#every three days and uh that seems worse

[bunnyb34r]

And so it begins...

Having severe mood swings and lots of anxiety bc my doctor fucked up one of my meds and I don't get more for another two weeks

It's a delayed release tablet but I only have 4 pills to last me 15 days so I cut them in half and am taking 1/2 every OTHER day and (: this is so fun (: today's a no pill day so yaaaay :)

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! 🥰

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From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

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no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[vettelsvee]

I ALREADY HAVE A WIFE | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ao3 | ask me anything or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x race engineer wife!reader

word count: 3450

summary: seb messes up on a press conference while his pregnant wife is there, and he also has to face a journalist that wants to try have a chance with him

warnings: this is based on THAT interview you know all too well (what are YOUR plans?). curse words, pregnancy and everything involved in it, talks of abortion, mental health issues (fluff fluff fluff)

a/n: this is part of history series (coming soon as is being heavily edited). it was my maiden series so... look carefully between lines because there might be some details you don't want to miss out. let me know what do you think of this pleaseeeeee you know i'm always waiting for your feedback, as well as comments and chats on that anon button please! and also, don't forget reblogs are truly appreciated

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“Rose Benson, for The Times. A question for all three drivers: it’s just 102 days until we’re in Australia. What are your plans now between… What are you gonna be doing over the winter break? 

“What are your plans?”

Everyone in the room was no surprised by Seb’s answer. Laughter started to fill the room, spreading quickly except for two people: Britta and you. You noticed her gaze piercing your husband, as if she were mentally scolding him, like every time she did when he messed up. You, however, just looked at him with a look of disappointment.

She was unsure about what she had just heard, you knew it perfectly.

Seb face immediately turned pale, as if he knew he shouldn’t have said that. As Seb’s not also wife, but also race engineer, you were used to this kind of behaviour and jokes, but today… it just hit different. 

“Seemed to be counting the days,” he continued while starting to laugh a bit nervous. “Can’t wait.”

Max and Lewis, sitting next to him, joined in the laughter, making him laugh even more as the situation seemed to begin to slip out of his control. You were sure that he knew that having you just a few meters away, shaking your head constantly at the same time you whispered something to his PR didn’t bode well. 

“Seb, you go first,” a journalist said. “What are your plans?”

“Uh…”

“Another baby?” Lewis interrupted.

You knew all to well that he tried his best to not tell anything. Apart from your four years old little girl, both of your families, and Britta and Antti, no one knew yet that you couldn’t try for another baby because the baby was already on the way. 

You couldn’t take the risk of sharing the news and then telling people all over the world that you had an abortion, just as happened to you in 2016.

“Uh... well…” Seb stammered, not knowing what else to say. “Quickly done.”

Even though you were caught up in the laughter around you, you couldn’t control your growing nervousness, as well as your husband, and it kept getting worse every time you glanced at him. You crossed your arms, almost falling off your chair, and decided to rest your head on Britta's shoulder. You tried your best not to fall asleep, but the yawns continued leaving your mouth with no shame at all.

“If you need advice I know how to do it.”

Another mess-up.

Britta was already signaling with her hands to him so he stopped saying nonsense, totally overwhelmed not because she wasn’t used to it, but because she was maybe too worried about you. You straightened up as soon as you heard that, and instinctively placed your hands on your barely noticeable belly, thanking yourself for having decided to start wearing clothes a couple of sizes larger than usual.

“Keep pushing,” Max blurted out, immediately drinking from his bottle.

“Well... I don't know how long you two want to stay on free practice sessions, but... if you want…”

“I like free practice,” the Dutchman commented. “I'd rather stay there for now.”

Lewis and Max kept talking to him, but you knew he was trying his best to go along with the conversation.

After what felt like an eternity, the press conference ended. Everyone started to get up and scatter around the room, probably to chat with each other. The season was over, and they wanted to do the usual: say goodbye and wish each other a good winter break. Seb  did the same, with the difference that he headed straight towards you.

You were still sat, eyes fixed on the floor while you fidgeted with your fingers nervously, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You felt like a complete idiot because, even though he hadn't meant any harm and your really knew that, he should have thought before speaking because he knew all too well that you usually got overly sensitive. You had been through a pregnancy together before, and although it was a vast world full of unknowns, certain patterns did repeat.

The constant desire for sex and the hormonal ups and downs you suffered were the most obvious.

Slowly, he approached you and, with utmost care, knelt beside you, placing a hand on your thigh. You didn't pull away as you usually did when she was mad at him, and you saw in his eyes that he wasn’t expecting you to react that way.

“I'm sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable, especially that baby talk. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset you but I ended up messing up, like always.”

You lifted her gaze, meeting his. He knew you were not exactly sad, but a bit disappointed at the thought that someone might have discovered the pregnancy you were trying so hard to keep secret.

“I swear I hate you right now, Sebastian Vettel,” you said, being completely honest and letting the hormones act for you. “You made me feel so bad, I swear, but…”

Your words came out broken, and tried your best to keep your cool.

He knew you stopped talking because your eyes welled up more than usual: you were on the verge of breaking down but didn't want to do it in public. He leaned his forehead against yours, your faces almost touching.

“I never wanted to make you feel this way, my love,” he whispered. “You, alongside our girl, are the most important people to me, and you know that perfectly well,” you nodded, though he knew you doubted it. “You don't know how much I regret not taking care of my words…”

You looked at him, perhaps trying to find the obvious honesty behind his words. You knew he was being completely honest, but once again, your insecurity was consuming you and acting on your behalf.

“Seb, I hate myself right now. Quite a lot, actually,” you revealed in a nearly inaudible whisper. “I hate being pregnant because I feel useless! I'm so bipolar…” you tensed up, though standing and positioning yourself next to him to keep talking without anyone overhearing. “I want to hit you, I want to cry, and at the same time, I want you to take me to the bathrooms and have casual sex like we were teenagers. Do you understand me, sunshine?”

You said that but actually no, he couldn't understand you because he didn't know what it was like to be roughly eight weeks pregnant.

“Y/N, hey, listen to me love,” he said, holding your face in his hands and wiping away your tears. “You don’t have to hate yourself for feeling this way, alright? We’re in this together, and you’re going through a lot of changes. It’s completely normal to feel this way,” he repeated.

You nodded, and even curled your lips into a small smile. You didn’t waste any time and quickly started hugging him and leaving kisses on his right cheek.

But that ended abruptly when you both heard a throat clear behind you.

Britta was standing next to none other than the pink-haired girl who had asked your husband about his winter break plans earlier.

Rose Benson, that Italian journalist who had become one of the best, if not the most prominent, additions to Formula 1 journalism.

“Sebastian, as charming as ever I see…” her words made you cling tightly to Seb’s arm, a bit afraid. Again, your insecurity appeared. “Can I steal you for a few minutes for an exclusive interview?”

Her gaze fell with a hint of disdain on your, as if your were an unnecessary part of the conversation she was trying to have with your husband. Immediately, he wrapped his arm around your waist and started making faces at Britta so she could help him to get rid of that reporter.

As expected, she refused, letting him know he would have to face an interview he didn’t want to do but that it was up to him whether or not he did it. She knew better than anyone what it was like to deal with the media and, especially, with professionals like the one in front of you.

“I’m sorry, Rose. I’m busy.”

“Come on, Sebastian... we’ve known each other for years,” she persisted, getting a bit closer to Seb. “You know it would be an amazing interview... like so many we’ve had.”

You were starting to get upset again. The only thing he did was placing a hand on your belly, and it somehow calmed you, but not for long. 

“Benson, I’m serious. The only conversation I want to have right now is the one I was having with my wife,” he said, calmly rubbing your back.

“You’re disappointing me, Vettel,” she snapped, leaving you both in shock. WYou’re missing out a wonderful opportunity to be interviewed, in private, with someone like me.”

After hearing that, tears once again covered your face. You took a few steps back, slight pushing him and positioned yourself next to Britta, who didn’t know what to do other than wrap her arms around you while Seb was still watching the reporter start scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“Here’s my phone number, Seb,” she said in an overly suggestive tone as she handed him the piece of paper, which he took. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider? We could find a more private place, and…”

As she got dangerously closer to him, Seb kept your eyes on you.

You hated how polite he was even though people acted in such a stupid way. 

“Rose, I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen,” you said again. “My answer, once again, is no.”

“Have you never wanted to explore curves other than those on the circuit?”

“Why are you such a fucking bitch?! The only curves he explores off the circuit are mine!”

The woman’s insinuations had pushed you over the edge. Several people were already looking at you, and you’d swear some were even taking pictures or videos, so it wouldn’t surprise you if you went viral on Twitter that night.

Benson didn’t know what to say or do after your insult, except to end the closeness she had created by moving away from your husband as much as possible, trying not to arouse suspicion from the onlookers.

“Y/N, I think it’s best if we go get some air, what do you think?” Britta suggested you.

“No, I don’t want to go get some air, Britta!” you shouted again, breaking free from Roeske’s careful grasp. You were worried about you getting this upset, but you didn’t care at all. This wasn’t good for the pregnancy. “I want to tell this stupid journalist to learn to do her damn job properly and stop meddling in marriages!”

“Excuse me? Are you calling me a cheater?” she retorted, clearly offended. “You need to learn to control what you say, dear. You’re going to get yourself into more trouble if you keep this up.”

You were getting more nervous than hearing Seb during the press conference, you’d swear.

“Yes, you!” you snapped, moving further away as Britta tried to take you out. She must have noticed how pale you had gone. “Do you think Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend? Well, surprise! He married me last June and we’ve been together for nearly seven years, and we have a daughter, and...!”

The index finger on Seb’s lips was what made you stop from revealing your third pregnancy or who knows what else. Your expression revealed him that, although he had done the best to make you shout, at that moment you only wanted to kill him.

Britta began to guide you more quickly towards the door to get out of there, but your words still could be heard despite the distance with a frustration that was more than obvious. There was a point in your life when you started saying what you wanted, fought for what you believed was not fair, and you stopped being intimidated or afraid of anything or anyone.

That’s what probably made Seb fall in love with you more and more every day, even he actually thought it would be impossible.

When you finally left, Britta handed you a bottle of water and started to calm you down, but you just couldn’t relax. Now, you were still nervous and actually worried about what Seb could be saying to that woman. His body expressions, the ones you were seeing from distance, didn’t calm you as much as you thought, and when she handed him a piece of paper you completely lost it and, once again, started crying, leaning on a wall.

A few minutes, later, Seb approached you while you saw Britta leaving you two some space.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sorry about what happened there. I should’ve handled it better,” he started, his voice full of concern.

“Seb, it’s not your fault. She was way out of line,” you said, your voice trembling while trying to calm yourself down. 

He pulled you into a tight hug, your body relaxing slightly against his.

“We’ll get through this, together, like we always do,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, hoping to soothe your nerves.

His gaze meets your tear-filled eyes. Gently, he took your hands and started caressing them with his thumbs, knowing how much it relaxed you in moments of distress like this.

"Thanks for taking care of her for me, Britta," Seb said, turning around to thank your second mother once more for looking after you and sparing you any trouble.

You wanted to say something to him, but as soon as Seb turned his back again you, he got closer and closed the distance between you two, pressing his lips to yours. 

You ended up forcing yourself to pull away not because you might get horny,because you're not used to showing affection in public unless it's a completely special occasion. The world knows you only hold hands lightly or maybe kiss on the cheek, out of respect for your profession and, above all, so that people see you as an engineer and not just a WAG.

Private moments were exclusively yours, and no one beyond your loved ones and yourselves needed to know about them.

"What's that about, Seb?"

You were too surprised, feeling a wave of emotions invading you. 

"The thing with Rose, or the kiss?" he asked innocently.

"Both," you replied shortly, then corrected yourself. "Sorry, it's just that girl made me feel like..."

You couldn’t continue. You put your hands over your face, but Seb pulled them away. There was no need for you to hide from him: he knew how you felt, and all he wanted in those moments was calming you and making you aware that there was no need for you to feel ashamed about anything.

"I only want you, Y/N," he brought you even closer and started touching your belly again, but now with more discretion. "In this, and a thousand more universes, and beyond life, whatever it is, and no matter what happens, I will always love only you. Just you, Y/N."

"Do you really love me? Even though I'm fat and ugly like I am now?" you wanted to know, doubting yourself as you focused on looking at your body up and down.

He chuckled softly at your comment. You weren’t not fat: your belly was just a slightly bigger than usual despite being in the first trimester because of your natural anatomy. 

"You're neither fat nor ugly, darling, but it's normal to feel that way," he comforted you. "You're experiencing changes, so don't overthink, Y/N. You’re a superhero: you’re creating a whole baby in there"

"But I just... I feel like a bomb of emotions. I feel so... so stupid and contradicting myself all the time..."

"It's the hormones," he interrupted you. "Don't press yourself for feeling that way. Do you remember when you were pregnant with Emily?"

Before he could say anything else, he made sure that, aside from Britta, you were alone in the hallway. Seeing that no one else was around, he kneeled down and brought his face to your belly. He placed both hands on either side and started kissing it, causing you laugh.

"Hello, my little girl. How are you doing? There's a long way to go, but mom and I are so excited to meet you, as well as your big sister, who really wants you to be born just to play with you."

You know the baby couldn’t hear you, but you felt so happy Seb was trying his best to make you a little happier.

"Stop, sunshine," you started saying, taking his arms to make him stand up. "Seb, seriously, get up. They're going to catch us!"

There was no one around, and he even double-checked to make sure. However, he decided to listen to you to avoid making you more nervous. At the same time, Britta nodded for you both to follow her. Seb took your hand and followed her steps.

"Seb..." you started speaking with some doubt.

"What is it, love?"

"Why did you say my little girl before?”

He turned hid head towards you. He saw you blushing and looking a little lost.

"Because I know it's going to be another girl," he confessed to you, leaving you a bit puzzled. "I don't know why, but it seems, and I truly believe, that making girls is our specialty."

"I think it's going to be a boy, but it makes sense: the other baby was also a girl..."

You forced yourself to stop talking. You didn’t usually talk about the miscarriage you had about two years ago, at sixteen weeks pregnant, and although you had made great progress after nearly making an irreversible mistake, it still hurted.

