#prompt list answer

[hanasnx]

prompt: #13

prompt list | rules

MINORS DNI 18+

WORD COUNT: 0.7k | CHARACTERS: brian o’conner x gn!reader

NOTES:

i don’t write for f&f. i just saw the first one today bcos the actual first time i watched it i remembered nothing. i was kind of inspired like brian was stuck in my head and he needed to go somewhere so i had to write him a little tidbit. i hope donnie loves it

i know brian is mostly a sub but i don’t feel like he acts like a sub in this post. sorry:/ i have a tendency to do that with my writing. hope his voice still makes sense anyway!

WARNINGS: established relationship, reader is mentioned to wear heels and a mini-skirt, accused of trying to make brian jealous and is lowkey true, no angst just a fun little smutty kind of argument.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you shakin’ your ass in front of the whole line—“ Brian’s storytelling is nothing short of greatly exaggerated, causing you to scoff in response. It’s hard to condemn him when he wears that grin so well. Your eyes follow as his finger points and gestures to make his point, as if he’s passing over that “whole line.”

“‘Shaking my ass’?” you question incredulously, sitting up in the passenger seat to adjust further facing him. “I was walking!” As if swaying your hips naturally is the same.

“Yeah, but you know,” he’s quick to interject, glancing between you and the road as his knuckles turn white against the steering wheel. “You’ve got those little, black, strappy heels I like- you’re wearing a mini-skirt- c’mon, what were they supposed to think?” The combative nature of the conversation only eggs you to rise to the occasion.

“There’s no chance in hell you think the fact I happened to be walking in front of guys means I was looking for attention.” Your hair whips around your forehead, the winds through the open windows forcing you to heighten your voice over it.

One single, clean look from Brian, blue eyes lingering in yours as he drawls, “You did with me.” that damned handsome curl to his lips, and you land against the seat. A huff of defeat leaves you like your argument deflated.

“That was different—“

“—No, no—“ Once again you have to shout over him.

“—That was different, Bri, and you know it—!”

“—You can’t fool me, baby, you did it because you like when I get like this.” A self satisfied gloat and an affirming nod from him is enough to make you wish you could pull his perfect hair out in retaliation.

Your pause of disbelief causes Brian to eye you again. It’s irritating to say the least how deeply he takes pleasure in it.

“You are so full of shit.” you mutter, shifting to swing your knees in the direction of your door, glaring out onto the landscape.

Taunting, and superior, Brian lets out two victorious laughs. “Ha, ha! I gotcha, baby, can’t hide nothin’ from me.” his pompous words pair with an emphasizing smack onto your bare thigh, and then a squeeze. When you strategically don’t play along, Brian ducks his head forward, fighting for a peek at your face turned away. “Aw, don’t be pissy, sweetheart, you’re only mad you got caught.”

That thrill in the pit of your stomach, mixed with the annoyance in your brain gets the better of you. You snap, “Shut up, Brian.”

“‘Shut up’—? Oh, okay, I get it. ‘Shut up.’ Makes sense.” That grip on your flesh hardens, and you give in order to direct your gaze to him. His expression hasn’t changed much, but his tone sure has. Tonguing the inside of his cheek as he nods nice and slow. “You’re so in for it when we get home.” It’s meaning sent straight down between your legs.

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “I don’t want to be just friends with benefits anymore” prompts

Requested by: Anonymous Request: “Hello!! I’ve been a huge fan of your prompts for a hot minute, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to make a list of “ending (or attempting to end) a friends with benefits situation with the person you’re in love with” prompts. I’d love to see what you do with it if you get to this 👀 Thank you!!!”

“I don’t wanna sleep around with you anymore. I’m tired of being just a body for you to fuck.”

“We’re practically a couple anyway so why can’t we just like… Upgrade to that instead of staying as fuckbuddies?” 

“I’m trying to get out of the fuckzone here.”

“What’s stopping us from becoming more than this?”

“This isn’t what I had in mind,” Character A says, sighing as Character B nips lightly at their neck. “I wanted to talk about us, damn it.”

“I wasn’t going to get on my knees for you tonight.” “…Well, look at where we are.”

“How did me wanting to have a conversation about us end up with me naked in your bed?”

“The more I fuck around with you, the more my feelings for you are getting worse. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“I’m not here just for the sex. At least not anymore.” 

“I’m emotionally attracted to you, as much as I am physically attracted to you. This is to say I don’t only love to fuck you, but I’m… I think I’m in love with you. And, fuck, I never said anything because I knew you’d give me that look.” 

[spacedace]

Damian doesn't know who Santa Claus is and Danny tries to gaslight him into believing in Santa

Okay but, like, wouldn't even be gaslighting! Santa canonically does exist in the DC universe, I think I remember reading something about him fighting through an army in hell to give Darkseid a single piece of coal once?

So like, Danny doesn't have to gaslight Damian into believing Santa's real, he just has to pull out the proof (Danny has a binder of everything he knows about the Spirit of Christmas for the purpose of when he eventually goes to war with him, Danny hates Christmas so fucking much haha) and show him evidence that Santa is real.

Probably ranting the entire time about how much he hates the guy & Christmas and it's obvious that this is Danny's arch nemesis. His one true villain above all others. Pariah Dark? A nuisance. Dark Dan? Just a tuesday. Santa? That motherfucker is the bane of Danny's existence and he will pay for what he's done (spread Christmas cheer).

And Danny's the newest member to the family. Damian's been encouraged to get to know his new brother and try and bond with him a bit, make him feel like part of the family. So, obviously, the best way to do that is to help Danny in his quest for vengeance.

And of course Tim & Jason end of getting roped in on this. Damian's grown since he's first came to live with his father. He still is a little brat to his older brothers - he's the baby of the family it's his right - but he doesn't actively hate them anymore and can admit when their particular skills would be useful. Tim is the best at strategizing, and Jason is a combat master with access to all sorts of weapons. With all of them working together Santa has no chance, they will destroy him.

Which all just makes me think of something like this happening lol:

“What…uh, what are they doing?” Duke glanced between the chaos unfolding in the family room to where Dick was calmly seated in his favorite chair, sipping idly at a cup of coffee.

“Sibling bonding.” Dick said. There was that specific aura of calm around him that said that he’d already gone through several crisis and all the stages of grief at least twice. Considering the calamity and chaos the eldest batkid had seen over the years - and especially the last few months since Bruce officially adopted Danny and brought him into the fold - it was a bad sign that he’d reached this particular state of Done (TM) before noon. The earliest Dick even woke up was two in the afternoon.

Duke contemplated turning around right then and there - the particular combination of people all excitedly feeding off each other’s feral energy on the other side of the room was a catastrophe in the making he didn’t want to be anywhere near when it finally breached containment and spilled out into the wider world - but unfortunately he was cursed with the curiosity that afflicted all members of the bat clan.

“It looks like they’re plotting to try and kill Santa Claus.”

Dick turned to look at Duke fully for the first time since he’d entered the room. He had the eyes of one that was deeply haunted by the horrors they had witnessed. On the other side of the room Tim was ranting about anti-magic tech while Danny, Damian and Jason argued over what weapons would be most effective against a demi god. There were schematics of what looked worryingly like a rocket launcher looking device that - if the scribbles on the whiteboard someone had drug into the room where to be believed - was going to be rigged to shoot ecto-grenades.

“Danny hates Christmas.” Dick said, and Duke noticed for the first time that his hands around the coffee cup were faintly trembling. “He’s declared Santa is his arch nemesis.”

Duke blinked, glancing over to the others long enough to see Danny start frantically scribbling the words Christmas Nuke on the whiteboard. No one else was trying to erase it. Tim looked worriedly contemplative. Damian and Jason where both nodding in agreement.

He was going to regret this. “But Santa isn’t real?”

Dick’s eyes gained a faintly manic glean, and Duke could faintly hear the sound of porcelain creaking warningly beneath the desperate hold he had on his coffee cup. “That’s what I thought!” Dick said, with enough cheer to make Duke flinch back instinctively. “But apparently he is.” A distinct crack appeared in the cup, coffee dripping down into Dick’s lap. “And apparently they’re going to war with him!”

Well, Duke considered, at least that explained why he caught the four of them burning down the giant Christmas tree in the city center last night.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Sooo i saw those promts and immediately fell in loveee. Just imagine a heated argument between hotch and reader with “why do you even care?” and “because i care about you, okay!?” Like inagineee the feelings😩😩

Caring

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of sweet Jack bug, Aaron feeling bad :/, some pining?, nothing past friendship though, happy ending!, I think that's all!

