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#why was is secretly creative writing why didn't they say what it was

itoshiexx · 8 months

Text

wonder

synopsis: sae wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 800 | warnings: established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, sae is stupidly in love with u

notes: why hello! i'm barely alive! i know i kinda disappeared but i was struggling with personal issues and my mental health, so i didn't really have creativity to write. i'm not sure i like this either, but i couldn't let sae bae's bday go by without posting anything. also this is slightly inspired by the song "wonder - shawn mendes". thank you for your love and patience! <3

masterlist

there are certain things itoshi sae would never admit. like the way he loved calm walks at the beach or how seagulls were his favorite animal. how he secretly regret hurting his little brother’s feelings when he was a stupid teenager. how his life was way lonelier than the world could even imagine, making him hate the walls of his oh so empty apartment.

mostly, he would never admit he wondered what it was like to be loved — not just by anyone, though, but to be loved by you.

he’s not sure when it started. he can’t pinpoint the exact moment his heart began beating faster and his black and white world was filled with color, but he does know that, inevitably, it all comes back to you, like you’re some sort of big bang that created his whole existence. itoshi sae doesn’t think he was actually himself before he became yours.

if you ask him, he’d say it’s a bit pathetic, really. he was never a guy that cared about romance, and he definitely didn’t believe in the concept of a love that could sweep you off your feet, like the hollywood movies desperately tried to sell. perhaps one of the reasons he liked you so much was because you managed to prove him wrong, and not many people were able to do that.

sae was usually right. but you, in his life — that was even more right than his stupid beliefs.

“sae, i need to get up,” your voice breaks him from his stupor, and, instinctively, his hold on your waist tightens. it’s some sort of protection, he thinks. not to you, but to protect him from the pain of having you stray away.

(he never wants to let go).

the football player twists his body to trap you even further on the mattress, burying his face on your chest and tangling his legs with yours. your giggle reverberates through his whole body and brings warmth to his cheeks. his heart flutters, and he can’t even find it in him to hate it.

you must have put a spell on him, he concludes.

“i’m serious. i need to make breakfast,” you say again when he doesn’t answer.

“don’t wanna.”

“you don’t want breakfast?”

“nuh-uh.”

you giggle again, and this time, you seem to give in, relaxing your body and welcoming him in your embrace. sae can only sigh in satisfaction when you card your fingers through his reddish-brown locks, relishing in the peace only you seem to be able to give him.

“i wonder what people would think if they knew how clingy the all mighty itoshi sae can be,” the teasing lit in your tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and you earn a scoff.

“shut up,” he quips, although there’s no real bite in it. “you love me.”

and you must not be from this world, because it’s easy — the way you pick up on any slight nuance of his voice or demeanor. it’s so fucking easy for you to read him like an open book and to give the reassurance he so desperately needs; albeit unaware.

your voice becomes impossibly soft, “i do, baby. i love you so much.”

you kiss his forehead, and after wandering around for so long, sae thinks he’s finally home.

for a while, you two just stay there, in bed, wrapped in each other in a way you can’t know where he starts and where you end. the thought of being one with you makes him happy, but that’s just another item in his long list of things he would never admit.

your sweet voice breaks the silence.

“we’re gonna be in bed all day?” there’s nothing but pure curiosity in your voice. no judgment — you never judge him, despite the way he deserves it sometimes. the thought makes his chest tighten with the amount of love he has harbored just for you.

sometimes he thinks he’s too small for it, and he’s scared all this love will overflow and consume him whole. though, it’s even scarier to think he wouldn’t mind: sae is yours. you can have all that he has and all that he is.

“just a little longer,” he whispers, a little more vulnerable than he would like. but it’s okay. it’s always okay when it’s you. “please?”

you hum in agreement, continuing to caress his hair.

“of course. whatever the birthday boy wants.”

sae allows himself to close his eyes and bask in your warmth, on the safety that you so effortlessly gave him. by smelling your perfume, he’s filled with gratitude for all the times he wondered what it was like to be loved by you.

“happy birthday, love.”

he’s glad he doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

1K notes · View notes

idyllcy · 8 months

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and baby, if you knew

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of the night before (?), morning after, hickies (?)

summary: oh the horrors of getting caught the morning after (pt2 of saying we're just friends)

You stare at yourself in the mirror, blinking incredulously. (Partially out of pure shock, partially because sleeping with your contacts on was NOT a smart decision on your end)

Holy fuck, Tim got mouthy with you.

You tilt your neck to brush your fingers over the hickeys, gawking at the way it trails down your neck and collar to your chest, the purple popping on your skin. Sure, you weren't half as pale as Tim was, but hello? You didn't even bring concealer. You weren't expecting him to take you to the Wayne Manor.

"Tim." You swallow, grimacing.

Tim raises a brow, shirt pulled halfway over his head.

"How many hickeys did you give me? Do you have a whisk? Do you have ice? Are you secretly a vampire???"

"One question at a time, lovely." he mumbles. "Seven. There's a whisk and ice downstairs. I am not secretly a vampire, although I can see why you'd guess that."

You blink at him. "Do you have a collared shirt?"

"Just settle for one of my shirts for now." He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing you the other one in the bed.

"Please tell me it's not sheer."

"It's not."

"Thank GOD you're rich." You mumble. "It's a blessing to have non-sheer white shirts."

"Yeah, I get that." He mumbles. "Come on. Alfred called us for breakfast a little ago."

"Which one of your siblings are here?"

"We'll see." Tim hums, shutting the door to his room. (All of them are downstairs, likely. They were probably having a post-valentine debriefing like they usually do. Bruce was not spared from it.)

You duck behind Tim when you notice everyone having breakfast.

"You said we'll see! Are none of them staying with the people they were out with last night?!"

"It happens every year." Tim hums, holding his hand out for you. "Come on. Don't do the walk of shame."

"Seriously. I run a stan account for you and live in my dorm. I'm practically a hermit." You deadpan. "I am NOT cut out to be meeting your family this early in the morning."

"Master Tim, young miss. Are you ready for breakfast? We are having pancakes."

"Just kidding I would kill for pancakes right now." You mumble, following behind Tim as he sits you next to him.

All eyes are on you as you adjust the collar of your shirt, the tag scratching against your skin, the hickeys on your neck visible. You thank Alfred as he places a plate before you, and you start at the chocolate chip pancakes. Holy shit, fuck the eyes on you, this was heaven.

"Alfred, do you have a recipe book?" You blink at him, eyes wide in admiration.

"Which recipe would you like, young miss?"

"Oh, all of them if possible. I'd love to be able to cook half as well as you can." You hum, taking another bite of your food. "Do you have a digital copy?"

"Unfortunately, all of it is on paper or in here." He smiles, tapping his brain. "But I am more than willing to provide you with any recipes you may like."

"Mm!" You shove the last piece of the pancake into your mouth, swallowing as you get up. "Tim, do you have a laptop? I want to type a couple recipes down and transcribe what's on paper—"

"Pull open the drawer to your left." He hums.

You pull it open, blinking at him.

"There's a false bottom in it. One of my spare laptops is in it. The password is a combination of letters." He hums.

"With significance?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then I know an approximation, then." You hum, working your finger into the side as you prop it open, pulling his laptop out. "Is it our birthdays?"

"Wait, how did she–" Dick's cut off when you manage to open it on your first try.

"Alright. I'm gonna go! I'll be with Alfred if you need anything." You smile.

"She just?" Duke blinks incredulously. "Did she just hack open your laptop on her first try? Is she in compsci like you?"

"English." Tim grabs a couple pancakes, cutting off a piece of butter. "Creative writing, technically."

"Oh, is she making her own major?"

"Yes." Tim hums. "I don't actually know how she guessed that it would be our birthdays since I only changed it a little while ago. It'd be easier to open if it was just our birthdays combined. Maybe she was stalking me."

"Or, maybe all the years of running a Robin Twitter account finally paid off." Jason shrugs. "She's quite a big writer on the internet too, you know?"

"Yeah." Tim hums. "She's quite the character. Have you read her works?"

"I have." Damian speaks up. "Her writing resembles poetry, pulling on the strings of your heart and snapping them at moments you least expect."

"You've read her works?!" Tim raises a brow at Damian. "That's surprising."

"She resembles the poets."

"She'd love to hear that come out of your mouth for sure." Tim mumbles. "Anything else I should know?"

"She covered me for change once while I went to buy cup noodles." Cass mumbles.

"I'm mutuals with her on Twitter?" Steph points.

"Okay, that's not the point. Timmy." Dick deadpans. "Did you sleep with her last night?"

"Sex or just plain sleeping? Because we did both—"

"I DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THE SHOVEL TALK!" Dick cries. "Okay, when a man and a—"

"Dick, I'm well over into the ages of a legal adult." Tim sighs. "Besides, I'm like seventy percent sure that you gave me the shovel talk when you first found out I was dating Ari in high school. Also, I got one from my dad and Bruce, so I think I'm good."

