#it would be so cute though....................

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[ghostwhippet]

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones. 

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to. 

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour. 

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching thoroughness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together. 

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier. 

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours. 

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge. 

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely soon going to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth. 

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once. 

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?” 

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. “Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits. 

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?” 

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

[astrow1zar6]

Astrology Observations~44

Capricorn risings have A LOT of sex appeal. Their serious nature makes them look smart asf and hot. They can be pretty arrogant though.

Scorpio moons are usually really passionate about music and make the best musicians. (It’s no surprise why most famous artists have this moon sign). Example; Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus…

Venus in the 7th house synastry is the best 7th house placements to have with a partner imo. (Especially if the man is the Venus person) he will literally kiss the ground you walk on.

Neptune in the 1st house is beneficial for attractiveness and magnetism but bad in terms of stable mental health. These people usually go thru so much. This placement can be very mentally/emotionally exhausting. They thru a lot of identity crisises (Atleast you’re hot though).

Pisces suns/mercs jump to conclusions A LOT. They are either spot on or completely delusional lmao (usually it’s a good 50/50😭).

Cancer sun/risings have very round circular head shapes (like the moon).

Leo Venuses are abnormally good at drawing & art from what I’ve noticed. They also have very good fashion sense. They look very expensive in general even if they don’t come from a lot of money.

People with Taurus in the 12th house tend to use people for their money & material goods. I notice this is a big leech placement when underdeveloped. I’ve seen people grown asf with full time jobs & still expected people to pay for them. Especially if you’ve emotionally betrayed them they can guilt you into giving them things.

Pisces moons are surprisingly very hard headed at times & usually don’t learn from past mistake’s quickly. I love this placement but I notice a lot tend to make pretty poor life choices if not properly guided.

Having Saturn & Jupiter in the same house can be very odd to have. I have mine both in the 4th house and although I was raised very poor I had a lot of rich family who would take me on vacation with them and go to other countries… so even though I was poor i experienced a lot of things most poor people never experienced. We also had big family gatherings but at the same time we were all very emotionally distant from eachother and just got together to try uk. We all had a shitty relationship with each-other but we cared enough to really try and act like a functional family. Also my family started off very small when I was young (Saturn influence) (me my mom and my grandma and uncle) then got really big as I aged (Jupiter influence). I had to grow up very fast when I was young because of my financial situation(Saturn) but I was very favorable in my family so my rich family was usually very supportive in helping me and my mom (Jupiter). It’s such a push pull effect with Saturn & Jupiter in the same house (one house restricts the other expands). Lmk your guys experience with this in the comments!

Saturn in the 3rd house people had a harder time communicating with others & usually struggled in academics. Could’ve needed extra help growing up. This gives a similar vibe to having a Merc in retrograde imo.

Having a Libra rising in a composite chart can be so annoying for the people around (especially if the people around you are single) you guys will be attached at the hip & usually get along so beautifully as a couple. But this can be a big PDA placement and can give a bit of tunnel vision where u ignore everyone in the room but your partner. Also if you’re not together with this placement you could be used to people saying “you guys would look cute together!”. But 9/10 if u have this placement with a person you definitely felt some typa way about them at some point 😏

Virgo placements either talk up a storm and are very loud and vocal or they are so quiet and struggle with severe social anxiety no in between.

The most selfish childish person I ever met had a Sagittarius sun with a Leo moon. They will make everything about them ALL THE TIME.

I notice a lot of sag suns came from pretty well off families or rich families.

Taurus risings tend to be into dying their hair weird colors (like pastel pink, bright blue ect).

8th house synastry is only hot when the attraction is mutual.. but when it’s ONE SIDED it literally feels like you’re dying internally constantly. I fell in love with someone where my moon, mars, ascendant, & Jupiter was all in their 8th house… when I tell you that was the closest to hell I think I’ll get to in this life. The mind games & jealousy are so severe. You won’t even recognize yourself with this synastry, you’re more likely to do things you’d never thought you’d do and behave in ways you never thought you’d behave. It’s especially worse when you have an empty 8th house yourself, just so uncomfortable and you feel crazy 24/7. -10000/10 do not recommend 😭 make sure the attraction is mutual with this cuz it’s not for the faint of heart.

On the other hand 5th house synastry is soooo fun. This is the best house synastry imo (yes over the 7th house!). You find each-other genuinely super funny and enjoyable to be around. And the crush feels like you’re in a movie🥺🥹 it’s not overwhelming or too intense just very pleasant.

Having harsh synastry with Saturn/Venus (square, opposite) it can feel like you are meant for each-other but not in this lifetime:( they feel like the “person that got away”.

When a Scorpio Venus has a crush on you they will get jealous of anyone who tries to get close to you or has the potential to get closer to you than them. Even if it’s a family member they will treat the other person kinda poorly. I’ve seen this with the rising and mars as well but Venus is usually more severe. (This is usually if immature however).

Taurus mars never admit when they’re wrong.. even if what they say is so incorrect they will usually not listen to reason that goes against theirs. This is probably the most argumentative mars sign. Good luck getting these people to ever apologize to you.

Mars in Aries are usually naturally super toned, they really don’t have to work out much and they will be so buff istg (ESPECIALLY their arms!!!!) they gain muscle very easily.

Libra placements can be super obnoxious when they are single. They never stfu that they’re single and don’t have a partner 😩 I’ve seen this with the Venus and Mars the most. These are the types that are always sharing statuses on fb about “why am I single” “lonely for the holidays” ect. Like can somebody date them so I don’t gotta listen to this all day?😭

Don’t argue with someone with a mars in the 3rd house… you will not win.. they come with all the receipts 👀 this is lowkey a big lawyer placement. These people are not the one they will put you in check QUICKK. (Especially with an Aries, Scorpio or Taurus mars).

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[sweeturavity]

𝓑𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇. . when katsuki finally confessed his “big problem”—his baby fever that had been eating away at him for months— tiny feet and starting a family, you were surprised—but safe to say, you weren’t against it.

katsuki bakugo had a big problem. well, not big enough to cause chaos—though he was no stranger to that—but big enough to keep him up at night, pacing his living room like a restless tiger in a cage. how could a man like him—a grumpier version of any grandmother you’ve ever met, a walking volcano of hot-headedness, and someone who never gave a damn about societal expectations—have this kind of problem?

the thing is, katsuki bakugo was hiding a secret. a deep, dark, unbelievably soft secret. one that not even you, the person closest to him, would suspect. because who in their right mind would guess that the mighty explosion master extraordinaire, was an absolute sucker for babies?

yes, katsuki bakugo had a raging case of baby fever.

it started the moment he began spending more time with you—watching you interact with the world, your gentle care for others, and that warmth you exuded that could melt even his gruff exterior. he never really thought about kids before, much less his own. but then he saw you holding a friend’s baby at a small gathering, cradling the tiny bundle in your arms like they were the most precious thing in the world. the way you smiled down at them, the soft cooing noises you made, and how the baby instantly relaxed against you—it was like a punch straight to his chest.

katsuki swore he felt his heart skip a beat. that tiny human looked so damn peaceful in your arms, and for the first time in his life, he imagined what it might be like to see you holding a child that looked like both of you.

ever since that day, the thought just wouldn’t leave him alone. he’d catch himself staring at families in parks, his sharp eyes zeroing in on chubby cheeks, tiny fingers, and wobbly little steps. he even started tolerating kirishima’s stories about his nieces and nephews, though he’d never admit it out loud.

but here’s the kicker—katsuki bakugo was absolutely mortified about telling you. how does a guy like him, who’s built his entire persona on being tough, independent, and borderline unapproachable, confess that he’s been daydreaming about late-night feedings and toddler tantrums? about a miniature version of himself—or, god forbid, you—running around the house?

so he kept it to himself, bottling up those strange, unfamiliar feelings like he did with most things. but every time he saw you, especially when you were in one of those rare, tender moods, he felt that itch grow stronger. he wanted to tell you. he wanted to share this part of himself with you.

and it didn’t take much longer for you to figure out what was going on with your husband. after all, you knew katsuki bakugo like the back of your hand—every scowl, every grumble, every subtle shift in his demeanor. it was easy to notice when something was off, even when he thought he was being sneaky about it.

you saw how his eyes would linger, softening ever so slightly, whenever a baby was around. at first, you thought it was just a coincidence—a rare moment of katsuki being uncharacteristically quiet. but then it kept happening. whether it was at the park, at a friend’s house, or even in the grocery store, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from those chubby-cheeked little ones.

and then there were the baby videos. oh, those damn videos. you remembered the first time you caught him watching one. he’d been sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone with his usual scowl. but when you peeked over his shoulder, you saw it—a ridiculously adorable video of a baby giggling uncontrollably at their dog’s antics.

“seriously, katsuki?” you teased, leaning in closer. “didn’t take you for the ‘cute baby video’ type.”

he practically jumped out of his skin, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket with a glare. “shut up.” he barked, his ears turning a telltale shade of pink. “it popped up on my feed. stupid algorithm.”

but after that, you started noticing more. how his fingers would hesitate just a second longer when he scrolled past a baby video, or how he’d glance at your phone if you were watching something similar. of course, he’d always roll his eyes and mutter something about how “cringe” and “unnecessary” it was for people to post that kind of shit online.

“what’s the point, huh?” he’d grumble, arms crossed over his chest. “ain’t like anyone cares about random babies.”

but you weren’t fooled. not even for a second. the way his voice softened at the end, the faintest twitch of his lips as if he were fighting back a smile—you knew. katsuki bakugo had a soft spot, and it was big enough to fit every giggling baby and their tiny fingers in it.

and now that you knew, it was just a matter of time before you brought it up. because there was no way you were going to let him keep this adorable little secret to himself.

you decided to wait for the right moment, knowing katsuki would probably combust on the spot if you confronted him too soon. patience wasn’t always your strong suit, but for this, you were willing to bide your time.

that moment came one lazy sunday afternoon. katsuki was sprawled out on the couch, pretending to be interested in whatever action movie was playing on the TV, but you knew better. his phone was resting suspiciously close, and every few minutes, he’d glance at it like it was calling his name.