Word count: 2k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Ohhhhh yes!! Yes yes!! I wrote this about Aaron feeling like he's not there for Jack enough as he grows up so I hope that's fine! I'm not really sure I made it angsty but more hurt/comfort maybe? I hope you like it 🫶.

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle @hotchsdoormat @ssahotchnerr @criminalskies @beardedhotchh @hotchnerbau @ssamorganhotchner @mrs-ssa-hotch @canuck-eh @luvehotch @callm3c0nfus3d @ivyflowers13

Hotch: @14buddy22 @pastanoodles11 @htchnr

Let me know if you want to be added to my tags🫶.

Aaron has a tendency to keep everything locked inside. Everyone knows it. You wish he would talk to you, or at least talk to someone, but to your knowledge he never really has.

You know he's not okay. The entire team knows it. You don't know what exactly is eating at him so badly but you know there's something going on whether it's his home life or his work life. The last few days he has come into the office only to shut himself in and not talk to anyone unless he really had to. When he did talk he kept the conversations as short as possible.

Rossi tried to talk to him but Aaron shut him out just the same. You decided you would try. You had always been closer with Hotch when it came to understanding each other whether words were spoken or not. It was always easy to tell when the other wasn't alright. Not that he ever talked to you when he wasn't, but you always let him know he could if he wanted or needed to. You would pat his shoulder or squeeze his hand. Once you even hugged him and he was tense during it but still welcomed the embrace and managed to relax into it slightly.

You planned it out a little. You would stay late, or at least until everyone else left aside from Hotch of course, and then you would go to him. You would try to console him and help him through whatever was going on inside that head of his.

Once everyone has gone home for the night you make your way to Hotch's office and knock which, as always, is met with a 'come in' that is muffled by the closed door.

You open the door and step in then close it behind yourself. He immediately looks up from the papers on his desk and meets your eyes. He wasn't really working. You don't know exactly how you knew but you just knew. It almost looked like he had been crying before you came in, but you couldn't be sure about that. It was darker in the office than he normally kept it. He looks a little...lost. He just looks sad or like he's carrying something inside that he doesn't know how to deal with.

"How can I help you, y/l/n?" His voice is cold as it usually is.

You walk closer and sit down in the chair across from him. You don't hesitate. You want to know what seems to be tearing him up inside. So you ask him.

"Hotch, what's going on? What's wrong?" Your voice is soft but you're direct about this.

"Nothing is wrong, y/n. I'm fine. Everything is fine." It's empty. The words are empty. He doesn't mean them. You always know when he doesn't really mean what he says and he knows it. Why he still chooses to do it, to lie, you're not entirely sure because you both know it is pointless to lie to the other.

"Hotch, you're shutting everyone out and shutting yourself in. You've been short with everyone, even Penelope and you almost never get upset with her. You are staying even later than you normally do, which definitely says something because sometimes it already seems like you never leave. You yelled at Derek and Emily for joking around like they always do, you never yell at them you just tell them to focus but it is always calm and stern. This time you yelled. You couldn't be more obvious about this, Aaron." You always use his first name when it's something personal and between the two of you. You both use each other's first names when you're trying to get a point across. Neither of you are sure about when that started.

"Y/n, I'm fine. Really. I just have a lot of extra work to do right now. That's all." Once again, he's lying. Every word right there was a lie.

"Aaron, come on. Stop lying to me."

"Stop profiling me."

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"I don't need your help." That hurt you for some reason you're not sure of right now. You brush it off for now.

"What is going on? Aaron, you're not okay and we know it. You need to talk to us, to someone. Let me help you, please. I want to be here for you."

"Why do you even care?" He shoots back harshly.

"Because I care about you, okay?!"

All of these words were rushed between you both and hardly thought out before being said. You just yelled at him and that was the last thing you meant to do. He yelled first, but he's hurting and you understand that. You're excusing him raising his voice but you are internally scolding yourself for raising yours. All you want is to help him. You divert your eyes from him and look down.

"I care about you, Aaron. I'm sorry I yelled." It's a whisper.

When you look back up at him, his gaze is soft and gentle. "It's okay. I shouldn't have yelled either. You're just trying to help and...I'm being stubborn." You chuckle at that. "That's nothing new, Aaron." He smiles a little at you. You were known to joke about his stubborn and cold attitude around the BAU from time to time, he knows it but he doesn't mind.

"Aaron, please? Talk to me? I do care about you and I just want to help you or at least do what I can to try." Your voice is no longer a whisper but it's still soft and more on the quiet side. Aaron sighs and rubs his eyes a little. "It's about Jack." That immediately raises alarms in your mind and you're more concerned now.

"What's wrong? Is he okay?" Aaron can see the worry etched into your face and he understands that maybe he shouldn't have started with that.

"Jack is fine. It's more about...I feel like I'm not a good father to him." Another sigh escapes Hotch and he is now holding his head in his hands. You think you can understand why he would be thinking this. He is away very often, but you know he's still an amazing father. You've been around them both enough to know that.

"Aaron, why? You're a wonderful father. You love him so much and he knows you do. We all know you do. You do everything you can for him. I'm sure he knows that." He looks back up at you and he seems defeated. He still looks sad and lost with himself.

"But I'm hardly ever home with him. I'm not around as much as I want to be. I want to be able to help him figure life out as he grows up. I've missed important things in his life. I don't want him to grow up feeling like he had an absent father." You think you see tears in Aaron's eyes, something you've seen a few times during a few cases. It breaks your heart to see such a good man feeling like such a terrible dad.

"I think Jack understands. You've explained it to him, that the job takes you to many places. And he won't see you as a failed father. He sees you as his hero, Aaron. He looks at you like a real-life superhero. He understands that your job helps save people and even though he's just a seven year old boy, he supports it. He loves being able to talk about how awesome his dad is for saving people all the time." You offer Aaron a smile but he doesn't return it.

"How do you know all of this? He's never said all of that to me. Once he said I was a hero on Halloween, but not everything else."

"The playdates I've been over for and the dinners at Rossi's where the BAU kids were invited. Aaron, Jack loves you so much and he looks up to you." He smiles at that. Jack loves you too and often asks for you to come over to watch Spider-Man or to play with his action figures with him. He's a wonderful kid to be around.

"That's...that's really nice to know. It does help. But it doesn't change that I still feel like I'm missing out on more than is acceptable." He frowns again and looks down at his desk. You think for a moment and an idea comes to mind.

"I know it's hard to have a home life with the job we have and I also know that for you it's hard to get everything done in a reasonable amount of time because you have more to do. So I want you to let me help you a little more. A couple nights a week when we don't have any cases and I've finished my work for the day, I can stay a bit later and help you finish enough work to be able to go home to Jack before he's already asleep. How does that sound?" Your tone and expression are so kind and hopeful. You hope he takes you up on your offer, but you wouldn't be surprised if he didn't.

Aaron stays quiet for a moment and you can tell his mind is letting loads of throughts fly through it. Probably about how he shouldn't take advantage of you offering this or maybe how he thinks it's unfair to you. He wants to say yes but another part of him clearly wants to decline because helping him with some of the extra work he has isn't part of your job.

After about a minute of him considering what you've said he finally speaks. "Y/n, are you sure? It's not your responsibility. You really don't have to do this. I'm sure I could find a way to do this without taking up your time." "Aaron, I don't have anyone or anything to go home to at night aside from my bed and my TV. I'd rather stay a little later and help you go home to see Jack." He finally cracks a small smile and takes another moment to think before ultimately nodding.

"Okay. But only a couple nights. I don't want to take you away from your time to relax." You nod in return before responding. "I think we'll all be able to relax as long as the boss man isn't snapping at people or shutting himself in all the time anymore." His smile widens when you call him 'boss man'. He's always thought the nickname was a little funny but he wouldn't tell anyone that. "Don't worry. I won't be yelling at anyone as much, I'm sure."

"You might want to apologise to Reid for when you went off on him about his physics magic the other day. I think you hurt his feelings." He chuckles and it's such a sweet sound to hear. "Yeah, I do feel bad about that. He really is starting to get some distance on those. He almost hit Strauss with one so I think that's why I yelled." You snort a little. "Would that have really been bad if he had hit her with one?" Aaron grins at you. "No, I think it really would've made everyone's day actually. Erin would have come down on me for it but I guess now that I think about it, it would have been worth it to see her expression and confusion about physics magic." Both of you laugh a little at the thought.

