#f: jam jar

[almostfoxglove]

ONE NIGHT EARLY

a secret santa surprise for @talaok ! ✨ as part of @pedrostories' #pedrostoriesgift24 event ✨

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Joel Miller x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 2.2k | CW: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, brief reference to canon-typical violence / danger / the end of the world, but you're safe.

SUMMARY: You vow to find out where Joel hides his Christmas gifts while he's away on patrol.

read on ao3 | get notifications | masterlist

It has to be here somewhere.

In the three years since you moved in with Joel—hell, even in the two years before that—you have never found your Christmas present before the day. The man’s determined, sworn to his secrecy. Takes great pride in catching you snooping around, digging, scurryin’, as he once muttered under his breath, shaking his head with that charm and smirk you can’t help but fall for. Every year, you swear you’ll find it, and Joel just crosses his arms with a shrug, cheek dimpled and eyes dark with affection, and tells you good luck, darlin’, confident you won’t.

This year, though. This year will be different because for the whole week leading up to Christmas, Joel is away with Tommy on patrol and you have the house to yourself. Seven days of freedom to pry and stick your nose where it probably doesn’t belong.

It takes you two days to tear the house apart. Every dish yanked from his cupboard, every shirt and worn pair of jeans thrown from the closet, every pocket turned out—you flip the mattress and unbundle his socks and rip the covers off all the couch cushions and find fuck all. One old, oxidized penny. Dust bunnies, dryer lint, wood shavings. Spent matches, a bullet case. A fossilized receipt robbed of its printed contents.

You spend two more going through everything again. The place is a dump; when Ellie swings by to borrow his guitar she lifts one eyebrow at you from the doorway, weary of the tornado you’ve left scattered across the first floor. Says, “Good to know four days is all it takes for you to lose your shit.”

“I’m not losing my shit,” you say, one hand waving dismissively as you climb the stairs. 

Quick on your heels she mutters, “Whatever you say, grandma,” just loud enough for you to hear. 

When she’s gone, you take a deep breath. The living room is a slaughter, more disastrous than the aftermath of any raiders or weather event. Couch cushions stand mountainous and stripped naked, the carpet’s rolled up against one wall, all the charcoal and half-spent logs have been scraped from the fireplace onto the floor. You’ll admit that might not have been strictly necessary, but you’ve looked everywhere, checked everything, and uncovered zilch. No gifts. And at the very least, Joel has—with his handsome, freckled, silvered face proud and smiling—conceded that his hiding spot is in the house. Doesn’t stash nothing at Tommy’s or in Ellie’s garage. It’s here. Somewhere. Driving you up the goddamn wall.

It’s not like you even know what you’re looking for, but you’ll know when you see it—of this you are sure.

Room by room, you reassemble the house, shuffling all the knick-knacks you’ve each cautiously assembled in this bizarre second chance at a life into their proper positions. His carvings are your favorites, and you rehome them on their shelves with care. You slide the few photographs each of you has into line on the mantle, behind the string lights. It ain’t the same as the world that for nearly thirty years has been dead and gone, but now and then you get flickers of that long-absent comfort. The day the Christmas lights go up in Jackson. The snowmen built by your neighbor’s kids in the street. Jars of homemade strawberry jam. 

Ellie and Joel playing guitar, his deep timbre humming along to her clumsy chords. 

The tight squeeze of your chest when his boots croak the porch and you know he’s finally home. 

The softness of his face first thing in the morning, scarred and weathered, kind. All the long tresses of his graying hair slumped out of place.

As you restore the house’s comfort and clutter over the shrinking days of his absence, you recheck and recheck and recheck and continue to come up empty. At night in the black veil of your shared bedroom, you sleep on his side of the bed with your face crushed in his pillow, breathing him in. 

On the 24th, you wake prepared to wave the white flag when he returns in the evening. You’re going to pout about it, but you’ll give in. Surrender to the superiority of his stupid, squirrelling mind, and admit once and for all that he’s bested you. You have no fucking clue where he hides his gifts. He wins. But you sulk as the day bleeds by, and more than once catch yourself affixed with a frown as you trudge through the crunch of Jackson’s snow-packed streets. As you groom the horses due for the next patrol shift and eat your dinner in the mess hall across from folks you’re only half listening to as they regale you with tales of their day, too distracted by the scrape of spoons against bowls and the emptiness of your hands.

Greedy, that’s what you’re being. Wanting all of him for yourself. You just miss him. You hate when patrol stretches this long, leaving you alone with your cloying worry.

After the sun has set and bowls have emptied, Jackson goes blue. All the snow piled to frame the gravel roads glitters with fresh frost and ice. On your way back to the house, you watch your shadow slide and flicker as you pass beneath the warmth of streetlamps. Someone down the road has a window open, letting the notes of their piano ribbon through the air. 

Even with all the lights and the chatter that tonight could bring fresh snow to the valley, you can’t help but feel a hollowness that you’ve only managed to shake when Joel’s around and the two of you are alone. It’s not all the time, but it happens—a magic you’d believed impossible before you stumbled across this Eden half-dead and were brought inside. Impossible until you met him, and everything latched into place. 

You’ve loved before. Almost got married once, in the world that’s gone. But there’s no comparing how it felt to fall slowly, clumsily into Joel. 

You’re not sure when he’s due to return tonight. Hopefully soon.

Shedding layers as you tread into the hollow house, you light a weakling’s fire in the hearth you know he’ll tease you for, then ascend to your bedroom to change, flicking the light on upstairs so he knows, whenever he gets back, that you’re home. Waiting for him, empty-handed but no less relieved. But as you cross the gold-lit bedroom, a floorboard near the foot of the bed wheezes strangely. This whole house croaks and groans just like everything in Jackson—that sure ain’t new—but this sound is different. You’re not sure you’ve heard it before. Not sure you’ve ever stepped in this exact place.

A grin slips sharp across your face at the smell of victory. You kick back the corner of the rug to bring your heel down hard against the board beneath it, and pop. Up comes the plank, perfect as a seesaw, revealing the black cavern beneath. 

In the shadowed hideaway, a small box lies in the dark beneath the floor.

There it is.

But all the world beyond this room, this box, disappears the moment you set it in your palm.

You don’t hear the porch steps’ announcement, nor the turn of the latch. You don’t hear the squealing door or how the heavy footsteps soften as he removes his boots to leave outside. Not even your name, often intoxicating on his tongue, reaches you in the bedroom—nor when he repeats it on the stairs. 

You’re too busy staring at what you’ve found after all you’re searching.

Then Joel’s in the doorway behind you, and you wake from what you’ve just now begun to believe must be some strange dream.

“Stubborn,” comes his voice, and at the sound you smack the box against your chest to hide it as you whirl around, still on your knees. Stupid you know. Useless. He can see the rug peeled back and the hole cut out of the floor, slender as a piano key. He knows you’ve won.

Broad in the door’s wooden frame, pink-cheeked and snug in his leather coat, Joel stands with the frosting of fresh snow clinging to his hair. He’s been growing it out, to your great pleasure, letting all his silver and curls go free. “I didn’t—” you start to say, but the words thin out and crumble. Your head’s not on quite straight, your heart not yet settled. Eyes still nickel round with shock.

You hadn’t considered how he might react if you succeeded. Maybe he’ll be mad. Take it back. 

But as you stare up at him, all bambi, Joel shakes his head and one snow-dotted curl slips out from the shell of his ear. As he rights it, his scarred hand rising, you see the dirt under his nails in the warm light. The stain on the knee of his jeans. You see too his lips, plush and touched by winter’s aridity, as they twitch in one corner, curling into his cheek. Curling up. Smiling as his eyes hold yours, not mad. Not shy. He’s been inside long enough now that there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the color in his cheeks might even be a blush. 

“Are you mad?” you ask, your voice soft enough to call a whisper.

He shakes his head again, steps over the threshold, and amber light from the lamp falls over him like Midas, turning him from man to gold. One step more and his mouth pulls wider, cuts that wink in his cheek you can’t help but stare at. “Course not,” he says gently. “Knew you were lookin’. Y’can have it one night early.”

It probably doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re surprised to discover you’re hoping as you swallow hard, blinking some of the shock from your eyes. He’s here; you ought to get up and hug him—welcome him home, your person here, safe and whole—but you’re too scared to move. Terrified that any flinch will make the box and its contents disappear. 

“Is this for me?”

Wry, he rolls his eyes. “Think you know it is.”

“I feel bad,” you say. “I got you a shirt.”

He’s generous enough to chuckle, and the low, earthy sound of it strikes flames along the column of your neck. “Could use a new shirt,” he says, smirking a little. “This one needs a wash.”

“Shut up,” you chide, but the words come out weak. He’s not allowed to joke right now because if you laugh, you might start to cry.

“Darlin’,” he says too softly. That’s the tone that makes honey of your insides, cruel in the gentle way it asks you to let him in.

Though your vision starts to puddle, you wrestle the feeling back. “S’pretty.”

The slightest nod. Then he unzips his coat to lay over the armchair in the corner of the room and you watch him, pinned to the floor despite the ache in your knees. “Was hopin’ you’d think so,” he admits with his back to you, the blades and muscles in his shoulders and back sliding gracefully beneath his flannel like waves on a lake. Antithetical to the thunder of your heart, Joel moves with a patience you can’t quite believe. In no rush at all, like you’re not holding what you’re holding in your shaking hands. Like some little band of metal doesn’t mean what it did before the world bit the dust and fell away.

The question sits like an icicle on your tongue, slowly melting, pooling behind your teeth. 

Joel lumbers back, the soreness of his body just barely visible in his bow-legged stride, to sit on the edge of the bed just behind you. The mattress squeaks. One hand cards through his hair. Slow is his next breath. Steady. But on the exhale, you swear you hear the tiniest shake, a tiny tremble. 

Realization strikes down at you like lightning: electric and tingling, zipping skull to spine to fingertips, blinding and white. He’s nervous. 

Which means the ring in your hand isn’t just a ring.

Lamblike, you force yourself to your feet and the mattress mouses as you sink against his side. Igneous is his body against yours—such a familiar warmth. Rigid and walled to all but a few. Open to you, in moments like these, when he lets you glimpse the whole of him in his eyes and you swear you might be capable of reading the thoughts straight from his mind. Joel nudges his arm harder to yours, and you see the question coming before it slips from his tongue. You see it brewing in the gilt of his eyes just as clearly as you hear your own answer ricochet in your head. 

You don’t cut him off, jump to yes. Instead you lower your hands from their hold against your chest at last, letting the box sit in your lap, open to his regard. Evening lamplight makes ice of the clear stone set squarely on its ring, and the heat of his breath kisses your cheek as he leans in to mumble,

“Y’gonna make me get down on one knee?”

dividers by @saradika-graphics!

NOTE: I am officially moving away from tag lists as they've gotten lengthy (thank you for that <3) so please follow @foxglovenotifs and turn on notifications to get alerts for future updates!

[chessholic]

The One With

Comfort

ー

　　　　 F R I E N D S

X

R E A D E R

　　　 　ー

Summary: Your boyfriend was a jerk and he broke up with you. Fortunately you had your friends and all of them helped you in their own ways.

ー　

Author's Note: I will forever love Friends, my favourite comfort show. I have a few fics written about Joey, I could maybe publish them. Let's see, I hope you enjoy this.

ー

You stumbled into Monica's and Rachel's apartment.

To simply put it you looked disheveled. Your eyes were slightly red and puffy, hair a mess and your clothes didn't match your jacket or shoes, which was unusual.

You cursed slightly when you could see six pairs of eyes staring at you, of course they were all here. If they were not in the coffee shop they were here.

"Y/N?", Monica asked rushing towards you from the kitchen.

"What happened?", she asked worriedly and brushed your messed up hair behind your ears. Monica also helped you out of your jacket and helped you to sit on the couch.

Chandler was sitting on the other side and you could see he was holding back some sarcastic comments about your current state.

You were slightly glad, you always found him funny, but this was definitely not the moment.

Phoebe had been sitting on the floor in front of the television. She had her guitar and was writing down something, probably a new song for next week.

Central Perk was in for a treat.

The song title was 'My mother was killed by a drug dealer, my mother was a drug dealer'.

Joey was in the kitchen sitting at the table finishing off something from the fridge it was apparently a jar of jam, maybe blueberry jam. However his eyebrows were scrunched in worry.

Rachel was sitting around the table too with Ross, both looking slightly amazed at Joey's eating, that wasn't probably his first jar of jam.

They were probably leaving to go on a date soon, because they were all dressed up. It made your heart ache.

"He left me", sob escaped your mouth shortly after your confession.

The apartment was filled with different reactions.

Monica was first to close you into a tight embrace petting your hair.

"I am so sorry, we could bake cookies today and burn some of his belongings?", your friend suggested while trying to calm you down. She was quick to offer you a tissue box.

"He took them with his new girl when he came and broke up with me", you cried still distraught about the fact he had cheated and moved on so fast like you never existed.

"Let's burn him instead, yea?", Chandler proposed and scooted closer to you rubbing your back slightly awkwardly, you knew it wasn't his expertise to console someone if sarcasm was off the table.

You let out a watery laugh muttering a quiet thanks to him.

"Yeah, we don't need to go with Ross, he was anyways taking us to some lecture about... Rocks", Rachel joined walking towards the living room and stole you from Monica. While Ross choked up.

"They are not rocks, they are... Well technically they are..."

Rachel hugged you tightly while she gave a deathly glare at Ross shutting him up.

"I am sorry, that jerk didn't deserve you. Let's go shopping some day, okay? We can use my discount", she took your face in her hands and you nodded eyes shining.

In your sad tears had mixed happy tears, you had amazing friends. You couldn't help, but feel thankful.

"My grandmother's taxi can fit a body in the trunk", Phoebe said suddenly getting up to give you a hug.

"Noted, don't piss off Pheebs, ever", Chandler said while others didn't even know what to say. Everyone however had the same question in mind.

"We can also make a song together, I could also use some inspiration and break up songs are hits usually. Especially when the ex was a total asshole", Phoebe stated giving you a hug before returning to her song writing place.

Phoebe turned the paper and made some notes, you couldn't wait to hear what the song was going to be.

"Thank you everyone, I really appreciate you and your help", you thanked them from the bottom of your heart.

"That's what friends are for", Monica stated and everyone nodded agreeing to what she said.

"We are there to help and for each other"

"I can take you on a tour in the museum someday, at least someone appreciates the rocks here", Ross suggested and bitterly muttered the rest of his sentence making Rachel give him another glare which Ross returned.

"Enough with the bickering love birds, I am getting PTSD", Chandler said jumping from the sofa and getting the couples jackets, before throwing them to the owners and ushering the couple towards the door.

"Go, go, out, off you go", Chandler ushered not letting Rachel or Ross protest.

"We got this, have fun with the rocks", Chandler said before slamming the door closed. He looked pleased with himself.

You clapped and he bowed, "That was rather impressive", you confessed.

"Rachel probably hasn't ever left so quickly to anywhere, could be the first time they are on time somewhere", Monica pondered for a moment before heading back to the kitchen.

"You relax and I will prepare the cookie dough. This situation needs cookie dough and ice cream", Monica ordered pointing at you to stay put.

"I might have eaten the ice cream", Joey said quietly with a sheepish look on his face when he avoided looking at Monica's face.

"I will go get more, because I trust myself more than Joey to go get the ice cream", Chandler stated pulling his jacket on.

He quickly came to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"I will go get all your favourite ice cream, hold on, although I know it will be difficult without my charming presence and looks"

Phoebe let out a snort earning a glare from Chandler.

"Really needed to twist the knife", he muttered before exiting the apartment.

You quietly sat on the sofa. Phoebe was writing and Monica preparing everything comforting food the world new in the kitchen.

Suddenly the sofa dipped, Joey had sat next to you.

Joey had a small amount of jam on his face, it wasn't much compared to the last time, but still.

You took a tissue you hadn't yet used and cleaned his face. After that he opened his arms to welcome you into a warm embrace. You cuddled next to Joey without a moment of hesitation, pressing your head against his chest you could feel his warmth and heart beat making you relax.

"Finally I got you all to myself", Joey mumbled quietly pressing a small kiss onto your hair.

"I am sorry, you deserve so much more"

Joey's heart was aching for his friend, he would do anything in his power to make you feel better. He would maybe even share his pizza with you...

Maybe a slice.

Yes, a slice was fine.

ー

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 4

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Did I write an angstier version of this chapter and then rewrite the last half entirely because y'all deserve a fluffy read? Yes, yes I did. Thank you for all your wonderful ideas! I've got them all lined up for future chapters hehehe So don't be blaming me for the heartache you're inflicting upon yourselves XD Muah!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Swearing, suggestive language, protective Jake

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist

“You have a what?” Jake exclaims, nearly choking on his coffee.

“A date,” you repeat, smiling giddily at both him and Bradley. “We met at pub night last week and we’ve been texting.”

“Texting?” Jake raises his eyebrows skeptically. He looks over at Bradley as though he expects him to express an opinion, but Bradley just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Be careful,” your brother says, returning his attention to the plate of scrambled eggs before him.

You snort. “In what way?”

“In all ways,” Jake chimes in, clearly annoyed that Bradley has nothing else to add. “Guys are dicks so keep your guard up.”

You give Jake a humorous look. “Not all guys,” you say.

Jake nods at you. “All guys.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “This isn’t my first date, Jake.”

“Just work under the assumption that all guys are dicks, alright?” he says. “That way, when he turns out to be a dick, you won’t be shocked.”

You set down the jar of jam you’re holding and let out a sigh. Since the incident with couch girl, Jake has gone out with three different women, which, to be fair, is normal for him. Still, you’re just about done pining over your brother’s best friend, whose signals you’ve clearly misread. If guys are dicks, then Jake Seresin is exhibit A. “He’s actually super sweet,” you say, taking your toast out of the toaster.

“Don’t be fooled,” Jake mutters.

Bradley grimaces as he looks up at you. “He’s not wrong.”

“I have dated plenty of nice guys,” you say. “Just because the two of you are assholes to women, doesn’t mean all men are.”

Bradley claps a hand to his chest. “Me?” he cries in disbelief.

Jake puckers his lips and gives you a sheepish grin without disputing your claim.

“I’m not going into this with your negative energy,” you say, waving your arms at the two of them. “Because maybe he’s nothing like you.”

“One could hope.” Jake shrugs.

Bradley eyes him dubiously. “Just be careful,” he repeats.

“Don’t worry, it’s just dinner and a movie,” you say, bringing your breakfast to the table.

“What movie are you going to go see?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “We’re going back to his place so probably something on Netflix.”

Jake sets down his fork and knife and stares at you. “You’re going where?”