They say you learn from mistakes, but if you had seen the clear signs of the person who ruined your lives and had taken measures much earlier, things would have been very different.

"How about we make a bet?" he commented, trying to change the subject while now wrapping his arm around your waist. "If it's a boy, I'll take you on vacation wherever you want."

"And if it's a girl, like you say?" you wanted to know.

"Then I'll take you to dinner at your favourite restaurant. The one you always want me to take you whenever we go visit your family."

You looked at him strangely, knowing perfectly well that what he said wasn’t really a bet; in fact, it's anything but a bet. Adding to that, his voice sounded so calm that it might have surprised you with his passivity.

Britta and Antti look at you both as Seb helped you to enter the car, as if they wanted to know what you were talking about. You look that he shook his head at them and immediately started laughing.

"And what are you laughing at now, Sebastian?" you snapped at him again as he sat next to Britta. "Are you trying to mess with me, or what?"

"What's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

The whispers from his training coach, who clearly wanted toknow what was going on without appearing nosy, made him laugh even more. He didn’t even answer him and directly looked at you:

"Start thinking if you want to go to Cadiz or Mallorca, and if you prefer a McDonald's burger with pickles and ice cream with ketchup and fries or your aunt's wiener schnitzel."

Your eyes lighted up with excitement. You knew that he was making you decide, but in the end he’ll do all of that, and more, for you. Seb was the best partner ever and took care of you amazingly, especially when you were pregnant or struggling with your mental health. 

"I hate that you know me so well, Seb," you ended up saying, taking some candies from Britta's hand. "But I'm sure you don't know what's on my mind right now."

Of course he did, he knew you too well. You were just being horny, and your face showed.

"Y/N, I really appreciate you all," Roeske began to say as she looked at both of you, "but please: stop acting like you know what in front of us. Can’t you contain yourselves for ten minutes and then do whatever you want when you’re alone in your hotel room? Really, I’ll take care of Emily and I'll even stay all night listening to loud music on my headphones so I don't have to hear you moan all the time. Agree? But please: behave, kids."

[wordsbyrian]

Short: Lego and Lunches - Alexia x Reader

Summary: R and her neice (from Good with Kids) spend the day together building lego and making a mess

A/N: I forgot I wrote this but I post at the whim of a german child

Another day off, another day spent with your niece.

Although today's adventures in babysitting were a lot more short notice than the rest usually are. You were supposed to spend the day doing media but you had gotten your manager to reschedule them because you could honestly think of no worse way to spend your time than talking to strangers.

So instead you and Valeria are sitting in the office of your apartment building lego sets.

Well, you're building the latest millennium falcon set, and she’s playing with some extra pieces that you had in a bucket.

The two of you had made some lego flowers for your girlfriend earlier but the 5 year old had quickly gotten sick of having to follow the step by step instructions.

There’s music playing softly in the background and every now and again you hear Vali mumble something to herself, completely immersed in her make believe game.

You’re not sure exactly how much time passes but eventually you realize that you should probably feed the kid before her parents accuse you of starving her.

“Pulguita,” you call out, not looking up from the pieces in front of you. “What do you want to eat?”

“Tortillas.”

“Tortillas?”

“Si.”

“Just tortillas?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Ok well that’s not happening so let’s head to the kitchen to see what we can make using tortillas,” you tell her finally standing up, groaning as you stretch out.

“Alright.”

In the kitchen, the task isn’t as easy as you made it seem because the kid shoots down every option you give her. All the semi-helthy ones that is because slathering the tortilla in Nutella is apparently the way to the kindergartener’s heart.

And maybe your’s too because the three you eat are totally worth the lecture you’ll get during your next meeting with the team’s nutritionist.

All in all, you’d considered lunch is a success but the clean up however is not something you thought about going into it. Because now your looking around at your kitchen afraid of what your girlfriend will say when she comes home.

Then there’s the Valeria of it all.

The kid has somehow managed to completely cover her face and hands, as well as part of her shirt in the chocolate spread.

It’s a mess.

But before you even have a chance to force Valeria to scrub the evidence from her body, Alexia returns and sends you a glare that makes you think, ‘no, it was not worth it at all.’

“Seriously,” she asks, stepping into the space and seeing the chocolate smeared on the counter.

“Uh,” you say, holding your hands up in a way that’s supposed to show your innocence but instead shows the evidence on your own hands. “We had fruit too?”

The glare you get in return let’s you know that she is not impressed but before you can even formulate words to help your case, Valeria does it for you.

“Hola Ale.”

“Hola nena,” she says, turning to smile at the kid. “Did you have a good time today?”

“Yea! We watched Barbie and played Lego and ate Nutella tortillas!”

“Sounds like a very full day,” Alexia says, while helping Valeria get off the stool. “Why don’t you tell me more about it while we get you cleaned up?”

Valeria easily agrees to this and is headed down the hallway to the bathroom leaving you staring at the very annoyed expression of your girlfriend.

“Clean this up.”

“Amor, I,” she cuts you off.

“Now, Y/N,” she says before rushing down the hall when she hears the faucet turn on in the bathroom.

"Hi babe, how was your day? Great thanks for asking," you grumble mockingly as you watch her walk away.

"I heard that!"

"No you didn't!"

[sytoran]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟎𝟖 — 𝐓𝐈𝐓-𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

kinktober day 008 | milf!natasha x beefy!amab!reader

your wife thinks you've been acting a little off lately. she tries possible solutions to lighten your mood, but eventually it comes down to the 'hard' truth that you wanna fuck her tits.

cont. reader has a cock, teasing, possessiveness, praise word count. 951

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

"Okay, that's enough."

Natasha states firmly, folding her arms as she looks you over. Despite being married for nearly three years and having two kids, Natasha's finding it hard to understand you now.

You've been off the whole day, constantly looking disappointed and guilty. There's this nagging feeling in the back of Natasha's mind that tries to coerce her into assuming the worse, but she knows better than to let those voices take over her.

"It's nothing," you try to mumble, shying away from your wife's insistent gaze. Your eyes are anywhere but Natasha, flickering, and she swears you're flustered.

It's strange. For someone usually so headstrong and confident, it's definitely bizarre to see you acting like this.

"Tell me what's wrong baby, please," Natasha tries again, trying the gentler approach, pressing a hand on the side of your face, trying to make you turn your head to face her.

It only seems to make things worse, you desperately trying to back away and Natasha trying to move closer.

Just by your luck, the back of your leg knocks into the sofa in the midst of your escape, and you stumble. Natasha catches your wrist, attempting to suspend you and prevent the fall, but you end up pulling her down with you anyway.

That's how you end up laying on the sofa with your wife on top of you, her knee unintentionally pressing into the prominent bulge between your legs, now brought into the limelight.

There's silence for a moment, and you want to crawl into a hole and die, but your wife only lets an amused smirk grow on her face.

She lets a hand trail over the tent in your pants, lightly, and you shudder, letting out a hollow exhale.

"Why were you… embarrassed to tell me?" Natasha asks, cautiously, eyeing the ever-rising boner in your pants. She can’t help the warmth slowly rising between her legs.

You look away ashamedly, before woefully admitting your remorse. "Well, I thought you didn't want to like, have sex anymore. I mean, we've had two kids, and you're always busy, and you- I mean, you never seem to like, initiate it, or whatever. Not like we used to.” your mumbling nearly goes unheard, but Natasha’s keen ears prick up every word.

She tilts her head in a concerned fashion. “Baby, we have children in the house! I can’t just jump your bones every hour of the day like we used to when we were in college.”

"Yeah, I know. This was stupid,” you sigh, more so disappointed in yourself than anything. You lift yourself up from the sofa. “I'm sorry for worrying you, baby. You don't have to-"

Before you can even finish your sentence, Natasha’s pulled off your pants in record timing, hands encircling your thick, throbbing cock. All the air is knocked out of you, as you’re pushed back onto the sofa, and you’re quite sure your heart stops beating for a few moments.

“Nat? What are you- what are you doing?” you question lowly, biting back a gasp when your wife begins to rub her hands up and down your shaft through your boxers.

“Just because I haven’t said it, doesn’t mean I don’t want you inside me, dorogoya.” Natasha grunts, tugging off her own sleeping shorts. “the kids are sleeping upstairs, so everything’ll be fine if we’re quiet. anything you want in particular?” she asks, casually.

Noting the sudden change in the glint of your eye, Natasha smirks, knowing she had a definite answer.

“Shit. I- uh, I’ve kinda had three wet dreams about fucking your tits.” you confess, looking up hopefully into your wife’s viridescent eyes.

Her eyebrows raise. You chuckle awkwardly. Your cock, is still embarrassingly hard.

Before you know it, your wildest dreams have been fulfilled. Natasha is now pinned down under you, chest now exposed to the cool night air. your cock is stuffed in the valley between her tits.

You’re just so obsessed with them, because they’re hers. Soft mounds, so easy for you to wrap your bigger hands around and press kisses all over. As much as you love the little rascals that are you and Natasha’s children, you can’t help but miss the days when you could casually lift up her shirt and absent-mindedly play with your wife's breasts like stressballs.

But now, in the heat of the moment, with Natasha holding her tits and rubbing them up and down your long cock, you can’t quite formulate any coherent thoughts.

You pin down your wife’s sides after a few more minutes of rubbing. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” you groan out, beginning to thrust between her tits, slow and deep.

The edge of your cock peeks out at the top of her mounds with each thrust, and it takes everything in Natasha not to moan out loud. She didn’t think she’d be so turned on by this, by your hazy eyes lost in lust, staring at your cock disappearing between her tits.

You get rougher, unknowingly, hypnotised by the way Natasha’s tits shake. Your pre-cum gets smeared all over her tits, and you’re just about to lose it completely.

When Natasha presses a kiss onto the head of your cock, when it emerges through her breasts one last time, you come undone with a long groan, lost in hallucinogenic pleasure.

Your seed goes all over your wife’s ample assets: her pretty tits, her mouth and her face. Natasha smiles breathlessly, looking at you with glittering eyes. She’s so innocently licking off all the cum at the tip of your cock.

“Sorry for acting like a prick, Nat. I love you.”

“Mhm, I’ll forgive you if you do that more often.”

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[ezdotjpg]

do you have any directors commentary on the recent two updates? 👉👈 the color palette is absolutely lovely! and and and WOLF!! :DD

OH BOY DO I

In the original draft of this chapter, Wolf stays a, uh, wolf until like the 4th update. Instead of actually managing to get his teeth on the master sword, Loft threw him off immediately. The Deku Tree still said the line about all three of them being heroes and Slate is like. “Including the fucking dog????!” I thought it was very funny but a) it made some scenes later down the line a huge pain and b) I was tired of drawing wolves ALDKDKD

You may have noticed Wolf’s scowling in the bg of almost every panel. That’s kind of just his face, but also right now my guy is nursing the world’s biggest migraine from popping the shadow crystal out of his skull. He can stay wolfmode for a while, but it’s still technically a curse. It’s not consequence free, and there’s an upper limit for how long he can spend in that form. Anyway, cut him some slack if he’s a little prickly for a bit.

There were a lot of comments about Loft being strong enough to toss a wolf over his head lol. My hc is that he’s one of, if not the strongest Link sans any magic items like power bracelets or gauntlets. He’s actually not even as strong now as he was during his quest. Wolf maybe has him beat now, but he can still get tossed lolol

It might seem like Slate’s really taken everything that happened at the end of ch1 in stride, but don’t worry. He’s simmering. Loft is grateful for the opportunity to get distracted by something else. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to approach the wild animal he’s never seen before lol

This maybe goes without saying based on the events of the last two updates, but Slate never had wolf link with him during the events of botw. He doesn’t recognize Wolf.

I’m really glad ppl seem to be liking the colors bc I struggled with them so hard on both updates 🫠literally days of me turning to my roommate and going “I think I’ve never made anything worse” and them going “it looks good stop being dramatic” WKDJDK I have this thing where if I had an idea in my head for what an update should look like, and what I produce doesn’t meet it somehow, I start seeing in fucking. shrimp colors. Posting always gives me a confidence boost back lol.

these pages were cursed in general bc like. this doesn’t usually happen but I think I redrew every panel in this update at least 5 times each. that’s part of why it ended up being late SKDJF

I REALLY like the idea of being in the presence of the Triforce and having access to its power being this eldritch, divinely horrifying experience. The sort of thing that is impossible to explain to anyone and also haunts you forever. Loft spends a lot of time actively trying not to think about the Triforce. Just, like, remember that about him.

Like how tears in reality are shown through holes in the literal comic panels, I tried to show the concept of reality bending in the form of a panel stretching and twisting like a ribbon ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ I hope that came across. Triforce lore varies a bit from game to game, but I’ve come up with my own internal logic for bonus links that combines all the ideas I like lolol. We’ll learn more about it in due time!

I also really like this parallel :D I intentionally set up the panels so past and present loft would line up like this. i love getting to draw flashback links it’s so fun to think of ways to convey what they used to be like, and how their quests might have gone for them. Past Loft’s not having a great time by the time he reaches this point lol

I think that’s all I’ve got for now. Thanks for asking :D

[stevieschrodinger]

TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to Part One

Link to Part Three

“Again? Seriously?”

Eddie knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows he should. He just...doesn’t seem to be able to.

It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is one hundred percent done with this. This isn’t a life. A gilded cage is still just a cage, and Eddie’s getting to the point where antagonizing the guards is a hobby.

“Wear it, or I’ll make you wear it,” the lackey snarls, shoving the flimsy white fabric against Eddie’s chest.

“You fucking wear it!”

And that’s it. The guys an Alpha, he’s like, literally twice the size of Eddie, and it all happens so fast Eddie’s winded by the floor before he knows what hit him. And then it comes, the whistling noise of the cane singing through the air. Eddie is intimately familiar with the noise.

And just like usual, Eddie can’t keep his noises in, he curses, he calls the guard every name under the sun, he screams and starts to cry but in the end is reduced to a compliant heap, the same as every other time.

They strip him naked and splash freezing water on his face, gets rid of the snot and tears and no doubt the flush he has on his cheeks. His feet are burning, throbbing, and Eddie wants to collapse back to the floor to take the pressure off.

