” he manages to grunt in response, not angry or annoyed, just still half-asleep. His body curls towards yours, an arm searching for your waist as his nose pushes into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, “mornin’.”

“Sleep well?” you ask softly, the hand not on his cheek rubbing a gentle line up the curve of his spine.

“Mhm, good,” he breathes out, lips pursing into a light kiss against your neck. “How ‘bout you, baby?”

“Me too,” you reply, moving in closer than you already are, a leg hitching up over his hip to press your torso to his. You’re both on his pillow now, huddled together on his side of the bed. All of your senses are filled with Steve. His smell, his warmth, his strong arm holding your waist, his heartbeat, his sleepy eyes meeting yours.

A lazy smile tugs at the corners of Steve’s lips as your eyes meet. It’s so soft, it nearly makes you melt into the bedsheets right then and there. Sometimes you’re not sure you deserve the softness. The love that Steve always looks at you with. The utter adoration for you that seeps from him, even in this half-awake state. Your hand slides up his back, tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, running the soft strands between your fingers. You want him to know just how much you love him, too, but you’re not sure how to say it, not so early in the morning. You hope he can feel it.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as you lay with each other, all soft touches and gentle kisses, quiet whispers as the sun rises further into the sky, spilling bright light into your room. You sigh loudly after a while, knowing you need to get up, and Steve, finally more awake, pulls his face from your neck to really see you. He gives you one of his gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles, and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, “I’ll make ya coffee, honey.”

The long, wispy hair hanging in his face brushes against your forehead, tickling you slightly and causing your eyes to close, nose scrunching up. Giggling, you reach up to push your hands into his hairline, pushing all of it out of his face. He looks a bit silly, but still so handsome. “Mm, yes please.”

He shakes free of your grasp, hair falling into his face once again, an over-dramatic pout gracing his lips, “Okay, well I’m not going to make you any if you’re just going to tease me, baby.”

“Sorry,” you rush to apologize, a smile still tugging at your lips as, this time, you delicately push a few strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear, “‘m sorry. You’re so pretty it hurts, Stevie.”

A soft pink blooms on Steve’s cheeks. His eyes roll, but there’s the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips, “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“I’m serious!” you reply, a deep frown creasing the space between your eyebrows, “Y’so pretty, Stevie. Prettiest boy this side of town, no question.” You sweep more hair back out of his face, pressing little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the moles dotting his skin, anywhere you can reach.

Steve all but giggles, face scrunching up as he leans into your touch. “Stop,” he says in a way that clearly means keep going, cheeks somehow even pinker as he pushes his face back into the crook of your neck to hide.

You giggle with him, cradling the back of his head as your fingers continue to card through his hair, “My handsome, beautiful, hot boyfriend and his ridiculously soft hair. Love you.”

“You’re just jealous of my hair,” he mumbles into your skin with a loud huff, and you can practically feel the eye roll he’s giving you. “Love you, too, though, pretty girl. Still want that coffee?”

[taintedcigs]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓

“Can’t you just— can’t you just go?” “I’m not leaving you alone until you’re okay.”

with stevie? bc i know my ass would say some dumb shit to push him away just to see if he’d choose to stay🫣🥺

ily hunny!!!

who could stay?

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

word count: 700+

warnings: nothing rlly, steve comforting u, reader having a bad day anndd just some fluff! a little kiss, and VV cheesy!

a/n: kait you're so real for this and this prompt is just so arghhh and cute i wanna d word i love steve sm and i def feel u bc i would so do this and i hope i did it justice bb ily <33 also i listened to the archer when writing this it is heavily inspired by it lmao💗😭

join my birthday celebration!

you never knew what came over you when you were upset, ready to push away anything and anyone, at the expense of your own happiness.

you knew you didn't want to be alone, you knew you wanted someone to be there for you, comforting you, taking care of you.

but you couldn't help but push everyone away, just to see if they would see through you, if they could see through the cold front you put up, just to see if they would stay, even when you asked them to leave.

"'m fine..." you muttered, your eyes glossy as you avoided his, steve was gentle with how he treated you, sat next to you as his knees softly brushed against yours, his hand comfortingly placed on your thighs for reassurance.

he shook his head, he didn't believe you, he knew something was wrong, he knew something had upset you, and he wasn't going to leave until he was sure everything was okay.

he studied your face, taking all of your features in, his mind fuzzy with how beautiful you were, and worry took over him as he saw how your face soured and fell, he wanted to be there for you.

"you don't look fine, sweetheart." his voice was dipped in honey, ever so sweet and the nickname was enough to have your heart pounding out of your chest, but you didn't want him to see you like this, you didn't want to break down in front of him.