“you know.” you began casually, sitting down beside him and leaning against his shoulder. “you’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

he stiffened immediately, a gruff ‘tch’ escaping his lips as he shifted under your weight. “the hell are you talking about? ’m not acting weird.”

“oh, really?” you tilted your head to look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “so, you’re saying you didn’t watch that compilation of babies trying lemons yesterday?”

his eyes widened, just a fraction, before narrowing into his usual glare. “you were spying on me?”

“you were sitting right next to me, katsuki. it’s not spying if you’re practically shoving it in my face.”

he grumbled something under his breath, probably a string of curses about how nosy you were, but you weren’t about to let him squirm out of this.

“you know.” you continued, voice softer now. “it’s okay to admit you like them. babies, i mean.”

his entire body went rigid, and for a moment, you thought he might explode—not in anger, but sheer embarrassment. his ears turned that familiar shade of pink, and he refused to meet your gaze, choosing instead to glare at the TV like it had personally offended him.

“i don’t—” he started, but you cut him off with a gentle laugh.

“katsuki.” you said, reaching for his hand and lacing your fingers with his. “it’s fine. it’s not like you’re some heartless robot. you’re allowed to like cute things, you know. even babies.”

he let out a frustrated sigh, running his free hand through his hair. “it’s not like that.” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “i just. . fuck, i don’t know. ever since you—i mean, we—it’s just been on my mind, okay?”

you blinked, taken aback by his honesty. katsuki bakugo wasn’t the type to bare his soul, but here he was, stumbling over his words, trying to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself.

“on your mind, huh?” you teased gently, though your heart was swelling at his vulnerability. “like. . you’ve been thinking about us? having a baby?”

he groaned, dropping his head back against the couch and covering his face with his arm. “don’t make me say it out loud, idiot.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “you’re such a dork, katsuki. but for the record. . i think you’d be a pretty amazing dad.”

that got his attention. he peeked at you from under his arm, his crimson eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt or teasing. when he didn’t find any, his expression softened, and he let out a quiet, almost relieved breath.

“yeah?” he asked gruffly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

“yeah.” you said firmly, squeezing his hand with a warmth that made his chest ache in the best way. “and, you know, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea to start our own family.”

katsuki could feel his heart skip a beat, the words settling over him like a blanket of relief and excitement all at once. he stared at you, wide-eyed and a little stunned, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.

you were more than happy with his idea.

he didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe teasing, maybe some sarcastic remark to brush off the heavy topic—but this? this genuine, heartfelt agreement? it floored him.

“you— you mean that?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

you smiled at him, your expression so soft and full of love that he thought he might melt right then and there. “of course, i mean it, katsuki. i’ve been thinking about it too, you know. and seeing how you are. . it just makes me feel like we’d be good at this. together.”

his throat felt tight, and he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. katsuki bakugo didn’t cry, damn it, but this moment—this you—was doing something to him he couldn’t quite explain.

“yeah, well.” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away, his ears still bright red. “don’t think i’ll be one of those soft-ass dads who lets the kid get away with everything.”

you chuckled, leaning closer and wrapping your arms around his middle. “no, you’ll be the dad who pretends to be all tough but secretly sneaks them sweets when i’m not looking.”

“the hell i will.” he shot back, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

you chuckled softly, the sound filling the quiet room as you glanced up at your husband. your eyes met his, and in that moment, they said more than words ever could—full of love, trust, and the unspoken promise of a future you both were starting to dream about together.

katsuki’s crimson gaze softened in a way that was reserved only for you. his calloused hand moved with a gentleness that never failed to surprise you, his fingers slowly tilting your chin up to meet his.

“c’mere.” he murmured, his voice low and rough, but carrying a warmth that made your heart flutter.

before you could reply, his lips brushed against yours, firm yet tender, a kiss that spoke volumes. it wasn’t just a kiss—it was reassurance, excitement, and an unspoken vow all wrapped into one.

you melted into him, your hands sliding up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. it was moments like this that reminded you just how deeply katsuki loved, even if he wasn’t always the best at putting it into words.

slowly, the kiss deepened, the soft tenderness giving way to something more heated, more desperate. katsuki’s hands moved on instinct, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided you onto his lap. the motion was seamless, almost as if it was second nature for him to want you this close, to feel you against him.

his hands found their way to your waist, fingers pressing into your sides in a way that made your breath hitch. it wasn’t calculated—it never was with katsuki. his movements were raw, driven by pure feeling, as if his body knew what he wanted before his mind could catch up.

you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, earning a low growl from deep in his chest. the sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but press yourself closer, your knees bracketing his thighs as you straddled him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky and rough as his hands tightened their hold on your waist, pulling you even closer. “always makin’ me feel shit i never thought i’d feel.”

you smiled against his mouth, your own fingers sliding down to trace the sharp lines of his jaw. “maybe i just have that effect on you, katsu.”

“damn right, you do.” he shot back, his lips trailing down your jaw and along the column of your neck, leaving a searing trail in their wake. his breath was hot against your skin, and the way his hands moved—one slipping up to rest against the small of your back, the other holding your hip firmly in place—made your head spin.

the movie playing in the background was long forgotten, the only sounds in the room now the soft gasps escaping your lips and the low, gravelly noises katsuki made as he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough. and truthfully, he couldn’t.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Accidental Influencer

In which you're reminded why you fell in love with Lando in the first place.

Warnings: nothing Pairing: Lando Norris x Influencer!Reader Word count: 1.5k(ish)

based on this request Master List

yourinstaname posted

598,029 likes liked by landonorris, charlottetilbury, kikagomes, and others yourinstaname 'tis the season and all that (tagged: charlottetilbury, landonorris) user444 love when we get @/yourinstaname and lando content >>>user837 for real. charlottetilbury so excited to see you tonight!!! user009 body goals fr landonorris hey cutie, you got a date for tonight??? >>>yourinstaname eh, just my boyfriend but i'm willing to ditch him if you're offering 🤭 >>>user928 their interactions are always so sickeningly cute. >>>user829 always flirting, never serious. my favorite F1 couple fr.

You hadn't meant to become an influencer. Honest to God, you really hadn't. But then your Get Ready with Me, Cheerleader Edition had gone viral during your senior year of college and that had been that. Even though you'd been in the influencer world for a few years now it was still a place where you weren't totally comfortable. Sure, you had made some really good friends and had even found the love of your life in F1 driver Lando Norris but there was still something about the parties and late nights that had you feeling anxious sometimes.

Anxiety that spiked on nights like this, despite the fact that you had brought said boyfriend with you as your plus one, where you found yourself just wanting to run back to Lando's apartment and snuggle on the couch.

It had been a few weeks ago when the email invite had landed in your manager's inbox inviting you to Charlotte Tilbury's annual Christmas party in the heart of downtown London. It was a big deal that you'd been invited, an American that had moved across the ocean 2 years ago, and your manager had insisted you go and network. You had been reluctant even back then though. It had been a difficult and busy year, with Lando's season being hectic and you trying to be there for him as much as possible while fulfilling the brand deals and obligations you needed to do. You wanted nothing more than to spend the evening alone in your flat hibernating with your boyfriend.

In the end, it had been Lando that had convinced you to go, offering to be your plus one. Which you were now regretting as you stood in the corner of the room near one of the giant Christmas trees watching the room buzz with activity.

Girls in tiny sparkly dresses stood in little groups, laughing and socializing. Girls that were dressed to the nines, makeup applied perfectly probably by professionals. Girls that kept tossing you glances every once in a while, as if they were wondering what in the world you were doing with someone like Lando. Fairy lights twinkled above, creating a soft ambient glow that you knew would create good lighting for some photos later in the evening.

Across the room, you spotted Lando standing at the bar getting you another French 75, your favorite drink of the moment. Lando stood behind another plus one date dressed in a charcoal grey suit waiting to order you a drink. As he waited, his head turned just slightly and you caught his gaze, the eye contact with you sending a cool shiver down his spine. You'd been dating for nearly two years now and the sight of you still set something squeezing in his chest you were just so pretty. But beyond your looks, you were authentic and felt everything so deeply and fully, something that he found was missing from a lot of people in your world. He knew you didn't like these kinds of nights but he was so proud you had put your anxieties aside in order to put yourself out there.

Once the drinks were ordered, Lando started back towards you, surprised to see you chatting with one of the other girls that had been invited. As he crossed the room, his eyes stay locked on you despite several women trying not so very subtly to get his attention. A few just simply called out his name, voices thick with flirtation and innuendo. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your boyfriend approaching and also noticed how many heads turned in his direction, sending something painful twisting in your stomach. You struggled to keep the conversation up with the girl across you, someone who you'd met a few times before and genuinely did like, just watching Lando approach you with 2 drinks in his hands.

"Baby, look they put glitter in the drinks tonight." Lando gushes when he finally reaches where you're standing, handing you your drink before slipping his now empty hand around your waist.

A sharp streak of desire skitters across your skin at being claimed by Lando as he pulls you in for a quick kiss. The small reassurance that he's here for you and only you settles something in your bones and you don't miss the glint of jealousy in your friends face as she watches the two of you come together.

"You guys are so cute together." Fiona coos across from you. "How did you meet again?"

Your eyes dart over to Lando, and he winks at you, encouraging you to answer the question. A small smile plays on your face as you recount the beginning of your story with him. "I had been invited to be at the Miami race last year by Ferrari."

Next to you, you can practically feel Lando roll his eyes. 2 years later, he's still bitter you started off as a Ferrari fan and not in papaya. You pinch at his arm softly, knowing that he was shaking his head at the thought.

"And I was in the paddock when Fernando Alonso went flying down the sidewalk and nearly took me out. My knight in shining armor pulled me out of the way just before I was nearly made road kill."

"Swept her right off her feet." Lando quips as he squeezes your hip, nostalgic smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he barely resisted the urge to kiss you right in front of everyone.

"He offered to take me to lunch in the McLaren hospitality suite after threatening to put Alonso into the wall as retaliation for nearly killing me."

"I was a goner the moment I saw her walking down that sidewalk and then Nando did me the biggest favor of my life." Leaning down, Lando nuzzles into your neck, not caring that your friend is right there, watching you both with an amused smile on her face.

"I somehow found myself in the McLaren garage a few weeks later in Montreal, which someone still refuses to admit he's responsible for two years later." You bump your hip against your boyfriends, grinning over at him like a lovesick puppy.

