#i Hope there’s good place to eat to I check and don’t know any of the place and there’s like 50 restaurant close ckbsjzjs

[yoohyeon]

I praying that the line for the concert won’t be outside 💀

[nikkento-writes]

Babysitter - Part 2

Pairing: dad!Toji x babysitter!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.8k

cw: age gap (reader is 21, Toji is in his 30s), explicit language, cheating, pregnancy, smut – PIV sex (doggy style)

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of your summer babysitting job turned adulterous summer scandal.

Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the kind words and support on Part 1 of this! I hope you enjoy part 2, and who knows, maybe I'll write a part 3 one day lol. Thanks for reading! Divider credit to @/fic-dumpster.

Taglist: @scorpiosugar @diegojeanne @f4irygard3n @cvixmei @soniiyi - more tags in the comments

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You blink away the tears in your eyes, holding the pregnancy test, hoping that somehow, you’ll blink away the second line indicating that you are indeed pregnant.

“No way.” Chiyo waits for you outside the stall, the apprehension in her voice apparent.

“Yes. I’m…” There’s a lump in your throat you have to swallow before you finish your sentence. “Pregnant.”

Your best friend’s silence on the other side only makes you panic more, but you don’t blame her. What can she really say to make any of this better? To stop your world from turning upside down?

She whispers your name quietly, at a complete loss for words. Then, she clears her throat, sounding as if she’s fighting tears herself. “I’m going to buy you a melon pan. Just…wait for me here, okay?” It’s the only consolation she can offer you in this moment, huddled in a public restroom of a convenience store; you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You wait for her to leave, completely alone now. As soon as she’s gone, you sob into your hands.

It's not that you oppose being a mother. You’ve always imagined handing a positive pregnancy test to the love of your life with the biggest smile on your face, excited to raise a family together. Ideally, this would have happened sometime in the future, once you’ve established yourself as a full-fledged adult. Not like this: twenty-one years-old, less than a year until graduation without the slightest clue what you’re doing with your life. Worst of all, the father isn’t your husband, a boyfriend, even a friend. It’s Toji Fushiguro, the dad of the little boy you babysat over the summer, the husband of the kind woman who hired you. You still haven’t forgiven yourself for your adultery, the guilt eating away at you since the start of that lecherous summer fling. And now, you have this pee-on-a-stick to remind you how incredibly reckless you were to get involved with him in the first place. How undeniably irresponsible you were to have unprotected sex with a married man. Sure, it was the best sex you’ll probably ever have in your life. But was it worth it?

You wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper, tossing it in the trash bin. Knowing that no good will come out of sulking in the 7-11 bathroom any longer, you finally exit the stall, washing your hands clean at the sink. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fixated on your belly, wondering what it will look like round and full of life. It buzzes again, snapping you out of your trance. When you check to see who’s messaging, you almost drop your phone out of shock.

Somehow, someway, the universe has it out for you. Because in the most perfectly disastrous timing ever, Mrs. Fushiguro decides to contact you.

~~~

A week later, you’re sitting on the train, heading to the Fushiguro household. Your stomach is in knots, both from anxiety and from the morning sickness. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin sticky against your clothing in this hot weather. The closer you approach your destined stop, the more and more nervous you get, almost convinced to call the whole thing off.

Believe it or not, Mrs. Fushiguro did not contact you to confront you about the dirty deeds you did with her husband. Instead, she messaged you in dire need of a babysitter once again. She spares you the details, asking if you could meet her in person to better explain herself. And for whatever reason, you agree.

You haven’t come up with a solid plan yet on what you want to do about your little predicament. So far, the only people that know are Chiyo and your parents, who, after the initial shock of it all, have been surprisingly supportive. They advised you to take the rest of the term off, which you were able to get arranged quickly through your school. This gives you several weeks to decide what you need to do. With one issue resolved, it leaves you with the next, and the most pressing: whether or not you should tell the father. The last thing you want is to break apart the Fushiguro family. You’re fully prepared to raise this baby as a single mother, which, with the help of your parents and best friend, seems doable. Besides, you’re not even sure if you want Toji to be involved considering his complete lack of interest in his other child, Megumi. Despite that, you believe that as the father, he has the right to know. Can you gather the courage to actually tell him?

Still lost in your train of thought, you hop off to walk to the house. When you arrive, you spot Mrs. Fushiguro already outside, leaning against her car in the driveway with little Megumi in her arms. They both smile upon seeing you, warming your heart. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for whatever is to come. 

“Hello Mrs. Fushiguro,” you greet her, bowing politely, too shy to meet her gaze. “How are you?”

“Doing really well. Thank you for coming on such short notice.” She lets her son down, who steps towards you until he’s hugging your knee, cooing. “I wanted to talk to you in person about my complicated situation.”

“Is everything alright?” you ask, unable to resist kneeling down to meet Megumi at eye level, making funny faces at him.

She giggles. “Oh, everything is great! The divorce finally went through and I’m living with my new boyfriend now, who’s been the absolute best, especially with Megumi.”

You make a shocked expression, mouth agape, exaggerated for the kid’s entertainment, though you’re pretty much stunned yourself. “Divorce…?”

“Yeah! Toji and I have been separated for a long time now. I’m sorry I didn’t mention that over the summer. You’re still so young after all, no need to rope you into adult things.”

You almost bust out laughing at the irony, but you hold your tongue, continuing to listen to her.

She sighs, flipping her long, beautiful hair behind her shoulders. “That being said, I still care about the guy. I mean, he is the father of my child. Without me or Megumi there on a regular basis, the whole house has gone to shit. It seems like he’s actually taking this divorce pretty hard. So, I want to hire you as a babysitter for my ex-husband. Just for a little while until he can get back up on his feet.”

Another shocked face, which makes Megumi laugh while dread sinks into your chest. “Babysitter…?”

“Babysitter, housekeeper, whatever you want to call it. You did such a wonderful job with him over the summer, even while you were taking care of Megumi! I don’t know what you were feeding him. Whatever it was, he was definitely a little bit nicer when you were around.”

Lewd flashbacks replay in your mind of Toji eating you out sloppily, slurping up all your pussy juices in every room of the house. You focus on the ground, too ashamed to look at her. “Mrs. Fushiguro, I don’t know if I can do this.”

She squats to your level, reaching for your hand, holding it gently in hers. “I know this is a lot of ask. You’re the only one I can rely on for this. Please.”

A sense of déjà vu hits you. There’s desperation in her tone and it tugs at your heartstrings the same way it did when you first met her a few months ago. It doesn’t help that Megumi is now squeezing the index finger of your other hand, eyes full of curious wonder, grip surprisingly strong for such a young child. Would she be pleading with you like this if she knew the truth about you, Toji, and the baby? Even though they were separated during this whole ordeal, it doesn’t make what you did any better; you still decided to do it regardless of their marital status.

Maybe you can use this opportunity as a way to atone.  

You finally look at her, giving the most convincing smile you can muster, trying your best to ignore the wave of nausea washing over you. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

~~~

Mrs. Fushiguro asks you to start at noon the following day, giving her enough time to notify her ex about your temporary employment. When you use the set of keys she gave you to open the front door, you step inside cautiously, not sure what to expect. You’ve been dreading this impromptu reunion all night, wondering if you could even face him.

It’s a mess inside, heaps of dirty laundry scattered all over the furniture, fast food wrappers and empty ramen bowls littered on the kitchen counter. There’s a stench lingering in the stale air in here and you almost think the worse, but Mrs. Fushiguro had warned you about this. Seeing it in person is more heartbreaking than disgusting. Toji really is taking this divorce hard. It wouldn’t be right to burden him with more life-changing news, right?

You begin by gathering all the trash into garbage bags, flattening any cardboard to recycle. By the looks of it, he’s been living off junk food and protein bars for the past month. The refrigerator is near empty, aside from a questionable take-out container in the very back, which you end up dumping along with everything else. You make it your next task to get groceries after you load the washing machine.

When you return from the store, Toji remains absent. Nerves prevent you from leaning against the bedroom door to listen for any signs of him in there. His ex-wife mentioned that he goes out to gamble at the horse races whenever he’s short on cash, so it’s likely he’s there. Still, you’re anticipating his return, mentally preparing yourself for how you’ll behave around him. Given your current circumstances, you are serious about turning over a new leaf. No more funny business with him. Absolutely not.

It’s near dinnertime now and you’ve miraculously accomplished tidying the house and doing his laundry all within a few hours. You even managed to cook soup for dinner, full of hearty beef and fresh vegetables, something to provide nutrients compared to the processed food he’s been consuming lately. You’re stirring the pot when you hear keys jingle from outside the front door. He comes in, clad in a tight-fitting black shirt that accentuates his muscles and grey sweatpants that don't leave much to the imagination. A plastic bag is slung behind his shoulder, clearly from a convenience store. Despite his concerning diet, his physique is still impressive as ever. Just one glance at him has you fluttering below your belly, replaying the erotic memories you share together. You turn to face him, standing up straight, feigning confidence while you fret internally. He looks at you, brow raised slightly, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Hello sir,” you greet him, bowing politely. Acting as if he’s a total stranger and not the man who rocked your entire world over the summer, now with evidence to prove it.

He sets the bag on the counter, revealing a couple of ramen packets inside. “What’s with the formalities?” he asks, grinning. “If I remember correctly, you were screaming my name nonstop the last time you were here.”

Heat rushes into your cheeks instantly, not surprised by his vulgarity, though still embarrassed. You clear your throat, trying to stay strong. “I’m here to work. Nothing else.”

He walks towards you, his stature casting a daunting shadow as he steps closer and closer, towering over you. His voice is low, borderline threatening to a point that has you trembling. “So you don’t want me to fuck you anymore?”

You swallow hard, composure wavering. “That’s right.”  Even you don’t fully believe it when it comes out of your own mouth, how can you expect him to?

There’s a strange look in his eyes, almost like he’s disappointed by your response. He turns his back to you, mumbling something about taking a shower. You watch him enter his bedroom, hearing him clear as day before he shuts the door with a dull thud. “I guess you don’t want me either.”

~~~

A week into being Toji’s live-in housekeeper, the two of you figure out a routine together that involves minimal interaction. You wake up in the morning to cook breakfast, eating it quickly and leaving the rest for him while you go out. You use this time to go for a walk, meet with Chiyo or your parents, do some grocery shopping, or just sit at the nearby park, enjoying the sun with your baby, who grows little-by-little each day.

Toji is usually gone the whole afternoon, either working out or gambling, so you’re able to do chores back at the house, like cleaning his room. He doesn’t return until dinnertime when tension seems to be at its highest. A big reason for that is because he’s made it a habit to eat right after his shower, shirtless and with his legs crossed on the floor, displaying a perfectly visible outline of his manhood. It’s distracting, to say the least. Chiyo mentioned the other day how you can have an increased libido during the first trimester. That’s definitely proving itself now.

Aside from the half-nakedness, something else surprises you about him. The two of you mostly avoid conversation with each other, eating in silence at the dining table while sneaking furtive glances whenever you get a chance. But he never fails to mutter, “Thank you for the meal,” before washing the dishes at the sink, retreating back into his room when he’s done. It’s the tiniest act of consideration that makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.

Tonight you sit across from each other as usual. You just finished eating the chicken katsu you made for dinner, along with a couple of side dishes you prepped earlier in the week. His abs look especially spectacular today and you find it harder than usual to stop peeking at them.

“You’re gonna burn a hole through me with the way you’re staring,” he says, chewing his last bite.

Shit, caught red-handed. You quickly look down at your empty bowl, mumbling an apology. “Sorry. I just…I can tell your hard work is paying off.”

“Yours too. The house has never been cleaner. And the food has never been better.” He’s looking directly at you, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you.”

It’s no good. Your hormones are raging, sexual desire courses through you, all from that stupidly handsome grin and a silly little compliment. How did you ever think you could resist him?

You stand up, grabbing everything from the table. “I’ll do the dishes,” you offer, walking them to the sink, trying to calm down.

It’s no use, though. He sees right through you.

He gives you only a minute alone before he follows you, caging you between his big arms, your back to him, his mouth hot on your ear. “Let me help you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, already unraveling from his proximity. The smallest jut of your hips and there it is, his erection pressed to your ass, throbbing and even more massive than you remember it. “Toji, we can’t,” you whine, not making any attempt to separate yourself from him.

He slides his hands around your hips, pulling you in closer, rubbing his rock-hard cock against you. “I know you want it. I know you want me.”

And he’s right. You do. You want him with you, around you, inside of you. In all the ways he’s had you before, in new ways he’s never had but you’ve fantasized about. There’s no denying it anymore. You want him. You want him so fucking bad.

He takes you right there at the kitchen sink, bent over with your grip tight on the edge of the counter, pounding away at your wet, needy cunt. Neither of you bother to remove your clothes completely, Toji’s sweatpants shrugged down his thighs just enough, yours pooled around your ankles, soaked panties at your knees. “Fuck, Toji!” you moan, sticking your ass out to meet his thrusts.

His fingers find your clit, rubbing slippery circles around it. “Say it,” he grunts, increasing the pace.

Drools leaks out from the sides of your lips, too fucked out to process what’s he’s asking you. “What?”

“Say you want me,” he demands, massaging your swollen bud so deep, you feel it all the way down to your fucking toes.

“I want you. I want you, Toji!” you respond breathlessly, squeezing him tight with your orgasm.

“Fuck, I missed you. Missed my good girl.” He continues to fuck you, slowly now, relishing every second of being inside you. “Always so fucking creamy for me, fuck.” He pulls you up to embrace you from behind, fingers still pleasuring you, his other hand at your chin to face you towards him. The two of you kiss passionately, lips smacking, tongues swirling. So sloppy and wanton that it puts you on the verge of another orgasm, completely succumbed to pleasure.

You sleep with him in his bedroom after several more orgasms and a big one of his own, wrapped comfortably in his arms, with his cock and creampie inside you the rest of the night. For the first time in a while, you’re oddly at peace.

~~~

Your reckless decision making has led you into another troublesome scenario. Fortunately, you haven’t had any morning sickness the entire first week of your employment at the Fushiguro household. Unfortunately, it decides to come back today. There’s no way you’ll be able to make it to the bathroom near your room, so you have no choice but to hop out of Toji’s bed and run into his, clutching onto the porcelain bowl until it’s all out. You rinse your mouth off at the sink, hoping Toji didn’t hear any of it. But you know all too well by now that luck is never on your side.

He’s sitting up against the headboard, watching you come out of the bathroom. “Did you just puke in there?” There’s a hint of concern in his normally blunt tone.

You nod, bending down to retrieve your underwear and pants off the floor, avoiding his gaze.

“Are you sick?” he asks, the worry even more obvious now.

Shaking your head, you respond, “No, I just…I’m feeling a little nauseous, that’s all.” You walk towards the door, still not willing to look at him. “There should be leftovers in the fridge, so help yourself to breakfast. I’m going to lay down.”

He calls out your name. “Wait – ”

You ignore him, closing the door shut behind you, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you retreat into your own bedroom, muffling your sobs into a pillow. After your wild romp last night, this bout of morning sickness has swiftly brought you back to reality. You’re still harboring the secret growing in your womb from the man who gave it to you to begin with.

There’s a firm knock on your door, startling you. “Hey, it’s me.”

In this split-second, you decide to stop with the lies and finally tell the truth. You open the door, Toji standing in front of you fully clothed in his usual attire, a serious expression on his face. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Eyes still puffy from crying, you take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And you’re the father.”

His mouth parts the slightest bit, no words coming out of it. The silence seems to linger on forever. You fill it by rambling all the thoughts that have been swimming in your head the last couple of weeks. “Before you start freaking out or anything, I’m telling you so that you know. I don’t expect you to be involved. I’m perfectly willing to raise this child on my own. And besides, I won’t be completely alone. I have my family to help me, my friends too. I’ll be totally fine. This baby is going to be well taken care of, I’ll make sure of it. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just didn’t know how. But I feel better already because this has been stressing me out. It’s all going to work out okay? I think. I hope.”

After the long spiel, he stares down at the floor, jaw tight, mouth opening and closing, unsure how to respond. Eventually, he says, “I have to go.”