"you don't have to worry about it." your voice was cold, tone barely audible, but steve didn't mind.

and you hated that he didn't mind it, you didn't want to hurt him, you didn't want to ruin him with your own fucked up mind, you had a lot of bad days and you never wanted to drag him down with you, he deserved better than that, he didn't deserve to be sucked up in your own darkness.

"honey..." his hand was quick to caress your cheeks, "are you kidding me?" his tone was mellow as his finger tips gently grazed against your chin, lifting up to make you face him.

his dreamy eyes met your glossy ones, his brows furrowed with worry as he saw your bottom lip jutting out, smudged mascara and your puffy nose giving you away.

his heart ached at the sight of you, he wanted to help you, make you feel seen, take care of you.

"i will always worry about you, sweetheart." you winced when he said that, even though his words were warming your heart, you didn't want him to go through your pain.

"i don't want you to." your tone was avoidant, your eyes were anything but, you were wishing he could pick up on it, wishing he could see how hurt you were, but the words that escaped your lips wanted to push him away.

"can't you just..." you tried to stop your words, you knew the last thing you wanted was for him to leave, you wanted him to stay more than anything, but you didn't know how to ask for help.

"can't you just leave." you faced away from him, harshly, and steve's stomach twisted with how you were acting, he knew you didn't mean it, he knew you needed him, he saw right through you, even though you didn't realize it.

you expected him to leave you, you expected him to sigh at your stand off-ish attitude, leaving you all alone.

what you didn't expect was, "no." leaving steve's pouty lips as he shook his head at you. "i'm not leaving you alone, not until you're okay." his gaze was sympathetic, his tone soft and hands squeezing yours in a comforting manner.

"i'll be silent if you need me to, but i'm not leaving you alone, you're trying to push me away, but i won't let you, not until i know you are okay." his brows furrowed in worry again, not blinking as he observed you.

you couldn't help the small smile your lips twitched into, beaming at the fact that steve had chosen to stay, that steve didn't leave you alone. he saw you.

you couldn't help the sobs that escaped your lips, so raw and gut-wrenching that steve immediately wrapped his arms around you, his heart aching with sympathy as he engulfed you with his warmth.

you embraced him, and you let him take care of you, "thank you, stevie." you murmured into his chest between your sobs, he understood you in a way no one could.

"anything for you, honey." his touch was tender as he pressed kisses into your hair, telling you everything he loved about you as he murmured affections into your hair.

his sickly sweet tone and his comforting grip on you making you realize that, steve was there for you, always.

[stvharrngton]

so first of all babes, CONGRATULATIONS ON 1k!!!!! u definitely deserve it🥹🫶🏼💖

second i’m on my period (therefore im a horny mf rn) so id like to request 💌, prompt from list 1- "aw, it hurts? too bad. you're gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied."

kait my baby 🥺 thank you so much and thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy 💓

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, size kink, choking, titty slapping

prompt: “aw, it hurts? too bad. you’re gonna keep taking it until i’m satisfied.”

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

1k celebration

You and Steve were a mess of hands and lips, fingers wandering over soft skin, kisses hot and rushed. You were all over each other the second you got home, fingers tugging at the boy’s wild hair, his own yanking your shirt over your head, thrown over the tall lamp in the corner of the room.

Neither of you were entirely sure what set this in motion. Maybe it was the way Steve stared at you from behind the counter of Family Video when you went to visit him, mouth parted and a flustered look on his face. Or maybe it was the skirt that you wore, the one that was a pretty pink and definitely a little too short. The one that showed off the swell of your ass as you bent over to tie your shoe.

Steve couldn’t decide if you wore it on purpose or not.

Truth is, maybe you did wear it on purpose. Searching through your wardrobe specifically for it with the only intention of getting some sort of reaction out of Steve. And it worked. It definitely worked.

But when you found yourself on the boys lap, his fingers squeezing at your ass as he licked into you all sweet and soft you couldn’t help but want something more. A little more rough.

You wanted him to manhandle you a little, pull on your hair, spank your ass. The need to have his big cock bully his way in and out of your tight pussy almost carnal.

His eyes turned dark when you muttered out a little pathetically, that you wanted Steve to be rough on you, that you could take it. Something you hadn’t seen in him before masking his soft features.

So he flipped you over, your back hitting the couch cushions, hair splayed out behind you. Panties damp and body wracked with anticipation. Steve grasped your jaw in his large hand, body towering over you.

“Want my cock, yeah? Is that it? Fuck, you’re soaking.”

You could only whine beneath him, hips canting upwards to try and rub yourself over his bulge. Lips swollen and kiss bitten, you cried out,

“Yeah, Stevie, please. Want that cock, I can handle it.”

Steve was big. And God, did you know it. Never able to take the whole thing, no matter how hard you begged Steve to give it to you. He’d always be soft and slow with his thrusts, always giving you the chance to get used to his size before only ever sinking his cock into you half way.

“If you say so, pretty thing.” He breathed with a laugh, taunting and teasing.

Steve flipped your skirt up your stomach, reaching to pull your underwear down your legs. He groaned at the sight of you, pussy dripping and thighs sticky. His jeans and boxers pulled low enough to pull his cock out, fingers wrapping around the length.

You let a whimper fumble past your lips at picture before you, Steve’s thick cock stiff and throbbing. Tip leaking pre-cum, a shade of pretty pink just like the boy’s lips.

He pushed his head into your clit, swiping it through your folds to gather your slick. Burrowing further, Steve slipped his cock into your hole, your walls stretching wide around him.

You hissed out, a mixture of pain and pleasure working its way through your body. Eyes squeezed shut, fingers clutching at the boy’s biceps.

“‘M not sure if you can take all this, baby.” Steve cooed, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he pushed in, inch by inch.

“Steve,” you whined, hips struggling against his grip, “please just make it fit, please, please, I can take it.”

Steve huffed at your statement, all resolve fading.

If there was one thing Steve was always good for, it was giving his girl exactly what she wanted.

His hips snapped forward with a jolt, burying his thick cock inside you to the hilt. Your walls clenched around him as he rolled his head back in pleasure, stomach clenching as he had to stop himself from busting his load right there and then.

Steve rolled his hips against your own, the tip of his cock bruising your cervix as you felt him so deep inside you. It was nothing like you’d ever felt before, a sweet sinful pain as Steve bullied your pussy. There was no other word for it.

You wailed out below him, choking out a sob as tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “S-Steve,” you stuttered, “I can’t— fuck, s’too much.”

He grunted as he kept up the pace, cock stretching you out wide, fucking in and out of your poor little hole at an unrelenting pace. His hand came down against your chest, slapping at your tits.

“Aw, it hurts?” Steve cooed, fingers grasping at your jaw, pulling your fucked out gaze back to him, “Too bad, baby, you’re gonna keep taking it until I’m satisfied. You asked for this, sweet girl.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his thick fingers wrapped around your throat now, It was all so dirty, so hot, the way Steve was pressing on your throat, the words spilling out of his mouth, how hard he was fucking you.

Your pussy fluttered around him as you felt the pressure build in your stomach. The coil a taunting twist and pull as you were on the cusp of your orgasm. Steve skirted his fingers down your torso, fisting the material of your skirt as the other brushed against your clit.

“You gonna cum, huh? Make a mess all over my cock? Come on, baby, taking it so fucking well.” Steve moaned above you, his thumb rubbing at your clit deliciously.

You couldn’t speak, nothing coherent anyway, a mixture of mumbled curses and moans of Steve’s name gasped out. You mustered a nod, a whimper of “Yeah, gonna cum. Need to cum, Steve.”

“Go on, baby,” Steve cooed, his hips stuttering now, chasing his own climax, “been such a good girl f’me, taking all of my cock. Want you to cum, can you do that for me?”

Back arching and head rolling back against the cushions, your body shook with pleasure, a white hot flash overcoming you. It stung, the pain of your pussy throbbing around Steve, the euphoria of your orgasm rolling through you.

“Oh, that’s it,” Steve hushed, fingers clutching at your plush thighs, “there you go, baby. That’s my girl.”

Steve could watch you cum all day if he could. The way your features contorted in pleasure, how your pussy clung to his cock sent shivers down his spine and straight to his length. It spurred him on, so to speak, to see how many times he could pull that out of you.

You knew now that you were in for a long night.

[spideystevie]

this is so exciting ok ok may i please request #6 - chasing someone's lips after they pull away with hangman? thank u allie ily <3

my lovely kait! thank YOU for requesting!!!! ily and hope you enjoy  <3 (0.8k) 

6. chasing someone’s lips after they pull away

A jet cuts through the sky above you, fast enough to nearly break the sound barrier. It blows your hair, leaving it almost windswept when it passes. It’s a speck in the sky in mere seconds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought it could’ve been your boyfriend.

You’d only been to base once before and you weren’t even supposed to be there then. You had to sneak in behind Jake, your hand held tightly in his as he led you around, briefly showing you the briefing room before leading you out onto the tarmac. You’d almost gotten caught, your giggles a little too loud. But despite his constant shushing, his grin had never once slipped. 

Today, you were supposed to be there. A bit of a secret, something to keep lowkey, but Mav had smuggled you in to observe today’s training. You hadn’t a clue what was going on as you sat tucked away in the corner of a room filled with other navy pilots and listened to the chatter happening in the skies over the radio. 

Now, you stood hiding to the side near a currently unused jet waiting for Jake to land. You can see him climb out of his jet, his name and callsign painted along the side, but he can’t see you. He yells something to Maverick, an obvious jest from what you can tell, as he trudges off towards a different plane. 

You’d heard them over the radio before you’d gone outside, Jake’s banter back and forth until he finally was the first one to knock Mav out of the sky. You felt a little smug, and you can tell Jake does too as he walks in the direction of your hiding spot. 

There’s a certain pep in his step, a more confident sway in his walk. When he gets close enough, nearly bypassing the jet you’re hiding by, you step into view. 

“You looked good out there, Hangman,” you call. His head whips in the direction of your voice, his face lighting up when he gets a full look at you. He hurries over, meeting you in the shadow of the plane. He squeezes you in a hug, arms tight around you as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, hands settling on your waist. You’re both beaming at each other as you shrug. You smooth a hand down the front of his flight suit.

“Mav smuggled me in,” you say all nonchalant, like this happens all the time. Jake glances over to where Maverick cranks out his pushups and then his eyes flash back to you. His fingertips sneak beneath the hem of your shirt, ghosting over the skin as he smiles at you all fond. 

There’s sure to be a burnt mark on your body from where his hands hold your waist, the touch alone sending tendrils of a fiery excitement all over your body. With the way he’s looking at you, like he’d be content to do just this for the rest of his life, you think you might burst. 

“You gonna kiss me or what, Seresin?” you joke, a smile curling around your words. A breathy laugh leaves him as he shakes his head at you. 

“You’re trouble,” he says. He gives you no time for a rebuttal, leaning his head down to kiss you. Your hands fly up to hold his face between your palms. His cheeks are soft beneath your touch and you let your thumbs stroke once, twice, against them. 

It’s something you don’t think you’ll ever tire of, kissing Jake. The feel of his lips slotted just right against yours, the way your heart seems to take flight and your head spins dizzily. A ripple of affection, smooth and sweet like honey, coursing through your veins. 

You barely have a moment to breathe when you pull away, lashes fluttering and half open, before Jake’s lips are chasing yours. He doesn’t even open his eyes, a blind chase for the feeling of your lips pressed to his. In a blink, your eyes close shut and a breathy sigh escapes from your nose. 

Your hands on his cheeks pull him down closer to you while his hands travel from the sides of your waist to the front. He hooks his fingers in your belt loops and tugs you that much closer to him until your knees bump. An almost salacious sigh gets caught in the back of his throat. 

Jake pulls away this time, leaving you perfectly breathless. Your chest slightly heaves against his, your lips a little swollen from his kiss. One of his hands leaves where it’s been hooked around your belt loop and comes up to your face. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, one corner of his mouth curled into the smirk you’d come to love. 

“Satisfied?” he asks, all cheeky snark and you laugh. A light, melodic thing that can’t help but bubble out of you because he might be a little cocky but by god, you were in love with him. You nod once, your hands falling off his cheeks and ghosting over his neck until they rest on his broad shoulders. 

“Very.”

[katsu28]

just because he's cute doesn't mean he's good just because he's cute doesn't mean he's good

[harringtonswriting]

slowly intertwining fingers while the other is driving with rooster because he is SO a holding hands while driving kinda guy i know it in my heart and soul. thank u so much my dear bree!!! <33

Kait my love!! god you are SO right and you should say it louder bc rooster is absolutely a holding hands while driving guy <3 i feel like he just loves skin to skin contact you know? always gotta be holding his love <3 i am so sorry it took so long, but i hope you like it!

...

Sometimes, on the hard days, Bradley will ask you to drive around with him in the Bronco. He never has a destination in mind, just wanting to spend some time with the windows down and the radio on as the two of you drive aimlessly around Fightertown, or along the coast, or even into the city. Wherever the wind and the roads might take him. There was one time the two of you had ended up in Long Beach because you’d accidentally fallen asleep and Bradley had decided to follow the coastline until you woke up. You’d had a good time, of course, once you’d woken up, but that was the furthest you’d ever gone when he needed to work the next morning.

Bradley never tells you what causes the hard days, at least not right away, but you know today is a particularly bad one when he’s completely silent as he comes through the front door. Normally he tries to at least make some noise, banging his boots against the front mat or dropping his bag on the floor to make sure you knew he was there. But the complete silence, even with opening and closing the door, means today is a particularly rough one.

