#the difference was that he KNEW. he KNEW that he was doing it. maybe he wasnt self aware enough to understand. but it was a conscious

[charliemwrites]

Part 2!

Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.

Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)

Agatha is over again.

You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.

A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.

Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.

“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.

You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.

“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.

She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.

“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”

People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.

“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.

Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”

You blink. Men…?

A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)

Ah. Those men.

“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”

It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.

“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”

You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.

“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.

“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”

Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.

“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”

That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.

“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”

You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.

Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.

“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”

You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.

“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”

She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.

Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.

It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.

Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.

“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”

And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.

And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.

Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.

Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.

“So… the cookies were good then?”

“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.

“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“

“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.

Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)

“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.

You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”

He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”

Well shit.

“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”

Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”

It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.

There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.

Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.

You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.

Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.

You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.

“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.

He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.

“What happened?” he asks.

You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.

“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”

You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.

“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.

Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.

“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”

When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.

“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”

With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.

You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.

“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.

He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”

You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”

“Nein,” he snorts.

Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.

There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.

“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”

“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”

You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?

It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.

“Are you guys military?”

“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.

You perk up. “Wait, really?”

He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”

You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”

He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.

“Yes,” he answers slowly.

“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”

His eyes narrow. “Questions?”

You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”

Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.

He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”

You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”

He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.

“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”

“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.

You beam. “Thank you!”

He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.

“What else needs doing?”

Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.

Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.

You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.

Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.

You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #cod krueger #sebastian krueger #konig #konig cod #cod nikto #polyamory #bad neighbours #men at work

[1d1195]

Traditional - Extra VII

Read Traditional here | ~4.1k words

Warnings: smut. 18+ only. oral (m), sex, maybe public if you believe enough. Otherwise, it's kinda fluffy

From me: idk I think Harry can be a little TOO self-loathing. And he is really so sweet and nice overall. I think he deserves some TRADITIONAL sugar-daddy CEO treatment.

Summary: Harry is a lot calmer now that the client fiasco is over. But he's still on edge. Fortunately, she has an idea to take the edge off.

Harry was much more pleased with the direction of his company now that the biggest crisis of his career was finally in the rearview mirror. Now that her arm was healed and his clients were stable, everything was much better.

Except Harry didn’t fully accept it.

It was like there was a little worm in his brain that ate at him and whispered directly into the auditorial processing space that something, at any moment, would go wrong. The other shoe would drop and he would be back at square one.

“Baby?” She interrupted his thoughts of worthlessness and impostor syndrome. God he needed to see someone. But when was there time? “I asked about dinner, it’s Monday,” she reminded him gently. His mind reeling but he wanted to focus on her.

He wasn’t angry. For the first time in months. It felt like that for everyone around him. It created an entirely different vibe in the office. People weren’t scared during meetings. He didn’t slam his phone down when something was late.

But she noticed how withdrawn he was because she knew him.

“Are you alright?” Her voice wasn’t accusatory. It was still quiet. Like she was a little afraid she would set him off. But he hadn’t bought new electronics in months. The accounting department joked they would get to decrease the furniture budget this quarter as it closed. Harry couldn’t do anything but laugh because it was true. It was the first time he felt at ease since the mess happened.

It was awful.

“M’fine,” he smiled gently at her. It was their daily meeting. The one Harry didn’t even know they had until he saw it written on her calendar back when her cramps made her sleep through it. But he knew she didn’t believe his hand-waving denial. He wasn’t fine, she knew it.

“Okay,” she sipped her drink and eyed him suspiciously.

He was looking at the papers on his desk and every little negative number made his heart skip a beat.

This wasn’t healthy.

“Are you sure?” She asked again.

That wasn’t helping him either. How perceptive she was and knowing exactly what he was feeling. It was almost annoying that she could do it. All he wanted to do was hide his feelings from her the way he was supposed to, and she made it so difficult.

God, she was perfect.

He nodded silently, not looking up at her because if he did, she would read him like an open book. She would praise him and tell him he was perfect. He didn’t want that. It was stupid, but he needed to believe it himself. It was partially his own fault. Styles Inc. suffered very few hiccups other than getting up and running. Back when he had just graduated, and he had stuffed every penny he had into the two offices he and Niall needed to get started. It grew before his eyes. He believed he was important and doing important things. He knew he was talented and doing well.

Almost having to fire her was the worst wakeup call.

“Harry,” her voice broke his thoughts again.

“Yeah, kitten?” He hummed trying to admire the green numbers on the spreadsheet before him. They were large and lovely. The red ones amounted to next to nothing in comparison. But it didn’t matter. They were terrifying.

“Baby, I just asked you if you think I should go out for drinks with a client that keeps hitting on me so that we can get a bigger contract from him, and you said that was a good idea.”

His head snapped up. Jealousy pierced his heart and ran hot through his blood in seconds. “What client hits on you?” He scowled. They were dropping said client. Effective immediately. Not even feeling like an impostor would deter him from that kind of behavior. It wouldn’t matter if they were his biggest client either. If they were hitting on her—

“You really think a client would be stupid enough to hit on me knowing you’re my boyfriend?” She asked a slight smirk on her lips.

He ran a hand over his face. Of course they wouldn’t. Harry had a scary side, and everyone knew it. If they even tried to flirt with her Harry would probably break their neck. The little jealous monster inside of his head was more powerful than the worm that told him he wasn’t talented, and he could lose it all at a moment’s notice.

And he hated that word lately. He needed to add another reminder on his phone to remedy that immediately as well. Boyfriend. It was so childish sounding. He was a successful businessman, and he had a gorgeous girlfriend who made him feel like... well... like he deserved to own such a successful company. Fiancé. Husband. That had a nicer ring to it. He needed to fix that soon.

“Harry,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You’re staring at me,” she was blushing. Looked away as she sat in the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.

He sighed and smiled tiredly. “Course,” he really looked at her again, not just spaced out like he had been doing. The way her hair fell, the way her lip gloss coated her straw. The way her nail polish chipped—he would send her for a manicure (with Eleanor so she’d actually go) even though she preferred when Harry painted them—hence the chipping.

Harry was so captivated by her. It did seem like a crime that he hadn’t given her his full attention during their coffee break. Part of him thought she should model for offices or office furniture. It was sexist and lizard-brained of him. But she was so pretty it was the only thing he could think of in that moment. Then he considered the notion of her being a professor or a doctor—even though he knew she wasn’t qualified for it. But it didn’t matter. He suspected she could do it without training. She was too lovely. The fact that she was intelligent and beautiful and nice was unfair. He didn’t deserve something so good when he could lose the biggest reason she was in his life. “You’re so pretty, kitten.”

Her cheeks turned red again. Harry thought he would explode. “Don’t change the subject.”

“M’not,” he pouted. She did the cute little nose wrinkle that made Harry’s heart skip a beat the same way the negative numbers on spreadsheets did but this time he didn’t mind.

“Your brain has been elsewhere during this whole meeting—”

“Can y’please stop calling it a meeting, kitten?” he grumbled. It felt so wrong to call it a meeting when he was in love with her. Like he needed a corporate excuse to have her sit in his office.

“Pretenses, baby. Don’t want anyone to know I’m your second favorite.”

He grunted, running a hand over his face as the irritation sank in again because of her words. “Niall is not m’favorite.”

She smiled impishly. Her cheeks looked like little apples that Harry wanted to kiss and take bites out of. Her eyes danced with mischievousness that he thought she could only have learned from Louis.

He loved her so much.

Which was why he was so mad that he was worried. If this company suffered the thought of letting her down, of telling her that he wasn’t successful anymore. He met her only because he did well and was successful. How would she love him if that wasn’t true anymore?

“Harry, I’m going to drag you to the hospital if you don’t tell me.”

“Can we talk ‘bout it at home?”

She frowned. “Oh, it’s not work related?” She asked.

He shook his head, confused as to how she would conclude such a thing. “What do y’mean?”

“Well... if it was work-related, you would tell me now. You only tell me relationship-related things at home. Which means now I have to go back to my office and conference call Louis and Eleanor and pull Niall from his work so we can discuss where I’m going to live because you can’t take the sound of me singing in the shower anymore. What’s worse is Louis will agree and he won’t want me to live with him and Eleanor either. Then I’ll have to find my own place and it won’t have room for a porch swing and—”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kitten, shut up,” he sighed. She smiled sweetly, unperturbed by the way he said it because he sounded exhausted with her, which was almost definitely her goal. He knew she liked to annoy him—even when he was already suffering internally.

“I don’t want to say it’s your fault, baby. But if you would just tell me what—”

“I don’t feel successful.”

She tilted her head at him curiously. “You don’t?”

He shook his head feeling the nerves in every inch of his skeleton. Right down to the bone. Past the bone. Probably to the atoms or even further to each proton and neutron. Telling her made it real. Telling her anything meant he had to deal with what he was feeling because she wouldn’t let him brush it away.

She was about as bad as the worm in his head.

“Okay,” she nodded. Then there was silence.

They stared at each other for a significant moment. Harry thought it could have been ten minutes, but it might have only been ten seconds. “You’re not going t’say anything?” He asked.

She shrugged. “I could,” she smiled gently. Almost pitifully. It made Harry feel the slightest bit worse. But then she made it better. Of course she did. She made everything seem so... simple. In the best way. A point of view he hadn’t considered. “I could ask you why. Or tell you how it’s not true—all of which I do believe. But I actually think it’s kind of more serious than that. I think you went through a really difficult thing. It piled and piled and you dealt with it. More than anyone here. Because you care and love this place with everything in you,” she listed. “I think you’ll need to talk to someone more qualified than me to fully deal with it. But I will list every reason why you’re completely, totally, and simply wrong another time. When you’re not so sad looking and it won’t fall on deaf ears,” she assured him with a pointed expression that he had fallen in love with so many times over it was uncanny.

Had he mentioned he loved her so much?

“Oh,” he murmured.

She stood up, moved around his desk and leaned against the edge in front of him. Her eyes didn’t move from his and she brought a hand to his face, traced the curve of his jaw, the soft pink lips she loved so much. “Why are you worried you’re not successful?” She asked.

She really knew where to hit him where it hurt. “Y’won’t love me...if m’not successful.”

“Harry,” she cooed. “Baby—”

“I know,” he turned into her hand and kissed the center of her palm. “But I... I only met y’because m’successful. If m’not... then...”

“You know I don’t love you because you have money, right? We’ve been over this.”

“I know,” he nodded. “Really, I do. But s’like...there’s something in m’brain, kitten. I can’t turn it off and m’exhausted. After all that... I mean... y’saw. It was reallybad. Like really bad. M’still kind of worried and—what are you doing?”

“Turning your brain off,” she smiled, full of mischief once more as she slunk down to her knees. She wiggled into the space of his desk where he normally pushed his chair in. “Surely you’ve thought about this?” She asked, her hand sliding up his thigh.

Harry was suddenly illiterate. And mute. What was she talking about? Were they talking about something? The only thing he could hear was his uneven breath and the clinking sound of his belt and zipper. “Oh,” he groaned as her lips mouthed at the outline of his dick against his briefs.

“Cause I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

“You have?” He murmured dumbly.

She nodded, looking up at him from between his legs, crammed under his desk. It was a fantasy he hadn’t even imagined before thirty seconds prior and there she was: making it come true. Her lashes seemed so long, and her hand was massaging him through his underwear. His heart was pounding. All thoughts of negative numbers were gone.

She deserved a raise.

Her fingers hooked around his underwear, and she tugged on them, pulling him free. He didn’t even realize he was straining against the fabric. Within seconds her lips enveloped around him, and she sucked quickly. Hard. Everything was warm and wet instantly.

Harry had done this before with the companions he had found on the very website he found her, but he wished he never had because this was her. She was so perfect. She was everything he wanted. She was beneath his desk making him feel important and it was so ridiculous for him to feel that way but it worked. It was working.

Her mouth was meant to be around him. At least that was the way it felt. It never felt like this. She didn’t even care about herself. Which was fine because Harry would return whatever she gave him now plus interest. For the first time in a year, he felt utterly relaxed. Her head bobbing up and down the length of him. He put a hand on the back of her head, and she moaned softly sending a vibration through him and up to his chest. His cheeks felt hot. Not that he was embarrassed. But it was so much rapid blood flow. Everywhere. He was going to lose his mind.

There was a knock on the door.

She froze but didn’t remove her mouth from him. Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, carefully tucked himself further the edge of his desk without bumping her too much or crushing her. “Yeah?” He called tentatively.

Her lips focused on the tip of him making him struggle to maintain his composure.

“She’s not here?” Niall frowned from the doorway.

Harry shook his head staring at the screen trying not to let his best friend know that his girlfriend and Niall’s very favorite coworker was crammed beneath his desk and sucking him for all he was worth. Even though Niall was right there. “Ran an errand,” her tongue slid down the underside of him silently. He cleared his throat, shifted. Hoping she wouldn’t torture him in front of his best friend. When did she get so brave?

Oh. Traditional. That’s what that meant. Harry thought to himself.

“When she gets back can you ask her where the file from yesterday’s meeting is? I don’t want to mess with her organizational system,” she dug her nails into his thigh not very hard but so her presence was known. As if the thought of Niall messing with her system really was the worst thing he could do in that moment.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t,” Harry chuckled. But the movement made him shift in her mouth which nearly sent him cross-eyed. He cleared his throat again.

“You okay? She’s been worried about you.”

“M’fine,” he rolled his eyes.

She silently sucked harder as if to prove a point. Moved him further down her throat. Harry took a deep breath to maintain any semblance of control he had left over the situation. Which was very little.

“I like that she worries about you.”

“It’s unnecessary,” Harry muttered. To both of them.

“When are you going to marry her?” Niall asked.

That paused her. She released him, peered up through those sinful lashes and smiled more mischievously than he had ever seen. Harry shifted. Silently and blindly lining himself up with her mouth again to keep her from saying I knew it or just generally giving herself away in front of Niall. She obligingly took his length down her throat again and it was a miracle she didn’t make a sound with the amount of spit lodged in her mouth. “Soon,” he assured Niall.

“She left her cell in the office,” he said. “Hopefully she’s with the driver or something.”

“Yeah, I called for him,” he wanted Niall out. “What time are we teeing off tomorrow?” He asked the last bout of normalcy he had left in him. Her lips were dragging so slowly over him it felt nearly painful. The moment Niall left he was going to come.

“Nine fifteen.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be by later for the new account model for—” He coughed as her fingers danced along the inside of his thighs, reaching for the space of his cock that didn’t fit in her mouth as well as underneath— “Excuse me,” he covered his mouth over the fake cough before dropping his hand to his lap—her head—and pushed ever so slightly toward the back of her throat. Fortunately, his phone rang. Niall nodded waving him off; allowing him to tend to his phone call—that he was not going to answer.

“I got it,” he assured him and closed the door.

Harry yanked from her mouth, shoved from the desk, barely pulling his pants up at all. He hurried across his office to twist the lock on his door. Once turned around, she was already there, knelt before him again and sucking him into her warm mouth again. Sucking hard. It was probably loud. Wet. Anyone that happened to be by his door at that moment would know what was happening on the other side. Maybe they would make a rumor. Maybe they would assume it was her—neither of which Harry wanted. “Not here, kitten,” he groaned quietly and lifted her begrudgingly from her knees. He pulled her toward the bathroom. He briefly thought of the first time he was in there with her, knelt himself, to take her shoe off and Louis and Eleanor assumed he was prepared to do something he loved doing to her and strongly considered doing it again. Just as he lifted her bum onto the counter she stopped him.

“Nope,” she slid down again. Knelt once more. “Said it was turning your brain off,” she reminded him. Her lips around his dick once again. Now, with an office separating them from the rest of the company, she openly slurped. Made obscene noises that would satisfy him just fine on business trips where he didn’t get to take her with him and leave him with nothing but fantasies before falling asleep in a lonely hotel room. He slammed the bathroom door shut just for further privacy.

He groaned lowly, meeting the bob of her head as gently as he could so as not to cause her to struggle but enjoying the warmth of her mouth and throat. Her lips looked so sexy around him he wasn’t going to last much longer at all. “Love,” he tilted his head back. “Y’need to—”

“Shh,” she pulled back, pressing the most chaste of kisses along his length which was an oxymoron. “Just worry about you,” she hummed. “Please?”

Harry groaned his hands gathering her hair at the back of her head as she slipped her mouth down as much of him as she could take and it felt so good it made him

“Aw fuck, kitten, s’good,” he groaned and held her in place as he released in her mouth. His breath was ragged, his hips stuttering slightly. She continued sucking even though it was sensitive. Even though it was more than he deserved.

“Do you really think I would stop loving you because you didn’t have money?” She asked, fluttering her lashes. Voice the slightest bit hoarser.

He lifted her from her knees, putting her on the counter again and shoved her dress up to her hips. Thank God she wore a dress. “This underwear is ripped,” he grumbled.

She frowned. “It is? It’s my favorite I didn’t notice a rip when I put them on this mor—”

But she didn’t realize he was predicting the future. He pulled on the nylon cotton blend with so much force her already hoarse voice died in her throat. He groaned, tossing them on the floor. He lined himself up with her entrance and brought her bum to the edge so the sharp corner dug into her flesh. It would leave a bruise and the only thought that was left in her head was that Harry would kiss it and make it better later.

His length slid inside her so effortlessly. She should have been embarrassed how turned on she was sucking him off—especially when Niall got to the office but she couldn’t help it. Now the length that had felt so good in her throat was making her core ache. He thrusted into her quickly. Hardly letting her breathe or realize what was happening, but it felt so good. She was moaning into the curve of shoulder. Clinging to him. “Baby, I—”

“S’good kitten. S’good. I love you so fucking much,” his hips were relentless. All thought escaping her mind. A fire could have broken out in the shower and she wouldn’t have moved—couldn’t have moved.

“Oh wow,” she sighed as Harry pulled her closer to him—her legs wound around his waist. Her butt barely on the counter. Her eyes fluttered with each thrust. “Oh, oh my God,” she moaned. “You’re—”

“Gonna come on m’cock, kitten,” it was a question. Or a command. She didn’t know. It was both. Neither. Part of her wondered if he even said anything.

But she did. She did come on his cock. Hard. She fluttered around him for what felt like minutes. Hours. Centuries. Color ceased to have meaning. There was no sound. That was heaven. She was sure. A blasphemous thought that she didn’t even have the strength to laugh about because she was deliriously good.

Her voice was hoarser than only moments before. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her breath shaky as he pushed her further back toward the mirror at the end of the counter behind the sink. Further from him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she could only imagine what he had done to her hair. But his pupils were massive. His lips pinker than ever. His chest heaved.

Clearing her throat, she gently tucked him back into his pants. Then tucked in his shirt too. With the same delicateness as she did with his cock. It was intoxicating. Made him want to go another thousand rounds with her. “So, in conclusion,” she whispered. “I will love you whether you have a kajillion dollars or one dollar,” she looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“That was very sexy, kitten,” his eyelids practically fluttered.

“I...” she cleared her throat. “I surprised myself, actually.”

“We should do this more often,” he pulled her skirt down and brought her closer to the edge of the counter again. She hissed at the contact against the bruise that was definitely forming. He frowned. “Oh, love m’sorry,” he cupped her face and gazed at her. “Was I too rough? I shouldn’t have—”

“Harry, if I didn’t fear for the stability of my leg muscles I would probably bend over your desk for you.” He swore under his breath. “You did bruise my butt though.”