When he leaves the house, you crawl into your bed, bawling until there are no tears left for you to cry.

~~~

You wake up in the late afternoon to an enticing aroma wafting from the kitchen. It’s been hours since you’ve been in bed, moping about how poorly everything went with Toji. His reaction left you devastated. While you always expected to do this alone, hearing his negative response to it hurts more than you anticipated it to.

Curious, you make your way into the kitchen, shocked to find Toji standing over the stove, stirring a pot, the soothing scent of soup surrounding you. “What’s going on?” you ask, noticing a plethora of fresh vegetables laid out on the counter, along with a big bottle of prenatal vitamins and various snacks.

He turns the heat off, covering the pot with a lid. “I’m cooking,” he answers, facing you with a grin on his face. “Bone broth is a good source of calcium. And you need to keep eating lots of veggies so our baby is strong, like me. No more of this instant ramen shit.”

“I thought you were upset,” you say, stepping closer to him.  

“I know. I’m sorry I left like that. I was shocked at first, I’ll admit it. But I started to get excited." He takes your hands in his. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, but being a father isn’t one of them. Being a bad father is. I want to change. I need to change. For Megumi. For our new little one. For you.”

Strangely enough, you believe in his heartfelt declaration. You smile at him, letting him go to stand in front of the stove, taking a whiff of the comforting aroma of the hot soup he made for you, happy tears welling in your eyes. He hugs you gently from behind, nuzzling his nose to you. “I’m going to do it right this time, okay? I know I can do it with you.”

As Toji caresses your belly, kissing you softly along the neck, you feel the weight that’s been heavy on your shoulders ease up. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

[janiehellion]

Healing Touch

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HANDJOB / TEASING / EDGING / ORGASM DENIAL

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.033

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S2E05—ᴄʜᴜᴘᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴀ & S2E06—ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

[luveline]

oh my god Jade I love coworker James!!! can we please see Remus and Sirius actually catching them !:)))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.3k

James Potter is eating his lunch in peace when you find him in the staff kitchen. It was nice to eat in silence —he won’t get any of that now. 

“Hi, lovely,” he says. 

“Stop,” you say instantly, pulling the fridge door open to extract your lunch. James watches the curve of your shoulder, your arm, even your leg as you bend to grab your Tupperware before straightening out. 

“What are you having?” 

“Can’t we eat in mutual, agreeable silence?” you ask. 

James thinks about it, but when you’re around he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “No, maybe tomorrow, though.” 

“Brilliant.” 

You sit down —in the chair next to his, he’d like to point out, and not the one opposite— and open your Tupperware. You have a salad with what looks like diced tofu, grilled and honeyed, salt and pepper cracked over dressed leaves of kale and lettuce. 

“That looks good.” 

“You’re so healthy, I thought I’d outdo you,” you say, popping your foldable fork from the Tupperware lid. 

“You’ve managed it.” James is eating chicken katsu in wraps with a chilli sauce, lettuce, and finely sliced tomato. For his afters, he has three bags of crisps and a tangerine he’s going to share with you, two slices to one.

For a little bit, you both chew and say nothing. After a few minutes he reaches under the table to hold your thigh. A few minutes more and you’re letting your leg fall against him, smiling around bites of salad. 

“Do you wanna come over tonight?” he asks. 

“Maybe you should come to mine?” you ask, a shade of timid. “I know you’ve never been, it’s not nice as yours is, but at least Sirius won’t walk in on us.” 

James wonders if that means what he thinks it does, or if you’re just sick of being kissed and then shot away from. If it means the first thing, he really needs to ask if you want to be his girlfriend. Like, today. He’s worried you’re gonna say no, but he doesn’t want you thinking that intimacy from him is casual, because it really won’t be. 

“We can get dinner first?” he suggests, feeling along your knee gently. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Where do you want to, pretty girl?” 

You shift ever so slightly in your chair. “I don’t know. Where’s somewhere nice? Or do you want casual, like, the Chinese buffet by the cinema? It’s quite nice in there.” 

“I wanna go wherever you fancy,” he says. He’s flirting, or not flirting but affectionate, his voice velveteen as he ducks his head. He wants to find your hand and kiss it. He loves kissing the tips of your fingers, but it’s a sure fire way to get you to lean away from him. He knows you like it, evidenced by your smile, and by your willingness to give him your hand again the next time. “Do you think we can just–” he shouldn’t ask here, should he? He does it anyhow. “I want it to be a date. Like, a proper, actual date we own up to.” 

“Like we tell everyone we went?” 

“Not right now, not if you don’t want to. Just between us then. It’s a real date.” 

Something moves in your neck. You bite your lip but let it fall back into place as you say, “Yeah, okay. A real date.” 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat. “I’d really like to.” 

“You would?” he asks softly. 

You turn in your seat to check the door, before leaning into his lap, and pressing a quick, careful kiss to lips, just a little to the side and up, your mouth aligned to the corner of his and the skin beneath his nose. 

“So, somewhere nice, then,” you say as you sit in your seat properly. 

James hooks his ankle behind the leg of your chair and drags you as close as he can possibly get you without yanking you into his lap. “I genuinely don’t care where we go, I just wanna go with you.” He gestures for you to come back, his hand rising to your shoulder. “I could kiss you stupid right here, I hope you know.” 

“That’s not funny,” you say, laughing despite yourself. 

He wasn’t making a joke, but he supposes he’s coming on strong. “I could, but I won’t. I’m too nice and you probably taste like kale anyways, which would be a punishment for me I don’t deserve.”

“Not the most flavourful vegetable, is it?” 

He laughs softly against your lips. One second he’s not going to kiss you here, and the next it’s as though his body decided all on its own. He smiles too much to kiss you properly, but a kiss is a kiss. Kissing you is like electric and fireworks, and honey and sugar, and all manner of cliche things. It’s like a long day ending. It’s like your heart and his are the same, for just those few seconds together. 

“You don’t taste so bad,” he murmurs. 

“You could’ve let me have a drink first.” 

“Where’s the fun in that? Come on, kiss me again.” 

“No, no, ‘cos I don’t like that spicy sauce you put on your wraps and–”

He laughs again, you’re laughing just as loudly, tipping your head to the side as he wades in from the other. 

The kitchen door opens with a whack. You spring apart from one another guiltily, too little too late as the man in the door makes his shock known. 

“Where you just–” Sirius grins like a Cheshire Cat. “You were kissing! I knew it! I can’t–”

“Well you didn’t know it, did you?” Remus asks, giving Sirius a dirty look. “I’ve only tried to tell you ten times that I think there’s something going on with them, they’ve been holding hands. But no, Sirius Black knows everything about James Potter, like I didn’t grow up with you both too.” Remus gives his boyfriend a good glower and makes his way to the fridge.

You immediately fluster, bringing a hand to your eyes as though that might undo what’s been done. 

“We weren’t kissing,” James says. 

“No, then what were you doing, James?” Sirius asks. 

“She was checking my teeth for sesame seeds?” 

“With her tongue,” Sirius says smugly. 

“Sirius, don’t.” Remus pulls his vitamin water from the fridge and remembers himself. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m not trying to embarrass you, and neither is Sirius.” 

“Well, she has nothing to be embarrassed about,” James says, laying his hand on your arm. 

“We really weren’t kissing,” you insist. Then, sighing in defeat. “If anything, James was kissing me and I was letting him.” 

“Yes, because you so often just let me do things to you,” he says, stroking the crook of your elbow with his thumb.

“I knew it,” Sirius says happily, smirking like a fiend as Remus forces the vitamin water into his arms. 

“You did not.” 

“I was just trying to throw you off of the scent, Moony.” 

James meets your eyes, still wide with surprise. “I’m sorry. Uh… They won’t tell?” 

You tip your head. “Someone would’ve found out eventually, right?” 

Right? As in, we would’ve kept going, we’re going to keep dating, and eventually more than that? James will have to buy you a very big bouquet of flowers tonight, lest you not believe him. 

“I’m afraid so. At least that’s out of the way,” he says. 

You bring his hand to your chin. You don’t kiss it, but the action alone has butterflies like hornets bouncing around his stomach. Massive bouquet, he thinks. 

—

more coworker James

[1d1195]

The Lottery I

~3.7k words

From me: I thought I would close out 2024 with a mini-series. I'm hoping for shorter parts but I should be able to post on a regular basis (Mondays). You should see MANY similarities to my favorite show. I have been planning this one for over a year. I really hope you enjoy 💕

Warnings: angst (?) fluff

Summary: Small towns have the biggest romances and the best view of the moon.

“I don’t know how you ended up there,” Bailey shook her head.

“Bails,” she laughed. “I Googled it. It’s cute.”

The little town was adorably cute. The kind of place where the Christmas-hating CEO female lead in the movie would fall head over heels for the place in a month because of the small-town charm. It was about thirty minutes outside the city but with traffic it could take up to an hour. It was quaint. The exact kind of place she could envision her little dream.

“Your house is good?” Bailey asked. She nodded, flipping the camera to show her the little place she found to live in. Two stories. But the second floor was small. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a small room for storage. Maybe in the right light it could be a small office, but it would be better holding all her books. The bottom floor was open. Living room, dining area, and a kitchen. Down the hall was another bathroom and her bedroom. Right now, it was filled with boxes and no clear markers for any of the rooms. Her furniture was misplaced—the table in the living room, the TV on top of it, the couch was near the kitchen, and the lamps were atop the counters in the kitchen.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.

Moving in was second to her priorities. So the boxes would stay, her clothes haphazardly falling out of boxes, the iron on top of the island in the kitchen to get the wrinkles out of her blouses. “Neighbors are good?”

“I’ve only met Edith and David. They’re about sixty-five years old and hilarious. Edith is insistent on having tea by the end of the week and David wants to set me up with his grandson.”

“I can’t imagine you outside the city,” Bailey sounded wistful.

“It’ll be good for me to be away from all the big lights. I missed the stars... and the moon,” her voice was filled with fondness. Like the moon was her old friend she hadn’t seen in a while.

“We could see the moon in the city,” Bailey reminded her.

It wasn’t just the moon, it was the stars, and silence that the city never allowed. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“You know babe...” Bailey trailed off. “You look... happy.”

She was. Really happy. The kind of happiness that couldn’t be faked because she was supposed to be happy. The kind of happiness that would make anyone jealous. And why shouldn’t she be happy? She was young, basically fresh out of college, ready to start her own business, and do everything she wanted on her own.

“I am happy,” she nodded and looked at her best friend through FaceTime. “I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. Try not to let them be too mean to me. I’m... I’m good,” she promised. “This is good.”

“You know,” Bailey grinned and shook her head. “I think you’re right.”

*

She wore her lucky dress—the one that she is certain got her a scholarship—and chose a pair of flats over heels because in her quick self-tour of the town she noted the brick sidewalks were likely to take out her ankle. She made sure every single strand of her hair wasn’t out of place. She wanted this to be a good impression. All her books and shows told her that small towns were lovely, but she was an outsider. It was possible that they wouldn’t love a newcomer and so she didn’t want to make it seem like she was changing everything.

But since it was her first night in her new home, there was nothing to eat. Nor to cook with even if she wanted to. Maybe if she had a loaf of bread, she could find her toaster in one of the boxes. Moving on her own was tough but she was proud of herself. Another check she could mark on her to-do list.

Her first order of business was securing her business. However, that couldn’t be done on an empty stomach. She locked the door to the little home she now owned. The trim needed a coat of paint, and she desperately needed to buy a lawn mower. Some of the windows needed to be replaced. She tried opening one of them and nearly threw her back out. The bushes in front of the little porch needed to be trimmed or taken out altogether.

But it was home, and it was lovely. She was excited to do it on her own. It made her feel proud.

Her family was far away. Honestly, it was for the best. They thought it was a terrible idea for her to move, maybe because they couldn’t depend on her any longer. If she thought too long about it, she got upset. But this was good. She was doing what her grandma believed she could do. What her grandpa wanted her to do.

With a family far away, her place was filled with boxes. Hardly anything was unpacked. It was a miracle she found her lucky dress but perhaps that was why it was so lucky. With the distance between them, it was easier to ignore the group chat. Easier to not feel obligated to help her family.

They’re adults, honey. They’ll figure it out.

She hoped her grandma was right.

Her friends were still in the city. Completely shocked she left the hustle and bustle for a small-town place. Their lack of support or what they passed off as worry made her nervous all the same. How would it survive? But she researched the perfect place and took plenty of time setting up everything she needed so she was ready to go when she graduated.

The only thing she wished could be different, was that her grandparents got to see her.

*

The main part of town felt like a city. But way friendlier. People shouted in the middle of the road. Kids ran across the road to the school. There were very few cars but even the ones present parked illegally and the officer strolling the sidewalks didn’t pay any mind to it. It was adorable. It felt like she was in a Disney movie, and she wanted to sing.

The center green was being set up with seats and banners. People were on walkie-talkies directing more items about the area. The space was warm and cozy. Like where she could spend the day reading in the grass and have a picnic with herself or a friend.

God, she hoped she made some friends. It seemed possible. Everyone was so nice. They all knew each other. That was evident. It was so comforting, exactly the change she wanted and needed, and she prayed they wouldn’t hate her for trying to bring something new to their little place.

As her stomach reminded her once more of its presence and emptiness, she approached the diner on one side of the main street. Squished between the post office and a shoe store. Someone was exiting as she opened the door, so she gestured for them to exit before she proceeded. “Thank you, darling,” the man tipped his hat to her.

With one deep breath, she entered.

It was like she was the new girl at school. The second she crossed the threshold of the diner, everyone stared at her. There wasn’t a voice to be heard, the only sound coming from behind the counter in the kitchen. “Uh... hi,” she swallowed. Quietly, she made her way to the counter and situated herself at the end of it away from everyone else.

Sure, she wanted to be part of the community and wanted to be liked, but she didn’t want to force it. The place continued to be quiet, although the murmuring began. No doubt everyone whispered about her. “No newcomers lately, I guess,” she mumbled under her breath and pulled out her folder of paperwork to go over it again.

You’re going to crush it! Bailey’s message read. She smiled gratefully, feeling her heart slow. She was wearing her lucky dress. It was going to happen. She was going to be happy no matter what.

“Shit!” It was paired with the distinct sound of something shattering. She turned directly to the sound as did everyone else in the place and she was on her feet immediately. It wasn’t anything major, a coffee mug on the floor.

“Jesus, honey, watch it!” It was an older woman who scolded her husband with a light thwack on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to, Alice!”

“Harry!” Someone called.

“Jus’ a second,” the voice was from the back, low, almost like it didn’t want to be heard. He must have been cooking or something because there was a commotion in the back behind the kitchen door. She didn’t think much of it because she was worried that poor Alice and her husband were going to get hurt picking up the broken shards or slip in the mess of spilled coffee on the floor.

“I can help,” she offered and crouched near the older woman—Alice—as she struggled to grab the pieces. “Here,” she grabbed a rag off the counter even though she had never been there and it wasn’t her place to do so. Gently she pushed the broken pieces and coffee into a neat little pile sopping up the mess as best she could.

“Well, aren’t you sweet,” Alice chimed. “Thank you.”

“Happy to help,” she smiled politely.

“Did you just move here?” She asked. Perhaps that would satiate the whispering.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Where are you living?”

“Oh... um... Oak Street,” she stammered. It probably didn’t help her newness that she stammered. But her new address was new; she was still getting used to it.

“Oh, Holliston’s place! It’s a lovely home,” someone called from across the room.

“Y’don’t have t’do that,” it was the same voice that called from the back but now right next to her.

“Oh...” Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. Did time seem to stop? That couldn’t be right. She wasn’t going to have a crush on the first guy she met on her first official day as a resident of the small town. “I don’t mind,” she said quickly looking up at him from her crouched position. “Happy to help and...” She stopped speaking again as he stared at her. His eyes were pretty, even if he looked grumpy. His mouth was set in a frown, and she noticed that once more everyone stopped speaking. “Sorry,” she said and stood, scooping the mess as best she could in her hands. Coffee dripped from the rag into the puddle at her feet. She could feel the splatter on her ankles, and she was nervous to look if she had ruined her shoes. It didn’t bother her, but she wasn’t sure she’d have time to head home and change before she went to the town hall.

Harry held out the tray for dirty dishes and she placed the rag, broken pieces of mug, and all into it. He dropped it on the counter about two spaces down from where her folder and purse remained. “Are you okay, ma’am?” She asked softly placing a gentle hand on her arm in a comforting kind of way.

“Alice, Ed, y’okay?” Harry—she presumed—was quiet. It almost rubbed her the wrong way that he repeated her, but he knew them, and she didn’t. So, she returned to her seat quietly after offering one more smile to Alice.

“All good, Harry,” Ed said in return.

Harry went back around the counter and fiddled with the coffee pot. He refilled a new mug and brought it over to Ed.  When he returned behind the counter he stood in front of her silently. Waiting. Not offering a word nor question.

Harry looked to be roughly her age. Handsome. If this was David’s grandson, she would have reconsidered his offer. But his scowl was to be desired. Made her uneasy. She wondered if this was how he always was or if it was something about her.