The deal you made started and you stayed later to help Hotch finish the extra work he had left to do. That night you were also invited to have dinner at the Hotchner house and you're pretty sure it was the best meal you had ever had. Filled with laughter and smiles. It was something that made your heart flutter. You're happy to help Aaron, especially when you know it means he and Jack both get to be much happier.

[eloquent-edits]

Hello!!!!

I'm writing a rivals to lovers office AU and am in need of some inspiration. Can you please do a list of office AU prompts? I don't mind if they get suggestive.

Absolutely! (Also thank you for being the first person to request prompts :3)

Character A and character B have issues with their work computers at the same time, and the poor IT guy has to deal with their bickering while fixing the computers

The printer is constantly breaking and A can’t help but snidely remark on B’s struggle every time it happens

B critiques A’s work whenever they get the chance, claiming A needs to do better if they want to get up to B’s level (the criticism is actually kind of helpful, just poorly worded)

B’s desk is across from A’s, leading to stare-downs when the other seems to be slacking on work and eyebrow raises when personal calls are taken

A leaves anonymous sticky notes on B’s desk about office drama, rumors, and random news stories to see what sort of conversations B likes (B usually looks at these with confusion, throwing them away buT THEY KEEP SHOWING UP WHY)

In the company project group chat, A and B don’t acknowledge each other outside of emoji reactions unless it is necessary

They are forced to work together on a major project with much longer hours than they expected, leading to sleep deprived A actually being nice to B in the mornings (they share a quiet moment at the coffee machine)

B’s ex comes into the office as another company’s assistant, and A can’t help but be concerned at the grimace and pain in B’s eyes

A starts using the printer incidents to ask about B’s history and get to know them better

A celebration at work includes a happy hour, so B dresses up just a little more than usual and A cannot stop staring

B notices A is lingering around their desk more and teases them about wanting to take their spot (A definitely wants to take them in a fight right?)

A’s car won’t start in the parking lot, so B offers to jump it… it’s the first time seeing B less professional (let’s get those sleeves rolled up and a couple buttons loosened from the button-down)

The AC breaks while only a couple people are in office, meaning it’s up to A and B to try and fix it while waiting on maintenance, leading to B on a ladder and A most definitely trying to not stare at their butt

C, an older friend at the office, retires and throws a massive party where A and B get a little too drunk, and B accidentally compliments A instead of criticizing them (A doesn’t know how to process it and B refuses to acknowledge this ever happened)

After A openly disagrees with one of B’s ideas, B confronts them privately, getting a little too close as A is stubborn and standing firm (give me that tension you can cut with a knife, give me that turn away because otherwise one of them will do something they regret)

B finds A asleep at their desk one morning and can’t decide whether to wake them up for the meeting or to let them sleep longer because this is definitely not normal for A

Turns out A worked their ass off to get a major promotion, one that B was eyeing for a while, which makes B jealous and get a little snappy

A is shifted to another area of the office and an annoying coworker, C, takes over the old spot. B finds the change welcoming and unsettling (“They’re not here to bother me anymore…” “That’s a good thing!” “… Yes. I suppose you’re right.”)

B is called into A’s office to discuss another coworkers’ weird behavior, which gives A the opportunity to call B out on their behavior around A

“It’s like on day one of me working here, you put a note in your calendar that said to torment me whenever you could.”

“You’ve gone from criticizing everything I do to actually being somewhat nice and helpful and then right back to being an absolute prick! I don’t understand it at all. What changed? You still seem to hate me, so why be so kind? Why?”

B doesn’t respond with words, just by slowly reaching out to touch A’s hand and swiftly pulling them into a kiss (ideally B would explain more later but that’s up to you hehe)

[callsignthirsty]

Thirsty - 55 AND JAKE IM BEGGING YOU

HEY SUNNY!

YOU DON’T NEED TO BEG unless you wanted it in a timely manner. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!reader Word Count: 850 Warnings: smut, overstimulation, p in v, mentioned fingering, mentioned oral (fem receiving), the mortification of being walking in on Minors DNI

Smut Prompt #55

You’ve been seeing Hangman for a couple months now. Suffice to say, the uranium mission had made him much more agreeable. Easier to palate. Just enough of his edges smoothed to make his smart mouth charming where it had once provoked with sarcasm and biting wit. And in that time, you hadn’t exactly wanted for sex. Hangman’s appetite was something else; you can’t think of a single time he’s left you wanting. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like to take things into—ahem—your own hands every now and then. So when Hangman grumbles that Cyclone has wrangled him into a late night at North Island, you decide to have some fun.

Your assigned housing unit’s door doesn’t creak anymore since Hangman fixed it. Not that you’d have noticed after half a bottle of wine, anyway. You’d been too distracted to hear your spare key snick the deadbolt or the door open. So you were shocked into momentary stillness when Jake appeared in your doorway hardly thirty minutes after he’d usually roll around. Staying late, your ass.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks, eyes drinking you in unabashedly where you’re spread out on your bed, fingers buried between your legs. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You heaved a sigh. That wasn’t how you’d planned on your night going. Reassuring your situationship that taking your pleasure into your own hands wasn’t a reflection on his ability to get you off. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?”

You decide direct is the best approach. “Sometimes I just want to cum.” And you’d assumed he wouldn’t be stopping by after his apparently-not-so-late night.

Hangman hums as if he’s mulling it over while he unbuttons his khaki top, dropping it as he steps forward to tower over you in his undershirt and regulation pants. “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

When Hangman gets something in his head, he chases after it with his entire being. It’s one of the things about him that had both infuriated and fascinated you.

So, the answer is five.

Once as he guided your hips in a sinful grind against his thigh, sucking a bruise into your collarbone. Again with his fingers massaging the sensitive walls of your cunt and pure filth caressing your ear. Twice with his face nestled between your thighs—technically a third when he used his tongue and fingers in tandem.

“Jake,” you whimper, lightly swatting his head away from your quivering, oversensitive pussy. “That’s– ah! That’s enough.”

He chuckles, the sound originating deep in his chest. “You sure?” he asks, crawling up your tired body. All you want to do is sink into your mattress, but plush lips catch your nipple, and you can’t help the way you arch into the slick heat. He lets your nipple go with a pop. “I think I can get one more out of you.”

He takes his time playing with your tits before he nudges your legs far enough apart for his hips to slot between them. He shudders as he presses himself close, lazily thrusting his long-ignored cock along the length of your cunt. Nudging your clit and sending sparks crackling all throughout your system before drawing back to start over again. You wonder, a little hysterically, if he broke something inside of you. If he’d knocked a screw loose for you to want it after the wringer he’s purposely put your body through.

As the sensation walks the fine line between pain and delicious pleasure, you wrap your legs around his hips and roll into his next thrust. Offer him more of the friction you know he craves. He looks every bit the cat who got the cream as he brings a hand down to position himself at your entrance, but he pushes in slowly. Relief and restraint warring on his face as his jaw slackens and he fights to push in slowly, the movement slick from how wet he’s gotten you.

“There you go,” Jake rasps, muscles bunching as he lowers himself to capture bitten lips in a kiss. The rhythm he starts is gentler than you think he’s been with you before, but he’s brushing all the spots that wind you tightest. His pale eyes are half-lidded. “This okay?”

It’s over far sooner than you could have anticipated, but with everything else you’ve endured and the way Jake grinds against your sweet spot with unerring accuracy, liquid gold rushes through your veins as he makes you fall apart in record time.

“So fuckin’ hot,” Jake groans, pulling out of you to strip his cock. Grunting as he shudders through his orgasm, pearly ropes decorating your abdomen.

“Six,” he says, pressing a kiss to your stomach before leaving the bed to retrieve a washcloth.

You’d throw your pillow at him if it weren’t so comfy… or if you could get your arms to work. “Don’t sound so smug.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

You’re asleep by the time he gets back to the bed with that washcloth.

[afewproblems]

62 &/or 71 for platonic stobin perhaps?

62: It's okay to cry & 71: You are the single best thing to happen to me.

Thank you very much for this, I love these prompts and got real carried away with this! I hope you enjoy!

If you had asked Robin Buckley to describe her relationship with Steve Harrington back in her freshman year, she'd laugh in your face. 