He’s shoved into the white dress, “you so much as blink wrong out there and you won’t be standing for a fortnight.”

Eddie dips his head; he knows it’s true. They’ve done it before. So he gives in. They’re breaking him more and more easily. Eddie doesn’t want to give up; he just doesn’t feel like he has the energy any more.

He’s been here the longest, he’s the only one that’s never sold. It’s only a matter of time before his body ends up in a shallow grave out on the ranch somewhere.

He limps into the dining room, freshly sprayed with heavy duty scent blockers. Eddie’s vaguely aware they’re eating lunch, and if his feet weren’t fucking stinging the way they are, he has no doubt his stomach would growl at the smells.

Eddie doesn’t make it that far before he catches Hagan waving a hand at him, “get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug.” Eddie does his best to oblige, but he can only move so fast with the injuries on his feet.

Hagan, out of everyone here, is not someone you want to piss off. Eddie learned that too, very early on.

"Him," someone says behind Eddie, "I want him."

Eddie turns back again, despite the fact that it can’t possibly be him the Alpha is referring too, there are other male omega here, after all. But no. The Alpha is standing now, and he’s looking right at Eddie.

Well, fuck.

Because as much as Eddie has dreamed of this day, of getting the fuck out of here...that Alpha could be worse. The possibility is always there. This could be a frying pan into fire type situation, and there’s fuck all Eddie can do about that.

Hagan makes a noise, scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

The Alpha is irritatingly good looking at first glance, and he becomes even more so in Eddie’s eyes when he flashes a look of irritated disgust at Hagan, "no, he'll do."

Oh, Eddie ‘will do’ will he? Okay, maybe the Alpha isn’t that good looking, after all.

"Oh," Hagan laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Eddie is ice cold with fear. Hagan called this guy Steve; clearly they know each other. Is that the type of Alpha this Steve guy is?

Everyone else is shooed out of the room, and Eddie stands there on his throbbing feet, hearing, to the dollar, how much he’s worth.

More than he thought, if he’s being honest.

Alpha Steve doesn’t even flinch at the price.

Eddie’s certain Steve must be doing fifteen over the limit, which, honestly, he doesn’t care. It means Eddie’s traveling fifteen over the limit away from a place he never wants to see ever again, so it works for him.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," he answers, but only because he genuinely doesn't want to antagonize this guy right out of the gate.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie just sort of sits there for a moment, feeling stupid. FBI. Rescue??? Maybe he hit his head or he's dreaming or something but...no, his feet are stinging like a bitch and he can very clearly remember how the whole day has gone so far. He’s awake, and this is real.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

The Alpha’s...rambling. Which, Eddie kind of figures now that this guy wasn’t joking when he said he doesn’t work for the FBI. He looks nervous, actually, white knuckling the steering wheel. In Eddie’s experience, if something seems to good to be true, then it almost definitely is. This guy is giving off no scent, and there's no scent in the car anyway. Either it's a rental or something, or this guy wears blockers most of the time. There's even one of those fancy scent diffuser things plugged into the dash. So other than being visibly unsettled Eddie’s got nothing to go off of.

But then, why would he lie? He’s bought Eddie fair and square, and like most Alphas, he’s probably carrying double Eddie’s body weight, plus he knows Eddie's already injured. Eddie could be going from one prison to a...worse prison. But...again, this guy has no reason to lie, right?

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know,” it’s pretty true, without giving too much away. The possibility that this guy could be serious is...it feels to big of an idea to absorb. Eddie might be free? He'll maybe see uncle Wayne again? This guy is going to just...let Eddie go? Eddie's known, for literal years, that he had two ways out of the ranch, out front, bought and paid for, or out back, in a body bag. The sudden possibility of a third option is so out of left field Eddie doesn't know what to do with it.

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie has absolutely no fucking clue what a ‘Hopper’ is, but at the sight of the beautiful golden arches, his priorities shift drastically, "oh fuck me yes," Eddie says it with such vehemence that Steve laughs, he’s got a nice laugh, this Alpha. And unless he’s playing the long con...why the fuck would he even worry if Eddie’s hungry? "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

Steve’s expression changes in an instant, he looks genuinely horrified by what Eddie’s just revealed, “you can have absolutely anything you want.”

Eddie takes him at his word and orders half the damn menu.

Well, Eddie figures, the FBI thing is true, and this is a Hopper, and man he looks like he’s had enough, "you were not supposed to buy a human being," he very clearly tells Steve. Eddie’s feet are stinging a little on the asphalt, but as long as he doesn’t move too much, it’s bearable. And even though he’s still wearing the fucking nightdress, like hell was he missing this conversation.

"I know but-" Steve starts to protest, which Eddie thinks is kind of brave, because if Steve is twice Eddie’s weight, Hopper is basically a giant. Hopper stops him dead with a glare, and Steve hands over his phone and strips off his suit jacket and hands that over too, leaving him in a pristine white shirt.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back and then turning his attention to Eddie, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out." And that sparks a twinge of...fear. Eddie has lived with a group of Omega for years, and the ranch was a lot of things but...they had meals provided, they didn't have to think about money, or clothes, or anything mundane like that. The prospect of suddenly being completely alone...completely alone and potentially vulnerable, is not in any way appealing.

"He can stay with me." Steve suggests out of fucking no where, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off, looking kind of sheepish that he even suggested it. At some point, somewhere between the rescue, the McDonalds, and right this moment, Eddie kind of decides, tentatively, at least, that Alpha Steve might just be an alright guy.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, playing down his relief, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card to Steve, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. Steve fiddles with the card Hopper just gave him, and Eddie can see it says FBI and all that good stuff on it. This is feeling more and more real as time stretches on.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?" Steve asks him.

Eddie feels kind of bad about the sheer amount of money he’s already cost Steve today, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

And that...makes Steve laugh, like really, makes him laugh. And Eddie joins in, not that he thinks he’s funny particularly, but because Steve is just so...well. Maybe it’s a relief too, that Eddie is finally out of that place, and the truth of that is finally sinking in. He’s free. Feels a little delirious with the possibility of freedom.

And there’s only one way to celebrate something like that, “can we get milkshakes?”

@stylelovechild @steddieonthen @marklee-blackmore @sticknpokelightningbolt @resident-gay-bitch @somegirlsomewhere @mugloversonly @cryptid-system @weekend-dreamer7

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

The first time Eddie calls Wayne 'Dad' he's three years old. He's been staying at Wayne's for a few days now; dropped off by his parents without warning and with the vague promise that they'd be back for him soon, already screaming at each other before they're back in the car and speeding off out of sight. Wayne doesn't even have a change of clothes for him, doesn't have any toys or books or much of an idea how to take care of a toddler. Luckily the kid seems happy enough getting into every nook and cranny of the trailer, and toddling around watching Wayne clean up in Eddie's wake like a particularly rambunctious shadow.

Right now he's sat on the kitchen floor, one of Wayne's baseball caps hanging off his tiny head, bashing happily at the array of pots and pans he's dragged out of the cupboards. It's one hell of a racket, but after three days of this either Wayne's headache can't get any worse or he's starting to get used to Hurricane Eddie. Besides, it's good to see the boy having fun, unbothered by whatever chaos has been going on at home.

The crashing comes to a sudden stop, silence ringing through the trailer, and Wayne looks over to see Eddie swaying in place, blinking like he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. The boy's like a puppy, Wayne's learning. Either he's bouncing off the walls or he's asleep, not a whole lot of in-between.

"You tired, kid?"

"No," says Eddie, even as his head droops and a yawn near bigger than he is shakes its way through him.

"Uh-huh. Come on, Charlie Watts; let's get you to bed."

Eddie lets Wayne scoop him up into his arms with only a half-hearted whinge in response. He doesn't even have the energy to fight off Wayne's attempts to brush his teeth and scrub away the grime Eddie somehow manages to accumulate over the course of a day, already drifting off against Wayne's shoulder as he carries Eddie down the hall and tucks him into bed.

"Night, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Dad," Eddie murmurs as Wayne's about to turn off the light.

He freezes in place. The hell's he supposed to say to that? Your dad's not here, kid; God only knows when he's coming back? There's no need to upset the boy. But there'll be hell to pay if Wayne's brother comes back for Eddie only to find out he's taken to calling Wayne 'Dad' instead.

Luckily for Wayne, Eddie's fast asleep before he can figure out what to say for the best.

He presses a kiss to Eddie's mop of curls, and closes the door behind him.

.

Eddie's nine years old now. He's still short, still so skinny he looks like he hasn't had a decent meal in his life, close to bald 'cause the kid can't go two weeks without catching lice, but he seems happier these days than he has in a good long while. That's all that matters to Wayne.

It's his first birthday since Wayne officially became Eddie's guardian – probably the first birthday anyone's ever given a shit, considering the way Eddie's eyes turn to saucers when Wayne hands him his gift.

"Holy shit!" Eddie says as he opens the case and pulls the acoustic guitar from inside. It's not much, just a beaten up old thing Wayne bought off one of the guys at work, but Eddie clutches it reverently, pulls it into his lap like he's amazed he's being allowed to touch it.

"Watch your language," scolds Wayne. He doesn't have the heart to be stern, though. Not when Eddie's staring down at the guitar as if it's the greatest thing he's ever seen.

He watches with a smile as Eddie plucks tentatively at the strings. Maybe he'll come to regret giving Eddie a way to make even more noise than usual, but it might at least manage to hold his focus, maybe even keep him still for more than five minutes at a time.

And God knows, after the past couple years the kid deserves something special.

"You like it?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Dad." Eddie's head snaps up, and his grin falters as he looks over at Wayne sat beside him. "Uncle Wayne, I mean," he says quickly. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." He gives Eddie a gentle pat on the back. It's enough for the kid to brighten up again, his attention already back to his guitar, the moment forgotten. "Now how 'bout you take that to your room and start practicing while I fix us some breakfast?"

"Birthday pancakes?" says Eddie as he follows Wayne into the kitchen with a hopeful grin, still clutching the guitar against his chest.

"I don't remember promising birthday pancakes."

"I remember, old man."

"Who're you calling old, you little punk?" Wayne says, and shoos Eddie back out of the kitchen. "Go on, get out of here."

He watches Eddie bound down the hall to his bedroom, and after a moment the first clumsy notes fill the trailer.

 .

When Eddie's fourteen Wayne gets a call from the sheriff's office, and he arrives at the station to find Eddie cuffed to one of the desks, sullen and stubborn and looking too much like Wayne's brother for comfort. It's not the first time Eddie's landed himself in trouble, but it is the first time the cops have been involved.

He just prays it'll be the last. Wayne's seen this story play out enough times to know how it usually ends.

When he catches sight of Wayne waiting for him, Eddie just rolls his eyes.

"I 'spose you're about to tell me it was all Jeff's idea," says Wayne once they've piled back into the truck and put the police station firmly in the rear-view. He's not expecting an answer, doesn't expect Eddie to grunt more than a few words at a time to him lately, but the awkward silence is still too alien for him to let it sit.

"It was my idea."

"So you're stealing cars now, huh?" He keeps his tone light, as if they're just talking about Eddie's latest obsession, like always. As if his newfound hobby isn't breaking into cars over in Loch Nora.

"I wasn't gonna steal–" Eddie starts, before he's clamping his mouth shut like don't talk to cops extends to Wayne as well now. He glares back out of the window.

"You know next time it happens the sheriff ain't gonna be so lenient."

"Thanks for the lecture, Dad." Eddie lets out a bitter laugh that can't quite mask the hurt behind it. "Oh, wait a sec…"

Wayne sighs. The subject of Eddie's dad has come up enough times these past few months they're gonna have to have a good long talk about him sooner or later. "That what this is about?"

"No."

"But he's been on your mind, right?"

He glances over at Eddie. He's slumped even lower in his seat, arms folded tight across his skinny chest, and determinedly not making eye contact.

"Trust me, kid, he ain't anything worth looking up to."

"Yeah, well what if I'm a screw up just like he is?"

"You're not."

Eddie scoffs. Wayne watches him until the light up ahead turns green.

"The way I see it," he says, "your life's 'bout to fork in two different directions. You keep on down this road, you end up either dead or in a cell right next to your old man's."

Eddie's quiet beside him, but Wayne can tell he's listening, can see the little furrow to his brow as he turns the words over in his mind.

"Or, you take all that pain and anger you got inside you, and you turn it into something worthwhile."

Finally, Eddie looks back at him. "Like what?"

"Don't have to be big. Don't have to be important. All that matters is it means something to you."

They slip back into silence for the rest of the drive, but it's a more comfortable kind this time, a thoughtful kind of silence. Wayne kills the engine and they climb out onto the dirt in front of the trailer.

"Uncle Wayne?" says Eddie, his voice small. He's still lingering by the truck when Wayne peers back at him.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry," he says. "For being an asshole."

"You're not an asshole, Ed. And you ain't about to turn into one. Not on my watch."

Eddie's mouth twitches. It's not a smile, but it isn't far off. "Promise?"

"Yeah, kid. I promise," says Wayne with a smile of his own, and he curls an arm around Eddie's shoulders, hugging him tight as he steers them inside.

 .

At nineteen, Eddie's lying in a hospital bed.

Wayne's been sat at his bedside for God only knows how long at this point – the days have blurred into a steady stream of doctors and beeping machines, hours and minutes fallen to the wayside. The only time he leaves Eddie's side is when Eddie's friends come by to keep their own vigil.

They're all still waiting for him to wake up.

One hand clasping Eddie's, Wayne reads the paper to him to pass the time. He knows Eddie doesn't much care about what's happening out in the real world, and nor does Wayne right now, but any books of Eddie's are lost in whatever mess the quake left of their trailer, and Wayne needs something to keep his eyes from the angry red bruises circling Eddie's neck.

He looks like he's been strung up. The way the town has been baying for Eddie's blood, it wouldn't be much surprise. The rest of his injuries, though – well, no-one seems to have any explanation for those.

Maybe one day Eddie will be able to provide one himself.

