#they clearly haven’t learned anything

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

#könig x reader #könig x you #könig fanfiction #yandere könig #tw: dark content #könig smut

[thehmn]

It might simply be that I don’t frequent ADHD forums enough but I haven’t seen a whole lot of talk about learned social withdrawal.

As a child I made friends left and right but as we all turned into self-conscious teenagers it slowly became more and more difficult for me. Plain and simple, other people thought I was weird. For some reason I never got bullied which I think is related to something my teachers kept telling my parents “She’s such a sweet, bright child and we can tell she’s not malicious or trying to be disruptive on purpose but we can’t teach her anything”

Basically people couldn’t figure me out. I had good social skills with both children and adults, I had a good moral compass, i felt compassion and empathy for others and was willing to go against my friends if I felt they were being bullies, I taught myself English and my drawings showed good observation skills. Because of all that it was decided I should start school a year sooner than most kids and my parents were very proud. Unfortunately that’s probably one of the main reasons why I was never diagnosed with raging ADHD as a child. People soon realized I didn’t do well in a school setting but assumed it was because I “wasn’t done playing” and my ADHD symptoms were interpreted as childishness.

So as I got older my classmates started to distance themselves from me. They were always kind and friendly but they didn’t know how to deal with me and ever since then people have always been worryingly comfortable with calling me weird to my face. I get the impression it’s because they think it’s a choice on my part. To them I’m clearly of “normal intelligence” so I must be acting like this on purpose and my parents would repeatedly tell me to “just act normal” as a child when I told them I was struggling to make friends. I tried so damn hard but kept failing. I knew something had to be different about me and when I first heard about ADHD I thought “That’s me! That’s how I feel!” but my parents said that was impossible because I wasn’t hyperactive.

Because nobody wanted to help me I eventually learned to just stop trying to make friends and keep to myself. I was so tired of being told by friendly, well-meaning people that I was so weird and quirky and unique only for them to distance themselves once they realized it was permanent and not something I could turn on and off for parties. I always enjoyed being alone so it wasn’t a huge loss but it did feel incredibly lonely at times.

Things got a lot better when I became an adult, mostly because adults are generally more chill than teens so my ADHD behavior isn’t as embarrassing to them and ironically they’re often surprised to learn I don’t make friends easily. Unfortunately I learned to be withdrawn in my formative years so new friends are still a rarity. Before I really sat down and put my past into context I even started to wonder if I had autism despite not connecting with anything autistic people said about their experiences. I went as far as to be tested but wasn’t surprised when the diagnosis was negative because of course it was, I kinda already knew that. I was just looking for an explanation.

So while there can be overlap between ADHD and autism (I have just such a friend) my experience is also that oftentimes people with ADHD simply learn to stay away from social situations and entertain ourselves which ends up looking like autism to outsiders.

#adhd #add #autism

[simplyreveries]

hihiii!!! if you haven’t done this already can you do housewardens and a s/o who’s based off of their movies princesses? :3

saw this request and fell in LOVE yes yes

riddle rosehearts

riddle always seems to notice how oh so curious you were- though he feels it would be inevitable when you're in a completely new world. you're always asking and inquiring him and others within the dorm and school wondering all about the great seven, nrc, twisted wonderland itself! to which riddle is quite proud of and content with sharing you about, he has an abundance of knowledge and is more than willing to share.

before your relationship when you first started to get to know him and his headstrong and strict ways — you had definitely surprised him when you stubbornly got upset with him and told him off (especially after the fact he was mean to you for being magicless…). he was taken aback as you had normally been quiet and even polite towards others.

always seems to be curious whenever you're off and seemingly zoned at— you tend to daydream a lot. whenever he tries to study with you, you usually huff and be distracted as you continue. he’ll shake his head and try to tell you that this is important, riddle will continuously make failed attempts at reminding you to do better when he gets distracted himself when he finds himself staring at you off in your own world.

he does enjoy how intelligent and observant you are. you always seem to give him good ideas when he’s troubled with something as dorm leader— and having dorm leader duties. he occasionally will come to you for advice when it comes to celebrations or unbirthday parties and such— he believes you have quite the creative mind as well.

leona kingscholar

when he had originally met you, he was instinctually nicer to you only for the fact he respects you all the more with your more headstrong but sensible self. leona will groan annoyed with you, but he would do basically anything if you asked him to—despite with how lighthearted you seem about something he just knows just how persistent and stubborn you can be. he honestly loves it that you're perfectly okay with challenging him and teasing him, he likes a bit of banter anyways from you.

he doesn't say it but loves it whenever you try to be playful and affectionate with him. he thinks it's cute how bold you are when it comes to kissing him or hugging him. he’ll have some stupid smirk on his face and tell you you’ve got some guts doing that to him all the time and every single time you have some retort for him.

you tend to push him (force him with a look) to be more active with his own dorm leader duties… not skipping classes to sleep… not putting effort into stuff he isn't interested in despite being in fact really talented. he’ll ask you if you'll only reward him with your affection if he does, it's what he thinks he deserves.

azul ashengrotto

you're always so eager and excited learning about twisted wonderland — he finds it so amusing as you're constantly pestering and asking him what things mean or what something was. what's funny though is that he’s still learning a lot still about life on land too. he is flattered that you seem just as curious about life in the ocean for him, though there are… more difficult memories he has dealt with there in his childhood, he still will share to you whatever you want to know.

azul only finds your curiosity of this whole world to be rather cute. as you're always trying to do things for keepsake, taking many pictures with your ghost camera anytime and anywhere or collect souvenirs and trinkets of places. he seemed confused as to why you had some plants in your room at ramshackle and you only laughed and said you found them interesting...! also, he would totally feel a twinge of pride and ego boost when you compliment his coin collection and seem amazed by it.

okay never mind what he tried to trick you for in chapter 3 but he clearly, he can see how gullible you can be and often seems stressed when he sees how sometimes other students try to take advantage of that. he swiftly approaches by your side and manages to have the poor student a nervous wreck around him for the reputation he holds for what he can do with those twins.

he is swooning anytime he hears you singing and humming to yourself, especially whenever you're doing shifts and working around the mostro lounge. you'll find him in his tired and more clingy moments of him asking you to simply just hum a melody he likes when he's lying next to you, he could simply listen to your voice all day.

kalim al asim

kalim loves your adventurous spirit, he will always be happy to bring you along on some carpet ride whenever you seem saddened because he knows all the sites of the desert at night can be so pretty. sometimes you two may get yourselves into little mishaps and trouble around school and campus but he’s never fazed by it, he loves it actually. he also tells you many times though, that he plans on bring you to his homelands so you can meet his family but also to show you around and go through the streets!

as you're someone who's really confrontational and no-nonsense kind of person— whenever you're dealing with some troublesome student, he's surprised but quickly turns to a happy support when you tell someone off. you’ll have kalim be like “yeah you tell them!!” right beside you just watching it unfold alskdjfjs. the first time he saw even a glimpse of that fiery attitude you hold inside was during the events of chapter 4 and you got into Jamil’s face got trying to manipulate you with his magic and sending you to the ends of the desert…! wow he was surprised but wow was he in love.

much alike you kalim as undoubtedly lived a sheltered life with his family during his youth in- he wants to explore and try new things with you all the time. he's practically dragging you out the door every day.

vil schoenheit

he didn't completely understand as to why you're always so chipper and happy. even before you two got into a relationship when he was staying at ramshackle with the others for the vdc training and saw the conditions of the place- yet you were so content with your situation. he’d find you doing your own thing getting work and cleaning down to keep yourself busy or go about helping the others as their “unofficial official manager”. you seemed to find the positives and happiness for anything that happened to you.

vil did grow fond of your voice and wanted to hear it more— he even wondered as to why you didn't try out for it yourself, as he believed you were blossoming with potential. he usually would catch you doing quite often and even helping the others prepare for the contest like epel, sing. he couldn't help but only grow intrigued with you as he heard you using your voice commonly.

your softness around him and others really brings out his more loving side— he can't help but almost feel more protective of you as well. he tries to remind and advise you to be more careful around the students here… he happens to be quite worried of your kindness being used to the advantage of troublesome students here. nevertheless, he’ll softly smile, carefully fix your uniform and tell you “tsk… don't you worry, dear.” if anything of that sorts even attempts to happen.

idia shroud

you're the straightforward and blunt one in contrast to his quiet and unconfrontational self. it's the perfect combination you guys are literally the epitome of “he asked for no pickles” BYE. any interaction idia had with you at first had him flustered and stumbling for his words— not only that but he was completely enthralled by you as well. double hit. idia had even believed that you were someone that was really out of his league and had no idea on how to even begin approaching someone such as yourself.

though you two are a like, you two aren't only in a relationship but you guys are literally each other's best friends as well. you are, whether you admit it or not, seem to be a bit lonely like him. its fine though because you get an extra friend when you start dating him, ortho!! duh… he will immediately accept you as his new sibling the minute he sees idia actually being genuinely giddy and happy around you.

despite how difficult he felt to even attempt to pursue someone like you… being someone like him. he only felt more of a sense of persistence and even infatuation when you tend to be abrasive and untrusting to others (i need to unlock their backstory hihihi) it made him feel too stubborn to give up the idea. not like he could've gotten you out his head anyways.

malleus draconia

malleus has the biggest soft spot for you and its incredibly obvious. he always tells you himself, he’d chuckle and tell you that you remind him of the princess in the tale that cursed into years of slumber. he finds your daydream-y disposition so endearing and usually instead of saying anything about it he silently watches you with a loving gaze of adornment.

he does have a protective streak over you, he can’t help but feel that way. he always seems to be worried about you in some way. he doesn't really talk about his concerns unless its lilia asking him what the troubled expression is for. he sometimes grows fearful of a human such as yourself from another world and being too gentle and kind to the others around you. i mean, just look at how sweet and accepting of himself when you first met him. you had no idea who he really was— a prince and the 5th strongest magic user in the world. yet, he couldn't help but feel like that personality is what made him fall for you even more.

he sometimes thinks you are like silver, as you sometimes have your own moments of tiredness and exhaustion fall on you. he finds it endearing and will make sure he is someone you're able to lean on when seemingly tired. he’ll gentle put his hand on the side of your head and guide it to lay against him.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #not proof read #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader #dorm leaders x reader

[hyacinth--girl]

Any EALD teachers on here wanna help me with a needs analysis since my tutor is funking useless lmao

#I’ve actually had the most frustrating year my whole class (8 of us) feel like we haven’t learned a thing from our tutor #and she’s good friends with the masters coordinator so we don’t feel like we can complain #we all put a lot of complaints in the unit evaluations last semester but she clearly hasn’t changed anything #anyhoo #EALD teaching #needs analysis #second language learning

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Mentions of being drunk.