"Oh, right." Dick mumbles. "But still."

Steph pauses. "Does she want a whisk?"

"She was asking for one earlier." Tim hums.

"We'll go help." Cass mumbles, getting out of the seat, dragging Steph.

"Okay, Tim. Is she the one who was making you all red and blushy during Christmas?" Dick slides closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Yes." Tim sighs, batting Dick's hand away. "She was."

"How'd you ask her out?"

"Told her if she had nothing to do on Valentine's, then she could stick with me and I could plan a date." Tim reaches for another pancake.

"And she agreed?" Jason snorts. "Wow. She's way out of your league."

"Yeah, but at least I got B's absolutely insane ability to pull." He mumbles. "Pulled way out of my league, for sure."

"If you fumble her I fear the things that will happen to you, Drake." Damian clicks his tongue.

"Do I... know her?"

"Duke," Damian sighs. "You're smarter than this."

"He's messing with you right now." Jason pours himself another cup of coffee.

"What's your relationship with her." Tim deadpans.

"She used to peer review my poems." He hums. "It didn't click until Damian showed me her information this morning, though."

"You just let them go through my girlfriend's personal information?!" Tim finally looks at Bruce, who only gives him a shrug.

"No harm in knowing a little more about your girlfriend."

"I swear, if you bring her in on the vigilantism—"

"That's not happening. I can promise that." Bruce glances at his almost empty mug. "Does she know?"

"She called me out for being Red Robin last night in the car." Tim sighs. "Besides, it'd be strange if she didn't notice immediately how similar Red Robin and I's voices are."

"She's been running your account for how long... now?" Bruce motions for Jason to pass him the coffee.

"Since middle school, so like..." Tim pauses. "Give or take seven years."

"That's a long time." Dick mumbles. "My longest-running fanpage is only six-ish years."

"If you count the Gotham Gazette, then I've been running for the longest." Bruce snorts. "Is she the one?"

"I think she is." Tim smiles. "And if she's not..."

"Then I will personally see the end of your life, Drake." Damian grumbles. "I shall have mother adopt her and have her write poetry for me in exchange for a living space and food. She shall be the equivalent of a court poet except to mother and I."

"I honestly think she wouldn't turn that down." Tim grimaces.

"Is she that desperate?"

"She's joked about sleeping with a millionaire to make some money." Tim grimaces. "Something something desperate situations call for desperate measures."

"She would love it in mother's mansion, then." Damian hums, sipping on his tea. "I shall have her write a poem for your death. It shall be my last mercy."

Tim grimaces. "What if she breaks up with me?"

"Then you're in the fault, obviously." Jason mumbles, looking at his phone.

"So it's my fault regardless of what happens?"

"Listen, her tweets are unhinged. You can't say you like crazy girls and then get annoyed when you date one and she acts insane." Jason grumbles.

"He's got a point, Timmers." Dick hums. "I hope it works out for the best, regardless of the ending."

"Twenty bucks they are endgame." Damian mumbles.

"Alfred bet ten that Tim would pop the ring."

"Ugh, come on. You know no one out-bets Alfred." Dick groans. "Did he set up the jar?"

"He did. This morning." Duke hums. "I put my bet in too."

"Come on–"

"You can't say shit when you bet on all of our relationships and pretty much came out unscathed in all of them." Jason glares. "Shut it."

Tim rolls his eyes, surrendering himself to the idea that his relationship would get bet on.

"Tim, can I marry your sisters?" You come out of the kitchen, eyes sparkling.

"We're dating." He sighs. "Pretty bird—"

"EWWWWWWW" A mixture of faked hurls and gags are heard in unison as Tim rolls his eyes.

"Ignore them. Why do you want my sisters?"

"The hickeys are all," You pull your shirt down too to show your cleavage, the hickeys no longer visible, "gone! Your sisters are really good at this."

"Yeah..." Tim sighs, reaching to pull your shirt back up. "Steph isn't my sister, by the way."

"Oh, yes, I know." You smile. "After all, if she was, it'd be strange that you've dated her before."

Tim chokes on the air at your statement.

"Besides, she's my mutual." You hum. "I also got Alfred's recipes, by the way." You hum, smile on your face. "I also got his chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I need to figure out what the secret ingredient is."

"A dash of vanilla extract." Tim lowers his voice. "Don't tell the rest of the family."

"Got it." You give him a thumbs up.

"Do you cook?" Damian speaks up.

"I do! Mainly ethnic foods, since there isn't much of that here in Gotham." You mumble. "Got any good Chinese places?"

"Oh, there's this place on Seventh Ave and Jester." Bruce speaks up. "I used to get dim sum there. It's only open from eight to twelve, and you need to get in via reservation. Feel free to borrow my name whenever. Just make sure to invite me."

"Uncle Dan's, right?" You beam. "I went there a while back with another friend, but I miss like... the dim sum that's messy and chaotic in the morning."

"Oh, then try the one on Lightbeam." Dick pauses. "Ah, what was the other street?"

"Oh, that one's good." Duke agrees. "Sam Woo's Dim Sum and BBQ."

"I've had that too!" You smile. "They're good, just quite a while from the university."

"If you really want something good," Cass speaks up from behind you, "try Jin."

"Jin?"

"It's smaller, but it's family-run, and it's been doing business in Gotham for three generations already." Cass hums. "They're called Jin, but the Chinese character for gold. They're right by Gotham U too. On the corner by Circle K."

"The sketchy looking alley??" You blink.

"Yes, but their dumplings are to die for." She pauses. "And they sell in bulk if you want to boil any in your dorm."

"Tim, I want your sister."

"Pretty bird, we just started going out." He clicks his tongue.

"Tim, if you break her heart, I will date her." Cass blinks.

"You can visit her when she stays in mother's mansion."

"Hm?" You turn to blink at Damian.

"Ignore him—"

"Should you and Drake break up, I have already arranged your living arrangements, should you agree to it."

"And what might they be?" You hand the laptop to Tim, pointing at the document you shared with yourself.

"With my mother. Your only job shall be to write poems and short stories to entertain her."

"Living and writing for the Talia Al Ghul? Count me in." You sigh dreamily.

"Alright." Tim shuts the laptop after changing the password. "We're going to get going before her roommate calls the cops on her."

"Oh, right!" You mumble. "It was a pleasure meeting you all! I hope to see you again sometime?"

"Tim, send her number in the chat later!" Dick calls as Tim pulls you out.

"Sorry, they're quite embarrassing." Tim mumbles.

"They're warm." You smile. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Tim sighs in relief at the look of fondness on your face. Right.

You'll be fine.

#1: I wrote this in a frenzy in like 3 ish hours?#2: i've been awake for 20 hours at this point. yay.#someone needs to put me into like a medically induced coma so I can sleep properly or smth #ok anyways #THIS ONE'S FOR YOU ANON!!!#Tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake imagine #red robin imagine #ugh I'm pushign everything in the queue back for this ughhhHHHHHHHH nvm I'm queuing this gn I'll see u when this posts on uhhh idk #☾.fics #☾.pretty bird

318 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 2 years

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

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

word count: 10.2K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs, "Felt like it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart races, "Okay."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x readder #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #dom steve harrington #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things au #steve harrington au #steve harrington x thick!reader

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k0droid · 8 months

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HE'S THE TYPE – FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

It's the little things he does as your boyfriend <3

a/n: HOLY SHIT i have not posted in SO long. My bad 💀 I just didn't expect 10th grade to give me so much work. I just took my 3rd PSAT dude 😭

warnings!: fluff, you and megumi are dating, headcanons (i did not write too much), i use the phrase "he's the type" a lot

I was inspired by many different sources: premade headcanons, real-life experiences, and personal thoughts. (@takis4aki, @lyra_inumaki, and @upperkaceart on tiktok)

HE’S THE TYPE to adopt pets with you. He’s a dog person.

HE’S THE TYPE to inch his hand closer to yours, in fear he might come off as too forward.

HE’S THE TYPE to understand whatever emotion you try to convey. He hangs out with Inumaki, what do you expect?

HE’S THE TYPE to tell say you smell good.

HE’S THE TYPE to secretly enjoy those weird posts you tag him in.

HE’S THE TYPE to send you messages in the form of alpha wolf memes.

“ BABE HOW DO I USE THE OVEN 🐺 ”

HE’S THE TYPE to wait for you at lunch. He won’t sit down until he sees you.

HE’S THE TYPE to be shy. Adorably shy. ‘Hiding his face in your neck’ shy.

HE’S THE TYPE to share his ice cream with you.

HE’S THE TYPE to whisper “I love you” while you sleep.

HE’S THE TYPE to call just to hear your voice.

HE’S THE TYPE to think of you all the time. You’ll never leave his mind.

HE’S THE TYPE to put his head on your shoulder.

HE’S THE TYPE to introduce you to new games. (Cough cough Forgotten Hill)

HE’S THE TYPE to not know how to comfort people, but he tries his best.

HE’S THE TYPE to imitate your favorite characters when you’re down.

HE’S THE TYPE to be invested in your gossip.

“ And then she tells me she might be pregnant. ”

“ ...No fucking way. ”

HE’S THE TYPE to babysit. (I don’t know why, but) I can see a lot of adults trusting him with their children.

HE’S THE TYPE to watch those My Story Animated videos 😭

HE’S THE TYPE to talk about his dorky interests. He’s such a Spiderman & Minecraft fan!!

HE’S THE TYPE to love all of you.

a/n: ok wow that was not my best work but i suddenly got bit by the creativity man (as my mom says) and wrote this.

-- My best friend and I always get lunch together. If she gets her lunch faster than me, she'll wait outside the lunch line until I appear and then we walk to our table together and I just really love her for that. it's the small things!

-- one of my ex-friends let a (grown) guy hit IN THE FOREST AT NIGHT WITHOUT PROTECTION. and then she told me that she might be pregnant and I was like 😶

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

All works belong to @prettygyalpluto. Do not plagiarize or repost without permission.

#prettygyalpluto #jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi x black reader #jjk fluff #fushiguro x reader

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forbidden-sunlight · 2 years

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Pink Venom

yandere! Calix Rochester x Loure!reader headcanons [I’m a villainess but I became a mother]

warning: spoilers from the manhwa, obsessive behavior, implied sexual references and implied references to k-pop music. Please take caution.

Note: this is a work of fiction with the intention of entertainment purposes only. The behavior exhibited here is inappropriate and unhealthy, hence it should not be encouraged. Special thanks to @soleilician and @d10nsaint for their feedback during the drafting phase.

So without further ado, let the show begin! :)

Calix Rochester. Everyone in the Eclair mansion had assumed that it was a matter of fact that you knew the name of your fiance because the engagement had already been announced, hence why you cried upon first meeting him. But that was not the truth at all. Quote the opposite.

The only reason you knew the identity of this young boy is because who wouldn’t recognize the male lead of a shitty romance novel you read in your past life? Definitely not you, who had bought the book series with your hard-earned money in another life at a friend’s passionate recommendation before it all came to an abrupt end thanks to a speeding truck at an intersection on a rainy afternoon. If you were given the choice, however, you’d do it all over again. You couldn’t have lived with yourself if that little kid had gotten hit instead of you.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand: the boy you were now engaged to. In the future, Calix Rochester would inherit his family’s duchy and rise to become a prominent figure in the Empire. He was arranged to be married to Loure Eclair, share one passionate night with her and then dump her for the saintly female lead.

To sum it up, he was scum. A piece of trash who did not care about his fiancee and divorced Loure so he could deepen his relationship with the woman who had stolen his heart. Uh-huh. Right.

He might not have cared for Loure, but damn it all, this was your new identity. The villainess in a novel that had so much potential before it recycled so many old tropes and cliches in the last two books that it had made your head spin. Hell, even you could have written better fanfiction than this garbage!

Yes, you were a fandom writer and proud of it. Shush.

Now fully aware of the fate that lied ahead of you, there is no way that you would allow yourself to become enthralled with Calix if he was just going to dump your sorry ass once the female lead arrived. That’s a recipe for heartbreak and unnecessary drama, which you really didn't need again in this lifetime, thank you very much!

Plus, in this world there were young women who would secretly write sensual novels for money and even attend masked soirees to recite the aforementioned tales in front of an all-ladies audience. Do you hear money or did you hear the crowd asking for an encore? Heck yes.

You had a plan. Now all you needed to do was dive head first into the well of creativity and start zero drafting some ideas. There is the saying that nothing is ever original in art, but you would not stoop so low as to steal the stories from your own world and publish them here under your name.

Plagiarism is plagiarism no matter what the isekai manga have said or did. And it was about time for you to step out of your comfort zone for the sake of your own survival. You’d figure it all out as you went along.

Still…what could you do about Calix? As much as you wanted to stay as far away from him as possible, he is your fiancee now. But isn’t there a saying in your old world, to kill someone with kindness?

As much as you wanted to not marry him and avoid being burnt at the stake for trying to kill the female lead, this was a political arrangement between your respective families. You could not simply beg your father to call off the engagement unless there is enough evidence to appeal to the emperor that the Rochester’s heir was an unfit match for the Eclair’s only daughter. The love affair between the main characters would not happen until after you turned eighteen. Twelve years from now.

There was no choice but to go along with it. Shutting his invitation for outings would only make him more persistent.

So you will have to play along; be cordial, be pleasant, and all that jazz. Furthermore…you’ll have to open with Calix. Letting yourself be vulnerable around someone who would cast you aside in the near future….it sucks. But you were not going to experience the misunderstanding troupe, thank you very much. Communication, in any relationship, is crucial.

You were going to be honest with the male lead, even if it might kill you in the end.

Time flew by quickly. Lessons in the morning, tea in the afternoon, and writing manuscripts until late at night for your maid to secretly spirit them to the publishing house you worked for under the pseudonym Black Rabbit. It was a comfortable cycle, and you were delighted to see your hard work being paid in gold coins with an occasional participation at a literary soiree.

Of course, you spent some time with Calix, watching a performance at the opera house or dining out at a fancy restaurant. He was a courteous gentleman in public, appearing as a man who adored his fiancee very much. And that is what is bothering you.

In accordance with the original storyline, he never once shared any concern towards Loure Eclair. She had been his fiancee in name, nothing more. He minded his own business until the female lead arrived and turned his dull, gray world into a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. And yes, that is a direct, gag-worthy quote from the novel. However, in this timeline, he showed concern.

He smiled at you, laughed, cheeks flushed a bright pink or red. He was the sweetest man in your presence. And that bothered you a lot. It shouldn’t have, in fact, you should have felt relieved that your actions had changed the course of the novel for the better.

So why was your gut telling you that this was all an act? A mask he wore to keep you close until he would cast you aside for the female lead? You didn’t like it. Not one damned bit.

It looked like you were going to have another talk with him, again. You already asked him to be honest. Pleaded to speak his mind. Get angry with you, damn it, don’t just smile!

Why does he keep acting like this, as if he were afraid of you? It’s supposed to be the other way around, you being afraid of being abandoned by him? You already voiced your concerns about it, how many more times do you have to repeat yourself?!

So, you sat down with him and talked about it. A heart-to-heart conversation that ended with a promise to do better. Although it went better than you initially thought…why did it seem like the novel’s plot was about to deviate even further?

From the moment he met the pink-haired girl known as Loure Eclair on a sunny afternoon, Calix’s initial thought had been the following: she was adorable. Even when she cried out to the servant that she did not want to marry him, being betrothed to her had made him incredibly happy.

At first, she kept her distance from him. But then, slowly, very slowly, she began to open up. She told him what she liked, what she disliked, and some of her hobbies. She had even gotten feisty on occasion, growling in annoyance like a puppy baring its fangs.

So cute. He thought. Every expression she wore was absolutely charming. She seemed more real to him than the image of an ethereal fairy princess waiting to be swept off of her feet by a knight in shining armor.

He cherished these small moments when Loure opened herself up to him as much as he cherished the time that they spent together. As the heir to his father’s duchy, Calix could not go out very often with his fiancee and spoil her, much to his annoyance.

But Loure understood. She reminded him to take care of himself and not work too hard, occasionally sending over some sweets from a famous bakery to cheer him up. He still kept the ribbons of those pastry boxes in his desk.

When he wasn’t by her side, his servants kept an eye on her. Imagine his surprise when he discovered that she was a writer. Not just any writer, but the infamous Black Rabbit herself! The harlequin whose words enraptured the hearts of young maidens and books flew off the shelves as soon as they were available.

Calix did not spare any expense in purchasing all of Loure’s books. They were not just for his own amusement; he read them as well, devouring one novel after another. His beloved was incredibly talented, there was no doubt about it…but why put in so much effort when they were to be married soon? Once she becomes his wife, she will have enough money to be comfortable for three generations even after shopping in the capital’s shops.

When he asked her one evening after attending a piano recital, she flinched. Flinched, in his presence, when he would never dare to harm a single hair on her head. He did not like that at all. But he sat in silence, hearing their carriage rattle beneath the cobblestoned streets before she made an unlikely confession.

Yes, she enjoyed writing novels…but it was also a failsafe. A nest egg in case something happened to her father’s estate…or their engagement. She was afraid of being abandoned with nowhere to go. That was the truth.

Why? He thought. Why would she even think of such a thing, when all she had ever done is shown him kindness? It was unbelievable. And yet…the confession made him so happy. Elated he had discovered another secret of hers, building up the trust between them. It made her even more desirable to him.

Ah, he wanted them to be married soon. He wanted to wake up every morning by her side, seeing things that he would never let another man see.

No, no. He cannot think like that. Loure had made it clear to him that she was not interested in another man. That was one of their many conversations that they had when he got jealous of someone being near his woman.

He had nothing to worry about. Yes, there were men she had to meet, investors and representatives from the publishing house. But that’s all there was to it. Just business.

Hmm…perhaps he could purchase a failing business and turn it into a publishing house under his name? It wasn’t a bad idea. He’ll ask her when she comes to visit him for tea.

First, he needed to have a small chat with the crowned prince. That brute believed because he was the heir to the throne that he was entitled to take any woman as he pleased, including his Loure.

She belonged to him, as his heart and soul belonged to her. He had been infected with the sweet pink venom known as ‘love’.

A love so brutal that he would not allow anyone to touch his beloved. Royalty or not.

#yandere manhwa x reader #yandere #x reader #i'm a villainess but i became a mother #calix rochester #yandere male #ns.fw #headcanons #forbidden-sunlight #acuriousmoon

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uchihaharlot · 5 months

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I didn't mean to break their hearts, I was just curious, srry!😭😭 (but Itachi's one was kinda funny-)

But anyway, now I'm wondering about how they would react if they found out that you can draw really cool and beautiful.

(I'm an artist, so😎)

Nonny 🥹🥹

That put me in an really good mood; lol. That was way too fun to write; maybe I can one day write a super angsty break up (but I love them too much!!!).

I love all artists 😭😭😭 Painters, writers — digital or paper. Anything that expresses the inner workings of someone’s mind and the fact that they can manifest it to reality is so so so beautiful. I hope I’ve secretly seen your art, I’d probably simp over it. Always simp over art. 😂😂🥹🥹

N/SFW; very cute Uchiha men adoring your artwork! 🥹🥹🥹 (ooc Madara??); Simpy Obito; …Scandalous Shisui; abnormally observant Itachi 😂 suggestive themes rolled out the further I got. For some reason, I just had to. (P.s. I should not be allowed to write when tired??? Half of this was done while my eyes rolled shut in bed).

Madara:

It’s not everyday that Madara is blown like a leaf in the wind. When you mentioned being a patron of the arts, he thought maybe the art of battle?? Didn’t expect your weapon to be a paint brush with some acrylic paint. Thought it was some weird jutsu infused shit.

And then you just had to go above and beyond and do a portrait of him for his birthday!!!!! It’s hung on the living room center wall so that it’s the first thing anyone sees! Honestly, this man is a brute, but your art envokes his softer side! A side that he hasn’t been in touch with for…well, a long time.

Makes sure that everyone and I mean, everyone, is aware of your talent! Still, he tries to find the side hussle in it, soliciting customers for you and all. 😭😭 Will trash talk the chalk art children make on the sidewalk, which ‘…that’s not nice, they’re children..’ you say. He shrugs, nobody is as good as you.

Obito:

Finds out and tries to ‘secretly’ commission you lmao. Makes it totally obvious too, his handwriting is shit and eveeeerrryyyyone knows who Tobi really is…. Plus how can you even begin without discussing what he wants done!! Duh, Obito! Unfortunately for him, you are more interested in drawing matters of the flesh. He’ll only show his chest, nothing more.

‘That’s fine.’ You shrug, and get to work. Obito, however, does not have the resolve to sit still! It’s frustrating to no end, but alas, after what seems an eternity— its done. Sort of. Still much to add, but the basics are there and you’ll work better when he’s not asking how does it look every twenty minutes.

Eventually you do finish this beautiful piece of him, and Obito cries. You made his scars tolerable and beautiful with your mind’s creativity, he feels less self conscious about them, only a little.

Shisui:

Is the least normal about it when he discovered your sketchbook — more like snatched and played keep away. Had to fight him for it, literally. Will ask you to paint/draw him naked…many times lol and you respectfully say no... Not that he likes people to see him naked (ok maybe a little?) but he secretly hopes it might happen one day. It would be a private thing for the two of you, cause he wants that ass.

And when you do cave to his whim, just to satiate him. He’s nervous lmao. Had this oh so macho man idea of rocking a hard on but Shisui simply maintains his usual semi. It’s nice though, you make sure it’s extremely detailed..as he asked for.

But, ‘(y/n)… this is chibbi!!!’ Lol, jokes on Shisui!! He didn’t say how to draw his pp.

Itachi:

Is the most normal about it. Though he still will praise you every time you finish a piece and show him, he is still massively impressed. How does your wrist not get tired? …maybe this is why your hand jobs are so good. 😈 Just watching you try a new technique (pointillism, which is my favorite style) makes his wrist hurt. Enjoys when you ask him for ideas! He has lots of them! Mostly…obscure and derelict landscapes though.

Would not be opposed to having his portrait done, but it’s really not his style. He is disciplined enough to sit still but doesn’t see the value in it. Not until the final product is revealed, does he truly understand how important this piece was. You’ve captured his personality in a new light.

#madara headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui headcanons #itachi headcanons #madara x reader #obito x reader #shisui x reader #itachi x reader #madara uchiha #obito uchiha #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #uchiha clan #uchiha family #uchiha headcanons

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irelandking · 11 months

Text

avenger/agent reader fic recs

bucky barnes x reader

❤️ = fluff 😔 = angst 🔥 = smut

one shots:

devotion - @avecra

When a mission with Sam goes wrong, and you’re left bruised and battered, Bucky is there to piece you back together. ❤️😔

teach me - @buckyalpine

bucky x inexperienced reader, Prompt: 7. Sleep princess, you need it 🔥

lessons in love - @violentdelightsandviolentends

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you. ❤️

the last first kiss - @witchywithwhiskey

you and bucky barnes have gotten close while on a month-long SHIELD mission together, but when natasha romanoff starts asking bucky about his relationship with you, you overhear something that makes you think your feelings are entirely one-sided. ❤️😔

scary movie - @moonbeambucky

The Avengers spend their night off watching a scary movie. ❤️

fallin' for you - @moonbeambucky

The Avengers spend their day off at a farm near the compound where the leafs aren’t the only things that have fallen ❤️😔

lucky - @moonbeambucky

Bucky Barnes was not a lucky man but after meeting you will his luck change? ❤️😔

eyes - @samingtonwilson

Bucky can’t make eye contact very much anymore even with the girl he loves because he’s scared of what he’ll see, or really of what he might not see. (prompt “Please just look at me while I confess, after that you can look anywhere you like, I swear.” is bolded in story) ❤️

mission report: laundry day - @buckysmischief

You and Bucky have been secretly dating for over a year, what will it finally take for the others to find out? ❤️

a wish for 100 - @viollettes

Midnight strikes, officially marking Bucky’s 100th birthday. You surprise the super-soldier with a small treat and a gift that has potential to change everything. ❤️

a thief in the night - @redgillan

A Buck imagine where you both have a secret affair at the tower and one time you’re over at his apartment and you spend another night together. After you cuddle afterwards, you get up to leave but Bucky grabs you and pulls you back into him, begging you to stay cause he dont want it to be a secret anymore. You stay and get official then :) Also with a smutty part hihi :) Requested by Anonymous. ❤️🔥

always more of a hot chocolate person - @ijustreallylovezebras

At meetings with the rest of the Avengers tea and coffee is always offered around but the reader always says no ❤️

a bid on bucky - @samingtonwilson

You spend thousands of dollars at a bachelor auction for Bucky when you could’ve had him for free this entire time. ❤️

repairs - @samingtonwilson

In love with the robotics expert in charge of repairing his arm, Bucky’s explanations for malfunctions get more and more creative. - requested by @elaine-spades ❤️

get to know you - @notimetoblog

A Secret Santa gift exchange brings two unsuspecting Avengers closer. ❤️

the pain you feel - @meek-boy-rogers

Y/N can feel the pain Bucky is enduring, and vice versa. She feels the immense pain, he feels the soft touch of her fingers along his arm after particularly painful days. (Soulmate AU the two can feel pain, touches, etc.) ❤️😔

out the window - @meek-boy-rogers

Y/N is set on befriending Bucky Barnes. She is set on making him as comfortable as possible in the Avengers Tower. She wants him to trust more people. ❤️

why is she wearing my hoodie? - @writing-soldiers

Bucky tries to figure out the reason behind his missing hoodie one day, relishing in the idea that might be a win-win situation for both of you.. but what might that lead to? ❤️

this means war - @moonbeambucky

Pranking the Avengers was all fun and games but when Bucky snaps you wonder if you’ve gone too far. ❤️😔

a harmless crush - @omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts

Assigned to the Winter Soldier by S.H.I.E.L.D to help him to accommodate to society, staying in the Avenger’s tower, and occasionally doing paperwork for STARK industries, you’ve grown close to James Buchanan Barnes, developing a crush on him in the process. So when you, reluctantly, tag along to a baseball game with the Avengers, and the kiss cam lands on you and Bucky, things get interesting. ❤️