There's a tiny noise above him, and Wayne's head snaps up to Eddie's face. He's watched every flutter of Eddie's eyelids, every twitch of his fingers, heart in his throat until the moment passes and Eddie sleeps on. But this time, Eddie stirs.

"Eddie?"

"Dad?"

He frowns with the effort of cracking his eyes open, struggling under the weight of his own body.

"It's all right," Wayne says. He brushes his thumb over Eddie's cheek, careful to avoid the stitches, and squeezes the hand tucked in his tighter. Eddie grips him back. "I'm right here."

Eddie's bleary eyes focus on Wayne, crinkling at the corners with the smile that spreads across his face. "Dad," he rasps again as tears spill down his cheeks.

Wayne's face is wet with his own as he presses a kiss to Eddie's forehead. "Welcome back, son."

[roturo]

SUPER SHY megumi fushiguru x f!reader

summary: way too scared to make a move on your brother's best-friend.

warnings: nsfw, aged up characters, reader is yuuji's little sister, reader is shy, semi-public, sexual tension, bad pick up lines lol, not beta read, fluff?, not finished.

A/N: This was a draft I wanted to post before I went for a break, I didn't have the motivation to finish it, mostly because of how insecure I am with my writings rn, but I know myself, and I know I wouldn't post this one after my break and i'm sorry if I didn't finish it but here it is.

It's your second semester in jujutsu tech, and you can't still seem to stop looking for Fushiguro Megumi.

He's in fourth semester, class president, and quite popular in your classroom. Mostly because of how handsome he is and every girl is thirsting over him.

You never understood the hype until you saw him for the first time at your brother's house. It's been, what? nearly a year? They were doing a school project, more like he's doing a school project while Yuuji stayed playing videogames in the living room. He was wearing an oversized black crewneck with some jeans. Simple choose of clothes, but why does he look extremely handsome in them?

¨Uh... hi.¨ You entered the living room with no clue Yuuji would be here with his friend, at least he could notify you about having friends over so you could change into more appropriate clothes. But I guess some tiny shorts and your brother's T-shirt wasn't bad.

¨Oh! This is Megumi¨ He introduced you by saying your name and for him to know both of you are step-family.

Since then you could never take your eyes out of him.

You told your friends about him and how you could never approach him, even when he's in your house. Something about his aura made you really shy to approach him or even come out of your room to see him. And when Yuuji introduced you to Nobara so you could be 'shopping besties' things could'nt get worse.

Nobara is a great person, she's not the problem. It's her friend group. It's Megumi Fushiguro and his hot damn persona.

You couldn't even keep eye contact with someone else in the group when you go out, because you were fucking scared for him to see your loving eyes that you could swear they would leave those hearts from your eyes like cartoon's.

Nobara knew about your crush for Fushiguro, since she's like your older sister. And to say she didn't accidentally slipped your little crush for him on the cafeteria with Fushiguro and Yuuji present.... would be the dead of you.

At first, Yuuji wouldn't believe it, but then he would remember all those days at his house, going out, your little glances towards Megumi, and 'casual' questions about him... brought him back to reality.

Second, he went through 3 stages. Anger, emotion, and... confussion.

He was furious for the fact you had a crush on his best-friend, which later turned into a fantasize like the kissing booth, one of the movies Gojo-senseid made him watch. But... that brought him into what would he do? Is Megumi good for you? Would he protect you like he does? Will you be happy?

He had mixed opinions about this. Most of them were good, but two or three were bad. Maybe his anxiety?

And Megumi? well, he was confused.

He knows he has plenty of girls falling for him, but he never expected you to be one of them. He thought you were pretty, really, really pretty... but he could never do that to his best friend, could he?

He had kinda of a crush for you too, but never thought of going this far.

Days passed and the topic stayed untouched, not until Yuuji asked Megumi to talk alone.

And it was the most uncomfortable moment Megumi could go through.

¨I just wanted to tell you both of you have my blessing if you ever become something, a really nice couple, both of you are really smart and have a difficult character, not that matters. But I also wish you the best if you ever get married, OHHH how cute, could I be flower guy? Okay, that's a topic for the future, and oh! also- I ALSO give you my blessing to the both of you, mostly to the kid-¨

¨Yuuji, what?-¨

¨Both of you would have really pretty and powerful children, hoping they have more of my sister appearance rather than yours... but don't forget children are for later, LATEEER.¨

Megumi would never tell you about his feelings for you, unless you make the first move, but he's been interested in you since your transfer to Jujutsu Tech in Tokyo. You were just the cutest thing, always blushing and following behind him and Yuuji until you got into your house. You were never outspoken, but you would never let anyone walk all over you, the few times he's seen you fight seared into the back of his mind. The look of unshaken determination along with the way your body moved with your cursed technique had the front of his pants tighten a bit. He wants you, even to this day, but doesn't know exactly how to take that step forward.

You pause your eating for just a second to catch Megumi's eyes staring you down. Did you do something wrong? Did he no like the way you eat? There was little you could do that change that, honestly. As you feel your face brighten and your eyes widen, you feel your confidence swell. You're gonna change him off-guard.

This was it. You were going to say it despite all your classmates being in close proximity. You were never going to live this down.

"Y-You've been staring at me all night, Fushiguro-san... Rather than undressing me with your eyes, did you want to... take this somewhere private and take it off... for real? Don't... don't act like I don't know Nobara told you about my crush... Yuuji can't keep his mouth closed.¨

You're sure he doesn't even know your name and knows you as 'Yuuji's little sister'

But you were really nervous while thinking how to finally make him yours. So shyness can go for a little bit, and fuck it.

You can feel three sets of eyes burning into your stuttering and blushing head, your eyes glaring holes in the half-eaten rice bowl in front of you. You can't believe that came out of your mouth, although it definitely took you a while to get it out. You were way too embarrassed to even look him in the eye.

Megumi couldn't believe the sweet, innocent and shy image he had about you had actually said that, to him of all people. He could do nothing but stare at you in pure shock for a few seconds before returning to his neutral nonchalant state, watching you slowly simmer in your seat. Well, at least he didn't have to take the first step. He was definitely going to take you up on that tempting offer, but he couldn't say that in front of everyone. He knows they wouldn't leave this alone, pestering the two of you until you spill the details.

Feeling the awkward silence weighing down on your shoulders, you shoot out of your chair and turn to head to the restroom, where you will hang your head in shame for the rest of the night. "I, um... I-I'll be back." You make a beeline for the women's restroom, tucked away in a corner behind a few plants. You were definitely going to puke this time.

-

Back at the table, Megumi continues to eat his food, the only change since your departure being him eating a bit slower, trying to process the situation. You justly openly invited him to engage in sexual intercourse with you in front of your confused friend AND brother. Whether it be a joke or something more serious, he needed to hear it again clearly from your mouth for confirmation. The question is, how is he going to do that with you stuck in that restroom?

His entire train of thought crashes when he feels something cold drip on his shirt, his dark eyes darting down to see a wet noodle slowly sliding from its spot on his shirt to land on his dark jeans, another stain forming on the denim material.

"So, it DID have an effect on him." Nobara glares at Yuuji, who stares wide-eyed at his best friend before feeling his lips stretch into a grin. "[Y/N] finally shot her shot! Oh, my little sister grows up so fast!" The light-haired man hums happily before digging into the rest of his meal.

Megumi places the dirty noodle on a napkin before standing and turning to the restroom. "I'm going to check on her," he mumbles to his friends before walking briskly to the restrooms, missing the knowing looks between the patrons at the table. 

"Five bucks if they walk out together." "Deal....Wait, we're betting about my sister here..."

Megumi stands between the two doors, hesitant about entering the women's restroom. He didn't need unnecessary attention or worse, getting everyone kicked out and ruining their meal. However, the way you tried to keep eye contact with him as you stutter your way through your flirting had him listening more to his groin rather than his brain. With a quick prayer that he wouldn't get caught redhanded, he slips into the nearly empty women's restroom, seeing a pair of small feet at the very last stall.

You continue to sulk against the wall as you hear someone enter the restroom. You sigh softly, arms uncrossing to press your hands against your still blushing face. You could never face him again. You had one chance and you absolutely blew it. You were sure he was going to either ignore what you said or completely reject you on the spot. Your heart wouldn't be able to handle the response, so you decide to sneak out through the restroom window and text everyone a sincere apology.

You reach up to unlock the stall's door, pushing yourself to stand and slipping out to be face-to-face with Megumi Fushiguro, yelping as his hands press onto your shoulders and push you back into the stall. You can only look at him in shock as he locks you both in, the awkward silence from earlier crushing your lungs. Oh, no. He was going to reject you right now, wasn't he?

"Fushiguro-san, I'm really sorry about--"

"Did you mean what you said?"

Every word dies on your tongue as he closes the gap between you two and cups your face in his large hands, your body melding against his own. Holy shit, you were NOT expecting this development. A few dying wheezes leave your mouth before you realize your speaker box isn't going to work any time soon. You rapidly nod your head, feeling his grip tighten just a little.

"Good, because here's my answer."

You always wondered what Megumi's lips would taste like back when you saw him for the first. A hint of spearmint and cinnamon, honey and strawberries, hell you even thought he'd taste like cookies and cream ice cream. You can't focus on the flavor when the feeling is the only thing you're thinking about, his lips moving smoothly over your lips. Your eyes widen before you hastily respond, burying your hands in the front of his shirt.

This was blowing your mind right now. You couldn't believe he was here in the women's restroom with his lips moving sensually against your own and his hands reaching down to grip your hips, but frankly, you didn't care too much. You've dreamed of this moment for years and you were not going to let it slip easily. Throwing your arms over his shoulders, you lose yourself to him, trying to keep in all your little noises the longer you were connected.

The taller sorcerer pushes a knee between your legs, letting his hips slide between and his hands lift you up by your bottom, getting a good squeeze. You were as soft as he thought and dreamt of. You were going to be the death of him for sure. One hand slithers up your shirt to brush his fingers against your ribcage, feeling lace brush against his fingertips. He groans softly against your mouth, pushing his tongue inside to assert dominance and letting his second hand join the first when you lock your legs against his waist. No turning back now.

You gasp then groan as his hands grasp the tops of your bra and yank them downward, latching onto your fleshy mounds while his hips grind slowly against yours, feeling your underwear dampen from the stimulating touches and breath-stealing kisses. Speaking of breathing, you part lips from him only to release a filthy moan as he pinches and pulls at your hardening nipples from underneath your shirt. Looking up at him with glassy eyes and drool dribbling down the edges of your lips, you could feel his erection grow and press against you harder. You wanted him, right here and right now.

"F-Fushi--"

¨Megumi, it's Megumi for you.¨

¨M..megumi-¨

The sound of the door swinging open makes you two freeze, eyes wide as whoever enters the restroom walks to the sink and stays put for a while, assuming she was fixing her hair or makeup. You grind your hips down against the tense man, feeling his grip on your breasts tighten slightly before he slams his lips against yours again to silence you. The two of you stay fixed in that position for three minutes before the woman decides her appearance is worthy and leaves the room, gasping for air as you pull away from each other.

"We... we should leave, huh?" You chuckle nervously as he slowly sets you up, straightening his clothes before clearing his throat. You also adjust your clothes and run your hands through your hair, trying your best to steady the blood flow in your face. You were sure you were tinted even redder than before.

"We're going to my place. I hope you're ready." With those few words, he almost zooms out of the restroom, leaving you surprised yet turned on. He didn't reject you or ignore you. In fact, he reciprocated your feelings, about to show you a good time back at his place. You get your mind back together before finally leaving the restroom, walking back to your table to see Megumi handing Yuuji a few paper bills.

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer. 

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement. 

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you. 

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk. 

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment. 

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely. 

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you. 

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister. 

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again. 

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame. 

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it. 

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words. 

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you. 

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him. 

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come. 

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench. 

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant. 

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you. 

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top. 

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish. 

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well. 

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago. 

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once. 

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy. 

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee. 

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets. 

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish. 

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen. 

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change. 

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers. 

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him. 

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you. 

“Boston,” you reply. 

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face. 

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far. 

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening. 

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly. 

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him. 

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise. 

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly. 

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering. 

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms. 

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign. 

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate. 

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.” 

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal. 

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him. 

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.” 

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first. 

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction. 

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it. 

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish. 

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips. 

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note. 

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words. 

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you. 

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you. 

Was this why he’d invited you here? 

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you. 

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse. 

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect. 

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

 "Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.” 

He takes another beat. 

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other." 

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile. 

“Cheers.”

[monalogs]

Ouuu maybe something where Sebastian finally snaps ( ´ ▽ ` )

there is like no fics about him x reader!

Hungry | Sebastian

➷ Paring - Sebastian x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - Noncon, fingering, choking, breath play, rough, mental break, unsafe sex

a/n - sometimes it hits me that im writing freakiness with a character who has de tomato smith chicken legs in his name. yes i'm still writing... inbox open for any requests or ideas, i love to see them still :3 (oh and if you like charlie from smiling friends i have a fic uploaded on my ao3)

Sebastian doesn't know how long it's been since he's had a good meal. His stomach aches for something delicious, and he can feel how his body slightly trembles at the growing malnutrition.

He's gotten used to a lot of things since his “adoption”, but hunger isn't one of them. The mush Randal attempts to give is questionably edible (and probably not safe for the human body) and Luther believes a “sustainable” mixture of bland, flavorless ingredients is enough to satiate.

The pressure in his head can also be accredited to Randal’s voice. He's lost track of what he's rambling about today. Something about ghosts, he deduces, and he much prefers not to listen. He just wants to go to sleep, he really does, but his throat itches and he's reminded that Randal has neglected once again to refill his water bowl. 

“Can I, uh, get some water?” Sebastian asks, interrupting the trainwreck-train of thought spewing out of Randal’s mouth. “I thought you got water like three days ago! You thirsty boy.” Randal cocks his head to the side and Sebastian can only sigh in response.

“I need it every day. Food and water every day.” It's fruitless to try to get him to remember, but his lightheadedness is getting worse, and he just wants to be properly taken care of. 