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who showed up at your work in the morning with your bagel and coffee like he did every time when you had Gabriella for the week. Knowing how you hadn’t eaten anything, waving off your concern about him going out of his way to bring it to you.

Baby daddy!Miguel who, despite knowing he will probably be late to work due to traffic this morning being abysmal, he still lingered around your work desk after dropping off your food. Not-so subtly hinting about talking about what happened during the weekend. Shooting him a glare to shush because you know how nosy your coworkers can be.

Baby daddy!Miguel who finally leaves for work, but not before you agree to discuss the unignorable conversation, later on of course, away from the ears of your coworkers and definitely not around the nosy girl that was your daughter.

—

Once the elevator doors closed behind him, you haven’t even gotten a chance to blink, let alone gather your bearings before your coworkers started up.

“Who was thaaaat?”

“Her ex-husband.”

“No, they never got married, remember? That’s her baby daddy.”

“Giiiirl, a man like him? One can dream.”

“I know right? Those muscles put my husband to shame, and he’s a firefighter. Why does a scientist need to be that jacked anyways.”

“Okay are you guys done ogling at my ex?” You finally spoke up, irrational so apparent that it made the other three girls quiet down almost immediately. You couldn’t help but feel your chest burning a bit as you took a bite of your bagel.

—

Baby mommy!Reader who finally got to clock out after a long day of work. One foot already out the door once the clock struck 5pm so she could go pick up Gabriella from after school soccer practice.

Baby mommy!Reader who listened to her daughter rambling about her day at school and practice, telling her all the juicy middle school gossip she learned on her first day while the two sat in the afternoon traffic.

Baby mommy!Reader who felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when she turned the corner into her hallway and saw her ex sitting in front of her front door. Clearly not sober.

No, not Miguel, the other ex.

Baby mommy!Reader who hurriedly guided her daughter back towards where she came off the elevator, thankfully he didn’t see either of them turn the corner. Ignoring Gabi’s voice questioning why she turned away once she saw Henry, rather than walk up to him and greet him with a hug and a peck on the lips like Gabi had grown used to.

Baby mommy!Reader who assured her little girl that she’ll explain later. Before pulling out her phone, and opening up the messages app.

—

Miguel. -You

?? -Miguel

can you do me a favor? -You

What’s the favor? -Miguel

Henry is camping outside of my front door and me and Gabriella can’t go inside without facing him. He looks drunk. -You

I’ll be there in 20, stay in the lobby. -Miguel

—

Ten minutes later, Miguel came marching through the front door of the apartment building. Letting his scowl fade away so as to not let his daughter catch it. She didn’t need to know what he was about to do to Henry.

“Hey honey,” he scooped down to give Gabriella a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, before standing up straight to look at you. Pulling you into a hug as well so he can whisper his next words. “He didn’t touch either of you, did he?” You quickly shook your head no.

“Didn’t even see us.” You whispered back.

“Good.” He finally let his arm leave the small of your back, leaving the cold air to hit your back once more. “ Gabriella, you and mom are gonna go down to that nail salon down the street, and get some manicures and pedicures. We’ll explain everything when you get back.” He explained calmly, too calmly, as he reached for his wallet and pulled out a few twentys from it, handing it to you. You didn’t even get a chance to protest the action because he started to gently push you both back out of the complex building.

Now I can deal with this stupid rat once and for all.

—

Part 7<

Not proofread.

Word count: 700

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

Taglist: : @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood @miguelsfavwife

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara blurb #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel ohara spiderman #spiderman 2099 blurb

[yxami]

Yandere coworker!!

Desc: Yandere coworker x gn reader, general Yandere behaviors, possessive, a pinch of toxicity, jealousy, and other things. He’s pretty tame compared to others.

Coworkers, meant to keep relationships within company time and inside the workplace, but a few drinks with the boss and others wouldn’t hurt right? You tell yourself that as you get ready for it, putting on nice shoes you wouldn’t usually wear and a casual outfit for dinner.

It’ll go by fast and you won’t drink that much, at least not enough to have a hangover.

But your plan fails when one of your coworkers insists you drink more than your tolerance can handle, one shot after another before you can notice that you’re tipsy and stumbling over your own words, and seemingly nothing on the ground but you don’t pay enough mind to it.

“Here, cheers to another shot” Your pushy coworker hands you another, or at least attempts to before a veiny hand pushes the tiny glass away.

“That’s enough. Can’t you see how drunk they are?” An intimidating but familiar voice speaks, your coworker that you’ve hardly spoken to defends you. He was always a quiet one, keeping to himself, he was scary but always did what he was told by the boss. You’ve tried being nice but he seems like a shut in so you stayed inside your cubicle that happened to be right by his.

“Awh cmon, don’t be a wimp, another won’t hurt you right?” He turns his focus back on you, a wobbly smile on his face, clearly showing the intoxicated state he caused for himself.

“No, and you should stop drinking, we all have work tomorrow.” He stands up, towering over him as he denies the drink for you once again. “Let’s go, I’ll take you home” He sighs, helping you to lean on his side as much as you can with the height difference.

He might as well carry you..

“Mm’ fine, I’lll…. just order a cab home” You slur your words, trying not to cause trouble on a coworker you’ve hardly spoken to other than saying “yes, no, over there” every now and then to each other.

“I insist. It’s too late anyways and I’ve hardly drank, I just hope these idiots can manage to find their way home” He sighs, looking at the passed out coworkers and your boss somehow still preforming songs on the karaoke machine.

You stay quiet after that, observing his serious expression and cologne, it smelt nice, like a cold fall breeze before a walk. You recall the way your boss insisted for everyone to dress casual, but here he was, in a suit without worry about you vomiting all over it or in his car, buckling you in, mimicking a child with its parent.

The car drive seems rather short, at least for you, but time seemed to go a snails pace for him while he drove.

Why did he offer help? It’s not like he cares about you, but he couldn’t sit and let you get fed shot after shot, clearly that guy didn’t know his own limit. And plus, he was leaving so it was convenient to take you home, even though you weren’t on the way..

He shouldn’t have helped, what if you assumed the two of you were buddy buddy now? He hates that shit, someone clinging onto him because they believe they’ve made a breakthrough in his just because he keeps things professional.

They only care about what makes them feel special and hell, they weren’t in the slightest.

But you don’t act that way, if anything you were the complete opposite.

“Thank you for driving me home, I was definitely way too drunk to do so” You laugh slightly, thankful that he troubled himself to bring you home. It was a little embarrassing to recall how he put you to bed and made you drink water before he left.

“No problem, next time learn how to say no, it’s not hard” He casually delivers a brutally honest sentence, you can’t decipher whether if it was a kind gesture or not but continue on.

“You’re right, I haven’t grown a spine yet” You joke, smiling this time with your words. “I brought you some food I picked up before work, I hope you like baked goods, I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a small container of everything” You grab the cardboard box you had on your desk and hand it to him, hoping he at least wanted one.

“Oh.. thanks.” He quietly says, looking down at the small box in his hands. You nod and try to focus on your work after that, attempting to not riddle yourself with worry about how you may have given a shitty ‘thank you!’ gift.

After that, you would attempt to befriend him, as much as he would let you. You never pushed further than what he gave, you wanted to be kind so you weren’t exactly best friends but you were able to greet him unlike the others who couldn’t.

“Do you want to eat lunch together?”

“Huh?”

“Eat lunch. Together?” He repeats, turning his chair to face you, eyes now staring up at yours rather than his freshly printed paper that was warm to the touch.

“Oh yeah.. yeah! that would be nice” You say, a little surprised that he offered, let alone was willing to eat lunch with someone.

He wasn’t sure why either, but his mind has been nagging at him to interact with you. He’s been craving to see you more and he’s been doing relatively well with hiding it but he can’t comprehend why he’s feeling this way.

Feeling so helpless against these instincts that beg to see you, that want to talk to you, maybe even touch you if he ponders long enough. It’s strange, he’s never felt this way, so he’s curious enough to indulge in it. As long as it keeps his brain at peace.

After a few lunches, his needs grow more, and more, and more until all your time is spent on him. You don’t pick up on it until a coworker points out how close the two of you are now, it almost makes you forget how it used to be, weren’t you always like this with him?

“Can you come over today? I wanted to cook dinner with you again” He speaks with a muffled volume, mouth filled with too much food to speak clearly.

You nod, agreeing like always, this has become a usual thing, and you’re used to it. Even growing accustomed to sleeping over if you’re too tired to go home. Sometimes it almost seems like he purposefully makes bigger portions so you grow sleepy after your full and content.

“Good, I bought the ingredients for your favorite. Maybe we can pick up some ice cream on the way home as dessert” He smiles slightly, continuing to chew his food in silence after that.

Time passes rather quickly, at least for you, he’s a little confused on why you’re taking forever so he stops waiting at the elevator like he told you he would do, walking up to your cubicle he sees you chatting, talking with the same coworker who pushes you around.

“Awh cmon please? I’m trying to meet up with a girl tonight and if I do these papers then I’ll be late, and I can’t be late to a first date” He pleads, putting his hands together with the papers crinkling slightly between them.

“I don’t know.. I already have something planned and I can’t just cancel on them” You say hesitantly, debating whether if you should help him or not, again.

“I’m sure you can do these papers on your own, I’ve seen you do a stack in 20.” He approaches, glaring at the shared coworker, he’s always despised this guy.

“Ah- seriously, it’s an important date” He pleads again, ignoring him as if he hadn’t just spoke.

“And it’s a no, can you hear?”

“I wasn’t asking you”

“I’m not letting you throw work on another coworker just for you to have another failed date”

He scoffs, annoyed as he walks back to his cubicle, not willing to pick a fight over some papers, even though he would if it was anyone but him.

“Let’s go then? Are you done with everything?” Your friend says, mood switching with your other coworker gone. It seems like he could be intimidating one minute and be ecstatic about something the next.

You didn’t mind how he acted now, even if he was a little harsh to others and wouldn’t want you speaking to them as much as you do. It helps you out in most situations, like now and at the party.

“Yeah, let’s go..!”

You just can’t help but wonder if it’s something you should worry about.

#yxami’s yam #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere guy #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #needy yandere #yandere dom #yandere boy #yandere male #coworker yandere #yandere coworker

[t4tschmidt]

hi!! hope you’re having a good day:)

i was wondering if you can write a smut where mike is a nerd in college and the popular girl needs to bring her grade up so he tutors her. she would always flirt with him and make him get all nervous. she repays him by giving him a blowjob and you can add anything else to the story if you want!! thank youu

ooooo i havent written anything like this, thank you for a new idea :D ty for the kind words too i hope everyone reading this day is a good one too <3 (god this is way longer then i meant for it to be)

cws; sub!mike, slight dom!reader, virginity taking, blowjob, gender neutral reader, a little messy

“Have you ever had sex with a girl before?”

The question you ask Mike is completely genuine but he stops writing in his tracks, his face visibly flushing red.

The two of you are studying for midterms (actually, more like Mike guiding you through the subjects) together in his dorm, books and papers strewn everywhere at his table.

“I—what?” He really wasn’t expecting you to ask that and he looks almost nervous.

“Have you?” you ask it like it’s the most casual question in the world, flipping your pencil around in your hand.

“Uh….no,” he looks very embarrassed, it’s cute on him. “I haven’t gotten close to anyone like that before, and no one was particularly interested in the guy hiding behind his engineering book.”

You were quite surprised to learn this, in your opinion he was quite the attractive guy.

“Would you be up for an offer then?” His eyes widened, and he let his pencil slide out of his grip completely.

“What kind of offer….?” He said it, but the implication after the topic of conversation was understood between the two of you, but he clearly didn’t believe it.

“Well I’d really like to do something nice for you in return for tutoring me, we’ve already talked about this but I really wish I could pay you but everything’s going to food and tuition right now and I couldn’t ever ask my parents so I was wondering if you’d let me make you feel good instead?” You said.

His entire face was visibly red now with blush, and his gaze dropped and avoided yours as he processed what you were saying. He seemed in total disbelief, his hands tapping the table which you knew was a nervous habit of his.

“I-um, but I-I’ve never done that with anyone? I wouldn’t wanna, um, somehow do it wrong.” He was incredibly sincere and it was quite endearing.

You leaned back in your seat, trying to catch his nervous eyes.

“I’m cool with that, I could even teach you if that would make you feel less nervous? Think of it as…….a tutoring session. Only if you want too though.” His hands found themselves, wringing and thumbing his palm. He was clearly deep in thought and given permission you wanted to wipe that stress from his face. It would be an honour to teach him, after all the exams and quizzes he’d helped you pass.

“Alright…I think I’d, uh, like that. When?” You smiled at his confirmation of consent, excitement and arousal already beginning to build up inside you. You stood up, walking around the desk and sitting on one of his thighs.

“We’ve been studying for a while now, I think this would be a good opportunity to take a break and learn something new.” You put your hands on his chest, your voice dropping in a suggestive way that earned a shiver out of him.

“O-Okay,” he gulped, finally gathering the courage to look at you in front of him. “What’s the first step?”

You leaned in to kiss his neck and he gasped loudly. “First the ground rules. One, if you decide it’s too much we can always stop, alright? Two, tell me if you’re going to cum. Three, listen to your body, Mikey, tell me what feels good.” You purred into his ear, trying to take things slow so he could adjust to them. He quickly nodded, and you starting leaving light kisses down his chest.

As much as you wanted to grind down on his thigh you had an objective: make him cum. You moved off his lap and he watched you the entire time with a mix of nervousness and curiosity in his eyes. You slid to the floor in between his legs as he was seated at his desk.

Your first step was massaging his thighs, getting closer and closer to his dick. Your hand settled over the fly of his jeans, palming the denim and smirking when you felt the bulge it held.

You began unzipping it, speaking as you worked. “First step is to relax, this parts all about you baby boy.” He felt the urge to whimper and aggressively bit it back.

Just the tiny amounts of friction and sultry words you provided had began to work him up. You pulled down his boxers enough for his cock to be freed, hardening at every touch.

He was fairly big, your fingertips just barely met around it when you gave it a couple experimental jerks. He made a little noise at this, and you smiled.

You spit in your hand, spreading the wetness across his length to make it easier. It was clear he was unuse to his own boner, his mouth agape and his hips beginning to shift in the chair.

You started by giving the tip a tiny kiss, followed by short little licks to the head. You flattened your tongue and swirled it all around the head, running your tongue over his sensitive slit.

This gained an immediate reaction, another little noise escaping his mouth followed by his hands gripping his own thighs. You were barely touching him and he was already panting at the sweet sensation.

You took it a little further, pumping the base and farther into your mouth. You were licking the underside of his dick, dragging hot wet stripes further and further down each time. You were halfway down his length, finally taking it all into your mouth and pushing it in until your lips reached your loose fist.

His pants were evolving into full blown moans, his hand white-knuckles gripping his desk. He spread his legs further, hoping to give you more access. Every moan is music to your ears, coming out in little “hnngs…” and “mmmfng…..”

The tip almost reached the back of your throat and there was spit dripping down your chin, mixing with whatever slick he was leaking. You moved forward and back, your tongue sliding wetly and stimulating him. You repeated this, grinding into the floor for any ounce of your own friction.

His cock was a wet mess, and the sounds coming from your mouth became more and more vulgar. Slick-filled wet slaps of skin on skin as your fist pumped faster and faster and your tongue swirled around his girth.

He was getting closer and you could tell because he was absolutely loosing control of himself. He’d been reduced to drawn-out moans and whimpering at how fast you were going; his hips had also started bucking forward, pushing more and more of it into your mouth until you were almost completely swallowing him.

Your own desperation made it even more wet and messy, you drew back and a long string of precum dripped from his tip to your tongue thinly connected. Your gaze was driving him crazy, the combination of your eyes locked on his and the slurping wet kiss you licked up his shaft again.

When your mouth dove back on it you could tell he was getting incredibly close to finishing. His thrusts were becoming sloppy and so pathetic that it was hitting the walls of your cheek and the very back of your throat.

It was ultimately your groan that sent him over the edge, the vibrations sent through your mouth felt all over his cock and it felt so good, so wet, so overwhelming that he barely had time to whimper “fuck, I-I’m going too—!”

His cock throbbed and pulsed as you licked his slit once more, taking it out of your mouth absolutely cockdrunk. It barely took a single pump for him to explode, thick white ropes bursting from his tip and all over your chest.

His head was thrown back and he was panting hard, his cock head was flushed a pretty pink like his blush and it kept twitching, smaller streams erupting until it came to a slow stop.

Your face was a mess of his hot cum and your underwear absolutely soaked through. His eyes were closed and he was still gasping, sighing as he slowly loosened his grip on the desk as he rode out the end of his orgasm.

“Fuck, holy shit, thank you.” He mumbled, still coming down from the adrenaline of finishing. When he did look down he swore he could’ve came a second time, the way your face was lit up by a smile and absolutely drenched in his sticky white seed.

“Of course, if I wanted to teach you about sex I had to make sure you’d at least get to cum before you made someone else do it,” You stood up, standing close to him and running your hand through his pretty brown hair.

“Tomorrow after we finish calculus, I’ll show you how to eat someone out~”

#requests open #fnaf x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt ns/fw #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #x reader #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf nsft #fnaf smut #mike schmidt x you smut #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #gn nsft #nsft concept #fnaf ns/fw #fnaf x reader smut

[mo-mode]

Back on my Screenwriter soap box while watching PJO: They should have bought a bunch of oil diffusers.

(Edit: This post was made before someone pointed out to me that I missed a key line of dialogue, but my points and theories still stand for the same reasons backing up my original post so I’m not changing anything. The dialogue I missed lets us know that Hermes told Percy the lotus was being pumped into the air off-screen. It’s also implies (? I’m still on the fence about this one?) that Hermes told him what day it is, but I missed these during my first three watches because of how quick and vague it was. Which actually kind of supports my point on why visual indicators are so important. Without these, it’s easy to miss key information. And remember, it’s a kid’s show. ANYWAY my conclusions haven’t changed, and I still believe these edits would work better than the quick line of dialogue so just keep this in mind. Thanks.)

(I’m not being nit-picky. I swear. Just hear me out.) So the weirdest thing to me in episode six was how Percy just…learned everything so quickly without any visual indicators? Like they know time passed because it’s dark outside, but how did he know it was Thursday? They know they were affected by the lotus flowers, but how does he know it was pumped into the air? This irked me because even if he’s smart enough to figure some of this out himself (which he is) we as the audience should still be able to follow his thought process instead of learning after the fact.

What if there were oil diffusers?

So imagine the trio walks into the Lotus, figures out this is like the Odyssey, and decides not to eat anything. They waltz in super confident that they cracked the code, but they were wrong. How do we know? Because the moment they enter the crowd, we get an establishing shot of a lotus-branded oil diffuser letting out steam.

Immediately, we as the audience realize their mistake, making it just that more tantalizing to watch. As the episode continues, we realize they’re everywhere. There’s a diffuser in the plants, on the counter, between the game tables, always right out of the corner of our eyes. They just keep churning out lotus-scented oil into the air, which we can infer because we’re smart. (Remember that.)

Now when Percy realizes what’s going on, we know HOW they’re doing it and HOW Percy knows without being told!! Because they were there the whole time.

Onto Thursday.

Consider: A watch.

What if Hermes has the only watch in the casino until the trio walks in with their own?

Let’s give Annabeth one of those cheap, funky watches that gives the time, day, month, year, etc. Something you get from a kids toy catalogue. It’s waterproof, glows in the dark, has an alarm or whatever. I feel like Annabeth would have one of those. (And honestly, she might already. I forgot.) The most important feature for us, though, is the day. It clearly tells us the day of the week.

It’s pretty easy to establish that Annabeth has the watch. Just do it the same way they establish the date: Percabeth arguing over it in the truck. Annabeth shows him the watch. Establishing shot of the watch’s face. That’s it. No bells or whistles necessary. Then when they get to the casino, Annabeth checks it one more time (without an establishing shot, she just does it casually) and they walk in.

(It’s so easy. I promise.)

While Grover is walking around alone, he tries to check the time and realizes there’s no clocks. (Which ngl is super common in casinos already, but it’s creepy nonetheless.) Yada yada, he gets sucked in by Augustus and that’s how he gets got.

Meanwhile, Percy and Annabeth keep meaning to check the time, but every time they do, someone tries to hand them an appetizer or a drink, which makes them forget OR Annabeth’s hubris keeps her from checking. (Percy: Time check? Annabeth: Its only been five minutes. We’re fine. We need to focus.)

And that brings us to Hermes. After their chat, yada yada, Annabeth “leaves” and Hermes gets all cryptic, then he makes a BIG show of checking his watch, and THAT’S when Percy realizes something’s wrong because oh no they haven’t checked the time. So he finds Annabeth, they see it’s dark outside, they check her watch, and it’s Thursday.