But she wanted to be liked. People generally didn’t dislike her. It would devastate her if he did. As grumpy as he seemed, she wasn’t going to shy away from her own personality. “Do y’want something?”

“What’s your favorite?” She asked glancing from the menu to him.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a favorite.”

She blinked. He worked here. Did he own it? That would be crazy, he was so young. But she was young and about to own her business too. So who was she to judge his age? “How can you not have a favorite?”

“I like it all,” he shrugged.

“You seriously don’t have a favorite?”

“Since I own the diner,” he was explaining it like she was a toddler, “everything is good.”

“Well...” she took a deep breath. It wasn’t that she was one of those people who assumed everyone would like her, but it was... different to work for friendliness. Bailey told her she had the kind of face that would work wonders in sales. Everyone just opened up to her.

But not Harry. Harry was stoic as could be. It barely looked like he was breathing. Other than the irritation in his eyes, he had a really nice face. Smooth skin, angular jaw, and just pretty features that were probably wasted on someone so grumpy. But she could see something flicker in his eyes. Something that she wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to see which is why it was merely a flicker.

Was this grumpy man amused? By her?

“...Do you have a recommendation then?”

“Anything. It’s all good,” he was clearly over this exchange.

She thought she could get him to budge but it didn’t seem that way. This was the fast track to nowhere. Not the impression she wanted to make on her first official day in town. Sighing, she glanced at the specials board. “You have peach pancakes?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have white chocolate chips?”

Harry sighed, exasperated with the conversation, and she hadn’t even ordered her coffee yet. “Yup...” he was staring at her like this was going to kill him. Or he was going to kill her.

“Can I have one of each? Peaches and white chocolate chip?”

“What?” He seemed surprised. Which was interesting because surely it couldn’t have been crazy. Peaches and white chocolate chips had to be popular if he had them. He shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” She frowned.

“Because s’extra work t’make a whole batch of peachpancakes and chocolate chip. One or the other.”

Maybe it was his tone or her frustration. The nerves of heading to town hall after breakfast. The piss-poor impression she was making at the extremely local diner where everyone seemed to know Harry. Even though he was grumpy they still ate there. It was obvious this wasn’t their first day being there. They still called out for him when the mug shattered even though she was more than capable of helping.

But she didn’t want to take no for an answer. Maybe if he had placated her or smiled. Or if he just didn’t look at her like she was the bane of his existence she wouldn’t have pressed. “But... I don’t want one or the other. I want one of each.”

“Get ‘em mixed together or don’t have ‘em,” he shrugged.

“But if I get them mixed together, the peaches will sink to one side or slide off all together. The chocolate chips always sink to the bottom. So the ratio in each bite will be off. I’ve tried it before; it just doesn’t blend well.”

“If I make y’one peach and one white chocolate chip, then all m’ratios will be off. I’ll have t’purchase different quantities of peaches and chocolate chips.”

“That seems a little dramatic for one plate of—"

“S’my diner! Jus’ order what’s on the menu or order four pancakes.”

“That’s absurd! I doubt I’ll even eat one whole pancake!”

Harry swallowed hard, his jaw flexing tight. Briefly he looked at the ceiling and then back at her. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Order what’s on the menu or don’t order at—"

“Fine! Two peach pancakes!”

Honestly, she has no idea why she was arguing in the first place. It was idiotic and childish but there was something about the grumpiness that was off-putting and made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was solely because he didn’t seem to like her, and she was trying really hard to fit in and he was the only person she had met so far that was close to her own age. If she could get him to like her, then maybe she wouldn’t be friendless and lonely.

With another large sigh (like it was painful for him to be standing near her) he rolled his eyes and headed to the back to make her breakfast. She wouldn’t be surprised if he poisoned them.

The diner was still quiet, and she could feel eyes flicking over to her repeatedly, their gazes heating her up with knowledge she was being watched. To keep her cool, she continued flipping through her paperwork folder and scrolled on her phone.

About ten minutes later, Harry returned holding her plate. It was practically silent again. The show that ensued was not forgotten by the other customers. Harry failed to hide his interest in her paperwork and failed to hide the fact he was reading whatever was in front of her. It didn’t bother her, honestly. She wanted to be an open book. Especially in a small town and especially with the guy that looked beyond irritated with her.

Trying again was insanity. But she was nothing if not one for perseverance. “Do you know what time the town hall opens? I tried to find a time online but—"

Harry snorted. “Town Hall doesn’t do online. S’whenever Sutton gets there t’unlock.”

She blinked. Small towns. “When’s that?”

“Usually before nine-thirty.”

“Usually?”

Harry shrugged, placing the plate in front of her. She could smell cinnamon and maple. Of course, the peaches were starting to caramelize as well and so it really looked utterly delicious. “Sometimes he forgets his alarm. Then s’before ten-thirty.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Alright,” she nodded. “Hey,” she called quietly as Harry turned to leave. “Do you do tabs? I’m probably going to be here every morning before work. It’s fine if you don’t. Just... figured it would easier.”

Did it get even quieter? Harry had a way with sighing. Heavily. Like talking to her and thinking were the two greatest and hardest tasks he’d ever been given in his life. Her eyes quickly darted around the place. There were enough tables to seat about twenty people plus five seats at the counter. It was busy—not crowded or full, but busy. It was just after the morning commute group had left; she had to imagine. The hustle of the nine-to-five crowd was long gone. “Sure,” he shook his head. “Every Friday.”

She was certain she didn’t imagine it that time. The entire place was silent for another ten seconds before the low murmur picked up again.

“Okay, thank you. I just... moved into town and I had no food at my house.”

“Whose house?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Whose house did y’buy?”

“Oh... uh... the Holliston’s?” Was that the name someone said a few moments ago? It had to be because no one corrected her, and it was apparent everyone was listening to her to talk to Harry.

“Nice couple,” she supposed she got it right then. “Do you want coffee?” He asked.

Was this him warming up to her? It was interesting. It wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t arguing. Which she liked. Although arguing with him was kind of... fun in its own way. But she needed a friend before she argued with him for hours on end.

“Oh, yes,” she nodded quickly. “Please. Thank you.” Was it hot in there? Harry was attractive—even if he was grumpy. A sour face usually turned her off immediately. But with Harry... it didn’t seem so grumpy anymore. Especially now that he stopped arguing with her. The crease between his eyebrows disappeared. His frown turned to a more neutral expression. She swore that flicker of amusement was back again. “This is a really cute town,” she remarked.

Harry ignored the comment as he poured her a mug of steaming coffee and placed a little plate of cream and sugar packets beside it. “What brings y’here?” He asked. She did hear his skepticism like maybe he was going to kick her out before she unpacked if she wasn’t good enough for the clique-y village.

“Oh,” she swallowed. “I’m hoping to open a book shop.”

Harry tilted his head at her, surprise all over his face and she couldn’t figure out for the life of her why that would be. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded. Approval? Was she in the club? “Alright, well... welcome, I guess. Let me know if y’need help with the water at y’house. It always gave the Holliston’s trouble in the winter, and I’d have t’go over and fix it. Don’t want y’pipes t’freeze.”

That was it. He walked away. She watched the grumpy, attractive man tend to the tables, cleaning, and serving all by himself. The others were patient. There was no rushing to get to work like it was Starbucks and everyone quietly waited their turn. There wasn’t a lot of small talk with Harry, but people smiled at him. Like they knew him from the time he was a baby. Maybe they did.

She hoped he would warm up to her. It would be nice to have a friend like him.

Turning to her breakfast, she cut into both pancakes stacked on top of one another, brought a bite of the two little pieces to her mouth after drowning it in enough maple syrup to make the man look at her suspiciously from across the room.

There was no way someone was that concerned about ratios of one patron. He could be grumpy all he wanted, but Harry was dramatic too. (Even if it was way more syrup than she needed, and he probably had a point in worrying about syrup—especially if she was going to be there every day.)

But as the bite hit her tastebuds, she had to look down and see it for herself.

One pancake was peach and the other was white chocolate chip.

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If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[leakyrocktarot]

What you want to hear Vs What you need to hear

Warning: This reading can and will be extremely blunt and a little harsh. Viewer discretion is advised.

DISCLAIMER: Take what resonates and leave what doesn't. If you are seeing this, you were meant to see it. How you take these readings and what you choose to do with them is entirely up to you.

If you need any extra help, a place to talk and heal, somewhere to just scream into the void, feel free to reach out!

Pile 1

What you want to hear:

It's going to be easy, it'll come to you naturally. What is yours will always come to you and will never pass you. All you have to do is be in a receiving energy.

What you need to hear:

So- here’s the thing, don’t fault yourself for believing this. Many tarot readers would often say these same few things creating a false sense of security, a false sense of hope. The truth us, none of us ever really considered just how much work is put into our dreams, our goals, bringing them into reality. That’s why it’s easier to fantasize about it, dream about that golden opportunity falling into our laps. Now I won’t be the one to say it doesn’t happen like that- but I will have to say, it’s very rare. The thing is, the universe only presents you what you are prepared for, and you have to really question whether or not you are actually prepared to handle the weight of your dreams. 

We think about all of the nice feelings, the good times, the positive sides to our goals but never do we truly consider the weight, the gravitas of the negative aspects of our goals and this is where you, my dear reader are currently at. There are a lot of hidden aspects in this world, things that people wouldn’t consider and I hope this exercise can help you come to terms with what you are truly asking for. Can you handle the physical workload, numerous late nights? What about your mental health? Are you capable of expressing yourself or are you shoving your pain deep down until they explode? What about your physical health? Are you eating enough? Staying hydrated? 

Every aspect of this goal of yours needs to be analyzed. What skills will you need for when you achieve your goal? Work on those. It's going to take a lot of actual effort, a lot of work and it will not be easy at every step but it will get easier and be worth it. You have to put in the physical work, but also the mental and emotional work to be able to handle those negative aspects. Heavy is the head that wears the crown and your head is heavy, but you will succeed if you put in the actual work from the moment you see this. 

Pile 2

What you want to hear:

You lover is coming in, just around the corner, maybe in a few days, your true twin flame.

What you need to hear:

Let it go, it isn't going to happen because you aren't doing what you're supposed to be doing and taking yourself and your life seriously, you are living in a fantasy, living in your head and waiting for a knight in shining armour and it’s not gonna happen. You are severely neglecting your life, your health, your mental well being because it is easier to live in the delusion that it is to face reality. It’s like you wake up, check out of life for the day to live in your head with prince/princess charming, and then clock back in at night to dream about your perfect fantasy person. Well, because of that, they aren’t coming in.

They are not going to come in because you cannot handle it. You cannot bear the concept, or even fathom what it would actually be like because you’ve convinced yourself it will happen in only one specific way. Listen, you don’t even have the emotional maturity to handle your dream relationship, you will 100% sabotage your own relationship because you wouldn’t even know how to appreciate it being right in front of you and will choose to live within your daydreams even if they were in your face. You will not be grateful, you won’t have gratitude, you won’t be able to pull yourself from the fantasy that you live in your head enough to actually pursue this person. The universe does not give you what you want just because you want it, you have to work for it, show the universe that this is something you can manage because it’s not about you. Especially since it’s not about you. Have you thought about how your future person would feel? This isn’t to get you to be self conscious in your flaws and insecurities, it’s to get you to face the real world and face reality and start being the person you wish to be in those dreams. The universe will not plop your person on your door step because the universe wants whats best for you and your person. Your person deserves to be noticed and loved as much as you dream about them loving you. If you cannot handle actually having a relationship, the universe will not give you one. You have to do your shadow work, you need to heal your wounds, you have to stop avoiding the real world because you’re dooming yourself to chasing a fantasy that will not come. This is dangerous because it is truly bordering on the level of spiritual psychosis here, pull back before it’s too late.

Pile 3

What you want to hear:

You are wealthy, You are rich, You are that bitch.

What you need to hear:

You can be a little bit of a pompous bitch and you need to tone it down. These affirmations are sending you down a path of delusional grandiose view of yourself, you need actual affirmations and not lies. You can't fuel yourself on coffee and crystals. Lol, let me tone it down a bit. The affirmations you are doing are- ok, but they are subpar. They barely scratch the surface, it’s like trying to go deep sea fishing but using a hook with a buoy attached to it. You are barely getting deep enough to get that fish, leaving you starving. 

Take some time to sit with yourself, what is it that you are struggling in? What are you avoiding, what is the feeling you are trying to suppress with these affirmations? Let's do an exercise, your affirmation of choice is “I am rich”, the reason why you are saying it is to affirm to yourself and to also manifest financial wealth, but why? Maybe you are struggling to pay your bills, maybe you have debt you wish to pay off. Telling yourself you are rich is not helping, it’s not affirming anything, it’s lying to yourself. Words are powerful, the brain itself, cannot tell a joke from the truth therefore it will believe whatever we think to be fact and if you believe that you are rich without the funds to back it up, you are creating a dangerous dynamic of you overspending because you believe you are rich and can afford it. This is dramatised to emphasise the point. 

If you want to actually manifest financial abundance, you have to have the mindfulness to handle it as well. Why do you think when people will the lottery they blow all of their money so quickly? Because when you go without for so long, living in survival mode for so long, the adrenaline of not having to worry overrides everything and you end up buying everything you’ve ever wanted until you have nothing left, now you are back at square one and probably in an even worse position. You have to affirm the mindfulness, instead of saying “i am rich” say “I am resourceful, I am abundant, I receive wealth infinitely” This not only calls the wealth to you, but it sets the notion that you are mindful and know how to wield that sword. You can’t be “that bitch” by lying to yourself, you can’t copy the look and vibe of Regina George and go around acting like her and call yourself Regina because you aren’t her, you’re copying her, you don’t actually have what she has. Find a way to actually make it yourself.

Pile 4

What you want to hear:

You are doing so well, you are doing amazing and nothing needs to change

What you need to hear:

Go eat a fucking bagel, put some food in your stomach and drink some water before you pass out and meet god. You are doing well in many aspects except for self care. Self care is not just running a bath with nice smelling bombs and cute candles and a cup of tea, self care is treating yourself like a human that is deserving of living, act like you are a parent to your body and see what I mean. Choose yourself bitch. you spend your days fantasizing about fancy foods only to eat a small bag of chips and call it a day. nourish yourself.

You are quite literally running on fumes and I’m surprised you even have enough cognitive capability to pick a pike and read this message. You cannot keep overworking yourself, under-nourishing yourself and expect things to be great for you. How the hell are you supposed to receive an award and give your thank you speech if you can barely hold your eyes open long enough to see where you are. I know you want to be successful, I know you want to experience the wealth and stability, but what use is any of it if you can’t even allow yourself to enjoy it? It is okay to take a nap, it is okay to rest yourself, it is okay to have an off day, it is okay to be bored, it is okay to do nothing. You don’t have to constantly be on your feet, always be doing something to earn the right to existence. You need to find the calm in the slow, find the calm in just existing and being you. You truly do not need to be doing a million and one things, it’s truly okay to be bored because boredom spurs creativity. How do you think we were able to create all of the things we have in this world? How they discovered cheese, how they created music? Because they had nothing else to do.

You can take a break right now and I promise you your life will not fall apart. This is not your cue to go and doom scroll on tiktok, instagram, twitter, shit even reddit. This is your cue to sit in silence, maybe a little bit of classical music and have a cup of tea, a bagel, a croissant, an espresso martini if you’re a fancy bitch and relax. Take a nap, do some soothing yoga, take a break from the grind culture, take a break from being productive, take a break from being stuck in the cogs of capitalism. Go out with friends, take a walk, something where you can experience the slowness of life and enjoy the world around you rather than zooming so fast through things. I see you moving so quickly through life that you don’t even stop to enjoy the beauty that is being alive.

Secret Pile 5

You know this pile is for you if: You are seeing this pile, were drawn to one or more pile, or couldn't choose a pile to begin with but still wanted to see the piles.

What you want to hear:

That career wants you too, that job wants you too, that person wants you too, the life you dream about wants you too

What you need to hear:

That career wants you too, that job wants you too, that person wants you too, the life you dream about wants you too. The things that you desire wants you too.