Randal shrugs, turning his focus to one of his dolls, tugging at the flimsy cloth arm before it completely rips off. A dark, small thing crawls out of the fluff, and immediately scampers into a vent in Randal’s room. He doesn't note it and tosses the torn doll to a shadowy corner in his room, probably not to be seen again.

“Eh, go ask someone else.”

Sebastian doesn't waste time to exit the room, already cycling to the next person who could actually listen to him. He grits, the ache growing in his stomach and head becoming almost unbearable. 

He just needs to find you, which… he doesn't actually know where you are. As much as he’s tried to understand this house, it's complicated and confusing. It brings him back to his thoughts of you. 

You're everything this house isn't.

You’ve been here longer than him, listed as one of Luther’s pets. However, you’ve seemed to actually gain some independence from that. Different from the adherents that are Nyen and Nyon, instead being more akin to a housemate. 

You also don't seem to have any of the… oddities that everyone else has. No crude whiskers or unblinking eyes. You’re allowed your own wardrobe, nothing like the frills and puffs he has to wear. It's almost taunting how pretty and kempt you are.

It’s actually a bit interesting how Luther could allow this, but he assumes you pull your own weight enough to be well fed and unbothered. Sebastian scoffs, how fortunate is that?

Both of you haven't actually interacted that much, and it only serves to add to that untouchable status he's framed around you.

You are in your own world, independent and capable of leaving. But you don't. You continue to stay and wander around the house without a care. While Sebastian is stuck as a poor entertainer at for a bizarre young man, scrambling for any chance of freedom.

Despite this, you don't actually torment him in any way that matters. His envy does run deep, but you're the closest thing to a saving grace right now. He knows the catmen don't really care, and Luther might just shoo him away like the nuisance he is.

Finally, after checking room after room, he spots you sitting on a vintage leather couch with an unmarked book resting on your lap that definitely would be hard to read with how dim the lights are. 

He hovers in the doorway, unsure how to start a conversation. His eyes also don't know where exactly to look, do you realize your skirt is riding up?

You beat him to say something, looking up at him through your lashes, “Hi Sebastian. Do you need something?”

You're as courteous as ever, offering a small smile that doesn't help at all to calm Sebastian’s nerves. 

“Do you have anything to eat?”

You set aside your book and give him a look he can't place. Now up and off your seat to get closer to him, he can see how your brows furrow and lips purse. Suddenly, soft hands grip at the side of his face, and he stammers reactively.

“God, you look terrible. You poor thing.” It comes out sickly sweet, the proximity only heightening the warmth spreading over his freckled face. 

“I–I know…” He sighs, not moving from your touch, “Please, can you just feed me?” 

It sounds pathetic, but at this point he's practically begging for something, anything from you. He relaxes when he hears you giggle, hands leaving his face. 

He sees you walk over to the nightstand drawer beside the couch, rummaging through it before pulling out… a stick of jerky and a juice-pouch, setting it on top in all it's glory.

It isn't much, but it's enough for Sebastian to practically salivate and let out a sound of relief. It could be stale for all he cares, as long as he can taste the added sugar and salt, he’s happy. He almost wants to jump into your arms and thank you.

“Ah, that's perfect–”

You cut him off, a smile planted on your face, “What are you going to do for it?” 

It catches Sebastian completely off guard, mouth agape, “What?” 

You don't falter at all, sitting on the couch as you stare at Sebastian’s shaking figure, “C’mon, you play with Randal all the time, don't you? How about we play something?” 

Sebastian doesn't know how to respond. He's tired, hungry, and growing frustrated. Your voice stays sweet and it provokes a realization, how stupid is it to think you of all people could give him some slack? You aren't any different than the rest of these weirdos, no matter how you hold yourself. 

His stomach growls on cue, and Sebastian can't seem to shake this feverish feeling anymore.

You notice the lack of a response, his face shaded by the dim lighting. Deciding to only poke him further, “...Unless, you aren't really that hungry.”

You don't realize how his fists ball on the side of him, teeth slightly gritting to push out his words, “Just give it.” 

A small laugh leaves your grinning mouth, teasing and like nails on a chalkboard to Sebastian’s ears, “Ooo,” You sing, “feisty!” 

Sebastian’s nostrils flare for a second, seemingly thinking something. He’s red, and his lips tremble ever so slightly. You stare intensely as he pauses and huffs before making his way towards the nightstand. 

“Another time.” He simply states, an unrecognizable irk coating his words. You don't allow this, grabbing his arm as he reaches out for the food.

“I said,” The same saccharine smile stays across your face, “what are you going to do for it?

A switch almost seems to flip in Sebastian’s brain. You don't get to comment on the deep redness that adorns his cheeks, before he suddenly grips you by your shoulders and pins you down on the couch.

Yelping, you trash against his grasp as he hovers over you. He's breathing heavily, his chest drumming up and down as you push your hands against it.

“W-wait!” Sebastian doesn't care about what you have to say. It's all stupid words, stupid words out of your pretty mouth. His head is still reeling, and he doesn't know where the strength to keep you down is coming from.

All he knows is that he's the one with control right now. Something he hasn't had for a long time.

“Stop moving!” He huffs, eyes wide as he grasps the bottom of your shirt and bra, flipping it up to expose you.

His movements are almost thoughtless, as if a ghost possessed him to cup your breast and snake fingers between your thighs. Thoughtless doesn't make it any less rough, and soon enough your bottom half is exposed too.

“Listen, Sebastian, you– you can just have it! I was only messing around!” You try to excuse yourself, but his hand remains groping at your body like you're the first soft thing he's had to hold in forever.  As if you're going to be ripped away from his hands at any second. 

His erection pokes at your pinned down hip, the fabric of his outfit practically straining him. “I don't listen to you.” Sebastian spits, nor loud or quiet. 

It's directly for you to hear.

More words sprew from his mouth. “You think you can just taunt me? Mess with me? Like everyone else?” They come out faster than you can respond, jaw hanging open to croak out any excuse. 

“Shut up, I don't wanna hear it.” He suddenly moves and flips you over onto your stomach, head pressed down onto the aged leather of the couch, hands forced behind your back.

“I need this.” Those words are whispered to himself, low and dark. If you could look at him directly in the face, you’d see the cloudy look overcasting his eyes, the sweat that builds on his forehead, and the furrow of his brows as he looks at your figure. The dim room isn't enough to hide you.

All you can see is leather and flipped strands of hair in your vision. Instead you can only focus on the sound of his deep, shaky breath. Along with the sound of him shuffling to remove his own clothes. He moves on top of you, lanky body pressing against your behind, practically caging you. So close that it's hard to thrash around. And even if you could, you'd only be pushing up against him more.

You gasp when he puts his skinny fingers between your thighs, spreading you apart with a swift motion. Sebastian doesn't waste any time in pushing his fingers inside of you, hunched over as he continues to whisper to himself.

The pounding of your heart is loud in your own ears, you're sure he can hear how it patters against the couch more when he decides to curl his fingers. You whine, almost unintentionally arching at how good it shouldn't feel. But it does, and he knows because he lets out a laugh, “You like this?” It sounds both mocking and genuine.

The leather muffles you, but you manage to moan out a “No–” to which Sebastian seethes at. He leans into your ear, fingers still pumping into your heat. “Don’t lie. You– you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't.” 

You’re unsure if Sebastian is trying to convince himself or you. The slight waver in his voice pairs with the hastiness of his fingers, itching to draw out more moans from your mouth. It’s impossible to ignore the several digits Sebastian pumps into you, him noticing how your thighs begin to quake and muscles tighten around his fingers. As quickly you're brought to the edge, Sebastian retracts. You whine at the now empty sensation, practically huffing like a brat. You don't even realize. Now his hand grips at your side of your hips, your own wetness uncomfortable on your skin. 

“Maybe you’ll like this more.” Sebastian whispers, prodding at your entrance with this length. It’s hard to speak with how he continues to push your head down into the cushion, though any denial would fall on deaf ears even if you could. He slips in too easily, practically bottoming out the second your tightness wraps around him.

Sebastian is all too loud, words and moans mixing into pure nonsense. You wonder why nobody has heard anything yet. The door isn’t even locked. He doesn't care at all it seems, too engrossed in the feeling inside you to even consider the consequences of being caught. 

Sebastian’s hand on the back of your head releases, and you think maybe he’ll let you turn. Maybe you’ll actually be able to scream properly for Luther with air properly filling your lungs and mouth not pressed against leather. He isn’t slowing down at all though, his hips snapping roughly against your ass. A hand snakes around the back of your throat and squeezes, your heart dropping at the growing pressure on your windpipes. 

Sebastian's grip on your throat tightens, the need to claim something, anything, overtaking him. He's spent. He's so close, and he's not about to stop now. He's on the brink, and the feeling of you tightening around him, the way you're almost helpless under him, only serves to push him further.

You can't breathe, your eyes widening frantically, and the only thing you can manage to do is grip the couch. The lack of air is making your vision blur as Sebastian continues to thrust into you, not seeming to notice or care. Your mind begins to swim, the dim room now spinning in your vision.

It's a terrifyingly intense sensation, being so close to the edge yet being choked, the mix of pleasure and pain leaving you feeling dizzy. Your body betrays you, arching and pulsating at the rapid thrusts. Croaking out whatever air left in your lungs, you come with a shudder, your muscles gripping Sebastian’s cock as he continues to pound into you.

Sebastian follows with a guttural moan, thrusts becoming more erratic as he reaches his own climax, shooting into you. The hand around your throat tightens momentarily, before finally releasing, sending you gasping for air. He practically collapses on top of you, his own breath heavy. 

He still holds you against the couch, though you wouldn't have the strength to move him to begin with. You feel the shuffle of him getting off on top of you, finally pulling out with a small groan and letting you at least get onto your side. He now lays beside you, body wrapped over yours. The couch barely fits you both, all you can feel is the heat of both your bodies and the sensation of wetness dripping between your thighs. 

Sebastian nuzzles against you like a baby. He looks exhausted, eyes shut and brows furrowed. You look to find any empathy—any guilt. It isn't there. If anything, he looks content. As if you both will stay like this forever. 

“You're right.” He murmurs, a soft rasp in his voice you aren't used to. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

[andikenpachi]

take care

a little drabby-drab of nursing student!reader meeting paramedic student!abby for the first time

the first day of the semester always seemed to be the most hectic, and that didn’t change once you got accepted into your college’s nursing program. the halls of the health science building were filled to the brim as students made their way to and from classes, their respective conversations buzzing around you like a swarm of bees.

you held your gigantic fundamentals of nursing textbook to your chest with one hand (seriously, why did the book have to be so big?), the other clutching the strap if your backpack. you only had one class today, but it was a whopping three hours long, and your mind was already on information overload. luckily, you professor was gracious, and provided the class with a 20 minute break halfway into the lecture. you decided to use that break to take a much-needed breath of fresh air, and you took an almost exaggerated deep breath in once you opened the double doors leading outside. the air was crisp, and a bit chilly, which was perfect for clearing your mind and ridding it of any distractions.

“uh, excuse me?”

a tap on the shoulder and a smooth voice caught your attention, and you turned around, only to be met with, well… your first distraction.

holy shit.

you would’ve never imagined describing a woman as a complete hunk, but no other word could fit the description of the tall blonde standing before you. her broad shoulders and thick arms strained in the light blue shirt that symbolized students of the paramedics program, which was tightly tucked into black cargo pants that fit her muscular thighs a bit too well.

you tried to speak. you made a real effort too… but was her delicate grey-green eyes made you absolutely melt under her gaze. after what seemed like an eternity of just gawking at the woman, you finally found your voice.

“hi…”

hi?! really, that’s all you could think of saying?!

unexpectedly, the woman chuckled, a low and almost raspy sound that made your heart flutter in your chest.

“hi,” she replied, a bit teasingly. she held out her hand, revealing an AirPod case. “i believe this is yours. i noticed it fall out your backpack in the hallway.”

your eyebrows shot up, and you instantly grabbed your bag, only then noticing that one of the pockets were unzipped.

“oh! wow, uh… thanks,” you stammered, unable to even maintain eye contact as the blonde returned your belonging.

“no problem,” she responded, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought you could hear the smile in her voice.

now what?

you stood there awkwardly, fingers mindlessly toying with the strap of your backpack as you rocked back and forth.

“i’m ab-”

“okay thanks again, bye now!” you suddenly interjected, and you sped away, arms and legs moving almost robotically as you desperately attempted to get out of her field of vision and to your car as quickly as possible.

you didn’t even realize what you did, at least, not until you sat in your car. you slapped both of your cheeks (macaulay culkin style) and yelled, letting out all of your frustration and sheer embarrassment from that interaction.

you leaned back in your seat, shutting your eyes and sighing as you finally calmed down.

what a great way to start off the new semester, you thought to yourself. i’m somehow already behind in my studies, and then i just had to make a fool of myself in front of this fine ass woman, who i might end up seeing almost every fucking day. please, don’t let this day get any worse…

a knock at your window.

the blonde paramedic student.

whoever my enemies are, it seems they have won…

you swallowed the lump in your throat before rolling down your window down all the way, to which the blonde responded by resting her folded arms (oh god, her arms) in the space. she was smiling, biting her bottom lip seemingly to not burst out into laughter, and you fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“you seemed a bit too eager to get away from me there,” she hummed. “i didn’t even get a chance to tell you my name…”

“i-i wasn’t, i promise!” you exclaimed. “it’s just-”

“no, no, it’s all good,” the blonde assured with a laugh. “i’m abby, by the way.”

“abby…” you repeated, liking the way it felt on your tongue. you told her your name as well, to which she smiled.

“it’s nice to meet you,” abby said, “now i know who to call when i need someone to take care of me.”

your eyes widened and your cheeks heated up in a blush, and abby laughed at just how flustered she got you.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding,” she grinned. “but since i’m here, i might as well ask: i’ve been looking for a study buddy, and i know we’re in different majors, but we could still-”

“yes!” you answered a bit too loud for how close you were, and you put a hand over your mouth in embarrassment. “i-i mean, yeah, we can study together, if you like.”

abby bit her lip and smiled, clearly pleased with your response. “great, gimme your phone.”

you complied, unlocking your phone and handing it to her, allowing you to save her number onto it. she called herself, pulling her own phone out of her pocket and saving your number.