You ignore Jake’s outburst and take a bite out of your toast. “I’ll be home late,” you say, mostly to Bradley. “So, don’t wait up.”

Jake stares at you. “You can’t just go to some random dude’s home,” he says.

You cock your head at him inquisitively. “Interesting advice coming from someone who brings home random girls almost daily.”

Jake presses his lips together and exhales moodily. “That’s different.”

Bradley smirks, eyeing him expectantly.

“How?” you ask.

Jake rises from his seat and lifts his coffee cup. “Do whatever you want,” he says. “Bradshaw, let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

Bradley gives you a resigned sort of look and shoves one last piece of toast into his mouth. “I’m driving,” he says with his mouth full.

“You better not be blocking me in!” you yell at their backs as they head for the front door.

…

That night, your date drops you off at the end of your driveway, leaning in for a kiss before you exit his car. You give him a quick peck and a tight smile before stepping out of the vehicle, knowing that, despite the evening having been pleasant enough, you’re probably not going to pursue the relationship further.

He asks about seeing you later in the week and you peek back through his car window and respond with a polite maybe because perhaps the guy deserves another chance. You walk up to the porch as he drives away, and then try the door before searching for your keys in the dark.

The door is unlocked, so you walk in, flicking on the light, and the first thing you see is Jake as he steps away from the window facing the driveway and places his hands on his hips.

“He didn’t want to walk you to the door?” he asks sternly.

You grimace at him. “Why are you here?”

“Bradley had to stay late tonight so I came to make sure you got home alright.”

You blink at him coolly. “And that involves spying on me?”

“If I were spying on you, you wouldn’t know about it,” Jake retorts, starting for the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“I just came from dinner,” you remind him, taking off your heels.

You follow him into the kitchen, dropping your purse on the floor as you go. You’re suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jake opens the refrigerator and starts taking out ingredients for a meal while you walk past him and land on the couch in the living room. Jake cranes his neck to look at you over the island. “I’m making spaghetti,” he calls.

“Knock yourself out,” you reply, closing your eyes.

You hear Jake step around the island and enter the living room, and then you feel the depression of the couch as he plants himself down by your feet. You open your eyes again. “Yes?” you say.

Jake watches you blankly for a second before finally blurting out, “How’d it go?”

You furrow your eyebrows, still confused by his interest in your dating life. You pull your knees up so that your feet don’t keep sliding into him and pretend like you aren’t at all intrigued by his question. “Fine,” you respond nonchalantly.

Jake nods although he doesn’t look entirely satisfied with your answer. “Still think he’s nice?”

You eye him wryly. “Very.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Too nice?”

You make a face at him. “What’s too nice?”

Jake shrugs. “Boring.”

You give him a flat look. “This perspective explains so much,” you say, pointing at him reproachfully.

Jake laughs. “Girls don’t like nice guys.”

“I like nice guys!” you exclaim, sitting up with renewed energy.

Jake eyes you skeptically. “Sure, you do.” His gaze sweeps over your face in a slightly provocative manner and you get the sense again that he might be into you. And this possibility sends a rush through your body that makes your head spin. However, you remind yourself that, if this were, in fact, the case, Jake wouldn’t be going out and sleeping with a new woman every other night, because that would be counterintuitive. Besides, you are getting over him, anyway. You are well on your way to recovery.

You shake your head at him and lean your back into the armrest of the couch.

“You dressed up for him,” he notes, meeting your gaze as you glance up at him.

“Would you rather I undressed for him?” you ask pointedly.

Jake blinks at you uncomfortably. He looks like he might be sick. “Don’t joke about that,” he says, rubbing his forehead anxiously.

“You started it.”

“I just meant ” – he sighs without looking at you – “I just meant, you look good.”

“Then just say that,” you retort. “Without being a dick about it.”

He turns to look at you with an apologetic sort of cringe contorting his features. “Guess I’m not a ‘nice’ guy,” he mutters, complete with air quotes.

You stare at him, wondering if he’s hinting at something. You kick him in the leg with your foot. “Don’t be weird.”

He chuckles. “Come on,” he says, rising from the couch. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But I want company,” he says with a slight whine, bending forward to grab your wrists and pull you up off the couch.

You let him lift you to your feet, your body crashing briefly into his while you find your balance. Jake releases you instantly and takes a step back, holding his hands up as though he doesn’t want to be held responsible for initiating the contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly.

You give him a look. “I said, don't be weird, Jake.”

…

Three weeks later, you’re sitting with Jake on a patio, waiting for Bradley to bring the three of you drinks from the bar.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say tentatively, making sure that Bradley is still inside the pub.

“Shoot,” Jake responds, downing the last of his beer.

“It’s about my boyfriend,” you say.

Jake cringes. “He’s your boyfriend now?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. We haven’t really formally established our relationship status.”

Jake nods. “And you want out?”

“What? No!”

“What’s the question, then?” Jake raises his eyebrows.

“It’s about the sex,” you say, stirring your drink with your straw to avoid looking at him.

“The what?” Jake exclaims, reaching for his empty glass of beer and bringing it to his mouth before realizing there is nothing left.

You clear your throat and glance up at him, slightly mortified. “It’s… it’s good, it’s just” –

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, leaping up from his seat as though your words have burned him. “I don’t want to hear about that!”

You give him a flat look. “Jake, I literally found you naked on my couch last month. The least you could do is give me some guidance.”

Jake squirms. “I’m not – I can’t,” he stammers. “I don’t think I can listen to this.”

“Why not?!”

Jake lets out a dramatic moan. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

“For advice on my sex life?” you hiss.

“Don’t you have friends?” Jake asks, dropping back into his seat.

“I need a guy’s opinion.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and gives his head a slight shake to indicate that he’s still not on board with this turn of events. “Don’t you have guy friends?”

You nod. “I do. And you’re one of them. Are you not?”

Jake stares at you defeatedly. “How detailed is this going to get?”

You glance over your shoulder to check on the crowd of people waiting for drinks at the bar, looking for your brother. You spot him nowhere near the counter, chatting up a stunning brunette, and resolve that you have at least fifteen minutes alone with Jake. You turn back to him and say, “That depends on how helpful you want to be.”

Jake whimpers. “I have no alcohol left.”

You roll your eyes. “Have mine,” you say, sliding your cocktail across the bistro table.

Jake takes the glass from you, his hand wrapping momentarily around yours before you let go. “Okay,” he says, taking a big gulp. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” you say with a hesitant sigh. “So, the thing is, he really wants to try” –

“Nope, no, nuh-uh,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Dude, I need your help!”

“You want my advice? Here it is,” he says, leaning into the table so suddenly that you jerk backward just to prevent a collision between your two faces. “Doesn’t matter what he wants to try if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“But it’s” –

Jake holds up a hand. “I don’t care what it is. If you’re sittin’ here talkin’ to me about it, it means you don’t want to do it.”

You stare at him, wondering when Jake Seresin had the opportunity to amass such profound wisdom. You furrow your eyebrows. “Even if it’s, like, supposedly a normal thing people do?”

Jake hooks his eyebrow; you’ve piqued his interest. “That’s what he told you?”

You nod slowly.

Jake lets out a long, heavy breath through his nose, his lips pressed tightly together as his jaw clenches. He studies your face with a look of concern. “You tell that asshole that the next time he pressures you into doing anything, he’s going to have to deal with me.” Jake takes another swig of your cocktail and then adds, “And your brother, of course.”

You grimace. “He’s not pressuring me. It just… was brought to my attention that there is a particular thing that we could be doing – that many people do – that we’re not currently doing – that… ugh, it would be so much easier if you just let me tell you what the thing is!”

Jake places a hand on your knee. “If you tell me what the thing is, I might hurl.” You groan in frustration while Jake pats your leg sympathetically. He shakes his head. “I knew this guy was gonna be a dick.”

Read Part 5

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[chronic-escapixt]

A Deal with the Devil (Part 2)

witch!Kai x Bennett!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, smut, dubcon, cnc kidnapping, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, fluffyish- aftercare, mean!Kai

word count: 2.7k

summary: the aftermath of a deal you made with a certain sociopath means you're his personal play thing

A profile like that of a grecian bust of the divine, pink lips that draw your attention with every biting word, each feature you know well enough to sculpt from memory yet you stare at him like it's your first time. 

Eyes a chaotic shade of stormy blue fit with a sinister glint when he catches you, lips curling upward into a smirk. The cocky bastard.

You fluster, a fleeting itch in the back of your throat makes you cough and you curl into the cool glass of the window, trying to focus on anything other than his presence. His chuckle reaches your ears even over the car radio. 

That's when you notice you’re getting further away from any familiar scenery or landmarks. All you can think about is if you’ll ever be seen alive again. It’s not like it’s completely unreasonable to assume the self-admitted sociopath is taking you to your final resting place. Not, of course, before torturing you to the content of his sadistic little heart. As of now, he seems to be most content with simply humiliating you.

You barely register the melodies of pop radio over the racing of your own heart. Kai mutters something about modern music being absolute garbage before flipping indiscriminately between the stations and turning it off altogether so that you sit in silence. 

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of an apartment door, his key in the lock but he keeps you pinned in place with his body, caged in from the side by his bicep. At this point, it’s comical, the idea of running. You tried that before, and you didn’t get far before he caught you. Whether he used the magic still clearly at his disposal or his brute strength alone, you were trapped and any resistance was futile at this point. 

The key turns and you audibly swallow the lump in your throat. He ushers you inside with a firm hand. The door shuts on what’s likely your best chance at survival and you watch as he places the keys on the ceramic holder. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

It’s a relatively nice place, small, but modern, oddly cozy. Not really the torture chamber you expected. 

“This is actually your place?” 

“According to my lease it is. What were you expecting, a subterranean lair? Or an abandoned laboratory?” he jeers at you with a short laugh. 

“Well, yes.. sort of, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

His smile falters, “do you actually think I’m some comic book villain?” 

“I like your place, Kai. I really do,” he glances skeptically, “it looks nice. I’m just confused as to why am I here?” 

There’s a pause. He doesn’t say anything. Then he claps his hands together like he just got an idea and brushes past you into the nearby kitchenette, sectioned off from the rest of the space by an island.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. Mi casa es su casa, so just make yourself at home.” Completely bulldozing over your question. just like Kai to keep you in the dark just to watch you squirm. 

He snatches a jar from the cupboard, immediately digging in by collecting the sweet jam on his fingertips. Your eyes follow the hypnotic path of his hand from the jar to his lips. That same hand that captured your body in the library, kneaded your flesh so firmly he surely left his  fingerprints in their wake. 

Dammit. you’re staring again. It’s beginning to be pathetic.

“..when.. can i.. go back to my home?” you ask with many pauses and marked hesitancy.  

He hums and ponders the idea while sucking the gooey berry preserves from each digit, “you can go… when I’m done with you.” His final word punctuated with the smacking of his lips. 

“What does that mean? I have a life, and people that care about me.. they’ll be worried if I don't come home…” 

Your words quiet to a whisper when you catch his gaze change into an icy glower. It seems you’ve struck a nerve, though unintentional, you can’t find your next ones fast enough to walk it back before he lashes back in contempt.

“Who? Bonnie and the gang? If they really cared, don’t you think they’d at least try to call and find out if you're still alive— let you know they’re coming to save you? I mean, Elena must’ve reunited with them by now and told them about your daring sacrifice.” 

It was clear as day that you wanted him all to yourself. There was nothing sacrificial about it, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your cellphone started to burn a hole in your pocket. It hasn’t wrung once since you left, nothing, not one notification from anyone.

“Maybe they think you’re dead already or here’s a thought, maybe you’re not as high on their list of priorities as you might think.”

His words cut deep, each laced with enough venom to paralyze you. Who could blame them if they didn't care? You were the one who was dumb enough to release Kai from his prison in the first place— unleash untold danger on your friends. You can say he tricked you and lied but maybe you chose to ignore the red flags. 

Despite everything, you’re still in love with him, and that’s a betrayal of your friends. 

He doesn’t love you or anyone, and if you’re honest with yourself, that’s the worst part.

“Look, I’m just saying we’re not so different. I know what it’s like to look like a failure in the eyes of everyone you care about, to want to prove yourself..” He’s tending to the wounds he just inflicted moments ago. 

“That's not true,” you mutter but even you don’t believe that. 

He gives a nonchalant shrug while cleaning his sticky hands with a damp rag, “whatever you say, princess. I personally think that with my guidance you could be a rather ruthless little witch. Then what everyone else thinks about you won't even matter.” 

Your head felt like it was spinning. “What are you saying?”

He leans forward, his nose nearly bumping yours across the counter, “Call me generous, but I feel like I could offer you so much more in this deal..”

“Kai.. I-”

“Oh, hold that thought, babe!” He looks down at his watch. “I'm cutting it really close.. I have to go.” He rounds the counter and throws on a nearby gray hoodie. 

“Where are you going?” You follow behind.

“I have.. something to take care of and I’ll probably be a while so don’t wait up for me. Oh, and in the meantime, there’s food in the cupboard if you get hungry, you can watch tv— there’s so many channels these days and maybe take a shower— clean yourself up so you can get out of those cum-soaked panties, hmm?” 

That last part made you self-conscious, rubbing your thighs together and feeling slick with the juices he drew from you in the library, that mixed with the cum he ruined your cunt with spilling into your panties as you speak. 

He moves fast, snatching his keys back from the ceramic holder as he heads for the door. 

“Kai—” you call out after him. 

He waves you off, shooting you a quick “buh-bye,” before slipping out, the door shutting in your face, the resounding click of the automatic lock trapping you. 

That’s when your phone vibrates. You eagerly pull it from your jacket pocket, only to find a junk notification. no word from Bonnie or the gang. Kai’s words echo in your mind. You debate calling her, but you can’t bring yourself to face her and let her know you’re willingly here with the devil so you shoot her a quick text instead at least letting her know you’re alright and not to worry.

You hop in the shower, not before putting your clothes in the wash. You throw on one of Kai’s t-shirts from his closet and curl up on the couch where you flip through the channels to find something to distract your ever-racing mind. You find one of those throwback channels and nod off to a marathon of Baywatch.

It's way past midnight when you’re jolted awake by the door opening. Kai hurries in and turns on all the lights. 

You get up and find him at the kitchen island where he has a bottle of champagne and searching the cabinets for the glasses. 

“C’mere, celebrate with me,” Kai waves you over. 

“Celebrate what?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool, still rubbing your eyes.

“I won,” he muses, placing the twin glasses in front of you.

“Won what?” 

“The merge, dummy,” he rolls his eyes.

You look down grimly, remembering the merge, and what that means, “So, Jo is..”

“No— no, Jo is fine. Luke on the other hand, is..”he clicks his tongue with the wave of his hand across his throat, “dead as a doornail, in fact.” His eyes momentarily go distant before resuming the task of finding the bottle opener. 

You’re confused, “what do you mean? you merged with Luke? but how? he’s not even—” 

Kai shrugs, “hey, I don’t know the logistics, but I do know that your precious Jo is still alive.. for the time being, and I can make my own magic, so I won’t need to siphon it outta of you. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” He opens the bottle and tops off your glass with sparkling wine.

“So, I guess you won’t need to keep me around anymore…” you try to sound relieved, but your eyes betray you. You won’t meet his, focusing only on the liquid swirling in your glass. You didn’t want to be his magic bag or hostage, but something about being near him again has made you miss the time you spent together and the intimacy you shared.

Kai smirks. “I did what everyone said I couldn’t.. and even after all they did to stop me, they couldn’t stop the inevitable and now I know they’re more afraid than ever.” 

You scoff, “Sure, if being feared is what you’re into then, congrats, you’re the new bigbad of Mystic Falls.” you raise your glass before downing the wine with one bitter swallow. 

“Well if I’m the new bigbad, what does that make you? The damsel not-really-in distress?” Kai extinguishes your attitude when he leans in closer, caging you against the island, the rasp of his voice dripping with sex, “You’ve known me long enough to understand I like being feared, especially by the likes of you. The more I mess with you the less you try to fight back. I think it's because some weird part of you craves it.” His eyes drink you in deeper than the wine, appreciating how sexy you looked with nothing but his t-shirt hanging on your body. 

In one motion he catches you off guard and you drop your glass, shattering it all over the kitchen tile as he scoops you up and places your ass on the countertop. Your shirt bunching up around your hips when you scramble back with a surprised whimper.

“Kai, what are you doing!”

“That wine was shitty. I need something sweet to take away the bitter taste on my tongue..” he growls like a feral animal, yanking you closer, closing in on your bare pussy, his trembling target.

“Any reason you’re not wearing any undies?” He cocks a brow. 

You bite your lip hard, the tickle of his breath already sending you into a hazy nervous ramble, “I don’t have any other clothes here and your boxers were too big. i-i just put my clothes in the wash.. they’re probably done so i’ll go put them on—” he grips you harder when you try to get up.

“That won’t be necessary.” His eyes hold an unbreakable focus.

Bold licks follow the length of your slit. You suck in a sharp breath. His warm tongue slides through your folds, working you up to a puffy elevated state of sensitivity. He’s just savoring you to his satisfaction before he really gets to work, parting and licking any arousal that already starts to leak from your little hole.

He thrusts his tongue inside you. Before you can even fool yourself that you have the strength to push him away, you’re cumming on his face, embarrassingly quickly because you’re still sensitive from his touch earlier. 

Kai is calculated with how he plays you, moving his face in a way that stimulates everything all at once. His nose rubbing your clitoris, alternating between sucking and licking up the mess you’re becoming, creating the sloppiest noises. 

You tremble at the onset of another high, no break in between them if his wicked tongue had anything to say about it. You latch onto his raven locks.

Gasping out his name only to be cut off by your own moans as he takes another. 

“Mhmm stappp! god, you’re such an ass-” your hand shoots out to push at him.

He peppers your inner thigh with open mouth kisses, spreading your slick across your quivering flesh, half his face drenched and glistening. His fingers pick up where his tongue left off. Two digits curling inside your cunt to begin a steady rhythm. 

“You agreed to be mine, remember? Or did that little fact already escape your empty head? I’ll do whatever I want with you.. meaning, if I want to eat you until you're just a puddle that I can slurp up with a straw, I will do that..”

Your clit has grown hard, swollen and darkened tempting him to nip at it with his teeth. The pain awakens something in you that makes the marble surface even more slippery, any protests devolve into indiscernible whimpers. 

“Oh stop that, you fuckin love it,” he growls, reaching up under your shirt to squeeze your breast. 

He sucks on your clit while fucking your cunt, making your head spin. You're way beyond overstimulated. Wound so tight the pain clouded your vision, his fingers reaching a bruising pace. You feel a sudden urgency inside you and shove at his head. 