Lando just shrugs, "I had absolutely nothing to do with that." He says, faux innocence lacing his voice.

Which, of course, was been a total lie. Seeing you draped in Ferrari scarlet had jealousy coursing through his veins the entire time he had been with you that first day in Miami. Lando had fallen hard and fast for you, something that had taken him completely by surprise. The way you laughed so quickly and easily, the way you put your entire soul into anything you did, the way you loved so loud and so boldly had him craving time with you, no matter how short it was.

He had gone straight to the PR department the next time he had been at the MTC, requesting special VIP passes be sent to you to the next race you were available for. Gina, who was responsible for coordinating guest passes and celebrity invites, had been shocked at his insistence at inviting someone who didn't do F1 related content or anything but had, of course, complied with the driver's request and began working on getting you to another race.

When that invite had landed in your managers inbox, you had agreed nearly instantaneously, remembering how good it felt to have Lando's full attention on you even as briefly as it had been in Miami.

"God, you guys are so cute, it's gross." Fiona gushes as you two get lost in each other's gaze as if she's not even standing right in front of you.

Lando reaches in his pocket for his phone before handing it over to Fiona. "Would you mind taking some pictures of us in front of the tree?"

You glance over at him, somewhat surprised at his request. It wasn't that Lando didn't like taking pictures with you, most of the time he indulged your requests because he did love getting those pictures together with you and he knew it was part of your job, but you knew that he preferred his privacy when it came to his personal life. "You sure?"

Lando nods, no hint of insincerity on his face. Fiona takes Lando's phone without hesitation and directs the pair of you on the best angle to take advantage of the twinkling fairy lights above and on the tree behind you.

As you listen to your friends direction, enjoying the way Lando's hands sit heavily on your hips when he pulls you closer, you're filled with gratitude and appreciation for your boyfriend, glad he had insisted you come tonight despite your initial reservations.

yourinstaname posted

299,948 likes liked by therealfiona, landonorris, charlottetilbury, and others yourinstaname It's the most wonderful time of the year. thank you to @/charlottetilbury for inviting us out for such a lovely evening. (photo cred to @/therealfiona.) (tagged: landonorris, charlottetilbury) therealfiona I should look into a career as a photographer. lovely to see you babes, can't wait to see you for New Years!! >>>yourinstaname profesh photog material for sure! xox landonorris whoever had the idea to take these pictures deserves an extra kiss tonight >>>yourinstaname you're literally sat two feet away from me rn, come get your reward. >>>user938 i'm obsessed with boyfriend lando >>>yourinstaname me too! 😉

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[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ meet the parents

single dad Eddie Munson x single mom Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: For my fourth and final fic of @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas, I bring you a romcom-worthy meet cute! A one-night stand in a small town is always a dangerous game.

Content: Eddie and Reader are both single parents. Modern AU. P in V and oral sex. Too many feelings for a one-night stand. Reader’s shitty ex mention. Small town dynamics. Light on Christmas, heavy on Eddie being a sexy menace. If you see any typos/messy sentences lmk!!

Just an extra little note to say the biggest THANK YOU to @littlexdeaths for putting together these wonderful Promptmas ideas, and for just being completely lovely and amazing too. I have had such a fun few weeks working on writing again, it’s been a crazy few months for me personally so this has been the best way to get back into writing and feeling creative again!! I’ve loved every minute ❤️

✨bang average festive fics✨ Eddie Munson fics ✨Dividers by @strangergraphics✨

It has been quite a few years since you woke up in a stranger’s bed. 

More used to the morning time routine of trying to get a sleepy six-year-old up and ready for the day, or the heartwarming feeling of said six-year-old making her way into your bed to cuddle on sleepy Sundays, you feel a little out of your depth this morning.

And some degree of hungover. 

But it could be worse, you supposed. The stranger’s bed was comfy and he had plenty of pillows for you to sleep on. His sheets were clean and he had not totally smothered you like a limpet all night, nor had he expected you to get up and leave while you were still catching your breath. He was a fairer bedmate than your daughter, and it was pleasant to wake up with the warm weight of his inked arm around you rather than a kid’s-size-twelve foot digging into your ribs, or her hair in your mouth. 

You sink into the comfort of it all, relishing that long-forgotten post-great-sex ache all over and the feeling of waking after a deep and dreamless sleep. You had not been this well-rested in almost seven years.

Next to you, he is asleep on his stomach with his arm across your middle. The room is dusky dark, but you can still make out the tattoos along his pale bare body and the glint of his nose ring, the spill of long dark hair piled up on his head. He is much softer now than when you met in the bar last night, no coy smirk or wolfish grin, no deep dimples on his cheeks. His whiskey eyes are still shut, and you feel warm all over when you remember how he had looked at you like you were the only woman in the bar, in the world, last night. How he had taken you home and taken you apart right here in his navy sheets. 

Carefully, trying not to wake the man next to you, you ease yourself up to check your phone.  It’s far too early to worry about picking Hazel up yet.

Not for the first time, you say a silent thanks to the universe for your neighbour for agreeing to babysit Hazel so that you could have a well-deserved Christmas night out with the friends you had made at work. You will bring her a nice hand-tied bouquet from the shop next week, just because. Without Claudia and her kindness to lean on, you know that going it alone in this small new town would so be much harder. It had been serendipitous really, moving in next door to an older and wiser woman who had been in the very same position as you when her son was not much older than Hazel. You begin piecing together the perfect bouquet for her, eucalyptus and rose and red ribbon, distracting yourself briefly from the dull ache in your head and the dry feeling on your tongue.

He brought you a glass of water before you fell asleep together. It’s cool in your throat, though it barely touches the sides of the discomfort pressing behind your brows. When the glass is mostly empty, you settle back next to him and let yourself doze for a little longer.

Eddie instinctively pulls you closer in his sleep, his warm morning breath tickling your shoulder and neck. You know it is just temporary, he is still a stranger, but let yourself enjoy the fleeting comfort while it lasts.

“Morning.”

His voice is rough and smoky, and there’s a tired smile waiting for you when you open your eyes a while later. You are struck by how pretty he is, handsome and hot but pretty with it; long dark lashes and doe-eyes, cheekbones to die for.

“Hi,” you whisper back. You feel yourself smiling back at him, feeling dreamy and oh-so-comfortable. You stretch your body out, relishing the rush of blood and oxygen to your muscles and your eyes drop closed again at that so-good feeling.

“Sleeping Beauty.” 

When Eddie kisses your hair, you miss how he closes his eyes and savours the moment; you are too busy basking in the unexpected tenderness of this one-night stand, the easiness of waking up slow with a man you met less than twelve hours ago. Even if it is just for this morning, you soak it up. 

“Mhmm. You have a comfy bed,” you whisper, looking up at him again. 

You brush your fingertips along his silver chain before tracing up to his jaw, past the tendrils of hair escaping his scrunchie. You know the feeling of that dark grown-out and nicely-maintained stubble, how it brushed and burned so good on the inside of your thighs, how it feels against your lips. 

Tentatively, bravely, you press your mouth against his and feel his smile. It’s sweet, slow. Intimate and lovely.

“Yeah? M’glad you think so,” he murmurs and steals one more kiss before pulling you against his body. 

Last night as you basked in the afterglow, Eddie asked so quietly if he could hold you and you almost teared up about it. It had been a long time since anyone had held you like that, like he is holding you again this morning.  It has been a long time since anyone has been sweet to you, shared closeness and intimacy like this. Not since the man you loved upped and left, leaving you and one-year-old Hazel with only each other to love. 

You feel the strength of his arms and the softness of his belly. There’s a stirring, hardening interest against your thigh and yet he’s not being too forward or pushy. He’s just holding you, just ‘coz. 

“I don’t… S’a while since I had a sleepover,” he admits, running his blunt nails over the small of your back. “You didn’t hog the covers, and you didn’t sneak off without saying bye…”

Eddie pulls back a little, wearing that small flirty smile that made you swoon last night. His voice is so playful, even though it is deep with morning huskiness. 

“Still here,” you whisper back, “I… It’s been a while for me too. I don’t usually… Yeah.” You shrug, you know he gets it. 

There is a glint of something in his eyes before he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m glad we did. I had fun.” 

The dimple in his cheek is beautiful and bashful, and when he looks at you again his eyes go right to your lips.

“Me too.” You touch his chain again and tug gently to bring your lips together again, putting you both out of your misery.

No one has ever kissed you like Eddie did last night, with all-consuming lust that made you feel electric. He is a blend of rough and smooth, a firm guiding hand followed by a gentle caress. You have never felt so wanted, so craved.

The way he kisses you this morning pushes aside the thoughts of all you need to do today. All you know is want, the cloying feeling of wanting to touch and be touched, craving pleasure. With his hands to guide, you straddle his lap and lean into the feeling of his fingertips wandering past the hem of the t-shirt he loaned you last night. 

Eddie looks up at you like you’re some sort of deity, his eyes and lips shining as you peel off the t-shirt and throw it behind you, leaving yourself bare in his lap. He was not put off by the stretch marks, or the Mom Body you felt so self-conscious about sometimes. Nor was he put off by the fact that you are a Mom. Eddie had simply smiled when you briefly mentioned your daughter, told you he had his own little girl without giving too much away. With that fresh layer of yourselves on show, you could understand each other just a little bit more without going full gushing-parent mode, sharing pictures of your little angels or ranting about who loved Bluey and loathed Peppa more. 

His fingers run over the stretch marks on your hips, starting up a slow grind as he kisses your neck (remembering your ‘no marks’ rule). There is a slight chill in the air to remind you that beyond this liminal bliss, it is a frosty December morning, but Eddie warms you up and distracts you without second thought. 

In the gauzy light, you see touches of fatherhood around his room, easily missed in the passion of last night - a framed drawing on his bedside table, a kiddie hair clip in his ring dish. You smile to yourself and shiver when his warm breath skates over the damp trail of kisses.

“Pretty smile,” he murmurs, needing to taste and feel it again. 

