#okay pls enjoy

[aliciarose-art]

Presenting: Ciel Phantomhive

[sleepytoken]

[jadewritesficshere]

18+only: bondage, begging, humiliation, dom/sub subtext

Just thinking about Eddie messing around with the handcuffs and thinking about what it would be like to be restrained against a headboard since he didn't have one.

Going to your house and using the spare key you have hidden to get inside. You would never know! He'd be in and out. Going to your room and laying on your bed stretching his arms above his head and interlocking the handcuffs with the headboard. Tightening the cuffs so they aren't too tight but they also leave a thin red mark if he struggles against them too much. Not enough to cut him but enough he can see it later and be reminded that he was here like this.

And Eddie is so turned on and he's in your bed and surrounded by your scent he can close his eyes and imagine you laying next to him. He goes to unlock the handcuffs but the angle is weird and he drops the key. He can hear it hit the floor with a clang. Eddie tries to get out but can't. And Eddie's face is flushed from embarrassment and now really isn't the time to learn that makes him a bit harder. All he can do is wait and try his best to not think sexy thoughts and hope his problem goes down.

And then you come in and all you see is Eddie laying on your bed, arms stretched above him. The glint of metal wrapped around his wrists and your headboard like a flashing light. Eddie's face is flushed, a nice red that spreads down his neck. With his arms stretched above his head, his shirt has lifted revealing his stomach. Curls of hair that form under his belly button that trails down and disappears under his jeans. A very prominent bulge in his pants. A very very prominent bulge.

Eddie is simultaneously mortified and horny and he can't help shivering under your gaze. He is literally at your mercy here and if that doesn't make his dick strain harder against his jeans.

And if you come over and slowly trace your fingers up and down his chest, each stroke down getting closer and closer to his jeans. Him lifting his hips up slightly in the hopes that he can get some friction from your hand against him. You scolding him and removing your hand, teasing him. Eddie's whimpers and gasps filling the air, begging you for anything just please touch him. Finally getting some relief when you finally do

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EDYN TIDESTRIDER, CHALLENGER OF THE UNDERSEA, RIVAL OF THE DEEP. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR BROTHER WAS CHOSEN TO BE A WEAPON OF THE GODS? HOW WILL YOU UNDO WHAT THEY HAVE DONE TO HIM?

[ickyguts]

zombie flaky for the soul

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

thinking about how mulder loves to get scully a gift, usually terribly heartfelt, even if disguised as something flippant:

the superbowl vhs tape he brings her when she wakes up from her coma in one breath (and her deadpan "i knew there was a reason to live")

tickets for a football game to watch together in irresistible

bringing her flowers to the hospital in memento mori (he lies, saying he stole them from a guy with broken legs to make her laugh)

the birthday keychain in tempus fugit (and when she finds a meaning to it, he claims "i just thought it was a pretty cool keychain")

that is a man who is always thinking about her.

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[cigar-aficionado]

clean me off, i'm so dirty babe ch. 1

oz cobb x reader / 1837 words / sfw (for now)

summary: you work at a dry cleaner that oz frequents. he's one of your favorite regulars.

tags: gn reader though oz does call them 'doll,' soooo fluffy -- next chapter will be a lil more nasty tho ;)

You’ve been working in the combination dry cleaner and laundromat in the Diamond District long enough to be able to suss out when someone’s a regular businessman and when someone’s…well, not. 

The regular who identified himself as Oz Cobb was, decidedly not. However, you could tell that he wasn’t like the others. 

The first and most obvious sign that threw you initially was that he handled this business himself. Other people whose money came from underground had lackeys, or more typically, lackeys of lackeys to drop off and pick up their clothes. You couldn’t count the amount of times a twenty-something in thrifted boots came in with a stack of $4000 suits. It wasn’t subtle. 

Oz was different, though. His suits were expensive, but it was usually the same set of four or five paired with maybe seven or eight shirts – occasionally there would be a new suit in there, though no more often than a regular-person banker or lawyer or, you supposed, club owner.

He was kind. That was something else that set him apart from most of the other businessmen who came through. Probably most importantly, Oz always tipped you and often it was very well. But his kindness extended beyond that – he smiled when he came in, chatted when you were matching his order slip (which he always remembered to bring) to his clothes, and never rushed you through the scanning and checkout process. 