Why on earth would King-Steve be caught talking to her, let alone do it enough to constitute a relationship?

He was a popular jock, and Robin was a freshie with a trumpet.

It wasn't how things worked.

Steve operated on the outside of her periphery. She had an awareness of him, his actions in the popular crowd. Like any minor celebrity, the gossip mill ran rampant with tales of King-Steve.

"Harrington scored the winning shot at last night's game! Not many Juniors get opportunities like that!"

"King-Steve told Tommy to leave Harvey alone cuz he's just a freshie, saved him from a swirlie -swear to God man".

“Yeah well, I heard he broke Byer’s camera the other day, so--”

"Have you seen his hair, ugh he's so dreamy!"

To which Robin thought, 'I've seen him leave half a bagel of crumbs all over his English notes, how dreamy can he be?'

And to top it all off, Tammy Thompson wouldn't stop staring at him, twirling her long blond hair around her pink varnished nails while reading sonnets from Romeo and Juliet loudly at her cafeteria table, trying valiantly to catch his eye --peak romance right there.

But Robin wasn't quite ready to think about how much she wished Tammy would bat those long lashes at her, nah, hating Steve Harrington was easier. 

Besides, he had no idea she existed, right? 

Robin grabs a can of Coke from the fridge, reaching into her pocket for change before joining her mother at the till.

The corner store was all the way out on Main Street, but still closer to home than Mevalds or the grocer on Parsons so Mrs Buckley had stopped for a few things on their way back from Robin's band practice. 

She slides the change onto the counter and pops the tab before throwing a thumb over her shoulder, "I'll go wait by the car mum". 

Mrs.Buckley nods distractedly, waving her hand with a smile and she hunts through her purse for her checkbook.

Robin makes her way down the aisle to the entrance, the little bell above the door jingles lightly. She steps over the threshold into cool November air and shrugs her jacket collar up against the chill. 

She sighs as she looks back through the window, her mom seems to be taking her sweet time, chatting with the clerk now and going through her checkbook with a smile. 

A muffled groan catches her attention from across the lot, she tilts her head towards the sound and startles when she spots Steve Harrington, the bane of her existence, leaning against a car with a can of soda pressed to his beaten bloody face. 

He hasn't seen her, his eyes are trained at a point just ahead of him as he rolls the can over his split cheek. 

What the hell?

Robin leans away, keeping herself behind her mom's station wagon and out of his sight line. 

Who would have kicked the shit out of old King-Steve? And where were his two cronies Hagan and Perkins? She had so many questions and--

Steve sniffs once, pushing the heel of his free hand into his eye as he drops the hand holding the can.

Oh.

Robin suddenly feels as though she's intruding on something private. Watching this boy she's never talked to, who she saw last Monday walking with the rest of the basketball team into the cafeteria, Nancy Wheeler hanging off his arm with an affectionate roll of her eyes and the biggest grin plastered all over his dumb face.

But this Steve is hurt and alone and smaller than she's ever seen him before.

It's bizarre.

Suddenly he's moving, throwing the can to the gravel and stepping off the car before sliding his arm across his face in one motion, he clears his throat and throws open the driver's side door.

The engine of his beemer roars to life just as Robin's mother exits the store, she frowns as Steve peels out of the parking lot, brakes squealing.

"Honestly, why they give teenagers licenses, I'll never know," Mrs.Buckley mutters under her breath as she unlocks the car and hands Robin the paper bag, "do you know that boy?"

Robin watches as the tail lights of Steve's car disappear around the corner, the image of his hunched shoulders and black eye branded in her mind's eye. 

Robin shrugs once as she opens the passenger door, "Not really".  

***

It's not until two years later that Robin crosses paths with Steve again, slinging ice cream with the former King down at the new mall.

Her first job and it’s at some horrible sailor themed ice cream shop of all places and to top it all off, she’s stuck with Steve Harrington.

Sure, she'd seen him in passing at school, watching as he slowly fell away from the popular crowd. While it was somewhat satisfying to see Tammy pretend she had never really been interested in the former King of Hawkins High, she couldn't help but remember the way Steve looked that day, face bloody, holding a cold can of pop to the worst of the bruises.

Robin can't help but wonder just what had suddenly turned Harrington's life completely on its head that day. She'd heard it was Jonathan that had beaten him up, but given how weirdly close he, Nancy, and Steve got after that cold November day, she didn't really believe it. 

Wasn't he rich too? He drove a BMW to work for chrissakes. So why was he here?

And then there’s the kids. 

They follow him around like ducklings, begging for rides during his spare time and free samples of ice cream on the days he’s working.

It would be endearing with anyone else, but it’s Steve Harrington. 

They've been working with one another for about two weeks before it happens again.

Robin idly sprays the glass display case with the spray bottle from the back. Whatever green liquid is in the unlabeled bottle smells absolutely foul but it's the only thing in the store powerful enough to get rid of all the finger and face prints on the glass from kids standing on their tiptoes to see the flavors.

They end up having to clean the customer side of the window far more often than their employee side and normally she and Steve will flip a coin for it.

Neither of them enjoy being out from behind the counter, the shorts and the socks are reason enough for this, but it also has the negative effect of piquing enough customer interest to interrupt their down time, like the movement and streak free glass shine draws their eyes.

But, nine times out of ten Steve would ‘lose’ and pick up the spray bottle without complaint. 

Robin had started to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, but why the hell would Harrington do something like that? 

She wrinkles her freckled nose and starts wiping the glass, clearing away the smudges and dirt before spraying again to get at the more stubborn fingerprints.

Steve is late today, which is weird. 

Another surprise from Hawkins golden-boy, Robin would have expected Steve to waltz in twenty minutes late to every shift, with a scowl on his face and a refusal to pull his weight. 

But it was the opposite. 

Steve would get there early, he would review the cleaning list for the day, check the inventory to see what ice creams would need to be restocked and what the special was for the day. 

The only thing Steve had ever asked her to do, was to write out the specials on the board. 

When Robin had scoffed and asked why he couldn't do it himself, Steve had gotten very quiet, chewed his lip for a beat and said, "I don't want to mess it up, or have you have to redo it for me". 

Steve shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets, "sometimes the letters are weird when I read and then it makes it harder to write them out”.

He sighs but it comes out more like a scoff, “there’s a reason I’m still here Buckley”.

Oh…so the golden boy of Hawkins High would not be leaving for college in the fall then. 

He looked at her, his big eyes traced over her face as though he were looking for any hint of a laugh.

And what else could she do in the moment but pick up the dry erase marker and shoulder him out of the way of the board with a, ‘you owe me dingus’. 

She turned her face away at the small smile Steve gave her, ignoring the twinge in her chest at his tiny confession. 

God Dammit, he was not endearing, he wasn’t!

Robin balls up the rag she used to wipe down the glass and looks up to the wall clock on the far side of the food court. 

It’s nearly eleven in the morning and Steve is still not here, she’s tempted to use the phone in the back to call his house when she remembers she has no clue what his phone number is or if it would even be listed.

She’s sure he’s scheduled with her today; it’s Tuesday, they always work Tuesdays together. 

Robin looks around the food court, scoping out the entrances and nearby tables. There’s no sign of him, no obnoxious hair, no big goofy grin, or big hazel eyes to be found. 

She huffs and makes her way to the back room, pushing the swing door open hard enough that it makes a satisfying bang against the wall. 

She freezes at the sudden yelp from the back corner. 

Steve whirls away from her, his face tipped into his open locker, his shoulders are a tense hunched line. It's a horribly familiar pose and once again Robin can’t help but feel like she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t.

“Steve?” she says softly, taking another step into the room, “whats--”

“I know I’m late,” he mumbles, the words are tight but there’s no waiver to them, “sorry”.

Robin wishes she were better at this sort of thing --her mom always seemed to know what to do and what to say when people were upset. That skill definitely skipped a generation in her case. 

He turns to face her, slowly, one hand on his nose, the other holding his wrist against his chest.

There’s an ugly, rapidly purpling bruise running down his arm where it’s cradled. The shape is strange, almost as if someone had grabbed him - it runs around the entire circumference of his forearm and--

Oh.

Steve eyes her challengingly but there’s no real heat in it, his eyes slightly shiny in the awful humming fluorescent lights.