“No good deed,” he mumbled and lifted her gently from the counter. His hand cupping her backside and gently rubbing each cheek as if it were normal. But it felt normal.

She nuzzled into his chest and sighed contentedly. “Niall’s going to see right through me,” she murmured.

“I’ll fire him again if he makes y’uncomfortable.”

She snorted and laughed, tilting her head up to look at him. “You are my favorite person Harry Styles. I love you so much. Even if you ruined my favorite pair of underwear.”

He smiled as mischievously as she had earlier in the day. “I’ll buy you more...a hundred pairs of them. Then I’ll ruin them all again,” he promised, then pressed his mouth firmly against hers. A gentle, soft kiss in comparison to all they did in the span of half an hour. “I love you too.”

She grinned. “Say it again.”

He shook his head at her, kissed her forehead, effectively turning her to mush, which was probably his plan so she couldn’t deny his next request. “Stop calling our coffee break a meeting.”

But her senses were returning. The ones that weren’t primal and horny about how massive Harry’s dick was in her mouth. She was going to say something funny; he could see it in the glint in her eye. “Well, I can’t put ‘sex’ on your calendar now can I?”

--

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[andshesaidwhat]

Steamy - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: Sam has been your best friend since you were kids. When he starts avoiding you and acting strange, you decide to take matters into your own hands and things get steamy…

Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, penetrative sex, shower sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (Sam receiving), handjob (Sam receiving), teasing, voyeurism, masturbation (Sam receiving), inexperienced!Sam, Sam finishes too fast, multiple orgasms (Sam receiving), thigh-fucking, nipple play?, slight dacryphilia, subby!Sam, edging, Sam whimpers a lot, maybe a smidge of degradation, Sam is down-horrendous.

A/N: This is ridiculously long, I got carried away.

Masterlist

Sam rested his forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall as he relentlessly fucked his fist. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to block out the guilt as his mind raced with perverted thoughts.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He hadn’t intended on showering in your bathroom as an excuse to touch himself. You had just decided to wear one of his old t-shirts today and that…that had sent him over the edge.

Sam had been fighting off these feelings for a long time. If he was honest with himself, they’d always been there. When you were kids, it was easier. He didn’t understand the mechanics of all of it. He just knew he liked being around you more than anyone else, so he spent all the time he could with you. You were best friends, after all. That was normal.

Then, puberty happened. You developed tits and he developed an innate need to see them, touch them, taste them, anything.

It was harder now. You were both in college and still spending all of your time with each other. Every waking moment of Sam’s was spent thinking of you, watching you, imagining all of the ways he wanted to be with you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be your friend — he loved being your friend. You were the only person in the world that ever actually saw him for who he was. It was just that he couldn’t escape these desires that grew stronger and stronger every time you smiled at him or batted your lashes or laughed or…

Yeah, he was fucked.

He knew that he needed to get his feelings for you in check. His biggest fear was doing some dumb shit to lose you. That’s why he’d been trying to create just a little distance lately. He only resorted to that when he felt like he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. It just so happened that, lately, that was almost all of the time.

When he’d gotten to your place today, he had told himself that he wouldn’t let his attraction get the better of him — that he’d be normal — but, the minute he saw you in his shirt he felt like he could’ve melted into the earth. It was so cute, hugging your frame perfectly and just barely covering those tight ass shorts you had on underneath.

He’d tried to contain himself, he really had. He tried looking anywhere else but at you, tried thinking of every unsexy thing his mind could possibly dream up, but his efforts were all in vain. No matter what he did, his gaze would eventually wander back over to you. His mind would run wild with different scenarios. You in his shirt with nothing underneath. Him bending you over, lifting the material up just enough to take you from behind. Giving you more of his clothes to wear so that everyone knew you were his.

He hadn’t even realized how painfully hard he had gotten or how labored his breathing had become until you asked, “Are you alright, Sammy?”

Fuck, he almost came in his pants from the sweet sound of your voice as you said his nickname that he only allowed you to call him.

He felt his face flame as his eyes widened and he pulled the covers from your bed further over himself to make sure his erection was hidden.

“Y-yeah, fine,” he sputtered, trying to will himself to get a fucking grip.

“Are you sure?” You asked, reaching your hand out to touch his forehead. “You look flushed.”

He had to fight not to moan as your skin came in contact with his, so soft and tender. Your eyebrows were scrunched up in that adorable way they did whenever you were worried about him.

He wanted to see them scrunched up for other reasons, for all the pleasure he knew he could give you if you let him try. He wanted to hear you say his name like a plea of desperation, begging him for more, more, more.

“I think I just need to take a shower,” he muttered, quickly getting up and rushing to the bathroom before you could see any evidence of his arousal.

He paced in the bathroom, fisting at his hair as he tried to calm down. This was getting a bit pathetic. He couldn’t even be in the same fucking room as you without being embarrassingly close to coming untouched.

He stripped down, tossing his clothes to the floor as he stepped into the shower and shut the glass door behind him. He turned the water on to the coldest setting, cringing as he stood beneath it.

C’mon, this needs to work, he thought to himself as he shook from the cold. The icy water caused goosebumps to erupt on his skin, but did nothing to calm the raging hard-on that was still standing proud and aching. He groaned in frustration, hitting his head against the wall as he tried his best to fight off his arousal.

Finally, he gave in and wrapped his fist around his cock. He gave himself a few slow, guilt-ridden strokes as he squeezed his eyes shut. He hissed at the feeling, relief slowly flooding through his abdomen.

He knew that he shouldn’t be doing this. Touching himself to the thought of you was already bad enough, but touching himself to the thought of you while you were in the next room? If only you knew how fucked up he truly was. You’d never look at him again…

He fought the urge to moan at the thought of your hand replacing his, or better yet — your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as he thrusted into his hand.

He needed to get this over with. He needed to handle his problem and get back out there before you started to suspect that something was wrong.

He was desperately chasing his release but, despite how badly he wanted it, his own touch wasn’t getting him there this time.

He needed more.

You had worn his shirt on purpose.

You were tired of him avoiding the situation — avoiding you.

It hadn’t taken you long to figure out why he’d been acting so strange lately. You’d noticed the way his eyes would linger on your form, the way his face would flush when you called his name, the way he’d try to discretely adjust himself in his pants when you’d get too close to him.

You’d always wondered why he’d never had a girlfriend. It wasn’t that girls didn’t desire him. He had just always been oblivious to their advances.

In actuality, you’d realized, he was just too focused on you.

You’d always harbored feelings for Sam. Ever since you were kids. He was your first childhood crush. You’d never told him, though, too scared that he’d tease you relentlessly for it. It wasn’t until lately that you realized those feelings had been reciprocated. 

Once you’d made the realization, you’d started trying to push him further and further. You’d hoped that he would snap, finally admitting to you what he’d been feeling.

He never did, though. In fact, he did the opposite. He kept avoiding you, frustrating you to no end.

You huffed out a sigh, looking over at the clock on your bedside table. He’d been in the shower for almost twenty minutes. You gnawed on your lip, contemplating your next move.

Finally, with a newfound determination, you got up from your bed and walked toward your bathroom. You were tired of waiting for him to get the hint. He’d left you no choice. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

You opened the bathroom door, shutting it behind you as you called out, “What’s taking you so long in here, Sammy? I have to shower, too, ya know?”

Sam yelped, startled at your entry. You could only barely make out his figure behind the frosted glass, but it made your heart race nonetheless.

“J-Jesus, don’t you knock?” Sam sputtered, his voice laced with nervous energy.

“It’s my house,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink.

You heard Sam sigh before he said, “I’ll be out in a minute just…give me a second.”

You began undressing before you could talk yourself out of it. This was a bold move, even for you, but you knew that Sam needed something to be shoved in his face for him to realize what was right in front of him.

“You’ve already been in here for twenty minutes and I have things to do later,” you grumbled, pretending to be inconvenienced. “I’m just coming in.”

“W-what?!” Sam stuttered, his voice nearly jumping up an octave.

You opened the glass door, stepping into the shower as you tried to appear nonchalant. Sam quickly covered himself with his hands, his entire body flushing red as he looked up at the ceiling to avoid looking at your naked frame.

You took this time to unabashedly look him over. His cupped hands only left little to the imagination. You bit your bottom lip, drinking in the sight of him. Arousal immediately began pooling between your thighs as you stepped underneath the water.

You yelped at the temperature, jumping back and adjusting the valve.

“Christ, Sammy, why the hell is it so cold in here?” you asked, despite knowing exactly why he’d been taking a cold shower.

“I-I just like it cold, okay?” Sam retorted, attitude biting with his words.

You turned the knob until the water ran hot, letting the steam fill the confines of the shower. You sighed, contentedly, stepping back under the water.

“Much better,” you breathed, practically moaning as the warm water washed away the tension in your muscles.

As the steam filled the air, Sam’s head was spinning. It was suffocating. He was surrounded by your scent. It took everything in him to keep his eyes glued to the ceiling. Even the glimpses he caught of your body from the corner of his eye were nearly enough to make him fall to his knees.

He had a difficult enough time keeping it together around you when you were fully clothed, how could he be expected to keep his composure when you were naked and wet a foot away from him?

He could feel his still-hard cock pulsing beneath his hands as he tried his best to cover himself. He felt like he’d somehow entered one of his wet dreams. Confusion and arousal fogged his mind as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The two of you had never even seen each other naked, much less showered together.

He refused to let himself believe that this could mean that you wanted him the same way he wanted you. He wouldn’t give himself that kind of false hope. He could only pray that he’d be able to get through this without making a complete fool out of himself.

You reached for the shampoo, lathering it into your hair. You smirked when you heard Sam breathe in a little too deeply. Glancing back at him, he still had his head facing toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to break your neck trying not to look at me,” you laughed, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “It’s not like you’ve never seen tits before.”

“I’ve never seen yours…” Sam mumbled, quietly, a new blush rising to his cheeks.

“Mine are just like any others,” you shrugged, brushing your conditioner through your hair with your fingers.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from responding that nobody could be like you. He was fighting so hard to keep his gaze averted but now you were practically inviting him to look at you. Even on his strongest day, there was no chance he could pass up the opportunity. He’d just look once, he told himself. Just enough of a glance to embed the image into his brain for when he jacked himself off to the thought of you.

He took a deep breath before stealing a quick look over at you. He involuntarily squeezed his dick, trying not to come on the spot. None of his fantasies could’ve prepared him for the way you’d look standing naked in front of him, water dripping from your body.

He forced himself to look up at your face instead of your tits — your goddamned perfect tits — but that didn’t help his situation in the slightest. Not when you were smirking at him like you were privy to some secret that he was not. Or when you were batting your lashes, sending water drops down your cheeks. Then you bit your lip and Jesus fucking Christ he felt every cell in his body burn at the sight.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the way his eyes fought between looking at your face and looking at your chest. You could sense the stress he was putting himself through, and almost felt bad for what you were doing. You weren’t going to stop, though. Not when you finally had him right where you wanted him.

You moved to grab the bottle of soap, intentionally letting it fall from your grasp. Out of instinct, Sam reached out to catch it. You gasped quietly at the sight of his erection springing forward into view.

He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. He was hard and leaking, his tip red and aching. He followed your gaze down, his eyes widening as he realized what you were looking at. He quickly handed you the bottle of soap back, moving to cover himself again.

“You know,” you started, smirking as you poured the soap into your hand, “if you need to take care of that, you can. I don’t mind.”

“W-what?” Sam coughed, his face a deep shade of red. “No! No way.”

“It’s natural, Sammy,” you shrugged. “I do it all the time. Besides, it looks real painful. I won’t watch if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sam wanted the earth to swallow him whole in that moment. He didn’t think his skin could burn any hotter than it was right then. You were teasing him, torturing him.

He didn’t know which part was worse — the way you said his name, the mental image of you touching yourself, or the attention you had paid to his predicament. His body felt like it was going to erupt into flames at any given moment.

You had to know. You had to. There was no way that all of this was just some random coincidence. The two of you had never breached that line of friendship and now, here you were, telling him to touch himself in front of you.

He couldn’t do that. There would be no coming back from that. There would be no way that he could recover. He’d come the minute he touched his dick if your eyes were on him, and how would he explain that?

However, you had said you wouldn’t watch…and he did really really need the relief…

Sam bit his bottom lip, breathing heavily as he contemplated his options. He knew that he shouldn’t, but the offer was so tempting…

“You promise you won’t watch?”

Your smirk grew as Sam gave in to his desires, just like you knew he would. You crossed your heart with your finger and Sam squeezed his eyes shut as his gaze was unintentionally brought back down to your chest.

Giggling, you turned back around to face the other side of the shower. You didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes travelled down to your ass as you did. You began lathering the soap into your skin as you heard the wet sounds of his fist stroking his dick over the hum of the shower.

You bit your lip, focusing on the way he let little breaths escape him. You could imagine how hard he was trying to refrain from making any other noises. You wanted to hear him, wanted to know exactly how he was feeling.

Curiosity and the need to push him further getting the better of you, you asked, “Are you always this quiet when you jack off?”

He sucked in a breath and sputtered, “Jesus, fuck, you…you can’t talk to me right now.”

You stifled a giggle, feigning innocence as you said, “Why not, Sammy?”

“Don’t say my name,” he practically pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I thought it would help,” you laughed, done beating around the bush. “Don’t you usually imagine me saying your name when you do this?”

You turned back around to face him, cocking your head to the side. His eyes widened and his hand stopped moving as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

Your mouth practically watered at the sight of him, chest flushed and heaving, his fist squeezed tightly around his erection.

“W-what…I don’t…I haven’t…” Sam stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of denial to your statement.

“Oh, come on,” you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “I’m not oblivious and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

Sam’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Relax, Sammy, it’s okay,” you said, beginning to slowly lather the soap into your skin. “Keep going.”

“What?” He gulped, eyes shooting open as they focused on the way your hands moved across your body in an agonizingly tempting motion.

“Keep going, Sammy,” you repeated, not taking your eyes off of him.

He released a shuddered breath, licking his lips as his eyes locked back on yours. Slowly, he began to move his fist again.

His jaw fell slack as his gaze followed the motion of your hands, teasing him as you trailed suds across your chest. His hand moved faster, his eyelids fluttering as a strained noise sounded from his throat.

“Is this what you think about, Sammy?” You taunted, moving your hands lower down your stomach.

Sam gasped, nodding his head as he muttered, “uh-huh.”

His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his hips thrusting into his fist. His hooded eyes were dark with desire as they traveled over your body. His movements became sloppy, his brows knitting together.

You could tell he was close, soft sounds involuntarily escaping his lips. His muscles were visibly tensing as his breaths started to come out in short spurts.

You’d had enough of being a bystander. Every nerve in your body was alight with desire and you wanted to close the distance between you two. You were done playing this game. If he was going to come, you wanted it to be by your hands.

Sam let out an involuntary whine of protest as you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away from himself. His eyes widened as you moved him until his back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

“W-what are you…what’s happening…oh, fuck.”

Sam’s questions were silenced the minute you pressed yourself against him. He gasped, clenching his fists by his side, seemingly using all of his restraint to keep from touching you.

He looked down at you, his gaze pleading and questioning as he asked, “What is this?”

“I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move,” you shrugged, grabbing his face.

His brows furrowed, confusion etched into his features. His mouth opened and closed, as if trying to form the words he wanted to say.

“Waiting for…what do you mean?”

“God, you’re so oblivious,” you mumbled, pulling his face down to yours and pressing your lips against his.

He immediately buckled, leaning into the kiss. He couldn’t help but groan into your mouth, a sound that betrayed the intensity of his arousal. The pressure building in his groin grew, his need growing at an unbearable pace. He arched his hips forward, desperate for contact. You pulled back, biting your lip as you peered up at him.

Sam held his breath, the moment teetering on the edge of ecstasy. His heart hammered so loud that it threatened to drown out the sound of the shower. His eyes were dizzy and unfocused as he looked down at you. This was both the most exhilarating and most terrifying moment of his life. The anticipation was agonizing, maddening.

You glanced down at his pouted lips, as if daring him to make a move. His tongue darted out, flicking across them as his gaze moved between your eyes and your mouth.

Finally, after working up the courage, he leaned forward. You grinned as you tilted your head back, keeping your lips just out of reach. He furrowed his eyebrows, releasing a shaky breath before trying again. You let his lips barely brush against yours before you dodged him again, smirking at the teasing game you were playing with him.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, desperation etched into his features, as a needy whine sounded in his throat. He whispered your name, fists tightening as every muscle in his body tensed with longing.

“Please,” he whispered, his jaw clenching with the effort to keep his composure.

With that one word, he completely crumbled your resolve. His eyes were dark and glassy with desire and unshed tears and you were prepared to give him anything he asked for.

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him into a heated kiss. His lips immediately parted, devouring your own. He kissed you like he was starved, like you were his only source of oxygen after he’d been suffocating with need.

There was still a hesitancy in his actions, a part of him that was restraining himself. Whether it was out of fear or lack of knowledge, you didn’t hesitate to guide him.

Your fingertips trailed down his arms, causing him to shiver. You grabbed his hands and placed them on your hips. He moaned into your mouth, his touch instantly beginning to wander.

The urgency in his kiss increased, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your legs. Years of built up tension came bubbling to the surface as you both began to drown in each other.

Sam’s voice was low and husky, barely coherent against your lips as he whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The pressure between his legs was a stinging reminder of his desperation. The need within him was leaking with each touch, each kiss. He reveled in the control you wielded over him. Sam’s mind was lost in a sea of lust. This was a moment he’d dreamed about for years. The thought of it was almost too much, the entire situation overwhelming.

You guided his hands up to your chest and Sam wasted no time in palming your tits. He squeezed gently, kissing you with blazing fervor. When his thumbs experimentally swiped across your nipples, you let out a sigh of pleasure against his lips.

Sam’s brain short-circuited the minute he heard your reaction. His hips surged forward, pushing his aching erection between your clenched thighs. He had been so worked up and the pressure provided just the right amount of friction. He gasped, letting out a strangled moan as he clutched onto you. His eyes rolled back as an orgasm ripped through him, instinctively continuing to thrust between the plush skin of your thighs.

Sam panted, slowly opening his eyes again as he came down from the high. His entire body flushed at the revelation of what had just occurred. He took in your amused expression, groaning in embarrassment as he buried his face into your neck.

You stifled a giggle, gently rubbing his back as you whispered, “It’s okay, Sammy. It happens.”

He whimpered against your skin, wrapping his arms around you. He was torn between wishing he could disappear, never having to face you again, and wanting to stay in this moment forever.

“Besides,” you smirked, leaning down to pepper gentle kisses across his shoulder, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Sam inhaled, sharply, his breath hot against your neck. His body instantly responded, his arousal already stirring again at the prospect alone.

You grabbed his face, lifting his head back up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were still tinged pink, bringing out the bright blue of his dilated eyes.

You traced his swollen lips with your thumb and asked, “Do you think you can do it again for me?”

“Mhm,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “I’ll do anything for you.”

You grinned, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Promise?”

He pulled you into him, closing the gap between you so that you couldn’t pull away again. He kissed you passionately, groaning as you bit down on his bottom lip.

“Promise,” he mumbled into the kiss, “anything you want.”

You reached up to grab his chin, tilting it to the side as you slowly kissed down his neck. His eyes fluttered shut, his body quivering at the tender attention. He cradled your head with a trembling hand, urging you on as your lips made their way across his skin.