“cool, i’ll call you later so we can set things up, ‘kay?”

you nodded as abby handed you your phone back, and she tapped the edge of your car door.

“see you around, nurse,” she jested with a wink, sticking a hand in her pocket as she walked away.

you watched her go, letting out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding as you leaned back in your seat.

you weren’t sure what exactly you were getting yourself into, but whatever it was, you at hoped it’d work out.

i might make a part 2 to this, i might not (i will), but it might not be any time soon lol.

[longhardtransitionreturns]

I've always had this fantasy of not knowing I was pregnant, getting on a flight, and then having a really difficult birth on a plane while all the other passengers listen to my screams.

I spend the day leading up to my flight dealing with stomach cramps but figure they're either from the dodgy kebab I had at the pub or it's my period finally showing up. I've never been regular but it's been quite a while since I've had one so this could be the start of a really bad cycle.

I'm excited to wear my new jumpsuit, which is basically a one piece sweat suit that zips up the front. I'm meeting my partner when I land so I put on a tiny black lace thong and the matching bra and set off for the airport.

Wrangling my luggage while my stomach keeps clenching so hard it takes my breath away is difficult but I finally make it through security. I'm taking a break, rubbing my aching belly, when a pregnant woman passing grabs my shoulder and gives me a sympathetic smile.

"It hurts when they get rowdy, huh? Seems like they know when you're about to fly."

My cheeks turn red. I know I've been gaining weight but I didn't realize I looked pregnant!

I feel like it's rude to tell her that I'm not with child and actually just have to take a massive shit so I smile and mumble what I hope sounds like a sympathetic noise.

After unsuccessfully trying to go to the bathroom, I finally board my flight. I'm grateful to be in first class because it's suddenly really painful to sit any other way but with my legs spread wide.

I try to sleep, especially because I hate flying over the water and the first 6 hours of this flight are over the Atlantic. But not only does the pain in my stomach stop me from sleeping, it drives me from my seat every ten minutes to go strain on the toilet. I'm starting to freak out a little; I've never felt pain like this and for the first time I start to get scared something is really wrong.

Eventually even the engine noise can't mute the groans coming from the tiny plane bathroom. When I stumble out for my 10th time in 2 hours, the flight attendant is waiting with an annoyed looking man in a stained Metallica sweatshirt.

She stops me with a wary smile. "Honey, I think we need to get you checked out. This is John, he's an EMT. He's the only medical professional on board but he agreed to take a look."

John looks hungover or maybe still drunk and his agreement had to have been reluctant but he sits down with me in an empty last row of seats and starts asking questions about my symptoms. When I tell him I haven't had a period for almost a year but the pain feels a bit like period cramps, his eyes go wide as saucers.

"Uh, ma'am, I think I'm gonna need to check your vagina. I think you might be in labor."

I've had enough. This is the second time today someone has thought I'm pregnant! I get up and brush roughly past John and start making my way back up to my seat, hopefully to sleep.

I barely make it to the middle of the plane before the worst pain yet clinches my belly and I feel an undeniable weight plop painfully into my pelvis. It drops me to my knees and I'm suddelny howling in agony, much to the horror of my fellow passengers.

I don't even have time to think before I feel a pop and fluid gushes out of my twat, soaking my panties and jumpsuit. I feel just a second of relief before the pressure is back, worse than I've ever felt, and I know with sudden horrifying clarity that the weight is that of a baby moving down my birth canal.

"There's a baby in my pussy and I need to push!"

John and the flight attendant are immediately at my side, pulling me painfully to my feet. Before I really even know what's happening I'm in the galley in the back of the plane with John unzipping my jumpsuit and peeling my soaked thong down my legs. They lay me spread eagle on the floor and he sticks his fingers up me.

I'm pretty out of it from the pain and shock but over the next ten minutes I gather I'm seven centimeters dilated, it's three hours until we land whether we turn around or keep going, and I'm probably going to have to crown a baby lying on a dirty floor underneath the drawer where they keep the diet Coke and little bottles of liquor.

I can't really focus on anything but the pain, which now includes long, searing stabs through my back as well as my front. The pressure is insane. I never imagined birth would feel like my hips are going to dislocate because the baby passing through them is so big. I hear John say things like "back labor" and "posterior" and, worryingly, "very narrow pelvis" but by that point I am in transition and shaking and puking and pleading for someone to let me die it hurts so bad.

I learned later, through a TikTok video a fellow passenger posted that got four million likes, that I crowned for thirty minutes. The guy who posted the video made a time lapse and edited my screams for help and death over it. He even got a cheeky shot of my bruised, bleeding pussy stretched around the head at the widest point.

When it finally pops out, I pray my ordeal is almost over. But, no matter how hard John pulls or I push, the shoulders are jammed tight in my opening. I spend the final half hour of the flight with a massive head hanging out of me while I drift in and out of consciousness.

I remember how bad it hurt for that head to be jostled when the plane landed and it was agony to be lifted on to the stretcher, my legs carefully held wide to accommodate the head hanging between them. I remember being horrified most of the passengers were filming me being wheeled up the aisle, legs open, screaming about the pain in my pussy every time we hit a bump.

It wasn't until hours later, my 14lb son in my arms and the good drugs masking the horror of what they had to do to me down there to finally get him all the way out, that I realized the creative folks on the internet had turned my birth from hell into a trending TikTok song.

I never really found the humor in putting me screaming "I've got a baby in my pussy and I need to push" and "Oh my God, my clitoris just ripped" to music. Especially since all I got was a kid I didn't want and a lifetime fear of both birth and flying.

[justmeinadaze]

Ghost In The Machine (Eddie X You)

A/N: I wrote this a few days ago because I need it more than anything rn.

Title is based off of SZA's song "Ghost In The Machine".

"I give a fuck, I just wanna fuck, eat, sleep, love, happy Can you make me happy? Can you keep me happy?

Can you distract me from all the disaster? Can you touch on me and not call me after? Can you hate on me and mask it with laughter? Can you lead me to the ark? What's the password?

I need humanity You're like humanity"

They do text near the end. Eddie's texts will be in red.

Warnings: Daddy Dom Eddie X Stripper Sub (slight bratty) Fem Reader, SMUT, dirty talk, dry humping, phone smut, slight degrading if you squint, choking), Eddie is kinda mean at first, traumas are alluded to but not expanded on (Child abuse; bad past relationships), light FLUFF with my usual dash of the ANGST.

Word Count: 4060

Being asked to perform at parties like this wasn’t new for you and the other girls. Having the manager of a famous band reach out to your company for some “entertainment” wasn’t odd either. What was odd was that you were told Corroded Coffin had four band members and right now you were looking at three. They seemed content with the girls they had grinding and kissing on their lap so you decided to take a look around the mansion style home you guys had been called to. 

It was extremely beautiful with a bunch of rooms displaying different things. Your fingers grazed the wall at the bottom of the bands framed platinum and gold albums. Turning into what you assumed was a game room, you found a billiards table and a PlayStation with a mini bar in the corner. Around the area, shelfs prominently showed off the band’s awards and accolades with MANY pictures of them in different places. 

As you walked further down the hall, you passed an open-door smelling smoke and hearing light strumming of a guitar. Pausing, you took a couple of steps back to peer into the room, finding that missing fourth member.

He had headphones on over his long, wavy hair as a half-finished cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyes were closed as his fingers ran across the instruments strings as it leaned against his bare chest. His jeaned leg and barefoot tapped to a beat as he listened to his music. 

“Jesus Christ!”, he exclaimed as his eyes shot open feeling a change in the atmosphere. “What the fuck are you doing over here?! You girls are supposed to stay in the goddamn living room.”

“Hey there’s no reason to be rude! Your friends were preoccupied with the other ladies so I thought I’d look around.”

“Uh huh. To steal shit?”

“No! To look. I got bored, ok?!”

“Hm. A hooker who’s bored. That’s something I haven’t heard before.” His tone is dripping with mocking as he rises to his feet. 

“That’s no reason for you to be a fucking asshole!”

“You watch your mouth when you talk to me, little girl. I can make sure you and your ‘company’ never get another job again.”

“Oh, Mr. Tough Rockstar is oh no scary. Fuck you. I’ve handled way worse clients than the number 5 band on the billboard charts.”

The man’s held tilted to the side as he finally drank you in. You were visually different than what he expected when his friends had suggested reaching out to an agency to have some women come over to celebrate with since they were nominated for another Grammy. Eddie didn’t care about that kind of thing; he just wanted to play music. When he heard the car pull up, he immediately disappeared to his room to practice and write some new songs. Not that he wasn’t interested in “entertaining a woman”. This metalhead liked a challenge and he enjoyed even more a strong woman that wouldn’t just cater to his every whim. He didn’t want a woman who would get down on her knees no questions asked. Eddie wanted one who would tell him to fuck off but then after a few consensual activities would be dripping and begging for his cock.

Women were offered to him and his friends constantly. He wanted something he had to earn so that way when she finally submitted, it was all the more sweet.

“What’s your name?”, he asked in a much softer tone.

“Y/N. You?”

“Are you asking to be polite or do you genuinely not know who the guitarist of the band who is number five on the billboard charts?”

“Do you always make things this complicated?”

“Yes.” When he grins at you, you can’t help but smile back.

“Some of the other ladies find catering to a man’s ego really gets them going. I find it’s better to ask them questions, Mr. Munson, especially since most of our clients think we don’t care about them.”

“Do you? Care I mean.”

“Sometimes.”, you shrug. 

“You’re honest. I like that.”

“I don’t really see the point in lying if I’m probably never going to see you again.”

“Do you WANT to see me again?”

This time it was your turn to tilt your head. He said that with a lot of the sass he had been giving you since he saw you but something else was behind his eyes when he spoke, something lonely. Your palm reached out confidently, landing on the bulge in his jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his size. The part of him that was against your hand wasn’t even all of him and you gulped as you tried to regain your confident composure. 

“Do you want me to help you feel better now, Mr. Munson?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”, the guitarist mused as he stepped forward, placing his own palm against the wall behind you and trapping you against it. “I hate when my questions go unanswered.”

“You-you must be used to disappointment then.”

His nose grazed yours, grinning a big tooth filled smile before his eyes flicked down to your hand on his cock.

“You must be to, Y/N.” Slowly, his fingers trace down your arm and take hold of your wrist as he holds it still. “Be honest. Have you ever felt a dick as big as mine?” 

You licked your lips as his hips began grinding against your palm, trying to push down the moan that wanted to escape. 

 “Ooo someone’s confident.”, you jest. Something in his look changes as the hand on the wall behind you slides down to your throat. In most situations with your other clients this would be a time to panic but he wasn’t gripping you violently. When his fingers firmly pressed into your skin, your brain felt fuzzy as your pussy clenched around nothing. 

“I’d say I’ve earned the right to be confident. Now, Y/N, this your one warning. Answer the questions I ask you. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Mr. Munson. I understand. N-no. I’ve never felt a dick like yours.”

He smirked as he pressed your palm harder against him. “Good girl.” Your let out a sigh when he released his hold on your neck to push some of your hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful, Y/N. Fuck and your hand feels so good. I can only imagine how the rest of you feels.”

“You don’t have to imagine. You can have me if you want me.”

Eddie’s smirk grows as he bites his bottom lip. “Honestly, sweetheart, I’ve never wanted anything more but…that’s not how I play. I don’t want you to fuck me because you’re paid to.” He leans in till his lips are right by your ear. “I want you to fuck me because you want to…need me to.” You hear his breathing stutter as he moves his hips faster, his grip on your wrist tightening. “Beg me to.”

“Oh fuck…”, you whimpered at his words. His movements become choppy and grunts before you feel dampness on his jeans. 

He leans back placing his forehead on yours as he licks his lips and softly smiles. “See, what would usually happen now is I’d make you cum to. I bet that pussy is just aching to be touched but see…you’re getting to paid to make us feel good…not the other way around.”

You’re honestly too stunned to say anything or fight back with your typical brand of sass. Right now, all you can think of his him and how bad you need something from him; anything. 

“Can…can I kiss you?”

When he nods, you waste no time connecting your lips to his. You immediately taste the nicotine but that undertone of him has you dizzy. All too quickly, it’s over as he pulls away. He doesn’t just move his head but his whole body as he backs towards his bed, yanking off his now stained jeans and boxers.

“How long are you ladies here for?”, he asks nonchalantly as he sits on the bed and picks up his guitar again. 

“Huh? Oh, um, 2 AM I think.”

He glances at his phone before handing it to you. “Time’s almost up. Put your number in there for me.”

Eddie said it like a command and your instinct was to say something snarky but as you looked down at him strumming his instrument without looking at you, you realized there was more to this man than meets the eye. Most men who begged for your number always watched you intently to make sure you actually did it, you assumed. Of course, you gave them a fake number or the number to the agency you worked for but with this man here his head remained lowered. It was almost like he was afraid you wouldn’t…like he really hoped you would and would be hurt if he watched you decline, giving the phone back. 

There was something about Eddie that you wanted to know more about. He wasn’t like everyone else you had been around. For some reason, you felt like you could trust him. 

After inputting your real number, you placed his device back on his nightstand and sat beside him. “We still have 45 minutes. Can I ask what you’re working on?”

His eyes shoot over to you as he cautiously scans your soft smiling face. “We’re working on this new album and Jeff has this song he wrote but I can’t find the right sound. I was just messing around and recording them to see if it sparked something.”

“May I hear what you have so far?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He reached over, grabbing an extra set of headphones and placed them over you head. You grinned as different guitar riffs and melodies began to play. 

“This is all you?” Eddie nods. “Wow. Mr. Munson, you are definitely talented.”

When he pauses the recording and you slide the headphones around your neck. “You can call me Eddie if you’d like.”

“Okay, Eddie.” After putting the headphones over your ears again, he pressed play and you both leaned back in his bed. 

He couldn’t help but be a little shocked that you didn’t try to touch him again. Anywhere he or his band went, people tried to touch his body whether it was meet and greets, walking through the street, or even on stage when overzealous fans would jump on and run at them. Any girl that was lucky enough to be in his bed would insist on touching him until she left as if she knew this would be the last time she saw him. That’s another reason he struggled to maintain any kind of relationship. Besides the crazy rockstar life, he never was keen on being constantly touched. 

He got enough of that with his career and when he was growing up when his dad would knock him around. With his last relationship, they fought constantly because there were times he would come home from a long day and just wanted a moment to decompress alone. He knew she meant well but even after nicely asking her to give him a moment she would still try and wrap her arms around him or try and kiss parts of his body.

What he didn’t know yet was that you understood that feeling all too well. Being in your line of work, men seemed to believe you didn’t even have a line they shouldn’t cross, always touching some part of your body until their time was up. When you were just a stripper at the company you worked for, men were the same but at least you had a bouncer to quickly pulled them back. When times got hard and you told your boss you were willing to sign up for the “side hustle”, it was just you and the girls. 

No one had ever gotten too physical like that but after your client came you just wanted them to roll over and crash or just leave you there till the timer was up. Personally, you chose to stay away from relationships knowing most men wouldn’t like your line of business. Men constantly offered to “save you” but you knew it was all talk. They didn’t really care about you. 

When you moved to the city, you promised you were only going to look out for yourself. You took care of you and had for a long time. The last time you relinquished control like that, you got burned and ran all the way to a new state. 

A small hand tapped your knee and you jumped before realizing it was one of the other girls letting you know time was up. 

“Ok, I’ll be right there.” You turn to Eddie and hand him his headphones. “I really like what you have so far. That last one was beautiful.”

“Thank you. Here, um, let me grab my sweatpants and I can walk you out.”

“Oh, Eddie, no. You don’t have to do that. It’s super late and in your gated front yard I don’t think anyone is going to jump us.”, you giggle. 

“Ok…I’m going to put on pants anyway though because I want to hug you if that’s alright.” Without waiting for an answer, he finds a pair on the floor and pulls them up just below his hips. 

“Do arms not work without sweats?”

“They do but I don’t want to be disrespectful by rubbing my dick on you and making you uncomfortable.”

“Didn’t I just…”

“You made that move, sweetheart. You put your hand on me.”, he grins as he places his body in front of yours. “May I hug you?”

When you nod, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest as your own limbs cling to his upper torso. This was a new feeling for you. It had been so long since you felt safe in someone’s arms. His hand petted your hair as he kissed the top of your head. 

“I’ll talk to you later to make sure you’re alright.”

***

You sighed as you entered your front door, putting away your things, and throwing yourself on your bed as you closed your eyes. A sudden ding on your phone made your eyebrows scrunch as you blindly searched for it on your bed. Swiping it open, you noticed it was from an unknown number but as you read the message, a smile slowly formed on your face. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just checking in to make sure you got home alright.”

“Are you stalking me, Mr. Munson? Lol. I literally just walked in the door.”

Tossing your phone back on the bed, you figure it will most likely take him awhile to respond but as you go to your closet to change you hear that familiar ding.

“Yup. You caught me. I followed you home.”

“Shit. I just realized that’s probably not a joke I should be making in your line of work.”

“I was just thinking about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Lol Eddie! If I thought you were like that I wouldn’t have given you my number : ) “

“I’m alright though. Thank you for checking up on me.”

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now so you can sleep.”

“I actually wasn’t going to go to sleep just yet.” 

You paused for a moment debating on if you should tell him what you were going to do before bed. You were hoping if you did maybe he would talk to you like he did in his bedroom. Hearing him murmur his words and what he said got you wetter than anything else. You could still feel your slick sticking to your legs after you changed your clothes. Hell, it couldn’t hurt, right?

“I just got back from spending some time with this long haired rockstar with a huge cock who got me all hot and bothered so I was going to relieve some of this pressure here.”

You watched the dots on his end appear and disappear. The longer it took him the more nervous you got. Had you crossed a line?

“Don’t talk like that. Be upfront and honest. Talk to me like a big girl. What were you going to do before bed, Y/N?”

You could almost feel his stern eyes through the screen as you rubbed your thighs together. 

“I was going to touch myself and think of you.”

His name suddenly popped up on your phone and you didn’t hesitate to answer the call. 

“Hey Eddie.”

“Are you still wearing what you had on here?”

“No. I’m naked now.”

“Liar.”

“Eddie, I’m not—”

“Call me back when you’re ready to be a good girl.”

Your jaw dropped as he hung up and you huffed as you called him backed. “How dare you—”

“I don’t play games like that, little girl, and I hate liars. I figured since I got you all riled up and you are no longer on the clock maybe I could help you out. I also thought it would be fucking sexy to hear what you sound like when you cum. But if you want to cop an attitude with me, I can treat you how bratty little girls deserve to be treated. Now…what are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing an oversized t-shirt with my panties from earlier.”

He could hear your pout through the phone and it was making him hard all over again. 

“Good. Good girl. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

“I don’t know. I just… I always have to be SEXY; you know? God forbid I show any humanity.”

“Not with me, princess. I imagine you look just as sexy now as you did looking up at me with those big, beautiful eyes against my bedroom wall."

“Thank you, Mr. Munson.”

“Of course. Now tell me, baby. You said you were going to touch yourself and think of me. What about me?”

“I was thinking about the way your lips tasted when you kissed me…so good.”

“The cigarette taste didn’t bother you?”, he chuckled making you smile as one of your hands roamed up your shirt to touch your breast. 

“No. Not at all.”, you giggle back, biting your bottom lip. 

“That’s good. I’ve had some complaints.” You can hear him smile and your fingers run along your nipple as your exhale heavily. “What are you doing over there, honey?”

“I’m playing with my tits.”

“Mmm. You did have some perfect tits. Well, from what I saw under that tight ass tank top.”

That makes you genuinely laugh and his smile grows at the sound. “What else were you going to think about?”

Your hand slides under the waistband of your panties as your finger slides through your dripping folds. 

“I was going to think about your thick cock against my palm and the way you rubbed against it.”

“Yeah? You’re going to imagine me doing that right now between those gorgeous legs? Grinding my dick against your pretty little pussy.”

“F-fuck, Eddie.” Your eyes rolled back as two of your fingers breached your entrance. “Please…keep talking to me…like that.”

“You like the way I talk to you? Was that something else you were going to think about? Picturing me whispering in your ear like I did when you were here?”

You didn’t know but he was leading you somewhere. There was one thing he wanted, needed to hear you say on your own. As soon as he heard it, he was yours and he would do anything to make you his. 

“Yes, I liked hearing you say the things you said.”

Eddie could hear you touching yourself and your little moans were driving him crazy as he quickly pulled down his pants. 

“Princess, is it ok if I touch myself to?”

“Yeah, baby. Of course. A-are you—mmm—still a bit sensitive?” The sound of him spitting in his hand had you clench tightly as you whimpered. 

“Ah, no, baby girl. But with those sexy fucking whimpers and groans I’m not going to last long.”, he chuckled. “How many fingers are you using?” You barely heard him as you thumb began messaging your clit. “I asked you something, sweetheart. What did I say when you were here?”

“If-if—mmm—you ask…me…something I-I answer.”

“Good girl. Tell me how many fingers you’re using.”

“Fuck…two. Two, Daddy.”

Eddie practically growled with pleasure at the word that he had been praying would fall from your lips. 

“Jesus, yes. Good fucking girl. I want you to use three. You…you have to prepare that pretty pussy for… Daddy’s big cock.”

As soon as you did as he asked, the English language completely escaped your mind. 

“I…your…oh my…” He grunted in your ear reminding you of when he was pressed against you sending you toppling over the edge as you came hard. The sound was almost too much for him as he pictured your cunt spasming around him as you moaned his name just as you had. For the second time that night you made him cum as his spend shot out and hit his stomach. 

“Are you ok?”, you mumbled, drunk off your orgasm.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m alright. Are you?”

“I’ve never called anyone Daddy before.” You had no idea why you were being so honest with him. That wasn’t necessarily something he needed to know but for some reason you thought maybe the knowledge of that would make him feel special. You wanted him to feel good. 

“What made you say it now?”

You scoot your body further into your bed as you curl up into your sheets.

“I feel safe with you. I know that sounds so weird. We barely even know each other but I do…”

You listened to the soothing sound of his breath into the phone as he absorbed what you were saying. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I can be a bit of an asshole sometimes.”

“I can handle the asshole.” You smile when you hear him softly laugh. 

“On Friday, we’re going to be spending some time at the recording studio. Do you want come by and listen to us play?”

“I would love to but I have to work Friday night.”

“How about you come by in the afternoon and then go to work? Are you…um…”

“No, side business Friday. I’ll just be dancing.”

“Ok, cool. Maybe when we’re done, I can meet up with you after.”

“Eddie…I like you a lot but are you sure you want to do this? I strip and I have sex for money. I’m not proud of it but I’m not ashamed of it either. I’m doing what I have to do right now.”

He was silent for a moment as he thought about what you were saying. 

“Y/N, I’m not perfect. I’ve been arrested, gotten into fights with paparazzi, and like I said I can be a bit of an asshole. I like you a lot to but I understand that this is all new. You and I lead interesting lives. I’m not…going to harp on you and I’m not going to, I don’t know, offer to fucking save you or whatever other douchebags say.” You laugh making him smile. “But I would like to take care of you…physically, mentally, emotionally…financially.”

“I don’t know how to give up control like that.”

The way you say that makes him want to scoop you up in his arms and cradle you into his chest. 

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, not tomorrow.”

“Can I come over so we can talk? We’re doing this stupid photoshoot thing but I can come over after and bring some food. Of course, only if you’re comfortable. That’s all that really matters to me, baby girl. I want you to be comfortable.”

You don’t know why but you believed him when he said it. What was it about this man that had you breaking all your normal rules?  Not just rules with the business but in your life. You had been on your own for so long that you didn’t need nor want to become involved with someone. However, it would be nice to have someone take care of you for once…

“Okay, Daddy”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 31 - Speaking Saturday: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

“You can’t keep going on like this, Eddie! You’re gonna die, you’ve gotta find them, tell them!”

Eddie hacks another horrible cough. Three petals fall into his hand this time. “Uh huh.”

The cough started not long after Eddie’d been deemed fully recovered and fully cleared of all wrongdoing in the spring break murders.

It started light at first, Eddie brushing it off as getting used to smoking again, but it’d just gotten worse.

After a good couple weeks of solid cough, Steve finally saw a petal.

All Eddie’s attempts at squirreling them away successful until that moment.

Eddie had contracted Hanahaki. Love blossoms, Death thorns.

And he’d staunchly refused any conversation about confessing to whoever it was he was stuck on, who he was literally dying over.

"Why are you being such an idiot about this?!”

“I’m being realistic, Steve.” Every breath sounds like it’s going through a cheese grater.

“Realis– Eddie. You. Are. Going. To. Die.”

“Yep.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

That finally seems to set him off, “Of course I’m not! I’m fucking pissed that this is my lot in life. I survived the bats, the infections, the goddamn people of this town, and now it’s my stupid, lovesick heart that does me in?? I’m livid!”

Eddie hacks another cough, folding up on the bed with the force of them. A pile of ten blood-spattered petals sit on his lap by the end of his fit.

“So why not try?” Steve asks when Eddie’s breathing levels back out to its new normal level of wheezing. “If you’re already resigned yourself to dying, what’s the harm in telling them?”

Eddie studies him, his dark eyes are bloodshot, watering still from the coughs, then closes his eyes and shakes his head yet again.

“Damn it, Eddie.” Steve drops his head into his palms, “Do you think this is fun for us? Watching you wither away like this?” He picks his head back up, “Do you think Wayne is enjoying knowing that he got you back from the dead once only for you to turn around and walk back towards it?”

“I’m not going to do it, Steve, so stop.”

“No, this is asinine and you know it, Munson!”

Eddie’s face twists up in anger, “I’m not going to beg you to love me!”

Every fiber of Steve’s being freezes in place. His heart stops, his feet are made of ice.

Then, his head, blissfully quiet for only a moment, swirls back into a frenzy.

What?! Me?! I’m the one causing thi—

“I want you to leave.” Eddie’s whisper cuts his thoughts short.

“Huh?”

“Leave.”

“Eddie, no, wait, just let me–”

“Go, Steve!”

Steve’s legs pick him up in an instant. “Eddie, I—”

“I said leave, Harrington! Get the fuck out of my hou—” a fit of coughs breaks into his speech, and this time, Eddie reaches for the bucket, spewing his meager breakfast and bile into the bottom along with at least ten more petals. A final heave, and a whole rose makes an appearance.

Once done, he spits a couple times, then without looking up, says, “Go. Now.”

So he does. 

He walks down the hall and to the front door in a daze, his thoughts swirling.

Eddie’s in love with him?

He– Him?? Steve Harrington? He’s like, the complete opposite of what Eddie should be into. 

He’s driving now, not sure where he’s going.

But why? Why him? How is Steve supposed to help him??

That’s why he didn’t want to tell you, dipshit.

Of course.

The car pulls into Robin’s driveway.

What is he supposed to do now? He’s got to save Eddie’s life somehow, right?

“Dingus, what are you doing here?”

“I’m why Eddie’s dying.”

Robin’s expression shifts, she pulls him into the house and up the stairs to her room.

Steve sinks down onto the edge of her mattress. “Robin, Eddie’s in love with me. I’m his Hanahaki.”

“I know, I know,” She says, patting his back, “He told me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, Steve. Not unless you suddenly have a whole new preference in partners.”

Steve sits with that a moment. Did he? Eddie’s a good-looking guy, sure, that’s just objective. But…. he thinks about kissing Eddie, how his lips would feel against his, about the times he’d seen him naked while helping him recover, about how he’d feel against him..

Nothing.

Steve doesn’t want to kiss Eddie. Doesn’t want to do anything more with the imagined naked man in his head other than find him some clothes after helping get him clean and changing his bandages. 

He loves the guy, sure, but it’s only maybe more than how much he loves Jonathan. Meaning he’s on the Steve Scale of Caring just under all the shitheads.

“No. I don’t.”

Robin heaves a sigh, “Yeah, figured as much. What’d Eddie say when you told him?”

“..Told him what?”