When he dropped off his clothes, he always pointed out stains he needed work on, apologizing for them (and you, of course, pretended not to know that the stains on his crisp white shirts were definitely blood. You also pointedly ignored how often he came in with shirts splattered with something that was definitely blood.) 

And, unlike a lot of these messy not-businesspeople, his pockets were always empty. You had a habit of running into things that you shouldn’t have tucked in those blazer or trouser pockets, be it cash in hundreds, pills, or occasionally a bullet, which you always put in a small plastic bag to be discreetly tucked into the blazer pocket later. Usually when you saw that same suit again, it came with a massive tip. 

Oz wasn’t messy like that though, he was clearly meticulous with his clothing and his belongings – not like someone who could afford to be careless. 

You grew to look forward to seeing Oz, he and the unmistakable car he always pulled up in were like a breath of fresh air. 

One day, a completely dead afternoon, he came in at around his usual time for pickup. You didn’t need to look at his slip to know where his things were, “Hey Oz,” you said as he walked in, the bell on the door ringing behind him, “how’s your Tuesday?” 

“It’d be a lot better without this heat, I gotta tell’ya. How’re you?” 

You came out with his suits, hanging them on the rack by the counter and catching that he wasn’t wearing one of his usual blazer. You’re not sure you’ve ever really seen his body before this and were you not on the clock you’d probably be blushing, but you maintain professional stoicism, clearing your throat, “I’m alright, it’s been very slow today. Pros and cons, you know.” 

He nods and you take the first suit to scan it in when something catches your eye, “Shit – ah, pardon my language,” you say, hurriedly flipping through the short stack of suits in front of you.

“Everything alright?”

“Ugh, my boss let the new guy do these while I was out and he didn’t crease any of your pants. I’m so sorry, Sir, I can have them done in about twenty minutes if you don’t mind waiting, but I can give you a discount on them if you need to head out. I’m so sorry again.” 

“‘S alright, Doll. Shit happens, ain’t the end of the world.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at it before looking at you with those big brown eyes, “To be honest with’ya? I really don’t feel like going back out there. It’s nice and cool in here, and I got a little time anyway. If you have time to take care of them now, I’ve got time to wait.” 

“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate your uh – “ not being a total asshole about this “ – flexibility.” 

“All good. And you don’t have to call me ‘Sir,’ Oz is fine.” 

“Okay, Oz,” you smile, “I just put on some coffee, would you like some?” 

“Honestly, that sounds wonderful. Thank you.” 

You give him another smile, “You can come get it, it's just to the left here,” you say, pointing to the machine and mini fridge just past the space to get behind the counter. 

He looks at it and laughs a little as he makes his way over, “VIP treatment, unless you’re this nice to all your customers?” 

You chuckle, shaking your head and going to the creaser with his suits, hanging them up on the rack next to it, “You might be the first. But you’re in here like clockwork and you always remember your slip, so you get the privilege of the secret menu.” 

“Well, color me flattered,” You get to work, as does he, and it’s silent until he opens the fridge. “This caramel macchiato creamer thing any good?” 

“Oh yeah, that’s mine, it’s my favorite,” you say, carefully setting the first pair of his pants in the machine. “It’s a little sweet, they do a good job with the caramel, though.” 

“Hm.” You continue to work, practically on autopilot, and you hear him hum happily, “This is excellent, I’ll have to get some for my place.” 

“Good! I’m glad you like it.” He walks back to the waiting area in front of the counter. You work some more before calling out to him, “Any plans this weekend?” 

“Eh, the club’s been real busy lately. Which is great, I’m thrilled about it but you know – doesn't leave a lot of time for rest. Barely been sleepin’. Anyway, I’ll probably be there, keepin’ an eye on things. Gave myself tomorrow off, maybe I’ll try to rest then.” 

“I hope you catch up on your sleep, it’s so important,” you say. “That and self-care, do you get massages?” 

“Not really my thing.”

“Probably no facials either?” 

He laughs, a full yet bright sound, “No facials either.” 

“They’re nice! Especially if you work hard, which I know you must.” 

“Maybe I oughta listen to you, you know coffee. My clothes always look good when I get them back, too.” 

You beam, “I’m so glad to hear that.” 