You’re worried, of course you’re worried, but you give him some space and let him come to you. You’ve learned during the time you’ve been dating him that trying to confront him before he’s ready–even if you’re not confronting him you know Bradley will still most likely see it that way–never ends well for either of you. So you listen to him head from the front door to the kitchen, and then up the stairs, and then the sounds of doors being open and shut.

Bradley’s changed into a t-shirt and jeans as he walks into the living room where you’re lounging on the couch, ones you’d washed earlier that day and laid out on your bed for him to change into after work. His aviators are tucked against the collar of his shirt, and he’s got two sweatshirts in his hand as he comes over to press a kiss to the top of your head. It lingers longer than normal, and you reach a hand up to cup his cheek before he moves away.

“Come for a drive with me?” he asks, voice even and lacking his normal warmth. You nod, getting up off the couch and taking the sweatshirts from him as the two of you gather your things and head out the door to the Bronco. Bradley peels out of the driveway almost as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place, slipping his sunglasses on and turning the radio on with the volume down low as he starts to drive.

His right hand is resting on the gear shift, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm against the kitschy eight ball that he’d told you Natasha had given him as a joke once upon a time. You don’t mention how twitchy his hands are or the hard set of his jaw, but you do rest your hand on top of his where it’s palming the gear shift.

Bradley’s fingers stop tapping almost immediately, the muscles relaxing under your hand.

I’m here. I love you. It’s okay.

You don’t say the words out loud, but as you swipe your thumb along the back of his hand, you let your actions speak for you. You interlock your fingers with his but leave them where they are. Feeling the warmth of his larger, calloused hand holding yours is calming for you, and you hope it is for him right now. He normally finds any excuse he can to hold your hand in his, though normally he liked when he could hold your hand and press it to your thigh–he never even tried to be subtle about it.

But tonight, it’s more for his comfort than it is his love of your body. Bradley brings your entwined hands up to his mouth, and you feel his lips press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. His mustache scratches against your skin, but the sensation is a welcome one, a familiar comfort. It’s his answer, without words, letting you know he’s grateful you’re here. He squeezes once, twice, three times in succession, lingering kisses on each knuckle as he keeps his eyes on the road.

Bradley will talk when he’s ready. Maybe that’ll be in a few hours; maybe it won’t be for a few days. But you’re glad you’re here with him, that you’re in his Bronco with the windows rolled down and the evening air blowing cool across your skin, existing with Bradley through the good and the bad. You’ll always be here for him, and by the way he’s moved your hand to cradle it to his chest as best he can, you’re sure he knows it, too.

[familyvideostevie]

🐚 SEASHELL: i feel like steve is very dial drunk by noah kahan coded so may i please request "i ain't proud of all the punches that i've thrown / in the name of someone i no longer know" with our favorite reformed mean girl! THANK U EMMA ILY <33

kait!! i took this and twisted it a little bit, hope that's okay! ily <3 here's steve helping you after you get in a fight :)

--

"Stop looking so smug," Steve grumbles. "This could have been a really shitty situation." His hands are gentle despite his grumpy tone. He feels really tall from where you sit on the closed toilet

"I'm pretty sure he accidentally punched me," you remind him. "And he looked like he was going to cry after. Especially when you showed up."

"I should have broken his nose," he mutters. "I think this is gonna be a black eye. How's it feel?"

He prods at the crest of your cheekbone and you hiss, fingers gripping the seams of his jeans. "Ow, Steve." His touch lightens but his expression doesn't.

"That'll teach you to get in fights." He rubs the bruise cream into your skin and you scoff.

"Excuse me," you say. "First of all, I didn't 'get' in the fight." You use your fingers as air quotes and his mouth twitches. "I tried to stop one, and then he punched me as a reaction so I punched him back."

"Shitty punch."

He's already bandaged your split knuckle and complained about your form. Steve gets a bit testy when he's really worried, so you're taking it in stride. After he finished bandaging you up he'll be clingy and at your beck and call.

"Second of all, I have it on very good authority that you used to get in fights all the time. And lose."

He knows you're joking. You've talked about his past a lot since you got together -- late nights with his head in your lap as he explained the shit he's caused and been on the receiving end of.

"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Laugh it up, slugger. At least I know how to throw a punch."

"But you don't, anymore." It's not really a question. It's more of a reminder for Steve that you know who he is.

He shakes his head, traces your bottom lip with his thumb. "Nope," he says, popping the p. "Unless someone tries to punch my girlfriend again. Then it's all fair play."

You laugh then wince when it pulls at your eye. Steve frowns and leans down to kiss your closing lid gently before doing the same to your lips. "Let's get some ice on that."

join the celebration!