Hands wander and squeeze and you get drunk on each other all over again in the cocoon of Eddie’s bed. You blindly follow his dark treasure trail before taking him in hand, hot and diamond-hard, and savour the taste and sound of his moan. Your aching need for him is tempered and satiated by his fingers and you flush hot all over when he encourages you to scoot up and let him taste you, almost begging for it. Dazed with want, you find yourself clinging to the headboard with white knuckles and his name spilling from your lips. 

Eddie could die a happy man with your thighs bracketing his head. The taste of you makes him feel drunk as you take your pleasure from him; the needy roll of your hips is encouraged by his greedy hands in contrast to how cautious and careful you had been not to trap and tug his hair beneath your knees. 

When you are sufficiently dumb with pleasure, he lays you back against the pillows and lays out his desire for you in between messy kisses, losing his train of thought when you get your hand back on him and whisper back your need for him to fuck you now. Eddie reaches blindly for the (blessedly still-in-date) box of foil-wrapped packets in his drawer, not wanting to look away from you for even a moment.

He holds your hand as he makes love to you and you have to remind yourself not to get too caught up in how sweet Eddie is, even when he his making you feel like you have never been so full; sweetness and filthy words wound together so sweetly. It’s overwhelming and he catches you fighting tears when you feel too good. 

“Hey,” he whispers, wearing too much worry between his brows. “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

A guy being decent should not make your heart swell like this, and yet it does. You shake your head, tears spill over and he brushes them away with care.

“No, no. You’re not hurting me,” you promise. “I feel really good. S’just a lot.” 

Your voice wobbles and he smiles fondly against your mouth, relieved and happy to be wanted in return. 

Eddie has this magnetism, warm and cloying and a little mysterious; it makes you feel comfortable even when he’s teasing you and making you flush hot all over. 

“Yeah, baby? That’s what I’m here for,” he whispers, and kisses you slowly, sweetly. “Let me make you feel good.” You feel like your heart could beat out of your chest. He can feel it hammering against him as he starts up a slow roll of his hips that fills you completely. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets as Eddie fucks you into his mattress. Nothing else matters in those moments, only pleasure. You fight the urge to sink your teeth into the meat and muscle of his arm, lick the drip of sweat from his neck. Instead, you taste the way he moans your name and cling to him when you come just moments apart - you first, then him.

He shares his water with you afterwards when he sees your empty glass; you are both damp with sweat and lying side by side with your heartbeats pounding in your ears, the lingering taste of each other on your tongues.

When he kisses you again, his lips are water-cooled and tender.

“Can I make you some coffee? I have to pick up my little terror in a bit…” he says, already cringing at himself. “She’s great, I swear. I promised her diner pancakes for brunch.”

Reality trickles back in, a not-unpleasant cooling off of your morning together.

“Yeah, I should probably not show up in last night’s clothes to pick my kid up. Coffee sounds good.” 

There was always an expiry date on this; the boundaries of a one-night stand were set and familiar, despite how long it has been and despite how easy and intimate this morning has been. You’re both adults, both okay with it. 

“Cool.” He smiles and hauls himself out of bed, stepping into his lost and found again boxers before he doubles back to kiss your cheek. 

When your legs are steady enough he shows you how the shower works, leaving you to it with a new toothbrush, fresh towels and a familiar squeeze to your bare hip. There’s a little part of you that wants him to join you, waste hot water and let him press you against the cold tiles. Eddie wants that too, to delay your inevitable parting of ways and return to reality.

When you look in the mirror, you see a well-fucked woman; kiss-bitten lips and that long-lost post-sex glow. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur to yourself, giggling a little when you think over the last twelve hours. 

You had not gone out looking for a hookup last night, but you made the most of the festive excuse to go for drinks with the few friends you had made since moving to Hawkins six months ago. Catching Eddie’s eye at the bar had been a happy accident. A happy accident that lead to letting him buy you a drink, and then buying him one back. Your friends had wholeheartedly encouraged it, knew him to see around town and vouched for him as a mechanic. Good with his hands, they had teased. Oh, how right they had been.

The water is hot and Eddie’s shower gel is the typical ‘for men’ scented sort of thing. You feel fresh and clean when you step back into the bedroom, finding sweats and an Iron Maiden hoodie on the bed for you, alongside your clothes from last night (which Eddie has attempted to fold neatly, instead of leaving you to pick them up from the floor).

It should not make you smile so much, but your cheeks ache pleasantly as you dress yourself, opting for last night’s jeans with Eddie’s sweater. It’s washed-soft and smells like the detergent you have at home with a hint of his cologne.

You follow the scent of coffee and the sound of music downstairs, finding more traces of parenthood on your way - a purple fairy door on the baseboard,  a washing basket full of clean kids' clothes outside a closed bedroom door, light-up Skechers and silver glitter rain boots in the hall. There is something familiar about them, but brush it aside as something Hazel probably asked for in Target.

Eddie’s unbuttoned jeans hang low on his hips as he makes coffee in mismatched mugs, his hair is down tickling against his bare shoulders and back. There are drawings on the fridge and a Christmas tree peeking out from the living room. It feels like a happy home.

His eyes light up when he sees you, looking as hungry and enamoured by you in his hoodie as he had been when you were wearing nothing at all. 

“Do you take sugar, or are you sweet enough?” he asks, wearing a softer version of that panty-dropper smile from last night. He smells clean, minty and masculine, after a quick whore’s bath in the other bathroom.

“Just one,” you say, resting your hip against the kitchen island while you watch him fix up your coffee. “You’re smooth, huh?”

“You tell me.” He slides the mug across to you before blowing on his coffee, taking a still-too-hot sip that he tries and fails to cover. For a moment, you think he might be doing a bit, alas he is simply endearingly clumsy.

You feel bad laughing, but Eddie only pouts a little bit before grinning at you. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and he ducks his head to hide behind his hair. 

“Real smooth.” 

Exercising patience, you decide to let your coffee cool a little.

“I’ll give you a ride home if you like?” he says, hoping it’s not too forward. 

He wants to be more forward, ask for your number and ask you out. He likes how his clothes fit your body, and how you looked blissed-out in his bed. While Eddie’s trying not to come off too strong, you appreciate his sweetness and fight your own internal battle of trying not to fall for your one-night stand.

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Eddie. I’m over on Cornwallis, is that out of your way?”

He smiles a little, “I don’t mind a little detour, sweetheart.”

You pointedly blow on your coffee, learning from his mistake, and savour the made-just-right coffee in a Snoopy & Woodstock mug.

Over his shoulder, you spot a photo of a familiar man on the fridge, bookended by two heads of dark curly hair. There’s a handpainted fridge magnet with ‘Fae’ written in childishly charming pink writing, and you feel your cheeks flame.

He watches your face change, looks over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. 

“Ah. That’s my Uncle Wayne, and Fae. My daughter. she’s six.” He unpins the picture and thumbs over it gently before turning it around to you.

You know exactly who they are, but take it anyway.

When you moved your life to Hawkins, Indiana six months ago, you would never have believed that you would make friends with a grandfather in his sixties outside of Curtain Call Dance Studio while you waited for Hazel. Making friends as a single Mom in a new town was not easy, you had little time outside of work and parenting for yourself, let alone socialising (and god forbid, dating). And then you parked next to Wayne one Thursday. He was a little quiet but had warmed up more each week; now he smiled when he saw you, asked how your job at the florists was and how Hazel was doing in school.

Even though they were in different First Grade class groups at Hawkins Elementary, Hazel and Fae had become almost inseparable in their dance classes and on the playground. 

You knew Fae’s dad worked late some evenings, so Wayne helped him out. Hazel had told you that she had seen Fae’s dad once when he picked her up early to go to the dentist, and that he had hair just like her friend.

“She looks just like me, it’s crazy - poor kid. I can’t believe she’s six. She’s supposed to be three, max. Y’know what I mean?” He says, showing you more of his proud Dad side before realising that your confusion is not because you’re looking at a picture of two clones. “You okay?”

“You’re Fae’s Dad? Fae Munson?” you ask, watching his shoulders tense a little as he nods. “Eddie. Our kids know each other. I’ve met Wayne.” 

He scowls slightly beneath his bangs, confused and a little worried that he hooked up with the mother of one of the kids who was mean to Fae in school, who told the teacher when she was ‘too chatty’ or when she stood up for herself.

The words spill from you untempered, unrestrained to clear it all up. “They’re at dance class together. They’re in the same grade. Hazel and Fae are friends, Eddie…”

He visibly softens, drops his shoulders, and even though he still looks confused he melts even more when an involuntary nervous laugh bubbles from your chest. 

“Seriously? No… You’re Hazel’s mom?” His eyes blow wide. “Fuck.” 

Eddie puts his head on the counter with a thunk, and you’re left with the photo of three smiling Munsons. Fae has her Dad’s eyes and hair, his impish mischief that had endeared you to the little girl. They really are alike.

“Wayne was right,” he says, muffled beneath his hair before peeking at you, “You are cute.” 

It makes you laugh more, though your cheeks feel like the surface of the sun.

“Wayne thinks I’m cute? Huh…”

“No. Nope,” he yelps, head flying up like a wild thing. “Oh my goddd.”

You feel a little spacey as the pieces fall into place. Wayne’s nephew Ed worked at Thatcher Tyre as a mechanic, and Fae had told Hazel her Dad looked like a rockstar. She wasn’t wrong…

“He was totally going to try and set us up or somethin’.”

“He did say I’d finally get to meet you at the Winter Performance…” you say, feeling fizzy-all-over as you come to terms with the shock of it all. “Guess we bet him to it.”

“Told me you were real sweet too.” Eddie smiles, his cheeks are pinker than ever.

Part of your brain berates you for hooking up with a stranger in a small town - a small town where everyone knows everyone else. But when Eddie reaches his hand out across the island and says, “Good to finally meet you, Hazel’s Mom,” with that flirty smile and his whiskey eyes, it melts away and you’re not really that sorry at all.

You take his hand, mug-warmed and adorned with silver rings. 

“Nice to meet you at last, Fae’s Dad.”

Neither of you is too embarrassed by the revelation, though you both circle back to how fucking crazy it is at least twice. Even though you still feel gooey-warm under his attention, you don’t want anything to get in the way of your daughter’s friendship, of your new start in Hawkins, and feel selfish for wanting more than the taste you have already had of Eddie Munson. You both know your time together is drawing to an end, the bubble is about to burst, and a little part of you wishes that the illusion of being strangers could have lasted a little longer. 