“But we didn’t eat anything!” Annabeth says. Percy looks at the diffusers by the entrance. It dawns on him. “They’re pumping it into the air.”

That’s how you VISUALLY SHOW US THINGS instead of Percy just figuring everything out off-camera and telling us!!!!

Now, you may be thinking “Oh but do they have the budget for that??” Do you know how cheap these props are? Just bulk buy like six oil diffusers, slap a homemade sticker of a lotus flower on them, and keep moving them into every shot. And they’re quiet!! They wouldn’t interfere with the sound, the steam is visible enough to be caught on camera without messing with the lighting, they actually look really cool in some lighting, and they fit the atmosphere of a hotel/casino!! Then the watch is like $15, fits with Annabeth’s character, and totally matches her outfit.

It’s CHEAP! It’s EASY! It DOESN’T CUT INTO THE RUN TIME! It’s AESTHETICALLY PLEASING! ANNABETH GETS A SICK WATCH!! NO DOWNSIDES!!!!

The biggest problem with this show isn’t how accurate it is to the book or how much money they have or that they’re “Disney-fying” it. The problem is they are TELLING US things instead of SHOWING us. And not to beat a dead horse because everyone’s heard of “Show Don’t Tell” but like??? This is exactly why everyone is taught this over and over again in school?? Because people still do it anyway all the time???

There’s also something else I learned (or really just picked up) when I got my B.A. in Creative Writing: Good shows are predictable.

Whether it’s a case of the audience learning what’s going to happen before it happens or them watching the show again and realizing how obvious the answer was the whole time, audiences always want to feel smart. They want to interact with the material. If you don’t give them the opportunity to pick apart the mystery themselves by setting down clues, they’ll give up on interacting with the show and lose interest. That’s why you SHOW them things. There are several moments where this show is completely unpredictable, not because it’s complex but because it doesn’t let you predict it. That doesn’t make it bad—the comedy and character development is doing a great job of carrying the show’s weight so far. But it definitely doesn’t make the show good.

It’s like Rube Goldberg machines. Or dominoes! We don’t watch those crazy 1000+ domino videos so we can watch the last one fall. We watch it to see HOW they fall. Take one domino out, and it’s unsatisfactory. It doesn’t work anymore.

But some oil diffusers and a watch??? Little clues that make the realization that more visually appealing??? THAT’S SATISFYING

Anyway, these are just two things that could have been done, but weren’t. Most of the show is stellar. I think it just needs a little bit of editing here and there. I studied this for like years, and I needed to get this off my chest. That’s it.

Rick Riordan, if you ever see this, I am available for hire :) I would love to be a script doctor please please please please

#THIS IS SO IMPORTANT TO ME YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #I swear I can be so helpful Rick #hire me #i’m a screenwriter i promise i’m legit #btw this is NOT an opportunity to say you hate the show in the notes I will find you #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #percy jackson tv show #pjo spoilers #percy jackson the lightning thief #pjo series #screenwriting #grover underwood #annabeth chase #hermes

[wilwheaton]

the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He's the richest man on the planet. You can't go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he's part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he's a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They'll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn't enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That's a tragedy for him, but it's dangerous for us. He doesn't care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying "hurt people hurt people"? He's a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man's midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what's really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please. 

Don't hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn't stand up to anyone. He doesn't stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He's angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn't care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is ... a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

#fuck elon musk

[starrypen]

⋇⊶⊰ (FINALLY) GIVING JUNGWON HEAD ⊱⊷⋇

pairing: dom!jungwon x gn!reader

genre: smut

summary: jungwon was a great project partner. not only did you learn lots about the module, but also how to give head!

warnings: implied virgin reader, pet names, face fucking, giving head, dom jungwon, implied sub reader, swearing. 1.4k words.

a/n: self indulgent. i want jungwon so bad.

for what could be one last time, you took in the scenery of your classmate’s room. the walls were painted ivory, the desk was a metallic navy, his bedsheets a similar shade of blue. although you hated this module, it turned out to be your favourite, but maybe that’s just because you were finally able to get some one-on-one time with jungwon. you’d been partnered up together for this project, and you’d enjoyed every second of it. you’d actually become quite close, flirty even. he’d often ask for a message, tell you how good your hands felt on him, or ask if you wanted one in return. he’d sometimes seem bummed when you said you going on dates, or hanging around with guys, but you didn’t want to delude yourself, maybe he just wanted to get the project done sooner.

tonight, you’d finally finished the poster for the presentation. it felt like an end, and you didn’t really like that. just as you were contemplating asking him out on a date, jungwon popped a rather intrusive question.

“is giving head fun?” jungwon asked, folding the peel of his banana in on itself while finishing the last bite. he aimed for the trash can in his room and succeeded, as per usual.

this was his usual style of conversation, he definitely meant it in a playful way, but you felt obligated to answer it truthfully. “uh i mean,” you shifted awkwardly and gulped as you watched his throw, “i cannot confirm or deny.”

“i take that as a no then,” he picked up the scissors and stretched up to his desk with them, placing them down firmly as his eyes scanned the poster.

your eyes do the same, anything to avoid looking at him, “well i wouldn’t know, that’s why i can’t say.”

he turns to you, puzzled, “huh?” his brows furrowed more as he notices you burning up, “i thought you’d slept with loads of guys?”

“yeah, no, i haven’t, i just said that to be you know,” you cringed at your previous interactions with the boy whose room you were currently in, “cool…” you gulped again, biting the bullet as words escaped before you could stop them, “but i kinda want to know, i just haven’t found someone who would be worthy of such an honour yet.” you owned it, a smirk on your face, which jungwon could clearly tell was feigned confidence.

his hand came to rest on yours, ceasing it’s trembling which gave you away. “do you really wanna try?”

you nodded.

“what about with me?” he waited until you nodded again. “would that be okay?”

“are you sure?”

to your surprise, jungwon laughed, “y/n, i’ve been waiting for this day since the first day of college, i’m very much okay with this.”

you joined in, awkwardly, “me too, to be honest.” his hand disappeared from yours as you finally got more comfortable in your laughter, instead tussling with his jeans’ zipper, standing up as he did so. you joined him, standing clumsily, watching him.

“sit down, y/n,” his eyes darted to the bed as he took one leg from his jeans, the other following shortly.

you sat, his boxers in your eyeline. you couldn’t help but look, his bulge right in front of you. you held your breath as your teeth tore your lips and the inside of your cheeks apart.

“hey, y/n, don’t be nervous, okay? we can stop at any time, you got that?” you felt his hand on your head, stroking it gently, calming you slowly but surely. “look at me, baby,” he spoke softly, your eyes drifted up to his.

after a short while of eye contact, your eyes naturally fell once again to his boxers, “do you wanna touch it?” he asked.

you nodded, his hand still on your head but not guiding your response at all. your hand timidly reached out, cupping the general area a little gauchely.

“how about you rub your hand over it? up and down,” you tried to imitate his suggestion with your hand, and with a little help from his own, you managed to get a good feel of his hardening cock. “good, doesn’t it feel good to know that you did this?”

you giggled shyly, but almost a little smugly, under your breath, “it does.”

“then how about i let you see, how does that sound, hm?” by this point, you were no longer palming his cock, instead, your hand running over his own as he played with his own dick inside his boxers.

“good,” you agreed, not really sure of what to say.

he revealed his dick, pulling his boxers to just below it and then finally pulling them completely off as he watched you admire it.

you licked your lips as if you’d already been conditioned to do so. “it’s so,” your hand went to it once again, employing the same motion, again a little awkwardly, before wrapping your hand around it more comfortably, “thick.”

“is it?” he asks in pleasant surprise, “well it’s all yours, baby.”

you pump it a couple more times, getting used to the feeling, before asking, “can i try sucking it?”

“you’re so eager,” he chuckles, “of course you can,” the hand on the back of your head starts to guide you towards his semi hardened cock as you get closer to his body. you’re not sure if the heat is coming from him or your face alone at this point, but you’re almost basking in it as if its warm caribbean sun.

“open your mouth, i’ll just put the tip in.” you did as he said and he kept to his promise, the head of his cock resting on your tongue. “okay, now close your mouth,” your lips wrapped around it. you looked up to him for reassurance, he breathed heavily in response. you think that meant you were doing a good job. “you can move a bit, if you want,” he spoke through gritted teeth, but it only turned you on more. you moved your head lightly, taking as much as you thought you could before coming back up for air. “spit on it, y/n, get it all wet, you’ll be able to take more.”

“fuck, jungwon, it’s so big,” you repositioned it back in your mouth, drooling on it, leaving your hand on his shaft for support. encouraged by a groan from the boy, you carried on sucking. his free hand took your own from his cock and held it by his side, interlocking your fingers together.

“this feels so good, y/n,” getting carried away, he thrusts gently. you’re taken aback, he notices your pace slows almost to a stop. “oh, i’m so sorry, was that too much? i didn’t even think, ugh,”

you begin sucking again, you can’t even respond to his apology, you just want his cum. unable to hold back, he thrusted again, only this time, you leaned into it. his grip on your hair got tighter and his thrusts got harder, your lips became less pursed and your throat started to make gagging sounds. jungwon was fucking your face. just like you’d wanted.

you placed your free hand on his thigh, slowing him down as your throat felt more and more used. your lips tightened around him again and your head bobbed deeply, adding a little bit of a swirling motion. under your touch, you felt his leg begin to shake.

“fuck, y/n, im cumming,” he announced, letting go of your hand in favour of pulling his dick from your mouth and covering your upper lip and nose in cum. he seemed a little dissatisfied. his dick dragged the cum down and across your lips, parting them slightly as your tongue grazed his tip again. “you’re like, incredible at giving head, y/n,” he admitted, panting as he watched over you, a slight hunch to his posture.

“i never doubted it,” you chuckled, taking a tissue from his bedside table and wiping your face. “but i should probably clean this off before your flatmates realise we haven’t been studying all this time.”

he extended a hand to help you off his bed, laughing with you, “don’t worry, they’ve been wanting this to happen almost as much as i have.”

#jungwon #enhypen #enhypen smut #jungwon smut #enhypen imagines #jungwon imagines #yang jungwon

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking of a coffee shop AU where Steve and Robin work together. They play this little game where they guess what a new customer’s order will be. To their surprise, Steve is accurate almost 100% of the time. Especially after he gets the hang of it, it’s like he’s a coffee mind reader - at least, that’s what Robin calls him.

The best friends spend most of their time chatting and occasionally Robin will ask, “Blondie who just walked in?” Or “Obnoxious purple tie, third in line?”

And Steve will answer in a few seconds, “Iced coffee, two shots of expresso, and three pumps of caramel… clearly a large latte with french vanilla and an oat milk substitute.”

Most of the time, Robin will make the order before the customer gets to the register. She’s learned to always trust Steve’s gut.

On a particularly slow day, Robin and Steve lounge by the machines, having cleaned them three times already. Steve steals a cookie from the display and gives half to Robin as they chat.

The bell rings and Robin nudges Steve. “What about him?”

Steve swallows. The man has long curly brown hair which rests over a leather jacket and some band t-shirt that Steve doesn’t recognize. His jeans are black and purposefully ripped at the knees, and his combat boots are well worn. The answer is obvious to anyone. “Easy, a large black coffee.”

For once, Robin hesitates to make the coffee, choosing to watch the interaction instead.

“Hi, welcome in, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with practiced ease.

Big brown eyes that were previously scanning the menu above now land on Steve, and Steve can’t help but pinch his leg behind the counter so he can get a grip.

The customer’s mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly indecisive, which Steve finds to be a bit ridiculous because why would he want anything that isn’t just plain dark coffee? He doesn’t get lost in these thoughts for too long because the customer’s lips are a bit distracting…

“I’ll have a medium caramel frappe with whipped cream and maybe a bit of cinnamon on top?” The customer requests.

Steve freezes.

“Is that… okay? I don’t mind not getting the cinnamon if that’s a problem…” he trails off looking adorably flustered.

Steve clears his throat and reasons out loud, “This isn’t for you, right”

The stranger’s brow furrows. “Is there something wrong with my order?”

Oh shit. Yeah, that was rude. “No, no! Not at all! I just thought… well… with your whole look and vibe you would get something… not so sweet.” Fuck. He’s digging a bigger hole for himself.

“My vibe?” The man questions and luckily the crease in his brow is no longer there, and there’s maybe even a smile that tugs at his lips.

“A good vibe! Well, actually I thought you looked kind of scary. Not scary! Just… intimidating, man. With the leather and all black but it’s cool, dude.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he nods - at what, he doesn’t know, but he’s nodding. There’s a small kick to his shin that he knows is from Robin who is fixing the coffee next to him, but he’s going to refuse to look at her.

The sound of a lid snapping on the top of a drink container snaps Steve out of outright staring at the man now. Christ. Robin pushes beside him and slides the drink across the counter. “On the house to repay you for my coworker’s manners,” Robin says with a big grin.

“Oh, I didn’t mind really,” the man says, fidgeting with the large silver rings on his hand. Steve can’t tell if he’s imagining the blush on his cheeks or not.

“In that case, please come back and pray that Steve here can get himself together before then,” Robin says nudging Steve hard. Steve winces at the impact.

“Will do,” the man says, taking his drink and straw and walking out the building.

Steve buries his head in his hands.

“What was that?” Robin asks in a hushed tone although there’s no one around.

“I don’t know! I got his order completely wrong, and it threw me off!” Steve uncovers his face and begins stress cleaning the machine.

Robin laughs. “I haven’t seen you put your foot in your mouth so hard since Scoops.”

“Don’t remind me,” Steve begs.

“Well, at least you’ll never have to see him again because it seems like we’ve lost that customer forever,” Robin says with another laugh as Steve groans recalling the interaction.

It turns out that Robin is wrong though because he shows up again. The next day, in fact. Then the next… and the next… and the next… He starts coming more often than some of their regulars, and eventually he becomes one of them.

And every time, he orders something different. He’s gotten a hot latte, an iced latte, a cappuccino, chai tea, and even a hot chocolate. But everything he orders is overwhelmingly sweet - most times requesting an extra sweetener, and Steve has even seen him use extra sugar packets the few times he’s sat down inside.

A few days into Steve’s new favorite game of trying to guess the man’s new order, he finally gives him his name: Eddie.

Regrettably, Steve had gotten his name because it was a busy day and he had needed to. But still, he had his name.

On a particularly slow day with only Steve working, Eddie ends up being the only one in the coffee shop. Steve writes on a sticky note what his order will be because Robin isn’t there as a witness, and Steve needs some evidence in case he guessed correctly.

“Hey, Eddie, what can I get for you?” Steve asks with a smile.

“How about a medium peppermint mocha?”

Steve is going to tear up that sticky note and throw it away. He moves to make the mocha quickly, adding in extra pumps of mocha because he’s sure Eddie will want it sweeter.

When Eddie goes to pay and accept his coffee, he hesitates. He gives Steve a curious look and asks, “Why do you cringe every time I order something? Is it something I say? Or is it the order itself?” It comes out soft and curious rather than harsh and demanding which Steve is thankful for.

Steve says, “Well, it’s a long story but… here, I’ll show you.” He reached over and grabs the sticky note reading hot cappuccino, four pumps of caramel, and five packets of sugar and places it in front of Eddie who reads it over, throughly confused. “I guess people’s orders, and most of the time I’m right or I’m close enough that I’m basically right. But with you, I’ve guessed it wrong every single time. I just can’t figure you out.”

A small smile graces Eddie’s face. “Does that mean I’m special then?”

Steve’s heart thuds. “I guess it does,” he replies with grin.

“I’m glad,” Eddie says then winks at him. “I’ll be back tomorrow so you can guess wrong again,” he comments while turning to leave.

Steve chuckles, slightly flustered. “Looking forward to it, Eddie.”

“I bet you are,” Eddie flirts as he makes his way out the door.

Steve flushes bright red. Yeah, he definitely guessed Eddie all wrong, and he prays to continue to do just that so he’ll keep coming back. He knows one thing for sure though - Eddie’s drinks are about as sweet as him.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie coffee shop au #platonic stobin #coffee shop au

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Study Session

michael gavey x reader

A/N: a fufilled request :)

TW: smut!, dry humping, titty sucking, size kink

word count: 1,283 words

“C’mon you can’t be dumb and weak, that’s just pathetic” Michael rolls his eyes as he holds the flashcards in front of you.

“I already said it’s 1536 and I’m not weak or dumb.” You glare at him.

“You have to know the full date. You know that.”

“That’s stupid.”

“May 19th.”

“I knew that!” You protest and snatch the cards out of his hands. You begin to look at the answers on the cards. “And I knew that was June 16th and that was March 3rd.” He tries to grab the cards back.

“You won’t learn anything if you do that.” He snatches them out of your hands with ease. “And like I said before, not very strong.”

You shove him. He doesn’t go very far. “I’m not weak.”

“Yes you are. You’re tiny compared to me.” He teases and you push him again. “Stop that you little brat.”

You snatch his glasses and stand up, taking a few stops back. You stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh very mature.” He stands, holding his hand out. “Give them back.”

“No.” You say like a petulant child.

He sighs before reaching out to try and grab them from you but you’re a little too quick this time. You dart to the other side of the room and you actually have him chasing you now.

“This is silly.” He says as he stops. You’re cornered now.

“Boo hoo Michael hates fun.” You say with a fake pout.

He holds his hands out for his glasses once more and you try to dart away. He grabs you firmly around your waist and pushes you back on his bed, realizing that he’s going to have to wrestle them out of your hands. You giggle as you fall down, playfully fighting back but he gets on top of you, gripping your wrists firmly with one hand and pinning them above your head. He puts his glasses back on with his other hand, not quite yet realizing the position he’s put you in.

“Michael?” You murmur out and he looks down at you. You can feel how hard he’s gotten against you due to all the movement and he can see the slightest glimpse of your panties from how your skirt has ridden up.

He brings himself back down to reality. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to. I-I can’t control it.” You know he is referring to the very obvious tent in his trousers. He’s clearly about to get up but you see your chance and  you grind yourself against him. He lets out a strangled groan.

“Maybe now’s a good time to tell you that i’ve liked you for a while.” You say softly as you look into his eyes. He can practically feel the lust radiating off of you. “Do you-”

You’re cut off before you can finish the sentence as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is hungry and needy and you feel all his emotion through it.

“I’ve liked you for a while too.” He murmurs before kissing you again. You can feel him rubbing up against you subconsciously. “Um… you should also know that I haven’t done this before.”

“Done what before?” You know what he’s referring to but you want to make him say it.

“Sex.” He says nervously.

“Who said we were going to have sex?”

“Nobody! I mean - that’s not all I want or something. W-We don’t have to!” He stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s fucked it all up now. “I really like you!”

You giggle. “I’m just teasing Mikey. We can have sex.”

“You’re such a little shit.”

“Well if you don’t want to then I can just leave.” You begin to sit up but he puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back down.

“No, I want to. I definitely want to.” There’s a very intense look in his eyes and you just kind of nod in response.

He looks down so he can unzip his trousers and pull his length out. By the time he looks back up, you’ve taken your top off. His jaw drops at the sight of your lacy bra and he realizes it matches the tiny glimpse that he got of your panties. He immediately lifts up your skirt to check if he remembered correctly.

“Michael!” You scold him for looking under your skirt without asking.

“You wore a matching set to study with me?” There’s a stupid, cocky grin on his face as he asks the question.

“Shut up.” You murmur in response with flushed cheeks from your embarrassment.

“You really do have a big fat crush on me.” He teases. “Don’t girls usually wear shorts under skirts or were you just really wanting to flash me your panties?”

“I swear to God, I will leave right now.”

“No, don’t go. I’m sorry.” He teases gently with that dumb grin still on his face before he leans down to give you another peck on the lips.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You grumble before you reach for the clasp of your bra. 

A bra that clasps in the front; he feels like he’s going to go fucking feral.

“I’m a very lucky man.” He breathes out as you reveal your tits to him. “Oh fuck.” He groans like a desperate preteen boy before palming them with both hands. If he wasn’t rock hard before, then he sure is now.

“Perv.”

“Whatever.” He very clearly doesn’t care as he begins to suck on your right breast. You run your fingers through his hair, whimpering as he licks over your nipple.

“Are you going to suck my tits all day or do I get to pop your cherry?” You ask and he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Of course you don’t. Virgin.” He pinches your nipple. “Ow!” You glare at him.

“Can I still fuck you?” 

The audacity.

“You’re paying for plan B.”

He grins at your answer and pushes your skirt around your waist. He decides to keep your panties on and just push them to the side. You feel him rubbing his tip against your opening. He looks at you with pleading eyes. “Can I put it in?” You nod right away before you feel yourself stretch around him. He’s just so goddamn big.

“Oh fuck.” You whine as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He goes slow and concentrates so he doesn’t become a one pump chump. He watches as your hand goes down to rub your clit. He’ll have to learn to do that for you next time.

“God, you feel so good.”He moans as he feels your creamy, tight pussy around him. It makes him fuck you a little faster now.

“You’re so big, Michael. Feel you in my tummy.” You whimper out as you squeeze a bit around him.

“I-I’m cumming. I’m cumming.” He can’t stop himself when you say such things to him and he doesn’t even ask before he cums inside you. You squeeze around him in tandem when you feel him fill you, managing to reach your peak as well. “Sorry…” He breathes out. He may not have finished right away but he sure as hell didn’t last long.

“It’s okay. You did good.” You praise him as he pulls out of you. Michael puts your panties back in place right away because he likes the idea of you keeping his cum inside you. “Perv.” You mutter.

“Your perv.” He grins and lays his head down on your chest. “Does this mean I get to be your boyfriend now?”

You pretend to think for a moment.

“Of course it does, idiot.”

taglist (comment to be addex): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey smut #michael gavey #saltburn #saltburn smut #ewanverse

[gurugirl]

The Warning | bfd!harry

best friend's dad!harry x reader | forbidden relationship

Summary: You and Harry are trying to heal after coming clean to everyone and Mrs. Styles comes to you with a warning.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: 18+ only, smut, angst, mentions of cheating and divorce, age gap, an uncomfortable confrontation

Best Friend's Dad!Harry Masterlist

You missed the occasional texts from Fae. Goofy memes or links to TikTok videos she knew you’d like. Recipes for you two to try. Screenshots from conversations with guys on Tinder.

There was nothing but silence from her for weeks at that point. And being blocked by her on every social media site you two were both on was glaring. It hurt. But what could you do? You’d categorically fucked up. There was no coming back from what you’d done to her family.

Most of your mutual friends were on Fae’s side and had also blocked you. Which you deserved and expected to be honest.

Harry slowly moved his things in. It took a couple of weeks. Every time he went home he tried to go at a time he thought his wife, well, he was calling her his ex now, wasn’t going to be there.

But, that afternoon, when he came home after you’d just had the worst shift you’d ever had in your life he was clearly upset. On edge.

And even though you’d had a terrible day you wanted to make sure he was okay, “Hey, are you all right?” You hugged one of his arms to your body after he sat a box full of his things down.

He smiled at you and brushed his fingers up the back of your neck, “She was there. It was awful. She’s just so full of rage toward me. And I get it, but it took a lot out of me. Better now, though,” he dropped his face to yours to kiss your mouth.

His kisses and his touches always made you feel better too. It was like everything outside of your little apartment was crashing down around you both, but as long as you stayed inside together you’d be okay.

He told you how his day at work was and then you both sat down on the couch and cuddled together, “How was your day at work, baby? I haven’t asked how your day was yet.”

You placed your chin on the top part of his arm as you looked up at him, “Horrible. Caressa is really mean. I think she’s trying to make me quit.”

Harry’s brows pulled together as he wrapped his arms around you, “Really? What has she been doing?”

“Well, last night she put me at the back. I had too many tables and no one to help because the bussers and floaters don’t go into the back when the restaurant is busy. They usually have two people waiting at the back to cover things but I was by myself so it was really stressful and the people I served were getting impatient with me so my tips were awful. And today I only had 2 tables my entire shift so I barely made any tips at all. I asked her if she could give me at least one more when a group came in but she just stared at me and laughed like I was crazy for asking,” You frowned. “Oh, and she updated the schedule without telling me. She’s got me off for five days in a row where I was supposed to be working all those days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this last night?” He rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“I just didn’t feel like rehashing it last night. Didn’t want to think about work at all.”

Harry pulled you into his body until you were sitting in his lap with your legs on one side. You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes. Everything was better when you were with Harry.

“Quit your job. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. And if she’s trying to sabotage you then it’s not going to be worth it to fight for it when you’re not making tips anyway.”

You sighed. It already looked like that’s where it was heading. Caressa had been cold to you since she learned it was in fact Harry that she’d seen that day. Of course, she sided with her friend and started treating you like the tramp you were.

You and Harry made dinner together and then cleaned up the kitchen after eating, “Have you heard anything from Fae?” You asked.

Harry shook his head, “Not yet.”

You frowned, “I hope she comes around.”

“I think she will. Eventually.”

You hoped he was right.

When you’d both finally climbed into bed together you snuggled into Harry like you always did. And even with the stress of everything going on outside you two always found a way to unwind together and being intimate (which usually included sex) seemed to help you both calm down and sleep well through the night.

Harry’s hand dragged up and down your back, as you nosed at his shoulder with your thigh hitched over his hip, “I love you, baby. Can I make you feel better?”

You smiled in the dark, “I think we both need to feel better.”

Harry’s chuckle vibrated from his chest as he dropped his hand to your bottom and pushed at the fabric of your panties until they were down around your thighs.

He kissed you gently and ran his hand over your breasts and then downward to your labia.

You pushed at Harry’s underwear and slid your hand under the band and smoothed your palm over his cock.

With mouths connected you both gently got one another worked up. Harry’s fingers soon became messy with your slick arousal, and Harry’s cock hardened with the stimulation from your hand rubbing over his shaft.

“You want to be fucked, little girl,” Harry teased as he spoke against your lips.

“Yes, I do, Mr. Styles. Please.”

Harry groaned. He enjoyed it when you called him Mr. Styles or Sir. Lately, it had just been Harry as things seemed so serious with everything going on.

“Mmm… love that,” he smiled into the kiss as he pushed you down to your back and quickly rid himself of his underwear as you kicked yours the rest of the way down your legs.

He ran his tip through your pussy lips and inhaled deeply as he pushed into you. You felt yourself stretch around him and moaned in relief.

“It’s so good with you, sir. I need you,” you cooed.

Harry’s languid strokes long and deep always had you weak. You felt his fingers wrap around the back of your neck as he brought his mouth against yours with a whimper.

It might have been the quietest sex you’d ever had together. Harry kept his unhurried pace, deep and searing while he kissed you. Your body was on fire. You’d come soon.

But then his next words against your lips changed the mood and had your head spinning and your heart pounding, “Wanna be my wife? Have my babies, Y/n? Want to show everyone you’re mine?”

His harsh rut into you had you inhaling a sharp breath as your eyes popped open and you arched your back into him., “Yes, Harry…”

“Yeah? Wanna be my Mrs. Styles? Have your pussy fucked and filled every day?”

“God… fuck yes, Harry…” you groaned loudly and somehow you felt yourself grow wetter at his words.

“M’gonna give you a big ring and keep you properly fucked, baby. Okay? Show everyone this is real.”

His words were thick and deep and with his lips against yours, you could almost taste them. It made your mouth water. That you’d be his wife and get his cock every night. Prove everyone wrong. Give him a few babies. It was just a fantasy at that point but it sounded exactly like what you wanted.

“Oh my god…” you gasped. Harry was fucking into you harder and your bed began to rock and your quiet sex turned wet and loud. He still had his hand at the back of your neck, almost cradling your head as he gently squeezed and kissed you, his cock spreading you apart as he thrust deeply hips pasted to yours. “This is real. You and me,” you moaned.

You felt Harry begin to quiver over your body as he gasped, “Want all of you, baby. Want every inch of you to be mine.”

You nodded as the tip of your orgasm started to wind its way through your system, “Every inch of me is yours. From the first time you fucked me, Harry.”

He lifted himself slightly and pulled himself out to his tip before driving back into you, repeatedly fucking himself into you in punishing strokes.

You grunted at each plunge and clung to his love handles as you unraveled loudly.

“There you go,” he groaned, “Sweetest girl. Gonna give this to you every day, baby,” he began to thrust erratically, his hips swaying and grinding into you.

Your ears rang as your orgasm wiped you out. You heard Harry loudly moan in time with his thrusts just as began to come inside of you. You felt the sharp punches of his cock against your cervix as he unloaded himself within your pulsing walls. Just like you loved. The final moment of your orgasm with his long dick reaching into your cervix making you ache and swell as he throbbed and pumped into you.

You’d happily be his wife and give him babies and rub it in everyone’s face with how wrong they all were about you and Harry. This man was the love of your life.

.           .           .

“I can’t believe you’re hooking up with Fae’s dad,” Paloma whispered to you as you sat at the little table in your favorite café. A café you and Fae often met up at.

“Well, we’re not just hooking up. But yeah. I feel really bad about everything but...” you trailed off as you shrugged and took a bite of your pastry.

She nodded at you excitedly. Paloma was a mutual friend of yours and Fae’s. She was always closer to you, though. But when she found out about your affair (thanks to Fae) she called you to get the tea directly from the source.

“I always thought her dad was so hot. It’s crazy that this is real. That he left his wife for you? You know that’s not typical, right? Usually, affairs don’t wind up with the man leaving his wife for his side piece.”

 You cringed. You hated that was the perception. But you let it slide. You figured she wouldn’t exactly understand everything but it felt good to talk to someone about it who wasn’t your mother.

“I know. That’s why when we started everything it was just going to be like… not serious you know. We’d end things before it got to be too much. Before anyone found out or got hurt. But we both fell in love. I don’t know how we could have stopped it.”

“Fae despises you and her dad. When she called me I was confused because she never reaches out to me but then I realized she wanted to make sure as many people knew as possible,” Paloma laughed, “I mean… I was shocked but I’m still your friend. I can’t judge you for what you’ve done.”

“So you don’t think I’m a bad person?”

She chuckled, “Well, I don’t agree with what you did but I could never think you’re a bad person. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

You drank your hot tea and tried to enjoy yourself with your friend but the longer you and Paloma chatted, the more you missed Fae. No one could replace Fae. She was your other half in so many ways.

“Can I ask you a really personal question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

You shrugged, “Okay. Sure.” You had an idea of what she was going to ask based on the fact that you’d gotten onto the topic of birth control.

“Is he good? Now that I’m thinking about him like that I can imagine he is.”

You breathed out laughed through your nose and smiled as you looked down into your tea, “He’s good. Yes.” You weren’t sure how deep into it you wanted to get but you’d entertain her for a bit.

“And I bet he’s got a big… dick.” She whispered the word dick quietly.

That’s where you drew the line. You sipped your warm tea and turned your gaze to the corner of the room where someone was just taking their seat.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she spoke, drawing your attention back to her.

“It’s okay. I’m not sure I want to talk about that anymore, though. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

It turned out that Paloma didn’t have much to say about herself. She gave you the tiniest bit of information, where she was working, that she’d dated someone a couple of months back and that it didn’t work out, and how she was planning a vacation to Cancun. But that’s it.

It felt strange to divulge such personal things to someone who gave you so little in return. And you should have known that’s what was going to happen. She wanted the dirty details about you and Harry. She wasn’t there to be a friend. Not really. She wasn’t rude but you saw that her motivation was to sate her curiosity.

Maybe you were better off just confiding in your mother. Though, she never asked you things about how sex was with Harry. She always only wanted you to be happy and doing your best.

And it would have been fun to discuss in detail how good you were getting it with Harry. And if Fae weren’t his daughter you’d do that with her. Tell her all about how insane his body is, how strong he is, how big his cock is, and how he eats you out almost every day. You’d totally brag about him with her if things were different. But instead, you were stuck with Paloma who you didn’t want to give too many details to. And besides, you and Harry were still healing. To talk about how he was in bed didn’t seem right. Especially when you didn’t know who she was going to tell.

You stopped at the grocery store on your way home to get some things you needed and you picked up one of those cheap grocery store flower bouquets. Harry had stopped having them sent when shit hit the fan and he moved in. You didn’t know if it was because they were so expensive or just because he hadn’t thought about it what with everything going on, but you figured a small bouquet might feel nice to have in the apartment.

But when you pulled into your building’s parking lot you saw, what looked like Mrs. Styles’ car parked at the front. Of course, perhaps it was someone else’s, you were a bit paranoid lately. You always had your eyes roaming around just in case you accidentally ran into her or Fae.

With one arm occupied by your grocery bag and your other hand holding the small bouquet, you slowly walked up the steps toward your door and thought, maybe it wasn’t Mrs. Styles. Perhaps it was actually just someone with a car like hers. Plus how silly for her to confront you. What good would that do anyone?

“Y/n. I’ve been waiting for you.”

You heard her voice before you saw her and then felt her pull your bag from your arm, “Let me help you. Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

You felt your vision blur and shade in with red as your heart pummeled in your chest, “Oh. Thank you, Mrs. Styles.” It was difficult to hide the shock you felt. You were sure she saw it.

You put your key into your door to unlock it and did some quick math in your mind for when Harry would be coming home. You didn’t want to be with Mrs. Styles alone. In your apartment.

“Cute. Kind of small,” she commented as she walked into your home behind you. She’d never visited before. “I’ll set this in the kitchen here, then?” She pointed to what was very obviously your kitchen.

“Yes. Sure. Thank you.”

She sat the bag on the countertop and you laid the bouquet on your little round kitchen table. You didn’t know what she wanted. What her intentions were. You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

She leaned her hip to the counter and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at you, taking in your outfit. You felt like you should have dressed nicer. Maybe you would have put more thought into your outfit if you knew you’d be seeing Mrs. Styles. You were wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a hoodie.

You kept thinking of things to say to fill in the very uncomfortable silence. One was that Harry would be home soon, but that felt wrong to say to the woman who was still married to him. Another was to ask her how she’d been doing. Also, not a good question to ask.

“Uh, would you like some water?” You walked toward the cupboard to pull out a couple of glasses. Even if she didn’t want one you needed it.

“No, thank you.”

You nodded to yourself as you poured a glass with water and took a gulp to soothe your dry throat.

“Would you like to sit?” You carried your glass to the kitchen table and gestured at it as you looked back toward her.

Her eyes pierced through you coolly, “No, thank you.”

You leaned your bottom into the table and looked down at your linoleum floor. You hated this. You had no idea how to do this with her. Whatever this was.

“Did you,” you looked up at her eyes, “Want to talk? Or���?”

“I don’t know that you and I have much to discuss that won’t end with hurt feelings. I just came here to see you again and say my peace. It was hard for me to remember what you looked like in my mind. I always imagine you as a high school girl even though I know you’re an adult and I’ve seen you as an adult. Kind of like how I see Fae still. My little girl,” she smiled. “And so with you, you were still a high school girl in my mind’s eye. Quiet. Polite. Fae’s closest and dearest friend. A warm and bright girl that I loved like my own daughter,” her words were razor blades.

“But I couldn’t imagine what you looked like anymore now that you’ve done something so unlike the girl I used to know. I needed to see you for what you are now. The person who’s sleeping with my husband. Who threw away a relationship with my daughter, who is the most beautiful and loving young woman anyone could ever know. And now I see it. I never saw it before but it was always there wasn’t it?”

You shook your head, “I never wanted to hurt–“

“No one ever does, Y/n. No one with any amount of good in their heart ever wants to hurt anyone much less themselves. But you’ve done it haven’t you? You’ve hurt Fae. You’ve hurt me. You’ve hurt Harry. And worst of all is that you’ve hurt yourself.”

She wasn’t wrong about anything she said. You had caused a lot of pain. You hurt people that meant a lot to you. Mrs. Styles, at one time, had meant a lot to you. But now it felt like she was a stranger in your apartment. Someone you didn’t want there.

“I get it, now, though. Looking at you. I was so confused at first. I thought why would Harry even look at you in that way? So I just came here to see if I could make sense of that and you as you are now. And… yeah I see it. You’re lovely. Definitely his type. And you’re sweet too. God that makes it so hard to hate you. I really wanted to hate you too but instead, I just hate Harry now. Because this is really his fault in the end. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she laughed incredulously, “I don’t like you one bit anymore. But I can’t hate you.”

You couldn’t keep eye contact with her. It felt like you were being incinerated.

“Harry’s had a lot of women after him in the past. Even after we were married women would flirt and try to get close to me just so they could get closer to him. It was funny because I noticed all of that. I was aware of what they were doing. Even had to cut a good friend out after she drunkenly admitted she wanted to sleep with him. He’s such an attractive man. Believe me, I know. I always knew other women found him sexy. But with you? Never had a clue. Wouldn’t have ever imagined it.”

You felt numb. You had no idea how to respond or even if you should.

“Anyway,” she pushed herself away from the counter and clapped her hands together with a faux smile, “That’s all I wanted to say. I hope you’re prepared for him to break your heart. Because this won’t last, Y/n. I don’t want him anymore but I’m just giving you a warning. If he can throw away a 24-year marriage for a 24-year-old girl whom he has nothing in common with, then just expect him to do something that catches you off guard.”

She walked past you to your front door and you listened as she opened and closed it behind her. You couldn’t move from your spot. You tried to breathe to calm yourself and not overthink the words she said.

You knew that she was angry and some of what she said was an attempt to get under your skin. To make you feel bad. Which you already did feel bad, of course. But now it felt suffocating. Felt like there were cracks starting to gape and widen between you and Harry but you needed to not allow that, as hard as it was. Hard not to take heed of her advice and note how other women wanted him and how he strayed from his wife whom he was married to for 24 years.

When Harry finally came home you didn’t know how long you’d been standing there at your kitchen table. You hadn’t moved a muscle. Your groceries hadn’t been put away. The flowers were still lying on your table. You were caught in your mind and battling not to allow your doubts about Harry to overcome you. Because you knew he loved you, you reminded yourself.

“Baby,” He wrapped his arms around your front as he stood behind you and kissed your temple, “Got groceries and flowers?”

You nodded shallowly.

He kissed you again and then you felt his face next to yours, could see from your peripheral that he was looking at you. He pulled his arms away and stepped to face you, pulling your hands into his, “Honey, what’s wrong?”

You slowly brought your gaze to his and immediately you felt better. His eyes. His concern. His warmth. And you could see the way he loved you. He loved you. You stepped toward him and put your arms around his middle and smushed your ear into his chest as you finally let your tears pour.

Harry drew his arms tight around you, “Baby, what happened? Tell me what’s wrong?”

You choked out a sob and squeezed him even more.

Harry sat down in a chair, and kept you with him, pulling you into his lap as he cupped your face and tried to look at you, “Sweetheart, you’re worrying me. Did something happen?”

You nodded and pushed your face back into his chest. You wished you could stop your tears and just tell him but you could barely sputter a word out.

He rubbed your back and gently rocked you as you cried in his arms and wetted his nice button-shirt with your tears.

When you felt better and felt like you could speak, your first words came out sounding so tiny and pathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, shh, shhh…” he softly hushed you, “Don’t be sorry, baby. Can you tell me what happened?”

You sniffed and looked up at him, “She… your wife. She came here.”

Harry’s face dropped, “What happened? What did she say?”

“She just wanted to see me and tell me what she thought about everything. I couldn’t even speak I was so nervous. She wasn’t here long.”

He nodded and used his thumbs to wipe your tears, “I will have a talk with her. She should not have come here. She has no business to do such a thing.”

You leaned into his touch as he wiped your tears.

“What did she say to make you so upset? Talk to me.”

“Just that you’ll hurt me eventually and you and I have nothing in common. She wasn’t mean, though. Everything she said was true about me. How I hurt everyone. And she said that other women want you too and…” you swallowed. You could hardly put your thoughts together coherently.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/n. And you know it’s not true that we have nothing in common. You and I get along perfectly. She’s just upset. You know that right?”

You nodded.

“And I don’t care how many women find me attractive, or even how many men find you attractive. None of that matters. You know that.”

“I know. She was just upset. It just scared me that I had to confront her alone. And I hate how she looks at me now. I’m the woman who took her husband.”

When your tears had finally dried, Harry helped you put the groceries away and put the flowers in a pretty vase to display.

“I need to have flowers delivered again. These are pretty but I like the ones Florero delivers.”

You wrapped your arms around Harry’s middle and looked up at him, “You’re so sweet but you don’t have to. I know those were expensive. I just thought any flowers would look nice so I picked them up on a whim.”

“You deserve flowers from Florero, baby,” he kissed your forehead. “I just forgot about it since everything that happened and moving here with you. But you still deserve nice things.”

You really didn’t feel like you needed nice things. Harry had never done all that much in the way of spending money on you. It was flowers, some jewelry, food, a toy. Things like that. But you were happy to just have him. You were happy that he was yours. And as awful as it was to feel the way you did, you were glad he chose you because you were always going to choose him.

Harry smushed you against his chest, “You know how much I love you, Y/n. I would choose you over and over again. No matter how hard it gets. Never let anyone’s words convince you otherwise.”

And there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t believe him.

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @zayndrivesmeinvain @i83andrew @shamelessfangirl-3 @onceagainace @stoneyggirl2 @fairytale07 @princessaxoo @littlenatilda @stylesfever @whoreonmondays @harryspirate @lovrave @missstyles4 @cherryluvhobi @ladscarlett @hisparentsgallerryy @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @golden-hoax @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstufff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10 @carmenxharry @tswiftsangel @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #bfd!harry #best friend's dad!harry #harry styles #firstpost #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x yn #harry styles x y/n #dad!harry #dadrry #dilf!harry #best friend's dad #harry styles writing #harry edward styles #harry #harry smut #harry styles x you

[tragedybunny]

Astarion head cannon! If your tav has any artistic ability (or none and is learning) imagine if he found you drawing his face a bunch to try get a good image of him to share. Pre act 2 where he believes you actually love him and he loves you. Just seeing this person doing something purely for him confusing and scaring hin but feeling too nice to want to run from.

So I had to turn this into a little story, it was too good.

What The Heart Sees - Astarion x F!Reader

You've been acting suspicious and Astarion is going to get to the bottom of it.

You'd been acting ever so slightly strange around him. He hasn't put the pieces together yet, but Astarion knows something is going on with you. The thought fills him with a little dread, he's worked so hard to get you on his side, to have someone to keep the others from turning on him. Now it might all be slipping through his fingers. 

Whatever was happening, he needed to bring it to a halt and get you back to your regular sweet devotion to him. The first step was interrogating your companions. Lae'zel and Shadowheart of course saw nothing wrong with your behavior. "Maybe she just needs a rest from your fangs at her neck," Shadowheart snipped and Astarion considered giving her neck a try one night before stomping away. 

Gale and Karlach at least confirmed his suspicions. As usual Gale was too worried about exploding to be much help, but Karlach, dear Karlach tried to be helpful. "We're all going through a lot. Maybe she's just tired Fangs." So, there was something going on with you, but no one seemed to have any clue. Maybe the Mind Flayer transformation was actually happening just very slowly, he shuddered at the thought. 

This situation clearly called for some less wholesome tactics. Stealth and spying on you, for now, maybe violating your trust and rummaging through your stuff as well. That night he crept to your tent after everyone had retired, there was still the faint glow of a light spell illuminating it. His intent had been to stop and listen, see if could find an angle to glance in that wouldn’t expose himself. Quietly, he made it near the entrance, perfect, you were unawares. There was a book cradled in your lap. Perhaps you’d found some arcane knowledge you were unwilling to share. He hadn’t thought you were power hungry, but maybe he’d misjudged. Reaching over, you picked up a piece of charcoal. Interesting, he leaned forward. “Woof.” Scratch was on top of him, wagging his tail, and he was laying the dirt outside your tent. 

You jump up, clearly startled, and he wanted to gut the stupid beast. But he saw where you tucked that precious book as you leapt up. “Astarion!” You were standing at the opening of the tent, looking down at him with concern. 

“Hello my Sweet,” he tries his best to still somehow be charming while pushing Scratch off him. “I uh, saw you were up and wanted to check on you but Scratch is apparently in a playful mood.” 

“Oh Scratch! You haven’t had enough attention huh?’ You reach out to pet the mongrel and talk softly to him as Asatrion pushes himself out of the dirt. “I was just reading, sorry to disturb you.” 

“No worries Darling,” he gives you a perfunctory peck on the cheek before heading back to his tent. It was all working out anyway. 

The next night comes and he’s ready, Scratch has given him quite a bit of inspiration. Discreetly Astarion leads the heap of fur to the edge of the camp, the ball he had dragged in from somewhere tucked in a pocket. “Come here Scratch,” he hisses, waving it around, getting his attention before chucking it off into the woods. The animal follows excitedly. Astarion isn’t sure where it went and he doesn’t care. Scratch is more a rival for your attention than anything else anyway. 

After a couple of minutes he finds you at the campfire, blissfully unaware. “Has anyone seen Scratch,” he asks, as innocently as he can manage. 

“Oh no,” your eyes quickly scan the campsite, “he must have wandered off.” You seem so distressed, he almost feels guilty. But this is his survival on the line. “Maybe I should go look for him.” 

“Do take Halsin my Dear, he’ll have the best chance at tracking,” and one less person around camp to watch. 

“Right,” you nod, standing and trodding off to the Druid. 

No sooner are you gone then Astarion is creeping into your tent when no one is looking. No light needed, he sees everything perfectly, including the little pack you shoved your book in last night. Victory. He wrests it from the spot under your pillow and plops down on your blankets to study it. What forbidden knowledge rests inside. The worn cover flips open to…

Sketches, sketches of him specifically. Not that he remembers what he looks like, but the clothes give it away, along with the poses, moments he remembers. Him, you’ve been drawing him. He continues to flip through the book, more bits of him, frozen in time, and the technique improves. Why are you doing this? The mirror, he remembers, being upset about not seeing his reflection. 

Sitting there in stunned silence, he feels an unpleasant weight in his chest. No one has ever done anything like this for him before. It’s…kind. Not that you’ve ever been any other way to him ever. Gods, what is he even doing, maybe he should just…

“Astarion!” Slamming the book shut, he jumps up. “Hello Darling, I-”

“You ruined the surprise,” you scold, looking so dejected he somehow feels worse than he did a moment ago. 

“I’m sorry, I was curious. I saw you with it the other night. It’s amazing though,” he tries to placate, guilt an emotion he’s buried for so long, but fear is there as well. Fear he’s crossed a line you won’t tolerate. 

Bending down, you retrieve the book from where it landed. “I was hoping to get something I was pleased with to show you, but I suppose it will have to do for now.” 

“Really, you shouldn’t bother so much with it,” you look up at him so sadly he quickly adds, “you do too much for me already. But I do appreciate this gift.” Impulsively he pulls you close and kisses you quickly before letting you go. “Is this really what you see? 

“That and so much more.” The way you stare at him with adoration, the way you always treat him so sweetly, the way he suddenly wants nothing more than to stand here in this tent forever, basking in you, it’s all becoming too much, he could almost swear he had a pulse to hammer in his veins. Hells, what has he gotten himself into with you? 

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 #my fanfic #my writing #asks

[shittysawtraps]

Hello, Mabel Pines hater.

In front of you is the show, which you haven't actually watched in a while. Don't lie to me, you haven't. Your goal is to watch the entire show from beginning to end while keeping the fact that everything Mabel does in the show is from the perspective of a twelve-year-old child, and not come out of it acting like said child is the devil incarnate for acting like a child.

Also you must write an entire essay that points out all the moments in the show where Dipper is just as flawed as she is, moments you were clearly willing to overlook when you were younger because you kinned him or whatever.

Also also your essay cannot include any phrase along the lines of 'Well Mabel never learned her lesson by the end or gave up anything for Dipper like he had to do for her', especially if you're going to either 1) use the words of the SHOW'S MAIN VILLAIN as proof of this claim or 2) ignore the fact that a majority of what Dipper had to 'give up' was the affection of a living, breathing girl who was never going to date him anyway and whom he still treated like some kind of prize to be won for a while. 

Also also, no mentioning how she 'started the apocalypse', because again, THE SHOW'S MAIN VILLAIN IS RIGHT THERE.

Fail to bring a nuanced mindset to these twelve-year-old child characters in the year 2023, and I'll drop you down the Bottomless Pit. Leave this girl alone.

#shitty saw traps #submission

[drdemonprince]

I was never really certain about my transition in the way that most gatekeeping hormone prescribers and curious members of the public demand that a trans person be. I didn’t “always know” that I was not cisgender. I haven’t “always known” anything about myself. Very few truths about me have always remained true, my existence is too interpersonal, contextual, and ever-evolving for all of that. (So is most everyone else’s, I think). I don’t think that the fact I’d eventually choose to exercise my body autonomy at age 30 by taking hormones is a decision I could have foreseen when I was a child. All that I knew about being transgender when I was a kid was a fact that most children intuitively know: gender assignment was a violation of my freedom, of everyone’s freedom in fact, and it was wrong. As an infant and then a child and teenager, people kept imposing labels on me; they kept forcing me and my body into prescribed gendered boxes, and while the specific labels and boxes never really felt like the right ones, the most disturbing part about it all was the forcing. No coerced identity would have ever felt right. Children can tell when secrets are being kept from them, and when adults are restricting their choices. They notice that they and the other children are being lined up boy-girl, boy-girl, without ever being told what a girl or a boy even is. They can see their parents frowning when they reach for the doll with the shimmery hair, or climb atop the neighbor kid on the playground. Kids know that they are forbidden from sitting with their legs spread wide or flicking their wrist, and their gender illegibility is shamed in them, long before they get any answers about what gender means or where it comes from or why it’s so important that they make themselves easy to understand.

Like the cloned children in Never Let Me Go who grow up being conditioned for a life of forced organ donation, children in a cissexist society grow up conditioned to fall within certain gendered boundary lines, and by the time they learn that the reason for this is almost completely arbitrary, they can’t imagine any alternative. Not until some of them hear about gender transition and find the prospect very compelling, for some reason. You can say that reason is because some of us are inherently trans, but there’s absolutely nothing in the way of brain science, genetics research, or even sociological data to back that up. Besides, the search for a biological “reason” that people are transgender or queer runs counter to the goal of queer liberation in the long run. Science only needs to explain the existence of transgender people (or queer people more broadly) if our existence is in some way aberrant or a problem. If queerness is accepted as a form of human diversity that simply exists, then there is no need to excuse it by claiming that it is never a choice. It can be a choice, if a person wants to make it, and hopefully it satisfies them, but maybe it won’t. Freedom to choose means freedom to forever be dissatisfied, to search endlessly for more, and yes, to capable of making a mistake. I would say that viewing myself as transgender was a choice. I decided to break away from the straight, female categories to which I had been assigned, and doing so allowed me to view the legal and societal power structures that had restricted me more clearly. It helped me better understand myself. But that does not mean the actual act of breaking away was always the truest reflection of who I am. The version of me that transitioned was a person on the run — and how a person behaves, thinks, and self-conceives when they are fleeing is not a great reflection of whom they might be if they were safe. If we all lived in a world free from mandatory gender assignment, and where our bodies were not mined for meaning about the kinds of sex we liked, the clothing we should wear, the personality qualities we have, the roles we should play in society, and the connections we are allowed to form with others, who knows who each of us might be. But none of us get to live in that world, or ever gets completely free from the frameworks of heterosexuality and the gender binary. These frameworks shape every legal institution we encounter, every school we attend, every item of clothing we put on, every substance we take into our bodies, every piece of paperwork that ever gets printed about us, and every look another person ever gives us. And so we make due with rewriting and recombining those frameworks as best we can. It should come as no surprise that those us who break away from the binary have to experiment and revise how we understand ourselves quite a bit — sometimes getting things “wrong,” sometimes searching forever for the semblance of something “right.” Sometimes reveling in the “wrongness” of all the available options is kind of the point.

I wrote about my detransition, retransition, and the eternal dissatisfaction that is probably the corest truth of my identity. It's free to read or have narrated to you on my Substack.