“Actually,” Robin swallows roughly after nearly a full minute, clearing her throat as she leans back on her heels, “Uh, Marcus said we only needed one person on today, it’s slow as shit so,” she shrugs and tilts her head to the employee entrance, “you could go home if you want”.

Steve stares at her, his eyes raking over her face the same way he did after the white board incident, before he sniffs once and shakes his head, muttering under his breath that he’d rather get hit by a bus and Robin stiffens at the implication.

“You’re a terrible liar Buckley,” he says eventually, closing his locker and running a slightly shaky hand through his hair before walking towards her and the storefront, “but thanks,” Steve says softly as he passes. 

“Does that mean I can go home?” Robin calls after him, immediately wincing but pleased at the startled laugh she hears from the counter.

She follows him out front, slowly, suddenly feeling with absolute certainty that she really doesn’t know Steve Harrington at all.

***

Robin never thought she would be here. 

Not once did she think she would have ever come out to someone while she was still in highschool, let alone the former King of Hawkins high who would in turn become her best friend, her platonic soul-mate if you would. 

After the debacle that was their official last shift with Scoops Ahoy and the Russian Spy Alternate dimension bullshit where Steve risked his damn life to save her and the kids --who all knew about this monster filled Upside Down just by the by. 

So many things suddenly made so much sense, Steve and his injuries over the years, his weird relationship with Nancy and Jonathan, even the sudden personality 180.

And through the truth serum, the torture, the fire, and running down another car driven by a maniac from California, Steve was there to hold her hand, and Robin is infinitely grateful for it.

They take a job together at Family Video, attached at the hip ever since the mall burned down in July; the video store is one of the few places still hiring that summer that pays a dollar above minimum wage. 

It’s not exactly glamorous, it’s mostly restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes but it’s easy and the hours are good. 

She and Steve are able to get their shifts together most of the time, they both know this is so Keith can avoid working with Steve directly -a bonus if there ever was one. 

Things have been quiet ever since Billy’s death and the Mind Flayer’s obliteration from their world, but it’s been especially quiet since the Byer’s packed up and moved to California. 

Most of that seems to be influenced by the cloud of sadness that has draped itself over the rest of the kids and Nancy -who has been coming by more and more lately, stopping in at Family Video and lingering in the evenings, chatting with Steve while Robin shelves the returns. 

It wouldn’t even have made a blip on Robin’s radar if not for the way Steve would shut down for the rest of their close after Nancy left. 

He refuses to speak more than one word answers, refuses to engage with Robin’s one sided bantering as she balances the till and shuts down the neon Open sign.

It’s nothing like after she saw the bruises at Scoops, nothing like the quiet acknowledgement that the Harrington house wasn’t all money and sunshine the way she thought it was. 

And Robin doesn’t know what to do about it.

It’s been going on for weeks now, and she’ll be starting school again soon. She won't be able to take the same number of shifts as she could over the summer months, and Robin has no idea what will happen when she’s not there as a buffer anymore.

It’s the last week of August when she brings it up to him.

“Steve?” she says as she hands him another copy of The Terminator tape for him to rewind; it’s nearly nine at night and Nancy hasn’t been by at all today. Robin’s stomach has been in knots watching Steve watch the windows for her all night. 

He tilts his head and quirks an eyebrow at her as Robin breathes in deeply through her nose, her heart suddenly in her throat. 

“Just,” she bites her lip, “what is going on with you and Nancy?” 

Oh, perfect, real subtle.

All at once Steve’s face shutters.  

“No, come on, don’t do that,” Robin wheedles, stepping in front of him, “Steve, just talk to me--”

“There’s nothing to talk about, just drop it Robin,” he bites out as he steps around her to grab the returns cart and wheel it over to the New Release shelf.

“No, nope,” she huffs, walking quickly to the other side of the cart and grab the handles, “this is against all the laws of best-friendom”.

“That's not a word,” he mumbles tiredly, reaching up to pinch his nose and close his eyes. 

Ah shit. 

“Dingus, Steve,” Robin says softly as she lets go of the handles and steps closer into his space, “talk to me?”

Steve hesitates, seeming to chew the words or the inside of his cheek - she can’t quite tell at this point, before he blinks once, twice, his eyes rapidly becoming shinier by the second.

Oh double shit.

He shakes his head and turns away from her sharply and Robin doesn’t know what to do with her hands as Steve takes a deep wobbly breath. 

“It’s okay you know,” she finds herself saying softly as she takes a step closer, “to cry?”

Steve barks out a wet laugh and shakes his head again, still not looking at her.

“I don’t know what to do, like literally,” Robin whispers in a panicked voice, “can I, I mean, do you want a hug?”

He nods but doesn’t move as Robin steps even closer to wrap her arms loosely around his waist, he’s stiff in her embrace but slowly begins to relax the longer they stand there - as though he’s not used to something like this.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but I am here if you want to talk, or if you even just want to vent - man I want to vent,” Robin says, pulling back slightly to look Steve in the eyes, “don’t take this the wrong way, but what the hell is Nancy doing?”

Steve stills in her arms but she keeps going, “honestly, aren’t she and Jonathan still dating?” 

“Like I get that he’s all the way in California but why is she coming in here, and don’t tell me it's about the movies --she never asks me to help find anything, just you, and half the time she doesn't even end up renting anything?”

Robin stops as Steve’s breath hitches once, “it's not fair to you,” she finishes lamely, her voice petering out as Steve nods and sighs, finally bringing his own arms around Robin’s shoulders to draw her closer and bury his face in her hair.

“Thank you,” he whispers in her ear as he squeezes her tight enough to leave her nearly breathless.

“You’re the only person I can actually talk to that won’t think less of me about, about everything,” he whispers into her hair, Robin’s hands twitch as she fists his work vest between her fingers. 

“I think, you are the single best thing to have happened to me in the last like, two years Robs,” the words are constricted, as though he has to drag them out, “and…I need to tell you something”.

Robin nods as he pulls away this time to look at her, his red rimmed eyes trace over her face, just like they had at Scoops all those months ago.

“I,” he swallows and drops his gaze to the floor, “I don’t…feel that way about Nancy anymore,” Steve says quietly. 

“But you seem so upset whenever she leaves, you were looking for her today?” Robin says, confusion painting her words. 

Steve sighs and tips his head back this time, looking at the ceiling as though the answer is hidden among the ceiling tiles and water stains. 

“It's complicated, I…” his mouth opens and closes for a beat, “I am sad for her that Jonathan is gone - he was a better fit for Nancy, way better than me,” he mutters and looks at Robin once more. 

“And I know what she's doing, coming in here all the time, she’s lonely, but that's not why I’m upset Birdy”.

Robin frowns, “then what--”

“There’s this guy,” Steve blurts out, speaking over her in a rush.

Robin feels herself stop breathing, what?

His chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as he continues, “I-I’ve never told anyone this before”.

“Okay, okay,” Robin whispers, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he moves even closer and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he murmurs into her vest and hair, his breath warm and wet as his chest stutters and heaves. 

“It’s okay,” she says again, repeating the words she’s told herself the last three years, “you’re okay”.

“Loving Nancy is easy, but I…” he sniffs and breathes out, Robin feels a gathering wetness on her shoulder but it only makes her hug him harder.

“But you don’t,” she says softly, finishing his sentence for him.

Steve nods and lets out another shaky breath, finally lifting his face from her shoulder.

He’s a mess, face red and blotchy, tear tracks and snot shine in the streetlights from outside the video store window. Steve’s eyes are red and puffy and his mouth has stretched into an uncharacteristic frown that makes Robin’s chest ache. 

Now Robin’s mother may have been an expert on making people feel better no matter the occasion, but Robin was an expert on putting her foot in her mouth and making Steve laugh.

And the latter felt much more appropriate at this moment. 

“I mean, you’ve come to the right person at any rate,” she says sagely, reaching up to wipe a loose tear from his nose, he snorts and bats her hand away.

“I’m serious, if anyone is an expert in gay pining, it’s me, I’ve seen it all, if you want pointers in watching from afar and daydreaming about your illegal wedding, I’m your lady”.

Steve laughs and steps back to wipe his face roughly with both hands, it does nothing to sooth the puffy skin beneath his eyes but at least the last trace of tears are gone. 

“I’m also an expert,” she chews her lip for a moment, considering carefully how to put it into words, “on how all of this feels, and how new and scary it can be,” she says softly, “trust me, I’ve been there”. 