the date - @softlyspector

Bucky is a nervous wreck that asks the reader on a date. It goes differently and better than expected. Anxious!Bucky. ❤️

healing and healed - @softlyspector

Y/N is always healing Bucky, no matter how small the injury. Based on this ask. ❤️

music - @softlyspector

Bucky doesn’t really understand ‘modern’ music. The reader is there to help ❤️

tease - @beckzorz

A fake date with a Danish alien tech dealer. Bucky gets bored, and maybe a little jealous, while he’s waiting in the command truck outside. It’s all downhill from there. 🔥

you're teasing me - @the-bau-quinjet

Sam offers to help you when Bucky refuses to duet with you on karaoke night. ❤️

my name isn't - @the-bau-quinjet

You find out the guys (Bucky, Steve, and Sam) have a bet as to who can kiss you first, so you confront them at Tony’s team building karaoke night. ❤️

i can do more - @the-bau-quinjet

The team underestimates Y/N’s strength until one day when her powers save them all ❤️

distraction - @itsapeterthing

request: “bucky x reader where reader is really attracted to bucky’s fighting side while he’s defeating the bad guys?” ❤️😔

made to fit - @abovethesmokestacks

reader knits bucky a sweater ❤️

seven minutes in heaven - @lokidoki-imagines

There was no prompt for this one, but I just needed to write a bit of Bucky loving and this kinda just came out…Sorry not sorry for the straight up filth! Just remember to wrap it before you tap it kids 🔥

imagine being in a secret relationship with bucky - @yeahbutimagine

Combining @crayonbreaker ’s request with an other one I got. The prompts were n°32 (you know what’s the best part about not wearing makeup/ you can rub your eyes whenever you want) and the 2nd rq by @anahi0101 wanted a fluffy fic where the reader and Buck have been secretly dating and the team finds out. ❤️

drunk in love @bethdutten

you get a little drunk at one of tony’s celebratory after-mission parties. and bucky is there looking so fine and-- fuck it. you can’t keep your hands off him ❤️🔥😔

one of the guys - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

you play get down mr. president with the boys and get hurt ❤️😔

number one fan - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

you prank bucky by wearing falcon merch ❤️

keep warm - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

you and bucky after a mission in a safe house sharing a bed ❤️

drunk words are sober truths - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

bucky gets drunk off asgardian mead and confesses his feelings ❤️

concussed - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

“Hello! I’m an absolute wh0re for hurt/comfort and wanted to request if you could pleeeeaase write reader really sick with a concussion + soft caretaker Buck?” ❤️

be my sidekick - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

you and bucky go and see movies together and get together ❤️

how's your head? - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

you get harassed on the subway and bucky helps take care of you ❤️

seeing red - @buckysfaveplum

bucky can’t just sit and watch as a man makes you uncomfortable in a bar ❤️

more than safe - @witchywithwhiskey

when you're injured on a mission in sokovia, bucky barnes comes to help—and you share a soft moment together ❤️😔

make believe on christmas eve - @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over. ❤️

drive? - @softlyspector

Bucky asks the reader on a date to which she readily agrees. Or, Bucky’s attempt at a car make out. ❤️

i love you - @ugh-supersoldiers

‘I love you’ isn’t a phrase you expect to hear from Bucky Barnes anytime soon, so when those three daunting words slip from your lips on a romantic getaway around Christmastime, your certain he won’t respond well, but he proves you very wrong… ❤️🔥

trapped - @notyetneedcoffee

Reader is trapped on a mission with Bucky. Sex pollen story.🔥

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff

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calaisreno · 3 months

Text

Those Who Can't

I've always loved writing, but for a long time thought it was pretentious to call myself a writer. What if someone asked to see what I'm writing? What if they didn't like it? That would make me a terrible writer, I thought, one of those people who go around thinking they're great while everyone is secretly laughing at them.

But I walk in the park every day, and I see people who walk there, too. We're all walkers, even the guy who brings his oxygen tank with him every day, even the woman who sits down to smoke a cigarette before she finishes her walk. The young parents pushing strollers, the women in hijab, the elderly lady who has her hair "done" each week and wears jewellery while she does her doctor-prescribed exercise, the people who are overweight or all lean muscle and bone, the people looking for Pokemon, the business suits walking during their lunch hour. All walking, all walkers.

If you walk, you're a walker. If you write, you're a writer.

It's said that those who can't do something become teachers. As a teacher, I resent the implication that we have all failed at something and now pretend to instruct others how not to fail. But it's true in the sense that we are all learners, never finished learning, and no one knows this better than a teacher. Every day I learn just how much I don't know.

Years ago I was walking down the hall of my school, heading for the copy machine, three minutes from the next bell, and an administrator stopped me.

"Would you like to teach creative writing?" she asked. "We need more elective courses next year."

At the time I was teaching three Latin classes and two freshman English classes. Did I really need another prep?

Could I even do this? Why me? What made me more qualified than the other people in my department? How would I teach it? What would the course description say? Who would take the class?

"Yes," I said.

When I started teaching it in the fall, I didn't have answers to all my questions, but I had a plan. The most frustrating thing, I learned, was teaching people who hadn't signed up for it, and just needed a course to fill a hole in their schedule. I thought writing was easy-- and fun! We could all have a good time here, because it was just about self-growth and imagination.

I learned was that I was not the expert. My students might be terrible writers, might hate every moment of journaling and writing exercises and prompts, but they had ideas, too. They were just too used to thinking their ideas were shit, that creativity wasn't worth anything, that the things that mattered were the things that could get them a good job.

My job, it turns out, was coaxing them to open up and explore ideas, to think divergently, to regard storytelling as more than entertainment. Stories matter; how we tell them makes a difference. I was not an expert. I read a lot and wrote stories for fun. And I became my first pupil.

Nearly everything I learned about writing, I got from teaching it. And I haven't yet reached the point where I felt entitled to call myself a writer. I still sort of cringe when I confess to someone that I write. But I keep writing.

"No writing is a waste of time – no creative work where the feelings, the imagination, the intelligence must work. With every sentence you write, you have learned something. It has done you good. Don't always be appraising yourself, wondering if you are better or worse than other writers." -- Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write

#on writing

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xhfics · 2 months

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bee you spoiled me with such genius thought for preppy!jiseok and to return the favour i’m coming in with preppy!jungsu - cause i’m sure that’s what the ppl need 😌

what about preppy!jungsu who’s a casual friend of yours cause you go to the same elite university and you share a few classes, but what really bonds you is that you secretly meet after lectures cause you do each other’s assignments. he sucks at this one class that you’re good at, and you need higher grades at a class that happens to be his strong suit. so you made the deal to help each other out by doing each other’s work, but… when will you have a little fun? jungsu thinks that for once you should loosen up and think about something else instead of studying…

i’m thinking slightly suggestive and lots of playful flirting? 👀 love you 🫶🏼

He sits right behind you in Astronomy class, which he sucks at. And you sit beside him in Creative Writing, which you suck at.

It didn't take long before the two of you noticed the other's potential in the class you weren't good at; so the deal was done quickly.

Every Wednesday evening, you met up at the library. It was located in the center of the private university the two of you attended. It was the 'real deal'; uniforms, old buildings and dormitories and all.

"Why did you take Creative Writing if you hate it so much?" Jungsu asks, handing your assignment that he just finished back to you.

You shrug as you take the papers from him. "It sounded easy enough for the extra credit. Why did you take Astronomy?"

Jungsu loosens his uniform tie and smirks at you. "Because you're in it."

You scoff but flash him a smile. It's not the first time he's said something like this. You don't mind it though, you just wonder if he really means it.

As you take a good look at him, you can't help but think that he looks really handsome. His honey blonde hair compliments his tan skin. He's got the sleeves of his blouse rolled up and you recognize the silver bracelet he often wears. It has a charm of your favorite planet on it, but you doubt he even knows which one it is.

It's getting late, but the weather is crazy hot. You unbutton the first two buttons of your white blouse and fan your face, as you reach your other hand for your ice coffee.

Jungsu takes in everything; his eyes glance over your chest, he sees your bra peeking through the small opening of your blouse. He looks at your lips wrapped around the paper straw as you drink your beverage.

He gulps when you cross your legs and your uniform skirt hikes up your thighs.

"Eyes up here, Jungsu." You say as you see him fixated on your lower regions. You can't help but unbuttoning another button when he slowly looks up. The uniform top barely covering your bra anymore.

"You did that on purpose." He says, shamelessly looking at your hands smoothening the fabric of the blouse by your breast.

"What if I did?" You reply, slowly bending towards the table to grab your drink again. Your half open blouse now gives him a full view.

Jungsu scans his surroundings. The library is pretty much empty, the two of you sit in the far back and he weighs his options. He's one of the richest students of this school, and your family has a lot of connections here too. No one will care.