Sam whimpered when you nipped at his pulse point, the hand in your hair tightening as you gently sucked a dark mark into the pale skin. You kissed across his chest, letting your hands run down his sides. He gasped as your teeth grazed over one of his nipples.

Your lips continued their descent down his body as you slowly sank to your knees in front of him. Sam let out a shaky breath, whispering your name as his legs nearly gave out.

You blinked up at him, water drops coating your lashes, as you rubbed your hands up and down his thighs.

“You’ll do anything I want?” You asked, kissing across his hips.

“Uh-huh,” he rasped, licking his lips as he nodded his head. “Anything you want. I swear it.”

Your mouth watered as you sat eye-level with his dick that was steadily twitching back to life. He gasped as you took him into your hand, his fists clenching tightly by his sides. You slowly began to stroke him, watching as he bit his lip to try and hold back the sounds threatening to spill from his lips.

“Then I want to hear how good it feels, Sammy,” you told him, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip.

“Shit,” he cursed, hardening again in your grip.

Your tongue traced a line up his shaft, slowly circling it around the head of his dick before taking him entirely into your mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned, panting as he gripped the shower wall for support. “That’s…a-ah…that’s really good.”

The sight of you was overwhelming. He had only ever pictured you this way in his dirtiest dreams. You, on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock, gazing up at him like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, peering down at you through hooded lids. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

You watched his chest heave as you worked him, using your hand to cover what your mouth couldn’t fit. His fist was still tangled in your hair, but he didn’t dare attempt to control your movements.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, the sensation causing his hips to stutter. You swallowed around him and his entire body threatened to crumble. Strings of lewd moans and whimpers escaped his lips as his back arched off of the wall.

“Oh, god,” he panted, throwing his head back against the shower wall, “I’m…fuck…I’m gonna…”

You pulled off of him and he let out a whine, thrusting to desperately chase your lips. You grabbed his hips, holding them still as you rose back up to your feet.

“Why’d you stop?” Sam pouted, scrunching his eyebrows together in desperation. “I was so close.”

Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it, as you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to stop before getting to be inside of me, but if you’d rather settle for my hands then I can keep going,” you taunted, cocking your head to the side.

“No,” he croaked out, his voice breaking off into a desperate moan at the mere thought of that privilege. “I wanna be inside you. Please, let me be inside of you.”

He clutched at you, pulling you into him as he crashed his mouth against yours. You immediately responded to the kiss, parting your lips and tasting his tongue with your own.

Without breaking the kiss, you pulled him forward and switched your positions so that your back was now pressed against the shower wall.

You reached down, grabbing his dick and stroking it as you lined it up with your entrance. He gasped, breaking apart to rest his forehead against yours. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked down between your bodies, watching you tease them finally joining together.

“Please, don’t keep teasing me,” he begged, his voice hoarse with need. “I can’t take it.”

You wrapped a leg around his waist and Sam held his breath, his mouth falling open as you guided his hips to slowly sheath into you. As his length filled you, stretching you out with a delicious burn, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan.

Once he was buried to the hilt, his hips flesh against your own, he finally released his breath in a strangled whimper.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes away from the sight of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck me, Sammy,” you whispered, watching as his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

His breath hitched as he nodded, his body trembling with nervous anticipation. He pulled back, almost completely out of you, before pushing back in with a slow, experimental thrust.

You both gasped at the feeling, moaning into the shared air between your mouths. He repeated the motion again, familiarizing himself with the way your body practically pulled him in.

His thrusts got faster as his lips found yours again in a heated kiss. You clutched onto his shoulders for support, feeling every nerve in your body ignite in flames of pleasure.

“You feel so good,” you mumbled, arching into him. “Such a perfect fit.”

Sam groaned against your lips, his hips picking up the pace. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, the dam of his emotions suddenly breaking as he fucked into you. “I-I dreamed about you, every day. You were all…ah…I ever wanted.”

“I know, Sammy, I know,” you panted, reaching up to kiss him again. “I’ve always felt the same way, you were just too blind to notice.”

He whimpered at the revelation, his thrusts becoming more urgent. He grabbed your waist, using it as leverage as his hips snapped up into yours.

“Fuck,” he whined, breathing out your name. “I-I’m getting close. I’m not gonna be able to last.”

“I need you to hold on just a little longer, Sammy,” you told him, earning a desperate whimper as his eyes grew glassy again.

You grabbed one of his hands, guiding his thumb to your clit. You moved it in slow circles, showing him how to touch you. He picked up the action quickly, moving his fingers on their own accord.

You moaned at the added stimulation, feeling Sam’s hips stutter as you squeezed around him. Ragged breaths wracked through him as he tried desperately to hold on for you.

“Wanna hear you, Sammy,” you prompted.

A single tear drop fell down his cheek from the sheer effort of keeping his climax at bay as he began to mindlessly ramble.

“You feel so good. Squeezin’ around me all tight and warm. Could just stay buried in you forever. Never wanna stop. I’ll do anything to satisfy you. Anything you want. I’ll get on my hands and knees if you ask me to. Just wanna make you happy. Just wanna keep feelin’ you like this.”

He kissed down your neck, needing to occupy his mouth. He buried his face against your chest, gasping and whimpering as his movements chased the high he desperately craved.

“No one else gets to have me like this,” you promised, feeling that familiar knot of pleasure tightening in the pit of your stomach. Each stroke of his thumb against your clit, paired with the tip of his dick repeatedly brushing that spot inside of you, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re the only one I want, Sammy. The only one who can make me feel this way.”

He let out a strained cry against your skin, his fingers gripping the plush skin of your waist tighter.

“Please, I need to come,” he begged, the desperation making his voice raw. “I need it, baby, please.”

The sweet sounds of his pleading was the final thread that unraveled the knot.

“Come for me, Sammy,” you breathed.

You felt the white hot pleasure course through your veins as you tightened around him, feeling your climax wash over you in a tidal wave.

He came with a cry of your name, clutching onto you as he continued to thrust into you. His vision seemed to black out as he finally let go, giving you everything.

The world around you seemed to fade as you both came down from the mutual high. Sam’s body relaxed into yours, his hands still trembling as you both tried to catch your breath. You settled into a blissful haze, engulfed by the warmth of the shower.

You held him close to you, running your fingers soothingly through his hair as you smiled lazily, “You done avoiding me now?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, grinning sheepishly. He nuzzled into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around you. “Never gonna avoid you again.”

“Good,” you responded, “it would be a dick move to avoid your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Sam asked, his head snapping up as he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Well, yeah,” you grinned, biting your lip. “Unless you’d rather this just be a one time thing.”

“No!” Sam interjected, quickly, shaking his head. “I want this to be an all the time thing. Every day. Multiple times a day, if possible.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling as you playfully shoved him. He laughed, his entire face lighting up with joy and relief as he hugged you to him.

“You know, it was kind of a creeper move to barge in on me in the shower,” he joked, looking down at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Hey, you were the one jacking off to me in my own house!” You argued, laughing as you poked his chest.

He grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles before grabbing your face and sweetly kissing your lips.

He hummed softly and whispered, “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.”

You beamed up at him, feeling your heart flutter in his embrace. You used up the remaining hot water to actually shower off, tending to each other as you did. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was how it was always meant to be.

Maybe it’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.

#hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #sam monroe #Sam Monroe smut #smut #smut requests #Hayden Christensen fanfiction #Sam Monroe fanfiction #Hayden Christensen imagine #Sam Monroe imagine #Drabble #one shot #life as a house #life as a house smut

[girlokwhatever]

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- end of beginning,, pt.2

part one

emily engstler x fem!ex!reader

you got ready in record time. the combination of your nerves and excitement together spurred you into a frenzy, encouraging you to bounce around your hotel room like you were being rushed.

emily said she’d pick you up soon, causing you to hurriedly make the finishing touches on your look tonight. there was that feeling still, deep down, that you wanted desperately to impress her.

the shared conversation you had echoed in your mind the moment the two of you departed. she asked you out to dinner. your mind teetered on the line between two ideas: she wanted closure so you two could be teammates without your history getting in the way, or, maybe she hasn’t moved on.

you think in some ways you have, but was that even true? if emily came to you with a confession of love that she never let go of, what would you do?

there wasn’t time to ponder the thought because your phone dinged. it was a simple message from emily telling you she’s here. ‘waiting for you outside’ she said, simple but enough to make your heart beat faster. you gathered your essentials and left the ghost-like hotel room to meet emily outside.

when you caught sight of her, leaning against her car, hands buried deep in her pockets and ankles crossed, you knew you were done for. she looked so beautiful, no less than you remember.

“hey, sorry, i know i’m a bit early.”

“it’s all good, i was ready anyway.”

she eyes you up and down, smiling to herself because she recognizes the bracelet you’re wearing. it’s one of the many she bought for you during your relationship. a token of her love for you.

“i was thinking we could get some hibachi, your hotel is kinda close.”

you nod, affirming it’s a pleasant choice. the car ride there is filled with simple conversation. you realize it’s the kind of conversation you’d have with someone you barely know, but then again, it’s been two years since you’ve seen emily.

she is different. but so are you.

“okay i’m gonna warn you, i’ve heard mixed reviews about this place.”

the two of you had been seated almost ten minutes ago and still haven’t been given drinks. you didn’t mind much but you could tell by her bouncing leg that emily was losing patience.

“and you didn’t feel like that was worth mentioning earlier?”

“well i remember you like hibachi and this is the only place i know of that serves it.”

she’s giving you a playful shrug as her fingers toy with the lanyard attached to her keys. you can’t help but let your eyes linger, watching her facial features shift slightly when she breaks eye contact or noticing the almost invisible shake in her hands. she seems much more reserved, a lot quieter than you know her to be.

“hey do you remember that time,” she smiles as she pauses to collect her thoughts, “when we got hibachi and the guy accidentally burnt you with the shrimp?”

“oh my god- yes. i still, to this day, have no clue how he managed to flip it on me instead of the stove.”

“dude that was classic. i mean, unfortunate for you but definitely funny.”

emily leans back against the wooden chair, relaxing into the seat. she was looking at you again and still smiling at the contagious happy memory. it was a popular story to tell during your relationship.

“yeah okay, but when i mention that time in the park when you fell on your face it’s not funny?”

“no. you threw the ball way too high. i don’t even know how you threw the football like that.”

“from practicing when we went to the beach that one time, remember? we’d throw the ball on the beach at night.”

all the recounts of priceless stories never to be forgotten makes your chest swell with fondness. to see the way emily smiles when talking about them warms your heart even more because she’s genuinely happy and you sense no resentment in her tone. she’s appreciative of the time she got to spend with you, even if it was short-lived.

“i don’t think i could ever forget that. it was the best vacation of my life for sure. it was so good, school had kinda been stressing me out and all so i was just happy to get away with you. i remember our first night there you wore that really pretty dress, the white one, and you asked me to take pictures of you at sunset but it was so windy and you kept getting mad. oh my gosh you were so mad. i still have the one picture where you’re pulling that piece of hair out of your mouth and you got so upset because i took the picture and sent it to myself. but you looked so beautiful anyway, it was good.”

you don’t say anything, too shocked to properly collect yourself. though you knew ex’s could be friends, you weren’t aware it was like this. you’re in awe of her really, feeling your cheeks grow warm at her compliments of your beauty.

your eyes stay trained on emily but she’s looking straight ahead at the wall, rummaging through all her memories containing you. you’re all she can think about in this moment and she’s not aware how obvious that simple fact is. she was too lost in thought, too busy missing her past to realize her word vomit.

“i remember too how an ocean wave knocked you over and you got a bunch of sand in your hair,” she leans back further, trying to submerge herself in the memory. “and i had to help you wash it out that night cause your arms were tired. then for the rest of the week you made me go in the ocean with you every time so i could help hold you up, i think i can still feel how tight you’d grip me when a wave came. and we’d always get burnt cause we’d float together for ages. but i didn’t even care because i was just happy to be there with you. nothing else mattered to me.”

the intensity of her words finally dawn on emily, immediately stiffening and clearing her throat. the air between you is thick and her confession weighs in the space between. you have no idea how to react or what you could possibly say to her, but you don’t have to because someone is finally asking what you want to drink.

the rest of dinner was tense with very few shared words. every now and then emily would comment on the quality of the food and you’d say nothing in return.

what could you say?

the ride back to your hotel was even worse. the soft hum of the radio and an occasional road bump was the only noise to fill your space. your eyes stayed glued on the sunset out the window the entire time, trying to remember how you ended up in this situation.

you thought back on everything. from the moment emily asked you to be her girlfriend, the moment you broke up with her, to earlier in the night when she asked you out to dinner. anecdotes of your shared past with her flooded your mind and refused to leave. it wasn’t until she parked at your hotel that they drained, leaving you with a teary waterline and regrets of past decisions. and current ones.

“thanks for taking me out tonight.”

“yeah, no problem.” silence lingered as you climbed out of her passenger seat but once you were about to shut the door she spoke up again, “i’m sorry.”

but it was too late and she wasn’t even sure if you heard her because you just kept walking. shaky breaths and silence consumed the walk back to your room, nothing in your mind but blame on yourself.

you should’ve said something, acknowledged her admission and reciprocated it. instead you sat there silently and visibly watched her shrink in on herself.

you were a coward.

you were a coward back then when you broke up with her, not able to face the uncertainty change would bring. it had only gotten worse. you realized that maybe some things don’t ever change.

the harsh opinion you harbored for yourself only made you feel worse. once you reached your room the tears began to fall one by one down your face, a pent-up sob escaping you from your spot on the bed.

emily was still parked outside, watching the time pass by. with each minute she debated on going inside, straight to your room. she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do or say when she got there, but she just wanted to see you again.

it had been thirteen minutes since you left. thirteen minutes since she saw you. thirteen minutes since the opportunity to win you over again had passed. thirteen minutes sitting in silence waiting for you to text her something, anything. but you never did.

she couldn’t leave knowing she didn’t try.

so she didn’t. she remembered seeing your key card, your floor and room written across it in bold lettering. that’s where she found herself now, standing on your floor gathering the courage to just knock.

finally she did, hearing you shuffle on the other side of the door. she could swear a drop of sweat was dripping down her forehead, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe at it.

“emily?”

“can i talk to you?” she was going to throw up, she was going to throw up, “please?”

“yeah.. are you okay?”

“are you?” emily looks at your face, makeup disrupted by wet streaks and eyes slightly red, red enough to be noticed. her tone came out harsher than she meant it to, pushing her way into the cold room. you don’t answer, instead busying yourself with shutting the door and turning the lights on.

“can i sit down?”

“go for it.”

she props herself up on the end of your bed, hands resting on her bouncing knees as you approach. you lean against the wall a few feet away as she begins to speak.

“i’m sorry for dinner, if it made you feel weird or anything. i think i should tell you, just get it out of the way, that i still think about you. all the time. and, like, i miss you. i know we’ve both probably changed and we’re different people now, i get it. but nothing, nothing, amounts to the way i felt with you. when i saw you today i felt like old me again. i want nothing more than to be like that again.” emily catches her breath, the jumbled confession coming so suddenly. “i went back to louisville last summer, just to see jeff and stuff. being there reminded me of you. i felt better there because i felt like part of you was there with me.”

she looks at you expectantly, waiting for some type of reaction. you just stare at her with an unreadable expression, tears dipping at the corners of your mouth and you bring a gentle hand up to wipe them away.

“do you ever..” she buries her head in her hands, dragging them down her face, “do you ever feel that way? tell me you don’t and i’ll leave if you want me to. i just have to know so that i can move on with my life.”

“emily..”

“it’s okay” she whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

she stands, tucking her flyaways behind her ear. your eyes connect with a silent message as you try to find the right words. you turn your head away from her direction because you feel like she’s peering into you, dissecting every thought and tearing you apart to find what she wants.

“i think about you all the time.”

it’s short but effective. emily’s heart skips a beat and so does yours, the gap between your bodies lessening.

“getting on the court with you again was so amazing and for that reason alone i’m happy to be here. i left louisville because i couldn’t do it without you. and i spent, oh my god, so many nights regretting my decision. i miss you emily. i’ve missed you for two years.”

neither of you have any words left as she surges toward you, pulling your body into hers. your lips meet in a passionate kiss to make up for lost time, finding peace within one another. emily holds the back of your head to press you as close as possible because she fears you’ll slip away again if she doesn’t. she finally has you back, nothing is taking that away from her.

you’re the first to pull away, placing your forehead against her own. your noses rest side by side, lips touching and fingers tangled in hair as you both pant from loss of breath. you’re so relieved that you’re almost convinced it can’t be real.

there’s no negative feelings plaguing either of you anymore, finally feeling complete.

the rest of the night is spent with tangled limbs and gentle kisses to pass the time. she never leaves your embrace and you don’t leave hers, feeling content right where you are.

you can finally wave goodbye to the end of your beginning with emily, ready to move into the next chapter with her.

ʚɞ✧˖ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

thank you @astroph1les for literally giving me all the motivation to do this

i hope no one forgot about pt.1 i know it’s been a minute 😬😬😬🤗

not spell checked yet but it will be later!!

pls enjoy!!!!!!!

#i love emily engstler #emily engstler i love you #rea loves em #emily engstler fic #emily engstler smut #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler blurb #emily engstler #angst with a happy ending #wlw slay #wlw angst #wlw imagine #wlw yearning #wlw post #masc lesbian #lesbian imagine #lgbtqia #lgbtq #lesbian #bisexual

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! Since the "Morgana wants to be allies with Emrys" au received so much support, here's a continuation of that au!

NOTE: You can find part one of this au here!

To recap, in this au, Morgana is never told that Emrys is her doom, and instead assumes that the whole "Emrys is your destiny" thing means that she needs Emrys as her ally in order to achieve her destiny and conquer Camelot. She seeks out Emrys to no avail, but Mordred reveals to her that Merlin is Emrys. She then tries to get Merlin to join her, but he refuses. So, Morgana is trying to fight Arthur for Merlin's friendship so that she can finally take Camelot for herself.

Without further ado, onto the new stuff! Arthur and Morgana first try outdoing each other in terms of physical gifts. Morgana notes how Merlin still lives in relatively poor conditions, so she sends him things like nicer clothes, magic books, and the severed heads of his enemies. Arthur, who still doesn't know about Merlin's magic, gives Merlin new chambers, new furniture, and better pay. This leads to Morgana sending him a chest full of golden coins and jewels, and Arthur has to outdo her and give Merlin an even bigger chest full of gold and as send one to his mother. Morgana has her men steal the chest while it was en route to Ealdor and send it under her name instead.

Arthur gave Merlin access to the royal gardens so that he could just grow his medicinal herbs instead of having to go all the way out into the woods, and then Morgana refurbished the castle run-down nearest Ealdor, had it decked out in all the best finery that magic could conjure, and dedicated it to Merlin.

Merlin, meanwhile, just wanted a break, but he wouldn't get one.

Eventually, Arthur and Morgana get the memo that physical gifts wouldn't work, so they switched tactics.

Morgana then tried to appeal to Merlin a different way. If he wanted Arthur so badly, then she could provide him with an even better version of Arthur! Morgana selected loyal Emrys-worshipping druids who looked and spoke similar to Arthur and sent them to Camelot to try and woo Emrys to their side.

Merlin, waking up and seeing six knock-off Arthurs standing around him: Wait a minute, I've had this sex dream before!

Arthur, barging into Merlin's room because he's late and seeing six knock-off versions of himself standing around Merlin's bed: ... ARTHUR.EXE HAS STOPPED RESPONDING

When Arthur could finally comprehend what was going on, he had the look-alikes all sent to the dungeon. He's not sure who he was more pissed off about: Morgana sending those men, or Merlin looking like he was interested in them. But Arthur couldn't stay mad at Merlin for very long, so his rage was settled on Morgana once more. But how could he outdo a stunt like that?

As Arthur was plotting his next move that night, he caught sight of Merlin sneaking around the castle. He knew that Merlin would never betray Camelot, but Merlin sneaking around right after being offered gifts by Morgana is rather suspicious. Maybe there was more to the situation that Merlin was keeping from Arthur? In any case, Arthur had to follow Merlin, if only to ease his own fears.

So, Arthur stealthily followed Merlin and witnessed him using magic to kill an assassin sent by Morgana. Arthur is shocked by the revelation that Merlin has powerful magic, but all of a sudden Morgana's crusade to lure Merlin to her side made much more sense. He now knows that if he loses Merlin, he'll be losing all of the magic that's been thanklessly protecting him for years.

So, Arthur does the only thing that he can do: repeal the magic ban. The threat of execution for his magic is the one thing that could possibly drive Merlin from his side, so Arthur would simply remove it and thus remove any reason for Merlin to ever leave Camelot. Merlin would be happier and finally feel safe in his own home, and Arthur's wouldn't lose his closest friend (and secretly the object of his affections) to his harpy of a sister. It was a win-win for Arthur!

Arthur, of course, faced staunch resistance from the council, but he was the king at the end of the day, and so the magic ban was revoked. Arthur had a whole speech to the people and a celebratory feast after the repeal of the magic ban was signed into law, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Merlin as he proudly proclaimed to his citizens that magic would no longer be persecuted in Camelot. Arthur knew that he would be late to the feast as he spent the next few hours after his speech holding a sobbing Merlin in his arms, comforting him and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear.

Morgana, upon hearing the news of Arthur's repeal of the magic ban, was furious. It was her destiny to bring magic back to the land with the mighty Emrys by her side, and her idiot brother's!

Morgana became so infuriated by this that she marched her army of sorcerers right up to the gates of Camelot and demanded that Arthur hand over Emrys, or else she would march into the land and tear him away from Arthur by force.

Morgana, yelling at the walls of Camelot: Emrys, get out here! I have hundreds of shirtless himbos with swords for you to choose from! Take your pick! You don't need Arthur!

Arthur met Morgana at the walls (after ordering Merlin to stay behind in the castle so that Morgana couldn't take him and leaving a dozen knights behind so Merlin couldn't use magic to escape and follow Arthur like the annoyingly loyal and devoted friend that he was) and tried to negotiate with her, but Morgana wouldn't budge. After a while though, Arthur had an idea.

Arthur offered Morgana the chance to return to Camelot as a noble guest and live within the castle again, granting her full access to Merlin at all times so that she could try all of her tricks to lure him over to her side. In exchange, Morgana would call off her army and send them away and NOT try to kill anyone while she was living with them. Arthur's offer stated that if she did manage to get Merlin on her side, then she could, as she said, fulfill her destiny and try to take the throne from Arthur.

Arthur's logic was that if Morgana ever did get Merlin as her ally, Arthur's reign was already over then and there. If Merlin ever willingly turned his back on Arthur, then it surely meant that Arthur was no longer fit to be king. However, Arthur was certain that that would never happen. So, to Arthur, this deal would keep Morgana in the castle and keep her from killing anyone, allowing him to try and make amends with his sister.

Morgana thought over the deal for a while. To her, while living in Camelot and not being able to kill her enemies and claim the throne while she was there would be disappointing, having unimpeded access to Emrys would make achieving her destiny much easier, and once Emrys was her ally, they could easily conquer Camelot from within. Yes, Arthur was a fool, and this deal was a straightforward plan for her to take her rightful throne!

To Arthur's surprise, Morgana accepts her deal and sends her army away, willingly entering Camelot, much to the citizens' unease. Morgana glares at him and the knights as they make their way up to the castle.

Morgana was given her old chambers back, which hadn't been touched in the time that she was gone. All of her old clothes and jewelry were still there too.

Morgana settled in very quickly, she didn't have much to bring with her anyways. She'd have to have Mordred send Aithusa over to her though, since the young dragon hadn't been with her at the gates.

For now though, it was time to get down to business: she had to get Emrys to join her cause.

Granted, that might be a bit harder than she anticipated, given that the man in question looked like he had swallowed a lemon when he saw her in the castle. Clearly, he was wary of her, but she was certain that they would grow closer, as their glorious destiny intended!

In the meanwhile, Arthur had foolishly given her a seat at his council, so that she could advise them on magical topics and affairs. She did take great pleasure in seeing the lords and knight at Arthur's round table squirm at the sight of her though.

It didn't take long for Morgana to see how useless and inept Arthur's advisors were at actually running a kingdom. Dear gods, it was a miracle anything got done at all with how much those worthless lords squabbled with each other over inane topics! And all the while, her idiot brother sat in his chair, almost falling asleep!

Morgana was about to get up and storm out of the pointless meeting, but stopped when she saw Emrys, who was standing behind Arthur holding a pitcher and looking at the soon-to-be-deposed king (such a disrespectful job for someone as powerful as Emrys!) with a disappointed frown. Wait, this cold be how Morgana wins him over!

She has to prove to Emrys that she would be a better, more efficient ruler than Arthur! Then he would side with her!

So, Morgana threw herself into outwitting Arthur's useless council and winning arguments against them, making the whole thing much more productive really. She strongarmed them into discussing topics that actually mattered and not their own personal petty squabbles.

She was so busy watched Emrys's reactions that she completely missed how Arthur's eyes lit up with joy at seeing bits and pieces of the old Morgana shine through.

From there, Morgana is slowly redeemed as she tries to prove herself to be a better ruler than Arthur. Arthur has trouble ensuring that the harvest will be plentiful enough? Morgana can use magic to make crops grow with ease! Arthur has trouble negotiating a trade treaty with a neighboring kingdom? Morgana knows how to intimidate them into making a deal favorable for Camelot! Arthur's worried about an invading army getting too close to Camelot! Morgana can blast them all away with the wave of a hand!

Slowly, the people of Camelot become less and less scared of Morgana. As she's redeemed, Merlin gets closer with her again, almost sharing the friendship that they once had. Morgana sees this as a sign that she's close to winning Emrys over, so she doubles down. Morgana gets better, Emrys grows closer, and the cycle repeats itself until Morgana finds herself looking at Arthur and doesn't feel any of that familiar dark rage under her skin that usually accompanies the sight of her brother.

Maybe... maybe she could get used to the idea of staying in Camelot indefinitely, at least until her brother got himself killed. But the world seemed to already be doing a good job of throwing Arthur into deadly situations without her, so maybe she could just sit back in Camelot and teach those idiots in the council how to actually get some work done. Yes, that sounded like a good plan.

And that's all for this au! I hope you all enjoyed it! I have a little surprised planned for my next post, so be sure to stay tuned!

Also, here's everyone who asked for this continuation! Thank you so much for your support! @kj-owl, @smileytrinity, @nannersthespellcast0r, @nalua93, @wolfnight2012, @lucifertookmyshoe, @ath99, @thisinhumanplace, @hopeaha, @lightoftheemeraldstar, @valiantkittenwitch, @adragonhoardingstories, @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego, @the-king-and-the-druidess, @jellytamalies, @keenest-of-heart

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #merlin au #merthur #emrys #morgana #merlin prompts

[lihhelsing]

"Can I get your coffee order?"

STWG daily prompt 6/2/24 (let's pretend it's not two days late): Coming Out Pairing: steddie | tags: coming out, coffee shop au, modern au, meet cute, fluff

Eddie was used to seeing the same guy in the coffee shop every day. It was impossible not to notice him because he was gorgeous and Eddie was a simple man who liked to admire beautiful things. 

So Steve would come in every day and always at the same time, ordering the same thing. Double Espresso with a shot of Vanilla. It suited him, Eddie thought, but he would always see him looking at the menu as if he was considering ordering something different, just to end up with the same thing every day. 

It was kind of cute. 

Sometimes he would sit alone for half an hour, face buried in his phone. Sometimes a loud brunette girl would join him but then they would never stay for long. Eddie didn’t like those days even if he thought she looked like a nice person. 

And then sometimes Steve would come in and order for two, then he would proceed to sit at a table and in a few minutes a girl would join him. Always a different girl, which told Eddie none of them were his girlfriends. 

One could even think this was some sort of job interview because it was pretty clear Steve wasn’t fully into the conversation. He was trying, sure, but after an hour the girl would inevitably excuse herself and leave. Steve would hang out for a few more minutes and then leave too, not looking back. 

And he’d do it all over again on a different day. 

Eddie couldn’t even feel guilty about paying attention. Steve always came in when the rush hour had passed and the coffee shop was mostly empty, and Eddie didn’t have much to do. And yeah, sure he was also a little obsessed with him so he was curious what was all that about. 

Surely Steve didn’t seem the kind of guy to have dating issues. 

The day Eddie noticed something was different was when Steve came in and ordered a Chai Latte. For anyone else, this might mean nothing, but Eddie knew better and he had watched Steve for long enough to know that if he finally changed his order after months, something was up. 

He didn’t want to look like a creep so he smiled like he always did and thanked the fat tip Steve left him, like he always did. And maybe Eddie flirted a little, but who could blame him? Steve was just too handsome for his own good and Eddie was just a man. 

Eddie gave him his drink and politely waited for a few minutes just to make sure Steve wasn’t expecting anyone, and then he finally moved in. 

“Hey, how’s your drink?” Eddie asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. Steve looked up at him through thick eyelashes and Eddie wanted to die a little. 

“Oh, it’s good. I never had one of these so I can’t really compare it to anything else, but I like how it tastes.”

Eddie hummed, “Well, tell you what, I make a mean Matchá if you ever feel like broadening your horizons.”

Steve chuckled and nodded, “I might take you up on that, actually.”

They stood in silence and Eddie was ready to accept his defeat when Steve spoke again. 

“I just… Started to realize I might want to try different things.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “how so?”

“Well, I used to drink the same coffee every day and it was good, don’t get me wrong. But I kept looking and looking and it felt like I was... Missing something,” Steve frowned as he spoke, almost as if he was talking about coffee but thinking about something else. 

“It’s what they say, don’t knock it til you try it, am I right?”

Steve chuckled and Eddie was under the impression he was just being polite. 

“For sure. It’s just hard sometimes, to try new things. Even if you are… Curious.”

“I say just go for it. The worst that can happen is you spend a few bucks on something you will never want to drink again, but if that ever happens I got you. I’ll get you something different on the house,” Eddie said and then he winked because he was a sick little man. 

The blush that crept onto Steve’s cheek was beautiful, though, so he was only half-sorry. 

“Oh, what if… It’s not coffee that I want to try?” Steve said, not meeting Eddie’s eyes. 

Eddie smiled and motioned his hand to the drink menu, “Lucky for you we have an assortment of drinks like refreshers and matchá and even some teas-“

“I mean, what if this isn’t about drinks?” 

Now Eddie was completely lost. He looked back to meet Steve’s eyes and there was an intensity behind them that gave him chills. 

“What do you mean?”

“I, um…” Steve looked around as if making sure the place was empty and still lowered his voice a little. “What if I’m not as straight as I always thought I was?”

Eddie tried to contain his surprise and forced his expression to remain neutral, not wanting to spook him. 

“That’s ok, too. Lord knows I’m gay as it comes and it took me a few tries to figure it out,” Eddie chuckled, but Steve’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “I mean, you don’t have to be gay either! You can be bi or pan or-“

“Sorry, I made this awkward. I’m sorry. I’ve just been having these feelings and Robin says I can always talk to her but it feels that if I even ask it will be real and then if I turn out to be just confused then she will be disappointed because she always said I was her straight token friend but I know she would be happy if I wasn’t-“

“Hey, hey,” Eddie moved his hand and touched Steve’s shoulder lightly. He just hoped he wasn’t crossing a line. That definitely wasn’t the first time a customer said something incredibly personal out of the blue, but it was the first time someone was coming out to him like that. 

Steve looked up at him with huge brown eyes and Eddie felt his insides melting a little. Here it was, this cute guy having a sexuality crisis and just looking even cuter. 

“I don’t know you and obviously don’t know this friend of yours. Robin, is it? But if she loves you, and I’m assuming she does, she will love you no matter what. Even if you have to come out to her as… Straight?” Eddie said that and got a snort back from Steve. 

At least that was better than the desolation he had in his eyes before. 

“I guess you’re right,” Steve said, nodding his head. 

“And hey, you can definitely try things out and figure out you were straight all along, but from my experience, straight people don’t usually question their sexuality or even feel the curiosity to do so. They just are. So my best bet would be on you being one of us. Assuming your friend Robin is also not straight.”

“Oh, definitely not,” Steve said, laughing and he just looked so much better like that. 

“Well, ok Steve, then my job here is done! I’m sure Robin will have much better advice to give to you, but you can always count on me to try different coffees,” and there it was, the fucking wink again. Who did Eddie think he was? 

Steve blushed again and now Eddie could see they were pretty damn close. He slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s shoulder as to not make him uncomfortable, but it seemed that Eddie’s pep talk had done the trick because now Steve had this glint in his eyes. 

“Can I buy you coffee?” he asked, smiling slowly. 

“Uh, what?”

“You know, since I’m already trying things I thought it would be nice to try uh… A Matchá, you said? And a… Date?”

Holy fucking Jesus. Steve was fucking smooth. Eddie felt his cheeks getting warm and he looked around to conclude they were still alone at the coffee shop. There was not a single reason for him to turn this down even if Steve ended up figuring out he was straight. Yeah, fat chance. 

“Lead the way, big boy,” Eddie motioned for the counter and Steve smiled, nodding and following him right into their first date. 

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie #fanfic #steddie ficlet #ficlet #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #modern au #meet cute #fluff #ali's stuff

[monstersflashlight]

Hi :) Uhmm ... I like how you write, these past few days it become my obsession and joy. ( I am so sorry, I am so bad at giving compliments!)

Uhmmm .... If I may be so bold I would like to share an idea? I just thought about absolutely cocky and arogant male, womanizer Cerberos. The reader has love/hate relationship towards him. Well and after one wild party, he would corner reader and showed them his true form. And holding onto his word to rock reader´s world (quite literally)

Hi! I'm so glad you enjoy my content, it means the world. Sorry for the long wait, adult life sucks so bad. Also, I added the anon question, hope you don’t mind. The idea that Cerberus is the one you hit on when tipsy sounds so cute to let it pass. I took the liberty to make cerberus a type of monster, so they’re just one of them and not THE cerberus, you know. I imagine they’re like a werewolf but with three heads, and like not human form, just a wolfy-guy with three heads. Each head talks separately, but in this there’s no difference between them to not make it hard to follow, but I think it’s quite good. Hope you enjoy! <3

Three heads are better than one

Cerberus (they/them) x fem!reader || fingering, public sex, dirty talk

When a cerberus started to work on your law firm, you two hit it the wrong way from the start. You were a top tier lawyer and they couldn’t understand that a human could be better than them. Three heads think better than one, how could a puny human like you be better than them? But you were, and it infuriated them. But it also fueled your banter with so much sexual tension you could taste it. But you didn’t do anything about it because everyone at the office knew they were a womanizer, they had a new girl every few days and never dated anyone. They were just there for the sex. Or that’s what everyone at the office said. But dang you wanted to hit it off with them so bad, you needed to know what their three mouths tasted like, how would it be to have three brains focused on your pleasure… That sounded delicious in the best possible way.

So when you catch them and their friends in a bar, after a few drinks, you think it’s time. You approach them and their friends at the end of the bar, ready to do something about your pent up sexual tension. You two have been dancing around each other for what feels like ages, and your tipsy brain thinks the best moment to do something about it is right now, right there. When you get closer, you can hear their friends making fun of them and elbowing them as they all giggle, pointing at you. You add a little bit of movement to your hips and hope it doesn’t look too ridiculous.

“Hi darling, how’s your night going?” You touch their pecs as all three of their heads focus on you. You blush, but keep caressing their torso over their shirt, you squeeze a bit and they slap your hand softly.

“Human, get lost.” You can’t understand how their voice can sound so harsh and so sexy at the same time, you can feel your panties melting. Maybe the alcohol has a part to blame, drinking always made you horny, and today is not different.

You pout, bating your lashes in your best puppy look. “Why are you always so mean?” Their three heads blink slowly at you, almost took out balance by your question.

“What? We’re not mean, you are just too soft,” they answer. You scoff, if they want to play that game you can give as better as receive. Uh, receiving… That’s exactly what you want. In a sexy way, against a wall if possible. They look like they can lift you up and fuck you.

“I’m not soft. I’m human. And you are mean.” You think you heard him say something about how they’re already aware that you are human, but you aren’t sure, the bar is really loud and the world is spinning around you.

“You need to go away before we do something all of us would regret.” Their central head is the one doing the talking, but the other two nod along.

“I don’t want to.” You know you sound bratty and entitled, but you are horny and everyone says they’re a womanizer, why are they not womanizing you? “You don’t like humans, is that it?”

“Trust me, they like humans. They like them reeeeeal good.” One of their friends says behind them. All of them laugh, but your coworkers are looking at you like they are going to dig a hole through your body just with their eyes.

“Come with me.” They sound fed up, like they are going to scold you and it’s going to feel awful. But your tipsy brain doesn’t process it fully, so you follow them without questioning. They lead you to the back of the bar, the hallway that leads to the bathroom. The music is softer there, you can listen to your own brain better.

They push you against the wall, they body pressing against your front. You shiver, anticipation filling your guts and their low growl making you whimper. “We can smell how wet you are, we can almost taste your desire. You are too tempting for your own good, honey.” You think the pet name was condescending every time they used it before, but at that moment, it sounds like a caress.

Their hands found the edge of your skirt as they grab your leg and position it against their hip. You are open and exposed, your skirt riding up and your soaked panties in the open. You whine again. You never felt as dirty and naughty as you do now, it’s maddening. They cress the outside of your thigh as they rock their hips against you, letting you feel their cock through your panties. You moan loudly.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please.” You know you’d be embarrassed beyond belief about it the next morning, but right now you don’t care. You can only think about how good their finger feels inside of you, and how much you wish that was their cock. When they move your panties to the side and push one finger inside your needy pussy, you cry out.

“Not here, little human.” They press against your G-spot, making your knees buckle under you. They grab your waist and holds you pressed against the wall as you pant. “If tomorrow you feel like this again, then we can talk.” They said, their fingers slowly thrusting into you.

“What?” You ask, trying to focus on their words and not the wonders they’re doing on your pussy. Their thumb rolls over your clit and you have to bite on your tongue to stop yourself from screaming. It feels so good. You start to move your hips at the rhythm of their thrusts.

“We’ve been waiting forever to get your attention, We’re not wasting it on a quick fuck on a bar.” Their voice sounds serious and you feel confused as fuck. What are they talking about? They hate you, they always pick stupid fights with you over the silliest things.

“What?” You ask, trying to grab their hand but holding onto their shoulders, moving your hips faster. The rational part of you is not present, only your whore-ish part.

“We’ve been waiting to ask you out but we thought you wouldn’t want us.” They mutter that under their breath, you barely catch it.

“What?” You ask, once more. Are they saying they like you? They wanted to ask you out? But… But the gossip. They said they didn’t date, you never saw them with anybody, just random hookups. “What?” You ask again.

“You… We… We have a bit of a human kink with you, okay? You are so soft and so pretty. We can’t stop thinking about you. And then you get up in front of the judge and good lord do you look good. You look magnificent.” Their voice sounds amazed, like they are telling the truth and they truly like you. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your question is lost when their thumb starts rubbing against your clit. You think they answer something, but your brain is fuzzy with pleasure. “Stop touching my clit I can’t focus.” You whisper, trying to look at them and see if they aren’t lying. There’s no way they want you, is it?

“What if we don’t want you to focus? What if we want you coming around our fingers until you are crying out how much you love it? How much you like being stretched in public by us?” You moan so loud they have to cover your mouth with their unoccupied hand. “Shhh, be quiet. You don’t want us to get caught, do you?” Your pussy involuntarily clenches around their fingers. “Oh, naughty girl, you do want to get caught. Does that excite you? Do you want everyone to see how improper you really are? You are such a good lawyer but then you part your legs for us in the back of the bar… Such a dirty, dirty woman.” You shiver, your juices flowing around their fingers. You’ve never been as turned on as you are right there, their fingers feel divine and you are so fucking close.

“Please…” Your plea sounds pathetic and you blush, but they just smirk at you, two of their heads attacking your neck at the same time. Feeling the two sets of mouths against your neck combined with the feel of their fingers moving inside of you is getting you so wet their hand is making filthy sounds.

“You are so wet for us, so soft. I bet you taste amazing. We are going to spend so much time licking you. Do you know what they say about cerberus?” You shake your head. “We give the best head because we have three of them. Do you want to feel three tongues against your pussy, honey? Do you want to be worshiped by three heads?” The image they are painting in your head is so good you want to open your legs and ask them to do it right there. But you are so close already, their fingers feel so fantastic inside of you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, rolling your hips. They accompany your movement, getting you almost to the edge.

“Are you going to come for us? Are you going to be a good woman and come around our fingers? We can’t wait to feel you around our dicks, bet you are going to feel better than any pussy we ever had. Our first human. Our only human. What are you gonna do, honey? Do you want to suck us off?” You nod eagerly, so close. “Of course you want to, you want to be a good little human for us.” You get the feeling them calling you human is doing more for them than for you. Their human kink is playing in your favor. “Come for us, human.” They whisper against your ear as the other two heads suck on your neck.

The combination of fingers and mouths makes your body shake uncontrollably against theirs, your orgasm so good you almost fall down. You can feel your juices dripping down and soaking your panties and their fingers. They take their fingers away and you watch in amazement as they raise their hand to lick it, all three of their heads getting some. You moan as aftershocks rock your body.

They put your panties back in place and slowly lower your leg. Your legs are shaky and you grab onto their arm. Three heads smile down at you, one of them looking specially smug. They pass an arm over your shoulders and help you walk out of the hallway. “Let us take you home.” They whisper, their hold on you so hard it feels wonderful. It feels so good you could fall asleep right there. They gave you the orgasm of your life and on top of it, they are sweet about it. You judged them so bad you feel like shit. You can always make it up to them at some point. You add it to your mental list of things to do in the morning, even though you know you won’t remember.

“There’s no need.” You try to argue, without any force behind your words. You really want to spend more time with them.

“We want to.” Their voice is final, you know that tone. That’s the tone they use in court, and you know you can’t win against it.

They drive you home as you fidget with your rings, nervous after what happened, after what they said. You want to run, to break the silence, but you are speechless. You don’t know what to say and the alcohol you had is kicking you really hard. You feel sleepy and tired, more than ready to go to bed.

They follow you to your house, opening your door and leading you to your bedroom where they help you get undressed. You think they are going to do something more, but they barely touch your naked body as they cover you with a blanket.

You feel three soft forehead kisses before they say: “We aren’t playing games with you, honey. We want to play with your pussy, yes, but not with your heart. We hope you give us a chance.” You nod, and try to answer, but your eyes are so heavy that you can’t keep them open, your brain shutting down.

When you wake up the next morning with a text saying: “We can’t wait to have you sucking our cock. And then we can go to dinner, we booked the fancy restaurant you like.” You giggle on your pillow and kick your legs. Yeah… That sounds like the start of a very fun game.

#cerberus #cerberus x reader #cerberus x human #monster #monster fucker #monster imagine #monster x human #teratophillia #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #terato #request #fem!human #banter

[berry-potchy]

Dad's Best Friend!Miguel part 2

Summary: Your dad shows up unannounced, interrupting your romantic dinner with Miguel. He plants seeds of doubt in your pretty little head that Miguel is more than happy to snip off

Tags: DBF!Miguel x F!Reader, age gap, college age reader, P in V sex, size difference (smaller reader), brief under the table footjob, spanking, insecurities, vague mention of Miguel’s past relationships, uncomfortable relationship talk with your dad who means well but ends up making you feel like shit anyway

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Surprise! The second part actually exists. It’s been almost a year since part one and I kept teasing part 2 but I couldn’t think of a way to end it. I considered just abruptly cutting it off and post it but I just couldn’t do it. BUT HERE IT IS NOW. Hope you guys still enjoy it!

Part 1

It has been a week since Miguel has caught you masturbating to the thought of him. A week since you found out that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. A week of absolute depravity that you thought only happened in porn. He fucked you all over the house; no room, furniture, or surface was left untouched during your vigorous lovemaking.

Unfortunately, his “sick leave” had to come to an end and so did your self-imposed break from uni. He’s going back to work the next day so you decided you were going to do something special and make the most of the last evening of his leave. Of course, there’ll be more times to fuck but you feel the need to give him something special before he goes back to his workaholic mode. Maybe it’ll encourage him to start coming home earlier.

You had everything planned. You and Miguel had a lovely early dinner that he helped you prepare. The way it was so easy to fall into a domestic routine made your heart flutter. You’d have to ask him if you can do this with him more often when he’s not so busy with work. You also had wine that Miguel picked out for both of you. You trusted his mature tastes even though you knew he preferred hard liquor. And for dessert, well…

“That’s it, gatita,” Miguel grunted in your ear, a deep growl rumbles from his chest as he rams his fat cock relentlessly into your greedy cunt. “Taking my cock so well. I’m gonna miss this when I’m at work tomorrow. Gonna think about your tight little pussy while I’m in a boring meeting.”

You can’t form any coherent words from how aggressive his thrusts were. Each thrust drove his cock deeper into you, his tip kissing your cervix, knocking the air out of your lungs and the words out of your little cock drunk brain. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your arms holding his broad shoulders for support, hands desperately clawing at his back. You clung to him tightly as he fucked you standing up in the middle of the kitchen. He took full control of your body, his large hands on your waist, moving you up and down his cock as he pleased, like you’re his personal living cocksleeve.

“My little slut can’t even talk anymore,” he laughs at your pathetic whimpers and whines “Taking my cock like a good girl. Going to make sure you feel it until tomorrow.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck panting, mumbling “please” over and over again against his skin. Your tits are pressed against him, sensitive nipples rubbing against the dusting of dark hair on his chest with every movement. The burning knot in your stomach is threatening to come undone.

“You’re gonna cum for me, princesa?” he said as his thrusts grow frantic. “Wanna feel your pussy milk my cock dry. She’s so greedy for my cum. Sucking me in so good I can’t even try to pull out.”

You arch your back as you feel your orgasm rip through you, making you see white for a second. Miguel catches you, an arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders to keep you from falling over as he keeps on rutting into you to chase after his own climax. He pulls you closer to him to capture your mouth into a kiss as you feel his hot cum coat your velvety walls. You moan against his lips, giving his tongue access to your mouth, making you melt in his arms.

You reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He coos at how absolutely wrecked you looked, the pretty makeup you did for him all smeared and messed up. The red of your lipstick is no longer on your lips but all over Miguel – on his lips, cheeks, neck, chest, trailing all the way down to the red ring near the base of his cock.

Miguel sets you down on the dining table, hands keeping your knees apart to watch his cum dripping out of your sloppy hole. Your hands grab your breasts, squeezing them together for his viewing pleasure. Miguel moans at the sight. You are so perfect to him.

“I’m going to see your dad again in the office tomorrow,” he says, kneeling in front of your spread legs, ready to eat his dessert. He licks his lips and rubs his large hands up and down your thighs “I’m sure he’s going to have questions. I’ll make sure to tell him how good you were, taking care of me and making me feel so much better.”

He was about to dive in when the doorbell rang. You hear him growl a string of Spanish curse words under his breath as he reluctantly stands up from where he was kneeling. He tries to calm down and you sit up to wipe the sweat and lipstick off his face. You help him put on his shirt, straightening it out as much as you can with your hands as he tucks away his half-hard cock in his sweatpants. You brush his messy hair back away from his forehead, trying to make him look presentable for when he answers the door.

“I’ll be quick,” he sighs, kissing you on your temple as he pulls away and walks out the room. You can’t help but be a little curious as to who is looking for Miguel this late in the evening. You try to stand up, snatching the silk robe you were wearing earlier to peek at the visitor when you hear an all too familiar voice echo in the halls.

“Miguel! You look like shit!” The loud booming voice of your father makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were coming over?” Miguel said, trying to act normal as you hear him letting your dad in. “You should’ve called.”

“Well I did try to but neither you nor my daughter were answering,” he said “Anyway where is she? I brought you guys your favorites for dinner. I’ll even set up the dinner table for you.”

That got you to snap back to reality. Shit, shit, shit!

You start running to your room, careful not to leave a trail of Miguel’s cum on the floor. You try to wash off any traces of sex with a quick shower and change into a simple shirt and unfortunately with a bra and shorts on this time. Can’t have your dad know you parade around the house half-naked for a man twice your age.

Downstairs, Miguel’s boner is fully killed. He didn’t even get to clean you up with his tongue. Shame. Your dad is talking about work stuff but he’s only half-listening. He helps him set the table for your second dinner of the evening, not able to turn down his best friend lest he gets suspicious. He eyes a few white drops on the table and reluctantly wipes it with the hem of his shirt. His eyes meet yours as you enter the room, drying your hair with a towel. You give him a tight-lipped smile before going in to greet your dad.

You have an okay dinner together: Your dad did most of the talking, which is usually what happens between him and Miguel anyway. He also is still under the impression that Miguel was actually sick so he got a pass. You however have to pretend you aren’t annoyed that the night you planned is ruined as you answer his questions about uni.

“No boys? Partners? I told Miguel not to let you bring any around,” he says smugly to which Miguel smirks, taking a sip of the whisky your dad brought over.

“Dad, please,” you groan, sliding down on your chair, which makes him laugh out loud. You steal a glance at Miguel, pouting, and he’s laughing along. Traitor.

“I just wanted to be sure my baby’s focusing on her studies,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender before adding “and that I don’t end up a grandpa too soon.”

They keep laughing but thankfully, Miguel changes the topic. You give him a look of relief and rub your foot on his leg as a silent thank you. He keeps talking to your dad, pretending not to feel your foot stray further up until it rests on his inner thigh, the tip of your toe toying with the outline of his cock. He grabs your ankle but doesn’t stop you. He instead moves to sit a little closer to the table so you can rub the sole of your foot against his clothed length.

You’re playing a dangerous game. Your dad is right there he could look under the table and find his precious daughter giving his best friend a footjob in front of the dinner and alcohol he so graciously brought over. But you were feeling petty about your ruined plans and Miguel doesn’t seem to mind the attention to his cock.

You bite your lip, feeling his cock harden under your touch. He must feel sticky and uncomfortable under his sweatpants after not being able to wipe his dick of your combined fluids when your dad barged in. You wish your dad decides to leave early so you could get on your knees for Miguel and lick him clean.

Miguel eventually excuses himself, coughing that he needs to go to the bathroom, probably to jerk off and shower. You start clearing up the table and your dad offers to help.

“So,” he starts wiping the table “I see the way you look at Miguel.”

You freeze, trying not to drop the stack of plates you’re holding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You start loading the dishwasher, trying not to make it obvious that your hands are shaking.

“Hey, no need to get defensive. I know what I saw,” he says “And I mean, you’re a young single lady and Miguel is this handsome, cool, older guy that’s a constant in your day-to-day. It’s not wild to have a crush on him. I’m just…”

Silence.

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. I don’t want you to get hurt when he doesn’t return your feelings,” he sighs as he leans his hip on the counter next to you. He’s trying to look you in the eyes, trying to let you know that he’s being sincere. “Believe me that man has no time for romance. He’s all busy with his work. Plus I’ve seen the women he slept with before. All supermodel looking and yet… well they never last long.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost, dad,” you roll your eyes at him, trying hard to ignore the feeling of wanting to throw up. You don’t want to think about that. About the specifics of what you and Miguel have going on. You’re just trying to enjoy Miguel’s attention right now. For the longest time, you didn’t even think you had the chance. Is it really that bad to just accept what he’s willing to give right now?

“I’m not saying you’re not beautiful, honey! Of course, you’re beautiful! You’re my daughter,” he tries to lighten the mood but turns serious when you don’t laugh. “Just might not be his type. Besides, he’s twice your age. He's too close to your old man’s age. Are you sure that’s something you’d like? In a few years, he’d be just as uncool as me while you’re still young and should be enjoying your life.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. You both stay silent for a few moments. You think about Miguel and try to look for signs. Signs that say he just wants sex or that he wants something more. All you can think about is how sweet he always was with you even before you had sex. Even more now. You blush remembering how Miguel peppered your face with kisses this morning to wake you up because he wanted to cook breakfast but didn’t want to leave you in bed.

“Okay, but what if he does?” you countered, suddenly gaining a bit of confidence. “Would you be okay with that? If we get into a relationship?”

A painful few seconds of silence that felt like forever.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he finally says, shaking his head, and sighing. “It’s your “I’m going to get what I want” look you got from your mom. You’re gonna get hurt.”

You cross your arms and pout, never one to back down.

“And if he does end up liking you,” he starts again and you side-eye him “well… good thing he doesn't.”

You groan as your dad messes up your hair, laughing as he sees Miguel come back, fresh from his shower. Your dad finally decides it’s time to head out and let the sick man rest. He gives you a tight hug and a kiss on your forehead before leaving.

You’re left alone with Miguel again in the kitchen. The earlier conversation with your dad soured your mood and left you zoning out. Miguel slips himself between your parted legs as you sit on the kitchen counter, large, warm hands kneading your thighs, fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“What’s on your mind, princesa?” He leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Tell me.”

You try to turn away but he brings a curled finger under your chin to make you face him. His brows are furrowed, worried. You try to look at him and your heart stutters. You don’t want whatever you have with him to end. You’re not sure if you actually want something serious with Miguel but the thought of just being a bedwarmer to Miguel is upsetting.

“Just thinking,” you start, trying to get the words out without sounding jealous or spiteful “My dad said you used to date? Sleep around with? Whatever. The girls you were with before were all… supermodel looking. They’re probably tall and skinny and drop-dead gorgeous huh? Is that your type?”

“And where is this going, nena?” Miguel whispers, pulling away and giving you a stern look.

“Well, I’m just not like that?” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips and shying away from his gaze. “I don’t know why you gave me the chance. I’m just-”

Miguel’s gentle touch on your chin turns into him gripping your cheeks, making you shut up. You nervously look at him, a deep frown on his face.

“Don’t you ever put yourself down, cariño,” he says, his eyes sharp. He makes you keep your eyes on him while he uses his other hand to pull you closer, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You know, at the start, I offered to let you stay here just because I wanted to mentor you when I had the time. I know you’re a brilliant girl, so intelligent, following in your dad’s footsteps. What I didn’t expect is for you to consume my thoughts day and night for the past few months. You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady, cariño. You are such a temptation, making me think about your pretty eyes looking up so innocently at me. Those lips tempt me every single time you pout at me to get your way.”

He growls, finally letting go of your face to move his hands to your ass. He suddenly bucks his hips against yours making you gasp out loud, your clothed cunt rubbing against his growing bulge. You try to move your hips to gain friction on your throbbing cunt but he keeps you still.

“Don’t even get me started on this body of yours,” he buries his face at the crook of your neck, kissing, licking, nipping at the sensitive flesh making your head roll to the side to give him more access “So perfect for me. Made for me to grab, to fuck, to worship. Dios mio, nena, I can’t get enough of you.”

He sounds drunk from your scent and taste, mouthing at your neck, hands kneading your flesh. He grabs handfuls of the soft fat of your thighs, your ass, your tummy rolls, your plump tits, and back down, committing each curve to memory. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure when he laps at your pulse with his skillful tongue.

“So I don’t wanna hear any of that nonsense comparing yourself to women I didn’t care about then and I sure don’t care about now,” he growls as he picks you up and flips you around. He bends you over the counter, stomach against the cold marble top and the rounded edges digging at the tops of your thighs. Your feet can’t quite reach the floor so you settle for trying to wrap your legs around Miguel’s own. He yanks your shorts and panties down to your knees in one aggressive motion.

“My silly beautiful girl getting jealous over old flings and exes,” he hummed, his large hands massaging your ass, kneading the cheeks, spreading them with his thumbs. “They’re not here anymore, are they? Didn’t work out with them and they’re not in my life anymore. And I prefer it that way.”

You feel him spit on your hole, dripping down to mix with your own wetness. You drop your head onto the countertop, the heated skin on your face making the marble feel icy. He takes your wrists, securing your hands behind your back with his own large hand while his other still massages your ass. Your eyes flutter, enjoying the sensation when you hear a loud smack cut through the momentary silence.

“Mig-” you yelp as you feel a sharp sting on your right ass cheek. His hand goes back to massaging, trying to soothe your reddened skin. You whine as he gives your other cheek the same treatment. Two matching red handprints bloom on both your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t be listening to your dad about my type when I was much younger,” he says, his voice low and serious as he leans down to press his sculpted chest on your back “Because right now there’s nothing I want more than this pequeña prinscesa whose toes can't even reach the floor when I bend her over the kitchen counter. You love that too don't you? How I’m much bigger than you? How easily I can carry you around, bend you over, and fuck you whenever I want? Love folding you in half and using your pretty pussy- no, my pretty pussy. This is mine. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed. Isn’t that right?

You nod enthusiastically not trusting your voice to speak. the words he growls at your ear going straight to your cunt. You feel another hard smack go down your ass, the impact making you slide a bit on the counter. His hands pull you back by the waist to press his erection against your dripping cunt, your wetness soaking through his sweatpants.

“Use your words when you answer me, nena,” he growls, grinding himself against your folds. The friction from the fabric of his sweatpants feels heavenly against your puffy folds.

“Yessss,” you whine, pushing your ass back against him “all yours. Need you to fuck this pussy please, please, please!”

“How can I say no when my baby girl is begging so nicely?” he coos, pulling down his sweatpants to free his cock. He takes it in his hand and presses the tip in. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your velvety walls welcome him back, still stretched out from your earlier activities.

“Perfect,” Miguel groans as he wastes no time to fuck into your slutty little hole that’s sucking him in so lewdly. “Made for me. Mi princesa needs to learn that no one can compare to her. She’s so perfect. And she’s mine. Only mine. And I am hers.”

“Yo-urs– M-ah, Miguel,” you whimper as he keeps hitting all the right places, his tip hitting your sweet spot with each hard thrust until you’re once again pushed over the edge of sweet release. Your gummy walls contract, milking Miguel’s cock as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He follows shortly after with a deep moan, his cock coating your insides with his warm seed.