Steve nods, his eyes shining all over again as he tugs Robin closer into another bone crushing hug.

Just in time for the bell above the door to chime. 

Well shit.

They step away from one another, glad for the distance from the front door to the counter, knowing exactly how that might have looked to the average customer so late into the evening.

“Hey man,” Robin calls out as Steve turns away from the door to hide his face, “just letting you know we close in five so…”

The man nods, he looks familiar, Robin’s fairly certain she’s seen him at school but she can’t remember the name. 

His wild curly hair and jean vest decked out in patches and pins scream, ‘Metal-Head’, as does the ever present cloud of tobacco and weed smell that follows him and around the shelves. He makes a beeline for the small horror section at the back and grabs a tape before making his way to the counter. 

“No worries Buckley, knew exactly what I wanted, I won’t hold you and Harrington up --hey man,” he says brightly, two dimples bloom as he smiles in Steve's direction who flinches at being addressed. 

Steve slowly turns and tries for a smile, “hey Eddie,” he mumbles.

Eddie’s smile drops as his eyes trace over Steve’s face, “woah, what happened sweet-uh,” he looks at Robin once before moving back to Steve, “dude, uh, sweet dude?”

Oh no fucking way.

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks slowly getting pinker the longer Eddie and Robin stare at him, “nothing, I promise, um are you still okay to take Dustin to Indy tomorrow to the hobby shop?”

Eddie nods and smiles, though there’s still a hint of worry in his eyes as he slides the tape over the counter, “wouldn’t miss it, gotta get that kid ready for Hellfire initiation after all,” he says with a wink.

“I figured if you didn’t have anything after we could watch this at mine,” Eddie continues nervously this time, gesturing to the tape Steve scans through. 

For the third time since she’s known Steve, Robin feels as though she’s witnessing something she shouldn’t, only this time it doesn’t fill her with anxiety or uncertainty, and she’s never felt more invisible.

“I’d like that,” Steve says softly as Eddie beams at him, wrapping his knuckles against the counter as he hands Steve three one dollar bills.

“Sounds like a plan my liege,” Eddie hums as he bows with a flourish, coaxing a laugh out of Steve who is smiling like a loon beside Robin, “you bring the popcorn, I’ll take care of everything else,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks backwards towards the entrance before tipping an imaginary hat in farewell as he disappears out the door.

“That is not pining!” Robin shrieks as she whirls around on Steve the moment they see Eddie get into his van, “that was full blown flirting, how long has this been going on??”

“I’m sorry--”

“Nuh uh, you’ve been getting kissy with him, and you didn’t tell me? You got to have your first kiss before me??”

“We haven’t kissed Robin, christ we haven’t done anything--”

“Life is so fucking unfair, you had to be a ‘ladies’ and a ‘man’s’ man, huh?” She scoffs as she walks to the front of the store and switches off the sign and bolts the door for good measure.

Robin turns around only to find Steve staring at her, a nervous expression warps his normally handsome face.

Dammit.

She rolls her eyes and sighs, “I am still so proud of you for telling me, but you have to admit this is unjust,” she mutters in what she hopes is a reassuring voice.

“You think he likes me then?” Steve wonders aloud as he looks from Robin to the door that Eddie left through with a small smile.

Robin drops her face into her hands, this is the man she’s chosen for her platonic soul-mate?

“You are literally going on a date tomorrow,” she grumbles irritatedly, “I watched him ask you out, not even ten seconds ago Steve”.

The smile he sends her way is blinding, and once again Robin is reminded just how much she loves this doofus, how she never would have imagined herself here as a freshman with a trumpet.

“You are calling me after,” she demands as Steve pops the till to begin cashing out while Robin hops up to sit on the counter and fill out the paperwork, “if I can’t teach you about pining then you damn well owe me a class about dating”.

Steve laughs brightly as he lays down the bills and change, giving Robin a soft grin which she returns, finally feeling as though she knows Steve Harrington much better than most.

[redd956]

Hypothermia Whump Prompts?

Yes, of course! I love cold whump (maybe too much)

Hypothermia Whump Prompt List

CW: Character Death Mention, Hypothermia

Caretaker/Whumper wrapping their coat around a shivering Whumpee

Slowly their body stopped quaking, and Whumpee felt a wash of relief mixed with exhaustion. Their legs began to lift less. Their arms shuffled stiffly at their side, and their eyelids struggled to remain staring. Maybe, I'll sit, for just a moment.

Caretaker trudges over the snow banks, cradling whumpee in their arms. "Stay awake." Caretaker begs, "Please stay awake."

Whumper is proficient living in the cold, one way or another. If Whumpee wants to survive living in the harsh environment they have to rely on Whumper. Enough is enough, Whumpee thought. They've escaped whumper, but will they ever escape the cold alive?

Caretaker's boot meets something solid in the snow banks. Brushing the snow aside, they're horrified to see whumpee.

Whumpee is so out of it, they cannot even speak, let alone recognize what's happening to them.

Multiple whumpees become trapped in the cold. Unable to stay awake, they gambled with the night. Upon getting up, Whumpee discovers that someone didn't make it.

Formal Caretaker/Whumper watched the heavy snowfall from in front of their cozy fireplace relaxing in a recliner. They sighed at the obnoxious rattling that nearly shook their front door. Their personal enemy, whumpee, sat at their doorsteps waiting to give their best pleading to be let inside.

Caretaker spying Whumpee stumbling and staggering in the middle of a freezing night.

"Whumpee?" Caretaker asked the shivering silhouette.

Magic/Nonhuman Caretaker continues to check Whumpee's vitals with the whisk of their hand, and they're growing concerned about the slowing heart rate.

"Whumper?", Whumpee's terror managed through clattering teeth. In their delirium, they did not understand who they were looking at.

[ruelpsen]

Hii, I was wondering if you have any favourite scenarios/prompts involving stuffing/burping? I've been looking for some inspiration but nothing's quite caught my eye so far

-writing anon

Sorry to keep this one waiting for so long! Here's a few ideas I've got, hopefully few to none will be repeats from past posts...

Getting ridiculously stuffed and belchy in inappropriate contexts is always a winner imo. Something about being in a place- especially one where good manners are expected- while being unable to hide how full you are, much less how much you need to belch, is so gd hot.

High stuffing sessions. Speaking from experience, it is incredibly fun to feel your sense of fullness slip away as you start to feel ravenously hungry. Put enough food and drink in front of someone who's high and you're bound to end up with a bloated, belchy, shameless mess.

Speaking of being shameless, I love situations where someone is shamelessly belching... but has no idea that they're not as alone as they think. It's especially good when the person listening is really into it!

Someone, for whatever reason, really paying attention to their burps during a stuffing session. This kind of scenario is particularly helpful from a writing perspective for thinking about how aspects of a burp, such as pitch, length, volume, throatiness, etc. change as someone gets fuller and fuller.

Getting so full that any movement leads to burping. Being that fucking stuffed and so uncontrollably belchy is so hot!

Related: scenarios where someone is able to loosen/remove clothing as it gets tight while they get stuffed, only for them to have to put it back on when they're done. Tight clothes can do wonders for getting stuffed burps unstuck!

More of a fantasy-type idea, but burps getting unrealistically loud and/or long the fuller someone gets. Sometimes a bit of imaginative thinking goes a long way...

Dom/sub stuffing dynamics. (With consent established beforehand ofc) forcing someone to eat, keeping them from being able to rub their painfully stuffed gut, being punished for burping before they were allowed to... stuff in that vein drives me wild!

Belching + orgasming during an especially sexy stuffing session. Need I say more?

Hopefully at least one of these will help inspire you!

[hanasnx]

hiii, how’d you feel writing 65 + 68 with anakin ?

i think these go pretty well together :)

prompt: #65 + #68

prompt list | rules

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.9k | character(s): anakin skywalker x f!reader

warnings: established relationship, no plot rly, no y/n, calls you “girl” once, you cry but this is not a dacryphilia piece, actual smut (eating you out, sinking his dick in), kinda fluffy in his own special way, comforting you but you’re not crying bcos of sadness or pain just overwhelming orgasm.

There's something so intoxicating about a lover who mixes pain with pleasure as beautifully as Anakin can. A well-rounded experience makes for satisfaction because he runs you ragged when he's got the time. Teasing that can only be described as torturous as he meticulously traverses your entire body head-to-toe with his hands and mouth. Erogenous zones given extra special attention as he consumes all you have to offer. As if willing to imbibe your very essence without second thought to consequence. Drinking you like red wine as you release, pouring it down his throat all the while he seldom takes a breath. Your nails scrape against his scalp as you draw his head to you, every detail of his plump lips apparent against your sensitive folds.