"I think we should take a break from studying and blow off some steam." He then says, patting his lap as an invitation for you to sit there.

You finish your coffee and get up to throw the cup in the bin. When you walk back, you notice the painfully obvious boner he has and you don't hesitate to take place on Jungsu's lap.

He looks down at your cleavage, seeing more of it than he's ever seen. His hands are on under your plaid skirt and on your ass, softly gripping onto your panties.

You look at his lips, how he's biting the lower one. His gaze is focused on your body, but you desperately need to kiss him.

Placing your hand under his chin, you lift it and press a firm kiss on his lips.

#xdinary heroes fanfic #xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #jungsu x reader #jungsu thoughts #dinna🦢#hope you liked it~#love you too🫶🏻

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silverbladexyz · 4 months

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HIII I JUST WANTED TO SAY I LOVED UR UNREQUITED LOVE FICS I ATE THOSE UP SO GOOD

this isnt a request btw just some food for thought but how do u think chuuya and yasuko would react if reader came back but they werent exactly. themselves yk? like they got revived but almost like a sentient doll with no memories of the past? do you think they would leave the reader alone or would they try to reconnect with the reader ? again this isnt a request im just curious because sometimes my daydreams take a sudden turn !!! :D

HIII ANON AJSSHHSH AND I LOVE YOU FOR MAKING MY DAY BETTER 🥺🥺💞

And oooh... actually, I have already been thinking about making a bonus part similiar to your idea :) I just haven't had the time and creativeness to write it recently since school is keeping me very busy😭

BUT in response to your question, I think Chuuya might initially keep his distance from the reader first. Partly because he blames himself for their death because he didn't finish his mission sooner, and also partly because he doesn't want to lose them again. It hurts him a lot, but he convinces himself that it's the best decision to make to keep reader safe. However, I can see him secretly keeping a close eye on them so that if they were in danger, he could save them this time and not make the same mistake twice (Chuuya honey it wasn't your fault ajshahs 😭)

Then after bumping into him a few times, you wonder sometimes; why does this ginger-haired man seem so achingly familiar? And why did you feel this pain in your heart whenever you looked at him? Almost as if... he was a past lover you never got to be together with. But you shrug it off; there was no way you could've known such a handsome and rich man in your life, because if you did, you'd be sure to remember him for eternity ashajhhasj

Whilst Yasuko would feel immensely guilty upon seeing you. Even as you tilt your head to innocently inquire what was wrong, she can't bring herself to articulate all the shame, sorrow, and remorse that she felt ever since the day you died. I can see her accidentally forming a sort-of friendship with your revived self, but also keeping you at an arm's length because she thinks that she doesn't deserve to even call you as her friend. Half of her wants to atone for the wrongdoings she committed against you in the past, but the other half wants her to suffer with your unawareness because it's all her fault that you were gone. However, I can totally see her trying to get you and Chuuya together in this life 👀 wingwoman Yasuko for the win

Anyways, I can see both of them keeping their distance while also trying to rekindle those pleasant memories with you. But sooner or later, you'll come to question why they treated you differently from the rest of their friends. And when you confront them about it, maybe then you'll finally learn the painful truth as it all pours out of Yasuko's lips. What you do afterwards is all up to you.

WHEWW sorry for making that kinda angsty :') but hey, at least reader has a chance with Chuuya now. Just that they'll have to break down all those walls he has formed around himself, and finally win his heart that their past self never got the chance to hold. While Yasuko, Dazai, and the PM will be wingmanning the entire way.

I hope this was able to answer your question anon! :D

#silverbladexyz #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #unrequited love fic #angsty but happy ending?#hope you guys liked this hehe #ask #lovely anon

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lackoftrumpets · 6 months

Text

The TTRPGs I played in 2023: Part 2

Near the end of November, I asked for recommendations on one page TTRPGs I should play for a event I ran. The goal was to play a TTRPG for about 40-50 minutes before swapping to something new. While I sadly didn't get around to playing all of the recommendations, I still appreciate all of the games people showed me. Reading new game is something I enjoy doing, so I still had fun even if they didn't make it to the table.

Before I go into each TTRPG individually, there was a common running theme between playing all of the games that I feel like I should say. As much as I enjoy the concept and writing one page and other extremely small TTRPGs, I will admit that playing them was a rough experience. Working with that small amount of mechanics and concepts was something me and the table were not used to and I'm not sure if these kind of games are something I will play more of later. Whenever I got excited by a mechanic is one of these games, I always felt like I wanted something more. I think these types of games are great thought experiments for game design, but I can understand why these type of games haven't gotten much traction in the mainstream (with a few exceptions). However, don't let my thoughts discourage you from writing these type of games. I still love making them because its a fun challenge to see how much content you can cram into such a small space. This was something that most of these games did fairly well, so lets move onto that. If you want to check out any of these games or their authors, I have everything linked on this post.

Rollers of the Lost Artifact by JayBlnk6

This was the starting game and it left a good first impression. In this game players are archeologists looking for special artifacts. The simple skill system was nice, but what I really loved was the inventory system. Each item size has a certain shape and you have to fit it into a 3x3 square. I always love inventory systems that force you to play a Tetris (turning a mundane thing into something fun), and this game did a good job fitting it into a smaller system. Since we were playing multiple games at once, the players didn't get to sell the artifact, but I still appreciate the rules where players get a choice on what they wish to do with it.

Rats in Space by Jay Writes

I think the title of this game explains itself. The players are rats in space looking for a special piece of cheese. The theming of this game was a lot of fun to play with. The morale system was also an interesting addition to the d6 system I've seen a lot of one page games (including my own) use. It was fun to see the players start to panic as their moral system got lower because of a large streak of bad rolls. I also really liked the d6 table for determining one last consequence when the cheese is found. The players thought they finally found it, but then realized they had one last obstacle to conquer (that being the horrible smell in the room).

Rough Beginnings by @tornioduva

This was the most unique game I played that night and despite some odd moments, I had a lot of fun with it! The players are simple group of adventurers, but there is a small element of mystery to it. They each have a secret personality trait and one of them is secretly try to sabotage the rest of the group. I love the creative ideas this game had, but it was a bit of an awkward play. In order for the adventurers to escape, the GM needs to roll a 9 from a 2d6 on the scenario table. The first round, I rolled a 9 for the first scenario. The second round, I rolled a 9 after the players went through about 15 scenarios, the majority of them being the players getting HP for succeeding. I love the concept of this game and I think it inspired me to make my own deception based TTRPG, but it was rather clunky. I have no issue with that at the end of the day. I love playing games that take risks and try new things!

By String and Song by @efangamez

I've enjoyed participating in game jams run and reading some games by efangamez before, so when somebody at the game community mentioned one of their one page games but couldn't remember the name, I knew where to find it. While the game they were recommending was Barbaria, I ultimately ended up going with this game because bards seemed like more fun to play and most of the games in this series seemed like they were reskins of each other. I feel kind of bad saying this, but the game just felt like one page D&D 5e. It's a d20 game which seems to be rare for one page TTRPGs and the way everything was written with Skill Checks and attacking seemed to invoke that game. I guess if you wanted to introduce smaller games to people who have only played D&D I guess this could be a good starting point, but I think most people would just ask to go back to D&D. If I had to guess, most of my negative feelings about this game likely come from me just being burnt out of D&D. It was written well and the enemy descriptions were flavorful, but I don't ever see myself going back to play this.

Honey Heist by gshowitt

Whenever I hear one page TTRPGs discussed, this game always seems to be recommended. After playing it, I can see why. The concept of being normal bears trying to break into a convention was already an instant sell. I loved the idea of the balance of trying to keep your bear and criminal parts from not taking over. It was one of the most interesting ideas for a fail state I've seen in a game. This the game we played for the least amount of time because it was near the end of the meeting and we were all tired, but the random animal chaos mixed in with surprisingly intricate criminal planning made for a fun mix.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #tabletop games

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 1 year

Note

Actually, John O’Bryan or Joshua Hamilton (I forgot which one) confirmed on the Braving the Elements Podcast that Zutara was in the original bible and that there was a fight in the writer’s room for making it canon. He even says he’s still Zutara, that they did it wrong, and that in an alternative universe they’re together.

But his version doesn’t really make sense bc the original bible that can be accessed online doesn’t confirm ANY ships. Also, kataang was literally hinted in the pilot. Not to mention that either Joshua or John - whoever wrote CoTL - literally confirmed that Mike and Aaron made him write Omashu for Kataang’s romance. One of them (Joshua or John) pitched the episode as just being a story of Sokka suffering with the nomads, but Mike and Aaron felt it was important to tie Oma and Shu to Kataang. I also believe it was Joshua Hamilton who wrote the inaccurate “Avatar Extras” that confirmed that Zuko was supposed to be Katara’s love interest.