With your coffee consumed and your coats and boots on, Eddie takes your hand and pulls you against his body before you step outside of the door together. 

“Hey, gorgeous. One more kiss?” he asks, head tilted to the side. 

You don’t need to think about it, and take his stubbled jaw with both hands as he holds your hips. Kissing him makes all the tension roll away once more, and you hope it is enough to help him remember you as more than just some other Mom in the First Grade Parents Group Chat (which you both have muted). You have to savour it, remember his taste and touch.

Eddie is not shy about kissing you, he slides his tongue against yours and moans ever so quietly when you push your chest against his. He is also the one to slow it down, makes it sweet and tender and you would dare say romantic, even with his hands on your ass. 

“Can I ask for one more thing?” he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. 

Right now, you would consider giving him a kidney or a blow job if he asked nicely. 

“Mhm,” you whisper, giving nothing away just yet. 

“Can I get your number? I wanna take you out properly,” he says, his thumbs play with the belt loop at the back of your jeans. “Like a date.”

Feeling hot all over, you try to play it cool and not nod so eagerly lest you headbutt him and leave him bloody-nosed. 

“Yeah. That would be nice, Eddie.” 

He watches how your teeth sink into your lip and has to kiss you once more, just because. You take his phone and add your number and name, adding a little sparkle emoji before deleting it. Then you add it again and hand it back before you can change your mind.

“Cool. And, um maybe the girls could have a play date sometime? I was gonna ask for your number anyway, so y’know. Two birds, one stone and all that. Silver linings?” Eddie does a jazz-hand-flourish thing before he shakes his head at himself and tucks his phone away. “I had a good time with you. A great time. And I know what you might be thinking, I don’t want this to get between the girls either. But I’d love to see you again.”

You are even more endeared by these glimpses of how sensible he is as well as his goofy awkwardness beneath the leather jacket and bad boy stare.

He is as gentlemanly as he had been last night, opening doors for you, though he is less handsy in the bright morning light (he does give your knee a squeeze at the stoplight). You feel safe with him as he navigates the frosty roads of Hawkins, talking about music, what concerts you had been to before becoming parents, and where to get the sparkly tutus for the Winter Performance. 

All too soon he pulls up outside your house, spotting the red door with the handmade wreath that you had described.

“Next to Henderson’s?” he asks, brow raised.

“Yep. Do you know Claudia, or is this town just too small?”

He laughs, tilts his head against the headrest. “It’s way too small. Her son, Dustin? One of my best friends.” 

You tip your head forward, smiling even as your head shakes. “I’ve heard so much about Dustin. We’re having Christmas dinner with them.”

Eddie's dimpled cheeks crease even more. “Damn. Well, I can’t wait to hear why you picked Hawkins of all places to move to. You can tell me on our date.”

Proud of how that flusters you, he presses a kiss to your hand and winks, “I’ll text you later, sweetheart.”

You want to kiss him again, but you manage to restrain yourself, remembering the nosy neighbours on Cornwallis. Instead, you let the flickering fire inside you flirt back, hoping to fluster him too.

You place your hand high on his thigh and squeeze. “You better, Eddie. Drive safe.”

You can feel him checking you out all over again, the weight and warmth of his gaze, as you make your way up the path to your door. Once your key is in the lock, you part ways with a wave and a wink, lingering just a moment more to watch his car peel away from the curb. 

Left with a fluttering feeling in your tummy and warm cheeks that ache from smiling, you take a moment for yourself in your hallway. 

It is time to go back to being Hazel’s mom. You can’t wait to hear about her sleepover with Ms. Claudia and the cats, bask in her brilliance and take every hug and smooch she will offer you (or let you take for yourself). Inspired by Eddie and Fae’s breakfast date, you think of taking your girl to the diner for dinner later on, maybe watching a Christmas movie before bed. 

In the mirror above your sideboard, hanging above the key dish and the thrifted lamp and a photo of you and Hazel in matching sunglasses, you catch sight of your smiling reflection once more, enveloped in a dreamy daze and borrowed hoodie. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and your smile becomes bigger, brighter, brimming with hope. 

What did you think? Do we want more of these two? 👀 Thank you so very very much for reading! Your comments, reblogs and likes are incredibly appreciated and adored!

Whether you're celebrating or not, I am wishing you the cosiest and most wonderful holiday season filled with peace and love and every good thing you deserve ✨

[comicaurora]

Tahraim is my fav absolutely adore him! I love that you’ve made the smith deal in introspection and cryptic bs, a lot of times smiths are very straightforward characters in stories. What made you decide to shake it up?

Can gods be tied to concepts as well as cities? As Tahraim seems to be a god of blacksmithing (or at least has some serious motifs) does he have a city thats just forges?

He also seems a lot more mobile than the other gods, or is he just “tied” to Danix?

Tahraim is a conceptual god, a class of deity considered grander and more untethered than city or nature gods. Also in his weight class are Emnis and Erebas (dreams and nightmares), Shanyasi (music), Sennaia (knowledge), Jiya (war), and a whole bunch of others. They're gods of ideas, and their domains are in the collective consciousness of mortals. They can manifest anywhere they hold sway, and several of them have constructed domains of their own in pocket dimensions; Sennaia has a transfinite library hidden away somewhere, and Tahraim has a forge.

Tahraim's personality comes from my own experience with artists and craftspeople. Many artists are acutely aware that in order for their work to be better, they need to be better. The process of creation and introspection becomes inextricably linked. Forging a tool changes the forger, little by little.

There's also an element I've observed from teachers. I was always a firm proponent of "don't be cryptic or cute, just tell me the thing and I'll get it," and while that's true a lot of the time, there are concepts that cannot be Just Told in any meaningful way. They don't hit or stick if the person doesn't put them together themselves and construct a way that works for them. Teaching isn't always the impartation of information; a lot of the time it's guidance so the student crafts the tools that work for them. Even if the teacher can perfectly communicate what method works for them, everyone is different, and a student that does the exact same thing exactly right might gain no benefits or be actively harmed by the process. Instead, the student has to parse the lesson and create their own tools to execute the same goal.

Personal example under a readmore because it got a little long:

I've sporadically dealt with intrusive thoughts my whole life, though I didn't understand what they were at the time and they've mostly gone away on their own. When I was little, upsetting thoughts would get stuck in my head and stay there; things would give me nightmares that lasted for weeks, or I'd be stuck awake in the wee hours ruminating on every time in my life I'd done something shameful or harmful or wrong. My dad recognized I was upset, and tried to teach me a method of "counting thoughts" that worked for him, where I could sit for a few minutes and just passively observe the thoughts floating by, counting them and observing them and thus becoming aware that they were small, fleeting things with no power on their own. The problem is, this method didn't work for me at all, because "count the thought" didn't communicate to me "and that makes the thought not a problem anymore." The thought still hurt just as bad, all I was doing was reminding myself how many bad thoughts were happening. I would get overwhelmed and end up more distressed, and the fact that this thing that should have worked didn't work just convinced me that I was trapped and nobody could ever help me.

It took actual years before I found a method that clicked in my brain, and it was just one step further down the path of counting thoughts:

"Having that thought is harmless."

Every thought that got stuck in my head was about times or ways I might've harmed people. The things that distressed me most were things I'd done wrong that I had zero power to change, so the wrongness would just haunt me forever, making me miserable forever. But the root of the distress was that I had messed up and hurt people.

The thing that clicked was that having the thought does nothing to anyone but me. The thought is harmless, even if the event the thought is about wasn't or wouldn't be. Having the thought hurts no-one else. And since 90% of my distress was distress at the thought of hurting other people, it hit me that in reality, even in the depths of my angst, I was just sitting there, hurting no-one.

And suddenly I found that the last few intrusive thoughts rattling around in my brain withering, because the last thing that had been feeding them was gone. I was given the technique for Counting Thoughts, but it wasn't made for my hands. I had to make my own version out of it. And just because it worked for me and my own personal brain doesn't mean this method would work for someone else, just the same way the method that worked for my dad didn't click for me. If I wanted to teach someone a way to bypass intrusive thoughts, all I would have to work on would be what worked for me, but I could try to guide them through a path similar to the one I followed to find my method so they could maybe find their specific hangups and what specifically would work for them. Every mind is different.

This is also why it's so frustrating to hear someone say stuff like "Oh I used to worry about that too, but it's actually fine, you can just stop worrying about it!" And it's like, "oh, fuckin brilliant, just stop worrying about it? Absolute genius, I just hadn't thought of that-" like yea it sounds flippant and yea it's not helpful, but they are using the only frame of reference they have and describing what they did. They stressed about something, realized it was not actually a problem, and knowing that was enough to make it leave their mind alone. But saying that they "just stopped worrying" doesn't make you understand or internalize how they did it. And because they can't seem to help you, it makes you mad. But then sometimes, with time and perspective, you look back and think "wow, yea, at some point I really did just stop worrying about that." It doesn't mean their advice worked, it just means somewhere along the line something clicked in your mind and started working.

Tahraim is a smith who sees no difference between shaping a tool and shaping a person, but there are some ways that people can't be shaped from the outside, and instead have to shape themselves. He likes to be subtle and cryptic, but he also has good reason to be. The only way to make something click in someone's head is to guide them towards it and nudge them when necessary. It's not all hitting stuff with hammers.

[hsnlv]

adorably mine! | l.hs

pairing: idol husband!heeseung x wife!reader

synopsis: heeseung’s been acting weirdly clingy lately, and it doesn’t take long to figure out why—he’s jealous. all because of one little comment about jungwon being cute. now you’re stuck dealing with a sulky, dramatic husband who won’t stop clinging to you.

warning: heeseung is in enhypen (no duh), mention of jungwon (idk if that needs a warning lmaoaoao), teeth-rotting fluff!, heeseung is superrrrrrr clingyyy and jealous and pouty and it’s sooo cute!!!

wc: 949

the way heeseung had been acting lately was enough to both frustrate you and make your heart swell at the same time. as much as you loved your affectionate, doting husband, his clinginess over the past few days had reached new heights—ones that were starting to seriously test your patience.

it had all started so innocently. a casual comment made during an outing with the rest of enhypen. you hadn’t even thought twice about it when you remarked how cute jungwon looked while practicing. after all, everyone knew you had a soft spot for adorable things, be it puppies, plushies, or jungwon’s leader energy.

but apparently, heeseung didn’t share your casual outlook.

the very moment the words left your lips, you noticed his head snap up, his usually soft brown eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at you. his lips had formed into the smallest pout, but you’d waved it off as a fleeting moment of jealousy.

if only you’d known what was coming.

𐙚🧸ྀི

it started with little things. like the way heeseung would suddenly hold your hand tighter whenever jungwon was around. or how he’d lean in closer than usual during conversations, as if he was trying to drown out the presence of anyone else. then, it escalated.

you’d never seen him quite like this.

“baby, can you please let go?” you asked, a mix of exasperation and fondness in your tone as you struggled to fold laundry. heeseung’s arms were snugly wrapped around your waist from behind, his chin resting heavily on your shoulder.

“no,” he murmured, voice low and firm as if his very life depended on staying glued to you. his breath tickled your neck as he pressed himself closer, and his grip tightened slightly. “i like it here.”

you sighed, your movements slowing as you turned your head slightly to glance at him. heeseung’s brown eyes met yours, wide and pleading, a spark of insecurity flickering in them that made your heart clench.

“are you seriously still hung up about what i said the other day?” you asked, voice softening.

he didn’t answer, but the way he pursed his lips said enough.

“baby,” you tried again, your tone half-scolding, half-affectionate. “i call everything cute. you’ve known me long enough to know that it doesn’t mean anything.”

“yeah, but…” he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t call me cute anymore.”

your heart practically broke at his words.

“oh, hee,” you cooed, gently prying his arms from your waist so you could turn and face him. “is that what this is about?”

heeseung shrugged, his pout deepening. his eyes dropped to the floor as he shuffled awkwardly, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“it’s not fair,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at you from under his lashes. “you’re my wife. you’re supposed to think i’m the cutest.”

you bit back a laugh, not wanting to hurt his already fragile ego. instead, you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. his cheeks were tinged with a faint pink, and he looked more like a sulky child than the confident, charismatic performer the world knew him to be.

“lee heeseung,” you said firmly, though your lips twitched with a smile. “you are, without a doubt, the cutest man i’ve ever met. no one—and i mean no one—even comes close.”

“not even jungwon?” he asked, his tone still holding a hint of jealousy.

“not even jungwon,” you promised, leaning in to press a kiss to his nose.

heeseung’s pout wavered, and you could tell he was trying hard not to smile. but then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he blurted out, “say it again.”

you blinked. “what?”

“that i’m cute,” he mumbled, his ears turning red.

you couldn’t hold back your laughter this time, your heart swelling with affection for the man in front of you. “hee, you’re adorable. the cutest. the most precious. no one else even compares, okay?”

finally, his pout disappeared, replaced by a shy, satisfied grin. he leaned into your touch, his arms winding around your waist once more as he pulled you into his lap.

“you really mean it?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“of course, i mean it,” you replied, your fingers threading through his soft hair.

heeseung let out a contented sigh, his lips brushing lightly against your collarbone. but just as you thought he’d finally calmed down, you couldn’t resist one last tease.

“though, now that i think about it, jungwon is pretty cute…”

heeseung pulled back so fast you almost lost your balance.

“baby!” he whined, his cheeks puffing out in frustration. “stop saying that!”

you burst into laughter, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him back to you. “i’m kidding, hee. you’re the only guy i’ll ever want. no one else even stands a chance.”

he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, but the way he melted back into your embrace betrayed his resolve. “you’re so mean,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his words.

“and you’re so dramatic,” you shot back, pressing a kiss to his temple.

heeseung only hummed, a quiet, pleased sound that made your heart flutter. his hold on you tightened, as if he never wanted to let go, and you knew in that moment that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“i love you,” he murmured, his voice soft and genuine.

“i love you too,” you replied, resting your forehead against his.

and even though he’d surely find another reason to pout tomorrow, you knew you’d always have the upper hand—because heeseung was hopelessly, completely, head-over-heels in love with you.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm: Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Christmas in the STTC Universe

"Alexia!" Mapi shrieks," Alexia! Stop ignoring me! Alexia!"

Alexia hums to herself, hunched over her phone as she scrolls through another website.

Mapi, however, forces her way through mountains and mountains of stacked boxes to get to the other side of the room.

The locker room is covered in boxes from top to bottom with some even crammed into areas that they really shouldn't be able to be forced into.

"Ale! Alexia!"

Alexia looks up in shock. "Oh! Mapi! When did you get here?"

"About ten minutes ago! Which you would know if you didn't have this place stocked up like the back room of a shoe shop!"

Alexia frowns. "What do you mean? There's only five boxes of shoes here."

"I wasn't being literal!" Mapi snaps before massaging her temples with her hands. "What is all this stuff?! And why is it here?!"

"They're presents," Alexia says it like Mapi's dumb," For Christmas."

"Obviously but why are they here?"

"Well, I couldn't leave them at home. Maya's in that exploring stage so she'd get curious and try to look through them. And Elena's learning to crawl and this stuff would just get in way."

"So you thought that you would put all the presents for your whole family in here? With us?"

"No," Alexia scoffs," Don't be silly, Mapi."

"This is only temporary then? Thank god because I-"

"This is only Maya's gifts. Elena's are in one of the meeting rooms and y/n's are hidden at Alba's...Mapi? Are you okay? Your face is turning an odd colour."

Mapi's dramatic walk off is hindered somewhat by smacking her nose straight into a pile of boxes and nearly falling back into another one but, eventually, she manages to storm out and straight upstairs to your office.

You're sitting in your desk chair, looking through player health files or something when the door is slammed open.

"Your wife is crazy!"

"And hello to you too, Mapi. Come on in!"

"Crazy!" Mapi repeats, pacing in short, aggravated circles," She's crazy! The locker room is covered! Covered! In Christmas presents for your daughter! You have to get her to stop!"

You don't have a time to reply because the door swings open again and Alexia bursts in.

"Amor!" She cries," I found the cutest little booties for Elena! Look! Look!"

"No..." Mapi says softly," No...This-This can't be happening..."

"They're so cute!" You tell Alexia with equal enthusiasm," She'll love them so much! Order them! Order them!"

Alexia types in the delivery address and her card details and orders it happily before looking up.

"Where did Mapi go?"

It's a question that neither of you really dwell on that much as you show Alexia your own present ideas.

Wrapping the presents the night before isn't an easy task and you get the feeling that you and Alexia might have gone just a bit overboard. It's only a fleeting thought as you and Alexia wrap the boxes and tie them off with bows, writing sweet messages to your daughters on them even though neither of them can read just yet.

"We're all sleeping together tonight, right?" Alexia asks as she finishes off her last present, placing it in Elena's sizable pile.

"Us and the girls, definitely," You agree," I'm not sure if you'll get all the dogs and Mr Stinky in bed with us."

Mr Stinky looks up from his spot on the special pillow that's reserved just for him on the sofa. The tumours on his body have gotten much bigger now and he's getting weaker and weaker by the day.

He's got one more scan to come back to see if anything can be done but this could be his very last Christmas.

"Mr Stinky won't mind," Alexia assures you," He loves cuddling in our bed."

"And Lady?"

"Lady loves cuddling too!"

"And Sinky and his sisters?"

Alexia purses her lips. The puppies are still a bit wild and excitable at times, none of them ever content to just stay in one place even though the bed is more than big enough for everyone to fit into it.

"We'll leave the bedroom door open," Alexia says sagely, nodding her head like she's just cracked the secrets of the universe," So they can come in if they want."

"Alright," You say, standing up and stretching your back," I'm going to bring Mr Stinky up and then grab Elena. You'll let the dogs out one last time and get Maya?"

Alexia nods, drawing you back for a moment by your waist to press a kiss to your lips.

"I will, amor."

"Good," You say," And hurry up."

Alexia nods along with a smile, already heading to open the back door for the dogs.

Your footsteps approaching again makes Alexia turn and you speak directly in her ear.

"And I've got a very special present for you tomorrow when the girls have gone to sleep."

"Oh?"

You giggle right in her ear, low and sultry. "You're going to have a lot of fun unwrapping me for Christmas."

[tojisglazer]

🌟Random JJK Men Headcanons!🌟

Creds to @cafekitsune for all dividers!!

Masterlist

NSFW CONTENT UP AHEAD!!

Includes: Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Shiu Kong (Maybe more characters in the future! Recommend some n’ they might be up here next!…just no minors pls unless it’s for fluff 😭😭)

Not rlly proofread so I’m sorry for any mistakes!!!

Kento Nanami

• Would definitely be a whiner, especially when it’s time to get up in the morning, “Mmm..darlinggg…”, his grip on your waist becoming tighter. “Just five more minutes.. pretty please…?”, how could you possibly deny your sweet husband?

• Kento will always help you with your hair if needed and is always good at it (You don’t know this, but every night while your sleeping, he watches YouTube videos on how to style curly hair in cute styles he knows you’d like).

• Rarely ever cries to you since he doesn’t want you stressing out over him. When he did cry, however, you’d be sure to have him lay on your lap and softly coo at him until he falls asleep.

• Will be the cook of the house. Sure, he’d let you cook a few meals from time to time, but he would prefer cooking for you instead of vice versa. (His food ALWAYS ended up delicious)

“Kento let me cook for tonight please! You cook all the timeee!” You whine as you’re being dragged back to the living room by your husband.

“Please, my love, sit down. I want you to relax this evening.” Kento kisses you on your forehead as he sits you down on the couch. “Dinner will be ready in a few, okay?”

“Tomorrow night Kento, I will be cooking.” You say with a pout on your face, and Kento can’t help but let out a chuckle.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

• When one of your favorite songs of all time play on the car radio, you’d scream the lyrics, eventually luring Kento in to sing with you. He probably wouldn’t know half of the songs you listen to, but he’ll still sing with you if it makes you happy.

• Never calls you by your name unless something serious is going on. Will always call you baby, sweetheart, darling, love, or honey. (Ex. “Love, if you don’t mind, could you get me a sandwich from that bakery I always go to?” “Honey, you’re always so good to me, I love you so much.”)