Nothing short of overwhelming, crying out to release boiling over emotions that can't be shook out through the tremors coursing through your very nerve endings. Exploding in a quaking orgasm, you claw on him as if intent to draw blood. His wet tongue laps up the excess, dripping down to the fat of your backside, concerned over whether or not he's wasting all you were so generous to give him.

You're limp, as lymphatic as liquid, while Anakin creeps up, hovering over you leaving congratulatory kisses in his wake. Chest heaving with hot pants, you lull your head to watch him, meeting those blue eyes already patiently awaiting you. It's not dim enough to conceal the lines of his face, becoming clearer as he crawls into your atmosphere. A level of cautious restraint to his expression that betrays his desire to have you now, yet he depends on your word. Inches apart, you smell yourself on his jaw. That wave that crashed through you so intensely, now ripples, and its effects linger. It reverberates, and that tug on your heartstrings opens the floodgates. Heavy, warm tears gather at the corners of your vision, streamlining down your pout as you fully realize the lasting impact your orgasm had on you. The feeling of emptiness between your legs is replaced with a swollen head prodding in search of your entrance. Out of humiliation, you throw your arm over your twisted countenance in an an attempt to veil it from your lover, so as to not make him uncomfortable.

Instead of invading the space you've created for yourself, your arm remains where it lay, and Anakin nips at the length of it. His soft, feathery voice soothes you in a loving croon, “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” You've done this before, he's experienced being on the receiving end many a time by it. In the past you've instructed him to pleasure you through it for it's simply a symptom of being staggered rather than pained. Not everyone is capable of it. Choking back sobs, your mouth stretches into a grimace he can't help but dip down to kiss. His sweating forehead rests along your ulna as he clumsily runs his lips along yours, grazing your teeth, collecting your spit on the crest of them.

When he retracts, a string of drool connects you, breaking as he adjusts you. Expert hands redirecting to fold your legs on either side of him, and he sinks only his glans inside. "You're too tight, angel," he whispers. Hugging him in a vice, he gently rocks his hips, refusing to introduce you to more than the tip.

Finally, you absorb his advice, and control your breathing. To be filled is an ardent desire indeed, and the sting of stretch is not welcome for your recovery. Deeply inhaling, forcing it to level until salty tears dry sticky on your skin.

"That's it, girl, that's it." he commends, "You're doing well." A large hand strokes your hair affectionately, immersing more of himself with each kind piston. "S'not so bad, is it?" His honeyed approval is a disguised method to coax you out of the shell you've retreated into. All the while he comfortably steeps his length halfway in. Your bottom lip trembles in an acutely pitiful way, to the point your lover urges you to quiet it by sucking onto it; he runs his tongue along it in order to acquaint you with slipping into your open mouth, silencing you himself as he hums in content against you. You can taste your remnants on him and you palm his rotator cuffs, momentarily quivering around his member entwined with your insides.

"'Want... need more," The only sentence you can muster, dangling off of your wavering voice as you mumble it pressed against his lips. There's a curl to his you recognize, pecking the corner of his mouth it exists on. You're unsure if he's ignoring you for a purpose because you cannot see his face to determine why he'd continue to rock inside you lazily. It's not enough, surely he must know that. "Please, Ani—?"

“Shh, just look at me, baby.” he coos. Tentatively, you slide your arm away from your sights, allowing your surroundings to come into focus. Yet again those patient, blue eyes await your meet. Steadfast, he's your anchor to this world, leading you back to the ground as he moves within you, and reminds you why you're here— who you're here with. To reward you for your bravery, he drives into you at his leisure until he's sheathed.

A gasp emits from you, squirming as if you could persuade him deeper. The sensation of being filled sorely missed to the point of extreme yearning. As soon as you're able to accommodate him, he thrusts into you with reckless abandon. Stuffing your center as many times as you call upon it.

[forestryprompts]

Can you please do some prompts about art thieves? Thank you!!!

1) Character A: There's something about the way you steal my breath that rivals even the finest painting.

Character B: You always know how to flatter a fellow thief.

Character A: Well, you know, we both have a talent for making things disappear.

Character B: Just remember, you're the one thing I never want to lose.

2) Character A: Every stolen piece feels like a part of my soul is being sold.

Character B: I see the pain in your eyes, and it tears me apart too.

Character A: We were meant for so much more, but now we're stuck in this endless cycle.

Character B: We'll find a way out, my love, even if it means leaving it all behind.

3) Character A: We're being watched. I can feel it. Be on your guard.

Character B: How did they find us? We were careful, weren't we?

Character A: It doesn't matter now. We'll need to steal our way out of this one.

Character B: If they want a game, they've picked the wrong thieves.

4) Character A: I can't believe we're breaking into this place.

Character B: But think of it as... a forced museum visit!

Character A: Oh, sure, complete with alarms, security, and a possible jail sentence.

Character B: All the best museums have that, right?

5) Character A: For you, my love, a masterpiece worthy of your beauty.

Character B: You're as priceless to me as any treasure. How did I get so lucky?

Character A: Our love is the greatest heist of all, and it's worth any risk.

6) Character A: The walls are closing in on us, love. We need a way out.

Character B: We've weathered worse storms before. We'll find an escape.

Character A: What if our love story ends here, amidst the ruins of our ambitions?

Character B: I won't let that happen. We'll rewrite our destiny, no matter the odds.

7) Character A: It's beautiful, but it shouldn't be in our possession.

Character B: Beauty is meant to be appreciated, no matter where it's kept.

Character A: What if we get caught? What if the world loses this masterpiece forever?

Character B: Relax, darling. We're art thieves, not destroyers. The world will thank us one day.

[mikecrewsteacup]

character asks

Is your character…okay?

What would be on a wanted poster for your character?

How does your character feel about death?

What’s your character’s coffee order?

What does a day off look like for your character?

What lies are told about your character? Do they believe any of them?

Does your character have a natural enemy? What about a nemesis?

Is your character resilient? Why or why not?

Would your character choose immortality?

How does your character handle rejection?

What’s the first thing you decided about your character? What’s something you still haven’t decided about them?

What does your character carry on them at all times?

What would your character give up for someone they love?

To what degree does your character follow the rules? Do they feel justified?

Is your character dangerous? Do they think they are?

What is your character’s most vivid memory?

How popular is your character? Do their friends (or fans) truly know them?

What’s the line between right and wrong for your character? How moral do they consider themself?

How does your character usually solve problems? Or are they more likely to cause them?

What would make your character cry?

Are your character’s hands warm, or cold? Does it bother them? Do they ever make them someone else’s problem?

What’s your character’s most embarrassing memory?

How far would your character go to get what they want most?

What’s the first thing your character does in the morning? What’s the last thing they do before bed?

Where is your character from? How do they feel about it? Do they ever go back?

What does your character overthink about?

How does your character feel about snowy weather?

What kind of a villain would your character be? What would it take to for them to become a villain?

Who would your character give anything to be reunited with?

What kind of lesson does your character need to learn?

Does your character have the patience for puzzles?

What was your character’s worst choice so far?

What does mercy mean to your character?

What is holding your character back? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

What kind of magic appeals to your character?

What kind of flower would your character pick?

If your character couldn’t talk, how would they react? Would they still be able to communicate?

What is your character like when they are really tired?

How does your character feel about the dishes?

What kind of weather does your character prefer? What kind of weather do they hate?

What does your character wish they could forget? If they actually could make themself forget, would they take that opportunity? Would it change them?

Given a nice camera, what would your character take pictures of?

What kind of keychains would your character have?

What’s the dumbest way your character has gotten injured?

Who raised your character? What’s that relationship like now?

Which “deadly sin” is your character most guilty of?

Who does your character trust most? Who do they trust the least? Why?

What gets your character up in the morning?

Does your character believe in love at first sight? How would they handle most cute relationship tropes?

Who does your character relate to the most? Who do they have the most trouble understanding?

If your character is a dnd character, why or how did they choose their class and subclass? If they aren’t, what would they choose if they were?

On a scale of “can fall asleep anywhere” to “sleepless in new places”, how does your character fall?

Does your character have a pet? Do they want a pet?