It is a hard world we are living in and sometimes we struggle to find the will to live, to believe that things will be better for us, to find the motivation to keep chasing our goals and our dreams. Here's the thing, the universe will always reward effort, and you are doing the best you can with what you have and the thing about the best is that there is always room for improvement. You know deep down what you must do in order to call in your dream life. You know if you want that dream person you have to heal your trauma. You know if you want that career you have to heal your fear of being perceived. The life that want you, wants you too because that life wants to exist too and it cannot exist without you at the center however, you cannot be superman without the superman powers. Your dream life, your dream person, your dream career, everything that you ever want are tied to you, and they are tied to the best version of you. The best version of you is the most authentic, healthy (mentally, emotionally), the most bold and audacious you.

You may feel discouraged, you may feel like giving up, but you've got this. Your future self wants you to keep going, to see where they are, to look back at what you've made, to be proud of yourself, and for you to experience the life the two of you created. You are doing this for your younger self and guess what? Your future self is doing this for you. The things you face, are lessons to learn, to make the experiences of the future easier to handle.

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that Konig was kicked out of his old apartment because his last deployment was last for years and he decided to find another place to rent a share apartment. When he opened his new apartment's door to move in, reader accidently greeted him with the biggest squirt in his life that he's ever seen =)))) (like reader didn't know he'd move in that day)

I love it, a great way to start off a new lease😈

Roommates (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2 Part 3

>cw: fem/afab, masturbation

1.5k word count

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.

Coming back after four years of being deployed, he was greeted with a huge pile of mail. Plopping his body in his desk chair, he began to look for a new place to live. That when he finds you listing. Pets are okay, no smoking, and only one other roommate. The apartment was in a nice area too. Without going to look at the place, König messaged the tenant to apply for the available room.

When you posted the ad, you didn’t add that you’re a woman. You didn’t want people applying just to be creeps or to get harassed. When König’s application comes in, you think it sounds too good to be true. Older man, no pets, doesn’t smoke, is military so he would be deployed for months at a time, maybe years, and willing to divide the rent 40/60, him covering the larger half, since he said he is paid well. It was an incentive König was hoping would help inspire you and make you pick him since the spot was perfect for what he needs.

Flipping back and forth between König’s application and this woman your age, you feel torn. The woman would make a fun roommate, but she is a struggling artist and you don’t want to be put in a situation where you’re paying full rent WITH a roommate.

König on the other hand, while he is a man, will be gone most of the time and is willing to pay more meaning you’d be able to set aside money and finally save some.  It’s a selfish reason, but times are hard right now.

You send back a response message to König to tell him that he’s got the room. You send him the move-in date and where to pick up the key. Instantly you get a message back saying he will be about a week late to move in but will send you the money now. You phone chimes and you see your Venmo with his portion of the rent. Feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you go back to cleaning up the apartment.

Two weeks pass and König gets back from his mission a week earlier than expected. He walks past the boxes of his belongings stacked along the wall of his office. His shoulders slumped over, exhausted from all of his recent travels. He sits at his desk, pulling off his sniper hood and opens up the email with all of the information about his new living situation. Leaning back, he lets out a deep sigh and looks at the time. Figuring it was too late he decided to wait until tomorrow to move in.

The next morning you wake up a little after 9am and make yourself breakfast. You check your emails to see if there has been any word from König. Nothing. After you eat breakfast you sit on the living room couch, wasting time. Since today is your day off you planned on getting some chores done, but you have other things on your mind.

Quickly, you stand from the couch and go to your room. Opening up your underwear drawer you grab a black bag of goodies. You open it up and pull out your favorite silicon toy before going to the kitchen sink to wash. The hot guy from your commute to work everyday comes to mind as you begin to daydream about him naked, kissing you, touching you, fucking you...

Drying off your dildo and walking back to the living room couch, you pull the throw blanket from the back of your couch and lay it down as a makeshift towel. You pull down your pants and underwear before laying back on the couch. Your fingers go to gently rub your clit while you close your eyes and begin to day dream.

Him kissing your neck lightly as his fingers circle your clit, leg twitching as you moan to him. His fingers slowly inching lower and pushing into your tight little cunt. His fingers pumping in and out quickly as he moves his lips to yours; his mouth devouring your moans. His other hand moves to your breast and begins to lightly tug at your nipple.

You open your eyes for a second and remove your fingers from your cunt and rub your arousal on the blanket underneath you. Moving your hand from your breast, you reach over and grab your dildo from the coffee table. You move yourself so you can get more comfortable, rubbing your dildo over your wet folds. Letting out a sigh, you lean back and close your eyes again.

His naked body looms over you as he rubs his erection over your wet little pussy. His hand reaches back out and begins to rub your nipple.

“You ready y/n?”

You let out a soft yes before he shoves his cock inside of you slowly, inch by inch. He begins to thrust into you quickly, the sound of your loud moans filling the room. His hand moving off of your breast so he can fuck you quicker. You reach out gripping the bedsheets and pulling them as your legs begin to tremble from his cock hitting your g-spot over and over…

König decided to only grab his duffle bag full of clothes and a few boxes for his first trip. He will be off the next few days so he has time to go back and grab his stuff, take his time moving in. He walks out to his SUV and loads up the trunk with five boxes. Sitting down, he puts the address into his GPS and begins to take off.

The building was nice, there was a park nearby and it was 40 minutes from base. That gave him a sense of privacy. He parks his SUV at the front, pulls his sniper hood off, and walks inside to go to the building manager. He welcomes König and hands him the key to the apartment that you left for him two weeks ago.

“Danke.” König takes the key and begins to walk back to his SUV to grab two boxes.

Apartment 304. König walks up the stairs and gets to his floor. He looks around the hall, doors with cute welcoming mats and small seasonal decorations giving the complex a nice homely vibe.

Your eyes still closed and hand behind your head holding on to the couch cushion as your legs are spread wide open. Your 7-inch dildo moving quickly in and out of you as you moan out, but quietly enough that the neighbors can’t hear. One of your feet moves to the coffee table to spread your legs open even more, back arching as you get close to release.

König gets to the front door, holding his boxes in one arm as he opens the front door. He hears your moans and the sound of the dildo in your pussy before you begin to squirt. His eyes glued to your pussy as he watches the impressive stream leaving you. His jaw drops and he accidently drops one of the boxes. He looks down at the box and then back up at you to see you open your eyes and look at him.

You freeze as you realize your door is open and a giant man is just standing there. You assume it’s König, but he wasn’t supposed to be here for another week. You feel as if your heart is going to explode. Your face is hot with embarrassment. Before anyone can say anything, you pull your dildo out, get up and run to the bedroom.

König stands there looking at the wet spot on the blanket and the wet mess on the floor. Your pants and underwear tossed onto the other end of the couch. He takes a deep breath and picks up the box on the ground before walking further into the apartment. He closes the door behind him and just stands there awkwardly with a boner.

You’re in your room dying of embarrassment. You don’t know what to do, you can’t face him now. Not after that. You put on underwear and pants to open your door and yell out.

“Your bedroom is the last room down the hall to the left!” Thankfully on the other side of the apartment from yours.

“Okay, thank you!” He yells back.

He walks towards his room, his eyes lingering on the mess you left behind for a moment. Finally, he makes it to his bedroom door. He opens it to see a queen size bed and two dressers. The window is letting in the bright sun. He drops his boxes on the floor and sits on the bed, looking around the room for a while.

He can’t stop replaying the scene of you squirting over and over in his mind. His hand wandered to his boner instinctively. You’re his new roommate, he doesn’t want to start the relationship off by jerking off to you. Yet, he can’t seem to stop himself as he unzips his pants and pulls them down enough to release his cock. He closes his eyes and replays your sounds and the moment over and over as he strokes his cock.

Part 2 Part 3

[slut4b1ls]

—NOTICED (part I)

BILLIE EILISH X F!READER

summary: One morning you wake up to a mail from Billie Eilish’s manager asking you to star in her new music video..(continuation; check out the previous parts)

prologue part one part two

These were the longest 3 weeks in your entire life, but as for now, you were seated in the taxi, driving to your hotel in LA. The last time you spoke on the phone with the manager was this morning when she called you to make sure everything was alright. You couldn’t wait to finally get to your hotel and were planning on going to sleep as soon as possible. The shooting was supposed to start at 4pm the next day and till then you were «free».

As soon as you arrived to the destination, you got out of the taxi and rushed to your hotel room. You entered the space, got undressed and went into the bed. You decided to check your phone before going to sleep and started scrolling on Instagram when suddenly you got a notification that Billie followed you. Your heart stopped.

When you got your senses back, you saw that she followed up with a message that said: «hope you are ready for tomorrow;) heard you got to your hotel room safe». This was the exact moment you realized that it’s all getting serious. You texted her back and quickly went to sleep to calm yourself down and get some rest.

When you woke up, you picked your phone and saw a new notification: «good to hear, see you at 4». You liked her message feeling the butterflies in your stomach and quickly got up to start getting ready.

The set was about an hour drive away from you so as soon as you finished getting ready you went out. Your makeup was done lightly since you knew they would be redoing it at the set. You called the taxi and told the driver where to take you. The whole drive you were silent, thinking about what is about to happen. The questions were running through your mind the whole time.

The hour felt like forever. As you arrived, you took a deep breath, got out of the car and entered the place you were about to shot the mv at. The whole team was already there and the first person to greet you was Billie’s manager. The woman thanked you for coming and told you to follow her into Billie’s garderobe. You were so stressed and tried your best not to show it, everything was happening so fast.

As you stood outside of Billie’s garderobe, the manager knocked on the door and you heard Billie shouting "It’s open, come in".

The woman opened the door and you saw Billie sitting in the chair, infront of a mirror. "Hi" she said as her eyes immediately met yours. She was smiling at you and all you could do was just smile back, the stress was really eating you alive. Then you heard the manger speak, remembering she’s still with you two "Well, I will leave you for now so you can talk. The makeup artist should be here anytime, be ready". The woman left and closed the door behind her.

"So? How was your way here?" Billie started. "It was fine. I.." You began answering when suddenly you weren’t able to get any more words out of your mouth. "Don’t be stressed, I don’t want you to be nervous about this" Billie said seeing the way you froze. She got up from her chair and walked closer toward you, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"I’m sorry this whole situation is a lot for me" you said quietly. Billie stepped back a little. "Don’t be sorry. I want you to feel comfortable. Do you know what we are planning the mv to be, right?" she asked. "Yes, your manager explained everything to me on the phone. She was really nice". Billie looked down and smiled to herself. "Oh yeah, she’s a lovely woman".

You started getting a little more comfortable as your emotions subsided. There was a moment of pure silence between you two. Billie was just looking at you and you were maintaining the eye contact. "I wanted to ask.." you started "Why me? I mean, I’m not famous and I have never played in a mv before. Where did you even find me?" Billie chuckled as she heard your question but quickly gave out a response. "Well, I was just scrolling through my Instagram feed when I saw your post. I though you were really pretty and would fit perfectly".

And once again your heart stopped and you looked down as your cheeks started to get pink. "Just don’t get nervous again" Billie said laughing "You were doing so good". You looked up and met her eyes again. Then her eyes suddenly went on your lips for a second and then back again she looked in your eyes. This moment felt so intimate. You thought this whole situation couldn’t get more unreal until Billie started getting closer to you. You two were now inches apart, your checks started going from pink to red when all of a sudden you heard a knock and the door opened.

a/n: Hellooo, the first part is finally here!! Please let me know what you think and I hope you are ready for part 2 dropping soon👀🍒

tags: @hkkuugu @jades-thought-thoughts

if you would like to be added to my taglist to be updated when I post a new fic, let me know!!

masterlist.

[jarofstyles]

Take Me Higher

Happy 4/20 my lovelies. I just whipped this up quickly so I hope you guys enjoy it 🫣

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WC- 2.5k

Warnings- use of marijuana, high users, switch!H, choking, cum play, etc

Picture is not mine, credits to owner

————-

The smoke had cleared out of the room but it was a bit cold still from the chill of the night. It wasn’t quite warm enough to be spring in her humble opinion, but she’d take what she could get. Plus, Harry had brought her some food stuff for them and she was feeling the effects kicking in as she felt a weight settle on her body. Her eyes were hooded and she was a little giggly as his scent engulfed her, vanilla and tobacco more prominent than the smell she tried to keep from her place.

“Mm… you’re warm.” A cool nose brushed her throat, making her shiver as the man crawled up her body and rested himself on top of her. Harry always got like this when they smoked, but it seemed even more prominent today.

“And you’re a needy little thing.” Fingers carded through his hair, knocking the beanie off his head as he buried his face in her neck. There was no real response except a whine, breath warm on her skin as he tried to warm himself up. The window had to be opened so they’d not get any real complaints from their flat, but luckily they were sure her neighbor wasn’t home today.

Comfortable silence made her melt further into the sofa, the playlist on low as her eyes fluttered shut and she busied herself with playing with his hair. He’d been a good smoking buddy for a while, but she knew why he really came over. It was only a matter of time.

A large hand slipped under her body, wiggling itself under her top to feel the hot expanse of her back. He couldn’t get close enough, needy little thing, and Y/N was fully enjoying being clung to. Physical touch always made the high even better, but that’s just her opinion. Or maybe it was physical touch was better when high? She didn’t know. Her brain didn’t want to analyze that right this second.

“Did you sleep last night? Tired?” Her voice was soft as she didn’t want to disturb the vibe, twirling a curl around her fingertips.

“No.” He shook his head, seeming like he was trying to get into her skin. “Jus’ want to get close to you. You’re warm and you smell fuckin’ incredible.” His voice was a little bit more hoarse, but that was to be expected. “You’re my favorite person... To smoke with.” He added on to the thought hurriedly but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. Fingers trailed down her spine, making her shudder a little.

“Hm, is that because I let you eat my pussy?” She smirked, feeling him pull his head form her neck with a glare. Sex with him was fantastic. Maybe it was because they were usually blazed when they did it and they both felt the sensitivity that went with it along with a more intense orgasm. He was the only one who could match her drive when she was like this, so he’d easily become a favorite person of her. Though she had a feeling that he’d do it just as well without the smoking bit, that would be something to unpack at a later date.

“Hey… don’t make me sound like a lecher.” He pouted, sending her heart to beat a bit harder. One thing she’d give the man was that he was adorable. “Not the only reason. I love doin’ that but… you have the best snacks n’you let me talk about anything. Your cunt is just a bonus… though I really do love it.” Harry wasn’t usually super shy, but sometimes he got a bit bashful when it came to Y/N. There was a slight hesitation as he let their noses brush, ghosting his lips over hers. “Can I?”

“So sweet for asking.” Y/N cooed, smiling n at his request. He wanted to kiss her. She could taste how bad he wanted it when the high had hit him, but now he wasn’t able to hold back much. “Go ahead, pretty boy. Since you seem to like it so much.”

Harry was a little messy with it, smearing their lips together and grazing his teeth over her bottom lip. There wasn’t much to hide his desperation as he adjusted himself on top of her, pulling one of her legs to wrap around his hip. “I do.” He breathed before licking into her mouth. Her lips were so sweet and soft, tasting like the cola she’d drank and mint chapstick. His favorite thing. Pulling apart with a soft clicking sound, he let out a groan as he looked down at her. Her bun was all messed up with some flyaways, lips wet and eyes hazy. His favorite sight. Seeing he undone when usually she was so put together, knowing he’d been the one to get to see her like this… it did things to his “I really fucking do.”

Y/N whimpered as he devoured her. His tongue hot in her mouth and his hand gripping her thigh to keep her close, she couldn’t help but grow hot when she felt him against her. It wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last, but it still surprised her every time. How had she ever fit that inside of her? Tightening her legs around his hips, she heard the hitch in his breathing before he pulled away from her lips to groan. It gave her a chance to pull her shirt off her body, exposing her tits to him.

Harry nearly whimpered at the sight of them, pressing a bruising kiss to her lips before making his way down. “Fuck, the things you do t’me.” He whispered, moving closer to her breasts. “Can I kiss on them a bit, pretty? It’ll feel good.” He pleaded, sighing against the skin as she nodded at the request.

Sponging kisses all over the swells, he gently rocked his hips into hers to relieve a bit of the ache. His cock was thick and throbbing, desperate for some relief. The hear of her cunt could he felt through her panties, making Harry thank whatever higher power that she’d chosen the big shirt no pants combination today. “Gorgeous. You’re so pretty, all over.” He praised, puckering his lips over a nipple for a kiss. She shivered under him, her grip in his hair getting fuller as he brought it into his mouth.