Miguel makes no move to pull out. Instead he peppers your shoulders and neck with kisses, humming in contentment, whispering sweet endearments. Your heart fills with warmth and before you could even think about it, the words just leave your mouth.

“I love you, Miguel”

Silence. Anxiety starts to bubble in your chest as you start to think that you’ve read all the signs wrong. But before you could take it back, Miguel turns you to lie on your back, facing him. He leans down to capture your lips in his, his hands pulling you closer as if he was afraid you’d leave if he lets go. He mumbles “I love you” against your lips over and over again for the rest of the night making sure you never doubt his feelings for you ever again.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #potchy-writes #dbf!miguel #dad's best friend miguel ohara #dilf miguel ohara

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader?(no age gap). He saw that someone was flirting with her and she was oblivious to it. Then, he swoops in to ‘save’ her from a bad flirt when in reality they were just jealous. He also feels insecure about his age and to make him feel better, she reveals that she had a surprise for him. You decide what it was. Just something fluff and romantic. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

You make me feel so …. I don’t know the word in English! -McLaren Fernando Alonso x ObliviousWife! Reader

Plot: Marrying Fernando Alonso was the best decision you ever made, you loved how manly and protective he was with you. However, recently he’s been getting jealous of the other men of the grid and how they treat you.

Credit to blueballsracing for the GIF

Fernando Alonso had been your husband for many years. You were sort of childhood sweethearts who married young on a whim and stuck together through it all.

You were able to travel the world with the person, later to be people you loved most. However recently you had a glow about it, maybe it was the fact that you were 1 month pregnant not to the knowledge of Fernando and not yet showing but just had that dewy, glowing skin that made you look radiant.

Everyone in the paddock took notice of this change, not that they couldn’t appreciate your attractiveness before, but now it just made them swoon anytime you breezed into the garage in one of your pretty sun dresses.

Today was no different, it was a beautiful sunny day in Mexico, and you were handing out water and fruit for the mechanics and engineers hard at work on your husbands car. You knew them all by name, you made sure you did, so greeting them was never an issue.

However, nobody told you of the rookie employee that had joined them for Mexico in McLaren garage. You immediately started to introduce yourself to the man, talking to him about what he was doing to the car and asking when he had joined them.

Unknown to you, the mechanic was smitten with you and everything you were telling him about your life. He was listening to every word you were telling him, and that was the effect you had on a lot of people.

“So are you, I dunno coming to the team dinner tonight?” He asks scratching the back of his neck and your about to answer with an animated yes until you feel a hand snake round your waist and pull you closer to them.

You look up and see your husband making you smile and pull him into a gentle kiss.

“Mmm my wife will be attending the dinner” Fernando says, you can’t tell but it’s said with a grit in his teeth and a sharp foxy look in his eyes that tells him to back off.

Fernando was used to you getting male attention, but lately it was constant and you didn’t even know it was happening, you were just so oblivious and he hated that you didn’t realise all these people were flirting with you.

And that mechanic wasn’t even the last of it.

Maybe it was something in the Mexican air, but even Fernando couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you over the weekend, especially after your run in with Lewis, and your old friend Jenson.

When Lewis come up to you, you had a big grin on your face.

“Hey darling. How are you?” He asked kissing either side of your cheeks looking over you with those eyes that would draw any woman in, but you. You had no idea those flirty eyes were intended that way. You just saw the kind chocolate brown and assumed the sparkle and glint in there was happiness to see you.

“I’m really good Lew! Just getting to that point of the day where I’m so exhausted, not all of us are young athletes that look 10 year more youthful than they are” you joked to him making him laugh.

“Mmm you definitely don’t struggle in that department” he says looking over you and you beam at him.

“It’s just so warm, do you recon you can help me take my jacket off? I’m not sure where Fernando is, and the buttons always get caught in my hair” you ask, looking round quickly to see if you can in fact bother your husband with the minor inconvenience at hand.

“Of course, turn around for me” he instructs before pulling your hair back and carefully peeling the tight jacket from your body, now showing off the full look of the sundress you were wearing and how it clung to your most valuable assets in the best ways.

“New dress” Lewis asks observing it making you nod.

“Mmmm, I love getting to wear these kinds of dresses in this heat, they make me feel very pretty” you smile as you shove your hands into the pockets of your dress that when you first got it you couldn’t stop telling Fernando about them, before doing a little spin for Lewis, showing of the small slit in the dress.

Fernando came over the minute he saw the look on Lewis face, who was holding your jacket as he spoke to you.

“Lewis” Fernando faked a smile at the fellow driver, once again wrapping his arms around you so you were in front of him with a tight grip and nowhere to go.

“Hello Fernando” Lewis smiles coyly with a slight smirk. The two make idle conversation before Fernandos dragging you away trying to lightly ask you to stay out in the garage and don’t stray away.

But once he was in the car, you found yourself needing the toilet (Curse the start of your baby sitting on your bladder) and another drink due to the high temperatures Mexico was experiencing that day.

There you found Jenson who was just finishing up with an interview before his eyes landed on you.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N Alonso, looking as beautiful as ever” he grins and you pull him into a hug.

You’d known Jenson for pretty much your whole life being childhood friends from Primary school in the UK. You met Fernando when you went to university in Spain, you always joked that you would have still met someone even if it was later in life because Jenson would have likely introduced you.

So when Fernando saw you and him jokingly messing around with one another his face was like thunder.

Jenson could immediately tell and said a quick goodbye to you not wanting to be at the brunt of the Spaniards anger.

“Fernando baby, what’s the matter?” You ask, coming close to him and trying to thread your fingers through his but he shoves your hand away lightly.

“When will you see it?” He demands and you cock your head to the side, not understanding what he meant, making him groan at how cute you looked.

“See what mi amor?” You ask, using Spanish to see if he’d be calmer.

“You don’t see all these BOYS flirting with you and trying to win you over and you don’t see how it affects me and upsets me! And you make me so mad when you entertain it’s and and I don’t know the world in English because I don’t even think there is a word to describe it!” He exclaims all at once making you step back.

He was really really hurt by all this… and you hadn’t been able to see it.

“Have you ever thought that I don’t notice it because I only have eyes for you?” You ask softly, taking his hand happy and satisfied he lets you this time.

“I know I know, I just think… all of these men coming up to you … they are younger than us and it just makes me think they could give you more than I can” he sighs and looks at you with those little puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you dare say that!” You exclaim almost offended. He had in fact brought your age into it aswell!

“How dare you say that they could give me more than you can, when you damn well know you’ve given me everything!” You say raising your voice.

“Fernando, I love you, and only you! How can you not see that!” You ask.

“I do see it, I just someone feel insecure and I worry that we are too late to experience certain things and its all my fault coz I put it off because of my career!” He explains and your head cocks to the side once again, wondering what he feels like he’s too late to experience.

“What, what do you think we’ve left too late?” You question.

“Kids, travelling the world without my career being there … I dunno I just had a different timeline for us when we first met” he sighs rubbing his temple before pulling you closer to him and resting his head in the crook of you neck as he takes in your sent.

“Baby, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was going to wait for after the race so we could tell your parents too but I think this will cheer you up a little … and stop you from worrying about me running over with your colleagues” you joke and he sighs with a light smile pulling back to look over you.

“What is it mi amor?” He asks looking over you. You take his hand and place it on your still pretty flat stomach.

“You can cross a kid of your timeline” you say nervously with a small gulp worried for his reaction.

“Are you being serious?” He asks with a huge grin and he feels around you more to see if there is a more obvious sign.

“Yeah, i only found out before the flight out here” you nod smiling at him and he lifts you up, being as careful as possible with you as he pulls you into a hug.

“I love you so so much! I’m sorry I get so jealous of you, but you can’t blame me when I’m married to such a beautiful woman. Thank you for everything” he smiles pulling you into a light kiss.

Fernando couldn’t be more content with his life right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul l @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso #fa14 fanfic #fa14 fic #fa14 imagine #fa14 x reader #fa14

[devoutekuna]

Having to share you

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He's not big on sharing, that's why he ate his twin brother in the womb. Normally he be fine with his daughter coming to you but whilst he was spending quality time with you was different. It was rare to get some time with the family, especially just you, since you were always so busy with your daughter. "Go away daddy" climbing onto the bed where you sat and your husband was said out on, hands wrapped around your waist. "I want mummy!" Pink hair ruffling along your knee as she used all her strength to get up, fortunately for him he had this bed custom made so that it would be higher. "You go away" glaring at his offspring. "No! You got mummy yesterday, it's my turn!" He didn't even know what she was talking about since they never took turns, plus you and him slept in the same bed every night. Helping the girl up as she sat next to you, wearing her white vest and light pink heart shorts, matching her hair. "Go away" kicking her father's hand away from your waist. Body being dragged towards him as he picked her up by the legs, hanging her upside down. "You've been getting on my nerves you brat" swinging her from side to side, much to your dismay.

"Leave her Ryo" trying to turn her upside down as he let go, if it wasn't for you she would've went face down onto the mattress. Coddling her in your arms, sticking her tongue out at the man.

Nanami-

He had you wrapped around his finger, body laying on his ass you two slept, he had just come back from a mission and wanted to unwind after having dinner with his family. He especially wanted some quality time with his beautiful wife, just you two. "Mummy!" Looking in the room before barging in, but having the courtesy to close the door behind her. "Your mum's asleep sweetheart" he was clearly lying as he just wanted you right now. "Now she's not!" Poking at her leg, only to get a reaction out of you, your daughter knew all your weak spots. "Hi mummy!" She was energetic today, maybe it's because she had some cake whilst you two ate dinner, getting herself up on the bed as she threw her toy down onto the pillow next to him, laying on his chest as she poked at your face which was buried in-between the blanket and his body. "Let your other rest" dragging her leg backwards. "No fair! You always get mum to yourself" that wasn't true, half the time you two were taking care of the girl rather than having quality time together.

Geto-

He loved his daughter but she was always with you, never getting anytime to you two, though how mena it sounded he loved when his daughter was at school or asleep since he could get you all to himself. Swaying your hips side to side as you finished putting away the dishes, hands tracing circles along your stomach, head resting on your head as he watched you. "When your done, do you want to head to the bedroom?" Smiling at you as you knew what he had in mind. "I think-" getting cut off as you heard your daughter screaming your name. "Mama!" Hugging your leg, completely ignoring her father. "Come play with me" tugging on your limb as she tried to drag you away from her father. "I can't baby, how about your father?" Glancing back at him as you saw his smile face, he was really looking forward to spending time with you. "I mean.."

Gojo-

Sat watching a movie with you, with you sat up and him laid out resting his head on your lap. Hands always digging into the bowl of sweets on the coffee table Infront, he wasn't even paying attention to the movie since he hated romance, but he'd do anything to have some more quality time with you. Enjoying himself till he heard the soft sound of feet coming towards the living room. "Mama!" You didn't understand why he was even awake since you chose to watch the movie at around 8pm so he should be in bed asleep. The boy walking up to you two wearing his blue dragon onesie with his stuffed dragon in tow. "Mama" rubbing his eye as he climbed beside you, resting his head on your side. "Let me watch" oh how much Satoru wanted to say no since his son was always with you.

Toji-

Sleeping next to Toji always had it's pros and cons, he pros being that he kept you warm and it was comforting to have a figure hugging you as you slept, the cons were that he always held you too tight or whenever you needed to get something he either refused to move wanting to stay with you or was always fast asleep. This day, he wasn't actually holding you whilst you slept since you joined him in bed after he fell asleep. Feeling another weight join in the bed as he rolled over, coming face to face with his daughter. Grinning in his face as she slapped him on accident, hand covering his face. "Hi daddy!" Moving her hand out of his face. "Hi, what are you doing in here?" Bringing your body closer to yours.

"I've come to sleep in here" wrapping herself underneath the blanket, that's where he was supposed to be, close to your body rather than his daughter. "How about we swap sides?" Trying to get closer to you. "I'm good" shuffling her body to get comfortable.

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #sukuna fluff #toji fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #sukuna ryomen #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk #𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊

[icallhimjoey]

bookstore joe hits different and i want to be hit once more right across the face pretty please

im sorry to the girls who arent into bookstore joe and im very not sorry to the girls who are into bookstore joe - enjoy babes! Wordcount: 2.4K

---

I Want To Hold Your Hand

When Joe walked in just after three, he greeted Anne who was stood behind the counter, doing some till work, and he got a small grunt in reply.

Standard. Made him smile. No sign of you, though.

Joe looked, craned his neck, but every corner of the store was empty. You were probably doing something in the back. He’d see you in a second.

Like always, he found a book, found a seat, and settled in for at least an hour of reading. He had the time today. Time to sit. Time to read. To soak up the atmosphere. To maybe kiss you again, if he was lucky. Time to notice how Anne was being more quiet than usual. To see how she was helping customers in a voice so unnatural to her own, it kind of freaked him out a little. To see her disappear into the back and come out back on her own, and...

Where were you?

He’d kissed you a few days ago. Kissed you. And now, something felt... weird. Like something was missing.

It was nearing in on 4PM and Anne hadn’t yet told him to fuck off, or whatever, so he knew something was off.

It was quiet in the store when Joe spoke up and asked, “Hey, Anne... am I going insane, or–”

“It’s your fault.” she was quick to cut him off, not even looking up from her task.

Joe frowned. What had he done?

“What have I done?”

Anne sighed and gestured a vague hand at him as she said, “Just your mere existence.” like it was obvious.

Joe thought back to all of your recent interactions. Your granddad had sadly passed away just over two weeks ago. Last week he tried cheering you up by showing you some pictures from the shoot you allowed him to do in the store. He’d kissed you then. The funeral had happened, and Anne had let Joe help out behind the till for a second and... now, you were... hiding?

From him?!

Surely not.

That was going to make this plan of sneaking another kiss absolutely impossible.

Unacceptable.

Anne watched Joe go through every single thing he’d done or said over the past few days that could’ve upset you, and then begrudgingly sighed.

“You’re such an idiot.” Anne said, before nodding her head towards the door that read personnel - the same door Joe had walked through ten seconds into his first ever visit.

Joe didn’t need telling twice.

When he stepped into the breakroom, he wasn’t prepared for how he found you.

You were sat at the table, buried in your laptop, one leg up on the chair, chin resting on your knee, and it was obvious you’d been crying. No matter how sweetly you smiled at the sight of him, it was obvious. Your face still eyed somewhat blotchy, eyes void of make-up and the delicate skin around them coloured red.

“Hey,” you didn’t seem surprised at the sight of him, at the fact that he’d just walked right into a room he technically wasn’t really allowed to be in.

“Hey, you– I’m sorry, you weren’t in the store, Anne said I could–... are you all right?”

Your smile grew as you nodded.

“Yea, sorry. Something, happened... earlier, it’s nothing,” you were quick to wave a hand, dismissing whatever had gotten you to hide in the back entirely. “I’m okay. How are you?”

Joe didn’t believe you. Didn’t buy it for a second. He felt like he should, because it felt like it was polite to take you for your word, but he couldn’t help the suspicious narrowing of his eyes.

“What happened?”

“Well, nothing, really. I overreacted to something and–”

“To what?” Joe interrupted, and immediately apologised. “Sorry, I... I’m sorry, I just...”

He just, what? If Joe knew, he would’ve told you, but it was not that long ago that Joe found you crying in a closed store and this felt oddly similar.

He didn’t like you upset.

Made him want to fix it.

“I promise I’m okay, just... it was for the best for me to not face any customers for a second, and I had to do some administrative work anyway, so...”

Joe’s eyes fell on your laptop as you gestured at it, and then he saw what was next to it.

He recognised it instantly.

The book you’d never sell.

Was it insane to think that he knew something was missing in the storefront? That he’d subconsciously noticed that it wasn’t in its spot? On the shelf? Where it always sat?

Probably was.

“Oh, um...” you saw Joe’d noticed and laid a flat palm on the leather-bound cover. “Yea, this was,” you had to stop to swallow.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Joe quickly decided. He didn’t want to make you start crying again. He wanted exactly the opposite, actually.

“No, it’s not–” you cleared your throat and sat up straight. You didn’t want to get emotional again over such a silly thing. “It’s Anne. She sat me down here and refuses to let me do anything else.”

You used her as you excuse. You weren’t lying; Anne really had said that you could stay in the breakroom for the rest of the day. She’d man the front on her own fine. Would find you with questions but then would tell you everything was going okay and leave you on your own again. But she wasn’t keeping you there. You were keeping you there.

“Ah. Can’t piss off Anne, can we?” Joe smirked slightly.

“I think we piss off Anne all the time,” you laughed, and it broke the tension a little.

Joe awkwardly stood in the middle of the breakroom and you were sort of glad he was there, but you wished you would’ve just been in the storefront with him. That you would’ve gotten to see his face as he’d walked in. As he’d sat down with his book. As he’d crossed his legs and let his head rest in his palm of which the elbow pushed into the armrest.

Joe was still staring at where your hand was placed, and now that you couldn’t seem to move your hand away from the big book of fairytales and folklore your granddad used to read you stories from, it felt only fair to explain why you’d gotten upset earlier that day.

“Someone tried to buy it.”

It was so stupid, because, before, when someone would climb up a ladder and find it, you would smile and just tell them, “No sorry, that one belongs to the store, I’m afraid.” and calmly take it from their hands to put it back.

Where your granddad used to make you reach for it when you were little.

Where your mother would pluck you from a ladder and scold her father for making you climb up so high.

Where it lived.

Where it had always lived.

It had never been a problem before. People were allowed to touch it. To read it. To ask to buy it. You’d just tell them no, and that would be the end of it.

Not today, though.

“They caused a bit of a scene when I said they couldn’t.”

You smiled as you said it, but Joe saw right through it.

“They were right though. Why keep a book in a bookstore when it’s not for sale? It’s right in between all of the books that are... I should just, I don’t know. Keep it some place else, I guess.”

“Of course not.” Joe reacted matter-of-factly.

You’d just gone through something extremely traumatic, were still going through something extremely traumatic, and why would you listen to someone who didn’t know? Who didn’t understand?

Joe thought he barely even understood, but he understood this.

He understood the blotchy skin. He understood Anne banning you from your own store for the rest of the day. He understood why you weren’t moving your hand from your grandfather’s book that he used to read you your favourite story from.

“I hope this doesn’t sound insensitive, but... I kind of wish I’d have been here when that happened.”

Not so that he could be the hero. Not so that he could step in and tell them to maybe just accept what the store owner was telling them.

“I would’ve loved to see Anne’s face.”

That made you chuckle. Anne really was your personal guard dog, as so it turned out.

“It was a pretty great face,” you recalled, smiling to yourself. God, you really lucked out with her.

“Store’s fairly empty now, though...” Joe pointed a casual thumb over his shoulder, and you looked at the door to where Anne still was manning the front.

You took a deep breath and grimaced a little, “Yea, I know... but, I kind of... I have some things I can finish here,” you pulled your laptop towards you. “And we’re nearly closing, anyway, so...”

You had already decided this was going to be the place where you would do all of your work today, and didn’t really want to come out of hiding. You’d do that after Anne would lock up. When there wouldn’t be any chance of the bell above the door jolting you back into your anxiety.

Joe thought for a moment. Looked at you, your laptop, your grandfather’s book, and...

“Would you mind some silent company?”