How curious is your character? About what sort of things? What doesn’t interest them at all?

What really bothers your character about others? How do they show it? Do they talk to the person about it?

What kind of characters are good influences on your character? What about bad influences? How does your character influence others?

What would your character never, ever do? What would they never do again? Why?

What has your character never done that they would like to try? Why haven’t they done it yet?

What kind of naming scheme does your character use for pets/kids/other nameable things? Do they care about names? Do they take it seriously, or go silly?

“Don’t get me started…” What could your character rant about with no preparation? What do they love to talk about?

What is your character like when they’re sick?

How does your character feel about “normal”? To what degree do they conform–or not conform–to the idea?

How competitive is your character? Can they be a sore loser? How often do they “win”?

Does your character do make up, paint their nails, or otherwise decorate themself? Is there a reason why or why not?

What’s your character’s relationship with romantic love? Is that something they’re interested in? What sort of person would be their sort of person?

Is your character particularly organized? Is there a reason why?

How does your character decorate their personal space?

Who makes your character feel better when they’re down?

What is your character’s idea of comfort food? What about comfort media, or their go-to de-stress situation/company?

What role does your character tend to take on in their group?

What is your character’s reputation like? What are they known for? How do they feel about it?

[moral-terpitude]

Hey Ava! I love the list of prompts that you reblogged! ☺️

Can I request "Should I stop talking?" || "Don't, your voice is very soothing" with Tommy? because that man’s voice just does something to me!! 😩😩

Thanks in advance if you choose to write it! ❤️

K, I’m glad you found one you enjoyed, thank you for your request! His voice is, ugh, just too much! I started rewatching the series again recently and 😍 I can’t get over it!

"Should I stop talking?" Tommy interrupted himself as you listened to the words reverberate through his chest, eyes closed, as you paused from absentmindedly carding your fingers through the hair on his chest.

“Don't,” you sighed as the fire crackled, a smile playing at the corner of your, now, very un-rouged, lips, “your voice is very soothing.”

The rain had been pattering away at the roof of the Watery Lane house for the last few hours, not that you had heard most of it.

With luck, no one had noticed your absence from the Garrison as the pair of you snuck away, shoes clicking on the cobblestones, the only silence in the echo occurring when he would stop to pull you into an alley or some alcove of an abandoned building for another stolen kiss before continuing on.

“What was I saying?” Tommy questioned, a hint of a laugh coming to his voice as he pulled you closer, if it was at all possible, with a large hand splayed against the small of your back, warmth from his fingertips permeating the cotton undershirt you had pilfered, and sneaking it’s way into your bones and heart with ease.

“Hmm,” you mused as you returned to your previous activity, peeking through your lashes and wiggling until you could reach to caress his jaw with your lips, as your shadows moved along the wall with every action, “I don’t recall, but you’re welcome to circle back to the ‘I love you,’ portion and go from there.”

Send me a request from THIS prompt list, and I’ll write some lines to go with it!

[calzone-d]

ted + "i wasn't sure how much longer i could have taken this..." from the prompt list pretty please! 🤍🫶

i miss ted so fucking bad ugh. and lil hen!!!

tw: custody battle, emotions, michelle

read more here!

—

henry was fast asleep smushed between you and ted on the couch. your eyes had grown heavy too, with your head resting on top of henry’s.

michelle didn’t give two fucks about henry flying alone, so when it was clear ted couldn’t take off work, you agreed that you’d fly out to kansas to meet michelle at the airport with henry and fly back with him.

you didn’t stop inbetween, you were so focused on bringing him back home. henry was ecstatic and buzzing with energy. he was bouncing on his heels by the time you’d gotten off your flight and in his line of vision. the backpack he had on was huge, and looked like it could’ve swallowed him whole.

michelle was playing on her phone when you approached them and didn’t pay you any mind. henry was also sporting a neck pillow and a richmond duffel bag.

the moment you were in arms reach he was lunging forward and wrapping his arms around your middle. you hugged him back so tight and smiled at his muffled “missed you, y/n..”.

he gave michelle a hug and then you were off. headed towards richmond with all of henry’s belongings. he already had a spare room at ted’s, but the last few weeks were spent decorating it so that it was truly his.

the second michelle had agreed to give over custody the two of you went all out. ted was over the moon, the happiest he’d been in a few months.

henry looked so small tucked into ted’s arms where he’d crouched down on the floor of the airport. henry giggled as ted squeezed him and you rubbed ted’s back when you noticed his eyes were glossy.

now, on the couch, he kept a watchful eye on you both. michelle put up a fight when he first mentioned her giving up custody, and it really had him on edge. he’d gotten about a million calls about overdue checkups, her not showing up to get him after school, etc. it really did a number on him.

he watched you with eyes full of love as you stirred awake.

“hi, darlin’”

“mmm.. hi, teddy.”

“wanna go to bed? the couch don’t look too comfy, hun.”

you nodded and stretched before asking, “take hen with us? missed him..”

ted wasted no time in scooping up henry and getting him settled in the middle of the bed you shared. henry stirred a little, but as soon as he felt the two of you around him he fell right back to sleep. one of your hands rubbed at his back and one of ted’s began smoothing over the boy’s hair.

you watched ted with heavy eyes as he took turns putting a hand on you both, needing to know he had both of his loves with him finally.

the soft smile you gave him brought tears to his eyes.

“finally got our boy, huh?”

henry didn’t move as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head and then one to ted’s hand.

“m’so happy he’s here, teddy.”

ted let out a soft chuckle, “me, too.. i don’t know how much longer i could’ve taken all that mess..”

“you’ve done so well.. you’re such a wonderful man. such a wonderful dad. we both love you so much.”

you felt one of ted’s feet brush against your calf, and the two of you shimmied a little closer to henry so you could all feel each other.

“want me to get up early and make y’all some pancakes?”

your eyes stayed closed while you began to grin.

“sounds perfect, babe.”

thanks for reading!

[thejujvtsupost]

The Weekend is a Blessing

The Prompt List is popular and so is Nanami today! A little drabble for prompts #6 and #30 coming up. Thank you to both anons 💗

Notes: GN!reader, fluff, sfw pillow talk, teasing, really cute tbh, Nanami works too much, post Shibuya incident - everyone lived.

Your loving husband of just under a year came home as he usually does: exhausted and his cursed energy run down.

The amount of times Nanami’s been called in for missions in the last two months has increased significantly from the Shibuya incident. This would be his first weekend off in ages and you planned on doing absolutely nothing but sleeping and relaxing together. It was exactly what he needed to refresh his energy after working so hard.

Nanami entered your shared bedroom with his hands already fumbling with his buttons, his entire body screamed sleep deprivation and you turned down the tv you had on for background noise. You struggled to sleep without your husband by your side and often waited for him to get home.

“Kento? Do you need help?” Sympathy rattled in your chest for your husband who was still adjusting to the nerve damage and numbness in his arm. Shoko was talented and reduced the damage and scarring to his arm, but even she couldn’t fix everything.

Still, you were lucky he was alive. So lucky.

“No love, but thank you. Just give me a minute and I’ll be right there.”

Sometimes Nanami had to ground himself before he could spiral into a fit of self doubt. He knew you couldn’t sleep without him and he was unable to finish his work at a normal time to be with you at night.

You worked at the school with much more regular hours, hours that started early and often ended when Nanami was on assignment.

You ignored him, got out from beneath the covers and took over unbuttoning his shirt. There were fresh bruises forming on his cheek and chest but he wouldn’t let you do anything about it until morning. “You are so stubborn.”

“And you’re impatient.”

You both smiled at each other’s teasing, Kento, as serious as he could be at times, wasn’t afraid to be a menace. His clothes were quickly dropped into the hamper before you both got comfortable in bed.

“Can you blame me? My husband is home.” Your head found its way onto his chest as always and soon your limbs were tangled together.

Nanami hummed, “I’m sorry for being so late, mission ended up being more difficult than expected. Yuuji did well though, he handles pain better than most.”

“Yuuji’s hurt?” You immediately sat up- well, tried to but Nanami held you down. “He’s fine, darling. Barely a scratch.”

Yuuji was important to both of you, all of your students held a special place in your heart but Yuuji… Yuuji had no real family left. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Nanami kissed your lips, then your forehead and it wasn’t long before you were both fast asleep, unable to keep your eyes open.

You’ll check on Yuuji in the morning.

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open!