So essentially, what happened was the following (imo): In the early development stage prior to book 1, the idea of Zuko and Katara were thrown around. Some of the writers might’ve latched onto it and, as a result, the ship was teased in late 3.5 (especially given how POPULAR the ship was in 2005-2008). However, Bryke and Aaron felt that Kataang was always the natural direction and made sense story wise. And ultimately, that’s what happened as endgame. The creators and the head writer feeling that a popular fanon ship with a friendship developed in under 5 episodes doesn’t make for a romantic endgame, in addition to a preference for Kataang.

At the end of the day, no one is denying that Zutara wasn’t teased (not even Bryke themselves). We just don’t think it’s a plausible endgame that makes sense as per the series. I can also sort of understand why some of the writers would still prefer Zutara - it does sound intriguing on paper (very YA and disney), but doesn’t make any sense execution wise. Good on the creators for denying that shit.

Assuming that's true at all, and that is something I likely truly won't do until I search said podcast and hear it myself because God knows zutarians lie all the time, that still make it the power-struggle some people claim it was.

One writer having an idea, latching onto it, and then trying to pass it off as "my idea was totally going to be canon at one point, trust me even though everyone else on the team says another thing and the actual main couple was present from episode one."

And even if we exclude the Kataang angle in Cave Of Two Lovers (that Joshua did write) an intervention on his writting process would still be necessary. I love Sokka, but watching over 20 minutes of him just being annoyed would get repetitive and boring really fast. It makes far more sense to balance it out with two of the other main characters learning about a legend of a city the viewers are familiar with (and will see being at the mercy of the Fire Nation) the following episode. It makes the episode more engaging and reminds us of what will be at stake if the Fire Nation wins.

Another thing that makes this story hard to believe for me, is the fact that Joshua didn't write any episodes until book 2 (though obviously that doesn't mean he couldn't be part of the creative team in some other ways), of all the episodes he did write only "The Chase" has Katara and Zuko interacting at all or so much as mentioning each other, he was the one who wrote Boiling Rock Part 2 which has some major Maiko moments, and he was also part of creating the episode "Ember Island Players" which mocks the very idea of Zutara and has the characters themselves be visibly uncomfortable when they hear of it.

Even if we assume that man was secretly hoping Zutara would be a thing alll along, it seems pretty clear to me that he is NOT this "Zutara champion" that hates the canon ships and fought tooth and nail to make his OTP happen, but the other evil writers stopped him.

Hell, let's look at someone who has been very openly shipping Zutara for years: Dante Basco, aka Zuko. That man has said he refuses to watch the live action movie and to say anything too bad about it because he's an actor and doesn't want to risk angering a guy that could end up being his boss in the future. This same Dante has REPEATELY said Zutara is his favorite ship, and that even though he really likes how the show ended, he wishes that pairing had had a chance to happen.

He says that without any fear, and doesn't seem to have suffered any consequences for it. To me, that shows that "Zutara VS Kataang/Maiko" is not the epic power-struggle amongst the team that zutarians love to pretend it was. It was just people throwing ideas around. Some were used, some were not. Just the ordinary creative process, not a ship war.

And once again, this is me assuming that there's any chance that Joshua ever wanted Zutara to be a thing, and that this is not just another case of obsessive fans lying to everyone again to convince themselves they have canon validation. God knows Zutarians have cried wolf MANY times (and I'm amused that in this version, Aaron Ehasz is one of the "bad guys", even though they are still using that fake interview of him confirmig a zutara endgame as proof that their ship was supposed to be canon. These people lie so much, they lost track of who they claim is "one of them" or not).

#anti zutara

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dorypaxx · 2 years

Text

[Optimus Prime x Reader] Love you to the Cybertron and back

Warning: Prohibited substances, addictive substances, readers are old enough to be aware of their behavior

+++++++

Hi, this is my second time writing fanfic about Optimus. Big daddy makes me feel like there are never enough stories about him. Hope you enjoy this story

+++++++

What is defiance?

In my opinion, that's when you know both of you can't be together but still want to try to get to the other person. Whether it's a 0.000001% chance, or when you know for sure that your future will be nothing but pain and separation, but you still run towards that person like a cow, just to have can see their smiles.

It is often said that one-sided love is the feeling of pissing yourself in the foot. Outsiders see you as stupid, but you feel so warm. And I must have been a real idiot when I fell into an unrequited love affair with a giant alien robot.

But I mean who can NOT love that perfect bot ? Look into those blue eyes that sparkle more than any gem in the world, as deep as the ocean and brighter than the sky on a sunny day; listen to the quiet but serious sound, sometimes too gentle when interested in you; and his thoughtful look when thinking and worrying about everyone. God, it's HARD not to fall in love with such a perfect Optimus Prime !

I secretly thought so while doing my homework on my laptop. The words in the content of the exercise gradually deviate to "I love Optimus so much, why are you so handsome when you walk or sleep or sit, oh my lord, a gift from the Creator, perfect gentleman, destroyer of women hearts...". Suddenly Miko appeared behind me, the mischievous little girl curiously looked at her laptop and asked:

- Hey, what are you doing ?

Startled, I quickly folded the machine in but it was too late. Miko gave me a sly smile that made my face heat up, it felt like I was just caught watching gay porn tagged a man with a pink nipple in a public place, no more human rights. She nudged me on the shoulder with a know-it-all smile and then ran off to tell Bulkhead and Wheeljack..

Now the whole base, even Agent Fowler, knows I have a crush on Optimus. Fowler's eyes were looking at me like he saw me dressed up as a bush, holding an AK and saying "I'm going to fuck your mother"...

But the gods had mercy on me, so the only person who didn't know I had a crush on Optimus was that lovely Prime.

+++++++++++++++++

My guardian is Optimus.

The reason? Ratchet is too busy with data, supercomputers or whatever and always says "I needed that!", Bumblebee, Arcee and Bulkhead all already have someone else. I'm twenty years old, older than all of them, and don't go to the same school as the kids. Although Optimus is too busy to be a nanny, he still tries to make time to pick me up every day. He even thoughtfully cares for me when I'm in a bad mood by rubbing my head with his giant fingers - something no one has ever done to me. Normally, people around me tend to ignore my negative emotions but He is different, He is willing to listen to me when I am sad, praise me when I achieve something and obviously I it was not wrong to fall in love with him at first sight.

I won't confess that I struggled by rolling around on the ground just to have Optimus as my personal guardian instead of any other bot. Surprisingly, instead of trampling me, he actually agreed.

Excellent !!

Gradually, we shared a lot of things with each other. I am an extrovert, active and creative, and always have no shortage of stories to share. Optimus Prime, Autobot leader, part time introvert, loves to listen to my story and then, can talk to me about Cybertron's history, its golden age and I'll share it with him about my home country, which suffered from invasion and division by hostile forces but united to fight for independence, freedom and happiness for our people despite suffering many losses and pain. At those times, Optimus often listens with a contemplative face, and he praises people of my country, at that time I saw a little sadness in his eyes, mixed with longing. Perhaps, He also longs for peace will return to the land of Cybertron.

I know that Optimus is responsible for the fate of his entire planet, so I don't want him to be bothered by my little love. Just being with him, I'm satisfied, I don't want to ask for anything more and always tell my heart to remember that. I just need to see Optimus every day, hear him speak, touch him, be cared for by him and I will be happy and happy. But sometimes, I will also be selfish and greedy. I could pretend to be weak and stupid just to be with him a little longer, to feel the soft, cold touches of metal as he pats my head, inhaling his scent. If the sun, the sky and the stars smelled, it would be Optimus

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Our lives are not always peaceful. Decepticons, MECH, battles that almost took my love away from myself so many times. Remembering that time when I saw the blue color in His eyes gradually fade away, I felt like I had died according to that light.

My heart constricted violently, I felt suffocated, my eyes blurred, engulfed in an endless despair. If my human heart could be used to save Him, I would pull it out myself just to see that clear blue light one more time. I realized that I loved Optimus so much that I didn't even know it, and I prayed to the gods to take me away in His stead, if He could rise again, I wouldn't hesitate to show my love off. Show my love to Him regardless of the outcome.

Maybe it was luck, maybe it was because the gods heard my prayer, the team found a way to revive Optimus. The moment I saw His Spark light up, I burst with happiness. It was only when Optimus raised his giant arm to lightly touch my face that I realized it was already wet with tears. Tears of uncontrollable happiness rolled down her cheeks, falling one after another. I hugged those giant fingers tightly, laughing in a choked sob :

- Welcome back, Optimus.

He replied to me with a warm smile:

- I'm back.

No need for fancy or fancy words. I love Him through such simple words.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After Optimus returned from the dead, he seemed… more strange? I'm not sure if my hunch is correct as he and I have been glaring at each other for more than thirty minutes. Strangely speaking, because normally only I look at Optimus, slim waist, long legs, big butt, handsome, who doesn't like it? But it's very strange for Optimus to look back at me, it's like being reciprocated by a crush, most of which is due to high drugs that give rise to hallucinations.