• Speaking of which, he loves it when you call him sweetie, Ken, or even if you refer to him as “your man”. He gets hard just thinking about it.

• He’s definitely a little pervert. Whenever you’re out the house for a lengthened period of time, he’d use the opportunity to steal multiple pairs a pair of your used underwear and jack off to it in your shared bedroom, making sure to leave his cum right in the center of your panties. Little did he know, however, the cameras in your house caught every second of it.

• Kento would absolutely love to be dominated by you. Just the thought of you riding him and fucking him with your strap until there’s tears rolling down his face just does something to him.

• He’ll beg and whimper to you at any point during sex, the way he looks so pathetic as soon as you have him in your grasp is something indescribable and makes you want more. “Mmh—babyyyy—haah—oh goddd—I’m gonna cumm-”

“L-Love please—please let me—”

“Ooohhhh—can’t hold it b-back, d-darling-“

• We all know this man is an absolute king when it comes to aftercare. Giving you a minute to rest, he goes to your kitchen and brews up some chamomile tea. Afterwards, he runs a warm bath with some rose petals which he knows you like.

Toji Fushiguro

• Isn’t very good at communication due to being raised in nothing but an abusive household. Knowing this, you help him every step of the way, and he can’t help but look at you with hearts in his eyes.

•He’ll hit you with a dad joke at the most random and unexpected times. You could both be showering together and he’d be talking about some, “What do you call two ducks and a cow? Quackers and milk.” They’ll always make you laugh, though.

• Expect Toji to tease you 24/7. For example, if you’re wearing a bonnet, best believe he’s snatching it off as soon as you walk past him, laughing and holding it over his head as you’re trying to take it back.

-SWOOP- All you feel now is a breeze on the top of your head instead of your trusty bonnet. “Toji I swear to God if you don’t stop snatching my bonnet there’s gonna be problems.” You turn to face the man who now has your leopard print bonnet in his big hand.

“Oh please girl,” you hated the way he mirrored your sass. (You didn’t) “Y’r not gonna do a thing to me.” He chuckled, now putting your bonnet on his head.

“Tojiiiii you’re gonna stretch it outtt!” You groaned and hit his chest, yet Toji doesn’t pay you any mind.

“Babyyyyy,” He mimics you, “I’ll give it back under one condition.”

You sigh, knowing the exact condition.

“Jus’ gimmie a kiss, and the bonnet is all yours.”

• His usual go-to of pet names would include: Doll, babe, baby, ma, brat, and princess (Ex. “Babe, you wanna come to this new restaurant with me? Heard they had some good steak.” “Quit bein’ such a little brat.” “Y’look so damn pretty, doll.”).

• Toji brags to his best friend Shiu all about you, much to his annoyance. He boasts about how pretty you are, how smart you are, how big your ass is, and how lucky he is to have you.

• He absolutely loves the way you treat his five year old son, Megumi. You treat the boy as if he’s your own, and Toji can’t help but smile until his cheeks are sore, and even then he wouldn’t stop smiling.

• This man cannot cook for shit. The only cooking he’s doing would be making toast with butter or ordering takeout.

• He’d definitely eat you out of a house and home and take a fat nap afterwards, though. His portions of food would be enough to feed three people. Living with him, you’d have to go food shopping every two days.

• Though he’d never admit it, Toji loves hugs and how you smother him will all kinds of affection. He’d act all annoyed and tough and claim he doesn’t like it, but deep down you both know he eats it up every single time.

•Expect to see dirty gym socks and other clothing attire scattered across your shared bedroom. You’ll tell him to stop acting like a pig and clean up after himself, but it’ll go in one ear and straight out the other.

• Toji has such a praise kink. Whenever the words “good boy” or any other compliment leaves your pretty lips, it’s like he can’t think for himself anymore.

• He loves, loves, loves, having sex in missionary position with you. He loves being so close to you, being able to smell your special scent, and whisper in your ears, “Look how—fuck—look how messy this pretty pussy is for me, ma.”

“Y’r taking my cock so fucking well, baby.”

“Love ya so fucking much, y’know that? Hah—shit—Yeah, y’know that.” while he’s absolutely demolishing your insides. Don’t get him wrong, the man loves tons of sex positions, but missionary will always be his first pick.

• He may not look the part, but Toji whimpers and moans like crazy when he’s about to cum. “Hnghh—ooohhhh—fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—“

• When he cums, expect a bunch of it. It’s so much that it leaks out of your throbbing cunt and onto the light pink bed sheets, leaving a puddle.

• His kind of aftercare would be licking your clit, ridding it of any leftover cum. Afterwards, he’d give you a water bottle and massage any aching body parts. He’d then order some of your favorite take out and you’d both eat it together while watching some corny dad show he found on tv.

Shiu Kong

• You have this man wrapped around your pretty finger. He’ll spoil you rotten. He couldn’t possibly think of saying no to his princess, especially when he has the money to get you whatever you want.

• You will never find yourself in a position where you need to lift a finger whenever he’s around. You’ll get nothing but royalty treatment.

• Shiu absolutely hates it whenever you’re around Toji. He knows Toji wouldn’t do anything, but seeing you even look at him gets on his nerves.

• You wake up to the smell of some freshly cooked bacon and eggs (or whatever else you’d favor) due to him. His day will literally be ruined if he isn’t able to cook for you.

• Whenever you want your hair and nails done, Shiu will give you the money, plus a little extra so you can get yourself something nice.

• Your car will definitely end up smelling like his cigarettes mixed with his signature cologne after a while.

• You practically beg him to teach you a few words in Korean (mostly curse words) since you claims he sounds so sexy speaking it.

“Come onnnnnn,” you whine, following Shiu around the house as he carries the clean laundry in a basket. “Just one word, please?”

“I’ve already said a word, princess, don’t you remember that?” He stops in his tracks and turns to face you.

“Okay—well—one more!” you pout and cross your arms.

“Don’t do that,” Shiu chuckles, then sighs contently. “How could I ever say no to you, beautiful?” Your eyes light up and a big smile is displayed on your face.

“사랑해요, 예쁜.” He whispers in your ear and leaves a kiss on your cheek.

“What’s that mean??”

“It means I love you, pretty.” He cups your face with two hands. You can’t help but giggle and leave a kiss on his lips.

• Like Kento, Shiu wouldn’t call you by your name at all. He hasn’t called you by your name ever since you two first met. Sometimes you wonder if he even knows your name (he does). The names he calls you are: Doll face, love, princess, pretty, beautiful, bunny (Ex. “Did y’want this necklace, princess?” “Let’s go out to eat, doll face.” “You can take it, bunny, can’t you? Yes you can.”).

• Every morning, his head is found in between your legs, licking and sucking at your clit. Every time you try to push his head away due to overstimulation, he says “Come on, pretty, m’just eating some breakfast, gimmie a minute.”

• This man is extremely weak for head. His breathy moans only get louder as he’s getting closer and closer to his climax. “Ohh f-fuck—my love—s-s’close—”

“Y’r sucking s’good pretty—mmh—so fucking good-”

• He’ll immediately return the favor by stuffing your sobbing pussy with his fat cock, thrusting in an unforgiving pace. “H-Hah—you h-hear that? Y’hear how she’s—shit—purring for me l-love?”

“I know you can take it bunny, I know you can—ooohhh ffffuckkkk-”

• After he’s done with you, he kisses your forehead and wipes you down with a warm damp towel. He then massages your plump thighs and kisses your face a bit more. When you’re finally asleep, he goes out to your balcony for a quick smoke.

[lilacxquartz]

love you, need you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: although it couldn’t psychically happen, mr. crawling found himself obsessed with getting you pregnant — themes: smut, breeding kink, needy/clingy behaviour, no dialogue — a/n: via request for a breeding kink imagine with him, hope this is okay! — w.c: 700ish • ao3 • masterlist ♡

Mr. Crawling often doted on you like there was no tomorrow; often lingering in the depths of your shadow like a constantly looming presence. He was always there when you went to bed and was already tethered to your side by the time you woke up. At first, you had no idea what to think, but over time, you grew to love and even anticipate his company.

And lately, his hands kept running over to palm against your bare stomach with an almost thoughtful, wistful stare. He’d press his lips against the soft contours of your abdomen, his cold breath ghosting along your flesh—dreaming of everything could have been—had the two of you been alive.

Such spiralling thoughts left him nothing short of needy and he’d latch onto you with much more fervour than ever before, his touches becoming heated, almost scalding, if even worshipping.

Mr. Crawling subtly crept into such magnitudes of adoration though, starting off real slow and gentle with longing cuddles, pressing lazy kisses into your skin whenever he could. He’d then move on nipping down your collarbone, to your chest, to wherever he could—down to your stomach, to your hips—to the deep apex of your inner thighs.

Slowly, he surrendered himself to you like you were some sort of god, his intentions loud and clear. Nights of professed passion soon passed by on a nightly basis, finding himself pushing—rutting away almost like a man crazed into your core—wanting to experience you again and again.

His hands would drift back to your stomach after a while too, pretending that it all had worked, growing close to crazed at the idea of it somehow being possible. You didn’t mind too much whenever he got this way, though, loving it all the same. There was something special about the way he loved you, after all, and especially so in the way that he fucked you.

And as if right on clockwork, Mr. Crawling settled right beside you in bed, not wasting a single second before he moved to hover over you. His frame towered over yours, easily swallowing you whole with his presence and after a while, he was ready to try again.

His lips crashed against yours and the rest of him settled right into you; your lips shuddering out an anticipated gasp as he positioned the tip of his cock slick into your soaked sex, sliding right into you, thrusting forward as a strained, barely contained whimper choked out of him.

Mr. Crawling always had such a cutely flustered look of focus too, as he succumbed to the sensation of you. His lower lip quivered and his cheeks grew a warm blushed red, barely containing his composure as he drove himself into you. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean not to be gentle as this happened, but it was that you—your body—left him overwhelmed, so he simply just… lost himself in the moment, that was all. The idea in his mind was so intoxicating; the thought of seeing you so perfectly swollen with the aftermath of his love—the concept of what could have been—all pushed him to go harder than he had meant to.