“That you don’t feel that way about him.”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

Steve shrugs.

“You didn’t tell him you don’t have feelings for him?”

“I didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t let me.” He tells Robin what Eddie said, about throwing up and demanding he leave right after.

“What? What’s with the face?” “We have to get back to Eddie’s.” Robin shoots up, grabbing her back and pulling on some socks.

Steve follows, “What? What do you mean?”

“How many did he throw up? How many petals?”

“Uh, I dunno, ten maybe? A whole flower came out at the end.”

Robin’s eyes go wide, “Oh no.”

A rock sinks heavily into Steve’s stomach, “What’s “Oh no.”?”

“Let’s go!!”

She pulls him down the steps and back out the door, barely managing to pull her shoes on.

“Gotta hurry! We've got to get back to Forest Hills!”

So he steps on it, not quite sure what the huge rush is, but Robin’s expression tells him it’s serious.

“What is happening, Rob, why am I hurrying?” He asks desperately, screeching around the last corner.

“You rejected him, It’s going to take hold even faster now!”

Steve feels like throwing up, he presses his foot down even harder.

“I didn’t though. I didn’t say anything!”

“I don’t think it matters,” Robin says, flinging open the passenger door.

Steve follows, hopping up the porch steps and through the back door just behind her.

Her gasp doesn’t bode well. “Oh no.”

He pushes past her, into Eddie’s room. 

“Holy shit… Eddie!”

Eddie’s curled up on his side facing them in the door, paler than even an hour ago, chest barely moving.

There’s thick thorny vines snaking out of his face. two out his mouth, one out his right nostril, all three covered in beautiful, bloody white roses. 

The blooms do their best to cover his face, but his scrunched brow can still be seen.

“Eddie..” Steve whispers, reaching for his cheek.

He doesn’t touch him however, Robin’s voice startling him from down the hall, “Hello? Yes, Hi, I need an ambulance please, it’s thorns!”

Steve doesn’t know what to do.

He wants to yank the stems out, he wants to pick Eddie up and run him to the hospital himself.. But he’s frozen. 

All he can do is stare down at the slowly decreasing rate of movement of Eddie’s chest, and listen as the sirens get closer.

—

He’s in a coma. 

The beeping has been sounding in Steve’s head for weeks now, sat at Eddie’s bedside.

The vines are gone, held back by medication, but it’s only prolonging the inevitable.

“I hate you.” Steve lies.

The scratching in his throat is getting stronger.

🙃🙃🙃🙃

this is it!! the last day of Angsty August!! i can't believe i've posted something for every single day this month, holy shit

i'd say i'm not going to do this ever again, but i want to write something for every day in @steddie-spooktober so i'll see y'all then 😅

see the collection on tumblr | on AO3!

[heartbreakprincehbk]

Lucky (Kerry Von Erich x Reader)

Words: 2401

Summary: Requested by anon! Reader isn't into Valentine's Day, but Kerry insists on giving her a surprise Valentine's Day date at home. Thanks for the request, hope y'all enjoy!

*images from pinterest

“Any plans for Valentine’s Day tomorrow?” You looked up briefly in mild annoyance and had to remind yourself it wasn’t the grocery store clerk’s fault that they happened to be the third person to ask you that this week.

“No.” You said, giving a stiff smile as you gave them the cash for your items. 

“Yeah, I understand. This time of year is no fun single.” They said, continuing the conversation as they counted out your cash. You debated whether it was worth it to correct them before deciding to keep your mouth shut. “Well, have a great day anyways.” You mumbled something of the same and grabbed your groceries, purposefully looking away from the big Valentine’s display of candies and flowers on your way out of the store.

It wasn’t that you hated love, or even that you were single, it all just seemed kind of pointless. A big over-commercialized competition to make everyone feel bad as though they had to quantify their love with big expensive displays of affection. You simply believed that showing your love in other ways every other day of the year meant more than a big show one day of the year.

Besides, with Valentine’s Day falling on a Saturday, you were more than certain your boyfriend, Kerry Von Erich, was going to be slamming other men into the wrestling mat. You were used to that sort of thing, and it was much worse not having him around on Christmas or Thanksgiving. It was nearly impossible to complain; you knew it bothered him more than you from the pained look in his puppy dog eyes every time he had to leave. You did your best not to make him feel any worse about it. You could handle one Valentine’s Day alone compared to those.

Kerry knew you weren’t a big fan of Valentine’s Day. The very first one you spent together, Kerry had given you a dozen roses, a giant teddy bear, and chocolates, and while you thanked him, you very quickly let him know your preferences. 

“You don’t have to spend all that money on me, it’s not a big deal.” To say he was confused was an understatement.

“Is this a test to make sure I actually still buy you gifts next Valentine’s Day?” Kerry checked. 

“No!” You giggled. “I just don’t think it’s necessary to make a big deal out of one day and waste money.” You hoped he got the message. Really, just being with Kerry was a gift of its own. 

Now, another Valentine’s Day was upon you. So far so good as you woke up with no fanfare. Kerry had already gotten up and was working out in the garage as per usual. When you finally made it downstairs to make some breakfast, Kerry made his appearance. He froze when he saw you.

“Good morning,” you greeted him. He hesitated, looking you over like you were a word puzzle he was trying to figure out. Eventually, he was able to speak. 

“Hey–oh, good morning. So hey, baby, uh…so, my mom and Mike wanted to take you to lunch today.” He explained somewhat awkwardly. You frowned a little.

“But I just saw her for lunch yesterday. She didn’t mention it.” You said. Kerry scratched his head, avoiding your gaze and giving a half-shrug.

“Yeah, uh…well, I think it was last minute. Maybe, uh…Mike’s idea.” You frowned a little. “I gotta shower and go meet Kev. My mom said she would pick you up around 1 pm.” Your frown deepened.

“Okay.” You said, smiling slightly when he pressed a kiss to the side of your head on his way out of the kitchen. 

Doris was right on time with Mike in tow. The three of you went into town to the local deli, where Mike proceeded to take much longer than normal to eat his sandwich. 

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked him. Normally, Mike inhaled his food in three seconds. He looked panicked at your question and took a big bite of his food, prolonging his response.

“I’m fine. Why?” He asked, eyes shifting. You laughed a little. “I’m not acting weird.” From the corner of your eye, you saw Doris shaking her head.

“I didn’t say you were acting weird, but I’m wondering if I need to go complain about your sandwich because normally it would have been gone by now.” You said casually, smiling as Mike’s eyes grew even more panicked.

“No, no! It’s uh, good. Really. I’m just…trying to eat slower. You know, um…avoid choking.” You were biting back a laugh. “Um. Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Mike.” Doris reprimanded. 

“It’s okay.” You said, smiling. “No, I’m just planning on catching up on cleaning and maybe I’ll treat myself to a hot bath and tea or ice cream or something. I know Kerry has his show; if it were closer I would be there.”

“You know, it’s been nice weather the last few days for February. I haven’t had to worry about the plants freezing.” Doris said suddenly with a smile. You nodded, listening pleasantly to her latest tale of trying to keep her vegetable garden alive. 

After lunch you assumed you would all go separate ways, until Mike blurted out. “Uh, Y/N, I was gonna meet Kev at the record store down the street. Do you want to come?” You frowned a little.

“I thought Kerry was meeting Kevin somewhere today?” Mike swallowed.

“Oh, uh…maybe, maybe earlier for a second, but Kev said he was free this afternoon.” 

Your mind was turning. Had Kerry lied to you? You did your best to hide your thoughts as you said goodbye to Doris and walked with Mike to the record store. 

You were positive Mike sifted through every record in that store, but you knew how much music meant to him, so you said nothing and waited patiently, flipping through a stack on your own here and there. You noticed after a while he was hanging on to an Eagles record. 

“Is that a good one?” You asked. Mike shrugged shyly.

“I’ve had my eye on it for a while.” You smiled and took it from his hands.

“My treat. Come on,” his eyes stretched wide. 

“What? Really? But Y/N, you don’t…”

“Tell me if it’s any good.” You insisted as he followed you to the checkout line. “You know, you’ve shown me some great stuff already. I always go to you if I want something new.” You smiled at the way the youngest brother averted his gaze with a bashful chuckle, his cheeks already turning red. Right as you were paying, Kevin walked in the door. 

“Hey you two. Mike, what did you find this time?” Mike excitedly showed his record to Kevin who nodded in approval, before he looked at you. “C’mon, you two. Let’s get you home, Y/N.” He seemed to be in a hurry; that made sense due to the brothers having a wrestling show a town over that night. 

You wanted to ask Kevin about Kerry, but you knew it wasn’t really Kevin’s place or fault if Kerry was lying to you. Was it possible that he had met someone else, was he using the holiday to woo some new girl, maybe a fan he had met? Suddenly, the idea of Kerry waking you up with a dozen roses sent a longing pang through your heart, but you pushed the thought away. You would simply ask Kerry later. 

For now, you focused on the moment you had with Kevin and Mike, laughing in the car together about the last time Ric Flair was in town and the less than welcoming reception he had received, and how Kevin had nearly taken the win and trying not to give into the disappointed feeling creeping up on you.

“See you boys,” you said as Kevin’s truck pulled up in front of your house. “Good luck tonight, Kev. Enjoy that record, Mike!” They both waved and you sighed a little, walking up towards the sure-to-be empty house. The sun was beginning to set ever so slightly, the sky growing more orange and casting shadows over the lawn. Now alone, you allowed yourself to feel crest-fallen. 

You pushed your key reluctantly into the lock, resigning yourself to the evening you had described earlier, only to stop once the door swayed open. In the distance, you could hear faint music playing. You listened for a moment, frowning in confusion. It was a cheesy ballad—Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.” The lights were off, and you made your way towards the kitchen, where the music was loudest and a hint of warm light was spilling into the hallway.

“Kerry?” You called, gasping at what you saw. Kerry was standing waiting next to the dining table, fighting a big smile, his chin raised and hands behind his back. He was wearing jeans and an apron designed to look like a tuxedo with nothing underneath. The table was covered in a white table cloth and at the center was a big vase of cascading roses, along with more scattered rose petals and two dinner plates. Candles were everywhere, from the table to the kitchen counters, and even a few tea lights on the ground.

“Kerry! What is all of this?” You demanded, frozen on the spot, laughing at his apron. An overwhelming sense of happiness, love, and surprise filled you as you looked from him to the area surrounding you.

“I cooked dinner.” He explained, as if he were discussing the weather, laughing finally as you laughed.

“But why? Kerry, you should be halfway to Tyler right now for the show!” His grin widened.

“Yeah, I know. But Kev’s covering for me; he’s gonna wrestle the tag match and take my spot in the main event too.” 

“What! Why?” You repeated. Kerry laughed again as if you were missing the point and walked closer, wrapping his large arm over the top of your shoulders to pull you closer and kiss the top of your head. 

“You sure do ask a lot of questions.” He noted into your hair, making you chuckle. “Because you’re important and I love you.” He grabbed your hand and led you to the table, pulling out your chair for you to sit before sitting across from you.

“Kerry…” you breathed, looking down at the plate. It was a very impressive looking chicken Parmesan on a bed of pasta. “This looks amazing.” He smiled.

“Thank you. Just don’t look at the sink.” You giggled, imagining a mountain of dishes and utensils. “I’ve been practicing with mom the last two weeks. I think it turned out perfect this time—the first time the chicken was too tough. Anyway, I think I’ve nailed it now.” You were blown away by the effort; Kerry could cook simple and remedial dishes, but an entire entree was surprising. “Try it and tell me what you think.”

He seemed to be waiting to take a bite of his own food until you took yours. You stared at his anxious face as you took the first bite.

“Kerry, this is so good. Wow. You’re definitely gonna have to make this again.” He was back to glowing from your praise. “But, I mean, I still don’t understand why.” His smile softened.

“I know you always said you don’t want a big deal made out of Valentine’s Day and not to fuss over you, but…I can’t help it. I love you, Y/N. I want to do these things. You always said you don’t want me to buy anything, or go out anywhere, so I decided the best way to show you how much I love you is to treat you at home.” 

“And your mother and Mike? Were they in on it too?” Kerry laughed.

“I asked them to hold you up for as long as they could to give me time to decorate and cook.” Suddenly, everything made sense–Mike taking his time eating, dragging you through every corner of the record store, Doris trying to keep your mind off of Valentine’s Day, even Kevin. Suddenly you wondered how you missed all the signs. 

“And you didn’t actually go to meet Kevin.” He looked almost sheepish.

“No…I went to buy the flowers and everything else I needed. But I couldn’t tell you that.” You laughed, shaking your head at how silly your prior worries suddenly seemed. 

“I’m a little embarrassed, but…I was afraid you lied about meeting Kevin because you were meeting someone else and spending the day with them.” You admitted. Rather than getting angry or defensive or even offended, Kerry only looked confused. 

“What? I’d never do that to you, baby. I just wanted to surprise you. I’ve been trying to plan this out for weeks now, I think since Christmas.” A feeling of utter peace and contentment filled you. How lucky were you?

“Oh, Kerry…this is perfect. This is everything I could have wanted. Thank you.” You smiled, and he reached across the table to grab your hand with his much larger one. 

“No, thank you. I just wanted to make sure you were treated right on Valentine’s Day. Because I’m here, and as long as I’m here, you will be.” 

“And every other day?” You teased, laughing. Kerry grinned broadly, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles. 

“Especially every other day.” He promised. “Boy, cooking really gets you hungry.” He said as he picked up his fork again, making you laugh. “I rented a movie too for after, and maybe we can make some ice cream floats. Oh! I’ve been meaning to tell you, the funniest thing happened the other day. The last time Ric Flair came to town, he had a rough time. There was a kid chewing gum in the front row, and he didn’t like Flair, so he took the gum…” 

You listened enthusiastically to Kerry telling the story, despite the fact you had already heard the tale from Kevin. Instead, you settled into your chair and picked up your fork, focusing on the sparkle in Kerry’s eyes, the way the glow of the candles warmed his handsome features as the flames danced, the way his perfectly tousled curls framed his face. Your cozy little kitchen felt warmer than ever and so full of love that it radiated from every nook and cranny. Really, how lucky could you be?