“Nwait- wait, Kai! No—no, I can’t!” It lances through you, like electricity, or more like a dam breaking the way your release gushes against his face. You clamp your thighs around his head, truly losing track of whether you want him away or impossibly closer.

Kai finally pulls back with a satisfied grin while you catch your breath. He’s so pleased with himself and all you can manage was a mortified stare.

“Look at the mess you made..” he tsks, feigning disappointment yet so suddenly delicate with how he handles you.

“i- i didn’t mean to.. i told you to stop…i-i,” you stammer, still trembling all the way down to your toes. You pull the shirt over your exposed center.

He would have told you that you squirted and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen but he likes watching you panic. Your palpable humiliation is amusing. 

Kai tilts his head with a satisfied sigh, “you’re spent, let's get you to bed.” He hauls you into his arms and carries you back into the bedroom, not far from the kitchenette. deposits you in the middle of his bed and curls up beside you after carefully wiping you down with a damp rag. 

He's so caring, you almost believe the sweet nothings he cooes in your ear. Almost.

“are you gonna let me go…” you murmur in a hushed voice

Kai pulls you closer, tucks the loose curls behind your ear and hums, “nope, not on my to do list.”

“But you don't need me anymore..” you pout.

He cranes his neck to quietly admire you then whispers, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re not getting out of our deal that easily.”

“Oh god.. I've sold my soul to the devil,” you chuckle faintly and curl deeper into the comfort of his embrace while he tightens his arm around you.

“Shhs-shh, just get some rest.. you’re gonna need it.”

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Finding Masterlist here

Summary: After a failed engagement, you move back home and reconnect with your friends. Maybe, just maybe you can find love with someone you never expected.

Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Swearing, Cheating (Not Yoongi), Fighting, Protected/Unprotected Sex, Toxic Past Relationship,

Genre: Enemies(?) to Lovers, Neighbors to Lovers, Small Town romance. Hurt-Comfort, Slight Angst, Romance

SMUT!

Jungkook, Jimin, and Tae all stood around you as you held a small mason jar that was filled to the brim of jelly in your hands. You had spent all evening following your grandmother's recipe carefully. You had read through it so many times that you probably had it memorized before you even started cooking, but you were still careful and followed it step by step. You watch as each man smeared some red jam on a piece of your freshly baked bread that you made that morning. Chewing carefully, they looked thoughtful as they took in the flavors. They looked at each other. It was like they were having a silent conversation with their eyes that they only understood. You'll take it as a good sign.

“It's good,” Jimin said with a little awe in his voice.

“It's really good,” Jungkook said as he put more on his slice of bread and shoved it in his mouth.

“This is exactly what I was looking for, Y/N. How many different flavors do you think you can do?” Tae asked.

“I'm not sure,” you say. “Her stack of recipes is quite large.”

“Uh oh,” Jimin whispered, and all your eyes shot to look at him. “Yoongi's only member and president of his fan club is here.”

“I bet he's happy,” Tae says sarcastically.

You turn around, peeking around the corner, and see a pretty woman at the front of The Tannie Farms tent. She was playing with a strand of her hair as she leaned toward Yoongi, who was trying to be nice earlier and offered to watch the front so the guys could try your jam. You can feel your stomach drop while watching them. He didn't look interested, but that didn't stop the jealousy from kicking in.

You and Yoongi have done a good job at avoiding each other since the bathroom incident. He was still cordial and gave you a slight head nod if you ran into each other, but that was about it. Neither one of you actually attempted to start a conversation or let your looks linger very long. You can feel the heat start to creep up into your cheeks, remembering how you pressed yourself against him. You certainly remember it at night when you're alone in bed that still rests on the floor.

“I know what happened?” Jimin whispered in your ear, knocking you back into reality. He handed you a piece of paper that looked like a test page from a printer. “Maybe you can return the favor and help him out. I think his girlfriend needs him to sign this.”

“What? No, she's flirting with him. I don't want to get in the way,” you hissed.

“He doesn't like her,” Tae says. “She is a teacher at the middle school. We talked with her class about greenhouses, and she's been drooling after him since. He usually runs and hides when he sees her.”

Jimin makes a shoo-ing motion with his hand as he turns back to his friends and continues to eat. You sigh and take a deep breath. You were never a good actress, and you think that she will probably see right through you.

One…two…three.

“Yoongs, babe, we really need you to sign this,” you tell him as you press yourself into his side and hand him the paper. Yoongi looks down at you with wide eyes, confusion swirling in his dark brown orbs. You swear you hear laughing from behind the tent. Have you mentioned that you need different friends? “Yoongi, sign…please.”

Yoongi looks at the paper and then back at you. You smile at him innocently and blink your eyes with a purpose. You think it finally clicks as he grabs the pen from behind his ear and puts his signature sloppily on the white paper. You turn your attention to the woman glaring daggers at you. You notice that she definitely undid a couple of buttons from her top.

“Hi, I'm Y/N. You are?” You ask her with a pleasant smile on your face.

“Sana, I'm a friend of Yoongi's,” she tells you with a smirk. Oh, she was that type of woman. Game on, baby.

“No, you're not,” he said, handing the paper back to you. Sana's smirk falters a little bit. You wrap your arms around his waist, and you feel him stiffen.

“Oh, well, this is awkward. I'm his girlfriend,” you tell her as you stroke your hand across his chest, making her smirk finally drop. “I've never heard of you before… strange. I need to get back, but you have a wonderful day.”

You look at Yoongi, pursuing your lips. You want to see if he was willing to play along. He didn't move. Moving your finger to your lips, you tap them with your finger, indicating what you wanted. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Your arms go around his neck, and his hand comes up to rest on your hips. You're not surprised to find that his lips were a little chapped as you always saw him licking at them…not that you ever paid that close of attention to him. You pull away when you hear Sana clear her throat. You smile at her as she glares harder at you.

“It was nice to meet you,” you tell her and walk away.

Your three friends start clapping when you get back to them. Your eyes zero in on the mason jar and see they finished off the jam. You shake your head at them as you continue to look at your empty jar, and they just shrug their shoulders.

“We're growing boys,” Jungkook said, handing the small glass container back to you.

"You're all grown men,” you correct him and take it from his hand. “How did you eat it so fast?”

“You three get back out there,” Yoongi tells them, and they scatter fast. “What was that?” he asks you.

“They told me to do it,” you defend yourself. “They ate all the jam and bread. I wanted you to try it.”

“Don't change the subject,” he tells you, crossing his arms.

“They said you didn't like her. Consider it me owing you one after…you know …. nakedness.” You say quietly.

“Don't worry about it. I didn't see anything,” he mumbled, turning red.

“Maybe, you can stop by tonight? I can rectify this whole thing,” you say as you play with the empty jar. Yoongi gives you a double take. It takes him a few seconds before he nods his head dumbly at you in agreement. “Great, I'll be waiting.”

You didn't actually expect Yoongi to show up. You were finishing up a bigger batch of the strawberry, raspberry combo jelly for next weekend when there was a knock at your kitchen door. You give Yoongi a small smile and wave him in. You noticed that he had changed since that morning. Gone were the baggier jeans and flannel shirt. He changed into more fitted jeans and a white tee-shirt that fit perfectly on him. His hair looked like it might be slightly damp as if he just got out of the shower. He looked good, he looked…confused?

“What?” You ask him as you transfer the steaming pot to a cooling rack.

“You made jam?” he really was confused. “I, I thought,” he can't seem to finish his thought. “I'm such an idiot. I’m just gonna go.”

“Wait, don't go,” you say hurriedly. “ I wanted you to try this, and I also wanted to apologize for what happened on Sunday for real. I mean, even though you were the one to barge into my bathroom. “

“You were screaming,” he defended himself. “How was I supposed to know you were naked laying in the tub?”

“So you did look. You liar,” you said, pointing your finger at him.

“You jumped on me,” he yelled, stepping closer to you. “How could I have missed it.”

“You could have closed your eyes,” you step to him. You are so close to him that you're almost touching him. “You probably got off on it.”

His eyes turned to slits. A heated gaze burns its way through you as Yoongi bends down. Your faces are level, and you suddenly start to breathe a little heavier. Yoongi's stare drops to your lips as he runs his tongue over his own. You follow its movement with wide eyes and swallow hard.

“What if I did?” he whispers, tilting his head to the side. Your heart stops, wondering if you had heard him correctly.

“Yoongi,” you whisper his name, but you think it may have come out as a whimper.

His gaze darkens, and a smirk crosses his face. Yoongi leans in the rest of the way and grazes his lips against your own. He's giving you a chance to pull away. To tell him to stop and you think that you should, but you don’t…you can't. His eyes meet yours again before he claims your lips fully. Lips press firmly against your own as his hands pull your body completely against him. His hold on your hips is tight and needy. His tongue sneaks out and licks your bottom lip, asking for you to open for him. You do, your tongues crashing together like you were fighting for dominance. His hand lightly twists in your hair, tilting your head back, giving him all the access that he needs to plunder your mouth with his talented tongue rolling against yours. You let him have control.

“I haven't stopped thinking about you,” he growls into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, causing it to turn slightly pink after he pulls away from your swollen lips. “The feeling of you pressed against me all wet. The way your hands grabbed on to me. I can't get it out of my head.”

You push him away, and he stumbles back in shock. He has to grab your kitchen chair to stop from tripping over and falling onto his ass. You snatch the bottom of your shirt, hastily pull it over your head, and chuck it at him. He catches it, rubbing the material between his fingers as his gaze roams your newly exposed skin. Dropping the shirt onto the floor, he grabs the back of your head, bringing you to him once again. He doesn't waste any time kissing you and pulling your cotton shorts down your thighs, letting them drop to the floor. You kick them away with your foot and reach around to unhook your bra, pulling it off yourself.

“Fuck,” he groans, appreciating the newly exposed skin. Yoongi lifts you by grabbing the back of your thighs and sitting you on the counter. It's cold and you squeal at the sudden temperature change. “Sorry,” he grunts, tearing his own shirt off over his head. “I'll warm you up in a minute.”

His hands work quickly to remove his belt. His eyes never leave your panting figure as you sit and wait for him. You press your legs together as he finally drops his pants and steps out of them. He leaves his underwear on. You're slightly disappointed, but you guess it's only fair. You have yours on, too. Yoongi steps to you and grabs the back of your knees as he pulls your bottom to the edge of the counter. Your legs spread open around his hips, and he steps in between them. Tongues meet again as his hands roam every inch or your naked skin, attempting to take the chill away from your body. Yoongi drops his kisses down across your jaw and lowers his head, kissing a wet path further down until he takes your nipple in his mouth. Teeth lightly bite down, making your arch your back. Your breasts press further in his face, and it has him moaning into them. Yoongi's hand slides over the side of your neck and to your breast, cupping the fullness. His fingers plucking at your hardened nipple on your neglected breast have your hips rolling against his flat stomach, seeking that delicious friction. One of your hands goes into his hair, moving his hair off his face, and your other grabs the cabinet handle as you try to keep yourself upright.

You shiver noticeably as goosebumps break out over your skin as he teeth graze your other nipple. Standing straight, he pulls you flush against him, sharing his body heat. Your tits are smashed against his chest as he wraps his arms securely around you. His breathing has seemed to pick up just as much as yours has. He stares into your eyes for a moment like he’s checking for an answer to an unasked question. Whatever it was, he seemed satisfied as he picked you up from the counter. Yoongi turns and lays you gently on your wobbly kitchen table, pulling you so your ass is at the edge. You ignore the cold shock this time as you reach between your legs and grab the waistband of his underwear, tugging at them

“Is that what you want?” he chuckles, and you nod your head rapidly. “You have to say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want it,” you tell him and tilts his head to the side studying you. He smirks and laughs at you.

“I don't know what ‘it’ is,” he teases you. His hands run slowly up your thighs, fingers hooking into your very damp panties as he pulls them down your legs. He throws them over his shoulder and spreads your legs open wide. He licks his first two fingers and runs them back and forth over your sensitive clit gently making you hiss between your teeth. “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan, your hips start to move against his fingers. You wish he would put more pressure on your excited bundle of nerves. “Yoongi, I want your cock.”

That one seemed to do it for him. He spreads your burning core open with his opposite hand, his fingers slowly entering your wet entrance. You sigh at the sensation, but it's not enough. You spread your knees as far as you can,trying to get him deeper. He huffs out a laugh and swiftly bends his head down licking your clit only once before moving his head away. Your hips jump on their own and your hands delve into his hair trying to keep him there. His tongue traces an invisible line on your thigh and pumps his fingers into you faster.

“I knew you would like this. Listen to how wet you are,” he smirks against the soft skin of your inner thigh as watches his own fingers fuck you.

He was right. You were dripping wet. The wet, squelching noises sounded so loud in your quiet kitchen as he worked his magic. It sounded so obscene. You moan. It's been so long since you felt like this. The wanting, neediness of the lust and desire that you have lacked for years. In fact, you’re not even sure that you have ever felt like this. You have yearned for this, and you couldn't believe that Yoongi was the one to give it to you.

“Please, please, lick it again,” you beg wantingly, hips squirming around. Changkyun never did this. He never did a lot of things.

Yoongi doesn't hesitate and dives in. His tongue is unrelenting on your clit, flicking it back and forth with rapid strokes. He pulls his fingers out of you so he can push your legs back by the back of your thighs. It leaves you completely open and utterly exposed to his feasting. His insistent tongue changes pace as he draws achingly slow circles around you. The teasing has you squirming to get closer to his mouth. He takes pity on you and he rests your legs on his shoulders. His skillful tongue works its way into you. This is a whole new spine tingling sensation that you have never felt before. You reach down, taking his hands into your own. Slowly you bring them up to your body so he can grab your breasts. He groans into your pussy as his hands squeeze your tits. Your legs start to shake around his head. Your insides start to tingle and tighten until it suddenly stops.

Pulling back, Yoongi places one more kiss on your clit. You're mad. You were so close and he took that away from you. You were about to voice your displeasure until you watched him lean down and grab his pants. Reaching into his pocket, you see him produce a square foil packet. Yanking down his own underwear, you watch as his hardened cock slaps his stomach as it springs free. He rips open the condom and watches you laid out before him as he slides it on. Leaning over your body he kisses you once more on the mouth,

“How old is this table?” He asks seriously.

“Old,” you tell him, and he nods his head like he expected that answer.

Pulling you off the table, he guides you back to the counter. He presses your front against the granite. Grabbing your hips he pulls them back and he presses his hard cock against your ass, grinding it against you. You roll your hips back further making him groan in pleasure. Yoongi gently places kisses across the naked skin of your shoulder and the back of your neck. Trailing his tongue up the side of your neck, he bites your ear lobe.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asks softly in your ear.

“Yes,” your voice was breathy.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay.”

Yoongi bends you further forward, making your ass pop up more as you are forced to stand on your tippy toes. Reaching between the two of you, Yoongi runs his cock along your pussy before he slowly starts to enter you. You can hear him let out a shuddering breath. He holds still and grips your hips tightly.

“Did he ever fuck you?” he asked you, his voice tight. You nod your head yes and he laughs lightly. “Didn't do a fucking good job then.”

With a quick thrust, Yoongi was buried all the way in you. You moan loud as your hand reaches up and grabs that cabinet handle again, holding on for dear life. Looking over your shoulder, you see Yoongi swipe at his forehead. He must be just as affected as you were. You push your ass back onto him, and his eyes fly to you. Biting your bottom lip, you smile at him and nod. Yoongi places his hands on your shoulders as his hips roll against your ass making your body rhythmically rock forward.

Your head falls forward loosely as you take in the sensation of him inside of you. The way his hands grip your shoulders, keeping control of your body. His thrusts start to speed up, and the counter edge starts to dig into your stomach. You don't care, though. He feels too good.

“Harder, Yoongi,” you gasp.

His hands come down, fingertips trace down your back and grab at your waist, pulling you back against him to meet every thrust. Your body starts to surge forward faster as his hips snap into you as he picks up the pace of his strokes. Sounds of slapping skin pierces the air in your kitchen as your bottom meets his pelvis over and over again. Your eyes start to roll back. Sex has never….and I mean never been this good.

Yoongi pulls out of you and grabs the back of your knee. Swiftly, he brings your leg up to rest on top of the counter. Thrusting himself back into you with a groan and a curse, his hand races down the front of your body over your hip until his fingers land on your clit. Skilled fingers start circling your overly sensitive bud.

“Oh, shit,” you moan and rest your face against the back of your hand.

“I know, I know,” he says breathlessly, continuing his relentless pace. Your heartbeat starts to quicken, your toes start to curl, and the delicious heat begins to spread across your body, making your skin flush. “Look at you, shit.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper.

Your walls start to clench around him as his fingers still work on your clit. Your hand drops down to stop him. He stops the circling and presses against it firmly instead as his cock still works its way in and out of you. Your eyes squeeze shut, your body tenses. You gasp.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Yoongi grunts, giving you one more hard thrust. He stills, and your walls continue to clench around him, milking him for all he's worth.

Dropping his head onto your shoulder, he catches his breath before pulling out of you. Carefully, he places your lifted leg back on the ground. His hand lightly rubs at the knee that was pressed against the granite counter, holding your weight. You stay bent over your counter, afraid to look at him. You don't know what to do now.

“You okay?” He asks, kissing your shoulder.

“Perfect,” you answer.

You look over your shoulder at him, and he smiles at you. For the first time…you truly smile back.

Tagged Readers:

@mar-lo-pap, @bontensbabygirl , @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs , @redragdoll, @svnbangtansworld , @wobblewobble822 , @busanbby-jjk , @pitchblack0309 , @bluesiebirdie

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

Part III.

Read Part 1 Here!

Read Part 2 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 4k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Depictions of Masturbation(M&F), Dirty Talk, ~Slow Burn~

So, yeah. Harry and I have successfully become somewhat close. We’ve put up with each other’s shit for long enough and eventually bonded—or whatever the hell you call it when a pair of sex-starved adults live in close quarters and they decide to play nice so the walls don’t come down on them.

Even though it’s the time of year when I can see my breath and I have to wear socks to protect my chilly toes when I’m lounging around the house, when I’m around Harry…I might as well be a tea kettle on the verge of squealing in steaming agony. I guess you could say I’ve been in heat.

I’m catching myself spacing all the time, hypnotized by his comfortable routine. He grasps my attention like it’s second-nature to him, and I have no other choice but to relent—to surrender. How fucking pathetic is that? Like, get a grip, woman. 

But seriously, I can’t take it anymore. I turn powerless and my body betrays me, simply from the man meeting my eyes with his from across the room. For someone to hold this much control over another human being by just existing…not only is it completely unfair, but it feels otherworldly. It’s as though a connection has been birthed out of the rawest, most sinful form of lust, with its sole purpose to fuse a pair of unwed and horny humans. Thus latching itself onto the two of us, melding an incubus with a siren.

I guess it could just be some crazy-intense sexual tension, too. There’s no fun in that explanation, but whatever. The point is that I can’t fucking take it anymore.  Me being so mesmerized by him performing the most mundane of tasks—unscrewing a new jar of jam, rubbing the sleep out of his face as he stumbles out of his bedroom, sneaking little peeks at me from across the room and smirking to himself after he looks away. God. That smirk keeps me up at night…my hands groping myself and massaging my clit to lull myself to dreamland.

Right…so about that…

For the past few months, Harry’s been able to hear me fucking myself through the thin wall that separates our two bedrooms. The divider does absolutely nothing to silence me and my explicit acts of self-pleasure. These walls couldn’t muffle a mouse, let alone an ambitiously horny, and impressively vocal young woman who’s desperate to get her rocks off…hard. 

And I’m certain he can hear everything—every gasp, every whine, every slick plunge of my fingers—or a toy—as they’re used in a merciless attack on my own body in order to chase an unattainable high…It's loud. It’s filthy. 

It’s pornographic.

And yet Harry indulges in my songs. I know he does. The only way I’m able to get myself off is to picture him on the other side…to close my eyes and astral-project my way into his room and assume the role of the voyeur…as the exhibitionist. I’m a walking oxymoron.

I imagine my waves of ecstasy seeping through the walls to awaken his neglected cock in his tight briefs.

I think to myself, 

…I bet he’s wondering whether or not I'm messing with him...if I know he’s listening to me…and if, perhaps, I want him to listen…

If only I were just playing a sick game of tease…Such a possibility would be utterly humiliating for Harry. He loathes feeling like his control is in the hands of another. Said power landing in my hands? Oh…No, no, no. Lest we forget the towel incident? Don’t let the sensitive late-night talks, the apology hugs, or the sleepy cuddles fool you; a switch, Harry is not. Not that he’s told me or anything, but it’s a feeling. When he drags his eyes down to slowly assess me…there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s in charge.

He has a limited threshold for teasing and babying, which is precisely why he shooed his own mother out the door after a mere 5 minutes of her jests. Harry spent his entire life as the baby. I sense he’s needed a release for quite some time…and it probably doesn’t help matters that my playful antics are sure-fire triggers for his dark dominance to take over. I think he’s struggled to find the right mate to unleash that part of himself with. At least completely, that is. And I hope I’ve been pressing just the right buttons to experience it all for myself. 

But yes, I’ve been fucking myself with lotsa gusto knowing he’s in close earshot of the action. Hopefully, he’s come to successfully make sense of some of my muffled ramblings beyond his wall as, “Yes, Daddy!” as well as the occasional gasp or moan of “Harry.” What? I like it…

Although I’d love to exacerbate the narrative that this has all just been a cruel game started by yours truly—a game that I’m winning, to be clear—I'm actually not messing with him. This had begun purely by accident, and now I'm just continuing to provide some adult entertainment for my, uh...housemate and…good friend. 

Before you scold me for being a perv, let me just finish explaining the situation. Because if Harry had a problem with something I did, he’d tell me. And he never complained about this. Never. 

Quite the opposite, actually.

The first time I did my private deeds with Harry eavesdropping in the next room, I'd initially felt horribly embarrassed. I hadn't realized how shameless I was, or how loud and desperate the noises were as they came out of me. Once I finally caught myself, it was like space and time had spun to a stop, and I was painfully aware of my raw indecency.

I wasn’t watching porn, reading erotica, or listening to naughty audio recordings. Nope. Only my lustful thoughts fueled the eagerness in my fingers as they played with my pussy. I’d also been blatantly inconsiderate of Harry and his right to privacy whilst they did. I felt dirty. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pfft, I was hardly thinking of anything. It reminded me of the time just before we moved into this house…when I lurked on his social media pages for the images of his slick, half-naked body which burned themselves into my memory, all just to use him for my own personal, sick, sexual gratification.  

And there I was again—now cohabiting a space with the very inspiration for my filth and frustration—lying comfortably atop a spacious, girly pink towel to protect my bed linens from succumbing to my wetness. My knees were spread apart and my dripping cunt was on full display for my closed door across the room. If anyone walked in, they'd unknowingly be entering what many theme parks tend to call a “splash zone.” 

Luckily, Harry was in the living room watching some melodramatic video essay on YouTube…Or at least that’s where I’d left him before ending up in the not-so-innocent position atop my mattress.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that the house wasn’t empty until I heard my own whiny sighs combined with unmistakable slippery pussy-rubbing echoing throughout the room. My cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink once I’d realized the extent of my elevated volume. There was no way Harry couldn’t have heard all that. And I had no idea how long I’d been up to it, or for how long at that high of a frequency.

The click of a door closing nearby interrupted my nervous internal monologue—Harry’s door. He was mere meters away from my partially-nude body, but my private quarters kept me safe from any judging eyes. The wall our bedrooms shared stood as the only barricade between our two bodies. For a while, I dismissed my initial self-awareness and I slowly, and carefully, swirled my drenched fingertips over my clit. More of my liquid arousal coated my petite hand. For some reason, the idea of Harry walking in on me like that had me feeling hot. Realistically, that would’ve meant immediate, devastating humiliation. Did that mean I was into that? I’d say yes judging by the way I was pulsing around nothing whilst staring at my door, picturing the man himself standing there smirking at me…tilting his head and patronizing me. 

…Aw, would you look at tha’…Does that feel good, Sweet Bunny? 

“Mmhmm.” I found myself nodding with a sigh, my eyes relaxed and veiled. My mind refused to backtrack, and instead doubled-down. I probably should have stopped myself right there, but fuck, could self-sabotage feel good.

My brain directed me towards thinking about how pretty and sweet I was on the outside. My body, soft, and my features, so delicate, but so grabbable. Every part of me had an ample amount of plushness to squeeze. To manhandle. My tiny wrists and my elegant neck, the perfect size for a pair of big hands to wrap around. I bit my rosy lip on a whine, then brought my thumb up to rub and tease it before sucking on it. The sinful acts my mouth performed were a secret I kept with the few lucky men who’d experienced it for themselves. I wanted so badly to share that with Harry…I wanted to share all of myself with him. 

“Mmm…Harry.” I moaned aloud, releasing my wet thumb and sneaking it under my shirt, swiping the slick pad back and forth over my sensitive tit.

It was hard for me not to think about Harry whenever I touched myself. I thought about his fingers playing with my hair, him burying his face into my neck the times we cuddled…feeling his hard-on against my ass on the couch…the times when he’d hugged me…and catching his gaze drift down to my tits…I bet he’d thought I’d never notice, even after having done it multiple times in a single conversation. Hmm…was Harry Styles an ass man or a tit man? Or was he something else…? He certainly liked looking at my boobs…and I'm able to confirm that his body has a very positive reaction to pressing up against my butt…

Honestly, I didn’t even care what parts of the body Harry liked the most. All I cared about was how badly I wanted to feel him use mine. I wrapped my small hand around my throat and arched my back up off of the mattress, gasping as I mindlessly pushed two hooked fingers inside my tight opening, picturing a certain tall, curly-headed British man molesting me instead. The sound of my own moans enhanced my pleasure as I rode myself towards peak bliss. My modesty had become non-existent as my hands worked each sensitive spot between my legs and teased at my pebbled nipples. A part of me needed him to hear me that night. I was getting off on that taboo. But that’s all it was…my imagination. 

It was just a silly little fantasy. Harmless exhibitionism. I wasn’t actually being that loud…—but that’s when I suddenly heard more feedback beyond the wall. It’d been some time since I’d heard the door click shut. My personal distractions got in the way of keeping track of time. 

There was an urgent fumbling. A repetitive clinking. The sound resembled a bit of metal hitting other metal. But it was light. Small. Following that, I heard a rough yank and a soft plop as whatever the item was had dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor. An unmistakable hum of a zipper quickly came subsequent to the discarding of the first mystery item—but it was no longer a mystery to me as my sex-clouded mind pieced together what I was hearing. The hands nestled between my thighs slowed at the realization.

Well, Harry’s just changing into his pajamas for the night, right?

My audible x-rated activities bouncing off the walls for several minutes whilst my roommate innocently removed his pants next door…maybe I was overthinking this…I remembered calling out our "goodnight"'s to each other around 10 minutes before I slipped out of my panties and began to shamelessly pleasure myself. He was still in his business-y work clothes when I left him in the living room…and I knew I just heard his bedroom door click shut in the middle of my alone time. And at that point, Harry was right there. He was just trying to unwind, yet happened to be in the room adjacent to mine. It was probably too awkward for him to ask for me to quiet down. 

Poor guy…ugh. I was disgusted with myself. I felt I needed to end my “session” right there, and

I was mentally preparing a nice apology text to send him. There was no way in hell I'd bring this up in person to Harry the following day. Surely I’d be in tears before I could even form the right words. I didn’t even want to imagine the scenario of Harry, himself, mentioning it to my face. Every possible, horrible consequence of my selfishly lewd deeds played out in my mind. There I was, lying there with my knees bent up and spread wide open—my fingers frozen against where I'm most sensitive. The silence made the throbbing in my clit feel even more desperate. 

And then Harry flicked his white-noise machine on.

Oh, God…This was so embarrassing.

I wanted to sink into a black hole and never be seen, nor heard, ever again. The severity of the situation felt devastating to me. Was I truly so grotesque that the beautiful man I lived with had to tune me out with the highest setting of his old, rattly sleep machine?!

Hell, I was more than embarrassed, I was fucking humiliated. For real, this time. And it was all my fault.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just as I was readying myself to book a flight back home to move back in with my parents to spare myself from ever having to look Harry in the eye again…

I heard it. 

I heard him.

“…Mmmhh…”

Beyond the hum of the wimpy white noise, there was a raspy moan on the other side of the wall. I thought I was just imagining it, or that maybe it was Harry quietly retching in disgust, but then it happened again. 

No, yeah. It was definitely a moan.

I held my breath as I focused upon the sound of an abrupt curse followed by the distinctive sound of spitting. 

“...Ahhh, fuck—” 

*ptuh* 

The grunting and other lewd noises continued. I could only imagine Harry’s tightened fist, wet from his own drool, working diligently at his neglected cock.

“...Mm…h-hm…ugghhh…”

It seemed like Harry's white-noise machine had some impressive competition. My lips curved into a smirk and my embarrassment exponentially subsided.

His growls vibrated right through the layers of paint and drywall—sliding their way under my shirt, swirling around my perked nipples before bolting straight down to my fingertips, coaxing them to push deeper into my heat. Squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, I curled those digits and gasped out audibly. Feminine arousal leaked from my center and down the crease where my ass met my thighs. Everything was so slippery. I’d made a mess of myself within seconds. Not to mention, the pornographic squelch of my fingers echoed shamelessly beyond the slick walls of my cunt.

If Harry’s spit-covered palm was loud enough to hear over the white noise, then I knew the splashy reservoir between my legs was audible too.

Another series of grunts and huffs sounded beyond the wall behind me and the white noise machine was switched off. I retracted my fingers and slid them up and down my slit, teasing myself and picturing Harry rubbing the head of his dick along my entrance. My brow pinched hedonistic agony. Oh, God, did I want him inside me…I needed something…anything…

With my less-saturated hand, I reached over to open my bedside drawer and lifted the lower compartment to retrieve the silk satchel that encased my dildo. My sticky-slick fingers fumbled impatiently with the ties until the toy comically launched out of the bag and bounced itself smack down onto the inside of my splayed thigh. I could just picture Harry laughing at my lack of grace even though he was busy with his own deeds next door. The thought of Harry teasing me about the dildo made me blush a bit, and I smiled to myself, imagining his hand reaching out to brush my hair out of my face, his pupils dilating as he’d sit on his knees next to the bed and lean over me until his lips grazed my ear…

Be a good girl and show me what filthy things you do with this, Bunny…Show me where it goes…Show me how you fuck yourself…

I hadn’t realized I’d done it again. I’d gotten lost in that depraved little world of mine, and I whimpered aloud in response to the Imaginary Harry who was speaking in my fantasy, “Y-you want me to fuck my pussy for you, Daddy?” Maybe it was the Imaginary Harry again, but I could’ve sworn that I heard a silky British voice nearby react, “Goddd…dammit, Bun’…Ugh, fuuuck, yes. Fuck that sweet little pussy f’me, baby, holy shit…”

Laying back down, I brought the silicone cock up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. I slowly bobbed my head on it and soaked it with my saliva after deepthroating it several times. The sloppy blowjob I gave to my dildo seemed to have been loud enough to be heard by Harry next door, as he voiced out, “Oh my god, Y/N…I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”

I pulled it away from my tongue, a string of drool dripping from the tip, and rubbed the head of the toy against my sensitive clit whilst I responded, bringing me right back to where I needed to be. 

“Mmhh, but you can’t put a baby in me that way, Daddy.”

My own eyes widened and I gasped. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fucking said that.

“Shit! Ughh…Ahh…Ughhhh…Fuck you, Bunny…Almost made me…c-come…Christ—Ohhh, fuck me…”

With my free hand, I sucked on my index finger and let my eyes flutter closed as I pulled it out from my lips, trailing it down my neck, all the way to my breasts. Groping myself as best as I could with the rest of my hand, I used my forefinger to tease my nipple whilst the dildo swirled and swiped around my slickened slit. My breathing picked up quickly. The dildo had eventually disappeared inside my clenching hole. The only audible sounds I remember hearing were those of my own—my high-pitched gasps, the pornographic swishing and squelching of the dildo fucking my drenched cunt, the wet flicking noises of my fingers moving rapidly against my clit…I don’t even remember how loud Harry was at that point, I was too focused on my fantasy—my fantasy with him—to notice. I was so focused, in fact, that I had once again lost all sense of self-control and consciousness, succumbing to whatever had come naturally to me at the time and practically singing out my song of ecstasy for the whole goddamn neighborhood.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…Harry, please. I need your cum…Oh, god, please come inside me. Fuck all your cum d-dee–oh g…–ah! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”

As I begged for my climax, Harry seemed to have been on the edge of his orgasm as well.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N…You want me to fill you up? Be my little breeding bunny? God…You dirty girl…Fuuuck…oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy! I can take it! Please! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Aaahhh!”

I unraveled with a squeak followed by a series of breathless sobs, my hands, wrists, and arms working frantically and my eyes rolled back whilst the kaleidoscope of pleasure poured through my body. Immediately after my explosion, I collapsed like a ragdoll with the dildo slowly pushing out of me, and my fingers slipping around on my clit to prolong my high. As my breathing recovered, I listened to the tail-end of the orgasm taking place from Harry’s side of the wall.

“Holy shit…Fucking take all of it f’me, babe—ohhhh, yeah…uhh-uuggh…mmhh…hm…Damnit…’So much…I wish all this was inside you, Bunny…fucking hell…”

I’d slept like a rock once I finally passed out. I wasn’t even worried about what would come the next morning. Nah, I had the upper hand on this one for once. As a bratty submissive, I’d gotten used to being teased and controlled. What an interesting feeling to exist on the other side. God, it felt fucking fantastic. Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as confident…or at least that was what I’d been able to interpret in the days following. Nights after the first one, I’d carry on fucking my cunt until I was physically too exhausted to move my pretty little hands anymore. I swear I’d heard Harry finish at least thrice in one night once. (Impressive, Styles.) As for myself…well, I usually lost count.

That first morning, I awoke with sore arms, a rogue dildo laying on the floor, my limbs tangled inside my sheets, yet a ridiculous smile was perma-glued onto my sleepy, orgasm-spent face. I tried my best to tone it down, as I didn’t want to prance around the house like I’d just risen from a deep sleep induced by a gazillion-and-one pulsating firecrackers of pleasure. Too obvious, you know? Had to act nonchalant. Unbothered. 

Who was I kidding—I was the most chalant person I knew. Harry would see right through that charade. But there honestly wasn’t much need for pretending on my part since Harry had actively avoided any and all eye contact with me anyway. I’d never seen the man be so meek. It was truly a sight. 

Things would eventually loosen up as the days progressed, especially if it was a work day which meant Harry had an excuse to be miles away from me for several hours. It was somewhat of a bummer because I thoroughly enjoyed this sampling of power I newly held over the man. I reveled in the way our typical roles would reverse the mornings after our little bedtime serenades. They weren’t a nightly occurrence, as I preferred to keep him on his toes; however, they’d happen often enough that I tended to daydream in the middle of my work meetings. I’d even begun to retreat to my bedroom an hour or so earlier in the evenings, giving Harry some lame excuse like tiredness or a headache. In reality, it was me signaling that I needed to get myself off sooner rather than later. Whenever I’d announce my departure, I could feel how much he’d been aching for it all day, too. Harry eventually utilized the same approach to speed up the fulfillment of his own needs. I’d changed up my tempo, my method of pleasure, the filth of my words, even my own positions whilst touching myself. It seemed like it had become almost like a routine for him to wait for me to fall into bed late in the evening. (Yet another one for me to be distracted by…) 

Nothing’s changed. I still imagine that he patiently lays atop his soft duvet with an anxious throb booming against his eardrums…That minutes will go by with him training his ear to follow each soft pad of my feet. And then I shut my door. I waste no time before diving my pretty fingers inside the waistband of my underwear and playing with my sensitive little petal—allowing all the filth to freely escape my lips. And every single time we do this, I’m in my room picturing him naked from the waist down, one hand eagerly pumping his dripping length whilst the other massages his balls and perineum. To this day, the waves of simultaneous pleasure are still trapped only by the few measly layers of drywall that stand in between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know, I know…it’s been a while…but I’m back:-) and this isn’t the end of Harry’s Home—the final part is basically finished, but I wanted to post this chunk of it since I’d been kind of neglecting my account for months now. I hope y’all like it! Xoxo ~ Régan 💋

Tags: @daphnesutton @victoria-styles @pishhhh20989 @heyyyloverr @youdontcaredoyou @jerseygirlinca

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

During his morning meditation on the mountain side, Anakin faces a new enemy

part one | part three

a choose your own outcome story !

weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter !

hope you enjoy ! 💌

Cliffs

Anakin didn’t like very many people.

Not since forming a close bond with Obi Wan, and certainly not since falling in love with Padme.

The idea of love never even crossed his mind in the last few years living out his existence on this planet. Monotony, and isolation compounded all of that for him. It was no longer on his radar.

Wherever he ended up in life, he didn’t feel it necessary to speak to anyone, let alone form a friendship with them if he absolutely didn’t have to.

He kept his head down. Stayed quiet. Tended to his field everyday. Watched as his crops and trees took on shape and beauty. That was something he could relate to - hard work, and discipline. Doing his best, and making sure that he was absolutely ‘better’ than everyone.

they don’t know what I’m capable of…

But when his neighbor moved in on the plot of land next to his, everything started to change. A man who once lost his sense of humanity, started to become whole again. 

Her smile did that for him.

And the sound of her voice alone, seemed to have made things the slightest bit better again.

So, when she told him of her troubles the day before involving that lowly fisherman, he got angry. Even more so when he heard more about this from the villagers in town.

It took everything in him just to speak with the modest shopkeepers, and the elders. Going against staying silent in order just to help her.

what do you know about him?

he’s a defector! a scoundrel!

fled fighting in the war?

I don’t know where from, but yes. took off during the clone wars.

how did he end up here?

bar fight, ended badly.

what do you mean?

stole from someone, then killed them. had a bounty on his head but escaped, somehow ended up here.

he won’t be here for long…

we’re good people, lars, none of us asked for thieves and criminals to infiltrate our home…

If only they knew…

As he begins to feel one with all of his thoughts, a light breeze begins to pass through all of the trees behind him. The sweet melodic song birds, delivering their peace to all of the mountainside. Everything is green here. The water, freshest just from falling. All that was once jagged is now made smooth again; the river, freely flowing over all of the stones and rock.

It reminds him of a time when everything made more sense. At least, that is what he settles with during his daily meditation. Breathing like this with his eyes closed makes him feel as though he has some sort of purpose, a reminder that, yes, perhaps I can in fact be whole again. 

But, it’s this one fight that’s been holding him back from all of it.

A kind face, that no matter how hard he tries, can never be forgotten.

Frankly, it’s become somewhat of an annoyance…

A beautiful, and persistent, growing sort of distraction…

you’re nice to me.

I try.

“Ha! Would you get a load of this! Tough guy seems to be one with nature! I know what you really are!”

there he is, perfect timing. 

“And what’s that? I’m just dying for you to tell me…”

With his eyes closed, Anakin smirks, where instinctually he feels the vagrant in question pacing back and forth behind him. 

his steps make the grass fold.

a few twigs have snapped.

“You’re soft! Defending some disgusting woman! What’d you think I wouldn’t hear about where you are?”

“That was my plan all along, not my fault you fell for it.”

there goes a splash into the water.

an echo of a floating basket behind him.

Anakin stands, turning to see what the sound was, only to find broken stems, and dirt, clouding the bottom of a nearby waterfall.

Rose petals. Scattered thorns...

Sunflowers, and broken glass jars.

Stolen garden tools.

Homemade favors, and jam, wrapped in woven cloth of all colors, strewn about the neighboring rocks. 

“You’re nothing, Lars, just like the rest of us! Who knows if that’s even who you really are!”

He smirks, all while lifting the palm of his hand, and controlling the air around them. Watching as his newfound enemy begins to choke on his own breath.

“Perhaps it is best that you address me from the floor.”

Anakin circles him, all while tightening his grip around his neck through the force.

“I was…right…you are…”

With a sharp and instant motion, all at once, he slams him toward the ground.

“Enough.”

Then, he continues with his onslaught.

“It seems you know exactly who I am, and what I’ve done. So the rest is only inevitable…”

His enemy’s eyes are ruthless, but there is only silence. A quiet he can not withhold.

“You’ve led a kind woman into great distress. Destroying her livelihood. And for what? Because she denied you?”

Anakin backhands him, a hardened blow to the face that manages to break the force’s hold.

“Coward.”

He then lands a strengthened kick to his stomach, before stepping on his throat.

Through the grit of teeth, the fisherman snarls.

“You’re…no General…”

“How would you know? You never fought in my war.”

he’s been spreading falsehoods about me and my family throughout the village…

“All you’ve done is harass an innocent girl. Do you take pride in that? What makes you so miserable?”

Releasing his boot, Anakin slowly walks toward the wildflowers. For a second he thinks about collecting some of them when he’s done here. And…the possibility of how they would look on her, worn as a pretty crown.

“She’s nothing but a whore!”

With his back turned, so viciously, he smiles.

“So unfortunate…”

As the nameless vagrant begins to rise to his feet, the entire mountain begins to rumble, causing him to stumble and fall.

“...that now you will be no more than a pile of dust.”

With a menacing crack, Anakin’s wrath lays claim to all of the Earth, forcing his enemy over the ridge ahead of him; listening to his screams ring out from the shattered edges of the cliffs.

what have I done?

why should I feel remorse?

I did nothing wrong...

he deserved it...

“He won’t be a problem anymore.” 

The words come easily, but they are only above a whisper now.

Everything is strangely quiet, where the trees no longer move.

It reminds him of the calm that happens right before a powerful storm.

Except, the carnage has already happened…

And he feels all the more alone.

… ❤️

thanks so much for reading & sharing this story ! I hope you are enjoying the choose your own outcome polls. it has definitely been a lot of fun getting to write these short scenes. sometimes I don't even know what will happen next until I am actually writing them ! I would love to know what you think. 💌😊 xo A

[kymtym]

Strawberry Jam

I make this often and it's the best jam I've ever had.

INGREDIENTS:

3 pounds (1.360kg) strawberries, trimmed and quartered

3 cups (710 ml) granulated sugar

Juice of 1 lemon

TOOLS

a wide pot with a lid

A silicone spatula / scraper

A stove (range?)

A big spoon for stirring and scooping

A small spoon for testing readiness

A glass or ceramic plate to test readiness

A freezer (for the plate)

EITHER a potato masher OR an immersion blender (stick blender?)

A container to put the finished product in. This recipe is not shelf stable, the jam will need to go in the fridge.

Early in the day, combine all ingredients in the pot. It may seem like too much sugar, but don't worry. Mix it up with the silicone spatula, put a lid on it, and leave it in the kitchen. Every now and then, give it another mix. I just leave the spatula in the pot, the lid is just to keep and dust and the cats out of the mix. The sugar will eventually draw out a bunch of juice from the strawberries and you will be left with a pot of strawberries in syrup. This will take hours. If you scrape the bottom of the pot and no longer feel grainy sugar and you're no longer able to pull up any sugar, you're ready to cook it.

Put the plate in the freezer.

Mash or blend your syrup-strawberry mix to your desired smoothness. It will get thicker as it cooks, so keep that in mind. I blend the life out of the strawberries because I like for it to be easy to spread on toast, my sister likes for the to still be strawberry chunks, so when I make it for her I just use the potato masher.

Turn on the heat! Boil it! Stir almost constantly. My recent batch took just under an hour to cook all the way. Once it starts boiling, turn the heat down to medium-low, I did like a 3 out of 10. If you stop stirring, goopy bubbles should appear like a slow motion boil. You will have like a pink foam on the top of the mix from the boiling. After about 30 minutes, the bubbling should be thicker and goopier. After about 40 minutes, the pink foam should almost go away when you stir the mix, like you can almost stir the bubbles into the mix.

Pull the plate out of the freezer and use the small spoon to spread a little bit of the mix onto the plate in a stripe. Hold the plate vertically so the stripe goes left to right. If the stripe immediately starts to drip down the plate, the mix isn't done yet, put the plate back in the freezer and keep cooking. Try again in like 5-10 minutes. If the mix DOESN'T immediately start dripping down the plate, turn the plate so the stripe goes up and down and swipe your finger through the stripe from leg to right (or right to left). The jam is done cooking when the stripe made from your finger through the stripe of mix holds and doesn't fill with dripping mix.

(If you have a candy thermometer, the jam is done when it reaches 220°f or 104°c)

CAREFULLY pour or scoop the jam into your preferred container. This jam is HOT and STICKY so please treat it like lava. This stuff is hotter than boiling water and will stick to you until you wash it off, don't let it touch your skin.

3 pounds of strawberries makes about 3 pint jars of jam with a little bit of room at the top of the jars. If you want to, you can properly can it and make it shelf-stable until it's opened, but I've never done that so your on your own. I just keep them in my fridge or give them to friends and neighbors.

I'm lucky enough to have a huge strawberry festival nearby every March. 20 pounds lasts me and my husband a year of jam, sorbet and cheung. I get them home, give them a vinegar bath, and trim them up before measuring out a bunch of one pound bags that I vacuum seal and freeze, and some 5 ounce (140 gram) servings for sorbet, also sealed and frozen.

Let me know if anyone wants the sorbet or cheug recipes.

Have fun! Be careful! Enjoy!

[unstablem8]

Nimona: "Hehehehe~"

Ambrosius: "What did you do?"

Nimona: " Boss got mad at me so I tightened all the lids on the jars so Boss would have to ask me for help."

Ballister: "MAADARACHOD KUTIYA!!!!"

(MOTHERFUCKING BITCH!!!!)

*SMASH*

Ballister: "LAANAT HAI!" (FUCK!)

Nimona: "It hasn't worked yet but it will eventually." *She giggled nervously*

Ambrosius: "Doubt it."

(May we get a F in the chat for the poor jar of strawberry jam)

[thecampjuicebox]

Hiii, I love your writing and I wanted to ask if you could make nsfw or sfw (or both) of Astarion or Gale x taller (fem presenting) reader? That's the base idea, the rest you can have fun with!:)

(Thank you for reading:))

eeeeee thank you so much!! Oh my gods I've been wanting to do tall fem Tav x Gale for soooooo loooong (Me being taller than Mr. Dekarios myself) 😈 Thank you so much for your submission! I hope you enjoy 💞

Purple

Pairing: Gale x Reader(f)

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: smut, fluff, rope bondage, bruising, whipping, edging, oral, orgasm denial, arousal from height difference, slight game spoilers

"My love? Could you come down here?"

Gale's voice is soft, yet strained and laced with a familiar frustration that brings a devilish smirk to your lips. It's painfully obvious just by his tone. He can't reach something again. Snapping the book you've been blissfully lost in for hours closed in your right hand, you rise to your feet and stretch your arms upward. Each vertebra in your long spine shifts, crackling, sending a shudder down to your legs that threatens your balance. With a huff, you start toward your lover's voice. A crash causes you to pick up your pace. Then another. Then another. Your footsteps quicken down the stairs and around the corner to the kitchen, the wizard in question standing with both palms pressed firmly to the countertop, shards of porcelain scattered around his slippered feet.

A frown plasters itself on your lips. You can feel the irritation radiating from the wizard like waves of deep purple weave, the hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. A cold feeling of pity swirls in your stomach. Seeing Gale upset makes your brain buzz like an angry hornet in a jam jar. Although.. Had he just waited for your help, there'd be much less of a mess to clean up. Placing your hands on your hips, you point your gaze at him, rolling your tongue around behind your teeth. A soft clear of your throat alerts Gale of your presence and he turns to look at you, eyebrows knitted together in his usual look of disappointment, eyes flicking to the debris at his feet.

"I've done it again."

"That you have, my sweet.."

A lighthearted chuckle erupts from the wizard's throat and he tilts his head back, deep caramel eyes squeezing shut as his thumb and index finger reach up to pinch at the wrinkled bridge of his nose. His laugh is soothing. Thick like honey and velvet in your ears. He kicks at the mess, small white shards of what used to be a plate sliding into a small pile beside him. "Can't take my anywhere, it seems." He mumbles under his breath. Your nerves calm, feet shuffling around the shards on the wooden floor, finally settling in front of Gale's shorter frame. Long arms circle around his neck like constricting vines and you place the softest kiss to his prickly chin. Warmth pools in your belly. Moments like this bring such peace to your otherwise hectic days. Bliss. Comfort. Careful hands settle on your hips, fingertips digging into the plush meat hidden beneath your robe. His eyes meet yours and your heart skips a million beats.

"My Goddess.. Any other pales in comparison."

His Goddess. Knowing of Gale's previous lover, and just how that went, his nickname for you always strikes a strange chord. You hadn't felt worthy of such a name before. Never heard it muttered so easily toward you, either. Yet here he stands, staring up at you as if you were Mystra herself during his younger years, before the Orb. His eyes sparkle. Glow, even. Little sparks of weave seem to dance around the two of you as you drink each others' company in, in your little tower in Waterdeep. Your closeness makes your stomach ache with desire. The mutual heaving of chests as you both breathe in each others' scents causes your mind to wander. Absentminded fingers twirl themselves in the soft hairs on the back of Gale's neck and he shudders at the sensation, hands gripping tighter at your hips, tight enough to bruise.

Hungry lips meet his, nearly sucking the air straight from each others' lungs, a tight seal between your two mouths. Gale stumbles back against the counter and you press into him tightly. Your curves fit against him like the most perfect puzzle piece and he lets out a primal groan, his hands moving from your luscious hips to the globes of your ass, clawing and kneading at the flesh covered by a thin layer of silk. The very silk robe he'd gifted you the day you moved to Waterdeep with him. "Woven by the gods themselves." he joked. It's the very robe you spotted in the window of Figaro's shop in Baldur's Gate while you'd still been traveling with your little friends behind your eyes. He took notice of the color. Eggplant purple. His favorite color on himself, and as he soon realized, on you. You'd talked about that robe for at least a tenday. Gawking with Astarion over the lace trim, the careful stitching, the high quality material. It seemed so royal to you. So foreign and new and wealthy. Gale bought it the day you spotted it and, somehow, kept it hidden for weeks. Tucked it away amongst his small pile of belongings in camp. Lucky for him you fell just as in love with him as he had with you, so his gift did not go to waste.

Warm hands work their way under the robe to leave careful claw marks down your thighs. The grunt that leaves your lips is enough of a sign to Gale. He's got you right where he wants you. Heat burns like the fires of the nine hells between your legs and you squeeze them together to dull the desperate ache settling within. Your lover takes notice, forceful hands adjusting your position so you're turned swiftly around and end up bent over the table in the middle of the kitchen, cheek pressed firmly into the oak. It takes a moment to blink yourself from your daze. You hadn't even noticed Gale's powerful grip on your hair with one hand, the other pressing into the small of your back to keep you against the surface of the table. His hips knock against your ass, the thick bulge in his leggings an indicator of how this evening is going to play out. You can't help but grin, cheek still squished into the wood beneath you, a small puddle of drool forming at the corner of your mouth.

"Wait here." Gale growls. His hands leave you for a moment and you not dare move from your spot. Minutes pass, feeling like hours, and the sudden softness of what feels like some kind of rope trails up one thigh, along your ass, and down the other thigh. You gasp at the sensation. Gale's foot kicks gently at the inner parts of your ankles, signaling for you to part your legs. You follow obediently and step each foot to the side. "Good.." he grunts, fiddling with the knot on the rope to release its length. Testing the waters, you wiggle your almost bare ass into the air, the silk fabric of your robe wrinkling and riding up to reveal your sex, already dripping with excitement. Pupils blown wide, he sinks to his knees to marvel at the sight, nose nudging against your warmth. You yelp against the table, hands reaching back to guide his head exactly where you want him. He dodges your grasp and lands a swift thwip of the silk rope against your ass, leaving a delicious red line.

"Not yet. Not until you cry for me."

You mewl from the pain, your pathetic sounds not deceiving Gale for even a second. He'd watched you take quite the beating from Abdirak in the Selunite outpost. Heard your exaggerated cries for help. Watched you grip at the bloodied bricks as the Servant of Loviatar landed blow after blow against your back, bottom, and legs. Reveled at the way you flashed a grin at Astarion when he asked for an encore. He also heard the way you pleasured yourself that very night. The way you moaned for more, hand plunging deep in your leathers while you sat in that clearing, blissfully unaware that someone was watching. Your filthy sounds and words lived in his mind during your travels together, and he pondered long and hard about how to give you the same pleasure you'd felt while earning Loviatar's blessing. How he, a learned wizard from Waterdeep, could expand his horizons and delve deep into your most depraved desires. And so he did just that. Read every book he could find on the subject. Studied every word again and again until he felt he was ready. And your first night together was nothing short of god-like. Every night tangled up together after that has been exactly the same. An intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure that opened new doors Gale never thought to unlock in the first place, let alone take a step through.

Your tall frame remains bent over the dinner table and Gale takes a step back to assess his next move. The silk rope glides between his fingers with skillful ease as he unravels it, one tail end wrapping tightly around his hand while the slack end hangs around his knees. You wait with baited breath. Wait for the next blow. The next move. Anything. Searing pain shoots down your legs as you're granted momentary release, the rope leaving a hot stripe across your other ass cheek now. You cry out, jaw falling open. "Yes, yes.. So good for me. Louder." Then another hit. Thwip. And another. And another. Black spots invade your vision, your sex absolutely weeping between your thighs now. Deep purple bruises speckle the almost broken skin and Gale runs his fingers over the lashes, grinning as you hiss from his touch. "G-Gale.. P-Please.." You beg, a whimper causing your voice to crack.

"Arms behind your back for me. Remain obedient and you'll be rewarded."

You fold your arms behind your back, chest pressing firmly into the table now, almost uncomfortably. The rope finds a new home wrapped tightly around the upper part of your arms, intricate knots attaching your two arms together as one unit. The remaining rope ends snake between your legs on either side of your sex, the almost burning friction making you shift in your spot with excitement. More knots keep the rope steady, your robe pulled up and out of the way to allow the rope to connect with the restraints on your arms. You stand there, wrapped like a Midwinter present. Gale takes another step back to admire his work, his hand palming at the painful erection in his leggings. "Aren't you beautiful.." He mumbles. Your lover moves toward you once more, lips connecting to the deep purple bruises on your raised ass. He groans at the taste of you, the sweetness in your sweat, the musk emanating from between your thighs, the metallic tang of your blood from the small cuts the rope left behind on your skin.

Strong hands tug you closer to him. His nose probes between your ass cheeks, tongue lapping at your sex with a feverish pace that makes your knees buckle. "Gods, Gale!" You yell against the oak table, head unable to lift itself because of the way he's so expertly pinned you there. Rendered you completely hopeless. At his mercy. You dig your nails into your own forearms. Gale lands a hefty smack to either side of your ass cheeks, squishing his face between them as he devours you. The knot in your belly tightens, winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each flick of his tongue. With each slap to your skin. You moan, yell, scream, cry out, drool all over yourself. The assault of his tongue halts and he grins as you keen back at him from the lack of stimulation.

He repeats this over and over, denying you each time you nearly topple over the precipice of ecstasy. One hand slips into Gale's leggings and he palms at his angry cock, precum slick against the velvet fabric. Quiet moans rumble against you and you tense completely. "I'm almost- I need to- Gods, Gale please!" Your voice is desperate. Broken. Absolutely drunk with pleasure. Still he denies you. Teases you. Breaks you even further. With a swift motion, Gale stands, his free hand moving between your legs to cup your sex, rubbing against it at a furiously slow pace. His other hand remains inside of his leggings, working his cock to his own end selfishly. The wizard leans against the table to look at you, teeth catching his plush bottom lip as he admires how much of a mess you've become. The shiny drool covering the tabletop around your face. His hand leaves his cock, fingers probing at your parted lips and you move your tongue out against them, tasting the salt of his seed, eyes blinking innocently up at him as he continues to move his hand against you just enough to deny you of your orgasm further. He smiles sweetly at you, watching your tongue work against his fingers. Caramel eyes scan over your body and he leans in to mumble softly into your ear.

"Have I ever told you how incredible you look in purple?"

[starboundpix]

iii. (love is) a surprise

you really should have read that farm helper animatronic manual. how were you supposed to know that sun was no longer sun at night?

daycare attendant x reader ✧ 2.0k words farm au, gender neutral reader, reader is a farmer, reader has a pet dog, animatronic rights, minor blood and injury.

note: it took a while (due to graduation and vacation) but i'm happy to finally present the third chapter! ngl the more i was editing it the less sure i was about being any good so i really hope you'll enjoy it >u<

Having a new permanent resident to the farm—especially an animatronic—brings forth a whole slew of questions and problems you never had to think about before. Animatronic rights are currently under state jurisdiction and your state has just about no laws about them. Some laws have been proposed, but a good portion of the public and your state legislators are staunchly against giving animatronics any rights or freedom. Your nose scrunches up in distaste. The topic of animatronic rights hasn't been one of your priorities in the past, but after showing Sun around your farm all day, you know you can’t treat him like your farm machinery or animals—not even the way you treat Pluto.

These thoughts weigh on you in the evening as you make dinner alone. Sun had disappeared into his room after you gave him a tour of the farm and showed him how you complete some of your daily tasks. Despite the rocky start you had with him, he expressed interest in how your farm operates and picked everything up instantly. He seemed to like the animals in particular. They in turn were not affected by the fact that the new addition to the farm is a walking, talking, pile of metal. Henrietta in particular had no problem walking up to Sun and pecking him in the foot.

You need to figure out how exactly you want to treat him.

After eating dinner, you pull out your laptop and settle into the couch in the living room. Pluto needs no invitation to hop on beside you. With the TV on and playing a show for background noise, you start to do some research, pulling up news articles and legislation made in different states that address android rights. The amount of information out there is a bit overwhelming, but you plod through it, learning about what has been happening and forming your own ideas.

An hour or two passes and the urge to grab a snack to munch on grows until your stomach grumbles. So you shut your laptop, extract yourself from the cushions of the couch with a groan, and walk into the kitchen. Pluto watches you leave but quickly rests his head back on his front legs, dozing off on the couch.

Since the lights are on in the living room, the kitchen isn’t too dark, so you don’t bother with any additional lights as you put a snack together. You pull a sleeve of crackers out of a cabinet and dump a couple onto your plate. Opening your fridge makes you squint for a second from the automatic light, but you are quick to find a tub of cream cheese and a jar of jam—homemade with blueberries you grew last summer—and scoop some of each onto your plate.

Having assembled your snack, you put everything away and pick up your plate.

Something shifts in the hallway behind you.

You whirl around, looking into the darkness—and the dark stares back with two glowing red eyes, accompanied by a looming silhouette that blends into the shadows. 

A shriek leaves your lips. Your heart pounds in your chest. Hands sweaty, your plate slips from your grasp, smashing into pieces against the tile floor, sending jam, cream cheese, crackers, and ceramic shards flying across your kitchen.

Pluto barks, adding to the chaos. Moments later, he runs into view, nails clacking against the floor as he prepares to enter the kitchen and run to your side.

“Pluto, stop!” you yell, voice strained, holding one hand out toward him. “Stay,” you add. You don’t take your eyes off of the shadow down the hall, but in your peripheral vision, you see Pluto stand still.

Your shoulders relax a fraction now that you do not have to worry about your dog getting hurt on the shattered plate. But your heart still beats quickly and your thoughts are racing, knowing the stress is not gone yet. This intruder is a much bigger concern.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Somehow, you manage to keep your voice steady this time.

The figure snickers, but sounds more mean than amused. “Did the little human forget about us already? This is a new record.” With each word spoken, the glowing red eyes shift and grow larger as he takes one step after another toward you. “I live here now.”

You tense. “Stay- stay back!” He doesn’t stop, so you shuffle backward, keeping the kitchen island between you and the stranger. “Who are you?” you ask again. “What do you want?”

Just as the figure reaches the end of the hallway, you bump into the kitchen counter behind you, pain shooting through your entire body.

You blink hard, bracing against the countertop as the pain slowly fades. When you have steadied yourself, you refocus your gaze on the intruder, eyes widening as you take him in, now lit by the dim living room lighting that spills over into the kitchen.

“Sun?” you ask hesitantly, but you already know that’s not quite right. The figure—an animatronic—looks similar in stature to your new farm helper, though he lacks the triangular pieces of metal that frames Sun’s face. This one is painted in much darker colors. Light grey contrasts against the obsidian on his face plate, and his limbs are a mix of deep, rich blues and midnight black. On a closer look, silver points of light glimmer from his arms; they are stars and constellations that mimic the night sky, you realize. 

“Moon,” he says. You detect amusement in his voice, but it feels rather like the amusement you get from seeing Henrietta peck at anything other than a bug and her resulting cluck of confusion.

Hesitating, you finally manage to respond with, “Erm, it’s nice to meet you, Moon.” The sentiment is not quite genuine due to the scare, but now that you know he’s not actively a threat, you wish you meant it. At least this first meeting is not going any worse than your introduction to Sun—you haven’t insulted Moon yet.

You introduce yourself to the animatronic, just in case he isn’t aware of you doing so this morning, and ask, “Is there anything I can help you with? Did you need something?” He probably would not have wandered out of his room without a reason.

Red eyes blink, and Moon’s head tilts to the side. He’s silent for a moment, seeming to stare past you—similar to Sun’s behavior earlier in the day. Then he refocuses on you. “I need cleaning supplies.” His gaze travels downward, eyeing you and your kitchen. “You do, too.”

The implication that you need to clean your kitchen would normally make you bristle, but as you look down too, a grimace crosses your face at the disaster of broken crackers, splattered jam and cream cheese, and shards of the plate. Your eyes catch on your right foot. A bit of dark liquid that looks like blueberry jam slides down the outer side, but it’s as the dull throbbing becomes noticeable that you realize, “Oh. I’m bleeding.”

Your foot is really starting to hurt, but you refuse to show any visible signs of pain. The sooner you get Moon his cleaning supplies, the sooner you can tend to your wound and clean the mess in your kitchen without his piercing red eyes following your every move. His standoffish-ness makes you on edge around him, even more so than Sun and his snarky words. “The first door in the hallway is a closet. I think there are some cleaning rags, sprays, a broom- um, grab whatever you need.” As the animatronic steps back to open the closet door, you can’t help but ask, “What are the cleaning supplies for?”

“Our room,” Moon says. “It’s dirty. Sun hates messes.”

You wince, thinking of all the dust that has accumulated since the last time your aunt visited. She stopped by months ago during the fall to spend Thanksgiving with you, and the guest bedroom hasn’t seen another soul since. Cleaning a bedroom no one uses has been the last thing on your mind with all the other things keeping you busy on your farm.

“Sorry about that,” you say, shifting your weight to your good leg. “I normally clean the room whenever I know guests are coming over, but…” You trail off, then offer, “I can clean it tomorrow morning if you’d rather rest, or charge, or, uh, do whatever you need to do.”

He is quick to respond. “No need.” Moon pulls out squares of cleaning rags and a lavender scented multipurpose cleaning spray.

You look away from the animatronic, eyes falling on Pluto. A small smile rises to your face, your first since your scare this evening. He has been patiently waiting ever since you told him to stay, and now lies on the floor at the perimeter of the kitchen, nearly asleep, having dismissed Moon from being a threat. 

A sudden clack makes you flinch, but when you catch sight of the broom that now rests on top of the kitchen island, a noise of surprise escapes your lips. As Moon’s hand retreats, you move forward—mindful of stepping on any more plate shards—and pick up the broom and attached dustpan. “Thanks,” you say.

His only response is a slow shuttering of his eyes, red light disappearing for a brief moment. He closes the closet door, turns his back on you, and starts shuffling down the hall toward his room.

It’s only after the bedroom door closes behind him do you sigh and let out a small laugh. Moon looked a lot less scary walking away with a slouched back and cleaning supplies in his hands than he did as an ominous shadow with glowing crimson eyes standing in the dark hallway. The remaining tension seeps out of your body, and you sag against the kitchen island. If Sun and Moon make it a habit to scare you, your heart won’t last for very long.

With a sigh, you start sweeping up the shards of plate and crackers. You leave the cream cheese and jam alone for now—those stains need a good scrub with a sponge or cleaning cloth—and you still have to patch up your foot first. Once you gather everything on your dustpan, you find a plastic bag to dump the mess in before tying the bag up and tossing it in the trash.

Now you need some alcohol wipes and a bandage for your foot. Unfortunately, your first aid supplies are all upstairs in your bathroom cabinet. You resort to doing a weird crawl to get up the stairs, using your hands and knees to avoid getting blood all over the floor. 

Thank goodness Pluto is the only one who has to witness your actions. 

He follows you up the stairs and into the bathroom, where you sit on the floor and pull out what you need to clean your cut. The sting of the alcohol wipes makes you wince, but soon the wound is covered with a moon and star covered band-aid. 

You scowl. The entire box of bandages are celestial themed, having patterns of suns, clouds, moons, and stars printed in pretty colors. In fact, plenty of other space themed trinkets and decor fill your house. Now, thanks to your aunt, an animatronic that is the sun and moon personified lives on your farm. Your interactions with them have not been the most pleasant thus far, but you hope that will change.

These thoughts run through your head as you return downstairs and finish cleaning up the kitchen. You stop by the living room to grab your laptop and turn off the lights before climbing the stairs to settle in your bedroom for the night. 

Pluto is already fast asleep on the rug at the base of your bed when you exit the bathroom, having changed into your pajamas. You crawl into bed, slipping under the covers—spring nights do get pretty chilly, after all—and turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

As you start drifting off to sleep, exhausted from a long and high-emotion day, you add one task to the top of your mental checklist for tomorrow.

You really need to read that farm helper manual.

note: wahooo we've officially met moon! i sure hope they'll warm up to reader soon though, or else poor reader is in for a rough time.

by the way, my wonderful friend @/lunarmoves drew this amazing art of farm helper sun! (scary scarecrow version >u< ) it looks so cool, please check it out!

also, i doodled little sun and moon themed band-aids based off of this chapter! you can find them here.

series masterlist ✧ part two ✧ part four (wip)

[sporadicthingcollection]

A Day in the Life (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: The days are never dull with a baby on board. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: 🌶 Explicit 🌶 Word Count: ~3.2k Warnings: Infants in very mild peril, cunnilingus, PiV sex A/N: daddy buggy my beloved

---

4:41

Keeda’s fussing before the sun’s even up. And then you start fussing as soon as Keeda starts fussing.

“Your kid’s awake,” you grumble into his back.

Buggy has no choice but to fuss back. “Before dawn, he’s your kid.” You nudge him with your foot. He huffs. “I’m comfy, bitch. Get 'im yourself.”

You do not appreciate how comfortable he is. You knee his ass with each word -- not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “You. Are. A. Chop Chop man.”

...Yeah, alright, that's fair. Detaching his head and arms, he floats himself over to the crib.

Any other child would be concerned if their father’s disembodied head hovered above them, but Keeda’s never known any different. His grumbles turn to happy babbles, his chubby little face lighting up like the moon.

“Mornin’, ya li’l rugrat,” he says with a smile. “Starting on your bullshit early today, huh?”

He slips his hands under the boy’s arms and lifts him up and over to the bed. He's getting heavier, maybe about as much as a decent-sized cannonball. Makes sense, given his parents’ heights. 

His parts rejoin the rest of him and he lays back down, placing the baby on his chest. He's still not too big for that, at least.

You roll over — more of an aggressive flop, really — and tuck yourself up under his arm. “Hey, bug.”

"Hi, dear," Buggy replies.

You rest your head on his shoulder as you lay your hand on your son's back, rubbing in small circles. Keeda lets out a happy coo, his little fingers curling as he reaches out to you.

You take his hand and stroke it with your thumb. "Back to sleep, sweet baby," you mumble, already halfway there. "Back to sleep..."

Buggy waits for your breathing to even out and for Keeda to go still before he lays his head against yours.

———

9:03

"Son of a bitch!"

Buggy watches as you pitch the jar of baby food and spoon over the deck railing. "First you wake me up, then you pee on me, and now you won't eat!” You jam your finger into Keeda's face. “Why are you being such a little fucker today?!"

The boy giggles, kicking his legs and smearing his breakfast around. He's got your laugh, but that little hater attitude couldn't have come from anybody but his father.

Buggy's just glad it's not his turn to feed him. "Food's supposed to go in his mouth, ya know."

You flip him off without even looking at him. Keeda waggles his fingers like he's trying to mimic you, but he doesn't quite have the motor control down yet.

“I'm gonna go get a new jar,” you grumble. “Make sure he doesn't spontaneously combust or some shit.”

You slink off without waiting for confirmation. Buggy's not worried. You'll cool off in no time. And he gets to watch your ass as you walk away.

He turns his full attention to Keeda. He picks the boy up into his arms. “You really wanna piss your mom off?” he asks. The boy babbles in what he decides is a yes. “Give her hair a yank. She spent all morning on it and it'll drive her nuts.”

He knows Keeda shouldn't be able to understand him, but there's a sparkle of recognition in those big dark eyes as he reaches a little hand out to touch the hair peeking out from under Buggy’s bandana.

He knows grabby fingers when he sees them. He angles his head away. This does not deter Keeda, but merely changes his target.

And now for the most confusing emotion he's ever had. There's the usual agitation that comes from someone noticing... it... but it's Keeda. He's never mocked it or thought it odd or asked questions. He just thinks his daddy's neat.

He can't help the slight smile as he lets Keeda touch his face.

———

9:50

Richie’s liked Keeda from day one. He’s always smelling him and headbutting him and gently pawing him. Mohji thinks it's because he's trying to scent-mark the kid.

“Should I do something?” Buggy asks quietly.

Mohji shrugs. “He's laughing, isn't he? Richie wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Keeda giggles as Richie presses his nose against his head, gently sniffing. Richie lets out a pleased chuffle as he rubs his whiskers along Keeda’s face.

Mohji crosses his arms. “He doesn't do that to me,” he mutters.

“I’ll dunk you in tuna oil, if you want,” Buggy says. “He'll be all over you.”

“I think I'll pass--” Disgust turns to horror as Mohji blanches. “Oh shit!” 

Buggy whirls around. Richie has Keeda in his mouth. Completely in his mouth. Richie is a big lion and Keeda is a small baby.

Panic grips him. He's never actually had to fight a lion before, but it looks like that's what he's gonna have to do. You're gonna kill him anyways, so might as well go out in style--

Richie deposits Keeda at Buggy’s feet. The boy looks no worse for wear, if not a little confused and covered in kitty drool. The overgrown house cat looks very pleased with himself for taking a few years off of Buggy’s life.

Buggy glowers at Mohji. Mohji avoids eye contact and tries to shrink into his hoodie.

———

10:15

Well, after that, baby needs a bath. Fortunately, the giant soup pot in the galley is the perfect size for a little guy like Keeda.

Buggy hums an aimless tune as he rubs the shampoo into Keeda's hair. It's dark and thick like yours -- not to mention long. Kid’s hair grows faster than the rest of him.

He scoops up a fingerful of bubbles, then gently boops Keeda's little nose. The boy’s face scrunches up, and he goes cross-eyed as he grumbles.

An intrusive thought takes root. He chuckles to himself as he smooths Keeda's hair upwards. “Look, babe. Mohawk.”

“Keep the suds out of his eyes,” you warn from the doorway. 

He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna let him drown, ya know. You don't have to hover.”

You smile that narrow little smile of yours. “I like watching my boys.”

Buggy's chest tightens. How can one expression, one quirk of your lips, one flash of teeth make his stomach backflip? His breath catch? His cheeks burn?

A splash of sudsy water rushes up to hit him in the face. Seems the kid’s discovered volume displacement. He regrets going with a full beat this morning. Between the splashed water and the heat in his cheeks, this makeup is gonna melt right off.

———

12:24

Dropping an ear in Keeda's crib while he napped was a brilliant idea. Amazing, even. Buggy can be off doing Hot Dad Shit but still come running at the first sign of trouble.

And then the baby found it and it became less of a good idea.

"C'mon, give it back." He reaches for the ear, but Keeda shifts just out of reach, clutching it to his chest. Given the boy's grip strength, he can't just yank it out of his hands without ripping cartilage.

Buggy hears Keeda's heartbeat thumping as he slumps against the edge of the crib. "What the hell could you possibly want with an ear?"

Keeda looks him dead in the eyes. Slowly, slowly, slowly, he brings the ear to his mouth.

Buggy has never moved faster in his life. He shoots his hand off and claps it over Keeda's mouth. You were right, he is being a little fucker today.

Keeda's muffled whines catch your attention, and you stick your head into the cabin. "Having trouble, Captain?" you ask with a smirk.

"Your son's being a dick."

The smirk grows into a smile. "He gets it from his father."

———

14:21

As Captain, sometimes one must spring into action and help secure a loose cannon threatening to smash the hull. For that reason, Buggy appreciates his crew’s tolerance of having a baby shoved into their arms at barely a moment’s notice. Alvida, especially. He’s never known her to like kids, let alone infants, but she seems to make an exception for little Keeda. Sometimes he thinks she makes up reasons just to hold him for a bit.

She's smiling a big, cheesy smile at him as he returns from his heroics. The kid gazes up at her with his enormous eyes, returning the grin. Alvida then sticks out her tongue. Keeda does the same. She blows a raspberry, and Keeda giggles.

“Having fun with Auntie ‘Vida?” he asks.

“Time of his life.” She makes an angry face. Keeda's mouth screws up into a grumpy frown. “It's crazy how much he looks like you. Especially considering he doesn't have your--”

Her mouth shuts so hard and so suddenly that her teeth click.

Buggy keeps his voice low and even. “Doesn't have my what?”

Alvida blinks. “Hair. I was gonna say hair.”

...you know what? Acceptable.

“Eh, I'm just glad he's got ten fingers and ten toes.” He ignores the relief on her face as he takes his boy back. “His mom’s prettier anyways.”

———

15:46

You don't need a detached ear to know when your son is crying. Somehow, you know. You can be down in the bilge and you'll hear his whining from the top deck.

"What's going on?" you ask as you come up on deck.

Buggy watches as Keeda flops over onto his belly, thrashing his limbs and wailing. "He's mad because I won't load him into the cannon."

Keeda pauses in his fit as sees you, then lets out a bwuuuuuuuh and continues. He looks very much like a fresh fish as he flails around.

You watch him for a moment, then look at Buggy. A silly little glint sparkles in your eyes, the one that you have when you get a bad idea. The same one he saw during that first kiss you shared together.

“He would fit in a Buggy Ball shell,” he says.

You stare at him a moment longer, then shake your head. “We shouldn't.” Keeda lets out a wail that makes you flinch. “But we could.”

After a few moments, the boy runs out of steam, lying there like a dead bird on a beach and whimpering pathetically.

Buggy scoops him into his arms and brushes the tears away. "Can't load ya up, li'l man, but wanna see it go..." He pops his hands off and splays his fingers in front of Keeda's face, popping them apart at the knuckles. "...ka-boom?"

Keeda's agitation melts away like an ice cube in Hell, replaced with wide-eyed wonder. You take him and sit on a crate, covering his ears. You give Buggy a nod.

He grins. He points at a pair of idling crewmen -- the artillery boys, fortunately. "Ready piece!" he barks. “And make it snappy! My kid’s in the audience!”

Buggy appreciates how they trip over themselves rushing to the cannon. He really is lucky that his crew likes his kid half as much as he does.  Even if they “kidnap” him sometimes and hide him in the crew quarters to dote on him and to stress his parents out.

In moments, the Buggy Ball is loaded, the powder set, and the artillerymen stand at attention, waiting to light the fuse.

He holds his fist up. "Aim!"

The cannon is already in place, but he pauses for dramatic effect. A quick glance at Keeda's wide eyes and your little smile confirms it's working. 

He gives you both a little wink  "Fire!"

With a bang and a whistle, the shell flies up into the air. A safe distance away, it explodes into a shower of smoky crimson streaks.

They reflect nicely in your smiling eyes as Keeda squeals in delight.

———

19:02

Buggy sticks his tongue out. "Blah."

Keeda sticks his tongue out. "Blelck."

He puffs his cheeks out. Keeda puffs his cheeks out. He puckers his lips. Keeda puckers his lips.

He opens his mouth. "Ah."

Keeda opens his mouth as wide as he can, showing off his little pink gums. "Ah!"

Buggy jams the spoon in there before Keeda can even react. Blinking in surprise, he swallows, even licking some stray banana mush from his lips.

You watch, slumped across the table with your chin in your hand. "How are you so good at that?"

"Clown to clown communication. Sounds like this." He puts the spoon down and, squishing Keeda's cheeks, affects a croaky voice. "’Feed me. Feed meeee.’"

Your laugh your lovely seagull laugh and his heart flutters like a hummingbird.

———

20:50

“Don’t wake him up,” you warn as you open the door to the main cabin.

"I know, I know." He separates himself at the waist. “Floating, see? Shock absorber.”

Keeda snuffles and twitches. You both freeze, praying that he doesn’t wake up. He does not, and you relax.

You side eye him as he crosses the room, not letting up until he lays the boy down into the crib. You slip Mr Toucan in next to Keeda and pull the blanket up around him.

"Sweet dreams, li’l bug," you say.

"I'm not going to bed yet." You glower at him and he grins. That's never going to get old.

You tiptoe out with him close behind. He leaves his ear on the table, just in case.

The door clicks shut, and you both let out your held breaths. You hold your fist out and he knocks his knuckles against yours.

“Good job this time, Dad,” you say.

“I can be subtle when I want to be.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders. "Y’know, I was thinking..."

The breeze tousles your glossy hair so artfully. "Was wondering where the smoke was coming from."

He pulls you in closer, his hand wandering to the top of your thigh. You've been bitching about baby weight, but to him? You've never looked better. "Was thinking... Wanna make another?"

You give him a smirk that makes his cock twitch. You cross your muscular arms and it turns into a pulse. "Weird way to ask to go bareback."

"No, I mean it,” he says. "He looks like you and I want one that looks like me. Balance it out."

You breathe in sharply. The mischief in your eyes fades, replaced with thoughtfulness. You duck out from under his arm to saunter away. “Sell me on it.”

He follows. “What's cuter than one Keeda? Two Keedas,” he says. “Especially if it's a girl. Built-in double act. And I've got the perfect name for a girl.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a big stupid grin. “Buggetta.”

You stare at him a moment, then crack a smile and make that glorious, glorious snnnrk noise. “Absolutely not.”

“To the name or to another kid? Because I'm fine with Buggy Junior if it's a boy--”

“Over my dead body we name a kid that.”

"Alright. Fine." He grabs your hips and pushes you against the deck railing. "Guess I'll just fuck you 'til you're knocked up again anyways and we can improvise."

You suck in a breath. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips. He goes in for a kiss, but you duck beneath his arms.

“Catch me and you can do whatever you want with me,” you say before taking off.

He sprints after you.

———

21:24

He wanted to be romantic. He wanted to be cool and suave and sweet for you. You, light of his life and his hard-won prize. You, his partner in crime and mother of his child. You deserve nothing less than the sultriest, slowest, languidest of lovemaking, full of sweet nothings whispered breathlessly into your thighs.

Unfortunately, just looking at you makes his cock leak and if he doesn't strip you down and fill you up as soon as possible, he's gonna make a mess of his last clean pair of underwear.

So that's how you ended up pinned between him and a crate in the cargo hold, moaning like a bitch in heat as he ruts into you. He's lucky you like it like that.

“Harder!” you spit.

He grunts into your shoulder as he snaps his hips. His tongue is busy taste-testing that sweet sweet clit of yours.

You let out a long, guttural groan. “Less talking, more -- ah, ff--!”

He must have hit something nice, because your back arches and your pussy flutters around his cock, squeezing it tight and making him damn near black out.

He hates this stupid condom. Hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates how he can't feel your warmth, your slick, your soft, satin walls as they clench. Hates how he can't fill you up with his cum, painting those lovely walls a pearly, sticky white. Hates how he can't fuck another baby into you.

...unless. Unless he's lucky and it breaks. Or if it's just a piece of cheap shit not worth the paper box it came out of.

Oh yes. Oh, then he'd be lucky. Then he'd get what he wants. He'd get you pregnant. Again. You’d be all soft around the edges and glowing like a full, terracotta moon with hair as glossy as a fresh tube of lipstick.

His hips stutter. Yes yes yes yes yes--!

He grips your hips tight as he thrusts into you, not stopping until his balls are drained and his cock is limp. He flops against you, burying his face in your minty, citrusy, cinnamon-y hair.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

He can hear the smile in your voice. “Love you too, Bugs.”

———

00:57

Sad little whimpers in his ear distract him from his carousing with the crew. You're significantly more fucked up than he is and on round eight of a three-round game of cards, so he slips away without disturbing you.

Keeda is sleeping when he enters his cabin, but the little twitches and whimpers suggest it’s not a restful one.

He tickles the bottom of his foot -- his teeny tiny little foot -- and the boy wakes with a start. He starts to cry, only to falter as he sees his father, his lip quivering and his eyes watering. 

Buggy scoops the boy into his arms. “Shh,” he says. “Daddy's here. Don't worry.”

He strokes his fingers through the boy’s hair. Keeda coos like a dove, trying to burrow his face into his chest. Failing in that endeavor, he peers up at Buggy with those enormous eyes.

Somewhere, deep in his heart, Buggy knows that all the treasure in the world couldn't match the feeling of holding his son in his arms. And that all the praise and all the applause would be nothing compared to the way you smile at him like you have a secret to keep.

But why settle for just two people when he could have the adoration of them all?

He sits down on the bed, propped up against the headboard, cradling the boy close. “You're gonna be a prince someday,” he whispers. “A little pirate prince. Daddy’s gonna be king and they’re gonna love you as much as him.”

Keeda exhales heavily, letting out a soft peep as he goes limp. His eyes drift closed.

Buggy is suddenly very aware of how tired he is. He lays back into the pillows. “Go to sleep,” he murmurs. “Go to sleep...”

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[fountainpenguin]

Mind Over Magic

Crocker stuffing the cafeteria ceiling full of Fs...

So funny that A.J.'s reaction to Timmy getting answers right on a quiz is that he's lucky and Chester just assumes Timmy cheated somehow.

Wanda really has no filter... She'll just call her godchild a jerk with no hesitation. lmao.

I love Veronica's crush on Timmy.

Elmer has life so freakin' rough. There's just one kid in this class who's inexplicably possessed... incredible. <- Has a sudden urge to binge "Never Had a Friend Like Me" again.

I totally forgot Crocker knows about Elmer's mind control situation (or at least, we know Elmer asked him about it and Crocker promised to help him).

Wanda holding an entire armful of candy while Timmy gets only one piece... lol.

Hard Copy

Remembering how afraid Cosmo is of the doctor... Me glancing awkwardly at my 'fics like "Yeah, that tracks."

Cracks me up that Wanda and Juandissimo have an ongoing relationship of her using him "as bait." That's just what they are and he will play along every time... They are so funny.

This is such a good episode for Wanda... All the magical mistakes and poor choices in this episode are hers. I like when she pulls a jar of jam from the copier and starts eating it, completely forgetting what Timmy asked for... or when she and Timmy eat cake instead of solving the magical mishap affecting them. Very Season 7-esque when they have a tea party while Cosmo's gone ("Super Zero").

RIP Flipsie's indoctrination into a life of crime.

Parenthoods

Still so funny that Cosmo loves Canada in this episode and then in Season 7, you learn he's convinced his brother invented Canada.

I want Hazel to meet Schnozmo so bad...

Every time Mr. Turner calls his wife nicknames like Snugglebutt I lose my mind. Man just loves fawning over his wife.

Lol, there's a scene in Frayed Knots I wrote years ago that we're almost upon, and it draws directly from this episode (Anti-Wanda convinced the Anti-Fairy legal system will see her through).

Timmy has some really cute body language in this episode.

Honestly, this is one of my favorite episodes- it's just so silly and cute. Good use of magic and shapeshifting, lots of fun jokes like magic bending the fabric of the world like a map (or Timmy trying to assist with a theft).

-> I have a draft somewhere where I note down odd things that aren't against Da Rules, and I think "Assisting with crime" is one I need to add.

THERE THEY ARE! Cosmo and Wanda turn into rats at the end of this episode, and I think that's the shape of the rat I saw during my first watch of "1500 Minutes of Fame" and wondered if I'd seen it before. I'll have to compare these sometime.

The Big Superhero Wish

I have a soft spot for "Big Superhero Wish" because it's one of the first episodes I ever saw (during a visit to a pizza place when the sound was muted).

-> I think it's a fun one in the way it looks at relationships between random schoolkids (Especially Veronica). I also enjoy how Chester gets to chew through matter in this episode and then when you get to Season 5, he's trying to chew his way out of the F.U.N. Academy with the same "Munch munch munch" dialogue he does here.

Apparently Nega-Chin can tell Timmy and Remy apart even though regular Crimson Chin can't.

Timmy drowning in papers marked F followed by "Cool, there's a D in here!"

I like watching Timmy's average problems like getting picked on and wanting a glass of milk to cheer him up, but not even getting that.

Minotaur Francis is everything to me...

I like how Crocker knows a lot about comics, but specifically because he's confiscated them from kids during class. Playing that against his miserable child upbringing is kind of funny... I wonder if he read many comics as a kid, or if that's not something he ever really wished for.

Actually, Timmy being cut off before finishing a wish is something I would've liked to see more often. It's just silly. The tension balance in this episode once the heroes are wished away and villains stay is pretty good.

ksdlkfj, "I used my regular kid window-opening powers!" Elmer...

Totally forgot Chester ran up to Vicky and bit her on the leg, oh geez.

"My nega-vision will cut through your bodies like nega-vision!"

I would've loved an episode where Timmy goes into the real world to rescue the writer of the Crimson Chin comics since this episode ends with the Nega-Chin taking him captive. Alas. I guess I could write a 'fic about that, but I think it defeats the point a little when the visuals aren't going to change, haha.

I really want to watch "Masked Magician" again now, but I think that's later in Season 5 so it'll come up later in my binge.

Vicky Loses Her Icky

Ooh, Sanderson head gag means "Pixies Inc." is coming up after this!

This episode is so goofy. Timmy's parents hire Vicky to babysit Timmy while they sit in the car in the driveway, waiting to be hungry enough to leave to the restaurant.

I wonder why I always see people complain this episode is annoying for "giving Vicky the backstory of being evil due to being bitten by a bug," because it's clearly stated that the bug came about because she was mean and Cosmo and Wanda had to give it physical form to remove it [Wanda claiming "All that evil has to go somewhere"]. /shrug

Here it is! I've been trying to remember what the "corn on Pluto" episode was.

I don't... I don't love Vicky saying she's leaving to donate organs. Are they HER organs?

Alarm bells instantly ringing when Vicky offers to dig people basements. I don't think Dale would like that.

Shout-out to Timmy's dad being rescued from the evil bug and immediately saying, "Hey, we're at the Cake 'N Bacon... Are we at least being nice?"

President dressing up like George Washington was such a funny way to avoid depicting a specific president.

Pixies Inc.

My boys are in the house!!

How have I literally never noticed Timmy's in the Future Business Leaders of America club...

Y'know, I always thought H.P. was just blatantly losing the golf game despite cheating, but watching again, the reason he has more strokes than Timmy in golf is because he went first.

Never not funny how many emotions the Pixies show when they're actually spooked or sad. They talk in monotone, but still make expressions... and that's not even counting their silly dialogue. I love them.

Dale Dimmadome & H.P. dynamic is so silly to me... Dale grew up around Dimmadome Farms [implied] and runs a burger chain, and the soy- & rice-loving Pixies aren't exactly known for eating meat. I just want them to try getting on the same page and continually hit roadblocks that make it weird.

Baby Face

I had no memory of "Baby Face" coming immediately after "Pixies Inc.," but oh my gosh does that make the "Gary and Betty seemingly knew about Pixies the whole time" theory funnier.

There they are! My other sillies are in the house!

Wait.......... hold up. Were Gary and Betty in the room when Timmy made his baby wish? -> There... there's no door behind them when the camera pans over.

They are so dang sus. Why were these babies unsupervised. Why did they not hesitate for a split-second before cramming Francis in a teeny tiny cage..... They are my everything.

crying at the huge crash sound effect that hits as Gary and Betty open the door off-screen. Why are they like that...

I say this every time I watch this episode, but Gary and Betty opting not to help a crying child and instead lock him in a soundproof dome is so dang funny. These two should not be left with kids. If they show up in New Wish with the Pixies, I will die actually... I still can't believe we got a Flappy Bob cameo. My son.

I feel like Vicky knowing Gary's and Betty's fun box song by heart is such a neat detail. Why is she hanging out with them. Why would they ever hang out with her. Fascinating...

Mr. Right

Another of the episodes I watched muted at a pizza place once upon a time...

Timmy and Melvin shoved into the same locker is giving me Leonard/Tammy flashbacks.

Elmer really doesn't keep his problems secret, huh? ("The boil doesn't like to be touched!")

Shout-out to the running gag of Francis scheduling his beatings.

I wonder why Vicky didn't go to school. The elementary school got out early. Maybe "recording Timmy's pain for future generations as a short film" was her homework.

...... Okay, actually.... I can TOTALLY see why A.J. goes on to found the Galax Institute in A New Wish based on his sudden uptick of interest in Timmy after noticing he's right all the time. I guess he really will chase the unexplained!

I love Francis... "Guess what I have behind my back. And don't say scorpion, because I checked." <- Guy who's really itching to finish my "Francis with a fairy godparent" 'fic...

lol, is Wanda's signature in her poof cloud the same as her signature when she signed papers in "Pixies Inc."? I think it might be.

That's all for now.

[musings-of-a-rose]

Falling Slowly - Chapter 1

Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes:This started as a simple idea for Tommy. He had different ideas and I can’t say no to those freckles and smile. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for helping me get unstuck. You always have such great ideas!

And a big thanks to @wyn-n-tonic for helping me form thoughts and give this a little shape. I hope I can be a quarter as talented as you one day!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described. Divider made by @benkeibear

Main Masterlist

Falling Slowly Masterlist

Tommy Miller Masterlist

It’s crowded in here tonight. Not quite theme park during season full, but close enough. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t seriously need a drink after the day I had at work. And this bar was the closest place to home that was still open.

Or maybe I just pulled into the first place I found.

I somehow manage to score a seat at the crowded bar, sliding quickly onto the stool that’s still warm from its previous occupant. I raise my hand to the bartender and she nods, taking another 2 orders before taking mine.

“Rum and Coke. Less Coke.”

She smiles, tossing me a wink before she walks off to make the drinks. I have to admit I’m mildly impressed by her memory, as she had taken at least 10 drink orders before mine and memorized them all. No wonder she has an overflowing tip jar.

It probably helps that she has giant tits too.

I take a few sips, letting the warmth of the rum spread through me, loosening my muscles before setting the glass down. The music playing is stupid loud, but the people seem to like it, jamming their sweaty bodies together in a tight group in the middle of the dance floor. 

I’ll admit, this isn’t typically my scene. But the patients today were really on their game of trying to piss me off and I decided I earned a drink. I just wish I’d known how loud it would be. Thankfully, I'm not on call tomorrow.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

A man sits next to me, shifting his body so he’s facing me. When I don’t respond, he repeats himself, a little louder.

“I’m ok, thanks.” I try to let him down easy, but turning down a man who’s tipsy and looking to get laid is not an easy thing to do.

“Not yet you aren’t. We haven’t even spoken yet.” 

Sighing, I turn my head to look at him. He’s all blue eyes and light hair, a slight tan on his face but one from hanging out at the pool and not from manual labor. I’d be surprised if this guy had to work for anything.

“I’m flattered, really, but I just want to drink in peace.”

“Oh, come on now, gorgeous. A little conversation won’t hurt.”

“Really, I’m good.” I turn my head back to my drink, removing my hand from the top of it to take a sip. 

“You look stressed. I can help with that.” 

His hand finds its way to my thigh, squeezing me slightly. But before I can do anything, a different, larger hand removes it for me. 

“She said she was done talkin’.”

This new guy is gorgeous. Broad shoulders, a barrel chest, arms that could totally lift me, coupled with beautiful black curls, freckles speckled across his olive skin, accentuating his eyes, which I'm sure are normally kind when they aren't staring down an asshole. 

The man who was talking to me yanks his hand away and stands up, the bar stool scraping across the floor. 

"Fuck off, friend."

"Not until you leave the lady alone."

The man puffs up his chest, sticking his pointer finger out, jabbing at the man with the curls that I'd love to touch. 

"Why don't you fuck off so you don't get hurt, hhmm? Me and the lady were getting along just fine."

The man with the curls looks at me and I shake my head, both to say I'm never going anywhere with this man and please don't get yourself hurt.

"Doesn't look like she wants to go with you."

The man glances over at me and I fix my face into what I hope is confidence. 

"No way. I'm not going anywhere with you."

The man narrows his eyes. "I bought you a drink. The least you could do is come home with me."

Curls laughs and oh, I would love to hear that sound again. "Imagine being such a dick that you think forcing a drink upon a woman entitles you to sleep with her."

The man draws his fist back and quickly releases, punching Curls straight in the nose, his head flying backwards. He stumbles but doesn't go down, his hand swiping at his nose to see its already bleeding. The man tries to grab for me but Curls stops him, landing several good punches of his own. 

"Stop! He's not worth it!" I try to step in but it's pointless. I can't get close enough to stop anything. 

A minute or so later it doesn't matter because the cops show up, separating the men and loading them both into the back of cop cars, Curls meeting my eyes and giving me a small smile before he's pushed into the cab. 

"Excuse me," I stop one of the cops. "Which jail is he going to?" 

"Travis County. The one on 10th."

"Thanks."

The men load up and take off as I turn to walk to my car and head to the police station. When I arrive, the desk officer tells me I'll have to wait a while for them to be processed, but that they will both make bail.

So I wait. 

Several hours later, the kind desk officer rouses me awake and let's me know I can post bail. I do and they ask me to wait in the lobby while they bring him to the front. When he comes around the corner, he's talking to the officer that's escorting him.

"Yes sir, but can you tell me who posted my bail?" 

The officer nods in my direction while extending his arm out, indicating that the man should proceed without him. Curls turns in the direction the officer pointed him and locks eyes with me as I stand, folding my jacket over my arm. He smiles as we walk towards each other, making my cheeks feel warm under his gaze. 

"You bailed me out?"

"I had to. You saved me."

God his smile is like sunshine. "Oh, you didn't owe me anything, darlin'." 

"I definitely did. That guy was a creep and who knows what else he could've done?"

"Well at least let me pay you back the bail?"

I wave my hand at him. "No way."

"There must be some way for me to pay you back?"

I gesture at his face. "How about you let me take care of that?"

He touches his nose and looks at his hand, seeing some dried blood. "Oh, no that's ok. I'll just go clean up-"

I step closer to him, hand stretching towards his face. "I can't believe they didn't get you checked out."

"Ah I'll be alright."

"Stop arguing and come with me."

He looks at me, all brown eyes and tiny freckles, a small smile tugging up the corners of his mouth. "Yes ma'am."

Oh I am so fucked. 

He follows me to my car and gets in the passenger side. As I turn the key on the ignition, I realize I don't even know his name. 

"I'm Tommy by the way." 

I tell him my name. "But my friends call me Daisy."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Daisy."

We make it back to my place, as his truck had been impounded and so unavailable until morning. Tommy tries to decline my offer of a place to stay while he waits for his truck, until I ask if I'm so offensive looking that he wouldn't want to come up to my apartment. 

"No way, ma'am. Quite the opposite."

He follows me upstairs, kicking off his boots when I kick off my shoes. He looks around nervously and I see him scanning all the windows and doors. 

"You serve?" I ask. 

He looks at me, eyebrows raised. "Yeah. Desert Storm. How'd you know?"

"My dad always scans a place when he enters it. I'm assuming you'll want your back to a wall too? Exits visible?"

"I…yeah. That would be preferable."

I gesture to my couch, which is against the wall. "Have a seat. Let me get my first aid kit."

I grab my kit and some ice in a bag and sit next to Tommy, who turns his broad chest towards me when he sits up. His eyes glance behind me at my bookshelf.

"That shelf looks like it's on its last leg."

I chuckle. "Probably is. I've had it forever and it wasn't high quality to begin with. Just some Ikea shit."

He groans, like I’ve just offended his entire ancestor line. "No, not Ikea! I could make you some new ones."

"What, are you a carpenter or something?"

"Similiar. Contractor. But I do know my way around wood."

"So do I."

Tommy shifts his legs at my implication and I smirk, dabbing at the now dried blood on his face, cradling his chin with my other hand. 

His eyes are on me, so close I can feel his breath puffing out against my skin and I feel heat starting to pool between my thighs.

"Pride and Prejudice?" He asks. 

"What?"

"On your shelf."

"Oh. Yeah. Haven't read it in a while but I was obsessed when I was little. Wait - have you read it?"

He smirks. "Are you surprised?"

"A little."

"My niece needed help with her book report. So I read it to be able to help her."

"You read an entire book to help your niece with a paper?"

"Yeah."

"That's really sweet. Not many people would do that."

"Oh I'm not many people."

"That's for sure.. hey Tommy, are you hungry? I have some pizza left over."

His eyes flick between mine, a soft smile appearing on his face.

"I love pizza."

"Great!" I move to the kitchen and start getting out the pizza, putting some slices on my pizza stone and turning on the oven to preheat it. 

"I rented the new X-Men movie from Blockbuster. Have you seen it?" I ask as the oven bings and I slide the pizza in it. 

"You managed to snag a copy?"

"I bribed the cashier."

He chuckles. "I haven't seen it yet."

"Ok cool. I'll put that on for us."

The pizza finishes reheating and I divvy it up, offering Tommy a beer. We sit on the couch, plates on the coffee table as I get out the DVD. Tommy whistles. 

"You got a DVD player?"

"Yeah. It was my one splurge on myself when I moved here. Well that and a new mattress."

I fast forward through the commercials, cursing the makers for not adding a "skip ad" button. 

"Is your boyfriend gonna be alright with us hanging out?"

“Yeah, no. I don’t have one of those.”

Tommy sits up a little straighter. “Oh? Why not?”

I shrug. “I just moved to a whole new city and wanted to settle in. I don’t like long distance because it just never works out. Plus I can’t deal with all the-” I twist my wrist in a circle “- neediness?”

Tommy chuckles. “Neediness?”

“Yeah. My job takes a lot out of me and honestly, I don’t have the mental space for a boyfriend right now. That’s why I like you.”

Tommy points to himself, eyebrows raised in question. “Me?”

“Yeah. I’ve only known you a few hours but you’ve already saved my ass and don’t act all high and mighty. Plus you have great taste in books and movies.”

Tommy and I finish watching the movie and I drive him back to the impound lot now that it’s open. We exchange numbers and promise to hang out again, both of us missing the glances in the other’s direction. Although I’m pretty sure he caught me staring at his ass when he was standing at the checkout counter. 

“So you’re just….friends?”

Tommy nods, taking another sip of his beer. “That’s what I said, Joel.”

Joel studies his brother, his eyes narrowing. “She pretty?”

“So pretty she’d make a man plow through a stump.”

The corner’s of Joel mouth tick up for a second before he fixes a stern look on his face. “Be careful, Tommy. It’s hard for men and women to be friends if they’re attracted to each other. Someone’s bound to get hurt.”

“That would mean she’s attracted to me, big brother, and there’s no way. She ain’t lookin’.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“‘Sides, don’t you want a good example set for Sarah? That boys and girls can just be friends?”

Joel shakes his head, pointing at Tommy. “I don’t want her near any boys for any reason for her entire life.”

>>Chapter 2>>

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers-blog @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @alindeluce @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed   @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol   @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics @sullyosully @kmc1989

[wxwrites]

stardew valley milf NSFW | SFW headcanons

ft: robin, caroline, jodi (f!reader, afab!reader, explicit content) (not proofread as per usual, enjoy!) men and minors dni

request: anon

robin | SFW

robin, who is such a sweetheart, through and through. while she isn't necessarily reassuring or affectionate with her words, she makes up for it heavily in her actions.

she'll build you a new vanity or closet. or she might build you a storage rack for your favorite hobbies.

she does her best to make sure you, sebastian, and maru are well acquainted. she values their opinions a lot (she learned from sebastian and demetrius) and wants them to feel heard.

she teaches you how to use tools and build basic things, "just incase!"

she LOVES when you make her homemade meals, she compliments your cooking and thanks you for them.

she is absolutely obsessed with anything you show her. whether it's a painting you made, a crystal you found, or a new fish; she loves to hear about it.

truly the listener to your yapper. she could listen to you talk endlessly, even if she's busy.

she likes when you curl up against her, it makes her feel protective and gives her a little ego boost.

to add on to that, she adores when you ask for help. even if it's just to open the lid to the jam jar, she likes helping you and will kiss you on your forehead after she does it.

NSFW

(top!robin, dom!robin, spanking, praise, teasing, strap-on usage, cunnilingus)

robin has been difficult for me to place when it comes to sexual things, so bear with me.

i think she definitely prefers to be in charge, at least to some extent.

she is absolutely obsessed with touching you. and i mean like... constantly groping whatever part of you she can get her hands on.

she loves to grip onto your thighs while she bounces you up and down on her strap. when your legs get tired she'll coo a little mocking, "aw, are you getting tired?" before bouncing you herself.

she can definitely get a little rough, as well. she'll bend you over her lap if you mouth off too much, or if she simply just feels like it. she'll smack your ass and thighs roughly, but presses a soothing hand to them when she's done.

definitely makes you gag on the strap. like will push you down until you can feel it in your throat and forces you to hold eye contact. whispering a quiet, "that's my girl," as you do.

if you're in missionary, she goes insane when you leg-lock around her. she'll bend down to press sloppy kisses to your sweaty neck and collarbones as she pounds into you.

when she's eating you out? make sure you have nothing planned for the rest of the day. because she is SLOPPY and will lay between your legs for hours if you'd let her. she'll force you to hold eye contact as she feels you nearing your peak, always threatening to stop when you close your eyes or look away.

remember that new vanity she just built for you? she's gonna make you watch while she fucks the light out of your eyes.

she's really sweet with aftercare. she'll put balm on any of the marks she left and gently kiss them, cooing gentle praises while she does so.

caroline | SFW

caroline, who is my sweet, sweet lady who deserves so much more.

it takes her a long time to heal from her relationship with pierre. she's a chronic people pleaser and extremely sensitive.

you need to be as patient as possible with her. while she definitely struggles to communicate sometimes, but when she does, she's extremely well-spoken.

she likes planning little picnics for you guys, often taking you over to the fountain or onto the beach.

she lovesss to bake, and spends a lot of time baking your favorite pastries and desserts. she'll even let you taste test them as she does so!

she's an extremely gentle and nurturing person, she loves to take care of people. so, when you get sick, she basically turns into a full-time nurse.

she gets worried SICK when you're in the mines, like nearly drives herself to insanity waiting for you to come home.

she cries almost every time you gift her one of her favorite things, never really receiving that type of love from pierre.

she also thinks it's adorable every time you bring abigail a new crystal or amethyst. seeing you be so fond of her makes her really happy.

she loves to rest her head against your chest while you hold her, gently carding your fingers through her hair. normally she's humming some kind of song to herself as she relaxes.

NSFW

(switch!caroline, sub!caroline, begging, overstimulation, praise, strap-on usage, thigh riding, cunnilingus)

poor lady NEEDS to be taken care of. she's probably never experienced an orgasm a day in her life, so when she finally does? ur hand and mouth are gonna fall off.

she'll start pouncing on you like an addict, desperately grinding herself against your thigh while you're making out.

she loves to be overstimulated, she loves the adrenaline and blinding euphoria that comes from it. she makes you put in the WORK. but it's not like you're complaining.

she's loud, foul, and borderline whorish when you work orgasms out of her. she will get on her knees and beg for you to touch her (but don't deny her for too long, she'll get upset.)

"please touch me, i've missed you so much," she mumbles, pressing her face into the fabric of your jeans, hands desperately pawing at your hips.

not only does she like to ride, but she does it so well. she's a little clumsy at first and definitely struggles to find a good rhythm, but once she does... ur both down for the count.

she has a MAJOR praise kink. she loves to be told how beautiful she is, how good she feels, how good she's doing, all of it. there was a major lack of verbal reassurance (or any reassurance) with pierre, so she needs to hear it.

stuff like: "you're so beautiful," "you look so pretty underneath me," "you're doing such a good job, my love," "you're taking me so, so, well," "atta girl, c'mon,"

you're the first woman she has ever been with so when she tries to eat you out on the first time, she's practically trembling with nerves. once she gets a good idea of what you like, she grows to be extremely confident. she'll ask for you to ride her face until she's nearly suffocating.

she didn't really know what aftercare was the first time you gave it to her. when you wiped her down and pressed soft kisses to her skin, she was genuinely confused. but she has grown to love it, and it has become one of her favorite parts. the first time you press an affectionate kiss to her forehead she deadass starts to cry. (and she does almost every time.)

jodi | SFW

jodi, who is always a little high-strung. how couldn't she be when she has a son in his twenties and another one that's like... 7. idk.

she loves watching you play/bond with vincent, it really does warm her heart up a lot. vincent is picky and kind of a brat, so when he starts to cling to you, she knows that she chose well.

she needs a lot of reassurance and support sometimes, but is otherwise extremely independent. i mean she had to be, she wasn't really given a choice.

it's rare for her to ask for help, but when she does, it takes a lot out of her. she hates feeling needy and weak, but she learns to accept your kind gestures over time.

she loves to listen to you tell stories about your adventures, especially while she's doing chores.

she's not the most emotionally available person, but she does genuinely put a lot of effort into healing that part of her.

she likes to dance around the kitchen and listen to the radio while you guys cook or clean together, often "accidentally" bumping into you and pulling you into a tight embrace.

she lovesss when you bring her fresh game to cook for dinner. whether it's fish or new crops/foraged goods, she will find a way to turn it into the best thing you've ever tasted.

NSFW

(switch!jodi, dom!jodi!, sub!jodi, cunnilingus, strap-on usage, bondage,

she's another one i had a hard time placing, but i definitely think she's a huge switch.

she loves putting up a fight, purposefully teasing you through the day. once you finally reach your threshold, she yelps excitedly as you bend her over the kitchen table. (OBVIOUSLY this only happens when you guys are home alone.)

if she manages to win, she'll press her lips to your neck and slide her hand beneath the waist band of your bottoms. she'll whisper filthy, scandalous words and fantasies into your ear as she gently strokes her fingers over your clit and folds.

whether she's giving or taking the strap, she is so vocal about it. like she genuinely can't shut the fuck up. she's either moaning or spitting curses as she tightens her fingers around your thighs or hips.

i think she likes to get a little experimental, especially with things like bondage. but nothing too extreme, she definitely likes knowing that you're both able to get out when you need to.

but she'll tie your hands above your head as she goes down on you. she'll keep your legs spread and pinned to the bed as she does so, whimpering against your slick.

she lovesss doggy style, and likes when you pin her arms against her lower back and press her shoulders into the bed. something about the vulnerability makes something feral come out of her.

she absolutely adores eating you out. she'll grab you by the ankle and drag you to the edge of the bed before getting on her knees and lapping at you like she hadn't had a meal in years.

she's not as attentive with aftercare, but it goes both ways. her independent nature makes it easy for her to recover from either headspace she might find herself in. once you're both wiped down, she'll cuddle up with you in the bed and draw lazy patterns over your bare skin.

[deathdefied]

I made the hazelnut torte buried in DA:TV's lore cards for Thanksgiving. It was pretty good! The torte on its own would be a good pair for some coffee or espresso, but the apricot jam and chocolate made it just sweet enough for a pleasant dessert.

The recipe as it's presented in-game isn't very clear for anyone who hasn't baked much (especially souffle cakes), so I want to transcribe it with my editorializing under the cut:

Emmrich's Hazelnut Torte (from Dragon Age: the Veilguard)

[Transcribed from in-game screenshots. Double brackets are my additions.]

Nevarran Hazelnut Torte

Note from Emmrich, attached to a copied-out recipe:

Lucanis: Here's my mother's hazelnut torte. She made one every Wintersend.

CAKE: One and a half cups of sugar Two cups of finely ground roasted hazelnuts [[I used chopped hazelnuts from Kroger, roasted in the 325F oven for 10-12 min, then put them through my food processor until sandy]] Three quarters of a cup of sifted flour Two teaspoons of baking powder (sift into flour) Eight eggs, whites & yolks separated One and a quarter cups apricot preserves [[I used a jar of Bonne Maman]] Apricot liqueur for brushing [[I used a $10 apricot brandy]]

ICING: Eight ounces of chopped up dark chocolate One cup of heavy cream Pinch of salt Two tablespoons of orange liqueur or rum or strong coffee [[tbh i really went my own way here to make a ganache]]

INSTRUCTIONS:

Beat egg yolks with sugar until thick and light yellow. Beat egg whites in fresh bowl [[until stiff peaks and glossy. Use 1/2 TSP of cream of tartar, if available, to stabilize]]. Mix ground hazelnuts into the egg yolk and sugar. Slowly add flour, then GENTLY!!! fold in egg whites. [[This will be difficult. The egg yolk mixture is very sticky. just keep folding and folding until everything is uniform.]] Butter and flour two eight-and-a-half-inch pans. Bake around an hour, 325 degrees. [[F, basically bake until the tops of the cakes are golden and begin to pull away from the pans. don't overbake! they'll get stiff and crunchy.]]

Take cakes from pans, cool, split in half. Brush with apricot liqueur. Warm apricot preserves, strain out skins. [[I put the bonne maman in the microwave in 10-15 second pulses until more liquedy.]] Spread preserves across the cakes, then some icing [[ganache]] as you stack. Decorate with icing and whole hazelnuts!

ICING:

Gently boil cream, then pour over chopped up chocolate. [[Heat the cream until it just starts to bubble, remove from heat, and constantly stir the chocolate. Add more chocolate than called for to make it thicker if you prefer a ganache.]] Add pinch of salt for taste. Stir, then let rest for 15-20 minutes to make sure it's all melted. [[??? what]] Cool completely, then whip it up and decorate the cake. [[I didn't do this, lmao. i also didn't want to chocolate to overpower the other flavors, so i did what you see in the photos. it's up to you if you want it to be a thin coating or a proper frosting.]] Can add in coffee [[or espresso powder]] or liqueur (or both) to taste. Can also add in ground hazelnuts when whipping up the icing, to add texture.