While I was wondering if the 8 funky balls that I had hidden from Optimus to use on New Year's Eve had any effect on my nerves, he approached me. The speaker, while I pricked my ears to hear what else these 8 funkey balls could make me hallucinate.

- The moon is beautiful today, isn't it?

If it's so illusory, it's definitely a drug...

As a natural reaction, everyone raised their heads to look. Oh, it's the base roof of metal bars and rocks. Then everyone turned their gazes to me. I gulped, chuckling.

- Yes, it's beautiful.

Ratchet looks at me like crazy while Jack and Miko come over and touch my forehead. Jack frowned :

- Strange, no fever at all.

Miko continued:

- Tell me the truth, who sold you drugs?

My forehead had blue veins, picked up these two demons' ears, and whispered in a loud enough volume for them to hear:

-If you two are still babbling, I'll tell Arcee and Bulkhead about how you two tried to buy marijuana and use it. And believe me, Ratchet will let you both listen to lectures 24/7.

Miko pursed her lips, while Jack nodded vigorously. The secret we secretly played with banned substances was something that we swore to live with, carry with us when we died, even if Megatron put a gun to the head, we couldn't tell it out. Suddenly, Miko seemed to think of something, she leaned into my ear and said :

- What Optimus said seems to be quite common in my country. It is a kind of confession where one person says "The moon is beautiful tonight", then if the other responds "The wind is also very gentle", it means yes.

-So Optimus is secretly confessing to her?

- Exactly, Jackie!

The two of them didn't make an appointment, but they both smiled at me. I blushed, my mind still echoing Miko's words. But what if this is just a coincidence? Or just a fleeting illusion of a hopeless unrequited love?

A voice in my head : What if it is true ? What if Optimus loves you the same way you love Him? You deserve this hope of love. Go ahead girl, conquer that perfect bot !

Sink Or Swim . It's not the first time I've been rejected anyway...

- Optimus !! - I shouted - The wind is very gentle today too!!

Fuckfuckfuck I'm going to die !!!!!

Now it's not just Ratchet, but Arcee, Bumblebee, Raf and Bulkhead all looking at me like I'm crazy. Miko and Jack covered their mouths with laughter. I was like a balloon that had been deflated, and my whole body was limp. Embarrassment, shyness, ... mixed emotions in me, but my eyes were still fixed on that red and blue bot.

And He smiled

Striking giant strides toward me, Optimus knelt down, holding out his hand. I jumped up, clinging to His big fingers while Optimus led us both out of the center of the base, to a deserted place just the two of us. Whisperer:

- Can you say it again?

- Say what again? - I laughed and asked in return - Saying the wind is also very gentle, or do I also love you very much?

For a moment, I heard the rumble of an engine. Optimus's metallic skin, which was once cold, was now unusually hot. I looked him straight in the eye, and my heart fluttered with strange joys :

- I've loved you since we first met and always will. So, venerable Optimus, can you assume that you feel the same way about me ? Do you feel like me?

- I have always loved you, but I am afraid, afraid that my enemies will try to harm you when they know this. But after coming back from the dead, seeing you cry, I understand that I can't lie to myself anymore. I swear on the honor of Primus and my Spark, I love you.

I tiptoed slightly, placing a kiss on Optimus' lips. Needless to say, I'm already satisfied. I know that our love will have to go through many obstacles, but what do we do when we have already fallen in love with each other...

Let's put the worries away for now, and enjoy this sweet moment a little more...

Love you to the Cybertron and back

#optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp #wheeljack #ratchet #bumblebee #transformers prime arcee #bulkhead #tfp miko #tfp jack #tfp raf #agent fowler #romantic #defiance

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bg3fandomcritical · 12 days

Note

"AA/UA fanfics are so OOC!"

"Fanfiction doesn't have to follow canon, it's a creative deviation using the source material as a base"

"B-but it's not accurate!!!!"

This is actually how y'all fucking sound, it's evident you haven't read enough fanfic. There are novel long fanfictions of JudasXJesus Mpreg, are you gonna cross your arms and say "That didn't happen in the bible! Jesus wouldn't do that!" Fan-FICTION, FICTION. Just because you don't enjoy something doesn't mean that people have to stop writing it (also, that is incredibly presumptuous to believe that you have a say over what people can and cannot post).

Also: thank you to that previous anon, why are you looking at fanfiction for stuff you don't like? Is it because you're secretly lurking under certain tags looking for something to get mad at? Is that it?

#bg3 critical #tw astarion

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borathae · 10 months

Note

hey hey hey

okay so here it goes

So I was thinking about how MV!tae proapably wasn't interested in Jungkook prior to "Rache", or maybe he was but wasn't going to do anything. I imagine that cell incident just woke all of the sexual yearning inside of him you know especially after he left emprisonnement he just was so deprived of touch and affection and his grief for jimin made him just incredibly parched for a romantic/sensual connection with a boy.

So one night my boy just can't get kookie out of his head, what had happened, his touch, his mouth, eyes and skin and you know how tae is a such an artist and creative he decides to put it in pen. he writes the mostly explicit sexual letter confession you can think of (I GOT THIS IDEA FROM ATENEMENT MOVIE) detailing what he wishes to do to him etc but it's like the atonement movie, full of yearning, filthy and carnal and full of need but sentimental tae style vocabulary and sweet talking. and it helps him get it out of his system, with koo being away with yoongi so he hides that letter and forgets about it.

NOW, present day jungkook was one day in tae's atelier maybe he was looking for something or tae asked him to look for a specific document and he finds it!

I really thought of it as a drabble first where you'd write either: 1. the content of the letter simply to us or 2. the incident where jungkook finds it and confronts tae and what happens after.

ok that what i was thinking of i'm sorry if it's too lengthy sibigirl but i just love this idea so much and i love the atonement movie so much maybe tae even got this idea from the movie idk

Not you mentioning Atonement, how DARE YOU listen. I watched this movie when I was like fifteen and even back then I was broken by it. I think I need to rewatch it now with my mature and wise mind (LMOAOA KIDDING I'm still an idiot, just more romantic and soft afnadsnf) and get my heart broken 😭😭😭 also back then I didn't know I was bi yet, so I think if I rewatched it now I'll just lose my mind over James McAvoy and Keira Knightley equally fnadsnf 😶 EITHER WAY FAJDFJ that was my rant about beautiful people and sad movies fandsfn

i feel like Kookie would be way too polite to actually open the letter at first

because Tae stored it in an empty envolope with no receiver on it

so he'd just go "what's this?", pick it up and then put it away again

"nothing for me" he'd say innocently and go looking for the document Tae needed

meanwhile Tae had a moment of panic watching the entire scene unfold, secretly going "fuck, fuck, fuck"

but then when kook puts it away again, a wave of dissapointment overcomes him

"why didn't he open it?" he would keep thinking that all throughout the day

they would spend the day together painting next to each other and listening to music

and while koo is all like "lalala" singing happily to the sings whilst painting a sundown

Tae can't help but think about the letter

he forgot about it too and only remembered that he wrote it when kook picked it up

and NOW HE NEEDS KOOKIE TO SEE IT

DESPERATELY

he needs it to BAD

so after kookie left for the day, Tae made up a plan

it wasn't even a great plan

he places the letter next to Kook's half-finished painting, knowing that he will see it the next day

and he did

at first Kook was confused going all "huh? what's that envelope doing here?"

while tae is all like "I have no idea, perhaps you forgot it yesterday?"

and sweet koo goes all like "I did? I can't remember."

while Tae is all like secretly inside "JUST OPEN IT OMFG!" but to Koo he is all calm and collected "perhaps you should open it?"

and kook hahaha he goes "but I don't know if it's for me. I can't do that, it's rude."

and Tae literally wants to throw something because how CAN SOMEONE BE SO BLIND TO WHAT IS GOING ON??

but to him he goes all "you won't know until you didn't open it. please I am so curious what it is"

and so Koo does and he begins reading

while Tae sits on needles

he watches how Kook's face gets redder and redder and how he begins to fumble more and more

and by the time the letter is over, Kook is breathing heavily and his pupils are so obviously dilated

and he lowers the letter

the silence between them is fucking intense

tense and heavy and so goddamn suffocating

Kook is silent and Tae's thoughts are racing

why isn't he saying aynthing? why is he looking so shocked? does he hate it? was he too disgsting in the letter?

Tae is SCARED

and then Kook moves

using his powers for it and leaving Tae no time to react

one second Tae is sitting by his painting and the next he finds himself colliding with a wall

HARSHLY

like the kind of roughly and harshly that a human would probably walk away with broken ribs

but Tae isnt in pain

no, Tae is moaning because Kook is holding him, pressing him against a wall as a second later his lips claim his' in a passionate kiss

no words needed to be exchanged because their bodies will do all the talking

#asks: sanguis duology #asks #kiokoninetyfive #hcs: sanguis duology

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