Y/N sighed in pleasure as his hot mouth suckled on her. She’d loved when he did this last time, licking over her tits while he was inside of her. He was still clothed this time but somehow that was just as hot to her. Panties were ruined regardless, but she arched her back slightly as he took more of her breast into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the nipple. “Oh, shit.” The girl whimpered, rocking her hips in return. The stimulation made her head cloudy, or maybe it was the blunt, but she didn’t really care. It all felt so fucking good, it didn’t matter. “Harry… you’re so nice t’me.” She sighed, watching him pull off with a soft ‘pop’.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s what you deserve, yeah? So nice to me too…” he sighed into her chest, placing wet kisses to the skin that glistened in the light, leaving cool spots once he left. “Let me come over and smoke, let me eat your snacks, kiss your pretty mouth… let me taste you, sometimes let me feel that perfect little pussy wrapped around me… have t’be nice to my girl.”

She didn’t have a chance to answer before he repeated the process with her other nipple, making her pant. The grinding was getting harder, her breathing matching it as he rubbed over her clit in the motions. Back and forth, sweet relief as she spread herself out further and clutched his head to her breast as he worshiped them. “Fuck me, keep going like that and M’gonna cum.” She warned him, though she had no real want of him stopping.

“So cum.” He mumbled into her skin. “Won’t be the last time you do it tonight.” And oh- oh. He sounded so self assured and cocky and it did something to her, a zap of electricity to her tummy as she moaned into the air, clinging to him.

His back was firm under her hands, not stopping herself from sliding them unde this tee shirt. His skin was burning under her palms as she dragged her nails lightly down his shoulder blades. “Harder.” He instructed, rutting into her with more force. “Scratch me. S’okay.” He couldn’t help connecting their mouths again, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh as it clung to him.

She did as asked, surprising her when he let out a deeper groan than she’d heard before. His hips quickened, sure his gray sweats were ruined but uncaring about anything else. “Gonna make me cum in my joggers.” He panted against her lips, unable to keep himself from touching her. His mouth was a magnet to her body, his cock throbbing and balls feeling exceptionally full as he dry fucked her.

“Mm… here.” She momentarily reached between them and tugged them down far enough that he was out of them. “Cum on my panties.” Her voice rang into his ears. “Already ruined them. Can’t you feel how wet you made me?” And fuck, could he.

Without the sweats in the way he could feel her soaked through panties wetting his prick, the heat of her through the barely there fabric making him insane. Though the real thing that got him was her request. “You really want that?” He questioned, buttoning their lips together for a moment because he simply couldn’t help it. “You want t’be sticky with my load all over your panties and your skin? I’ve got so much for you…” he wasn’t joking either. It had been a bit since they’d hung out and his hand didn’t do him as much justice as she could. His dick desperately missed her.

“You know I don’t mind a mess, Harry.” She purred, moving a hand to wrap around his throat. “And you’ll be a good boy and lick it off my skin, won’t you? Then you’ll lick my pretty pussy until you’re ready to fuck me. Because you’re always such a good boy for me…”

Oh, fuck. Harry whimpered at the feeling of her hand around his throat, the drop of his guilty pleasure nickname, immediately feeling the shift. He was determined to please her before, but this tone of voice and her slight overtaking made him a bit pathetic. “Yes- yeah, M’gonna do it.” He promised, adjusting them slightly so he tip could brush right over her clit. “Anything you want. Want t’make you feel so good. M’good for you.” He nodded, messily kissing her again as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

Y/N hummed in pleasure as he got them to the right position. His hard cock rutting against her like the fabric wasn’t even there, thick and hot. She loved feeling him, knowing she’d done that to him. Her stomach tightened as she felt the perfect thrust from him, gasping into his mouth. “Oh- yes, like that. Keep it light that, baby.” She pleaded, mouth falling open as he repeated it. “Mhm… there. Gonna cum.” She had been worked up for a little bit now but feeling his need to please her helped her get there.

“Please, please do it. Want you to cum, want you to feel so good… you’re so perfect, please cum for me. Give it to me, fuckin’ goddess….” He spoke to her like he needed her orgasm to breathe. Whimpery and needy and unlike how he usually sounded, but with his perfect angle and the friction against her clit combined with that, she was pushed over the edge.

“Yes- yes, fuck me.” Head falling further back into the cushions, she dug her nails into his back with one hand while the other tightened on his throat. Sparks igniting her nerves and her legs held on to him like a lifeline as she came. Harry never knew a prettier sight in his life than how she looked when he made her orgasm.

“Give me it too, H. Make me a sticky mess so you can clean me.” She gasped out. “You’ve been so good, I know you can give me what I want. Please?” Her voice shook slightly. “Give me what I want.” Giving just the slightest bit more pressure to the fingers on the sides of his throat, she knew exactly how much to press to make him lightheaded. Choking was a weakness of his, something that made him cum embarrassingly fast a lot of the time, but this time he was grateful as he let out a sob. His prick was slick with her and aching to release but he tried to hold back for her sake. With the mix of the high being at its height, the sensitivity overwhelming him and how she knew exactly how to touch him- The moment she called him a good boy and gave him the head rush he needed, he was a fucking goner.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, M’gonna cum-“ he babbled her name as he found his release. Jerking against her, hot ribbons of the pearly cum shot against the covered cunt and over her tummy. His balls pulsed as he unloaded on her, smearing it over himself and her as his hips sloppily worked him through the orgasm. Face slack in rapture, he let out a hoarse groan as the last of it spilled from his tip, hips jerking a few times before he felt her hand fall and his mouth descended on hers again.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, hm?” He slurred, biting her lip with a hum before he lowered his body onto hers. His prick was sensitive but he made no move to pull back, pecking her over and over again as she caressed his cheek with her choking hand. Y/N was by far the best at it regardless, intuition leading her to know exactly what he liked. “Feel like m’fucking floating. Dunno if it’s the high or your cunt.” He snickered, feeling her return the laugh.

“Probably a mix of both.” She smiled, giving him a few kisses of her own. “But we’ve got plenty to keep it going for a while. Are you up for it, pretty boy?” The girl had no plans but to be blazed and fucked for the rest of the night, and she hoped he was on the same page.

“M’up for anything, you fuckin’ goddess.” He mumbled as he sat up on his knees to look at the mess they’d made. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen, her cunt and little thatch of hair visible through the now transparent fabric and splattered with cum on the ruined panties and her tummy. It made his mouth water just looking at it. “Jesus… look at this.” He mumbled, spreading her further open with his hand. “Seems like I’ve got a lot of work to do, don’t I?”

[gladiatorcunt]

　 　╰ • ❀ - ❛happy birthday, mr. emperor!❜ ✦

cw: afab reader, daddy kink, pretend it’s april 19th, implied painal sorry for writing an anakin that would love jane eyre too much, bondage mention, dark themes, implied age gap, blowjob

“I wish you could see how the stars I made shine for you, angel.”

Last night Anakin had tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, silently chuckling when it sprung back to smack you in the face. Your nose scrunched in that bunny-esque way he loves, and he whispered against your cheek that he loved you before departing your home. As soon as you heard the door swoosh shut behind him, a bright smile beamed across your face as you sprung out of bed and began preparing. You’d gotten better at pretending to be asleep, or maybe he’s just humoring you.

It took you hours to set up your husband’s surprise stay at home birthday celebration. His job as the Emperor of the Galaxy drains the life out of him even on his good days, so you do what you can to ease the tension however possible. Today is the day in which you put your heart and soul into adoring the love of your life. It wasn’t hard to decide on this kind of party. You’re more of the long distance vacation person in the relationship, and Anakin would gently scold you about how it wouldn’t be safe to even leave the palace most of the time.

You hum a catchy tune, looking in the mirror to make sure that the bow in your hair is tied perfectly. You picked a satin fabric that matches the color of Ani’s eyes, and a part of you can’t deny that the decision was motivated by the desire to see his jaw clench in possessiveness. The little thrills you manage to witness get you through the days inside. You do some last minute twirls, glancing over your outfit and ignoring the slight discomfort of the silk ropes underneath.

Your slippers slap against the floor all the way to the dining room. The servants had already been dismissed for the day as soon as your husband had left, something else that you wouldn’t mind getting a ‘thorough scolding’ for. You know Anakin just doesn’t like for you to ever feel the need to lift a single finger if he can help it, but it’s only fair that you be the best spouse you can be on his special day.

All the food lining the long rectangle shaped table is Ani’s favorite, painstakingly put together and placed in an arrangement by your own hands. You haven’t slept in what feels like forever, but it’ll all be worth it to see how happy this will make him. Like always, you don’t care to delve into how slick your pussy gets at the thought of his approval. Even a small grunt of acknowledgement when he’s distracted drives you wild.

After making sure that absolutely everything is in the proper place, cheesy decorations strung up all over the place included, you smooth your clothes down with your palms flat and wait in the bedroom. You hope he appreciates how restrained you’ve been since he’s been gone, the tempatation to hump your puffy folds against the pillow he lays his head on is still on your mind. Anakin usually wakes you up by licking a flat stripe up your cunt under the covers and hooking his fingers in your hole to stretch it enough for him to spit in, always already naked from the night before. Like a cat kneading the surface it’s walking on, you could cry at being deprived of grounding yourself by burying your shaking hands in his soft hair.

Your excitement must bleed into the Force somehow, because you hear the heavy stomps of boots sooner than you thought. You scramble to meet your husband at the door, remembering how he once admitted that he likes to hear how happy you are to see him when he gets back. The cat never fails to return to check on the canary, and when it eats the stubbornly cheerful thing it doesn’t have to. It knows exactly where the bird is, and always will be.

You don’t even wait for him to get out of his armor and into his more casual attire that he likes to lounge around in at home. As soon as you see your favorite crow’s feet wrinkles revealed by the silver door, you pounce.

With very little effort, you reach up and push the top of your outfit off your shoulders. Anakin’s darkened gaze follows the truthfully skimpy garment as it falls to pool around your ankles. Your cheeks burn and you pray that he’ll take his time admiring you but no such luck, his eyes quickly flick up to see the start of a series of clumsily tied loose silk knots. The holonet tutorial you followed was sort of confusing, but you thought you managed to pull it off in the end!

“Fuck, look at you, bunny.” He groans, prowling around you in a slow circle. “All this for some boring old man?”

“Hey, ‘s not nice…” You wring your hands together, wiggling your plump ass for him as he makes his rounds. “You’re MY boring old man, Ani.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?” You giggle despite the warning look he’s giving you.

The heat in his gaze feels like flames licking at your spine, but you don’t push him any further. You would never want him to have a stressed induced heart attack. Your unspoken jab makes you giggle again until you realize that Anakin could peek into your mind whenever he pleases.

The sudden slap to your rear doesn’t surprise you, nor do the frenzied squeezes. He loves to watch the skin bulge out between his thick fingers, he loves your fat ass period. The blush pink ribbons were tied together in a way that you knew would enhance your curves, putting enough pressure on your plush ass and tits in particular to really make them pop. Your thighs were nothing to forget about, though, you know better than to assume that Ani doesn’t love every bit of his baby equally.

He circles back around to face you and grins. He adjusts his cock in his pants, not taking his eyes off fof you for even a second, “So fuckin’ gorgeous, honey. And here I was about to say that the best thing I could receive is waking up to you every day.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Happy Birthday.” You purr, sinking to your knees and winding your arm around his thigh, nuzzling into the seam of his pants like you were searching for something.

He ‘tsk’s above you but he sighs and waves his hand in the air, summoning an emerald green cushion to slide under your knees before you hit the floor. That pillow didn’t exist in the beginning of your relationship, but you’ve ended up loving being like this so much that it became a necessity.

Anakin groans as you mouth at his bulge over his slacks, wetting the fabric with your kitten licks to his tip. He settles a heavy palm on top of your head and gives you a couple pats. Neither of you are in any rush, both enjoying your dynamic in a more sensual way. Ani loves how cock drunk you already seem to be, the tension in his body just melts away when he can see how much you’re salivating over your mind going blank.

“You can’t go dumb on me, Angel, I haven’t even got my present yet.” He teases you and grins when you mewl distractedly.

You’re trying really hard to pay attention, promise, but you couldn’t ignore your husband’s natural musk if you tried. “ ‘ngh- hah… ‘Sorry, Daddy.”

Then you remember that you can’t spend the rest of your life on your knees (you wish), so you sheepishly wipe the drool from your mouth. You have trouble getting hold of the zipper, your fingers being too wet to properly pull it. Your embarrassment is short lived, because Anakin is using the Force to undo it and slide his pants down far enough to free his throbbing length.

You pout in disappointment when it doesn’t flop out to smack you across the face. In no time at all you’re slobbering all over his cock.

You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband, hollowing out your cheeks and humming periodically. You can’t help the satisfied grin that comes over you whenever you get a deep groan or grunt in response. Your mouth makes ‘slurp!’ sounds as you suck him off, a sharp ‘pop!’ going off when you pull the suction away to trace the veins on the underside of his curved cock. Precum beads to the surface but they’re swiftly licked away, you outright make out with the thick tip of his dick for a good minute.

Anakin would tease you for how much of a bitch in heat you’re being, but he’s no better when he wriggles his tongue fucking either of your holes. He’d call you that with love though, he’ll never forget how grateful he is to still have you after everything.

“My consort loves their dick, huh? Should I even ask if you’ve prepped your ass?” He asks and you smother your smile in his balls as you lavish them in your saliva.

“Good bunny.” Anakin sighs, balling his fist up in your hair. “Daddy knows you like it when it hurts, angel.”

And you do, even with the dried cum around the corners of your mouth and the tears spilling over. You’re smiling in between gasps of breath with every heavy thrust, you send a thought into the Force of concern over the state of Ani’s joints and you squeal when he speeds up. He hadn’t even bottomed out yet, your puffy rim was already red enough from his bullying the blunt head past your entrance.

You sob and let your mouth hang open, staring off into space as you feel his length cleave your insides in two. The kisses dotted all over your face help soothe you, but you still pant and dig your nails into his wrist on the side of your head caging you in. Anakin’s other hand kneads one of your ass cheeks, giving you more quick pats when he think you’re getting too worked up.

Some of the ribbons wrapped around your body have been destroyed, either by Anakin’s irritation when he wanted more access or by how amateurish your knot tying skills were. The ones around your ass are still intact, and you do your best to shake your ass against the remaining inches sinking inside your puckered hole, wondering if Ani can pick up on the shimmer of the ropes in the dim light.

He’s a good man, your Ani, he only lets it hurt on special occasions. If you rub up on him really nicely, ruining your ass goes outside of those occasions. It’s his birthday, why not let him play with his favorite toy how he wishes? You take pride in the leash you have around his every waking and slumbering desire, he has the same hold on you.

At the end, the universe will only know the carnage Darth Vader left in his wake. Long dead twin suns will singe the memory of Anakin Skywalker and his lover into the fabric of reality.

[uglypastels]

Eddie knows you have a voice kink and decides to take advantage of it 👀

(ie not me having a voice kink, absolutely not)

this took me too long but i also tried to rewrite this like four times because ughhhhh you are so fucking real for this one. im obsessed. so yeah, i hope you enjoy it <3 and thank you for the request

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. porn without plot, straight from the beginning. voice kink, so obviously dirty talk. fingering. mention of oral (f receiving). mention of p in v sex. bondage. (soft) dom!eddie.

masterlist // inbox //

‘Fuck sweetheart, you look so pretty, all spread out for me like that,’ Eddie smirked as he looked down at you. His hair fell over your face as he leaned in for a soft kiss, and his hands found their place at your hips. You couldn’t help but arch your back, feeling that gravitational pull that Eddie exerted… as the handcuffs dug into your wrists, there was little you could do but thrust your hips his way. 

‘So—fucking—pretty.’ He muttered between kisses over your cheek and jaw. ‘Could put you in a museum. Hang you up like this. Look at you all day.’ His voice was gruff, filled with the sexual frustration you were both tortured with over the past few hours, but the cheek and humour never left him. 

‘Maybe we should, hmm?’ His low hum sent shivers all through your neck and down your spine. ‘Hang you up, I mean. I still got that hook in the ceiling from the–’ 

‘Maybe– maybe next time, Eddie.’ It wasn’t the worst idea he had come up with, but you were so far gone you couldn’t imagine yourself getting out of this bed. All you could focus on was the deep growl of his voice– the meaning of the words barely even settled in your brain. 

‘It’s a deal, baby.’ He smiled and gave you another kiss which you returned with a moan. One of his hands had found its way up to your breast, pressing into the soft skin, thumb roaming over the most sensitive parts. 

‘Eddie,’ you moaned his name out softly, receiving another hum in response. 

‘I know, baby.’ He said after you got stuck on his name for a moment or two. ‘Don’t worry; I’ll make you feel good.’ His kisses were going lower and lower. Peppering your neck, breast, and abdomen. His path was marked out clearly. ‘So, good.’

But you whined in desperation as his lips reached below your stomach. If it hadn’t felt so good, maybe you would have been quicker on the notice, but despite it all, you still had needs. 

Eddie halted in his moves at your word. His grip on you tightened securely, big brown eyes locked in on you, checking for any signs of worry. With everything put on hold, you became more conscious of the fire burning in your body for him. Couldn’t lay still, but Eddie wouldn’t move.

‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’ 

‘I don’t–’ He was so far away, and you couldn’t do anything about it with those damn handcuffs locking you in. They wouldn’t budge even at your hardest pull, and with each second, it was becoming harder and harder to think. ‘Eddie, I–’ 

‘Yeah?’ He rubbed his hand over your thigh. It must have been meant as reassurance, but all the triggers were shot up straight to your core. ‘Baby? Hey, are you still with me?’ 

‘Yes, just...’ You didn’t want to say it. Eddie raised a curious brow as you tried to spit out your wish.

‘Don’t go down on me. Not right now.’

‘Everything good down there?’ He squeezed your thigh a bit harder, a playful grin on his lips again.

‘Yes, it’s fine, fuck me if you want, just not– not with your mouth.’ 

Eddie couldn’t help the small scoff that passed his lips. ‘Ok… may I ask why?’ He tried not to look offended. You knew how much he loved this specific activity, and usually, you did too, but this time, something different got you going. 

‘Because I–’ you huffed out, ‘because I’m getting turned on by you talking right now, so I don’t want you to stop now just to eat me out.’ If you hadn’t been cuffed to the bed posts, you would have hidden underneath the covers in embarrassment. 

There was a second of silence as Eddie processed what you said. He blinked slowly and started to climb his way back up to the head of the bed. Arms on either side of you, locking you in even more. 

His lips were nearly on yours as he spoke again. ‘Speaking of talking, we should do something about this shyness of yours. You know I will do anything for you, princess, so why not just tell me? You’re a big girl, aren’t you?’ 

 ‘Y-yes.’ The small word got caught in your throat. Nevertheless, Eddie rewarded it with a brief kiss.

‘Hmm, so you want me to talk,’ he said after pulling away, ‘what should I talk about?’ 

‘Anything— sex!’ You added quickly, knowing how Eddie could be with his humour. ‘Anything that’s– you know.’ 

‘You want me to say what I wanna do to you? How I’m going to fuck you? Hmm, is that what my princess wants?’ With each word, his voice got deeper, darker. 

‘Yes, please.’  While yours became breathless, encapsulated in moans. ‘Please, Eddie.’

‘God, I love how you beg for me, how you say my name. Gonna make you scream it tonight, baby. You’re gonna be my good girl and scream for me when I stretch your tight little pussy, hmm? Will you do that for me?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’ You squeaked out the last word when you felt his hand down on you. 

‘Thought so. Always so good for me.’ Eddie slowly started closing his fingers in on your slit, carefully approaching it with his next question too. ‘Would have loved to have my mouth on you now, sweetheart. Lick you fucking up… but my fingers will do for now, won’t they?’ He said it as if the feeling of having him deep inside you wasn’t ecstatic. Like you didn’t daydream about those fingers almost every day. 

 ‘I want them in me, Eddie. Fuck. I need it.’ And as soon as he heard it, Eddie started rubbing those close circles on your clit, getting you even more hot and bothered and ready for what was next to come. 

‘Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.’ He had a Cheshire cat smile across his face as he kept on teasing your slit. ‘All for me? All for my voice?’ 

‘You know it is.’ It wasn’t the first time you expressed your love for how Eddie sounds. You had told him on several occasions he had a hot voice, both on and off stage and in bed, but this time was certainly on a new level. Something in you felt like you could cum just from listening to him. 

‘Perhaps, but I’d still like you to say it.’ He kissed your cheek. 

‘Your voice turns me on so fucking much, Eddie.’ At this moment, he finally decided to insert his fingers and push them deep inside you. ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘I fucking adore you, baby. Taking my fingers so well– shit, I can feel you clenching as I speak. Oh, you really do love it, don’t you? Just wait until I really have my way with you– oh, fuck.’ He chuckled as you reacted to his words and actions. He leaned in so his words would be directly at your ear. Soft but nasty whispers to electrify your whole being. ‘Just imagine how good it will feel when I have my cock inside you, baby. Fill you up and fuck all thoughts out of you. Until you can’t say anything but my name. Until you can’t think about anything but me.’

‘Eddiee,’ you whined as he sped up his movements, making you shake with his fingers alone. 

‘That’s right, baby. C’mon, don’t be scared to be loud. Do you know how hot you fucking sound like this? All fucked out, and because of me? Hmm, want everyone around to know how good you’re being treated here. My princess fucked like a proper queen, aren’t you?’ 

All you could do was nod. You could hear the wetness of your pussy by this point. The tight knot in your stomach was only getting worse, ready to burst, while Eddie had no intention of stopping soon. 

‘Yeah, you’re close, hmm?  Yeah, I can tell. Fuck, c’mon, come for me, baby.’ His was was so deep and aggressive that it felt more like growling. ‘Come on, my fingers. C’mon.’

When it finally happened, your whole body went limp as the pleasure overcame you.

Eddie praised you through it all, his voice now covered in honey. ‘Such a good girl. Fuck, you did so well.’ But it might have all become too much when he pulled his fingers out of you, now glistening in your juices, and put them in his mouth. He hummed with satisfaction at the taste and, once done, smiled wickedly once more and said: ‘Divine, I tell you, sweetheart. Fucking. Divine.’ His hand was soaked up to his wrist, so he went to lick his palm. ‘Might have to go in for more later on either way.’

‘Give me a moment, why don’t you,’ you laughed, out of breath.

‘Of course, of course.’ He kissed your forehead. ‘But don’t think I’m done with you just yet.’ 

the end.

yeah, kinda ironic ending there. lol. sorry.

but thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to see what you thought of it <3

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[babyleostuff]

Hey hey :) I absolutely love your writing I can't stop myself from reading and rereading them over and over again!

I don't know if you're taking any requests, but if you are could you write about seventeen being softdoms. Like them being all manly + all soft for their s/o. Masculine without the toxicity lol

If not you can just ignore this ask 🥰

author's note | ah we love us a softdom seventeen 😍 i decided to split it up to sfw and nsfw, hope you don't mind <3

also, my inbox is open again, so if you guys have any requests or asks feel free to write me!

soft dom seventeen | ot13

SFW

The type to spoil the living shit out of you, because you deserve all the best things in the world (one word from you and the next day you’ll get whatever you mentioned). Also, may be a bit overprotective, but it’s just because he doesn’t want you to get hurt. He makes it his life mission to keep you safe at all times, so he will fight anyone who dares to make you uncomfortable. Even when he’s angry or having a fight with someone, the second you enter the room, he’s all like “hi baby ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶”:

➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo 

A complete gentleman who will do anything to make you feel like a princess. No matter how bad of a day he’s having, one look from you and he’s all smiley and happy again. His heart eyes are reserved for you and you only and he will not hesitate to use them in his favour. Protective, but not in an overbearing way. He’ll just shoot the stranger one look and they’ll know that it’s better to not make you uncomfortable. Bonus: he gives the softest kisses in the world (they make you melt on the spot):

➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Jun, Seungkwan, Vernon

He knows how weak you are for him and he will use that to his advantage. A lot. He just loves messing with you and seeing you all flustered because of him (don’t worry, he makes it up with a lot of kisses). He’ll do anything you ask him for - there is nothing more important to him than your happiness. So you can say that he’s weak for you as well??? He’s a certified simp, what can I say. Also buys you flowers out of nowhere and gets you your favourite candy just because he can:

➼ Minghao, Jeonghan, Woozi, Soonyoung

NSFW

Will be destroying you with his cock, while telling you how pretty you look. One second, the most sinful words are escaping his mouth, mocking you how weak of a slut you are for him and the second he’s giving you gentle kisses on your neck, soothing his previous made hickies. BUT, turns into a completely different person when he’s finally satisfied with how many times he’d made you cum. The aftercare is top tier and he turns into the softest and gentlest being:

➼ Seungcheol, Mingyu, Chan, Wonwoo, Woozi

Treats you like you are made of porcelain, while still fucking you nice and deep, hitting all of the right places. Most likely will make you come with his mouth or fingers a couple of times, before he slams his cock into you, making you see stars. Repeats how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing, while sucking your nipples and circling your clit with his thumb. He swears he lives for your moans and the way you push your hips against his face when he’s eating you out:

➼ Joshua, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, Jun

Teases the shit out of you, before he even pulls out his dick from his briefs (which at this point you’re practically begging him to fuck you). Will make you say exactly what you want him to do to you, every single sinful thought that you’re having or else he’s just going to leave you hot and horny. But, when he’s satisfied with how wet and needy you are, he’s ramming his cock into you in no time. The touch of his fingertips is feather like, his lips slowly outlining the shape of your body, while his cock is fucking you dumb:

➼ Soonyoung, Vernon, Minghao, Jeonghan

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm

[monzabee]

two sides of the same coin - mv1

masterlist

Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 

Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

2018 

“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”

“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”

You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 

“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 

“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 

He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 

“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 

You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 

“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 

“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 

“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”

“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 

He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”

“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”

“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”

You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 

“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”

“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 

“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 

Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 

2019

It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 

So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 

Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 

You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 

2020

Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 

It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 

“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 

“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 

You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 

“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”

“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 

And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 

“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 

“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 

2021 

Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 

Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 

There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 

An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”

You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 

You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 

“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 

“Maybe I should.” 

“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 

His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”

“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 

“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 

“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”

“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 

“Female intuition.” 

He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 

He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.

2022

Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.

You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 

The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 

“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 

Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”

There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 

You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 

“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 

You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 

“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 

You nod your head, “Yes.” 

He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 

2023

“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.” 

“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”

“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 

You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 

“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 

“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 

“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 

“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 

“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”

[kingsoowolves]

birthday boy | hsh

pairing: idol boyfriend!seunghan x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

author's note: idk if any of you know it, but Seunghan is actually my first bias in riize. since his hiatus, i miss him so much and each day that passes without his presence in the group, i want him to come back even more. i know there's a bunch of ot6 briizes and i honestly don't really care who everyone chooses to stan. we're all different and have different tastes and likings, i get it. but i'm still holding out hope for him to comeback and that feeling won't die down untill i see his beautiful smile while he's on a stage along with his members again. this work is to showcase my love for him, nothing else. and also for all the ot7 briizes and hongjjangus that miss him just as much as me. i hope you like it, babes 🐈‍⬛🫧🧡

contents: established relationship, aged up!seunghan. mentions of riize members. set in the future, on seunghan's 25th birthday. he is active in the group and riize has been in the scene for a few years. smut and fluff. seunghan wants to have his cake and eat it too, lol. fingering, sex in the shower. sex without protection, cumming inside (don't be like them).

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you’d like

Seunghan is needy and dramatic towards you on a daily basis. But on his birthday, it always gets worse.

He ends every request with a “Please? It’s my birthday”, pulls you to sit on his lap every chance he gets and asks for smooches and attention each half an hour that passes by. It’s adorable and charming, and you always find yourself a willing victim to his whims, kissing and hugging him whenever he desires.

However, in times like this, when you’re rushing to get everything done for the small dinner party you’re hosting for his 25th birthday, it does annoy you a little bit. You’re already preoccupied about failing this day for him because the cake wasn’t yet delivered by the bakery and you only remembered to put the wine inside the freezer twenty minutes ago. At least, there’s still forty minutes left until the time you set for his members to show up and you hope that the wine is cold by then and the cake is inside your fridge.

You’re thinking about all of this while you’re finishing setting the fancy cutlery on the table. Seunghan should be checking on the lasagna inside the oven, but instead he catches you midway through your task, rubbing his chest on your back and his hands on your hips as he starts to place kisses on the side of your neck.

“Babe, the lasagna,” you warn.

“I just checked it. It’s still cooking,” he whispers over the wetness his spit gathered on your skin, making you shiver. He runs his nose from the side of your throat to your ear. “You smell so freaking good.”

“No, I don’t,” you say, closing your eyes, letting your body sag a little against his and reaching a hand back to his neck, keeping his face still on your neck while he resumes peppering kisses on your skin. “I still haven’t showered.”

“You always smell good for me, baby,” he says before nipping your earlobe. You can’t help but sigh from the attention he’s giving you. “And I can help you shower.”

His obvious naughty intentions make you open your eyes and spin around, your hands going to his chest to push him slightly away from you.

“No way,” you shake your head. “I know you’ll be distracting me and not helping at all. Plus, you’re already ready and someone needs to answer the delivery truck when they bring the cake.”

Seunghan gives you his best puppy look and steps closer to you again, his hands going around you to encircle your waist. “Baby, please,” he whines. “We spent the whole day organizing this place. I haven’t been able to fuck you yet and it’s my birthday.”

You chuckle and look up at him, resting your chin on his chest and squeezing his cheeks. “Well, you should’ve thought about that before hosting a dinner party at our place, birthday boy.”

He whines again, pressing his forehead on yours whilst his agile fingers start bunching up the skirt of your old saggy dress, one hand pressing on the underside of your left thigh as if he’s preparing to lift you over the table. “I could just slide right in like this. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“No, Seunghan,” you say, voice firm and serious. He gives you a defeated look and steps back, his hands dropping to his sides. “I’m sorry, baby. But we’re already late as it is. We can do all the shenanigans you want later, okay?”

You get on your tiptoes and press your hands on his shoulders to drop a quick peck to his lips, but Seunghan holds you there, his fingers closing on the back of your neck to turn the kiss into a heated one. You wrap your hands around his neck to give him a little taste of what he’s been craving, letting him kiss you the way he wants, his tongue licking up every crevice of your mouth. When he pulls back, you have to blink your eyes open to wake up your hazy mind.

“Okay,” he whispers, a sly smile playing on the corner of his lips as he watches the reaction only one really good kiss pulled out of you. “Go get ready.”

You gulp and nod your head. “Finish setting the table up for me, please? And don’t forget about the lasagna, too. Oh, and–”

“And the cake should be delivered any minute,” he completes for you. “I know, baby, I know. Now go get yourself prettier for my day.”

You nod again, giving him one last peck on his lips and finally turning around. Seunghan takes the moment to pat your butt lightly and you laugh back at him while you walk to your bedroom. After getting to the en suite bathroom, you turn the water to the temperature you like and hastily slip out of your clothes. You sigh when you step into the shower and the warm water hits your head and shoulders, massaging the knots on the back of your neck.

After you shampoo your hair and begin to cover yourself in soap, you hear the door to the bathroom open up and spin around to see Seunghan a few meters away from the glass enclosure separating you both, his fingers quickly removing his denim jacket and tugging his black t-shirt up.

“Seunghan, no!” You exclaim, watching him slide the shirt out of his body and dropping it on the floor along with your clothes. “I told you, I–”

“Babe, I already turned off the oven and put the lasagna to rest on the counter. I also texted the guys saying they should come an hour later,” he explains, moving his hands to his belt buckle to unfasten it and then zipping down the fly on his pants. “Wonbin hyung agreed to pick up the cake. Already let the bakery know it, too.”

You open your mouth at him in shock and your pink sponge falls from your hand onto the shower tiles. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.” Seunghan laughs at you and resumes taking his jeans off, his briefs going sliding down his legs along with it. He steps out of the fabric and his semi-hard cock springs free, the head of it slapping along his thigh. You bite your bottom lip whilst he slides the shower door open just enough for you to see him in all his glory, perfect body exposed bare right in front of your eyes. “So what it’s gonna be, baby? Are we going to fuck or do you prefer to keep pretending you don’t want this as much as I do?”

“Come in,” you say through gritted teeth and he laughs again, stepping inside and sliding the glass door back on its place. You wind your arms around his shoulders and press yourself against him. “You’re a pain in my ass, Hong Seunghan. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, and you love me,” he mutters while he holds you, splaying both of his hands on your ass.

“Unfortunately, I do,” you whisper back, pulling him in for a kiss.

Seunghan’s lips have always been addictive to you. You love how full and beautiful they are, how his smiles come easily when he quirks the sides of them up just a bit and especially how soft and moist they become while he’s kissing you. You always get lost in the feeling, biting on his bottom lip and drawing pretty sounds out of him. You’re so lost in him at this moment that you don’t even notice how his hands snake down your body, gripping on your flesh until his fingers find the place in between your legs.

He spreads you open with his fingers and you moan, your lips disconnecting with his. He laughs darkly as his forefinger rubs on your clit and you hold onto his shoulders for stability.

“You tried to deny me like that but yet you get this wet from just a few kisses?” He says while he watches your face contorting in pleasure.

“I was trying to be responsible,” you reply, trying to keep your moaning to a minimum while it’s still so early in the game. “Instead of you, who only thinks with your dick.”

Seunghan smiles, fingers massaging over your hole and trying to coax louder moans out of you. “That’s just your effect on me, sweetheart. I can’t help it.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a horndo–” You get cut off because of course Seunghan chooses that exact moment to insert two of his fingers inside of you, making the words on your lips turn into a groan and your head loll back.

“What were you saying, baby?” He asks slyly over your exposed neck, pumping his fingers in and out of you with precision. How can he be so fucking good at this?

You gulp down the saliva that collects in your throat and scrunch your eyes while you bask in the feeling of him pleasuring you. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies with a smile, moving you to press your back against the bathroom wall and reaching down to wrap a hand around one of your thighs, hooking it up around his waist. You press the arch of your foot on his ass to pull him closer to you and soon enough his dick is pressed in between your bodies and he’s rutting on your lower belly. “That’s it, such a good girl for me.”

You move your hand down to cover his pretty cock, pumping him in your fist the best you can while Seunghan distracts you by scissoring his fingers inside your cunt. You try to look down to see what you’re doing, but Seunghan’s head eclipses your visions when he starts dropping kisses on the valley of your breasts. His lips move to one of your perk nipples and you moan out loud when he sucks it into his mouth, flicking the bud with his tongue. Your pace falters on his length and he pulls your hand away from it to intertwine your fingers together, resting them on the coldness of the bathroom tiles beside your head.

“Hani, it’s your birthday,” you say, and he looks up at you with your boob still inside his mouth. “I should be the one pleasuring you.”

He releases your nipple with a pop, then sinks his teeth on the flesh of your other breast. “But you are pleasuring me, baby. Doing whatever I want with you is all I need.”

You sigh when he licks over your neglected nipple, his tongue tracing around the areola over and over again until he gets tired of it and suctions on that one, too. He keeps the unrelenting pace of his fingers inside of you and moves his thumb up your clit again to rub on it.

“But I want to do more for you,” you whisper, starting to thrust your hips up against his hand. Your head already feels dizzy and your vision starts to get hazy with how much he’s overwhelming your senses. You feel that any moment now you might snap.

Seunghan releases his nipple from your mouth t at the same moment the revolutions down your clit get faster, and you can’t stop your moans from echoing around the restroom anymore while he kisses his way up to your lips again.

“Then you can suck me off after dinner, okay?” He mutters, his natural foxy eyes glinting at you and his mouth drinking up your sounds. “You’re close, right?”

“So close, Hani,” you cry out, gripping his hand tightly on yours and tugging on his hair with your other one.

He smiles at you and presses his lips to yours two times. Then, he mutters, “Cum for me now, pretty girl.”

It’s ridiculous that that’s all it takes to get you there. But either way, your orgasm washes over you, the tingling forming in your belly spreading through your limbs and head while your walls convulse around Seunghan’s fingers. He still keeps his work in your pussy while you scream and drop your lips to bite on his neck to give you something to do.

“That’s it, my love. You look so pretty when you fall apart. I want to watch this for the rest of my life,” he whispers in your ear while you sink your teeth on his flesh.

Once there’s no energy left in your body and you’re babbling incoherently on his skin, he slides his hand up to lift your chin and press your head back on the wall. His fingers wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth and you smell your juices on them, your tongue instinctively darting out to lick at them.

“Shit, baby, you got me so hard already,” he heaves while you suck his digits into your mouth, limp hand searching for his cock again. “There’s no need for that.”

You only release his fingers from your mouth after pressing little kisses on the tips of each one, then you smile at him and wrap your hand around his dick, slapping it against your folds to share your wetness and his precum with each other. “You’re going to fuck me now, birthday boy?”

“Are you up for it already?” He asks, trying to convey worry through his little groans and expletives. “I don’t wanna do too much too soon.”

“I don’t care, you can overstimulate me all you want,” you reply back, hitting his dick on your clit to show him that you’re serious. “I just need your dick inside me, Hani.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans at both your words and how you guide his dick to your entrance, your cunt sucking his fat head inside. “I’ll fuck you dumb, baby.”

“Be my guest,” you moan back, feeling him slide all the way in one go and bottoming out, your walls stretching to accommodate his heavy girth inside.

Seunghan slides out and inside of you slowly only three times. Then he sets a merciless rhythm, hitting you with smooth, fast and hard thrusts. You wrap your other leg around him and he holds you up with his strong legs and arms, hands grasping your back and ass cheeks. You tug on his hair, kiss his cheeks, nip on his lips and suck on his neck and chest while he keeps fucking you through it all. The wet sounds of his dick fleetly moving in and out of your cunt and your skin slapping together bounce around the walls, becoming the back tracking for the harmony of moans you voice out together.

He doesn’t falter for a minute, not even when you reach down to squeeze his balls. Instead of easing down his flow, he spreads one of your legs apart, securing it to the wall behind you while he scrunches his nose and gazes down to watch how your cunt clutches to his cock every time he pulls back and your hand fondles his testicles.

Seunghan is giving you his everything. Hoisting you up, holding you together, pining you to the wall and fucking you deliciously. Ruining you. His arms bulge and his legs flex while he does it and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. The water still falling from the shower hits his shoulder blades and splash warm droplets on your skins and the shower doors, like it’s painting freckles on the scene, covering you both in the marks of your lovemaking.

You think he never looked as beautiful as he does right now.

“Seunghan,” you call for him and he looks at you with lust and love swimming inside his eyes. You run a hand over the fringe that falls on his forehead, slicking it back and then rubbing your fingers on his cheek bone. Handsome as hell. You can’t quite believe this man is all yours. “I’m close. I want you to cum inside, okay?”

He nods fervently and presses kisses on your hand that’s still on his face. “Yeah, baby, you got it,” he says, his voice faltering slightly.

Just then he slows down the drive of his hips, moving his legs and balancing himself again in between your thighs until he finds the new angle he’s searching for. Your breath hitches when it seems like he slides even deeper inside your pussy. The head of his cock starts to hit that amazing spongy spot inside you and he smiles victoriously when you’re reduced to a blubbering mess. When his thumb rubs on your clit, joining his dick in his effort to make you mad, you’re done for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut. Your legs tremble and you try to hold it together, but your peak is coming at you faster and faster. “Baby, I think I’m gonna– I’m cum–”

You’re interrupted by Seunghan’s lips crashing on yours and his tongue being shoved inside your mouth. Your orgasm rips through your body like an out-of-control train flying off its tracks. It’s brisk and powerful, leaving your heart racing and your breath short, your mouth hanging open while you moan your boyfriend’s name until your voice feels raw.

“That’s it, baby. That’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock,” Seunghan says, his eyes locking on yours when your jaw clenches. “I’m right behind you, baby. Going to give you my cum now.”

“I want it, Hani, please do it,” you request with a hoarse voice, fighting your words out through the soreness in your throat.

“Oh, shit,” he groans, his hips jerking and stuttering, his cock swelling up and twitching inside you. “Yeah, fucking take it, baby.”

He spills inside your cunt and you moan deeply one more time before he slumps against you, his forehead pressing on your shoulder while your pussy milks him dry. He’s still holding you up, but the hand that was pining your thigh to the wall is now limp, and you move your leg back to wrap around him, tightening your hold of him to keep him inside you as long as possible.

Seunghan moans some more in your ear and you press reassuring kisses on the moles over his shoulders while you both calm down and catch your breaths. When you feel his gasps mellowing out, you press your fingers on his nape and pull his head back to look into his eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper and he gives you the sweetest smile ever, the lines around his eyes cracking and his whisker dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Happy birthday, Hani.”

He hums happily and rests his forehead on yours, dropping five consecutive pecks on your mouth. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, pressing your lips on his to give him a full kiss. He responds eagerly, tongue stroking yours and hands sliding to the back of your thighs to kee you up.

You feel his dick stirring inside you again when he pulls back and says, “You think we can go for round two before the guys show up?”

You laugh incredulously at him and unwrap your legs from his body, pushing on his shoulders until he pulls out of you. He whimpers pathetically at the loss of contact and you lift a finger to shut him up.

“Don’t you start, Hong Seunghan,” you admonish him.

He just pouts and catches your finger with his hand, puts it inside of his mouth and starts to suck on it, looking at you wickedly as he does so, all that while his cum starts to seep out of you. Your breath hitches at the scene and because his remnants now sticking to your thighs. But you keep your cool, withdrawing your finger from between his lips until it’s out with a pop. You give his chest a slap and then turn, moving to stand under the shower head to clean yourself.

However, before you can get the soap on your body, his arms are around you again and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear. “I’ll be quick, baby. Please, it’s my birthday.”

You roll your eyes at him. He’s insatiable. And he’s definitely going to be late for his own birthday party.

happy birthday, hani, i love you! If you liked this work, consider sharing your thoughts with me on the comments or my ask box. thanks for reading! 🧡

[fairyysoup]

the devil i know

chapter seven: fill my mind with dirtiness, i'll invade your dreams

(repost)

fic tag | fic playlist | fic masterlist

pairing(s): crossroads demon!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: Eddie teaches you a thing or two about possession.

cw: explicit, smut, monsterfucking, fem masturbation, demonic possession, actually really fluffy if you can believe it, mind control, telepathy, making a deal with a demon, inspired by american and european folklore, sacrilegious themes, horror, witch!reader, reader is 21+ in modern day, eddie is immortal, sex pact, marking, possessive behavior, animal death, trauma, reader is ostracized by her very religious hometown, dark comedy, dead dove: do not eat

please check masterlist and individual parts for content warnings before reading. this fic contains dark themes. your media consumption is your own responsibility.

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your eyelids press against the throw blanket you’ve pulled across them as a makeshift blindfold. Not that there’s much light in the room to begin with, but if you don’t have something holding them shut they just pop right open and stare at nothing.

You’re tired. Bone tired, but you can’t manage to shut your mind off. There’s a certain electricity in your limbs that keeps you jolting at the slightest sounds, your nerves like livewires, sparking at everything and nothing. Out in your living room, a new dog sleeps on your rug. Somewhere across town, your ex-boyfriend sleeps in the ICU.

You can’t sleep.

You huff and flop over, ripping the throw blanket off of your head. You don’t know if it’s just some sort of infernal caffeine that Eddie pumped into your body, but you can’t stop thinking of the blazing car, the heat of the fire scorching Andy and throwing him across the asphalt. You think back on it, and the feeling of release when the car went up in flames, like a weight lifted off of your shoulders after so long. Your blinding hatred of Andy and a sense of possession over the mark given to you by the fiery eyed demon who kissed your tears away.

Eddie did say that he’d corrupt you. ‘Break you,’ were his words. ‘You wouldn’t be the first good girl that I’ve broken.’ But, you don’t honestly know that he has. You went out into the woods to make that deal with him first. You sent him your petition first– what were you really hoping for? A rock to fall out of the sky and crush Andy in the middle of an intersection? 

A car fire is just as effective.

Flashes of Eddie come to you. The scent of smoke in the air, strong and getting stronger the closer he gets to you. The timbre of his voice in your ear, calling you a good girl, even though you feel like anything but. It’s not… what you’re used to. You’re not used to being praised for anything. Not even being able to take the blows that you’re dealt. Usually you just get insults to go with the pain.

Your hand drifts low on your stomach, feeling a burn between your legs that wasn’t there five minutes ago. You don’t know what it is that has you feeling more high strung than normal– needier than normal. Just the mere thought of Eddie has your thighs pressing together and your core tensing like you’ll never get any relief. You palm your own crotch, tugging on the fabric like some frat guy trying to readjust his junk in front of god and everybody.

Now that you’ve gotten a taste of him– or, rather, he’s gotten a taste of you– it’s like your impulse control is nearly as void as his. Who gives a fuck? You’ve already given him your soul, signed it over to Hell for a bit of happiness. He’s done away with most of the demons of your past and given you what you want. 

What you want right now is him. Eddie. His body, his tongue, his voice in your ear, his touch on your skin. It’s becoming an addiction now that you’ve let him in.

But, he’s… busy, you guess. He said he had some kind of business to take care of when he left you earlier. But there can’t be a special place in Hell for someone masturbating to the thought of their own personal demon, right?

A resigned sigh escapes you as you shove your hand down the front of your pajama pants. There’s no foreplay when you do this, no drawing out the process. Usually, you just try to get the job done quickly.

You dip a finger between the folds of your pussy to feel them drenched, far worse than you figured they would be when you’ve only been thinking about him for– what– two minutes? Ten? Doesn’t matter. You caress the sensitive skin, trying not to overthink why you’re so wet, why your finger practically drips when you spread your arousal over your clit. 

You close your eyes against whatever light is in the room. You move your finger faster, a quick back and forth that just makes you sigh and readjust your hips on the mattress, searching for the right feeling. 

Your mind delivers you an image of shining eyes beneath a curtain of dark, wavy hair. Ring-clad fingers drawing a lock of hair across plush lips in a mimicry of shyness. His warmth pressed against your back. His lips sucking the blood from your arm, healing the small wound on your skin. His tongue between your legs, forked and fucking into your cunt slowly, deeply.

“Motherfucker–” It just doesn’t feel quite right. Your finger feels too small, your own touch practically numb on your clit, even when the skin is so sensitive that it should be doing something. You pull and pluck at the skin, but your fingers feel jerky and uncomfortable, when usually it all feels just fine. 

And everything feels hot. Why is it so fucking hot? Not just your cunt, or the tension in your core that’s screaming for you to just do something, but it feels like you’re breaking a fever. You’re doused in sweat, your skin is radiating more heat than you know what to do with. 

Oh, that’s cute. 

A gasp tears from your throat. You sit up like a shot, your hands scrambling for your bedside lamp. The light flickers on, and… nothing. 

His voice sounded so close. So present in your ears, like he was right next to you. For some reason, you’re disappointed that he isn’t actually there. 

Shivering and sweating and holding your head in your hands, you shake your head with your eyes squeezed shut. “...Eddie?”

You need to relax, you’re working yourself up.

You don’t know why it’s only hitting you now, how fucking odd it is that he’s talking to you. Or, airdropping messages directly into your head. The last time he did, you’d been a little too preoccupied with what was happening in the external world to really focus on the why and how. 

“Where are you?”

I’m inside you.

His voice rumbles through your head, low and smoky like rolling magma in the pit of a volcano. It’s not audible– not to anyone else. It’s not something you’re hearing, it’s something you’re simply sensing. It makes your mind spin and all your muscles below your waist draw up tight and hard.

Do you want me to be inside you?

Oh, it’s not fair. Not fair. The way his voice dips, dripping like melted gold down your spine, making your entire body contract and release like it’s going to have a fucking fit. You don’t know if you’ll be able to stop it, if it does. You don’t seem to be in control of it anymore. 

“Y-you–” you hiccup, trying to retain your calm and finding nothing to cling to. “You know the fucking answer to that.” Knees drawn up to your chest, you hunch over them with your elbows by your ankles, curled into a ball. 

Lay down, sweetheart.

You can feel tears coming– hot, angry, frustrated tears because he’s not here and you feel like your body is screaming for him every time his stupid, pretty voice invades your mind. “Not– not like this–”

Lay. Down.

A hand forces your shoulder back and presses you firmly into the mattress, your head hitting the pillow and your breath leaving your lungs. Your own comes up to swing around wildly in the air, trying to grab for the arm that’s holding you down. There’s nothing. Just empty air.

“God damn it– Why aren’t you here?” You try to sit up again, but some invisible force is still holding you down by the shoulders. Your heart is pounding in your chest, so hard you can hear it in your ears. “I don’t– I don’t know why I feel like this–”

This is normal, your body is just reacting to my presence. The first time is always the worst, baby, it’ll get easier. You’ve just never been possessed before. 

His voice is so soft, so tender that it makes your welling tears spill over painfully. They run down your temples and into your hair while you kick your legs to try and wiggle out of his hold.

“But I– I want to feel you,” you blubber, rigid on the bed with the invisible weight pressing you into it. “I want you now.”

Then, you hear it. Barely audible but still there– a huff of air. A chuckle. A laugh. The sound sends a chill down your spine, the heat of embarrassment warming your cheeks. 

You were so concerned about the full moon rite when we signed the deal– where’d that go?  

“It’s– I–” You sigh, quite literally kicking your feet in agitation. You heel. You’re crying uncle, you can’t take whatever the hell is burning in your veins. “You had your tongue in my pussy, like, five hours ago. Can’t we just fuck? Right now? First time, now?”

He takes longer to answer this time. We could.

Your heart leaps. “Oh, thank Chr–”

But where’s the fun in that?

You stop squirming, and glare directly upwards, at the ceiling. You don’t know why you’re imagining him on top of you, picturing his head being right above yours– he says he’s possessing you, he’s inside your body. 

Just not in the way you fucking want him to be. Dick.  

“You asshole,” you growl. You can barely think straight with all the desire flowing through you, it’s mashing lust and anger together to create some lethal combination. Lethal to whom, you aren’t sure. “You fucking– you want me to die? Is that it? Want me to just fucking die right here on this bed and you’ll never get your full moon rite–?”

You’re not gonna die. Stop being dramatic. 

“I’m not– I’m not being dramatic–”

Dramatics don’t work with me. I invented drama. 

You pause at that. It occurs to you that you don’t… actually know how old Eddie is. “Oh, shit. Did you? Like, for real?”

No, of course not fucking for real. I’m being dramatic.

You try to stay mad. You really do. But a smirk breaks your facade, and then a giggle. And then you’re laughing, and the invisible hand on your shoulder releases you so that you can roll over in your hysterics, curling into a ball on your side while laughter shakes your body.

It’s so fucking stupid. It’s ridiculous. All of this– the inhuman lust consuming you, some physiological effect of his presence in your body. The fear and the arousal and his disembodied voice rattling around in your skull, dragging you toward Hell with him. And he’s fucking funny. Your lord of darkness, or whatever, is a goofball and a fucking tease, and you wonder for a second if you made him up. If you’ve constructed him in your mind, if you’re having a nervous breakdown. 

Sweetheart… There’s a sing-songy tone to Eddie’s voice now, and you feel a pair of fingers walking up and over the curve of your hip. Your muscles jump at the contact, then catch fire when a hand flattens out and slides along the curve of your stomach. It gently pulls you back to center, laying on your back on the mattress, your legs splayed out and arms up by your head.

“You’re a fucking dork,” you murmur, and every ounce of affection you feel for him comes out syrupy sweet in the words.

You’re still biting your lip to quiet your giggles, your eyes searching the room for what you know isn’t there. Dust settles on your dresser. Plaster peels from the ceiling and the walls of your rotten old apartment, the landlord special sitting in cakes on the windowsill and over the handle of your bedroom door. But there’s no Eddie. 

Mm, but what’s worse? The dork, or the one who’s… just so fucking turned on by it…

Pressure cups your crotch, making your breath hitch abnormally in your chest. A hand rolls against the damp fabric between your legs, but when you look down all you see are your own hips bucking up into nothing. 

Fuck, you’re just dripping for it, aren’t you?

A pathetic whine leaves your mouth. With your eyes closed you can roll your hips up against that feeling, and you can pretend he’s there next to you. The invisible hand presses two thick fingers into the seam of your pussy, drawing out all the agony and pleasure with it. Your mouth drops open, a moan caught in your throat when your clit is caught in the mix, dragging slowly against the hard press of those fingers.

This is what your body was wanting. His touch– even if it’s not a physical body, it needs Eddie to soothe the ache. This feels like relief, like comfort, like warmth. Everything feels warm with Eddie. His hands caress you, just the slightest up and down that has you keening.

And then they disappear. Vanish. No easy withdrawal, no warning. 

Your face screws up in frustration, your hands clutching the pillow on either side of your head. You feel like screaming. “Eddie, why– what’re you doing–”

Don’t whine. 

Your hands and arms suddenly feel cold, then hot– and then, you can’t control them at all. They move on their own, completely separate from your mind or will. Your fingers twitch, and then your wrists flex, like they’re getting acclimated just to the feeling of being alive.

And then slowly, much too slowly, your own hands move to your neck. Then, down over your chest. They fondle your breasts through your shirt, making you whimper even though you’re just so fucking confused. 

Let’s have our first lesson in Possession 101, shall we?

“Is this what you did at the diner?” you whisper shakily, while Eddie– your hands– Eddie squeezes your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers through the fabric.

No. 

“You talked to me, then.” 

I talk to you when you call me to. I don’t have to possess you to do it.

Your brain fizzles out, reboots, starts again. “Did I–” a breath– “Did I call you? Just now?”

Baby, you were screaming for me.

Eddie feels his way down the curve of your stomach, inching toward your pajama pants. It’s more sensual, more languorous and indulgent of a touch than you’d given yourself in your haste. The need in your body is endless– it stretches on infinitely, and you feel yourself sinking lower and lower, fueled by the unnatural push of your own hands, controlled by some other force outside your realm of understanding.

Good thing, too. You need to be shown how to fuck yourself properly.

“Eddie– don’t tease,” you chide, but there’s nothing real in it. It’s a pathetic whine, a little submissive noise in your throat that really means, Jesus Christ, I don’t know where to put all this lust.

Your hands wriggle beneath your pants, down past your underwear. Then your fingers dip low and part the slick, swollen lips of your cunt. You gasp at just the same time as the demon in your head hums. It’s a deep, resonating sound that slithers around in your skull, swirling and echoing like a call into the cavern of your mind.

Ohhhh, that’s fucking beautiful. His voice in your head is hushed, as if he wants to make sure no one hears his words but you. Your pussy is somehow wetter now that he’s here. You choke on a breath when your finger drags up and over your clit, the most delicate and inquisitive of a touch, but it makes sparks dance along your skin. How long has it been since you touched yourself like this?

“I don’t–” You moan suddenly when your two fingers dip into your entrance, teasing before drawing back over your clit in soft, circular strokes. Your breath rattles in your chest. “I don’t do it like this.”

That’s a travesty. 

A high whimper scratches out of your throat at that. It is a fucking travesty. You never take your time and it never feels like this. It never feels like your body is on fire and your cunt is gushing, just begging for some sort of attention to soothe its crying. 

Two fingers slip down and drive into you to the knuckle. You gasp and squirm, trying to move them, trying to do anything to stave off the ache for a faster pace. The impatience to do it fast and tight like you’re used to takes over, bucking your hips forward, urging your own hands. 

Stop fighting me, baby. It won’t work. 

He slows down, If that’s even possible. He makes your two fingers practically still, deep in your cunt, your palm flush against your throbbing clit. 

The little bit of stimulation you get from the intrusion doesn’t do as much as his voice in your head does, though. It’s as if his mere being possessing you is enough to feed the starving, rabid animal of your body.

He swirls your fingers in a way that makes you keen, tilting your head back against the pillow. Are you paying attention, little witch?

You sob, nodding your head rapidly. You’re flustered, thinking about him watching you, feeling you do this. Your fingers aren’t long enough, or thick enough, to make it feel right. It feels better than it did, but only barely. “I– I liked your fingers m–more–”

I know. Because your body belongs to me, now. Isn’t it fun, being my whore?

You gasp when he pulls your fingers out and back up to your clit, more gentle than you’ve ever tried being to yourself.

He thinks this is fun. You’re suddenly reminded that he’s a demon– historically not a creature known for being nice. Mythologically, a creature that delights in torture. 

He’s torturing you. He’s teasing you and refusing to give you what you want, refusing to fuck you, because this is fun for him. You picture chains and whips, bondage and the like, but you think it’s more than that. It's a mind game.

It’s him being able to control you. It’s you giving yourself over to him entirely.

You like it. 

I can hear your thoughts, sweetheart. Stop overanalyzing it. Stop thinking . 

“Holy shit– ” you rock your hips up when he curls your fingers, slow and hard, dragging them in and out of your cunt. The wet sound that it makes is obscene, even through the layers of fabric barring it from the open air. 

Just imagine, you get to have me all you want. I’ll fuck you open and breed this tight little pussy like you want me to so damn much. Have you leaking my cum, just a messy hole for me to fill, over and over.

You moan, loudly. The image does flash through your mind– but, of course it does. He just said that he can hear your thoughts like this, didn’t he? He knows what to say to make you lose your mind, your frustration giving way to bliss. 

Every day, for the rest of your life and beyond it, however you want it. But for now, you get to have this. 

Your pussy clenches down, squeezing your two fingers. The muscles of your stomach tighten and release, and everything, everything sears. Panting, you stutter out, “I’m– shit– Eddie, I’m gonna cu–”

Cum.

You cry out sharply, falling apart around your fingers. 

This is when you would stop. This is when you’d pull your hand away and say good enough, and let your body settle down. But Eddie continues, pushing your fingers through your spasming walls, grinding your palm against your throbbing clit until your thighs shake and your hips jump. 

It takes a fucking while before he lets up.

Easing out of you, he slides your soaked fingers up and over your clit for good measure, before lifting your hand and shoving them into your open mouth. Your moan chokes out as you close your lips around them. 

There you go. That’s how you finger yourself. I don’t wanna see whatever that other shit was again. 

“Mm… uh huh. Okay. On it, boss.”

You’re a little embarrassed that you came so quickly when he was the one controlling you. You aren’t holding out much hope that you can do the same thing to yourself, on your own. But you’ll make him the hollow promise, in the meantime.

Maybe… maybe you’ll regret this, sometime. Maybe you’ll wake up one day and discover that this has all been some great big mistake, and Eddie is not what he seems. You still don’t know anything about him. You don’t know who he is, or was. You don’t know anything beyond the bond that you share now, and the power that courses through your veins.

For now, you think, it’s enough.

You find yourself nodding as you regain control of your hands. You’re drenched in sweat, panting quietly and letting your body sink into the mattress beneath you. 

You hear him chuckle while you swallow back the dryness in your throat.

C’mon. You need some water, sweet thing.

Two invisible hands wrap around your ankles and yank your limp body out of bed, while you screech and claw helplessly at the sheets. Eddie giggles maniacally within your head when one of them smacks your ass, and your legs force you toward your bedroom door.

“Sweetheart?”

Everything glows pink. The morning sun in your windows makes things rosy, turning slowly to gold and tangerine. You groan and shift sideways, your eyes fluttering open, expecting an empty room. Expecting that Eddie is speaking to you telepathically, in that way he does. That maybe he’s still possessing you.

He isn’t. You blink up at him as he stands over you, long hair dangling in his face and flushed cheeks indented with dimples, looking half-godly like a statue of a fallen angel. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is. He strokes a delicate finger down the side of your face, rousing you gently with a look in his eye that you might mistake as lovestruck, if you didn’t know any better. His eyes are golden.

“Hi, pretty baby,” Eddie murmurs, as you tiredly work the sleep out of your eyes. You feel yourself making little indignant mrrrps, like a cat who wasn’t ready to be woken from a nap. Eddie chuckles, and the sound dances around the room like the twinkling of a bell. “I have something to show you.”

“Can it wait?”

“No.” His voice is soft, but holds enough command in it that you grumpily drag yourself out of the warmth and comfort of your bed. Half-asleep at the ass crack of dawn, like you’re still living with your parents and have to go to school, or something.

Even with your eyes half shut, you can follow him perfectly fine just from scent alone. His smoke and emanating warmth act like a beacon as you stumble over your own feet. He giggles at the sight of you, dragging a soothing hand down your upper arm to guide you into your kitchen. 

“All right, sweet thing,” Eddie purrs, pulling you into his arms to face away from him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking over it while you simply let your head fall against his, being lulled back to sleep by his warm embrace. “What do you see?”

“Mmmph.”  

“Okay, well, you have to open your eyes to see it. C’mon.” He pets a soft hand back and forth over your hip. “Let me see those beautiful eyes. You can do it.”

You’re fairly certain your eyes are puffy and crusty and gross. But you do what he says, cracking them open. “I see the counter you tongue-fucked me on yesterday.”

Eddie stops. You feel him turn his head, blinking at you like you’ve completely derailed him. After a long pause, he says, “Interesting how selective your attention to detail is.”

“There’s a bigass bunch of flowers on it.” 

It’s the truth; it’s like he uprooted an entire garden and dumped it on your kitchen counter. You aren’t sure what he means for you to do with all of them– geranium, daffodil, chrysanthemum, daisy. They’re heaped on the granite unceremoniously, looking simultaneously beautiful and decrepit. Over the smell of Eddie’s smoke, you get the earthy and floral notes of a freshly weed whacked flower bed. 

“Where the fuck did you get–”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says quickly, interrupting you. If you were more awake, you might have taken exception, but in your half-asleep haze you’re just happy to let him talk. “Do you like ‘em?”

“Yeah, honey, they’re… they’re real pretty.” You’re sure they were pretty when they were still in whatever garden he obviously stole them from. There’s a dirt clod in your sink. 

“Cool, cool… awesome. Fantastic. So I suppose that means you want to put them in a vase, right?”

What kind of household does he think this is? You don’t have the budget for fancy shit like decorative bowls. The closest you’re getting to a bouquet vase is the crockpot in your pantry. “I don’t– I don’t have a vase–” 

“Au contraire– I happen to be a purveyor of delicate glassworks.” Eddie reaches around you to set something on the counter in front of you. 

It’s a water glass with little lemons painted on it. You bought it at the family dollar last spring. 

“Babe, I dunno if you noticed, but that’s not a vase.”

“So make it one.”

“What?” You’re too tired for this. “Eddie–”

“Humor me, baby,” he whispers. He presses one big hand over your stomach, just beneath your ribcage. “You’ve got the magic to do it. Feel it, in here.”

It’s really hard to feel anything besides his touch, searing you through your baggy t-shirt. Eddie’s fingertips stroke back and forth, apparently trying to get you to focus on… something, but not accomplishing anything other than turning you on. Some instinct you have forces you to press your hips back against his, grinding your ass against his crotch in a sleep-induced urge to have him as close as you can. You make a little sound in the back of your throat that indicates what exactly it is that you’re feeling. 

Eddie hums quietly, a note of amusement in his voice. “Wrong feeling, sweetheart.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to be feeling–”

“I know, I know. You want to fuck me so bad it’s making you dumb. It’s cute, really.” He snickers when you give him a petulant huff, and his teeth wrap around your earlobe to tug playfully. “All in good time. But right now, you need to feel what you want. You want a vase.”

“I don’t want a–”

“You want the vase,” he repeats insistently, tapping your tummy twice. Hot fingertips pressing in, metal rings catching on the fabric over your skin.

You squirm. “Fine. Eddie says I want the vase.” Give me the vase so the goddamn guy will let me go back to sleep for the love of shit—

And then, you do feel it. Some burning in your gut, right beneath the press of Eddie’s hand. A buildup of pressure that isn’t necessarily pleasurable, but nor is it painful. It just builds and builds until you feel full, fit to burst. It lurches in your throat, speeds up your heart, makes you moan at the vastness of it.

“That’s good,” Eddie encourages quietly in your ear, “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Keep going.” 

The warmth of Eddie’s hand on you grows, until you feel as if your cotton t-shirt shouldn’t handle it. It should be burning up into shreds of singed fabric and char, but it just remains as an irritating barrier between his skin and yours. You feel the magic coursing through him and into you, creating some kind of tether that binds you and allows the power to travel between your beings. One with each other. 

And when you fear that it’s too much, that you might explode from the intensity of it, it leaves you. All in one strong gust, enough to knock you back into Eddie, to make you stumble and give a fevered moan of release. 

“Good girl! Look at what you did!” Eddie bounces excitedly behind you, jostling your still sluggish body. He sounds giddy, his arms tightening around you. “I’m so proud of you, you’re a fucking natural–”

“What… in the world,” you breathe, picking your heavy head up to gaze down at where your water glass used to be. Now there’s an enormous, beautiful vase. Still not enough to fit all the flowers in, but it’s a vase that you didn’t have before.

It still has little lemons on it.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Eddie’s still whispering to you happily, a smile on his lips as he nuzzles against your neck and litters kisses all over your jaw. “You’re so goddamn cool, I swear–”

You giggle, leaning into his kisses with a tired smile. “That could have waited until I was finished sleeping, you liar.”

“Yeah, but it’s easier when you don’t think rationally about it,” Eddie coos at you, turning your head with gentle fingertips so he can lay into your lips with a kiss. “Plus, you’re just so cute and compliant when you’re sleepy.”