And even though he loved you so, his guilt subsided whenever he caught wind of the pure and utter bliss written all over your face—of your pretty, breathless moans that rolled out in sharp, ragged gasps. As your hands searched for his, interlocking and squeezing hard. As your insides clenched around his girth, feeling yourself come undone all the while he rendered you into a sopping, equally whining mess.

At last, Mr. Crawling violently trembled above you, his body giving way into a brutally recoiled stutter, his moans growing just as loud as yours while riding out the end of a desperate climax. He grunted, squeezing you tight against his body, milking himself directly into your cunt, yet not quite leaving despite how spent he felt.

So obsessed with the thought of filling you up, Mr. Crawling couldn’t bring himself to leave—he loved you so much, after all.

Enough to imagine what could have been.

Enough to believe that it could actually happen.

[enchantress-arc]

I recently learned that a particular sub of mine still had some conditioning from a while back that hadn't been used in quite a while, specifically that she had a bit of a tendency to become incredibly dazed and begin dropping into trance when presented with a cock (though, talking to her afterwards, she doesn't think that this conditioning would activate for most people). I learned this through a tiny bit of teasing on a call, when she saw my wonderful Bitchbreaker through the shorts I was wearing, her eyes rolled back and her tongue came out. Learning that on its own was very interesting. More interesting was just how effective this conditioning was, just how deeply she dropped from such a small tease, from only seeing it through my clothing. Naturally, seeing the effect that already existing conditioning had on her was quite a "blood in the water" moment for me, and, with her permission, I continued. After teasing her a bit more by showing off, it became incredibly clear that she was very, very suggestible in this state. I took my fingers, made a circle, and told her that however far down those fingers were on my girlcock, that's exactly how much she'd feel thrusting into her mouth. With her eyes rolling back and her tongue out, she took that cock like a wonderful, adorable little slut, so much passion and energy pouring into this imaginary girlcock fucking her face over and over and over. When it leaked and I told her to lap it up, she did, she was so empty, so mindless, so focused on serving this perfect Bitchbreaker, and I decided to have a bit of fun, to break my pathetic bitch a little more. I made her choke on it, put the whole thing down her throat as roughly as I could over and over, watched her drop even deeper with every single thrust, and reinforced this particular little piece of conditioning, just a bit, making it stronger, making it apply to my tits as well, making it easier to activate, even if she just saw me playing with either through my clothes she'd begin to feel the effects. Watching her empty little head take all of that new conditioning in with so little resistance as she kept mindlessly serving was absolutely wonderful. And of course, I couldn't just leave things there. I had her listen to me. I told her that, if she did a good job, if I finished in her mouth, she'd simply fall asleep. She'll get a nice little taste of Mistress, of her sweet, irresistible girlcum, and then she'll sleep for me. And she did such a good job, following along, listening, and when I finished, I simply told her to sleep for me. Her tongue twitched, lapping it up just as she had done earlier, and she collapsed onto her bed. I ended up staying in this call with her for a bit after that, just staying nearby, whispering little affirmations, until I was sure she was properly asleep rather than just in trance. Afterwards I left the call, left her a message telling her I hope she had enjoyed herself, and about an hour and a half later, I received a message from her saying that she had woken up covered in drool, and that her memory of what had happened was fuzzy at best, (which is rather interesting because I had never given her any commands related to memory during this, but regardless, it was incredibly cute). I'll admit I haven't done sessions that intense, that explicitly sexual (and especially focused on my own body) very often, but it was very, very fun. Seeing her eyes rolled back for that long, her drooling and sucking on a part that wasn't even really there with so much passion, it was wonderful, and I need to do something similar to her in the future, because the look that adorable, pathetic bitch had on her face made me want nothing other than to find ways to break her in even more.

[ripplestitchskein]

What I loved most about Sinsmas is how well it’s setting up what will be the probable trajectory of Season 3 while resolving the conflicts of Season 2.

Octavia and Blitz are set on a similar path, realizing that Stolas needs more than they can give him, but not because they aren’t enough but because he has a mental illness. This conflict is setup explicitly to tie in with Barbie, Blitz will realize that whatever happened probably wasn’t as much his fault as he thinks, she just needed more than he could give alone. So I stand by the speculation that resolving Stolas and Blitz next season is going to be directly paralleled by Blitz and Barbie but will at the same time bring Octavia and Blitz into an accord.

Stolas will be getting several more reality checks and will spiral pretty hard, but I am holding on to faith that we will get a happy medium between getting proper treatment and reconciling his relationship with Blitz. I think Sinsmas did a great job setting up him as not realizing his continued unhappiness, even though he got everything he wanted with Blitz, is not a reflection on their relationship being ill suited but because he does have a mental illness that he is not treating properly or sharing with those around him. Blitz sidestepping the horse backstory while Stolas pulls back on asking him for help getting his meds was a perfect and succinct way to show this upcoming conflict.

Just excellent visuals with that all around. Blitz being the one to snuggle and try to be close to him while Stolas is the one closed off and refusing to relent was really solid. I would bet on this being the opening imagery of S3, some rehashing of Blitz trying but Stolas remaining closed off and that leading to a split that is slowly repaired over the course of the season, ending with them finally embracing each other.

The subtle cues from the imps of hell during the domesticity montage also great. Just this hatred Hell has for Stolas and how they will have to fight to be together. Like this was echoed in the fight with Andy as well, Stolas succumbing to being swallowed alive by a monster and Blitz going after him. Depression metaphor wow. The fight itself could be echoed in S3 too but this time with them working together.

And then everything with Millie, like her still not being on the same page when it comes to a family with kids while Moxxie and Blitz are opposed. Her reassuring Moxxie that her not wanting this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him, and how that will play through S3.

Seeing Loona taking more responsibilities and stepping in for her father, seeing her with friends excited about board games. Too cute. I don’t know where she’ll go in S3 but I love her development so far and how they’ve taken a quieter approach to her parallels with Octavia and Stolitz.

Just a really great season finale.

[reiyaus]

imagine construction worker! toji being in the crew who’s helping you build your dream home.

visiting every week to almost everyday because it was your only way to see him, the thought of just asking him out never came to mind. you weren’t exactly as slick as you thought, however.

it’s when you only approached him everytime you had a question did he realize you had a thing for him. not that he minded, though. he liked how flustered you’d get when he’d flex his biceps or when he’d grunt extra loud if he sensed you getting near.

the way you took so much time to prepare talking to him was cute too. how your throat bobbed up and down before clearing your voice; gently poking his arm (intentionally) before muttering his name.

toji would pretend not to hear at first, and ask you to repeat until you were practically yelling- only because he liked the sound of his name with your voice.

if honest, he didn’t actually know the answers to half of your questions. like how you didn’t know what the stuff you were asking him about meant anyways. for both of you, it was just an excuse to hear each other’s voices a little longer, and to see each other before your house gets complete.

it’s so obvious to his boss and co-workers that you’re absolutely smitted, like he is with you. it frustrates them when the building process fails to meet the deadline, having to work overtime because of a little work romance.

it doesn’t bother you though. there was nothing wrong with staying at your grandma’s a little longer. and he had no problem ditching his friends to have lunch with you.

yet, when the house does get finished, you felt a sense of loneliness, failing to remember that you can still contact each other outside of work. he becomes gloomy too, but watching you walk around and surveil the interior made him proud to have taken part in making your life better.

you’re about to thank all of them when he pulls you aside and brings out a little flip phone, almost like a bread crumb in his hands. his lockscreen was a low-quality photo (fitting to his ‘old-man’ persona) but 3 figures were you able to make out: two furry friends and one young boy in between.

it takes you some time to realize that the picture isn’t him as a young boy, but rather this child. you glance at him, his face practically sweating bullets and a shaky grin on his lips.

“this probably isn’t the best time to say this but, do you want to go on a date… someday? an actual one this time- i mean. i’ll introduce you to my son, and hopefully we can take things further now.”

[plumipal]

Daughter of evil Vil

Once again a completely self indulgent post, sorry for the delay got a 40° fever and fell like 3 times during the making of this BUT IM FINE NOW! These yans really are out to kill me after all I've put em though lmfao

So imagine, somewhere after chap 5 where vil and you have gotten to know eachother way better since the VDC. You're all and up thinking about the music you loved back from your own home, wishing you just could hear it once again. You basically had everything memorised, but it's not just the same!!

So, taking the matter into your own hands, you contact vil about wanting to stage a musical and if he perhaps wanted to be the "main villian" (aka both the main character and your favorite character). Vil, for once, isn't upset about being the main villain, on the contrary he's ecstatic! He can barely keep his mask up as he tells you that he would LOVE more than ANYTHING to be Riliane...

You're quick to thank him and hug him, him of course savoring every second of it. You're quick to get to work to writing the script/lyrics from memory along with sewing vils dress for him (it's like several dates over at ramshackle for him because he gets to be in such close vicinity with you alone.

The play is an absolute success, vil gives his absolute ALL, just for you, and ONLY for you. He doesn't cate who else is seeing the damn musical, all he cares about at this point is your gave on him and your approval.

He feels your gaze on him for the entirety, too blissful about being the center of your attention to even hold up his social persona incase anyone is filming after the musical. He just can't function correctly when you look at him, when you smile at him, when you do anything really. He's smitten, down bad, in love and everything inbetween.

Ace and Deuce can't stand how Vil is blatantly flirting with you, resulting in them trying to drag you away after the show (only to be stopped by vil, he has charmed you during this performance, and of course he shows in that he has a gift for you back at his dorm.

The gift being smothering you in his love and kisses, almost some sort of cuteness aggression as he can't stop himself. The blood sweat an tears you put into this and how you chose him to be the main character almost moved him to tears after all, you had to be rewarded <3

Not long after the musical, people had sent their gossip photos around to several accounts on magicam as to get some juicy drama our of the megastar. But, at this point, vil is too smitten with you to even care about his social status anymore. He doesn't care about magicam or being better than niege liek he used to. He only cares about you and your approval.

Still a short post, but I hope you all enjoy! I love love LOVE the musical, and recommend yall give it a litsen! The evillious chronicles on YouTube, especially the newer one (Karen aka the girl who plays riliane is just so much more vil coded imo). Anyway hope yall enjoy :P

Link to the song in question: