#House cleaning services Converse

[seoworking34]

Best Commercial Window Cleaning: Crystal-Clear Insights and Expert Tips Enhance your business environment with impeccable clarity! Explore the world of commercial window cleaning and discover expert tips for a gleaming workspace. Introduction: Welcome to the world where cleanliness meets professionalism – commercial window cleaning. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the nuances of…

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

-

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen. 

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet. 

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. 

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold. 

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed. 

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation. 

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave. 

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out. 

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different. 

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer. 

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up. 

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver. 

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave. 

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it. 

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down. 

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen. 

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again. 

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch. 

When the door opens, it startles you awake. 

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water. 

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink. 

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room. 

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you. 

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip. 

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers. 

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking. 

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer. 

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side. 

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss. 

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you. 

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you. 

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear. 

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place. 

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered. 

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck. 

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind. 

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus. 

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead. 

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat. 

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.  

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright. 

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum. 

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices. 

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap. 

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject. 

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again. 

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned. 

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so. 

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything. 

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes. 

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest. 

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed. 

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold. 

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh. 

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in. 

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous. 

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping. 

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up. 

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt. 

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat. 

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.  

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon. 

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—” 

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit. 

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out. 

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth. 

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak. 

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard. 

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts. 

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue. 

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.   

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think. 

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby. 

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift. 

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him. 

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow. 

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

“But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[gremlingottoosilly]

König x Housekeeper!Reader? He was expecting some little old lady, not a college student looking for an extra side hustle to pay their tuition. He can already picture them as a housewife as they work around his mess of a place.

You're playing with the poor man's heart! When he was signing up for the weekly maid services, he hoped that it would be different people each time. Calling in for a housekeeper and a cleaner is already embarrassing enough at his grown age - there is a voice inside his head that tells him he should man the fuck up and stop being so damn difficult about watching over his own house, but having a regular maid who would know just how messy his life is...yeah, he was not having it. He needed someone old and boring, someone who, preferably, doesn't even speak German so he won't have to awkwardly master the conversation. He got you instead. You're...you're fucking perfect. In cozy and comfortable clothes, nothing that hugs your body and suggests something innappropriate - and yet every time you bend over, he can't help but imagine the way your ass must look under these baggy pants and has to fight the urge to just grab your waist and slam his erection against the curve of your hip. You're eager to work, you buzz around the messy house like a busy bee you are - there isn't much of his personal items inside, but his clothes and various gear laying around does make it a messy space. You were wondering if he is either a soldier or a serial killer, judging by the amount of weapons you got laying around...but it's better to not ask this question. You just needed some money, and the maid services are paying on the day of work - with repeating clients actually sometimes leaving you a nice tip or something to eat if you were to clean their houses at the dead of the night...it's really nice, somehow. Konig just can't keep his hands to himself sometimes. You look too adorable not to compliment on how you look - although he never dares, usually just staring at you from the corner. You're probably thinking he is afraid of you stealing something, but it's not like you really care about any of this, to be completely honest...you just want to keep your head low and get money. Unfortunately for you, Konig has a thing for housewife and domestic life. One time you were doing the routinely cleaning and it got really late - and with Konig literally having his house as far from civillization as possible, ass the buses were already leaving from the stations, leaving you stranded until the morning...and you'd be fucked or in for a very hefty taxi bill if it weren't for Konig oh so generously allowing you to spend the night at the guest room. You knew each other for a few months already, and the guy is harmless...naturally, you agree. Naturally, you never left this house without him again.

[erinfern0]

husband simon "ghost" riley

husband!simon who cried while reading his vows, looking around the venue to see his team cheering for the both of you. They're one of the few people invited from his side of the room, but it was all the family he had and needed.

husband!simon who feels like he waited for this moment his whole life, the moment you finally said yes, giving yourself to him fully. Wearing the fanciest piece of clothing he ever had, saying the most important words he ever did, standing right beside you was a dream come true.

husband!simon who wouldn't drink a lot during your party, just admiring the view of you dancing and being so happy for him, with him. Especially enjoys when Kyle and Johnny stumble upon you and chuckle, pushing you towards the dance floor, having the time of their lives at the wedding of their favorite couple.

husband!simon who would take secret pictures of you, especially if you fall asleep amongst some guests. Head on Price's shoulder, Kyle's lap, or tangled up with Johnny on the couch in the hallway of the venue. He'll definitely torment you with them later, especially since you didn't really have a chance to get back at him as he has a spider-like sense for cameras and quickly avoids them.

husband!simon who's the happiest man alive beside you and would do absolutely anything to make you happy too. Acts of service are his favorite way to show you his love, especially when he's back from deployment for some time. Doing most chores and bringing you hot tea every morning,

husband!simon who spends as much time with you as he can, usually at home where he can just pull you close without caring for others. Grabbing your hips while you wash the dishes or pulling your waist when you try to get out of bed are a must.

husband!simon who just can't resist you, thinking about you all the time. Being far or close doesn't matter, you're on his mind 24/7. You can sleep beside him or be a thousand kilometers away, he's still thinking about you. If he can't see your face in the morning, he'd just imagine it with a smile on his face.

husband!simon who attends therapy regularly so he can be a better version of himself for the both of you. Especially if you're planning to make your little family a bigger one.

husband!simon who suffers from sleepless nights whenever you argue. He can't just fall asleep when you've just argued, so in most cases, he occupies his mind by cleaning the entire house or filling in some missing reports.

husband!simon who gets his stuff after the argument and gets ready to sleep on the couch, only to smirk when you enter the living room and make him come back to bed. You can't sleep without him as much as he can't without you. Yeah, you may not talk, but his arm will find its' way around your waist as you fall asleep.

husband!simon's favorite way to make up after an argument is waking you up with his arms around your frame and soothing apologies spilling from his lips. He loves the way you immediately pull him closer and comply, adding your own apologies to the mix.

husband!simon who is too old to care about morning breath, if you don't mind, he'll put a thousand kisses all over your face at any time of the day, especially to wake you up.

husband!simon who brags about you to his mates and won't shut up even if they complain. That's the price they pay after begging him to get to know more about his secret little love before.

husband!simon doesn't care about the money, because let's face it —he's got tons of it and will gladly spend it on you. Buys you secret gifts that he hides around the house before deployment, so you don't miss him too much.

husband!simon leaves the room whenever you call him. Your conversations are sacred, no matter how much his team wants to say hello, it's your time. They can call you themselves if they are so interested.

husband!simon who becomes a handyman as soon as you ask for anything. Your shelf is not leveled properly, and the sink is broken? Don't worry, love, he'll take care of it.

husband!simon who watches lots of documentaries with you in your free time. Also, secretly enjoys cooking shows and even more secretly — makeover TV shows. Especially the ones where they turn alternative-looking people into some normies, and loves to complain that they rip them off all their personalities.

husband!simon will get a matching tattoo with you. Probably already has some that remind him of you.

husband!simon who becomes very conversational, something you wouldn't expect the day you two meet. If you finally let him open up, he's yapping all the time with you, just rambles about all the little things that are on his mind.

husband!simon who very much enjoys those conversations while you two have sex, makes it even more sweet and domestic in his mind. Most of the time, you two talk about plans for the day or random chores that you need to finish while he pounds into you, making you both giggle and out of breath.

husband!simon definitely changes his tone around you. When Johnny heard that for the first time, his jaw dropped at the soft way he talked to you.

husband!simon who does everything in his power to protect you. The address he doesn't share with anyone, burner phones to contact you while being deployed, highest quality security. Most of the time uses nicknames instead of your name when in public, and probably one or two guard dogs that are y'alls most-loved pets (he pretends not to see how you spoil them while he's gone).

husband!simon who takes you on nice vacations whenever he can to make up for the time you two lost while he was deployed.

husband!simon who cannot see his future without you, you're stuck with him for eternity.

masterlist | request info

[devilish-cherry]

nanami relationship headcanons ♡

ᨳ♡₊➳ nanami x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ my other works

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: this post is just me projecting my need for someone emotionally mature and capable through nanami. please clap. 🙂‍↕️

₊⊹. nanami unironically has reminders set for relationship milestones. not because he's forgetful, but because he's practical. he'll deadpan tell you, "it's our anniversary tomorrow. expect a dinner that's slightly nicer than usual, but please keep your expectations reasonable."

₊⊹. you bought him novelty socks once. he said they were "childish." he now wears them every friday. they have little croissants on them. he doesn't talk about it. but when you pointed it out, he just said, "i was low on clean socks. coincidence." lies.

₊⊹. you once complained about him texting like a customer service chatbot. now, you'll get messages like "Dinner at 7. 👍" and after questioning him, he'll calmly explain, "i thought the thumbs up would indicate enthusiasm."

₊⊹. he respects your weird little hobbies like it's a full-time religion. you told him you liked collecting novelty erasers and now he's like, "i found this one shaped like a sushi roll. seemed appropriate. it's from a limited set." you don't even know where he finds these.

₊⊹. you once texted nanami "u up?" at 10:42 p.m. he responded at 6:00 a.m. the next day with, "I was asleep. As all sane adults should be." you then received a forwarded link to a sleep hygiene article and a reminder to hydrate. the man loves you, but sleep comes first. always.

₊⊹. on a particularly rough day, you find him staring dramatically out the window, murmuring, "this world continues to test my patience." when you ask what's wrong, he answers solemnly, "they discontinued my preferred rye bread."

₊⊹. he might complain about meaningless small talk, yet he listens patiently and intently whenever you excitedly ramble about your latest hyperfixation. later, you catch him quietly googling random obscure facts just so he can casually drop information into future conversations. "did you know," he'll begin flatly at dinner, "the specific species of salamander you adore has regenerative capabilities?" this is peak romance for him.

₊⊹. nanami keeps a grocery list in his notes app. it is secretly 80% just things you casually mentioned once.

₊⊹. if you have long hair, you notice he starts wearing your hair ties on his wrist. he vehemently denies sentimentality, claiming instead that it's practical, in case of "unexpected wind conditions."

₊⊹. he never says he misses you outright but texts random things like, "The house seems unnecessarily spacious today." you translate these awkwardly formal messages as "i miss you." and tease him relentlessly for it.

₊⊹. nanami looks so intimidatingly polished at all times, people assume he's naturally graceful. in reality, you've seen him bang his shin on the coffee table at least twice a week. each time he just quietly, painfully mutters, "fantastic."

₊⊹. the first time you suggest watching a cheesy romantic drama together, he provided dry commentary on unrealistic plot developments, muttering things like, "yes, because sprinting in heels through an airport is totally practical." with such seriousness you almost choke on your popcorn laughing.

₊⊹. despite being cool and collected, he's hilariously competitive at random things. he's calm until someone mentions board games. monopoly nights at home become overly serious. he mutters under his breath about property taxes, income inequality, and irresponsible fiscal policies as you nervously remind him, "nanami, it's fake money." he glares softly, "principles aren't fictional."

₊⊹. if you oversleep and panic, he watches calmly as you sprint around. when you complain, he sips his coffee and deadpans, "it’s simple: wake up earlier, or master teleportation."

₊⊹. nanami calls you by your name 95% of the time. once he called you "dear" and gojo materialized from the drywall like a poltergeist to scream about it. nanami now refuses to say anything remotely affectionate within a five-mile radius of gojo.

₊⊹. he is 100% the boyfriend who texts "Can you talk?" and immediately stresses you out, only to call and calmly ask, "which type of cereal did you want again?"

₊⊹. despite being generally indifferent towards animals, nanami somehow attracts stray cats. you regularly catch him sternly lecturing a cat, saying flatly, "i’m not feeding you again," while simultaneously sliding food toward it discreetly.

₊⊹. he openly claims he doesn’t nap. he merely "rests his eyes aggressively" on weekends, fully clothed on the couch, for precisely forty five minutes exactly.

₊⊹. he secretly enjoys watching documentaries about marine life but insists he's doing "important retirement research."

₊⊹. even though he seems eternally composed, when you get sick, nanami panics silently. he googles symptoms discreetly, sighs, then calmly states, "according to the internet, you either have a mild cold or twenty four hours left to live. please let me know which one so i can adjust my schedule accordingly."

₊⊹. he hates pda in theory, claiming it’s "inappropriate and disruptive," yet has zero hesitation holding your hand tightly when crossing busy streets, rationalizing it as "accident prevention."

₊⊹. nanami tries his absolute hardest to hate all forms of modern slang and phrases. until one day he overhears you calling gojo "a walking red flag" and suddenly he's very supportive.

₊⊹. you catch him watching cooking competition shows with intense seriousness, critiquing plating skills and muttering, "no self-respecting chef serves food smeared randomly like abstract art. are we dining or painting?"

₊⊹. despite his stoic demeanor, you catch glimpses of softness: like the slightly awkward way he offers his coat when you're cold, muttering, "don’t make a fuss, just wear it." or how he carefully holds the umbrella slightly more over you in the rain, grumbling about your poor planning yet never failing to protect you from a single raindrop.

₊⊹. he walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to traffic. holds doors for you even if it means awkwardly power-walking to get ahead. refills your water without being asked. the kind of love that’s low-volume but high-resolution.

[cupidlovesastro]

₊˚⊹ ࿔𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐲, 𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.𖥔 ݁˖ 𖦹₊⊹

🎞️other post you may enjoy⏳

pluto + scorpio observations

venus + taurus & libra observations

mercury and how you argue

☿ domicile mercuries (gemini & virgo) individuals can be very prone to overthinking, mental disorders, stress disorders, panic attacks, etc

☿ mercury in the 9h can mean you’re good at learning new languages and speaking them. you could also talk about politics often

☿ taurus mercuries can zone out while talking, taking long pauses, and can tend to ramble or talk for a long time

☿ mercury in the 8h can mean you like dirty talk in bed

☿ mercury trine neptune can make you a good dream interpreter

☿ cancer mercuries can start to feel emotions based on what they’re talking about, especially experiences. for example: if they’re ranting about something, they can get angry. if they’re talking about a pleasant experience, they can get happy, etc

☿ mercury conjunct uranus can mean your tone is unpredictable, maybe even your hand writing. you can be verbally unpredictable and impulsive as well. you may also be very intelligent and people often don’t understand your perspective

☿ mercury in the 1h can show that your talkative when first getting to meet someone. this can also show you come off intelligent as well

☿ mercury trine jupiter can mean you are a loud talker and a good manifestor

☿ earth or aquarius mercuries can be dry talkers/texters, and earth mercuries are more monotoned

♊︎ gemini stelliums can really enjoy learning things or even teaching others things. they also can have this childlike energy to them

♊︎ gemini in 2h can mean you value your thoughts and opinions over others. you also have a lot of money making ideas

♊︎ gemini mercuries can love joking around, and can be very talkative in general. they may also be faster talkers, they’re definitely fast thinkers

♊︎ gemini in the 10h can show that you will be famous for your thoughts and opinions. people may also see you as an expert at something, possibly something relating to writing, reading, etc

♊︎ gemini in the 8h can mean you can often flake on hookups and avoid sleeping with people

♊︎ gemini asc can have a more youthful appearance and a fox like eyes. they also often have smaller noses and bunny teeth

♊︎ gemini mars people may get angry when you insult their intelligence, and they may be prone to taking risk or being impulsive

♊︎ gemini in the 3h can mean you were the youngest sibling, maybe even if you aren’t the youngest, people may mistake you for the youngest

♊︎ gemini moon can show that you had a mother who was quite emotionally distant. you may also be an emotionally distant person and do not prefer emotional conversations

♊︎ gemini in the 5h can mean you like expressing yourself through writing, reading, crafting, drawing, etc. something where you can make it with your hands

♍︎ virgo suns can take pride in their analytical nature and can enjoy the criticism and advice they give others

♍︎ virgo venus’s can be deeply loyal and can be huge people pleasures for their lovers. they may also be a huge acts of service person

♍︎ virgo in 10h/2h individuals may be quite good in financial jobs or jobs where they deal with math and statistics

♍︎ virgo mars people may not want to have sex unless they’ve showered and cleaned theirself. they may also get mad over the smallest things

♍︎ virgo in the 4h people might want a house that is more simple and practical. and will likely prefer to live alone

♍︎ virgo asc individuals have shorter faces , bigger front teeth, and often have baby faces. they can look very put together as well. they can also be critical of their appearance

♍︎ virgo in 7h individuals might have enemies who are very critical of them and likely talk a lot of shit about you

♍︎ virgo moons may often have to make sense of their emotional and analyze them to truly understand them. they may also hyper focus on certain emotions

♍︎ virgo stelliums may be extreme realist, and often won’t dream of things or be big dreamers unless it’s realistic and obtainable

♍︎ virgo mercuries/ in 3h can be complainers, not intentionally, but they often have a lot to say. they can be ramblers, although introverted when you first meet them, and they always try to make sense of things

[beloveds-embrace]

what are the thoughts and feelings about acts of service TF141 with little miss independent?

Best thought that comes to mind, especially for Johnny, is trying to open the car door by yourself and he just slams it shut again and crawls over the roof to open it for you himself. Like this! Doesn’t matter how many times you’d try to do it yourself, he slams the door shut and quickly goes to open it for you himself.

“I wanna treat my lass right. Let me be a gentleman for ye, hen.” He always says, grin satisfied.

For Kyle, it’s helping you carry items. Doesn’t matter what you are carrying; tiny little trinkets while you rearrange your decorations? He’ll drag you into conversation and sneakily pull them into his own hands. Plates? He’s swiping them off your hands and setting the table too. Big boxes? Carefully plucks them out of your hands with a kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t doubt that you can carry them yourself,” he always says, another kiss on your forehead. “But why do it when I’m right here and I want to help, babe?”

Simon is a good fixer. He’s picked up many things while deployed, and if it means he can use all those skills to fix up anything out of shape in your house? He’s doing it.

“Move.” Elbows-deep in a broken sink pipe, you huff when you hear his words right behind you. You can see him place a clean towel for you in the corner of your eye while he nudges you aside, always so gentle with you.

“I can do it myself.“ you insist, irritation bubbling.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He replies, tightening the valve you’d been struggling with. You want to snap, but his hands are steady and there is not a lick of condescension or doubt in his voice towards you. “Will never doubt you, but you don’t have to do everything yourself.”

For John? Cooking. It’s caused so many arguments because you can cook for yourself and you don’t need him to feed you, you know how to cook, but-

John never lets you win the arguments.

“I want to see you well-fed.” He insists firmly, kissing your open palm after he takes the knife. “I know how to make a mean steak, so for today, cooking’s on me. You work late often, sweetheart, least I can do is make sure food’s ready when you come home.”

[yanderefarm]

yandere crime lord x sadistic male reader

cw;; torture, burn wounds, blood, gore, stockholm syndrome, yandere, drugs, kidnapping, murder, smoking, cruel reader

here he is.... my most fucked up bby girl. i wrote this a little differently than the others... i had a different vibe in mind.

achilles is the eldest son of a notorious mob family, the second most powerful in charge right under his father. he makes lots of big decisions, like his recent attempts to take over a smaller gang with cruelty and force. unfortunately being a sexy big shot comes with its own little vices, achilles likes smoking for instance. nasty habit especially for someone in his position, doesn't he realize how vulnerable he is when he's taking a smoke break? so easy for you to drug.

you flick some of the cigarette ash towards the man in question. he's on his knees arms tied behind his back and duct tape over his mouth. he keeps shooting you dirty looks. it's funny.

"such a waste..."

you run a red room service on the dark web. essentially, anyone with enough money can hire you to kidnap and torture whoever they want. some people hire you to make elaborate snuff videos with their desires all written out for you, other people let you and your audience decide what kind of torture would take place over your live streams. that's where the handsome man in front of you came from, the gang he'd been destroying had bought your services.

you had already explained that to him, as well as mocked him for his cigarette habit. now you were letting one of the cigarettes burn before your stream actually started, you didn't actually smoke it choosing instead to let him watch you waste it. his scowl was hot.

his screams were hotter. the first hour in, you had him covered in cigarette burns and his stomach flinching away from your touch. the second hour in, he had multiple gashes all over his trembling body. the third hour in, he had finally started to sob and his body was covered in lovely bruises.

"sorry guys, we can't kill him yet. but that means we get a toy for a little while!" you gripped his hair and brought his tear stained face up to the camera. "say goodbye to our friend!"

and that ended your first stream with your new toy. you cleaned him up and brought him to his new room.

"you'll probably be the show tomorrow unless I get another job. eat up." you gave him a nice dinner and pulled the duct tape off his mouth.

"... when will I die?"

"dunno. good work chilles, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

that's how it began. the guy ended up being your show about half the week for the next two months. never enough to kill him and every day you cleaned up his wounds and took good care of him. he never cursed you or complained about his place he would ask you questions and thank you for the food. it was pleasant conversation, he was a nice companion in your otherwise drab life.

it was halfway into the third month when you got news that those gang members who hired you were dead. you'd been waiting the whole time for them to pay for you to kill achilles and now it was never coming. at least you made good money from your streams in the meantime.

"you're free to go." you stood in the doorway of achilles's room.

his eyes looked at you, slowly widening as he realized what you said. "wh.. why?"

"m gonna drug you up and drop you in front of your house. you won't know where you were but I'd really appreciate if you didn't try to come after me at all. "

"why are you letting me go? did something happen?"

"you should quit smoking by the way. maybe i won't be able to get you-"

you saw something in his eyes snap. those eyes that had been practically blank the whole time even when the torture made him lose his voice from screaming. now they were dark and hazy, significantly more threatening than he'd been before. he crawled on his hands and knees to your leg and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

"why....? am i not.. did i do it wrong? i can be a good toy."

you were caught off guard by his reaction. "uh... well uh the guys who hired me like... they died without paying me to kill you. so like... i don't have a reason to keep you?"

"how much?"

"huh??"

"how much do you need to keep me?"

you reached down and gently carded your hand through his hair. "you don't want to stay here, dumbass."

"yes I do." he nuzzled his head into your hand.

"you really want to stay here and get tortured until you die? use your brain."

his darkened eyes looked up at you with the most pathetic look. "i want to stay with you."

"fuck" he's cute? he's cute. "ok...jesus, lets do this. you go home, get reunited with your family, try to get back to normal life. and I'll contact you so if you still want to be LITERALLY tortured over living your normal life I'll bring you back. ok?"

"you'll actually come get me, right?"

"yeah. I'll get you and I won't even make you pay."

"I'll be back soon." he rubbed his head against your leg. "please get your favorite tools ready."

[cyberclouddream]

The 6th House and Bad Fortunes

In Hellenistic astrology the 6th house is referred to the “place of bad fortune”, connected to disease and decline in vitality. Here it’s more associated with hardships and illness than daily routines and activities. This is due to it being twelve houses away from the 7th house, which would mean imprisonment to significant commitments, like our health and vitality.

It represents the challenges that arise when our creative and romantic aspirations meet reality. By addressing the issues related to health, routines, and service we can transform the challenges here into opportunities.

Aries Rising

- tedious jobs that demand grinding

- may clean up after others or work beneath your skill level

- burnout because of perfectionism

- overworking with little recognition

- hypochondria; frequent doctor’s visits or checkups

- nitpicky with coworkers

Remedies: balanced diet; prioritize and delegate tasks; activities that promote self-improvement; face issues head-on; eliminate distractions; learn to say no

Taurus Rising

- passive-aggressive co-workers

- people-pleasing overload

- headaches or skin problems

- jobs that lack beauty or creativity

- indecisive career path

- superficial relationship with colleagues

Remedies: make workplace aesthetically pleasing; distinguish supportive relationships from toxic ones; take proactive steps to manage burnout; stay physically active

Gemini Rising

- jobs full of manipulation, power struggles, or drama

- unhealthy or overwhelming intensity at work

- anxiety, digestive issues, or fatigue

- strong desire for control over work environment and tasks clash

- help others with hidden agendas

Remedies: stop avoiding hard tasks; let go of grudges; find a life outside of work; channel rage into work; get regular check ups

Cancer Rising

- dissatisfaction in routines

- overcommitting to responsibilities

- lack of exercise, weight issues, digestive problems

- conflict with traditions or authority

- too much optimism

Remedies: learn to focus on tasks; be wary of escapism; be honest about what you can handle; establish flexible routines

Leo Rising

- rigid rules or strict hierarchies in workplace

- relentless pursuit for success

- issues with bones, joints, or skin

- missing opportunities for joy

- feelings of isolation and loneliness

Remedies: drop guilt about labor and delegate tasks; don’t take work too seriously; reassess goals if feeling stagnant or underappreciated

Virgo Rising

- jobs that feel misaligned with values or ideals

- alienation at work

- inconsistent health practices; issues with circulation, nervous system, or sudden changes in well-being

- rebel against routine tasks or authority figures

- difficulties with structure or traditional methods

Remedies: make decisions instead of overthinking; engage more with colleagues; address and change when there’s discomfort; stop idealizing job or coworkers; embrace structure

Libra Rising

- neglect important tasks and responsibilities

- elusive health issues; frustration when seeking health solutions; often feel tired without clear reason

- sensitivity leads to overwhelming emotional labor

- lack of structure in workplace

- romanticizing hardships, sacrifices, or struggles

Remedies: stop dreaming and start doing; get real about health issues; don’t overindulge in pleasures; don’t let feelings dictate work ethic; confront conversations and conflicts head-on

Scorpio Rising

- rush into tasks without proper planning

- take on too much workload at once

- headaches, high blood pressure, or injuries over overexertion

- struggles with monotonous tasks

- inconsistent motivations

Remedies: think before you speak to not burn bridges; learn to collaborate; own your mistakes; get organized

Sagittarius Rising

- stuck in unfulfilling jobs that lack progress

- overindulge in comforts; overeating or neglecting physical activity

- resistance to new opportunities and changes at work

- jobs that offer little financial security

- neglecting mental health

Remedies: don’t cling to routines or methods; avoid complacency; don’t overindulge in comfort foods or luxuries; don’t expect people to read your mind

Capricorn Rising

- erratic work performance

- overwhelmed by too many projects

- headaches, digestive issues, or anxiety

- resist structured routines

- prioritize mental stimulation over exercise or proper nutrition

Remedies: don’t take on too many tasks at once; confront workplace drama; avoid procrastination; make time for resting well; think before you speak to avoid misunderstandings

Aquarius Rising

- difficulty separating feelings from workplace

- fluctuating health issues, like digestive problems or issues linked to their emotional state

- prioritizing helping others over their own needs

- home dynamics effect work

- lack of professional boundaries

Remedies: don’t play victim; set emotional boundaries at work; don’t beat around the bush; avoid overindulgence; be realistic about your limitations

Pisces Rising

- snuggle with recognition at work

- desires for leadership clash with authority

- neglect health for status and appearance

- difficulties maintaining routine

- dramatic responses to setbacks, like unnecessary stress

Remedies: quit trying to be the center of attention at work; limit drama and theatrics; don’t let your pride blind from constructive criticism; be a team player; avoid overcommitting because of your passion;

[moralisist]

I read the one where Nanami spoils his spoiled wife more. Can we please get a version of him spoiling a hyperindependent(pathological atp) wife? She's all "I can do this on my own, you go do your work" and shit like that. But our Kento isn't having it because he lives to take care of us?

nanami can’t stand it when you refuse his help. he believes a husband should always stand right beside his wife when she needs him. he’s willing to drop anything at anytime just for you, all you need to do is ask! but you don’t, so what’s a husband to do?

nanami has you studied by now. whenever you’re cooking dinner, he’ll begin making conversation and then slowly easing into helping you chop vegetables, and setting the table. he knows as soon as he’d try to visibly help you, you’d send him right back to his office against his protests.

he appreciates everything you do for him, don’t get him wrong, but he so badly wants to reciprocate that energy.

you guys have had deep conversations and he knows why you are the way you are. you were raised to depend on yourself and not need others, essentially developing a hyper independence. you always feel so bad when someone has to help you with something but it’s comedic that u got with a man who desperately craves taking care of you and all that you are.

“whyre you picking that box up baby? it’s heavy.” kento catches you in the garage trying to bring in the kitchen plates into your new house and starts to walk towards you.

“i got it ken! don’t come any closer!” you’re struggling to hold the box up but you were determined. how hard could it be to bring it to the kitchen?

“come on honey, just give it to me.” nanami reaches for the box and you jerk it away from him. “i told you i got it!” you borderline whine.

“i’m not asking.” he suddenly deadpans and takes the box from u swiftly and you can’t help but give him an attitude as you watch him bring in the boxes so he can unpack. you know he means well but you knew you had it!

nanami likes to show acts of service and he does it as easy as breathing, only if you let him.

“when’s your doctors appointment? it’s this tuesday right?” you both just finished dinner and nanami takes both of your plates up to the sink to clean them.

“yeah, you wanna come with?” you subtly take the plates and begin hand washing them.

nanami eyes you. “yes my love, that’s why i was asking.” he takes the plates and drys them for you, putting them on the rack to let it air dry some more. actions like these were unspoken but common within the nanami household.

he had to learn to navigate your independence and it’s been a journey. he relates heavily which is what attracted you both to each other, but it was in his blood to take care of you.

he didn’t care how difficult you’d be after he handled things, he just wanted to make sure it was handled. he loves his independent wife but he loves making your life easier even more.

[discoscoob]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ JOHN WICK’S ESCORT SERVICE

˙ ✩°˖💍⋆｡˚ Escort!John Wick x Reader

Synopsis: in order to combat the loneliness and isolation of his retirement, John starts an escort business. Things are going well, until you hire him to pretend to be your new partner at your ex’s destination wedding and he starts breaking all his rules. 3.4k.

A/N: this would not have gotten written without the help of @treedaddypuff’s ideas, some of which I have included, thank you for your help! 🫶

JOHN WICK

The events of the first John Wick movie happened. He’s got Dog, he’s got his car back and Santio didn’t come and bother him so he hasn’t had very much to do.

He starts to become isolated, he spends all that time alone in his house. His only company is Dog but he’s starved of human contact, except for his weekly visits to Aurelio’s garage to check on the progress of his car repairs during which Aurelio remarks how John needs to ‘get out more.’

He suggests some type of bounty work, kind of like Tracker in JW4, let’s say that type of business isn’t directly afflicted with the high table as long as you do it right and keep your nose clean. It’s the type of work that would be a walk in the park for someone like John Wick, easy money and it’ll give him something to keep him occupied, but John isn’t interested. He doesn’t want to hurt people anymore, he insists he is content with his life as it is but Aurelio isn’t convinced, he can see he’s depressed and lonely.

Aurelio suggests he should at least try and find someone, John is even more against this idea. At this point he isn’t interested in finding another partner and he doesn’t believe he ever will be. However, there are certain things he misses, going on dates, the conversations, taking care of someone but he feels it wouldn’t be right to date when his heart is not really in it, he doesn’t want to feel as though he’s stringing anyone along.

That’s when Aurelio, half-joking, brings up escort work. It takes out all the complicated and messy feelings involved with real dating. He doesn’t have to worry about stringing anyone along because it would be a purely transactional service. It’ll get him out of the house, some human interaction and he’ll earn some money. (not that he needs it but it’s always a bonus.)

He discovers he actually really enjoys it and he’s good at it. One of his favourite parts about being with Helen was spoiling her, performing acts of service and romancing her. This allows him to do all those things without any attachments. He doesn’t sleep with his clients, it’s strictly dates. I headcanon him as demisexual so he doesn’t really experience sexual attraction unless there are feelings involved. He does on occasion have to stop a few clients when they try to take things further - who can blame them? But he’s really sweet at letting them down gently.

He’s been doing escort work for about six months by the time you hire him, however this job is a little different, it requires travelling for a destination wedding which means multiple days. By this point, he’s only ever done single dates but he reasons that a few days away would be a nice change and he leaves Dog in the care of Charon.

READER

You’ve been invited to your exes destination wedding. This is a disaster.

It’s a disaster because you still haven’t quite gotten over him. You’re coworkers, you see. You work at the same hospital - it’s Dr. Julian Mercer.

“It’s a plus one so you can bring your boyfriend along, it’ll be nice to finally meet him.” he cordially dropped the wedding invitation on your desk.

The thing is, you don’t actually have a boyfriend. That was just something you made up in a moment of panic and you’ve been desperately clinging to the lie ever since. In reality, you’re tragically single and you haven’t dated anyone since your relationship with Julian ended. To say you were freaking out would be an understatement.

What were you going to do? You thought about skipping the whole thing entirely, telling him your (nonexistent) relationship ended and you’re just not in the right headspace to attend a wedding so soon after a break up. No! Pretending to be going through a break up while your ex is getting happily married would be even more tragic than being single. What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

Confiding in your best friend, you tell her your predicament. Of course she doesn’t tell you to do the sensible thing. “You need to go to that wedding and you need to show everyone that you’ve moved on and you’re happy!” You’re certain you’re neither of those things but god forbid anyone should actually know that! Especially your perfect ex and his perfect soon-to-be-wife. She tells you to hire someone to pretend to be your boyfriend for the weekend.

Your immediate reaction is absolutely not! But you quickly realise how limited your options actually are. With the help of some Dutch courage, you bite the bullet and do some research into male escorts.

Upon seeing the prices you quickly realise this is way out of your budget, until you come across John Wick. His prices are far more reasonable. (John doesn’t charge very much since he isn’t doing this because he needs to make a living, so he sets his rate pretty low, feeling as though he doesn’t want to rip anyone off.) It almost seems too good to be true but you decide to call the number anyway.

Your breath hitches when you hear his voice for the first time over the phone. It takes you a moment to collect yourself and start talking, nervously enquiring that this is in fact John Wick and he is available to hire as an escort.

You explain that you would like to hire him to attend a destination wedding with you as your plus one. You decide to leave out the major details that it's your ex's wedding and he’ll need to pretend that he is your long-term partner. You've already elected that you will reveal all this on the plane so that if he thinks you’re batshit crazy it’ll be too late for him to back out. Maybe that’s sneaky but… *shrugs*

JOHN AND READER

John meets you for the first time at the airport, introducing himself with a polite kiss on the back of your hand.

Your reaction isn’t quite what he was expecting. You seem distracted.

“Oh… you don’t have to switch that on until we get to the wedding.” Switch that on? That’s a first. John has never been told to switch off the charm by a client before. Perhaps that’s the moment you intrigue him.

It’s obvious you find this whole thing quite awkward, you barely say two words to him while you both wait in the flight lounge. John is used to that. He has had many clients who need coaxing out of their shells and persuaded to indulge, without any shame, in the services he provides.

It’s not until the seatbelts are on and the plane is speeding up on the runway to take off that he hears the full story.

“It’s my ex’s wedding.” you tell him over the whir of the plane engine, your eyes locked on the fasten seatbelts sign. “I sort of told him I have a boyfriend so he gave me a plus one invite, expecting me to bring him with me. But I don’t have a boyfriend so I need you to pretend you're my boyfriend.”

This isn’t new for John. He’s played boyfriend’s, husband’s, even side pieces if the situation calls for it. He doesn’t judge.

“You want to make him jealous.” It’s more of an observation than a question.

“No!” you answer almost immediately, “no, I’m showing him that I’m happy and I’ve moved.”

“Right.”

John is not convinced.

Usually in cases where he is playing the part of a partner, there’s an alias and some backstory.

“Does your “boyfriend” have a name?”

“It’s… John, actually.”

What were the chances? That earns a slight chuckle.

“What? John is a very common name and I was under pressure when I made it up.”

“Maybe it’s kismet.” he can’t help but tease.

Obviously when you arrive at the hotel and check into the room there’s only one bed. Why wouldn’t there be? You’re supposed to be a couple yet somehow this arrangement hadn’t crossed either of your minds.

“I’ll take the floor.” John breaks the awkward silence that had encapsulated you both while you stood in the doorway staring at the bed.

The way he says it tells you that it’s not up for debate so you don’t even bother.

The part you were looking forward to most was the look on Julian’s face when you stepped into the dinner rehearsal with John by your side. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you that Julian wasn’t entirely convinced about your claims that you had a boyfriend, you weren’t the best liar. He had caught you stumbling up a few times and was more than happy to call you out on it and watch in delight as you stumble over yourself to cover up the mishap. Clearly he had given you the plus one invite to his wedding to catch you out and prove once and for all that you had made the whole thing up.

Seeing that smile wiped off his face, even if only for a moment, as he caught sight of the tall, dark and handsome stranger next to you was quite satisfying to say the least.

“I’m pleased you could make it.” Julian welcomes you both, sizing up John. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet this allusive boyfriend I’ve heard so much about.”

John returns with some underhanded remark about how he hasn’t heard much about him in return, insinuating that you’re so moved on you barely talk about him.

You can almost see the bruise forming on Julian’s ego.

John is totally locked in and committed to the assignment.

It’s safe to say that John takes an instant dislike towards your ex. He finds the overly extravagant destination wedding to be an ostentatious display of his wealth and status. He can’t help but compare how private and intimate his and Helen’s wedding was in comparison - it was something sacred and precious just for them.

Throughout the dinner rehearsal, John is attentive and sweet towards you - really “switching it on” as you put it. But you’re still distracted. He’s out here giving his best performance, trying to really sell how happy and moved on you are but your longing eyes keep straying towards Julian and his soon-to-be-wife.

It’s frustrating but John has never backed down from a challenge.

A long since forgotten feeling begins to stir in John’s gut. A feeling he used to feel whenever Helen’s attention was stolen too much by someone else or she reminisced about her past lovers.

John has been on dates with married clients before who spent the whole time talking about their partner and he never felt even an ounce of jealousy. Why should he care that you're still so hung up on your ex? Why does he want your attention so much?

Later that night, when John steps out of the ensuite freshly showered, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with your face buried in your hands. He can’t hear it, but from the jerky movement of your shoulders, he can tell you’re crying.

“Are you okay?”

You jump. Jesus, when did he come back? You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Despite the obvious state you’re in, you try to dismiss his concern and pretend you’re okay. Of course John doesn’t buy it and he persuades you to open up.

He can be very persuasive.

You tell him about how you had imagined all this with you and Julian. The perfect, beautiful wedding. Seeing it become a reality right in front of your eyes with someone else in your place hurts you more than you ever thought it could.

John wants to ask you why you still give a shit about that jerk, but he understands more than most that love can make us do and feel crazy things, even when it doesn’t make rational sense. So instead, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucks your head under his chin and lets you cry as much as you need.

“We can leave if you want.” he offers, not wanting you to endure anymore of this weekend if it is causing you distress but you refuse, you want to see this through.

That night you ask John to hold you, just until you fall asleep. Of course, he obliges.

He would happily continue to hold you long after you have fallen asleep, but you didn’t ask for that and he reminds himself of his rules. He carefully slips away from you, tucking the quilt snugly around your shoulders and resists the urge to leave a kiss on your forehead.

The following morning, the day of the wedding ceremony, you can’t even hide how utterly miserable you feel.

His hands quiver as he zips up the back of your dress, his eyes trailing along the dips and curves of your skin as it disappears behind the fabric.

He stops you just before you both step out of the hotel room. He needs to tell you something.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he tells you about Helen. He recounts the story of their wedding day and how perfect it was. He tells you how he felt like the luckiest man in the world and it was far beyond anything he believed he deserved.

He tells you that whatever Julian is feeling for his bride is not even close to how he felt for Helen.

You see, John is good at reading people, it’s something he had to learn in his line of work. He tells you that Julian is not in love, at least not with anyone but himself.

You ask him why he’s telling you all this.

He is telling you this because you want to be in his bride's place so bad but the whole thing is a facade. He tells you that you deserve something honest and real. Something like he had with Helen.

This occupies your mind the whole way to the ceremony.

When Julian walks past your seats on his way down the aisle to wait at the altar for his bride, your gaze follows him until John catches your chin and pulls your focus towards him, pressing a firm and deliberate kiss to your lips. Neither of you notice the way Julian glances over his shoulder at you both.

Something clicks inside you and you melt into the kiss, your fingers finding purchase in the long strands of soft hair that frame his face to hold him in place.

The complicated thing with hiring an escort is, you can’t be certain that any of this is real.

John hardly ever takes his hands off of you for the rest of the day. If your fingers aren’t interlocked, his arm is around your waist. If he’s not stroking strands of hair away from your face, he’s caressing your cheek.

He wants your attention. He wants you.

At the reception, when Julian sits himself down in the chair next to you, John hooks his foot into the leg of your chair, pulling it closer to his so he can rest his arm over the back of it while glaring at Julian.

Credits: [x] [xx]

“I’d love to know how you two met.”

“Online.” answers John, in his famously deadpan delivery, without any further explanation. Did he lie?

It clearly wasn’t an answer Julian was expecting.

John seems to be the only one who is unfazed by the awkward silence that follows, taking a sip of his bourbon.

“And what is it you do, exactly?” Julian continues his line of questioning.

“I’m retired.” John almost seems bored.

“From what?”

John pauses, taking a moment to enjoy another sip of his bourbon.

Credit: [x]

“Management.”

Before Julian can ask anymore questions, John stands and offers you his hand.

Without another word or so much as a glance towards your ex, he leads you to the dance floor.

I headcanon that John loves to slow dance. For years he has been trained to move and use his body in ways to hurt, kill and maim, but slow dancing allows him to utilise his precision, control and coordination in a way that is intimate and tender. The synchronicity of your bodies, the closeness - it’s vulnerable. He first developed a love for slow dancing with Helen, until then dancing reminded him of Ruska Roma. She gave it a whole new meaning for him.

You fit perfectly in his arms. In that moment, with your cheek pressed against his, he doesn’t know how he is ever going to bring himself to let you go. This job was supposed to be easy and cut out the complications of dating by making it transactional but John has found himself in a situation he never once believed possible. He is falling for one of his clients.

Silently, he leads you away from the function, offering no explanation to your puzzled glance.

In the elevator ride to the floor of your shared hotel room, away from prying eyes, he slowly backs you against the wall. The moment is charged with longing, tension and barely concealed feelings.

There is an unmistakable flash of determination in the bottomless depths of his dark gaze that, without a single touch, firmly pins you in place against the wall.

There is no mistaking that this is real.

“John, what about your rul-”

Before you can even finish that sentence, he’s shutting you up with his lips firmly planted against yours.

NSFW

Ever since he lost Helen, John has starved himself of physical touch and intimacy with another person and you have awoken his insatiable appetite.

Similarly, you haven’t been with anyone since your relationship with Julian ended.

There are definitely some nerves there for you both.

It really hits once you stumble into the hotel room with your lips attached and your tugging his dress shirt out from his pants.

John halts your movements, engulfing your hands in his. God, they’re huge!

He takes a beat, his forehead pressed against yours, rough breaths escaping his parted lips, fanning over your neck.

Holding his eyelids shut to hide the conflict behind his eyes, he struggles against himself in his own mind.

All he can think about is how you might react when you see his scars.

“Sit down.” he gently urges you to sit on the edge of the bed.

Standing before you, he slips off his tie, strips off his jacket and slowly unbuttons his black shirt without breaking eye contact.

You gulp when you see his scars, releasing a shuddering breath. A suffocating ache snatches your heart in its cruel icy grip.

In one big stride, he’s standing between your legs, dwarfing your face as he cradles your jaw in his hands, urging you to look up at him.

“Do you want this?” Do you want me?

All it takes is a subtle nod before John is peppering a constellation of kisses across your face. Pressing his knees into the mattress on either side of you, his fingers delve into your hair gripping it just enough to hold you steady as he looms over you.

For John, your pleasure comes first. He will worship you. But he needs to know that there are no distractions.

“You with me, baby?”

He needs to hear you say it.

Drives you to the brink of insanity with his face buried between your thighs, legs hooked over his shoulders and his hands against your stomach holding you down. No matter how much you pull and tug on his tousled mane, he simply growls and teasingly nips at your poor overstimulated flesh.

Fingers you until the pads of his fingertips begin to prune.

Stretching you open as he sinks in at an agonising pace, it feels never-ending. A sheen of sweat clings to the taut muscles of his arms and a string of moan enveloped curses slip from his tongue.

Breathlessly praises you and whispers sweet names in your ear while stroking his hand through your hair when you come on his cock.

Continues to praise you and tell you how good you were for him as he rolls the both of you over until you’re spooning.

He wants to make you feel precious and treasured.

He could stay awake longer if he needed to but he feels so safe with you he allows himself to let his guard down and sink into a deep sleep.

The following morning, a tickle wriggles through your body, stirring you awake as John’s coarse facial hair scrapes against the sensitive junction between your shoulder and your neck.

“I’ve got something for you.” he presses an envelope into your palm, wrapping your fingers around it. It’s full of cash - the fee it cost to hire him. “I can’t keep this now. But I hope I can keep you instead.”

He can keep you forever.

[kitkatscabinet]

STARTING A FAMILY

PAIRING: Wally West x fem! reader

REQUESTED: by anon as part of dc drabbles

A/N: we already had a pregnancy with Wally so I thought I'd try something different.

You'd seen a lot of truly horrific things in your days as a first responder, but the sight of a child covered in his mother and sister's blood and lying next to their dead bodies was hardly something you were accustomed to.

"Hey little guy." You coaxed, gently picking him up when he didn't flinch away from you. You kept your tone soft, doing your best to ignore the blood that was now blood seeping into your clothes. "Hey buddy."

"What's your name huh?" You gently run a hand over his hair, scanning for any visible injuries.

He doesn't answer, staring up at you with wide eyes before he turns and buries his face in your neck. You freeze momentarily, before forcing yourself to relax.

"Ok sweetheart, I'm gonna take you to get cleaned up now, yeah?" You gently cradled the back of his head, preventing the kid from looking at his dead family as you walked back out to the ambulance.

The kid refuses to let you go, even just to get cleaned up, and the second someone tries to take him away, he starts screaming bloody murder.

You hold him in your arms until child services arrives but even then the boy, Lucas, the detectives tell you, wails the second you're more than a few feet away.

Your heart breaks, and you're stepping forward, pulling him against your side. "I have a valid foster licence... can he... stay with me?"

The social worker hesitates but then Lucas speaks for the first time in hours, his voice soft and scratchy and filled with hope, "please, I wanna go with her."

It takes a few more hours to work everything out, but eventually, you're walking over the threshold into your house, a four year old, exhausted child asleep in your arms.

It's not until you sink down into your couch that the events of the day fully sink in. You have a child now, a little life you're responsible for, and —

Oh God, you hadn't even consulted Wally.

Lucas whimpers in your arms, and all thoughts of your fiance fly out the window as you work on soothing the little boy.

By the time he settles down, you're on the verge of falling asleep yourself. You try to wait up for Wally, really you do, but the emotional weight of the day finally takes its toll and you fall asleep with Lucas still in your arms.

It's a few hours later when Wally gets home, swining the door open with a dramatic, "Honey, I'm home!" Faltering when you didn't respond.

"Honey? You here?" He frowns, dropping his jacket in the foyer as he starts to search for you, only to stumble at the sight of you passed out on the couch, a protective hand sprawled across the back of a child.

A child that's now staring up at him with wide, suspicious eyes. "Who're you?"

"Who am I? Who are you, kid?" Wally flounders and it's enough to make you stir.

"Huh? Wally?" You rub the sleep from your eyes with a yawn.

He blinks at you, utterly thrown. "Hey babe, care to explain why there's a tiny person in my spot?"

Lucas scowls at him, clutching your shirt tighter. "I don't trust him."

Wally squawks in offence while you bite back a laugh, patting Lucas’s back in a sleepy, instinctive rhythm. "His name's Lucas. He… he needed someone."

Wally watches the way your fingers run softly over the kid's back, the way Lucas melts just a little under your touch. You probably don’t even realize how natural it looks, how maternal.

"Was gonna text you, but figured this was probably a conversation better had in person." You mumbled sleepily.

Wally kneels next to the couch, gently brushing your hair back as he looks between the two of you. "Okay. So… I’m guessing there's a good reason he's here?"

There was a beat of silence. You reached down and brushed a hand over Wally’s cheek as you sighed, eyes flickering to Lucas. "I know I should have consulted you first, come up with a plan of some sorts," you murmured, "But he didn't have anywhere else to go and... I couldn't just leave him."

"I wouldn’t have wanted you to." He says softly, staring at you with nothing but love and adoration. He watches you expertly soothe the little boy back to sleep.

His hand found yours and squeezed it gently. Another moment passed, and then, more quietly, Wally said, "I think… I want this."

You stare at him in disbelief and a little bit of hope.

"I mean it," he continued, voice barely above a whisper. "The late nights, the tiny shoes by the door, the mess and chaos and cartoons and everything. I want it. A family, with you... I've been meaning to bring it up for a while now." He admits.

Emotion swelled in your chest so quickly it nearly caught you off guard. "I want that too," you whispered, trying to hold back the sudden wave of tears, "more than anything."

Wally chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, heart thudding with something terrified and tender. "We'll figure this out, together, ok?"

"Together."

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[niiwa-angel]

I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the Transformers Fandom so I'm going to make it everyone's problem. Imagine humans have weird but casual interactions with the Transformers.

You're a garage owner going about your day when this giant fucking robot knocks on your roof and asks if you sell tires. Apparently, there was a top secret battle between the military/Autobots and the Decepticons a few miles away and this dude got one of his tires blown out. They have more back at base but having a ruined tire is really uncomfortable so he's wondering if you have a possible replacement. And like, you do and these guys have saved the planet a few times so sure, you fetch a tire and replace his broken one while sweating balls because you do not want to upset this thing. Once you're done he just nods and thanks you and fucks off. You're a little jaded that he didn't pay but 1. He definitely doesn't have human currency and 2. He's saved your planet a few times so you can probably eat the cost of a tire.

And then the fucker turns up a few weeks later with a chunk of gold that he found in a mountain like Hey! This is valuable to humans right? And he gives you that, which is waaaayyy more than the cost of one tire but you don't know how to break a chunk of gold and he's driving off before you can ask if he wants change. That's just life sometimes.

~~~

Or! Imagine some poor impound worker freaking the fuck out when one of their impounded cars just turns into a robot, breaks off the boot, and is really pissed off about how they wound up there. And that poor fucker has to be the one to explain no overnight parking to an alien robot that is VERY upset about being dragged here. They're stomping off before the worker can explain to them that they also have to pay a fine which is probably for the best because how the fuck are you supposed to explain that?

Meanwhile, the robot is stomping off down the street muttering about how you can't even recharge on this Primus forsaken planet without some human bothering you about it. And what's the point of all those parking lots of you can't park there?

~~~

The Transformers being Awkward about human interaction and taking a lot from what they see, even if it's wrong. Bumblebee, Mirage, Jazz, and Arcee are flipping civilians the bird pretty indiscriminately while in town, which is really confusing. So when one of the military guys walks by, it gets pointed out and they explain that when they're in their car mode driving to missions, they often get flipped off by other drivers who are annoyed that they're driving so recklessly. But! They don't realize it's an insult they just think it's a greeting so they have to have a debriefing about it later. They apologize for the insult.

~~~

Everyone thought Bumblebee was the family friendly robot because he usually kept a civil tongue. But that was exclusively because what he had access too on public radio was pretty clean. With the widespread use of podcasts and streaming services, he actually curses like a sailor and it's freaky.

~~~

Somebody has one of those lawn mowing Roombas that's out doing it's fucking job when Starscream sees it from above and comes down to try and talk to it, see if it's a Decepticon. Even when he figures out it's not, he takes it anyway because it has blades so that might be useful. Meanwhile, poor dude is just in their fucking house watching their lawnmower get kidnapped without being able to do anything about it. Except call the hotline which leads to a very weird conversation.

"hey uh, so this isn't an emergency but a Decepticon just stole my lawn mower. Not sure if you can do anything about that."

"ah yes. Sorry sir, they sometimes do that. We'll try and send a replacement, what's the model?"

And then a few weeks later Optimus Prime shows up with an exact model of the one that was stolen, apologies for the inconvenience, and drives away. However, the Autobots are also fascinated by your lawnmower and so occasionally your yard is invaded by an alien robot that watches enthralled as your lawn is mowed.

~~~

Living in a cold area prevents you from seeing either Autobots or Decepticons in the winter time because it doesn't snow on Cybertron and they really don't fucking like it. Their best way of dealing with snow is to hide out in their heated lairs and just ride it out, they aren't going out in that shit.

~~~

They also hate hail so sometimes they'll hide under overpasses with bikers. It's a weird sight, a group of bikers and Mirage just hanging out under an overpass, shooting the shit, waiting for the weather to clear up.

~~~

Living near an American military base means sometimes you see the Autobots out and about. They get leave too and they like to explore. Favourite places to frequent include drive in theaters, parks, especially if they have animals, sports arenas (they can climb up on the roof and look in), and scrap yards.

~~~

Cybertronians can eat metal (we saw the robot dinosaur try eating cars in one of the Bayverse movies so I like to think all of them can do it.) so it's a frequent snack for them. They've figured out not to eat things that belong to humans but they consider the scrap yards to be fair game. If you see a giant robot ripping apart old cars to take some parts just leave it be, they're getting snacks.

If you see Rachet yelling at that same robot later, it's because processed earth metal is basically junk food and eating too much of it makes them sick. That does not stop them.

~~~

After a battle the local carwashes are pretty well filled with Autobots trying to wash the mud and gunk off themselves because apparently they can't get into the transport ships that dirty. The locals aren't sure if that's a military rule or a rule Optimus Prime implemented but it's sure fun to speculate.

[innocent-artery]

You Snooze You Lose

3.9k words

Summary: you're just about to give up on the dating scene altogether, so who better than your neighbor friend to show you how good dates usually end? can you tell this is my favorite trope

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (can be interpreted as older!Eddie)

For the sake of avoiding spoilers, extensive warnings will not be given. This story includes sexually explicit material, reader discretion advised.

While reading, I recommend listening to the altar is my hips, a spotify playlist by me!

~

Your head fell back against the car, inhaling deeply and heaving a long sigh that devolved into something of a groan. Your social battery was impossibly drained.

You had just come from another pitiful excuse of a date, someone from work that a mutual friend had set you up with. It wasn't a total disaster, but it didn't leave you with butterflies either. But you were home now, so you could forget about the experience for the timebeing.

A voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. It was one you recognized immediately as your next door neighbor, Eddie. When your eyes located him you saw him sauntering out of his open garage towards your driveway, beer in one hand and jean pocket over the other. His chunky boots set in stone his walk, so casual and powerful, and oh god he's right in front of you now.

"You must be doing some serious thinking out here," Eddie chuckled, leaning on your car opposite you. "Either that or there's more to that tree than meets the eye because you've been staring at it for the last five minutes."

You chuckled back at him. "You've been watching me?"

"With a face like that, it'd be a crime not to."

There it was again. That little game you and Eddie played. Even from your first day in the neighborhood Eddie welcomed you with his abrasive charm and an open invitation to his services on a car. Which he seemed to exercise often- his garage door was often open during the afternoons, blasting music as he sat under his car doing god knows what. He never failed to wave and wink at you as you pulled into the driveway every day as you came home from work.

As you became more accustomed to him, your friendship evolved into frequent Friday night hangouts, sitting on the ground in the living room with a six pack talking about anything and everything.

You hated to admit it, but it didn't take long for your cheeks and ears to start to get embarrassingly red in front of Eddie, especially when your conversation topics became more, well, intimate. Whether or not he'd picked up on it, you didn't know- nothing had ever come of your little crush; you'd been content to leave that between you and your vibrator.

"Kid? Y'alright?"

There you go again. You shook your head, blinking a few times before shooting him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, sorry."

"You seem a bit on edge. Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug. "It's nothing, really. Just got home from a date."

"Assuming it didn't go well?"

"It wasn't bad, it just- I don't know, it felt forced."

Eddie hummed, nodding lightly. "I hear ya. Tell y'what, take ten to get settled and let me clean up, then come over, we'll break out a couple of bottles and you can tell me all about it, yeah?"

"Sounds great," you agreed, and Eddie gave you a playful salute before sauntering back to his own driveway- which you may or may not have watched for a little too long.

Once you'd changed into more casual attire, you took the short walk down the street to Eddie's house. By this time, the sun was half set, and his garage had been shut, the only evidence that someone was home being the lights on in the kitchen.

"There you are. Was starting to worry," Eddie grinned at you as soon as the door swung open. You noted a flash of silver behind his teeth as his tongue swiped against his side teeth, and the tickling in your lower gut a moment later.

"Aw, you worry about me?"

“All the time, sweetheart,” the man flashed a grin, stepping aside to welcome you inside. "So, what's gotcha down?"

You heaved a groan, plopping onto his couch. "It's such a long story, I'm not even sure I have it in me to tell the whole thing. But he treated me like one of the guys. I mean, I want us to be friends too, but..." you clicked your tongue and sighed, words escaping you.

Meanwhile Eddie just watched you, arm slung over the back cushion across from you on the other side of the L of the couch. His beer bottle rested on his knee, balanced by his hand. "You wanted to be romanced."

"Yeah, I guess so. He didn't even make sure I got to my car safely."

Eddie's eyed widened, head cocking in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" When you shook your head no, he flung his hands in the air. "That's not even romantic! I do that for my friend's kids I drive around because I don't want them getting kidnapped!"

"I know, I know. That's not even the worst part."

Eddie scoffed. "What could possibly be worse?"

"Let's just say I know more about his bowel happenings than I would like to."

Eddie wrinkled his nose, sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, y'know princess, I get the feeling he's not your soulmate." He set his bottle down with a clink on the wood, running his hands up his thighs. "Man, even I could do better."

Something in your stomach turned over at the thought. Eddie seemed to notice your change in demeanor, however slight, and set his bottle down.

"Could you?"

Although it was after a few long, heavy seconds, the words escaped you faster than your brain could process them. Eddie's eyebrows twitched in something mixing amusement and bewilderment.

"I could," he mused. You swore that when he shifted his legs opened a little bit wider. "'Least your night wouldn't end complaining to a friend over a beer."

"Oh yeah? How would my night have ended?"

Eddie cocked a brow, lips curling.

You tilted your head to the side, eyeing him. Another long, heavy moment settled between you two, where you sat staring at one another.

Then your mouth moved of its own accord.

"Show me."

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie stood. sauntered over to where you sat. He watched you like a hawk, mischievous eyes captivating yours. A single, calloused hand reached out to your jaw, tilting it up a bit so that you were facing him. Eddie's mouth quirked up at the new sight.

"Y'want me to show you how your night should've ended, princess?" He crooned. You nodded dumbly, earning another chuckle. "Show you how you deserve to be treated, hm?"

Before you could give a response, Eddie's mouth was on yours, slow and deliberate and relaxed, seeming to simultaneously pull tension from your bones and set your skin on fire. Your fingers reached for his jacket, tugging him closer. Eddie gripped the couch back behind you to hold his weight, other hand coming to cup the back of your neck, slinking into your hair. His thumb rested on your pulse, smirking a little when he felt it racing.

"Pretty thing," he murmured in between hot kisses, "are you sure about this?"

"So sure, Eddie, please," you breathed, tugging his jacket off; the leather was cool to the touch, nice on your searing fingertips.

You could feel his mouth quirk up at your desperation. The hand that held the couch came down to your legs, lighting fire in their wake and finding the crook under your knee, tugging outwards. Heat brewed in your core at the implication- fueled even more so when Eddie pulled back with a grunt to tug his jacket away. Your eyes seemed to be locked in on his, somehow darker and lit with something primal. His kiss-bitten lips hung open in a lazy grin.

"C'mere, pretty." Eddie's hands grip your thighs with a searing mix of worship and need, pulling them apart and tugging you towards the end of the couch by the crooks under your knees. You let out a squeak, breaking quickly into a stifled hum of pleasure as his mouth found and made quick work of your neck, kissing and nipping and licking with that damn ball of metal down the front of your throat, hands splaying over your thighs appreciatively all the while.

"Eddie," your voice had risen into a near whine, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All thoughts were clouded with his storm- his breath fanning your jaw, warmth radiating onto your body, almost chest to chest, hands teasing dangerously high.

"Hm?"

"Please, please Eddie..." you weren't sure what you were asking for, really, you just knew you wanted more of him. However he would give himself to you you would gladly take.

"Please what? Y'know I'm all yours, honey, I'll give you everything you want and then some but I can't help you if I don't know what that is."

"More," you huffed, reaching for his wrists.

"More?" Eddie teased; the condescending lilt in his tone was overwhelmingly obvious, but in your frenzied state you only nodded limply. Your hand tugged at his, and he followed your lead as you dragged his hand towards your neck, pressing at the back of his hand to indicate what you wanted him to do.

"Oh? Princess likes choking, huh?" The excitement in Eddie's voice was hardly containable, but he managed to play it off cooler than how he really felt- like a dog who just heard dinner being poured into his bowl. "That is interesting."

Eddie's grip on your neck wasn't really that strong, but it made your head spin nonetheless, eliciting a weak, content noise from you.

"There we go, fuckin' love hearing that." Eddie gave a kiss to your cheek, his other hand occupied with sending shock waves down to your gut as his fingers walked up the back of your leg. "What else does princess want, hm?"

You only let out a whine, too engrossed with the building, unbearable heat in between your legs, which, at the sound of his nickname, twitched further open.

Lucky for you, Eddie picked up on that immediately. "Aw, sweet thing, shoulda told me." He tuts, moving both hands under you and rearranging the two of you so that your crotch was hovering over his thigh, other leg hooking onto yours so that you were spread open for him.

"Here we go honey, y'wanna use my leg, hm? Get yourself off?" His words were muffled by the skin of your shoulder.

Realistically you knew you wouldn't be able to orgasm from dry humping his thigh alone, but God you were so eager for friction you were willing to try. You whimpered an 'mhm', setting yourself down on his leg- even that small touch made you gasp. Eddie's hands reached for your ass, helping you grind down onto him, nearly knocking the breath out of you when the contact you so desperately craved turned into a wildfire of need.

"That's it, sweetheart, keep going. 'S'it feel good? Yeah?" He mimicked your whimper of response, proud grin never faltering, even as he nipped at your jaw. His hands, firm, surprisingly gentle for how rough and calloused they felt, traveled from your ass to your waist, fingertips slinking under the hem of your shirt.

"Can we take this off, princess? Want to see you, pretty please let me see you." His voice was low and sultry and had goosebumps rising on your back. You whined an 'mhm', the thought of what he was going to do when you were topless spurring you to pull it over your head yourself.

Once your chest was bared to him, Eddie's hands, trailing lightly enough to tickle, found your poor, sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing over them enough to make you jolt, gasping in surprise.

"Eddie, Eddie- fuck, more, need more, please," you cried, hand flying to his hair when his head dipped to lick over your chest. Whether it was to tug him away or keep him there, you didn't know.

"Aw, I know, you're just insatiable, aren't you?" Eddie gave you his best faux sympathetic voice, and for a minute you actually thought he might feel sorry for you, like it wasn't his plan all along to get you worked up like this.

Eddie's hands worked under your legs, pulling you closer to him before hoisting you up, stomping somewhere in the house you'd only visited a handful of times and never under this circumstance- his bedroom.

It was a dimly lit room, smelling faintly of weed, but you weren't given much time to take in the sights because Eddie plopped you down on his bed, immediately towering over you, caging you in with his arms. His curls tickled your face, then your neck when he moved there. A few sloppy kisses quickly turned heated again when his leg wedged itself between yours. You took the opportunity, however fleeting, to rut yourself against the material.

But this time Eddie gripped your hips, pinning you down. "Patience honey, I'm getting there." The glint of warning in his eyes had you nearly shaking in excitement. A glimmer inside of you wondered what he'd be like if you ignored his warnings.

Eddie slithered down, slowly, kissing his way down to your navel. You willed your hips to stay down, not to lean into his touch, but they did anyway. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back and fingers finding the pillow for something to weakly grip onto.

But a tap on your hipbone snapped them open, looking down at a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, hovering over your cunt. Knowing what he was asking, you responded with lifting your hips, making it easy for Eddie to slip your bottoms down Your phone nearly fell out of your back pocket from the force with which he flung them, as if he detested the fabric for its audacity to cover you up.

"Good, doing so good." Eddie gave your thighs a squeeze, smiling up at you with something a little kinder, more endearing than the smirk he'd donned the whole evening. With another squeeze, his head dipped down close to your clothed cunt. You swore you could hear him inhale, but your train of thought was halted when Eddie licked a fat stripe up the front of your underwear, sending shocks to your already hypersensitive clit.

"God- fuck!" You tried to clap a hand over your mouth, but Eddie tugged it away as quickly as it came.

"Y'doin' alright, princess? You seem a little tense." Eddie's teasing lilt came from somewhere under you, you could see the grin even through closed eyes. You opened them anyways. His smile was turned into something more playful, a glimpse of the boyish humor he always charmed you with. His head leaned against your thigh like a puppy, pouting up at you with false concern.

"Wonder fuckin' why," you gritted through your teeth, throwing your head back in exasperation.

"Easy tiger," Eddie chuckled, fingers pulling your underwear down- this time you definitely heard an inhale. You heard him mutter something along the lines of "saving these for later."

Eddie's fingers were quick to find you again, thumbs brushing over the joint between your thighs and your pussy, as if he thought the action was soothing and not setting you on fire.

You let out a strangled sound. "Eddie, I swear, if you don't fucking touch me-"

"You'll what?" Eddie's brow raised. His gaze alone made any snide remark die on your tongue.

As if on cue, your phone, long forgotten on the edge of your bed, lit up with an incoming call.

"Well?" Eddie prompted. You reached for the phone, seeing the absolute last name you cared to see illuminating the screen. You gulped, a tinge of guilt seeping in.

"Ah, I think I know who it is." Eddie chuckled, forehead knocking into your thigh as he made a poor attempt to hide his thorough amusement. "Well? Y'gonna answer it?"

You paused, made a face. You didn't even want to talk to him, really.

Eddie barked out a laugh at your reaction. "Shame. He could've learned a thing or two."

You giggled, but it quickly turned into a loud moan as Eddie's tongue, followed by that damn metal ball in the middle, began teasing circles over your clit. Somehow you were both infinitely relieved and worked up even more. Your phone was long forgotten, flung a little too far as, somewhere in the back of your brain, you heard it clatter on the wooden floor. Not that you could be brought to care, not with the way Eddie's tongue felt tracing your weeping hole.

"Fuck, all this for me? Sweet thing, if I knew how good this pretty pussy was sooner." You wondered momentarily what the end of that sentence was, but with his lips around your clit you weren't too worried. Ceaseless and electric his mouth was, bringing you slowly but surely towards that high you'd been chasing fervently for an hour now.

"Eddie, Eddie, I'm gonna- fuck! So good, Eddie, I'm gonna come, pleasepleaseplease-" You could barely understand yourself speak, so lost in your cloud of pleasure. But Eddie seemed to understand perfectly, cooing sweet praises into your cunt as he shook his head back and forth.

"Gonna cum, princess? Go on, you've earned it. Been so good, so patient f'me. Good, good, let go." He pulled both of your hands towards your lower stomach, interlacing them with his.

The noises you made as you unraveled under his marvelous touch were downright pornographic, downright sinful. One might be tempted to say you'd forgotten how to blush, but the heat in your cheeks would have shot down the theory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, pulling pure electric heat from your sex as you writhed and shivered from Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

But when the pleasure subsided into jolts, Eddie didn't stop. His tongue continued tracing your clit languidly, and- oh- a new sensation at your core had you squeezing his hands.

"Eddie, ohmygod-" Quickly you realized what he was doing, one finger prodding around your entrance before sinking into your embarrassingly wet cunt, which welcomed him. Your back arched when his finger curled, a guttural sound ripping from your throat as he pushed deeper, searching for that spot, the one that would ensure a noise complaint from a few neighbors.

"Shh, you're okay, you're doing so well, hm? So well, yeah, relax- just like that." Eddie hummed, another finger joining the first and a high-pitched moan from you following shortly after.

And then he found it. That damn spot deep in your gut, and he bullied it with his fingertips over and over and over again.

"Eddie!" His name fell from your mouth like a hymn, moans almost swallowed by the pillow you tugged to cover your face when the brief thought of the neighbors made you a slight bit guilty. Your second orgasm of the night was coming at you full steam ahead, much easier to find from your oversensitivity as well as the new sensation that joined his thumb swiping over your clit.

"That's it, princess, give me another. G'na get you nice and ready, yeah?" Ready for what, you had an idea that sparked, if possible, even more delicious heat in between your legs.

You were animalistic at this point, nearly screaming for him to make you come again. You almost sobbed when his fingers pulled out from you, hands reaching weakly for him.

"Easy, easy, I know. Gonna make it worth your wait, mm? You want my cock, sweet thing?"

Your mouth salivated at the mention, and you immediately propped up onto your elbows to watch him line himself up with you.

"Please, Eddie, please," you sighed, head lolling back.

And there it was, that delicious stretch that had your mind reeling and fingernails digging into Eddie's inked shoulders.

"Oh, oh oh, so good, so good, Eddie, right there!"

Your hands were grabbing for every bit of him you could find. Tugging his hair, scratching down his back, pulling his neck down into a searing, heavy-breath kiss.

"Fuck, princess, keep clenching and I won't last." Eddie grunted into your mouth. His hand, previously pressing onto your lower stomach, pulled your legs so that your ankles rested over his shoulders, bending down a little so that he could move deeper, and did it have you seeing stars.

"Keep- ah- keep going, please, 'm gonna cum, gonna- Eddie!"

Your cunt convulsed around Eddie's cock, throbbing inside of you as you felt white-hot release wash over you. You sobbed into Eddie's pillow, chanting his name as he overwhelmed you with praise. Eddie fucked you through it as best he could, but you could feel he was slowing down, spurts of wet heat in your gut moments later.

"Oh, baby... didn't know you could do that." Eddie was grinning like an idiot, incredulous grin staring down at his thighs. Dizzy, you looked down where he was staring like he just won the lottery.

His thighs were splattered with what you could only guess was your own arousal, even a few drops on his stomach.

"Oh my god," you flopped your head back, hand covering your eyes and trying to cover your embarrassed smile.

"Hey, that was hot." Eddie pulled your hand away, giving you that same sweet smile, squeezing your thigh before pulling himself out. You winced at the feeling, guilt following as you realized his sheets were definitely soiled.

You let out a long exhale, mind still racing. Eddie, having tucked himself into a new pair of pants, watched you. When he concludes you've had a moment to sit and think, he strokes your arm.

"Hey, cutie. You alright there?"

"Uh huh."

Eddie chuckled at the stupid smile you're sure you wore. "C'mon, gotta get you cleaned up."

"Yeah- sorry about your sheets."

Eddie pursed his lips, shrugged. "It was worth it, don't you think?" You attempted to stand, but Eddie held up a hand. "Allow me."

Eddie carried you into his bathroom, seating you carefully onto the toilet before excusing himself. He came back a moment later with your phone, wet wipes, and a glass of water.

You and Eddie fell into more casual conversation- the latter participant heavy on the cocky jokes- it was comforting. He'd offered you to stay the night; not like you hadn't conked out on his couch before anyways.

Brushing your teeth with your finger, you tapped your phone to check the time- and almost knocked it from the sink.

"FUCK." You nearly sprayed toothpaste foam all over Eddie's mirror, holding the phone inches from your face in case your vision had somehow failed you the first time.

"What, what what??" Eddie shouted from the shower, a bottle clattering on the tile shortly after.

You spat your foam out, coughing. You pulled the curtain open enough to push your phone into the shower to show him the time and name of your most recent call.

A pfft noise followed by loud cackling echoed off the tiles. "Oh shit! Y'think he got a show too, sure it wasn't FaceTime?"

Meanwhile you sunk your head into your hands in utter mortification.

Although a tiny part of you was laughing too.

~