That one other time he had found you all fragile and up in your emotions, he’d just sat down right next to you, started reading a book in silence, and it had worked. He kind of wanted to give it another go. See if it would also work a second time.

“I–...” you faltered and looked at the wooden chairs around the table you were sat at. “These aren’t half as comfortable as the ones out front.”

“I asked, would you mind it?” Joe let his eyes twinkle, lips almost smiling. It made you drop your shoulders a bit as you relaxed at the idea of a bit of Joe in the break room, just for your comfort.

“No, I wouldn’t mind it.” you copied his tone, and Joe’s almost-smile turned into a beaming one.

“Okay, one second.” Joe said, slapping the doorframe as he passed through it, and you heard how he rushed his steps.

“Not my fault!” you heard Joe call out to Anne.

“Absolutely your fault,” Anne calmly replied.

“Not my mere existence!”

“Just your face then.”

Joe jogged back into the breakroom with a book in hands and pulled out the chair opposite you. He sat down, found his page and gave you a last sneaky little look over your laptop screen.

Then, just like before, he offered you his hand.

His hand.

Joe laid his arm across the table, wrist up, palm open, with fingers just shy of touching your laptop.

You just looked at it a moment.

Joe didn’t need to comfort you the way he had done that day, in the store, when all you could do was think about your grandfather and cry at his memories and the fact that there wouldn’t be new ones made.

A customer hadn’t been very kind to you today about something you felt sensitive about, and over an hour had passed already. You were fine.

But the gesture was sweet. Joe offered his hand for holding and even though it wasn’t needed, necessarily, it was still a nice gesture.

Kind.

Joe was so sweet. So kind. Soft and gentle and lovely.

You remembered how nice the distraction of playing fingers had been. How it had calmed you down enough for you to reveal the source of your hurt that day.

“Come on,” Joe then softly said, not unkindly, and you made eye-contact for a second. If he wasn’t going to be able to kiss you today, he could still try for the next best thing.

“I want to hold your hand.”

Just like that, it all shifted from a comforting gesture that was meant to soothe you to just a thing Joe wanted for himself. It was a bit silly how that made it easier to give in.

You reached a hand over and let the tips of your fingers touch the warm skin of his palm before they spread out and found a way to hold onto Joe’s closing fingers. They curled together best they could in their position, and when you chanced another glance at Joe, you saw the faintest hint of a smile across his face as his eyes had found his page again.

You got back to your work on your laptop, and whilst it definitely was a lot trickier to work down your to do list with one hand, it was also definitely a lot more gratifying.

You sat in the breakroom together like that until you could hear Anne carry the A-frame into the store, and where before you’d wished the day had just been over already, you kind of wished you’d get at least another five minutes with Joe. All right. Maybe ten.

Joe stayed put until you closed your laptop.

Joe stayed put until you got up to go back out front.

And then Joe stayed put until you walked back into the breakroom to pick up your grandfathers big leather bound book; the one book you’d never sell.

Joe watched you place it back where it belonged.

Back on its shelf where Joe remembered finding it after your grandfather asked him to go fetch him something from up high.

“Thank you.” you said looking down from you position up on a ladder, and Joe just smiled.

“Thank you.” Joe said in return, holding up the book he’d been reading before putting it down on his little ledge where he kept them.

“Thank me.” Anne dryly said, mostly to herself, from where she was doing the till.

“No.” Joe gave Anne the same smile he’d given you, and made you giggle as he said goodbye and left the store with a small wave.

“Thank you Anne,” you made a point to say it, because Anne really had been the star of the show today.

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson,

@choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn,

@dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee,

@figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4,

@hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke,

@lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr,

@munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories,

@phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn0628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420,

@songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73,

@werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x reader #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x Y/N #joe quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #bookstore!joe #like a poem #i want to hold your hand

[httpshujii]

❝ WANTED FOR A FATAL ATTRACTION . . . ❞

CHAPTER Ⅰ :- ATTENTION

C.W. f!reader is an attention seeking thief, mentions of killing & execution, implications of s*x (not detailed/sugar coated), reader labelled as freak. Please let me know if I missed anything!

TAGS :- @lu-naes @coconut36 @briarbabyxo @number1morihater @kaiser1ns (comment or dm if you'd like to be tagged!)

You don't know what you did to get such a large bounty on your head. You never killed, never found pleasure in the thought of it. Sure, you stole from the richest and you didn't bother hiding your acts.

It's amusing, how your delicate fingers can just snatch all sorts of things out of pockets. You'd find it humorous when they did catch you, when you made sure they knew that you stole something valuable.

The way their faces would contort into shock and morph into pure anger. It's an interesting reaction, you don't know why it satisfies you so much to be seen as a criminal, a known thief.

Is it the thrill it brings when doing something so fragile? Is it to prove something? You questioned your motives on more than one occasion. But it all goes down to one reason.

Boothill. An infamous outlaw, mostly works for brokers. You could never be like him, of course, you don't know how to handle arms nor do you know how he manages to eliminate people like some useless digits in an equation. But to be known by as many people as him is a need. A great wish that only the brightest star can grant, and that star sure does love to stay hidden.

You just want to be known. To be seen and to have your face stamped on the alley walls of Penacony, the word 'wanted' stated right above your head in heavy red ink. It's an indescribable urge.

You blame the lack of attention you got in your younger years. No matter how many times it's repeated, people are greedy and love to talk about themselves. You're no different. If anything, you're worse. This idea of belonging to yourself and loving yourself so much to the point where you want everyone to know every small thing about you, is a major derivative to becoming popular. Whether in a good or bad way.

You realized this power at a young age. Getting accused of cheating when you really didn't, but instead of having your belly bubble with rage at such an accusation, you felt seen. For the first time. Kids are straightforward, if you look, talk, or act weirdly, they'll label you as a "freak."

You didn't have friends, nor did you want any. Their a hindrance, nothing but pawns in a game you didn't know you were playing. You don't know why you used to think that, maybe it was cause you felt invisible. You didn't like it, but it was peaceful.

You remember smiling when the girl who accused you hissed you name towards the teacher, and then you grinned when all eyes turned to you. With that reaction, people agreed on your crime, and into punishment you went.

Cleaning the classroom for a week and retaking a harder version of the test. You took your time, enjoyed cleaning, enjoyed thinking. After all, you had no parents to go home to, no friend to visit. You lived relying on your pickpocketing skills. Stealing a sandwich from a distracted merchant, hiding an apple in your bag when looking through a store. Water bottles, sweets, juice, gum, anything you can get your sinister hands on.

You had the right to survive, just like everyone else. Even if your way bended the laws, you still had the right. At least that's what you told yourself.

As you grew up, you got smarter, more daring. Unclasping pearl necklaces from necks of rich women while complimenting them, flirting with drunk merchants that are too drunk to realize you snatch a few wads of credit, too naïve to notice, too blind by honeyed words to care.

You'd steal like it's a nine to five. You wake up every morning in your hidden shack that was an abandoned garage, brush your teeth, ruffle your hair, apply what little perfume you have left from the perfume store that you stole from a few years ago. Cool, peachy, and flowery. The scent would turn heads, only to be met with a sinister grin and a wallet out of their pockets and in your very trusty hands.

You'd buy yourself a meal, keep it packed till you get back to your humble abode.

"I'm home…"

You have no one to go back to. But these words always feel brand new when they roll out of your throat, saddened, somber. You know you'll never come home to see anyone, you'd probably be dead or on the run by the time. Every day, every night, it's the same routine.

You grew to like it, enjoy the loop of similar activities. Up until now.

As if a shock, he came in and rearranged the pattern. Forced himself into your idea of a perfect lifestyle. You're not mad, there's a reason you have his wanted poster plastered right next to your mattress on the wall of your home. You're excited to this sudden change. Giggling, you shove the drunkard you were trying to bribe away, causing him to stumble and knock himself out on the hard floor of the saloon.

You know he's here for you, it's clear with that killer smile on his lips. His hands hanging loosely on his gun holster, you pull your bottom lip into the light grip of your teeth, your smile so wide your lip slips from the caress of your wet tongue against the slightly chapped surface.

There he stands, in all his glory. The one and only Boothill. Mechanical body glinting under the yellow bulbs, complex machinery whispering a repetitive whir of pumps pumping and gears turning. Teeth akin to a shark's pointy and pearly. Pupils that rotate, gun's targets eyeing you up and down.

Under his calculated gaze, you feel seen, heard, and understood all within the span of a few seconds. Everyone around you seems non existent, they cower in the dark corners of the saloon as the predator approaches you in clicking heels on a wooden floor.

He thinks you look like a little girl. With your legs kicking the air softly, your hands resting beneath your thighs as you gaze up at him with nothing but wonder and curiosity. He doesn't know if he likes it, he's used to siren lulls of scandalous dances, spending a few hours to relish in the plush of steamy nights with what people would call models, but to him, nothing but discarded digits of pleasure. He doesn't even know why he participates in such acts. He's not a human anymore, can't feel a warm body against his, it itches him. Not being able to touch and feel and caress. It makes him go crazy, often shooting bullets at aging walls when he thinks about it too much.

He likes you. How different you are to him, how new you are to him. He feels like it's okay to slow down just this once. He takes a seat next to you. Resting his elbow on the wooden bar, his fist cushioning his cheek as his eyes stay locked on you. You imitate him. Staring at him just as intently. With just as much wonder.

"Can I buy you a drink, sugar?"

MASTERLIST ⋮ CHAPTER Ⅱ . . .

#ᯓ ⁍ˎˊ˗˗˗˗˗ 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 #❝ WANTED FOR A FATAL ATTRACTION . . . ❞ #✶≼[HONKAI: STAR RAIL] #ஜ˳༄꠶ BOOTHILL #ఌ︎. [BOOTHILL] #boothill #boothill hsr #hsr boothill #honkai star rail #honkai boothill #honkai star rail boothill #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x female reader #honkai x reader #honkai x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x female reader #boothill x reader #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #boothill x female reader #boothill fluff #boothill angst #boothill fanfic

[ssailormoonn]

❛ Enemies to lovers ❜

Uchiha Sasuke X Fem!Reader

| SFW | REQUEST? yes | ! headcanons !

REQUEST :: @bejeweledgirl - Hiiii!! Could you please write Sasuke x reader enemies to lovers head canons? Thank you !!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

a/note :: also, Julie, by any chance do we follow each other on wattpad, or am i tweaking? but other than that, i hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

WC; 1.6k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; sasuke is a trigger warning by himself, not anything suggestive but sasuke is mean guys bsf. Prerouge!Sasuke X fem!Reader & Rouge!Sasuke X fem!Reader

NARUTO MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

Konoha path (before he leaves the village - meeting him in Konoha)

If we are talking about how you two meet in Konoha, it will have to start back at the Academy. Sasuke absolutely hated you for no absolute reason, but then he grew a reason, he thought you were weak and were a nuisance. He believes that you shouldn't even belong in the Academy. In truth, you are quite strong, but he refuses to see that because he is convinced that you are below him.

It started with you two getting put on the same team, Team 7, and then that just made him realise that your abilities weren't so useless after all, but he still believed that you were weak and had no business being a ninja. This caused you to begin to hate him as well, you started hating his cold demeanour and how avenging his clan and getting stronger was his entire personality.

But, despite your mutual disdain, there were moments when you couldn't help but admire his skill and dedication. During battles, you found yourselves instinctively covering each other's backs, an unspoken acknowledgment of each other's abilities. Even after those moments though, you two will go back to silently hating each other, Sasuke more openly than you.

Sasuke's mentality is, 'I have to keep eyes on her because she is too weak to be left on her own devices.' Yours is, 'I don't understand why he thinks I'm so weak, maybe I have to show my teamwork better.'

These fleeting instances of teamwork made you question the depth of your animosity. During combat you two seem almost friendly with each other, but that isn't the case. It's because of the both of yours mentality that you seek each other out during battle., unconsciously protecting each other. Yet, outside of combat, the icy barrier between you remains impenetrable.

However, during the time he is in Team 7, you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you after the battles longer than necessary, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes whenever he thought no one was watching.

There was one mission that Sasuke had to react in a way different that before, making sure that your weak ass didn't get hurt. It was during one particularly grueling mission that everything changed. Trapped and outnumbered, you sustained a severe injury. Sasuke's reaction was immediate and his protective instinct overpowering his usual detachment.

Sasuke fought with an emotion you had never seen, he ensured your safety, befiore his own which after the mission he bet himself over with. Sasuke had wasted precious time to save you during a mission? Impossible? He unconsciously knew that you were weak and helped you before you got killed.

You were surprised, obviously, you thought you were going to die.

After that mission, the dynamic between you two shifted. Sasuke, while still reserved, began to seek you out during training sessions, his critiques less harsh and more constructive. In some occasions, he'd even ask you for some help, but he was obviously abrasive about it.

The banter that once felt hostile now carried an undercurrent of mutual respect and both you and Sasuke found yourself looking forward to these moments. The trust that developed was tentative, but it was there, a fragile bridge spanning the gap between enemies and allies.

As you spent more time together, you uncovered layers of Sasuke's personality that he rarely revealed. His dry sense of humor, the way his eyes softened when he briefly mentioned something about his past (whether it was something bad or good), and his unwavering determination to protect those he cared about.

The transformation in your relationship became undeniable; the animosity that once defined your interactions was replaced by a deep, unspoken bond. You realised that the line between enemies and lovers is often thinner than it seems, and sometimes, the most profound connections are forged in the crucible of shared struggles and quiet understanding.

It was only so close before Sasuke left the village, and in the end, what began as a hating for each other, turned into something far more complex. Sasuke's journey towards redemption mirrored your own path to understanding and acceptance.

It was after Sasuke told you what his goal was to do, that he wanted to leave the village to find power and you understood him for that. You didn't try your hardest to bring him back to the village, you didn't shed any tears because this is what Sasuke truly wanted, you were going to acknowledge. Right there and then, when you spoke about how you felt, he swore something heating grew inside him.

You weren't going to be mad at him, not yell at him for his decision.

Rouge Ninja path (after he left the village - meeting him while he's a rouge)

You met Uchiha Sasuke under the worst circumstances. Freshly allied with Orochimaru, you were tasked with monitoring him, a job you found as intriguing as it was dangerous. Sasuke, ever brooding and aloof, made it clear he despised every second of your company.

To him, you were an unwanted shadow, a reminder of his own perceived failures and entanglements. You, on the other hand, found a strange enjoyment in teasing him, perhaps as a way to mask your own insecurities. It wasn’t long before you realised that your constant presence irked him to no end.

From the moment you met, there was an electric tension between you two. You could see it in the way his eyes narrowed whenever you entered the room, the tight set of his jaw when you spoke.

"You're in my way," he'd mutter, his voice laced with venom. Yet, you never backed down. If anything, you pushed harder, finding joy in the cracks of his icy demeanor. "Is that so, Sasuke? Or do you just hate that I'm not afraid of you?"

Every mission together was a battle of wits. You were skilled, undeniably so, and it grated on Sasuke's nerves. He couldn't stand the way you seemed to predict his moves, the way you challenged his decisions. But more than that, he hated how your presence made him feel – conflicted.

There was a part of him that begrudgingly respected your strength and wit, even if he would never admit it. You could tell in the way his eyes would flicker with something akin to appreciation when you executed a flawless jutsu or navigated a tricky situation with ease.

Despite the underlying tension, there were moments of surprising camaraderie. One evening, after a grueling training session, you found yourself sitting side by side (unintentionally of course), watching the sunset.

The silence was comfortable, a rare occurrence between you.

"Why did you join Orochimaru?" Sasuke asked suddenly, his voice softer than usual. You glanced at him, surprised by the question. "I have my reasons," you replied cryptically, your eyes fixed on the horizon. "Just like you."

The turning point came during a particularly brutal mission. Ambushed and outnumbered, you both found yourselves back-to-back, fighting for survival. In that moment, something shifted. You were no longer enemies, but reluctant allies.

Your synchronisation was flawless, an unspoken understanding passing between you. When the dust settled, and the enemies lay defeated, you turned to him, breathless and bruised. "Not bad, Sasuke," you said, a genuine smile breaking through your usual facade. For a split second, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

From then on, the hostility between you lessened, replaced by a grudging respect. Sasuke still rolled his eyes at your antics, but you noticed the way his gaze lingered a little longer, the way he sometimes sought your opinion. The walls he built around himself were high, but you found satisfaction in every small crack you created.

And Sasuke, though he would never say it, found himself looking forward to your company, your banter, your presence.

There were times when the barrier between you seemed almost impenetrable. Sasuke's memories of his clan, his brother, and the darkness he embraced to gain power often made him withdraw. You understood pain and loss, having your own share of scars, and sometimes, in those rare, quiet moments, you shared pieces of your past with him. He listened, not always responding, but you knew he heard you. It was in those moments that the chasm between you seemed to narrow, ever so slightly.

It was during one quiet evening, as you both rested by a campfire, that the tension finally broke. You were teasing him about his brooding nature when he snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close.

"Why do you always have to annoy me?" he demanded, his voice low and intense. You met his gaze, your heart pounding. "Maybe because I see something in you that you refuse to see in yourself," you whispered. His grip tightened for a moment, and then released, his expression unreadable.

In that moment, the distance between you evaporated. Sasuke's grip softened, his eyes searching yours. And then, before you knew it, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up frustration, anger, and undeniable attraction that had been building between you. When you finally pulled away, both breathless, you saw a different look in his eyes – not just anger or annoyance, but something deeper, something you both had been denying for far too long.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotion. You and Sasuke continued to train and take on missions, but there was a new layer to your relationship. The stolen glances, the subtle touches, and the occasional tender moment when you thought no one else was watching.

Sasuke began to see that there was more to life than vengeance and power – there was companionship, trust, and maybe even love.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

NARUTO MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

UCHIHA MASTER LIST

taglist :: @enouche @lovelyandproblematic @kayleegomez

#sasuke x reader #uchiha sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke headcanons #naruto x reader #sasuke enemies to lovers

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Could you do a Lookalike reader getting his hooves or ears brushed / cleaned by Alastor in a similar vein to the antler one? Maybe a standalone mini series of 'Parts I wanted to include in the main series but couldn't find space for it.'

I would be so up for that.

Hey man, thanks for the ask! I think I went a bit off-topic here, but I still think it's hot so I'm gonna post it. I've put a line for the more squeamish readers to stop at. Caveat emptor and all that.

Pairing: Alastor X reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: they/them pronouns, reader is a hermaphrodite, Foot stuff, Hoof stuff, scent glands, DEER THINGS, slight sexual content, Alastor being fucking weird

You didn’t know what was wrong with you at first. You’d held a variety of jobs during your mortal life, but vet wasn’t one of them. What you knew about medicine you knew from backwoods surgery, and what you knew about deer physiology was limited to the things that made their meat unsafe for consumption, the telltale lesions and growths on a carcass that meant it got burned or buried rather than butchered. This wasn’t one of those things.

There was a hard lump on the front of your leg, above where the keratin of your two standing nails ended and below the level of your dewclaws, close to the webbing of skin where your two toes joined. On a human this would have been the shin, but for you it felt more like your tarsal.

It had been small at first, and you had ignored it. Then it had grown larger, painful as it had rubbed against the tongue of your boot. Today you had limped your way through your shift at the hotel, your smile more of a grimace than anything that could genuinely be describes as cheerful, and retreated to the room you shared with Alastor as soon as your contract no longer compelled you to work.