You work on the rest of his pants, chatting with Oz as you do. It’s easy conversation between the two of you, swapping restaurant recommendations and making other small talk. You’re about to start the last pair and think about asking him out, innocently enough, but then his phone rings and he takes the call. 

He’s speaking Spanish and while you’re not fluent, you were good at it through school so you can understand the gist. Someone close to Oz, especially if his face was any indication, had been found down the street. There’s a brief argument about her medications, about long-term care for her. Oz hangs up with a deep sigh. “Sorry, Doll, that was my shift lead at the club. Needs me in for a really important meeting, completely forgot about it. You know how it is. Would I be able to come in a little later and pick these up?” 

You suspect this isn’t the first time that Oz has lied to you, but it’s the first time you’re able to see it. You turn around and give him a smile, “Absolutely, no trouble at all.” 

“I’ll be back before you close. Thanks for understandin’.” 

True to his word, he does come back in the evening. You weren’t sure if he would; you imagine he has other things on his mind. He looks much calmer than when he left earlier, his smile contagious. “Welcome back,” you say, moving to get his suits. 

“Glad to be back,” he laughs, coming to the counter. You hang his suits on the rack and he breaks the silence, placing a sequined dress on the counter between you. “I’ve got a question for ya, do you do repairs?” 

“What do you need?” You ask, looking at the dress. 

“Well, it needs to be cleaned first, it’s – it’s my sister’s, she asked me to take care of it but I’m not sure something like this can even go in a washing machine. Anyway, there’re some missing sequins – where’d they go…” he murmurs softly as he turns over the fabric until he reaches a small but obvious section of missing sequins toward the bottom, running his fingers over it. “Right here, would you be able to fill in the gap here?” 

You take the dress, looking over the spot and nodding, “Absolutely, that’s no problem. It’ll take a little longer because I think I’ll have to order these sequins and I’ll have to do it by hand – you can with the sewing machine, but I don’t think it looks as nice.” 

“You’re a lifesaver. She was real upset about it, I told her though, I said ‘I know where I can take this and they’ll make it good as new.’” 

You chuckle, “I admire your faith in me. When does she need it back by?” 

“Oh, whenever. I don’t think she’s got anything coming up for it.” 

“Awesome. I can call you with a price estimate once I look at the new sequins.” 

“Sounds good.” 

Oz paid his bill for the rest of his suits, thanking you again. “Today was kinda – didn’t go as well as I’d hoped. But this made it better, thank you.” 

He turns to leave and head for the door but you stop him, calling his name. Maybe it was the way he thanked you, maybe it was his confidence in your skill, maybe it was that he liked the coffee but before you can stop yourself, you’re writing down your number on the back of a dry clean ticket, stepping out from behind the counter. You’ve never really looked at him this closely before, your gaze flickering to the tufts of hair peeking out from the undone button on his shirt. He’s looking at you curiously and you will yourself to speak. 

“Um – “ you clear your throat, handing over the paper “ – that’s my personal cell. In case she needs her dress back early or…in case you want to get dinner sometime?” 

Oz smiles but it’s not one of his customer service interaction smiles – it’s something real, like when he was sipping your coffee earlier. “Well look’it that, you just keep making my night better and better. I’ll text you about plans later tonight, this week’s a little busy but I’m sure I can make some time.” 

You smile brightly, “Perfect. I’ll be around.”

“Have a good night, Doll.” 

[girl-named-matty]

Romance in Hogwarts Legacy - How would it work?

When it comes to romance in the Hogwarts Legacy game, I do not feel like it would have fit at all during any of the storylines. We already have so many and quite a few of them were rushed, unfinished, or had unsatisfactory endings to begin with.

MC is faced with trials, tribulations, and so many other issues throughout the entire game-- I have a feeling that romance is the last thing on their mind. I mean, they're literally having to go through goblins and poachers every other day.

Now, no romance doesn't mean MC couldn't have been like "Oh Sebastian is cute", "Ominis is cute" or "Natty is cute" like take your pick, MC definitely could've had feelings for them; but that's completely up to the creator of the MC.

When it comes to canon, in-game during the storylines, I don't think romance would've fit well at all.

HOWEVER, I completely believe that it would be nice to have some romantic gestures or options after you finish the game (at the very least, the main storyline).

I'm personally completely fine with not having romance in this game since my imagination just allows me to make up for it LOL. But I do think it'd be cute and nice to have options like that.

To my knowledge, there was some romantic gestures put in the game files that were supposed to be in the game but didn't make it to the final cut so I'm thinking something like that.

Okay I'm done yapping now LOL. Lmk your thoughts on this!!! (remember to be kind y'all, this is just a game LOL)

[wildflowercryptid]

florian's always struggled to make friends so he didn't really have any back in galar... uh, actually — it might be more accurate is that he USED to have one...

headcanon explanation + bonus under the cut!

like mentioned above, florian has always struggled a lot with making friends. while he's a kindhearted and friendly kid, he can come across as kinda intense to others, ( especially when discussing his interests, ) and that's led to him often being alienated amongst his peers. though he's grown used to being by himself and has learned to not care if others dislike him, he still hopes that he can find at least a few people to connect with outside of his family. it's a hope that's always been present, ever since he was growing up in wyndon.

of course, he wasn't the only loner amongst his childhood peers. around 7 years old, he found a friend in bede fee, who attended the same primary school as him. bede themself wasn't exactly the friendliest kid out there and often had spats with people who made fun of them for their family's low-income status, but florian managed to get them to warm up to him. the two got along pretty well and found comfort in having a friend that seemed to understand them, both being lonely kids who were often picked on by others. after a while, they became pretty much inseparable as they frequently played, read, and laughed together. to florian, it didn't matter that people picked on him just as long as he had bede there to be his friend. bede shared a similar sentiment... at least, at first he did.

admittedly, florian has a habit of resting on his laurels when it comes to things he doesn't have an interest in improving. ( it doesn't matter if he isn't as good of a battler as his sister, all he needs is to be strong enough to keep himself safe during field research. it doesn't matter if he's ostracized amongst his peers and looked down upon, he's alright as long as he has someone to call a friend. etc, etc. ) bede, however, couldn't keep themself from caring about their place in the pecking order. they were sick of others looking down on them, sick of others thinking they were better than them. they just couldn't understand how florian could stand people treating him poorly without getting angry. over time, frustration and resentment towards his attitude festered inside them. these feelings were only exacerbated by their struggles at home and being sent to the orphanage. while they would still call each other friends, their bond had definitely become strained.

everything came to a head when they were both 11 years old, when rose visited bede's orphanage and his acknowledgement caused a major shift in their personality. after all, someone that important seeing their potential surely meant that they better than their peers, right? they soon became much more pompous and rude in nature. florian still stayed close by despite bede's worsening attitude towards him, but it wasn't before long until all of their pent-up feelings came flooding out. their friendship ended with massive fight, with bede telling florian that they were sick of being weighed down by an " annoying pest " like him. while they expected for him to take their cruel remarks in stride like he always did with everyone else, bede couldn't help but feel a little guilty when florian ran off in tears. the two stopped talking after that fight and ever since then, there's always a worry in the back of florian's mind that his friends will eventually get sick of him like bede did. ( thankfully, the friends he's made since then have helped make him feel a lot more secure in their relationships. )

apologies for the long-winded explanation, here's the bonus i promised to make up for how sad this hc got :

the goofy ass side effect of coming up with this headcanon is realizing that they accidentally shaped each others' taste in guys rip

[static-scribblez]

how if feels to finally make peace with the fact that i’ll never go to a will wood concert even when im no longer a minor (there will never be any europe dates as it’ll be too complicated for him to get a passport due to his criminal record)

[jadewritesficshere]

Pretty

Eddie Munson x reader

Contains: no plot just filth, sub!Eddie Munson, bound hands, edging, slight overstim, cumplay, ass play, aftercare, pet names (Eddie is called Baby), no gender descriptors for reader (your thighs are mentioned but not size or shape just that Eddie finds them beautiful)

This is unedited I wrote this in a blur idk how many words maybe 1k ill add that at a later time

18+ only!

"You look so pretty like this."

Eddie shudders as he feels your breath against the back of his neck. He looks ahead into the mirror, pupils blown wide at the scene before him.

You sit behind Eddie. A saccharine grin on your face. His back is flush with your front, he can feel every inhale and exhale you take. Your beautiful thighs he wants to bite are on either side of his. Your ankles are locked around his, holding him in place. Eddie's hands are bound with his belt, resting on your thigh.

Eddie's shirt is pushed up, belly button piercing glinting in the low light. The red of his piercing matches the red on his face that runs down his neck. If he had his shirt off, you'd be able to see the blush bleed into the top of his chest. He shivers as you blow against his ear.

"Look how pretty you are Eds."

He lets out a whine as your fingers delicately trail his length. His cock is flushed a deep red, almost purple at the top from how turned on he is. Slightly curved to the left, the tip leaking so much cum he's practically glistening. Your fingers ghost over the slit and his hips jump forward, only for your touch to leave. Teasing him again.

It was torture of the best kind. He isn't sure how long you have been teasing him. Tears in his eyes from pleasure and annoyance. Your hand wrapped firmly around him bringing him to the precipice only to let go before he reaches the edge. Tantalizing touches that sway the line of not enough and too much.

"Say you look pretty Baby."

He gasps as your hand wraps firmly around him again, hoping you won't remove your hand again. His nails dig into your thigh, trying to grab hold of anything he can. He can feel your smirk as you press a kiss to where his shoulder meets his neck. "I uh I look pretty," Eddie's voice is raspy.

"The prettiest boy." You murmur. "The fuck the prettiest boy." Eddie whimpers. A tear rolls down his cheek and he watches as you swipe it away. "Color?" You pause. "Green so green please don't stop," Eddie babbles slightly, turning to face you. You smile sweetly as your hand forces his jaw back to facing the mirror.

With your ankles locked around Eddie's, you spread your legs, thus causing his to spread wide open. Its obscene, being fully on display. "Awh," you coo at him, making him whine. Eddie shivers as you slide your hand up and down his shaft, your other hand gently squeezing his heavy balls.

Eddie jumps as you trail your fingers lower. You lightly press against his hole, just enough for him to feel it. It takes him a minute to realize the moan he hears was from himself. His cock leaks another spurt of precum, dribbling down your hand as you continue to jerk him off.

You remove the pressure teasing his hole and swipe up the cum that has leaked onto your hand. You coat your finger with it before pressing against Eddie's tight hole again. Your gently slide your finger in.

Eddie can feel his eyes crossing as his mouth drops open. He can feel you pump your finger in and out of him in tandem with the hand that is stroking him up and down. "Gonna come for me? You look so good baby. Look so perfect like this," you kiss the shell of his ear. Eddie nods, barely able to open his eyes. Barely able to think of anything as he feels the warm pleasure spreading throughout his limbs.

His hips snap up as a loud whine leaves him. His brain goes silent as pleasure comes over him in waves. You never falter your pace, its almost too much as he keeps cumming. It's the hardest and longest he has ever come, it almost knocks the breath out of him. His senses hone in on the euphoria he feels, numbing his mind to everything but the pleasure.

He pants and gasps as he slowly comes back to himself. He's barely aware he's holding onto your thigh with a death grip. "Did so good baby, so good." You murmur. "Uh-huh." Eddie can feel his heart beating in his chest. His limbs feel like jello. He's pretty sure if he tried to stand his legs would shake.

You slowly move out from behind him (wait when did you stop touching him?). Eddie opens his eyes, tracking you as you grab a water bottle and wash cloth on the bedside table. You wet the wash cloth before wiping the cum off him. Eddie tries not to but jumps from still being sensitive. You murmur apologies, as if you have anything to apologize for. If Eddie's tongue didn't feel of lead, he would sing your praises.

You toss the wash cloth away and quickly undo the belt around Eddie's wrists. Even though there isn't a mark, you take your time massaging his wrists and hands. You gently place a kiss on the back of both of his hands. If he wasn't already completely in love with you, that would have done it.

Eddie can barely focus on your words, barely think through how good he feels. He's aware you are holding the water bottle up to his lips and he drinks greedily. You swipe away the water that dribbles down his chin.

Eddie curls into you, head against your chest listening to your heart. You slowly stroke his hair, comforting him. He's aware you're whispering to him, praising him. All he can think about is how loved he feels in this moment. How safe he is in your arms. How he can fully let go and know you have him. How he knows you love him with your whole being, just as he loves you.

[redacted-thething]

oh my god im so fuckjng sorry i've bin severely slacking off on mt casuality textp osts and for what?? my gucking job???? i'm so fucking soery

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[witchydykebitch]

Autism hyperfocus + sheer horniness over hands = some sexy hand paintings

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.