Now you lay in the four-footed bathtub in Alastor’s ensuite bathroom, examining your hoof more thoroughly. Was this an abscess? Did you need to lance it? Your skin graded to a dark grey towards your red nails, so it was difficult to gauge the lump’s condition from color as it would be on a paler part of you. You were pushing at the lump with your fingers, feeling the heat of inflamed flesh when Alastor materialized from the shadows at the bathroom door, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?”

You hadn’t expected him to return to the room for hours, and even then, he generally gave you privacy when you were cleaning yourself. Fear shot through you like a cold wave in your stomach, the feeling of being caught, and you fought the reflex to hide your leg from Alastor. Your career as a serial killer would have been short-lived if you weren’t able to hide guilt, after all. “Do you mind?” you said, broadcasting annoyance.

Alastor looked unimpressed, taking a step closer. “I asked you a question,” he said.

“I would think it’s fairly apparent, but right now I was thinking of cutting my nails,” you lied, smoothly. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, looking for you,” said Alastor, his gaze settling on the red tips of your hooves. “I was about to cook dinner for everyone, and I could do with a sous chef who doesn’t try to boil themselves every time I set a pot of water on the heat or drink all the wine before it goes in the sauce.” He moved closer, arms behind his back. “Though I suppose those are getting rather long,” he said, eyes still on your standing nails, the two red points on the end of each of your hooves. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I couldn’t put you out,” you raised a hand in protest, but Alastor was already in the space with you, bending to fetch a pedicure kit full of small knives, curved clippers and different grades of files from the cupboard that stood next to the basin.

“Nonsense, my dear, pure nonsense.” Alastor took a seat on the painted metal stool that lived next to the tub and looked down at you, teeth gleaming. “I hope you don’t mean to say I’m not up to the task.”

“Of course not,” you frowned, and Alastor clicked his tongue in disapproval as he took your good leg in his hand.

Disapproval at your facial expression did nothing to stop Alastor’s roving hands, however, the hand that was holding your leg stroking down the arch of your foot to the pads beneath as he fetched a pair of clippers from the box at his feet. The touch was pleasant, and deliberate, and the clippers resembled a pair of secateurs more than anything else, the sort that could easily remove a thumb if applied correctly.

“If you cut to here-” Alastor took your hand, pulling it to the pad of your hoof, where the flesh was attached to the backside of the nail, and traced a line, dragging your finger alongside his. “-the hoof will be too short, and you’ll injure yourself walking-” You listened carefully as Alastor talked, moving your fingers over your hoof so that you would know his instructions by touch. It would have been a relaxing, bonding activity, if it weren’t for the aching lump on your leg, and your growing anxiety at it being discovered. Alastor’s hands were gentle on the pads beneath your hooves, holding your leg perfectly steady as he made each cut.

He moved to your other leg, and you were sure he would notice the lump, but he said nothing, either ignorant or letting you stew in your own embarrassment as you lay in the warm bathwater, his skilled fingers squeezing the arch of your hoof, thumb brushing against your dewclaws as he repeated the process, leaving you enough length in your nail that you would be able to walk comfortably. Sweeping the red slivers of your hooves aside, Alastor took a pair of files from the box, one coarse, one fine, and you felt the vibrations through the nail and through the bones of your leg as he filed down the rough edges. He did it slowly, watching your face as he drew the file back and forth with a gradual movement, the sensation something like a shiver as the metal abraded the surface. When he was done, he ran a thumb over each edge, feeling for imperfections.

Alastor brushed away the fine pink dust with his hand and smiled at his handiwork. “There. That’s better, don’t you agree?”

You nodded, something like relief flooding through you when Alastor hadn’t addressed the problem. You were free to deal with it. Privately.

[nb: if you just wanted hoof clipping, stop reading here]

“And it’s high time we did something about that,” said Alastor, gaze sliding over your bad leg, and your sense of relief shattered. “After all, you didn’t really think there was any part of yourself that you could keep a secret from me, did you?” Alastor’s smile turned cruel, his finger tracing a gentle line up between the two toes of your cloven hoof to the lump, even the light pressure he applied excruciating, and you held your breath to not cry out. “You were limping, darling,” he continued, voice chiding. “I was worried.”

You blinked away tears of pain, studying Alastor’s expression. Really, you’d been embarrassed more than anything- the horror that the strange lump might be due to a failure of basic hygiene on your part, but the way that Alastor examined it without surprise told you that it was an issue he was at least familiar with. Maybe something he’d dealt with on his own body, in his early days in Hell.

“You know what it is?” you asked.

Alastor hummed, his fingers trailing down the freshly pedicured red keratin of your nails and round to the soft pads of flesh that sat behind them, pressing and probing. Oh, that felt nice. “You’ve field dressed a deer before,” he said, chiding. “You really should know this yourself.”

You sank a little deeper into the bath, pouting. “I was a hunter, not a veterinarian. I cut the hooves off before skinning. Dried them sometimes.”

“And I thought you were a curious person.” Alastor smiled to himself, seeming to enjoy having such an advantage over you. “But I suppose I should educate you.” His fingers ceased their massage of your spongy underfoot, and he parted your toes, his touch on the web of skin where the two of them joined. “You have a scent gland here,” he said, pressing his finger against a narrow vertical slit on your dark skin, less than an inch in length. Like the lump above it, it was tender. “It’s blocked. You should have come to me sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” You felt your ears drop, your leg relaxing a little in Alastor’s grip,

“That is quite the hangdog look you have.” Alastor’s smile grew thin, and he reached over to cup your cheek. “Fear not, I know a remedy.” His fingers lingered, tracing the grim line of your mouth. “It will be painful though, you think you can grin and bear it?”

Alastor always wanted a smile from you, but especially in difficult situations. You weren’t sure if it was sadism, a test, or some twisted beneficence on his part. “Of course,” you said.

“I will hold you to that, dearest,” said Alastor, raising your hoof to his lips. It was all you could do not to gasp when he ran his tongue between your two standing toes, laving the pad of each, a pleasurable but alien sensation. It made it easy to smile for him, and his eyes met yours, the corners creasing with approval. His hand cupped the back of your leg, the part that your brain still fuzzily equated to the arch of your foot, long fingers stroking the lines of the tendons. You had been intimate with him enough times that there was no terror for you in his teeth, only the disconcerting sensation of sharpness as he pressed his mouth to your spread toes, his lips a seal around your scent gland, and sucked.

To describe the sensation as pain was technically correct, but it would be like describing standing within a meter of a working jet engine as loud, or the sea as wet. It was a nerve pain, a primal sensation of wrongness. Pain conducted through the bones of your leg to your stomach and your spine, making you queasy and tearful all at once. But you had promised you would smile through this, so you fought for conscious control of your face, forcing your breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, pushing the tension that had collected in your shoulders down as you lay back in the bath, the corners of your mouth up. You spread the fingers of your hands over the lip of the bathtub, palms outward, arms trembling, and Alastor clasped one of your hands in his, squeezing.

Tears rolled hot down your face as Alastor continued, the sensation unrelenting, the only sound in the room your breathing and the low frequency hum from the lights above you. You were still smiling when Alastor’s thumb hooked around your leg, pressing into the cyst above your scent gland. More pain. A whimper in your throat that you could no longer suppress, the curve of your mouth a forced one. Alastor squeezed your hand tighter as he pushed, or perhaps you were squeezing his, and you felt movement in the gland, the inflamed tissue shifting as the blockage was pushed out. You sobbed once and it was gone, replaced by the sensation of pressure being released, Alastor’s tongue moving between your toes.

Alastor raised his mouth from your hoof, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. “You’re doing so well, darling,” he said, sweetly, and all of a sudden it was easy to smile again, his hand no longer in yours as he used both hands to handle and inspect your hoof. “Nearly done now.”

You peered at your hoof, the toes still splayed as Alastor massaged the cyst with his thumb. Your scent gland wept, oily yellow fluid spilling from it. It stank, an earthy, musky smell filling the room. Alastor could smell it- anything with a nose would be able to, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as Alastor kept your leg firmly in hand. He had probably tasted it, too.

“Guess I should rinse that off,” you said, your smile turning wry as you wrinkled your nose, trying to hide the mix of horror and shame that you felt.

“Absolutely not,” said Alastor firmly, lowering his head to your hoof and lapping at the mess with his tongue, his breath hot between your toes. Fuck. Your stomach tightened at the sight of it, the noise of his tongue almost obscene in the quiet of the bathroom. It was disgusting and erotic all at once, Alastor’s eyes fixing yours with a fervid intensity as he breathed in your scent, and you found yourself hard, the throbbing pain that you’d felt moments before receding to arousal like a curtain revealing a stage.

If Alastor noticed your state, he chose not to acknowledge it, instead teasing the last of your scent from your gland with his mouth and his thumb and planting a soft kiss over the abused tissue; one that was painful by most people’s definitions of pain, but from him it was almost romantic, his lips the barest pressure. You knew better than to raise the matter- that would make him tease you, at best, leave you aching and unfulfilled. What Alastor gave was on his own terms.

“Incomparable, as ever,” Alastor murmured, as if what he had eaten had been drizzled across a plate in a Michelin starred restaurant and not licked fresh from between your toes. “You will come to me for these things in future, hm?”

“Is that a request?” you asked, a rough edge to your voice.

“Given your reaction, I don’t think it’s too tall an order, do you?” Alastor flashed his teeth, flirtatious and sinister all at once.

#alastor x reader #lookalikeposting #antlerposting

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Not About the Sleep

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

A/N: I've been Going Thru It this last week, but I've been wanting to post something for ya'll for months. So I wrote this for myself to share :)

Your phone was on the other end of the room. It buzzed occasionally, but you never bothered to get up and check it. Curling in on yourself, you closed your eyes, waiting to drift back off to sleep. 

A few knocks on your door caused you to inhale sharply. 

“Helllooooo? You in there? You alive?” It was Lucifer. You ignored the concerned edge in his voice. 

“I’m alive,” you responded back, not bothering to move or open your eyes. “I’m just tired.”

There was a long pause. “Wellllll… Can I come in? Is that okay?” Lucifer then started muttering, “Will Alastor kill me if I go in? No, there’s no way. Well, maybe? Gah! I don’t know.”

When there wasn’t a response, you heard the door creak open lightly. Opening your eyes, you managed to sit up a little. Lucifer stood in the doorway, dressed casually. He was fidgeting with his apple cane, looking around at your messy room. 

“Oh, man,” he whispered, before clearing his throat. “Do you… want to come downstairs? For lunch? Charlie cooked this time, she’s excited to show you.”

Sighing a little, you shook your head. “I’m alright. Thanks for the offer, though.” You’d expected that to be it, already grabbing the covers to pull back over your shoulders. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucifer sounded serious this time, more serious than he’d ever spoken to you before. 

“I’m just tired, Luci.” You gave him a small smile to reassure him, but he didn’t look reassured. “Just need some sleep, that’s all.”

Lucifer swallowed. He stopped fidgeting now, his apple cane firmly on the ground. “You’ve been sleeping for over fifteen hours. You and I both know it’s not about sleep at this point.”

You were quiet. Logically, you knew he was right. Of course he was right. He’d know the best of everyone here. But you just wanted to sleep. There was nothing a little sleep couldn’t fix, right? You’d be right as rain by dinner, you were sure of it. 

“I’m fine, Lucifer.” Your tone was colder than you’d meant it to be, silently apologizing to your first. “Tell Charlie I’ll have some of her leftovers or something later.” 

Pulling the covers over your head, you firmly shut your eyes and waited for sleep to take you again. That was all you needed. Just a little more sleep. 

As Lucifer pulled the door closed, you could’ve sworn you’d heard him say something, but you missed it. 

Bringing your knees to your chest, you considered Lucifer’s words. “We both know it’s not about sleep at this point.” He was wrong, surely. You hadn’t gotten like that in ages, not since Alastor had come back. You’d been fine for so long, and you were always able to catch it. Always able to say something, to let someone know you needed help. You would know if something was wrong. And nothing was wrong. You were just tired. That was it. 

But what if he was right? What if it was getting bad again? You couldn’t bear to think about it, especially now that Alastor was here to talk reason into you. The things you’d considered while Alastor was gone scared you even now, and you had sworn you’d never let things get that bad ever again. 

You were just overreacting, that was all. It was the weather, surely, or something like that. Everything would be fine. Everything was always fine. It was fine. You were fine. 

Your senses came to you slowly. You must’ve finally fallen back to sleep, but who in their right mind would wake you back up? What part of, “I just need some sleep,” did people not understand? 

The crackling of jazz music is what you heard first, followed by the familiar sound of Alastor’s humming. It was dark outside now (not that it made a difference with the curtains closed) and a few lights had been turned on in your room. The entire place was filled with dim, orange light. 

Oh, no. Not Alastor. Of all people, you really didn’t want to see Alastor. 

There was no pretending to be asleep around Alastor. He could usually hear as soon as you woke up and your breathing picked up again. With a groan, you sat up, your eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

“Ah! Good evening, my dear!” Alastor said cheerily. He was folding your clothes at your desk. The same clothes, you realized, that had been laying in a basket untouched for a week. “I took the liberty of cleaning your room for you, I do hope you don’t mind.”

“Alastor, why… I…  thought I locked the door after Lucifer left.” A glass of water sat at your bedside, still cold. You obviously hadn’t put it there.

“You did!” Alastor smiled. “I don’t care for locks, you know. Do drink some water, dearest.”

You couldn’t help but scowl at him, but Alastor was quick to match your gaze. Rather than start an argument you knew you’d lose, you drank some of the water as asked. Actually, you ended up drinking the whole glass. You hadn’t even realized how thirsty you were. 

“Imagine my surprise when Lucifer, of all people, came to tell me he was worried about you. I laughed at him, of course. Worried about you? Preposterous! You’d tell me if you were ill, I assured him, but…” Alastor paused, folding your final piece of laundry. “Dear Husker informed me how my absence affected you, so I thought a little drop-in wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fuck those guys,” you muttered to yourself, massaging the bridge of your nose. “I just need some sleep, Al, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I said!” Alastor declared, clearly happy someone agreed with him. “But then Miss Charlie went on and on about some sort of ‘mental health’ nonsense. It was all quite annoying.”

Alastor started skillfully putting your clothes away. It was clear he knew exactly where everything went. How, you had no idea, but this was Alastor we were talking about. 

He continued, “but I saw the sorry state of your room! How appalling! But I wasn’t about to wake you, so I did a little spring cleaning. Rosie is always telling me how a little cleaning can do a lot to improve a person’s mood. Speaking of Rosie, she was telling me about the most dastardly customer she had to deal with the other day! I brought back a little bit of them for you.”

So you sat there in your bed, listening to Alastor talk about his week while he cleaned your room. It did manage to bring a small smile to your face, especially once Alastor started slipping jokes into his stories. 

You were going to have to get Lucifer and Husk back for ratting you out, but that was a problem for later. For now, all you had to worry about was Alastor not rearranging your whole room so he could do who-know-what to it. And you’d have to tell Rosie she was right about the whole cleaning thing, but part of you knew it wasn’t just about the cleaning.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x reader queerplatonic #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin alastor #rhys-writes #its short but idc #alastor loves you (platonically)

[munsonsmixtapes]

🦇 💞 🏕️

(ily)

ily2

Eddie x bestie!fem!reader

cw: brief mention of alcohol, vomit, and smoking, reader has a panic attack

summary: your best friend Eddie takes you camping and you have every intention of telling him that you love him as more than just a friend

You had been looking forward to your camping trip with Eddie for weeks and now that he was on his way to pick you up, you were nothing but nervous. You had been in love with the man since the moment you had met him and had only hid your feelings because you were sure that he didn’t feel the same.

After a few drinks at a party you had gone to with him, Steve had told you that Eddie had loved you too, but you were still hesitant to talk to him about it. You weren’t exactly sure why, but the thought terrified you. Going from friends to lovers. It would be different and you weren’t sure if you wanted different. But you felt like he deserved to know so maybe you should have told him the truth.

You saw Eddie’s van pull into his driveway from your bedroom window and felt bile climb up your throat as you grabbed your duffel bag that was sitting on your bed. You swallowed your vomit and took a deep breath before heading down the stairs. Your hand rested on the handle of the front door, but you couldn’t get yourself to open it. All of the endless possibilities of something going wrong swirled in your head and it all made you feel dizzy.

You shook your head and then put on a smile as you opened the door, heading towards the van that Eddie was leaning against with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His hair was pulled away from his face in a very loose bun and he was dressed in a muscle tank with the sides cut open and a pair of very short shorts. The whole look made him look so hot that you couldn’t even comprehend it.

His face lit up when he saw you and he put out his cigarette with the bottom of his shoe before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug as if he hadn’t seen you the day before. Eddie always gave the best hugs. They were filled with so much love and he’d hold on as long as the person he was holding wanted. Being in his arms could have easily solved so many of your problems. All of them except the glaring one that wouldn’t leave your mind.

“You okay?” He asked when he pulled away from you. The only bad thing about Eddie was that he always knew when something was wrong. One look at your face and he was asking you how you were doing. In that moment, you were fine. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

“I’m fine, Eds,” you nodded. “Now, we have a long trip ahead of us, so let’s hit the road.” You hit the side of his van twice with the palm of your hand then handed your bag to Eddie who put it in the back before heading over to your side and opening the passenger door for you.

“It’s only thirty minutes,” he laughed as he closed the door once you were safely inside. You knew that, but it was definitely going to feel long with the secret you were hiding. If you had it your way, you would have canceled the trip, but you couldn’t have done that to Eddie, especially not because he was so excited.

The silence between you was deafening. It felt like the walls were closing in on you and your breathing was getting heavy. Everything was sounding was muffled, even the loud metal mixtape that was playing from the stereo. Your breathing was becoming more labored and your chest was getting tight. You could breathe, but it felt like it was constricted.

As soon as Eddie realized what was going on with you, he pulled over to the shoulder of the road and as soon as he was parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt and got out of the car, making a beeline for the grassy area that was to your right. You just needed some fresh air.

You raced into the grass and Eddie was quick to follow, needing to make sure that you were okay. To him. It seemed like you were having a panic attack and he surely didn’t want you to be alone for that. He was going to help you every step of the way.

“Y/n,” he called after you, but you kept running. He chased after you and eventually caught up to you, grabbing onto your wrist as gently as he could. You were still breathing heavily and he was nervous for you. He had never seen you like that.

“Honey,” he rested his hands on your shoulders, his eyes looking straight into yours. Looking up into those pretty pools of honey, your breath shuttered and you felt tears well up in your eyes. This tears turned into sobs and Eddie was quick to wrap you up in his arms.

“Hey,” he said softly, his hands running up and down your back. “What’s going on, hon?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed. “I’m fine.”

“Fine? Y/n, you had a panic attack. What is going on?”

“You wanna know what’s going on?” You asked, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “Eddie, I’m in love with you!” Everything stopped when you said the words and all Eddie could do was gasp. He honestly didn’t know what to say, but all he could do was smile.

“Have been since the moment I met you and Steve told me that you feel the same way, but I was terrified to mention it because I didn’t want things to change, but now I do.”

“And you know what?” He squeezed your shoulders. “I’m scared too.”

“You are?”

“Mhm,” he nodded. “But I’m willing to take a chance if you are.”

“I am.”

“Guess the only thing left to do is seal this thing with a kiss,” he winked. Your arms wrapped around his waist while his moved around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a dizzying kiss.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff