#cleaned the tablecloth and his blanket

[mer-se]

my boy

[x0xomady]

gold rush

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

pt.2 - ☁️

(harry styles x female reader)

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, NONCON, housewife kink, corruption kink, spit kink, humiliation, misogynistic themes, cheating (not on y/n), manipulation, no aftercare, harry is an asshole, p in v, oral m recieving, degrading behavior, unprotected sex, it’s just nasty. (all characters are 18+)

summary: during the 1850’s, families moved out to california for the gold rush. it just so happens that harry’s family moved out to the same town as yours. or, an older man cheats on his wife and corrupts the innnocent girl living next door.

a/n: okay this is based on THIS request. read the warnings first, if this isn’t your thing, IGNORE IT.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"y/n." my mother's voice echoed through our small wooden house. "come and get washed up for dinner!"

i was so deep in my book that i nearly missed her calling my name. “what?" i said, snapping out of my reverie.

my mother appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips, looking at me with an exasperated expression. “stop reading and get cleaned up. we're having guests over tonight for dinner, and i need you to look presentable.”

i nod as i mark the page and set my book aside. i knew how important manners and appearances were to my mother, especially when we had guests over for dinner.

“who are the guests?”

my mother raised an eyebrow at my question, as if surprised i even had to ask. "the new couple that just moved into the old cabin down the road. they just had a newborn, and your father asked them to come over for dinner."

i nod as a feeling of dread creeps over me. it wasn't the first time we had hosted newcomers to the settlement, but the idea of having to be on my best behavior in front of strangers was always nerve-wracking.

“okay, i’ll go get ready." i say as i make my way to the washroom.

𖥔 2 hours later 𖥔

the dining room is filled with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat, which we only eat on special occasions, and potatoes. the flickering flames of the oil lamps dimly illuminate the room, casting a warm glow over everything.

mother is bustling about, making sure everything is just so. the table is set to perfection, with a white lace tablecloth draped across it and sets of our best porcelain plates set atop it.

my father, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a perpetually serious expression, sits in his usual spot at the head of the table. he looks up as i walk into the room, and gives me a slight nod of approval. at that, i take my place at the table, my stomach churning with nerves. being an introvert is all fine until you have to meet new people.

a knock on the door signals the arrival of our guests, and my heart begins to race. i straighten my dress and take a deep breath, trying to compose myself as my mother goes to answer the door.

the sound of our guests' voices and footsteps echo through the house, making my chest feel tight. my mother leads them into the dining room, smiling widely with her best hospitality. as the guests enter the room, i lift my gaze and look at them for the first time.

.“y/n, this is mrs. styles, and her new baby elijah.” my mother motions towards mrs. styles. she is a very attractive looking woman, with long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. i smile politely and stand up from the table to greet her.

“it's lovely to meet you, mrs. styles," i say softly with a smile. i notice baby elijah, who is sleeping soundly in his mother's arms for the first time, swaddled in a blanket. “you have a very cute baby.”

mrs. styles smiles warmly as she looks down at her sleeping baby. "thank you. he's only a few weeks old, but we already adore him so much."

my mother offers to take the baby, and mrs. styles hands him over to her, revealing the man standing behind her for the first time.

“oh yes, and this is mr. styles.” my mother introduces me to him quickly before carrying the baby over to the table and starting a light conversation with mrs. styles.

he is a tall, well-built man with a handsome face, green eyes, and thick brown hair. he is at least 10 years older than me, but at least 10 years younger than my father.

he looks over the room, his gaze finally landing upon me. i quickly drop my eyes and sit back down, feeling my cheeks flush. i can feel his eyes on me, and i'm not quite sure how to react.

suddenly, mother motions him over to the table, and he takes the seat next to my father.

as everyone sits down, my stomach begins to churn even more nervously. i glance at mr. styles every now and then, feeling his eyes on me.

conversation flows around the table, with my mother and mrs. styles talking about the baby. mr. styles and my father discuss work and the town.

the meal progresses, but I am not able to focus on my food. my mind keeps wandering to mr. styles, and i can't help but steal glances at him throughout the dinner.

he seems to notice my glances, and his piercing green eyes keep flicking towards me, making my heart race.

the meal is generally mild with small talk shared between my parents and the new couple.

“y/n honey, would you please take elijah out for a little while? mrs styles would probably like some time to eat.”

my mother gives me a “listen. now.” look and motions for me to take the baby. i nod and stand up from the table, taking elijah from his mothers arms.

“thank you darling, that’s so sweet of you.” mrs styles smiles and squeezes my hand as i take the baby from her and walk him out of the dining room.

once out of the dining room, I make my way to the back porch, walking slowly so as not to wake the baby. the night air is cool and refreshing as i sit down on the small wood bench my father had built for the porch.

I cradle the baby in my arms and look down at him, admiring his tiny, peaceful face. The only sound is the soft crackling of the fire from inside the house, and the occasional chirping of cicadas in the trees.

“you’re a very sweet baby.” i hum and look down at his soft little face.

as i sit there, slowly rocking and cooing at the baby, i hear footsteps behind me. i turn my head to see mr. styles walking out onto the porch, his green eyes meeting mine.

mr. styles leans against the porch and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a quick flick of his lighter. he takes a long drag, and lets out a plume of smoke into the night air.

he studies me for a moment, his eyes locking with mine before he speaks.

"you seem to have a way with children. he's sleeping soundly.” he motions to the baby in my arms, and I look back down at Elijah, who is indeed still asleep, his little chest rising and falling gently.

"i suppose i do," i replies softly, looking back up at mr. styles.

he takes another hit from his cigarette, the smoke swirling in the air around him as he gazes at me intently.

“hm. you’re a lot better with him then i. when the wife had him i couldn’t even hold him.” he hums and leans against the post, watching me soothe elijah.

i smile softly, watching the baby's eyelashes flutter as he sleeps. "it takes a lot of patience."

mr. styles nods as he takes another drag from his cigarette. "im not exactly the most patient person."

just then the door to the house opens again. my mother and mrs. styles step out the door.

“it was so lovely to have you two over, it’ll be great to have you in the town.” my mother smiles and hands mrs. styles a basket of baked goods she made to welcome them to the area.

mrs. styles takes the basket, smiling warmly at my mother. “thank you so much for hosting us. we really appreciate warm welcome.”

i hand the tightly swaddled baby back to mrs. styles and bid my goodbyes to elijah.

mr. styles snuffs out his cigarette and steps towards the two women, his gaze flickering to me once more before returning to my mother.

"thanks for dinner ma'am." he says to my mother with a charming smile.

my mother smiles warmly and pats him on the shoulder. "it was our pleasure."

mrs. styles thanks my mother again and turns to me.

“you know y/n, if you’re ever free i would love to have you over. you were so sweet with elijah i really appreciate it.”

i’m slightly taken aback by mrs. styles’ offer, pleasantly surprised. “of course, i would love to come by sometime.”

mrs. styles smiles and squeezes my hand once more before turning to my mother. “we best get going. it’s getting late.”

“of course, safe travels home.” my mother nods.

mrs. styles bids us goodbye and she and mr. styles walk down the path, disappearing into the night.

my mother turns to me with a satisfied smile on her face. “i think that went well.”

i nod, still feeling a little bit of butterflies from mr. styles' gaze. my mother smiles and pats my back.

“cmon dear, let’s get inside and wash up.”

𖥔 3 weeks later 𖥔

it's a warm bright day, as it usually is in early july. i walk down the dust path into the town center. there isn’t much in our small town, but we do have the necessities.

i continue past the main square, and make my way down the road towards the ranches on the south of the town. my white summer dress glides across the dirt road as i walk.

a few ranch houses are nestled among the trees, and there are pens full of livestock next to some. i come up to mrs. styles' house, and take a deep breath before walking up to the familiar front door.

since meeting the family weeks ago, i’ve had the opportunity to spend time with mrs. styles and occasionally watch elijah for her.

i knock on the door and wait for a response. after a moment, i hear shuffling from inside, and the door swings open to reveal mrs. styles, holding elijah in her arms.

“y/n! so nice to see you, come inside honey.” she smiles widely and opens the door further, motioning for me to come in.

i return mrs. styles' smile, and enter the house. it's a modest house, but cosy. the living room is filled with natural light as the windows on all sides are open, letting in a warm summer breeze.

“thank you so much again for agreeing to watch elijah. i would have harry watch him, but you know how men are.” she smiles and hands elijah to me.

i take the baby from her, immediately cradling him against my chest. he looks up at me with wide eyes, and i smile down at him.

"of course, i don't mind at all."

she nods and squeezes my shoulder lightly. “thank you again, honey. i’ll be back in a few hours, you’re welcome to the lemonade i made.”

i nod at mrs. styles as she grabs a small basket of laundry from a nearby chair, and heads out of the house. the sound of the door shutting echoes through the small house, and i walk over to the nearby couch and sit down.

elijah is quiet in my arms, and slowly begins to drift off to sleep.

i sit there for a few minutes, the baby’s soft breathing the only thing to break the comfortable silence. i gently rock him in my arms, watching as his eyelashes flutter against his soft cheeks, while he sleeps. the afternoon sunlight pours through the windows, warm and soft against my skin.

mr. styles shuts the door behind him and takes a step further into the house, not noticing me right away.

he is wearing a simple cotton shirt and tan brown pants with a hat perched atop his head. dust follows each step as his boots move across the wood floor. he turns to me, his green eyes quickly find my own in surprise.

“what are you doing here?” his deep voice rumbles through the air, filling the room. i shift uncomfortably on the couch, still holding the baby close to my chest.

i can feel my cheeks flush under his intense gaze. “mrs. styles asked me to watch elijah for her while she does some laundry and runs some errands.” i look down at the sleeping baby in my arms, my heart racing.

mr. styles walks closer to me, his footsteps loud against the wooden floor. he comes to a stop in front of me, his tall figure looming over me.

he doesn't say anything, and for a few moments he just stands there, studying me. i can feel his eyes on me, and my heart starts to pound against my chest.

“well alright then…” he nods and takes his hat off, placing it atop the coat rack.

he stands there momentarily before walking over to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water. he takes a few sips before turning back to me, leaning against the kitchen counter.

i assume by his rugged appearance that mr. styles had just finished his work for the day. my mother has told me that he is a cattle rancher, and works on their ranch for hours a day.

my eyes stay on the baby cradled in my arms, keenly aware of mr. styles' gaze on me. he sets his glass down and walks closer, stopping about a foot away from me. he glances at the baby, who is currently sleeping against my chest.

“he’s out like a light. you can go set him down in the crib.” he nods towards the wooden crib on the side of the room.

i nod, and slowly stand. i walk over to the crib and gently lay the sleeping baby down. he shifts slightly, but soon relaxes back into a deep sleep. i look down at him, watching his delicate little face as he breathes slowly.

i turn around to find mr. styles still watching me with a serious expression on his face. his arms are crossed, and his green eyes are intense.

"you're a shy thing, aren't you?" he asks, his voice low and gruff.

i feel my cheeks heat up, and i look down at the dusty hem of my dress. “yeah, i guess so," i nod.

mr. styles nods, and takes a step closer to me. “hm… this is a pretty small town, aint it? must not be a lot of others around your age.”

i nod, still looking down at my dress. “yeah, it is pretty small. i don’t know many people my age.”

he hums and looks down at me for a second. my body freezes up when i feel his rough hands grab my jaw lightly. he tilts my head up so i’m looking at him.

“well you’re definitely a pretty thing.” he says looking down at me.

i can feel my cheeks flush even more at his words. i look away, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“thank you…” i mumble, feeling my heart race in my chest.

“you don’t have to be so nervous around me, i don’t bite.” he says roughly. i nod, my cheeks still flushed.

“i know, i just…” i trail off, looking away from him. he hums and nods, letting go of my chin.

"uh… is there anything else i can help you with?" i ask quickly, trying to change the topic.

mr. styles looks at me for a moment before nodding. he holds his hand up and motions for me to walk over to him.

“maybe there is… c'mere darling.”

i hesitate for a moment, unsure of what he wants me to do. i look down at my hands, which are still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. i take a deep breath and slowly walk over to him, stopping just in front of him.

mr. styles looks up at me, his green eyes intense. he leans back against the sofa and lets his legs open comfortably. he looks at me for a second, his eyes trailing over me. i can feel my heart pounding in my chest as he studies me.

"you know," he speaks, his voice low and rough. "ever since my wife had the baby, i've been feeling less and less satisfied."

i listen as he speaks. i'm not sure what he means, but his words make me feel uneasy. i look down at my hands, trying to avoid his gaze.

"i don't understand, sir," i say, my voice barely above a whisper.

he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that makes me slightly uneasy. "i'm not surprised, darling. you're young and naive."

i feel my cheeks burn at his words. i'm not sure what he's getting at, but i know it's not appropriate. i take a step back, trying to put some distance between us.

"uh- maybe we should just wait until mrs. styles gets home-" i say nervously, trying to deflect the tension that's building in the room.

mr. styles raises an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving mine. "oh, i think we can handle things just fine without her," he says, his voice dripping with an unsettling confidence. he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes locked on mine.

i take another step back, trying to put even more distance between us. "i-i don't think that's appropriate, sir," i stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

he hums again, his eyes never leaving mine. “oh, relax, darling," he says. he holds his hand out and motions for me to step closer to him. “i know what i’m doing, and i know how much you like to help, you’re a sweet girl.”

i hesitate, unsure of what to do.. mr. styles' gaze is fixed on me, and i can feel his intensity like a palpable force.

i nod and carefully step forward again so i’m standing just in front of him. he smiles a little and reaches up to take a hold of my hips, pulling me to stand between his legs.

l my heart pounds in my chest as he looks up at me, his gaze intense. he leans forward, his breath hot against my neck as he whispers, “hm, you’re a good girl, aren't you?"

i swallow hard, my throat dry, and i nod hesitantly.

he hums in approval and leans back against the sofa, his hands still on my hips. "good," he says, his voice low. "now, i want you to help me with something."

his fingers tighten around my hips, and i can feel his thumbs digging into my skin. i try to take a step back, but his grip is firm.

"w-what is it, sir?" i stammer, trying to hide the blush creeping up my face. mr. styles' gaze never wavers, his eyes fixed on mine with an unnerving intensity.

"i want you to help me…relax," he says, with an innocent look on his face.

“you know, i wouldn’t normally ask you, as this is my wife’s job,” he sighs and looks up at me. “but, she is just so exhausted with the baby…”

i try to nod sympathetically, but my mind is racing with alarm bells. this is not right. men aren’t supposed to touch me this way- especially since i’m not married.

mr. styles' hands tighten around my hips, and i feel a jolt of fear. i try to take a step back, but his grip is firm. he's not letting me go.

“…how can i help?" i mumble nervously, looking up to meet his eyes.

mr. styles smirks, his grip on my hips tightening. "can you kneel on the floor for me, darling?"

i hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. i know this is wrong, but i can't seem to find the words to refuse him. i slowly lower myself to my knees, my eyes never leaving his.

mr. styles hums in approval, his hands moving from my hips to cup my jaw as he watches me.

i feel the nerves run through me as his thumb brushes against my bottom lip. "good girl," he murmurs and looks down at me.

my heart races in my chest as i look up at him, my eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

mr. styles traces my lips with his thumb as he speaks, "i want you to take care of me, darling. can you do that for me?"

i swallow hard, my throat dry as i nod my head. “h-how?”

“it’s alright," he whispers. "i'll show you." his hands move from my jaw to his pants, his fingers quickly unbuttoning the top of them.

my eyes widen in shock and fear as he does this. i shake my head and try to get up from the floor. “no- mr. styles this is very inappropriate”

mr. styles shakes his head. “oh, darling, there’s nothing wrong in helping a friend. you don’t want my wife to tire out, do you?.”

“i don’t know if this is right.” i look at him nervously and try to pull away.

“oh but you’re so sweet,” he hums and traces my jaw with his thumb. “just try sweetheart, can you try?”

i hesitate, looking into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. i feel a mixture of fear and confusion, unsure of what to do. i take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and nod my head.

mr. styles smiles, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. “good girl,” he murmurs. he pulls me closer to him, his legs spreading wider to accommodate me.

his hands reach down into his trousers as he pulls out his length. my eyes widen in shock, and my face instantly flushes in shame. i try to look away, but he grabs my jaw and turns be back to him.

he spits into his hand and strokes himself slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. i try to speak, to tell him to stop, but my voice is caught in my throat. my mind is racing, trying to process what is happening, but i'm frozen in place, unable to move or speak.

"give me your hand, y/n" he says, holding out his hand expectantly. i hesitate, unsure of what to do, but his gaze is intense, as if daring me to refuse. my heart racing, i slowly reach out, my hand trembling as i place it in his.

mr. styles' fingers wrap around mine, his grip firm as he guides my hand towards him. i try to pull back, but he holds tight, his eyes never leaving mine. my face flushes even more as i realize what he wants me to do. i try to shake my head, to tell him no, but my voice is still caught in my throat.

"come on, darling," he says. "just a little help."

he moves my hand and puts it around his length, his own hand wrapping around mine to keep it in place.

mr. styles lets out a low groan, his eyes closing as he leans back against the wall. "that's it, darling," he murmurs. “move it up and down- just like that.”

i feel a surge of shame and embarrassment as i'm forced to comply, my hand moving slowly along his length. he tugs my hand along his cock, guiding me into a slow, rhythmic motion.

his pupils are dilated, and his breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling with each stroke. i can feel my heart racing, pounding in my chest like a drum, as i struggle to process what's happening.

"oh fuck," he groans out. "such a good girl."

his grip tightens around my hand, his fingers digging into my skin as he guides me into a faster rhythm. i can feel him growing harder in my hand, his length pulsing with each stroke.

"you like helping, don't you?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

my face flushes with embarrassment. “i- i don’t know," i say, my voice barely above a whisper.

he hums, his grip tightening around my hand. “do you want to help me relax even more?”

i hesitate, unsure of what he means. i can feel my heart racing, my face flushed with embarrassment. “h-how?”

mr. styles sees my hesitation and smirks. “oh, darling, don't worry. i'll show you.” he leans back against the couch, watching me with a blissed expression on his face. “can you to take me in your mouth? oh, I know you can darling, you’re such a good listener.”

my heart is racing, pounding in my chest like a drum, as i struggle to process what's happening. i feel a surge of shame and embarrassment, my face flushing with heat. i try to shake my head, to tell him no, but my voice is still caught in my throat.

mr. styles' grip tightens around my hand, his fingers digging into my skin as he guides me into a faster rhythm. i can feel his length pulsing with each stroke.

“yes, be a good girl and wrap your lips around the tip for me, darling.” he moves his hand away from my own and puts his hand against the back of my head. he gently nudges me forward to take him in my mouth.

my nose crinkles up in slight disgust at the thought of doing it, but i don’t want to do anything wrong. what if he’s right? what if mrs. styles really does need me to help? she’s such a sweet lady, i wouldn’t want her to tire out… especially since she just had a child…

i hesitate for a moment, but mr. styles' grip on my head tightens, and he guides me closer to him. i can feel his length pulsing in my hand, and i know that i have no choice but to comply.

i take a deep breath and slowly lean forward, my lips parting as i take the tip of his cock into my mouth.

his thick length pulses against my tongue, and i try to focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the shame and embarrassment that washes over me.

mr. styles lets out a low groan, his grip tightening around my head as he guides me further onto him. "oh, darling," he murmurs, his voice raspy. "you're doing so well, can you suck the tip for me?"

i hesitate for a moment, my mind racing with thoughts of what i'm doing and the sins i’m committing. i try to think of mrs. styles, of how she needs me to help, but my conscience is screaming at me to stop.

hesitantly i tighten my lips around the head of his cock and suck it into my mouth. mr. styles' eyes flutter closed, his chest rising and falling with each stroke. his fingers dig deeper into my scalp, holding me in place as he begins to rock his hips gently.

"oh, yes," he groans in pleasure, his hips buck up desperately. "just like that, darling. you're perfect."

mr. styles' grip tightens around my head, his fingers digging into my scalp as he guides me further onto him. i try to pull back, to take a breath, but he holds me in place, his grip firm.

"good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "open up that throat for me, just relax." my eyes fill up with tears, and i gag as his cock hits the back of my throat.

mr. styles' grip tightens around my head, his fingers digging deeper into my scalp as he holds me in place. i try to pull back, but he's too strong.

"relax, darling," he whispers. "you're doing so well. just a little more."

i try to nod, but my head is locked in place by his grip. suddenly, he pushes me down further, and i feel his cock hit the back of my throat again.

tears stream down my face as i gag, my body involuntarily trying to expel the intrusion. mr. styles' fingers dig deeper into my scalp, holding me firm as he begins to rock his hips in a slow rhythm.

before i can register what’s happening, mr. styles grabs the back of my head and pulls me off his cock unexpectadely.

“i’m sorry sweetheart, was that too much?” he hums and presses a kiss to my forehead. the sweet gesture was a complete change from the harsh movements he did just moments before.

i gasp for air, my chest heaving as i try to catch my breath.

“you did so well, darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “i’m so proud of you.”

i nod weakly, my throat still sore from the intrusion.

mr. styles smiles at me, his eyes soft and gentle. "come here,"

he picks me up and places me on his lap so i'm straddling his legs. I can feel his cock pressing against my stomach, and I try to ignore the complete embarrassment I feel. everything that just happened goes against everything my mother and father taught me.

mr. styles leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear. “are you alright?" he tilts his head and looks at me with a soft expression.

“i’m okay…” i nod weakly, unable to speak much after the sharp pain. mr. styles' eyes lock onto mine, his gaze piercing as he inspects me.

"you're doing great, darling," he whispers, his voice low and husky. "i know it's a lot to take in, but you're doing so well." his words are laced with a soothing tone, but they only make me feel more ashamed. “you’re being so helpful.”

“hm… is your poor throat all swollen? i’m sorry sweetheart.” he hums and presses a kiss to the side of my neck. “you know what? i think i have something that’ll make you feel better.”

i hesitate for a moment, looking up at him with glassy eyes. maybe he didn’t mean to hurt me…

“okay…” i whisper. he leans forward, his lips brushing against my ear once more.

“i knew you would be a good girl,” he murmurs.

he reaches down and picks me up, laying me down on the sofa. i feel a rush of fear as he moves to sit between my legs. my eyes widen at the vulnerable position, and i instantly shut my legs, trying to protect myself from his prying eyes. he’s not my husband, and i shouldn’t be in this position with him.

mr. styles' eyes sparkle with amusement as he gently pries my legs open, his hands warm against my skin. i try to resist, but he's too strong, and soon my legs are splayed open, exposing me to his gaze.

"shh be good f'me. i need your help, remember sweetheart?" he hums and pushes my thighs apart completely. his eyes darken when his gaze reaches my core.

i feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me as he takes in every detail of my body. his gaze lingers on the most intimate parts of me, and i can feel my face burning with shame. i try to close my legs again, but he holds them firm, his grip gentle yet unyielding.

"no, no, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "we're not done yet. we need to take care of you."

his eyes linger on the most intimate parts of me, and i can feel my face burning with shame.

"so fucking pretty," he groans at the sight of my cunt that's now completely exposed to him. "nobody's touched you here before, have they?"

i try to shake my head, but it feels like it's stuck in place. mr. styles' eyes sparkle with excitement as he takes in every detail of my body.

his rough calloused hands run down my thighs and meet at my core. mr. styles smirks and traces his thumb along my cunt.

"hm... what about you sweetheart? have you ever played with yourself before?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

i shake my head, my face burning with embarrassment. i've never even touched myself there before, let alone let someone else do it. “n-no! of course not, that’s wrong.”

mr. styles smirks, his eyes glinting with amusement. “good. this is just f’me to touch, you understand?” he moves his eyes away from the spot between my legs to meet my eyes. i nod hesitantly, unsure of what i'm agreeing to, but too scared to say no.

his gaze holds mine for a moment, then drops back down to the spot between my legs. his fingers hover over my core, and i can feel my heart racing in my chest. i try to close my legs again, but he holds them firm, his grip gentle yet unyielding.

i take a deep breath and try to relax, but my body remains tense. mr. styles' eyes never leave my face as he gently pushes my jaw open with his hand. he then slides two of his fingers into my mouth, and i can taste the salty tang of his skin.

“get them nice and wet, darling,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. i hesitate for a moment before i begin to suck on his fingers, coating them in saliva.

mr. styles' eyes sparkle with amusement as he watches me, his gaze never leaving my face. i try to focus on the task at hand, but my mind keeps wandering back to the uncomfortable position i'm in.

suddenly, he pushes his fingers back, hitting the back of my throat, and i gag. the feeling is overwhelming, and i try to pull away, but he holds his fingers firm. mr. styles smirks and pulls his fingers out.

“oh, i'm sorry sweetheart, that was mean of me,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "we’re going to have to work on that gagging of yours later, aren’t we?”

he moves his hand away from my mouth to my core. he runs his middle and ring finger teasingly along my slit, nudging my clit for a second. my eyes widen at the sensation, and i sit up. “what- what was that?”

mr. styles smirks, his eyes never leaving mine. “that, my dear, is what it feels like to be touched by a man.” he continues to tease my clit, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles.

i gasp, my body trembling beneath his touch. it feels weird but not bad. it doesn’t hurt like it did before. he presses tight circles against my clit. his gaze is focused on the scene before him.

his fingers dance across my skin, sending shivers down my spine. i try to process what's happening, but my mind is a jumbled mess. i feel exposed and vulnerable, yet somehow, i'm drawn to the sensation. my body begins to respond, my hips subtly rocking against his fingers.

"ah… there we go. you like that?" he chuckles and presses his thumb against my bundle of nerves. i gasp, my body tensing up as a wave of pleasure washes over me. my face flushes with embarrassment, and i look away from his eyes

i can feel my heart racing in my chest as he continues to touch me. his fingers move in slow, deliberate circles. i can feel myself growing wetter, and i'm both embarrassed and confused by my body's reaction.

mr. styles leans in closer, his breath hot against my skin. "you're so beautiful when you're like this," he murmurs, his voice low. "so innocent and pure.”

he holds out his hand to my mouth again and nods his head to it. “spit.”

i hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. but mr. styles' gaze holds mine, his eyes glinting with amusement. i can feel my face burning with embarrassment as i slowly part my lips and let my saliva fall onto his palm.

he smirks, his eyes never leaving mine, as he brings his fingers back down to my core. mr. styles' fingers slide back into my slit, and he begins to tease my clit once more.

i gasp, my body trembling beneath his touch. his gaze holds mine, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watches me struggle to process the sensations coursing through my body.

"take a deep breath, darling," he says before i feel one of his thick fingers push past my tight entrance. i tense up, my body protesting the intrusion, but mr. styles' grip on my thighs remains firm. his finger slides in deeper, and i can feel my walls clenching around it.

"oh, you're so tight," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "i can barely fit a finger." his eyes never leave mine as he begins to move his finger in slow strokes.

"relax, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin. "let me show you how good it can feel." his finger push deeper, and i can feel my core tighten beneath his touch.

mr. styles' eyes stay glued to mine as he watches my body react. my body begins responding, my hips subtly rocking against his hand. the sensation is strange, yet somehow, i find myself craving more.

"that's it, darling,” he hums and uses his free hand to rub my hip softly. “stop resisting."

i gasp as he adds a second finger, my body stretching to accommodate him. my heart races in my chest as he moves his fingers up to his knuckles.

"oh, you're so tight," he groans, his eyes never leaving mine. “i should’ve fucked a virgin a long time ago.”

his words make my face flush with embarassment as he continues to move his fingers inside me. my body responds to his touch despite my mind's protests.

mr. styles' fingers push in and out of me, his movements slow and calculated. i can feel my walls clenching around him, trying to accommodate his thick fingers.

suddenly, he stops moving his fingers, leaving them deep inside me. i feel a pang of disappointment, my body craving more of the strange sensation.

he chuckles and pulls his fingers out to hold my thighs open again. “don’t you worry, darling. i have something that’ll be a lot better.”

his eyes glint with amusement as he moves one of his hands to hold the base of his cock, moving to press the tip of it against my clit teasingly. i gasp, my hips bucking up at the sudden contact. his cock is warm and smooth, compared to the rough cold skin of his fingers.

"oh, you're so sensitive," he murmurs. "i love it." his eyes never leave mine as he continues to tease me, his cock brushing against my clit with every movement.

i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. my body is screaming for more, but my mind is still reeling from how wrong this feels. i shouldn’t be doing this when i’m not married- let alone with a married man!

“mr. styles-” i'm cut off by him pressing the head of his length to my entrance.

"shh, no more mr. styles. when i touch you like this you be respectful and call me daddy, alright?" he says roughly and squeezes my hip.

my eyes widen in shock, and i feel my face flush with embarrassment when i hear that. i shake my head, my mind reeling from the demand.

"what?" i manage to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper.

mr. styles' grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin. "you heard me, darling," he says, his eyes sharp as he watches me. "when we're like this, you call me daddy. it's only respectful."

i feel a surge of defiance rise up within me, but it's quickly quashed by the sensation of his cock still pressed teasingly against my entrance.

mr. styles' grip on my hip tightens, his fingers digging into my skin as he speaks. "say, yes daddy, or else i'm going to have to tell your mother and father what a disrespectful brat you are." he says roughly.

my eyes widen in shock, and i feel my face flush with embarrassment at the threat. i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. mr. styles' eyes narrow, his gaze piercing as he waits for my response.

"yes…daddy," i stammer, the words feeling foreign and inappropriate on my lips.

"see? good girl," he nods at my words and holds the base of his cock again, lining it up with my cunt. "deep breath for me…"

i feel my body tense up, my heart racing in my chest as i try to process what's happening. his cock is warm and smooth, but it's also thick and intimidating. i can feel my walls stretching to accommodate him, a burning sensation spreading through my core.

"relax, darling," he whispers, his breath hot against my skin.

his cock inches inside of me, and i can feel my walls stretching to accommodate him. "oh fuck-"

he groans out and closes his eyes for a second as he inches inside of me. his eyes snap back open, and he gazes at me, his pupils dilated with desire.

he pauses for a moment, his cock lodged halfway inside me. i can feel my body trembling beneath him, my heart racing in my chest.

"you're so tight," he moans and presses squeezes my hips tightly, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me in place. "i can barely fit."

i try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. "mr. styles-" he cuts me off by giving a light slap to my thigh.

"no. what do you call me?" he demands, his eyes flashing with a mixture of desire and authority. i feel a surge of embarrassment wash over me, but i swallow it back and meet his eyes.

"daddy," i mumble, my voice barely audible.

"good girl," he murmurs. mr. styles' grip on my hips loosens slightly, and he nods in approval. he inches his cock further inside me, and i feel my walls stretching to accommodate him. the burning sensation intensifies, and i let out a gasp of pain and growing pleasure.

mr. styles' eyes never leave mine as he slowly thrusts his cock to the hilt, his hips pressing against mine.

my body trembles beneath him, my heart racing in my chest. the burning sensation intensifies, and i let out a gasp of pain and growing pleasure.

"oh shit-" he groans, his voice low and husky, "i won't last long with how fucking tight you are." he slowly drags his cock out so just the tip is inside, and for a moment, i feel a sense of relief wash over me. but without giving me much time to recover, he starts pushing in again, his cock sliding deeper into me.

the burning sensation intensifying as he buries himself inside me. mr. styles' eyes never leave mine as he starts to thrust, his hips moving in calculated strokes. i can feel his cock pulsing inside me, and i try to push back against him, but he holds me in place, his grip on my hips like a vice.

"daddy," i stammer, the word feeling foreign and wrong on my lips, but he seems to like it, his eyes flashing with desire as he hears it. he starts to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent, and i can feel my body responding, my pleasure building despite the initial pain.

“see? it can feel so good if you stop resisting," he pants out in pleasure and continues moving his cock inside me. his words are laced with a mixture of desire and authority.

“so fucking young and pretty…” he mutters under his breath. his hips continue snapping up to meet mine, our arousal and the humidity of a hot summers day leave the skin between us sticky.

mr. styles groans and closes his eyes in pleasure as he thrusts his thick cock as deep as he can. my hips slowly move against his in a desperate search for any pleasure.

despite the rough and painful start, pleasure begins filling my body and i’m left reaching for the sensations he gave me previously.

he notices my frustrated expression and smirks for a second. “oh i’m sorry darlin, can’t leave ya hanging.”

mr. styles chuckles and uses his thumb to rub tight circles on my throbbing bundle of nerves. his gaze is piercing as he watches me struggle to accommodate his length. my walls clench desperately around him, trying to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion.

“fuck darling, you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya? you’re practically suffocating me.” he mumbles and quickens his thrusts as he approaches his own release. his grip on my hips tightens, and he slams into me with a force that takes my breath away.

his cock pulses against my walls and my body responds to his, the pleasure building until it’s too much to bear.

“daddy please-“ i whimper out and grab his shoulders for support as the unfamiliar feelings flush through my body.

“that’s it, cum for me.” he smirks and rubs my clit quicker, his thumb pressing down harder on my sensitive nub. my body shudders and convulses as the orgasm crashes over me, my walls clenching around his cock as he continues to thrust.

mr. styles groans and his thrusts become erratic, his cock pulsing inside me as he reaches his own climax. his grip on my hips tightens and he buries himself inside me, his hips snapping up to meet mine as he empties himself inside me.

for a moment, we stay like that, our bodies still connected as we catch our breath.

mr. styles finally pulls out, leaving me feeling empty and exposed. i watch as he tucks himself back into his pants, his eyes never leaving mine. he walks over to the small wooden table and grabs a cigarette, lighting it up and taking a long drag.

"get fixed before the wife gets back," he says, his voice gruff and emotionless. he walks over to the door, putting his hat back on and going back out to the ranch. “i have work to do.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅.𖥔 ݁ ˖

👀

xoxo

[cheollipop]

❅*⋆ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

while the world revelled in the first snowfall of the year — crowding their windows as the sky painted the streets in a blanket of white — your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating wooyoung.

❅ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, men whimpering *drools*, wooyoung is a tease, sub-leaning!reader, cockwarming, creaming, praise, nicknames (youngie, woo; baby, good girl, darling, love), they are so in love i want to throw up

❅ A/N: happiest birthday to my beloved.

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Smoothing your spatula over the cooled top layer, small, golden crumbs adhered to the buttercream as you coated the freshly baked cake’s exterior. You peered outside the window atop the sink, a smile stretching your lips when you’d noticed the falling white specs coating the world behind the safety of your glass pane.

You loved winter. You loved the hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into a swirl of whipped cream, huddling up on the couch with candles burning, blankets engulfing your form while the world around you faded away as warmth seeped into your skin. You loved the anticipation of snow, and the bliss it brought with it when it dressed the streets in a soft, pearly gown. You loved the big jumpers you’d sneak out of Wooyoung’s closet, his scent imbedded into the soft fibres, and the homemade soup burning your tongue as he spoon-fed it into your open mouth. Even with harsh storms swaying the trees from side to side, branches banging against your windows, hail pounding on the hoods of cars, and bleak winds breaching the thick layers of cashmere and fleece, winter with Wooyoung was warm.

Too immersed in taking in the sky’s frosty offering, you’d missed the gentle rustling of keys, the click of the front door, mindlessly spreading the slightly-too-thick coating while socked feet padded their way to your idle form. The sudden hands on your waist startled you, a gallop of buttercream flying off the spatula you were holding as your arm jolted upwards, quickly twisting your body with a stunted inhale to face the intruder. Your initial fright dwindled away as you stood before Wooyoung, eyes closed to avoid the buttercream stuck over his eyebrow, his body trapping yours against the marble counter.

“Woo,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, giggles bubbling up in your throat as you reached for the tablecloth you had thrown over your shoulder, wiping his face with your lips drawn tight to suppress the laugh attempting to slip through.

“Is this how you treat me on my birthday?” You wanted to kiss his pout away, but you resisted. “I rushed home to my darling because I missed her so much, and she tries to blind me,” he sulked, fluttering his eyes open once you’d wiped his face completely clean.

This time, you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips together, moving to peck the corners before pulling away. “I’m sorry, my love,” you smiled apologetically, not bothering with teasing him on his birthday. His mouth stretched into a smile that mirrored yours, and you leaned into his body, arms wrapping around his small waist while his circled your own. Glancing down at his shirt, about to scold him for the improper number of layers he’d thrown on before leaving, your eyebrows shot up at the blotchy streaks of brown painting the thin white. “What did the guys do to you?”

He tilted his head to take in the state of his shirt, blowing out a breathy laugh before directing his gaze back to your puzzled features. “Oh baby, you should’ve seen my face. They had Jongho push it down into the cake.”

“Mm, you still have some in your hair,” you grinned while picking out the crumbs from his hairline, running your fingers through dark locks to break up the stuck-together strands.

A gust of air blew over your face as it escaped Wooyoung’s parted lips in a heavy sigh, interrupting your ministrations when he dropped his head onto your shoulder to nuzzle his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the lingering scent of vanilla wafting off your skin and occupying your residence. Pressing a kiss to your neck, he muttered against the soft flesh, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, “you’ve only been gone for two hours.”

“Too long.”

Your chest warmed, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape while he laid the weight of his head onto your shoulder, breath steady and arms secure around your waist, occasionally tightening as he zoned in and out of the present, content to simply rest within the aura of tranquillity you’d effortlessly granted him. “You’re here now,” you burrowed your nose into his hair, the chocolatey aroma of a wasted cake embedded into the soft locks.

It wasn’t that Wooyoung was fond of winter too — he simply enjoyed spending it by your side. Pretending to be cold so you’d snuggle closer to him, running your hands through his hair and peppering kisses over his face until it scrunched up, blowing hot air over his already-warm palms just to see the corners of his eyes wrinkle as his lips curled with a smile. You'd wait all year to watch the world pile on layers of thick fabric with a sheet of white, quickly melting dust resting on their shoulders, dainty snowflakes bedecking brown locks, irises glinting under the winter sky as you walked down the slippery sidewalk with intertwined fingers swinging between your bodies.

Winter, to you and Wooyoung, meant meaningless walks under the soft snowfall, feeling the momentary chill of the icy flakes on your skin before it reverted back to liquid. Red noses inhaling the crisp air, soft gusts of fog leaving freckled lips as excited words rolled off his tongue — something about a new series he was watching, or was it a movie? The non-prescription glasses he insisted on wearing all but fully beclouded, droplets of melted snow rolling off the plastic frame, his lips cracked with their excessive movement as he kept switching between topics, as though he’d been saving them up for weeks. As though you didn’t share most of the day’s hours in each other’s company, eyes meeting delicate features as the morning sun cast its early rays over your resting figures, and falling shut within each other’s embrace, hoping their gentle touch could carry into your dreams.

Wooyoung knew when to be quiet as well. When the grey, weary skies reflected upon your affect, your warm sheets proving to be a little more difficult to part with, and words a little more difficult to utter. In such instances, Wooyoung offered you peace, safety, warmth. A place to rest and recover, where the passage of time didn’t seem too daunting, where you could find footing at your own pace, with a gaze flooded with unfaltering adoration cast upon you, and arms warmer than the peak of summer holding your trembling form until it found the strength to stand alone, a ghost of a palm on your lower back even as you took your first steps back into the present.

A pleasant exhale warmed your shoulder before Wooyoung’s body retreated partially, arms still encompassing your body while he directed his focus onto the counter behind you. “Has my baby been working on this since I left?” His tone was playful, amused as he peered over your shoulder at the crumb-coated cake left unfinished.

The corners of your lips lifted into a shy smile, cheeks flushed while you nodded. With your eyes fixed onto a particular stain on Wooyoung’s collar, you’d missed the tenderness of his gaze as he took you in — curling in on yourself while he held you in his arms, flour dusted over your sweater and traces of buttercream left at the corner of your mouth from a sneaky taste testing you thought would go unnoticed. Holding your chin with his pointer and thumb, Wooyoung directed your focus back to his face, greeting you with an easy smile before leaning forward to close the gap between your lips. They sashayed like dancers, moulding against one another in a gentle, yet gradually deepening kiss, noses pressing against one another as Wooyoung stepped further into your space.

And just like that, he was gone again, moving back to moon over the blend of abashment and disorientation taking over your features while your lips continued to chase his, the plushness lingering over your senses, and you wanted more. But the hands on your waist were twisting you clockwise until you faced the loitering snowfall once again, Wooyoung’s arms now on either side of you, bracketing your body against the counter while his lips feathered over the cartilage of your ear as he spoke, “come on then, don’t let me distract you.”

Your heartrate picked up, Wooyoung’s body heat — despite the intentional space left between your back and his chest — seeping into your skin, not aiding the flush running up your body at the proximity, the not-so-innocent touches, the teasing, the taste of his lips persisting over yours.

“Woo,” the tone was firm, but your voice wavered before you could stop it, and the telltale stretch of his mouth against the shell of your ear told you all you needed to know — Wooyoung was aware of his effect on you, and would work to exploit his power in any way he could.

Slender fingers reached for the piping bag you’d set aside earlier, twisting one of your hands with his free one to place the tool into your open palm. “Here, I’ll help,” his smirk remained, evident in his voice as he laid his hands over your knuckles, following your lead as you adjusted the bag in your hold until it fit comfortably.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding, steadying your trembling hands and angling your body over the counter, dragging Wooyoung down with you as he watched your measured movements in silence. Pressing down on the sides of the plastic bag, you formed your first buttercream swirl with a meticulous twist of the wrist. You pursed your lips, leaning back ever so slightly to examine it before nodding in approval, bending down once again to repeat the process.

Wooyoung's hand remained perched idly over yours, eyes flitting between your profile and the hands lining his birthday cake’s circumference with — very uneven — swirls of vanilla buttercream. With no trace of your previous bashfulness to be found, Wooyoung found himself mooning over the engaged furrow of your eyebrows, the glossy sliver of tongue held between your teeth, steady hands moving underneath his with no complaint about their added weight; you’ll most likely use that as an excuse to justify the noticeable discrepancy in swirl size, and Wooyoung will most likely allow it, drop the banter and accept you accusations, simply to see the blissful spark lighting up your irises.

Suddenly straightening up into his body, you’d dragged Wooyoung out of his sappy daydreams and back to inspect the finished cake, the decorative swirls appearing more uniform now that they’d been clustered together, the mouthwatering scent of vanilla and caramel so inviting, so homey and pleasant.

As though you’d read his mind, you reached forward to grab a clean fork from the dishrack, not bothering with cutting out a slice before you’d stabbed the cake to scoop out a bite of fluffy, vanilla-coated sponge. Wooyoung's mouth opened without thought as you directed the heaped fork over your shoulder, teeth clanging against the metal as he slid the contents off its prongs. You'd expected the passionate feedback, turning your head as soon as his eyes had fell shut, wishing you’d plugged your ears as soon as the hyperbolic moaning began. Sensing the sway of his body behind you while he chewed loudly, you slid your finger over the coated side of the cake, collecting a bead of buttercream and rotating your body to smear it onto his cheek. The moaning stopped, thank fuck.

The deadpan expression barely lasted, his features melting into that of warmth, affection, love — as though you’d handcrafted the intricate snowflakes painting the world white and placed them into his hands. Wooyoung’s gaze moved to your lips, skipping contemplation, and diving forward to share the sweet remnants of vanilla on his tongue, flicking it over your bottom lip with a sly smile. He trailed tender kisses up your face, starting at the corner of your mouth and up to your cheekbone. And just as your eyes fluttered shut, a warm, buttercream-covered cheek collided with yours, curved nose nuzzling into the warm flesh to smear the sugary cream over your skin. His grip on your waist was unyielding, holding you still while you thrashed in his arms.

“You shouldn’t play with your food, my love,” he grinned, fingers now poking at your sides.

“Woo—” you shrieked and jerked away from his touch, throwing your head back as giggles erupted from your chest. “Please—s-stop!”

He carried on with his ministrations for a few moments more, revelling in the pleasant melody leaving your smiling lips, the joyous expression persisting even after his hands ceased their motion, now resting comfortably over the curve of your waist. It was as though an inconspicuous force drew him to you, finding it laborious to remain detached from your form. The cake on his shirt be damned, he wrapped himself around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to inhale the scent of your body wash, pressing feathery pecks over the soft skin.

The corners of your lips curled upwards, sighing pleasantly at the gentle gesture as you smoothed your hands down his back, nuzzling your cheek into his clothed shoulder while the scent of musk and chocolate mingled in the air around you.

Settling in the tranquil stillness with Wooyoung, you could feel the taut, lean muscle lining his back beneath your palms, absorbing his comforting heat as you stood together. “How are you not cold?”

He smiled fondly at the slight lisp you spoke with, tucked so close to his body, his shoulder muffled your words. Pulling back, he placed a wet kiss to the tip of your nose when you’d whined about the sudden parting, and his hands reached for yours. He enveloped the icy digits within the warmth of his own, bringing them up to his mouth to blow hot air into the cocoon he’d created around your hands. Closing his fingers around yours completely, he hoped it’d contain the warmth of his breath, lowering them back down to peer at you through his eyelashes, a familiar glint in his eyes.

“What?” you questioned warily, one eyebrow raised and heat rushing through your body.

Despite his intense stare, his eyes — though slightly narrowed — remained soft, one hand leaving yours to smooth down the hair at the side of your head, the scent of chocolate surrounding you once again as he pressed his lips to your temple, the leftover sugary cream on his skin spreading over your cheekbone as he spoke.

“My sweet baby, let’s warm you up, yeah?”

--

All plans to ravish you vanished as soon as your knees met the carpeted floor between his legs, hurried fingers tugging at his sweatpants, not allowing him the time to settle back down onto the couch cushions before a wet tongue swiped over the precum beading at his tip.

“Baby, you really don’t have to,” he muttered breathlessly, fingers carding through your hair, eager eyes watching your spit-soaked lips approaching his cock.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wordlessly took his cockhead into your mouth, fluttering your eyes shut as you lowered yourself further down his length, grunts and choked moans reverberating in your ears and motivating you to carry on. He felt heavy on your tongue, the prominent vein lining his shaft throbbing in your mouth and bitter precum overwhelming your tastebuds. Wooyoung’s thighs tensed under your palms, and glancing up at him, you watched the turmoil his features portrayed, wanting you to move at your own pace, yet the burning want sizzling in his gut begged him to take what he wanted.

“Youngie,” a gentle mumble of his name was enough to drag him out of the battles crowding his mind, snapping his eyes down to your face with parted lips and stunted exhales. Dragging your mouth down his length, you watched as his gaze moved to take in the slow descent, then back up at the sound of your voice, “use me however you want, birthday boy.”

You flattened your tongue over underside of his cock, moving upwards to circle around his head, your exaggerated slurping breaking Wooyoung’s composure, the internal battles in his mind coming to a standstill as your warmth engulfed him, eyes beginning to roll back with every inch you took down the rough plane of your tongue. His hands shot up to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheekbones while he kept you in place, languidly rolling his hips into your mouth, head thrown back over the cushions behind him with burning arousal rushing through his body. You nuzzled your nose into the thick hairs at his base, and even as you gagged, your mind floated in ecstasy with every upward buck of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Fuck—‘m sorry darling, you feel so good,” he admired the skill in which you took his cock with lidded eyes, brows furrowed while he held you down until he felt the last of your oxygen warming the skin of his pelvis.

Wooyoung helped you off his length before you had the chance to tap on his thigh, chest heaving as he watched you regain your breath, his throbbing length coated in your spit and spurting translucent, sticky precum in anticipation. He followed the string of saliva connecting the tip of your tongue to his cockhead, swallowing dryly as his body lit up with all-consuming lust. Watching you suck in the air you’d lost, Wooyoung assumed he’d have more time to recover, to push down the hints of an orgasm come too soon, but the sudden fingers around his base offered him no reprieve. Small, firm tugs on the lower half of his cock built him up to an almost-high once again, his voice thinning — groans turned choked-up moans — and his hips involuntarily jerking into your fist.

“W-wait—baby, ‘m gonna cum, please—” he pleaded, but the small smile you tried to hide told him everything he needed to know: you weren’t planning on stopping. You wanted to hear him whimper and whine, watch him squirm and shiver under your touch until he’d dirtied his clothes with his own cum, until his cock could no longer handle the flaring stimulation. But Wooyoung had other plans, grabbing your wrist and sighing as you relaxed your fingers around his cock, shutting his eyes to bask in the calm before opening them once again to take in your dejected features. Too riled up to play your games, like a carnivorous fauna who’d been mercilessly starved for weeks, Wooyoung wanted to feast. “God, darling, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You thought the couch would’ve been reserved for foreplay and playful teasing, but Wooyoung didn’t bother move to the comfort of your shared bed, simply lifting you off the ground and trapping you under him, the fingers tangled in the hair at your nape tugging your head back to bare your neck while blunt canines left imprints over the delicate skin. Wooyoung’s cock fit snugly between your walls, resting comfortably within your clenching heat while he ravished you, his body weight resting on your pelvis restricting your movement. It seemed as though the raw lust blazing in hooded eyes had dissipated completely, replaced by unwavering patience, gentle pecks and blooming bruises, a throbbing cock seated within your cunt with no plans of moving, of fucking you the way you’d yearned for.

“Youngie,” you whined, a high-pitched whisper that elicited a hum from the man biting into your shoulder. “Please move.”

A breathy chuckle blew over your skin, “I thought the birthday boy made the requests?”

Your expression fell, was it the embarrassment or dejection? Either or, you turned your head to face the backrest, the motion restricted by the hand in your hair, now easing its grip as Wooyoung noticed the flush spreading up from the collar of the flour-dusted sweatshirt he didn’t bother add to the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown over the carpet.

Redirecting back up to your jaw, he planted wet, open-mouthed kisses over its slope, gentle fingers on your chin guiding your gaze back to him. “Oh baby, I’m just kidding.”

His lips settled into an easy smile, soft fringe fanned over his forehead and shimmering beads of sweat forming over the slivers of skin peeking through. The abashment you’d felt faded upon meeting his eyes, void of any judgement, and full of unconditional infatuation. His lips landed onto yours while you were too busy admiring his features — a slow, deep kiss to match the leisure movement of his hips, the drag of his cock over your walls throwing gasoline into the fire burning in your gut. Arm hooking under your knee, he spread you open and laid himself over your lower half.

“What are you—”

“Moving,” a sly smirk paired with a sharp thrust into your welcoming heat, a groan left his parted lips while he watched you melt under his towering frame, the audible squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.

He didn’t give you time to process, elbows digging into the cushion on either side of your head as he built up to a mind-numbing pace, stuffing his cock inside you and revelling in the pleasure painting your features — eyes shut and mouth forming an ‘o’, unable to form coherent words, only a staccato of airy ah’s. His cock was relentless, repeatedly pressing into your sweet spot to light fireworks behind your eyelids, your hips rolling to meet his to create an echo of skin-on-skin between the four walls. The constant squeeze of your pussy around him, the sweet sounds leaving your lips, the firm hold you had around his biceps as he pistoned his hips into you with fervour — Wooyoung’s composure began faltering, and his desperation unveiled itself the deeper he fucked himself into your sopping cunt.

You were so wet, a frustrated whine reverberating in Wooyoung’s throat when he slipped out of you, hands trembling as he hurriedly pushed himself back into your fluttering hole, sighing in unison once your walls were once again moulded to his shape. He lowered himself atop you, his forearms easing some of his body weight off yours while he nuzzled back into your neck, grunts and breathy moans now much closer to your ear, much clearer, sending searing waves of heat straight down to your stretched core.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered into your skin, “taking me so well, letting me use your cunt the way I want. Such a good girl for me,” he bit down on the column of your throat, feeling it vibrate with your moans as he built himself up to the brink of his orgasm, then slowing down to drag you there with him.

“Fuck, Woo, please—”

Your fingers found the hair at his crown and tugged, not to pull him off you, but to hear the whimpers sounding at the back of his throat. You were close too, so fucking close from the relentless abuse of your g-spot, Wooyoung’s cockhead pressing into it with every forceful thrust into your needy cunt while his pelvis continuously brushed against your swollen clit. The familiar fluttering didn’t go unnoticed, your pussy gripping Wooyoung with its every retreat, swallowing him back inside — inch by inch — with an exhale of relief.

“Close?”

It sounded more like a statement, but you nodded anyway, the hands on his shoulders sliding down his bare back to grip the warm flesh of his hips, desperately guiding them into your heat. The gesture, paired with the doe, sparking eyes you looked up at him with, the gentle tone of your voice as whispered pleads and repetitions of his name escaped your pouty lips, dragged Wooyoung over the edge, tumbling down the steep hill of his orgasm until his vision blurred with unshed tears. The rhythm he'd maintained broke, replaced by sloppy, frenzied thrusts into your dripping cunt, a thick ring of cream forming around his cock as he emptied inside you.

He twitched violently between your walls, and the sudden warmth spreading through your lower belly dragged you down that hill with Wooyoung. You clamped down around his length, halting the frantic pounding as he sheathed himself within your cunt, feeding thick ropes of white into your womb while he shuddered above you, unfiltered moans vibrating against the side of your neck.

It felt like you were still coming, even as Wooyoung used your cunt to milk out the last of his cum, heavy dollops streaming out of the stretched hole, your walls continued to flutter around him, thighs trembling at his side and under his palm. Even as he stretched your leg out for you, refusing to leave the comforting warmth of your cunt while he wrapped his arms around you and twisted you onto your sides, your mind still floated within a cloud of ecstasy.

Was it your orgasm, or was it just Wooyoung? His presence, the soft scent of his cologne and the chocolate in his hair creating a bubble of comfort around your resting frame, his warmth seeping into your skin and lighting your heart ablaze. Today was meant to be about him, celebrating him, but love laced itself into everything Wooyoung did, and he couldn’t help but give, even on a day on which he was meant to take.

“Thank you for today,” the words spoken into your hair were unexpected, and you lifted your head to meet dazed eyes.

“What?”

“The cake, and the dessert,” he smiled at the innuendo, leaning down to peck the tip of your scrunched nose. “Thank you for loving me.”

Dumbstruck, you stared up at the man with glassy eyes, tucking yourself back into his chest before he could question the tearful reception of his words. But Wooyoung only held you tighter, pressing a faint yet reassuring kiss over your hair while you sunk further into his arms. Warm. Even in the midst of winter, Wooyoung was warm.

With the fluffy blanket you’d laid over the backrest now wrapped around your bare figures, you rested within Wooyoung’s secure hold, sharing whispered confessions and hearty giggles while the sun started its descent from its locus. And as the sky shifted from blues to a vivid magenta, you endeavoured to maintain the smile stretching Wooyoung’s lips, to watch his lines around his mouth further deepen until this happiness forever etched itself onto his face.

The world continued to celebrate the first snow of the year — blankets of white now melting over the asphalt — but your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating Wooyoung.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[wintfleur]

omg heyyy, I’d love to read something of how they would react if Juliette, mat and Quinn are out on a date night, and then when they’re out they get swarmed by paps and they’re kind of taking up their personal space and Juliette starts getting anxious??🤍

ᥫ᭡ Lights, camera, acción!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Mat barzal x Leclerc f1 driver oc! x Quinn Hughes )

°. — details ( g; angsty. w; angst, the paps being fucking creeps. Mentions of the paps trying to see under Julie’s dress. wc; 2.2k )

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( hi lovely , tysm for sending in a request !! This is like the first fic I’ve really written for this au so I had so much fun !! So sorry it took so long to get out !! Hope you all enjoy it , and please let me know what you guys think !! )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( also !! I know this is a bit unrealistic because of the privacy laws and restrictions on professional photography in Monaco . . . but let’s just pretend those don’t exist for the sake of this fic please )

“We watched that last time” Quinn complained as he set down his glass of wine on the fine white tablecloth. The linen was so soft, softer than some blankets that he's slept on in the hotels he's stayed at, but he didn't expect anything less from the very nice restaurant Juliette had taken them too. 

He licked his lips, cleaning them of any remnants of the red wine that he knew wouldn't be able to pronounce correctly. What he did know was that his girlfriend sounded incredibly hot pronouncing it and he knew Mat felt the same way with how he bit his lip and adjusted in his seat, turning his attention towards the beautiful view of the sunset covered sky that they got from sitting on the patio. 

“So? Then we can watch the second one” Mat was quick to come up with a solution to their ongoing problem of picking a movie for tonight. Mat wanted to watch The Hangover again, Quinn didn't, and Julie was not going to get between them on this topic again. 

“What do you think sweetheart?” Mat turned his playful glare away from Quinn and to Juliette who had her elbow on the table, her chin in her palm as she watched the two playfully argue with a fond smile on her red lips, her own glass of wine long forgotten. 

“I think” Juliette leaned closer to the two as she spoke slowly, the chill air of Monaco giving her bare arms and legs goosebumps. She watched as both of their gazes fell to her cleavage, lingering on the necklace with their initials decorating her neck. She could tell by the way both of their breaths hitched that they thought she was going to turn there night towards a different direction. Julie gave them a teasing smirk as she continued “That I'm going to pick the movie tonight” 

“So, what you're saying is that we're watching twilight again?” Quinn teased with a smile as he leaned back in his chair, just itching to slip out of his whitebutton up shirt that Mat had picked out for him. Julie had a habit of watching the same group of movies depending on the time of the year and how she felt. And she was really feeling Edward Cullen as of late. 

“I'll even let you guys pick which one!” Julie giggled as she reached for her glass, taking a large sip of the expensive wine. Mat and Quinn could definitely tell that the wine was starting to get to her, she was far more giggly than usual. And with how she kept on nudging her stiletto foot against their leg, touchy as well. Two Telltale signs that she was tipsy. 

Mat and Quinn got lost in their own thoughts as they looked at their girlfriend who sat across from them, their thoughts very similar. Julie looked so ethereal under the fairy lights that hung across the patio, her smile and the look in her eyes were driving them crazy. They both desperately wanted to go home . . . or at least make it to the car. 

Quinn cleared his throat and turned the conversation into a different direction, he could see the look in Mat’s eyes, and they still had to wait for their desert to arrive, and mat wasn't one with patience. Julie slowly sipped on her wine as she listened to her boys talk, tilting her head to look out at the night sky with watchful eyes, just taking in the sweet moment of being with her lovers, in her home city. 

The sweet moment was ruined when she felt a cold chill run down her back, and it was like the calm air around them totally shifted into a tense and uncomfortable feeling. She felt like she was being watched. She looked back to Quinn and Mat who were smiling all lovey to each other, neither of them seems to have the same feeling she did. 

She sat up straight in her chair and quickly looked around the empty patio when she heard the subtle sound of a clicking. That anxiousness and fear started creeping up in her bones at the thought of them being watched, please not again. She cut off their conversation with her anxious tone “Did you hear that?” 

Mat and Quinn were quick to halt their conversation when they heard the desperation in her voice, a look of worry coming across both of their faces. Quinn was the first one to speak up while Mat reached across the table to rest his hand on Julie's trembling hand that rested on the table, caressing her soft skin with his thumb “No, what did you hear?” 

“I could have sworn I heard a camera click” Julie frowned as she looked behind her one more time, all she could see was the building next door and a little bit of the busy street. She couldn't see anything from the ground level. Quinn also looked around and he couldn't see much from where they sat “Maybe you misheard? 

Click!

The throuples heads all snapped towards the sound, Mat moved his hands from Quinn's thigh and Julie's hand and stood up from his chair and walked past the empty table next them to see over the protective railing. His eyes widen when he sees a man standing next to a light post on the street, a big black camera in his hands, pointed right at them. Mat clenched his fists as he hissed in anger “What the fuck” 

“Come on we're leaving” Quinn sighed as he stood up from his chair, holding his hand out to help Julie up. Julie was quick to get up and hold onto Quinn's arm, the world slightly spinning from her getting up so fast while being tipsy. Mat flips the man off before turning around and making his way back to the table, pulling his wallet out and leaving several bills on the table, not caring if he overpaid, it would be a nice tip. 

He followed them off the balcony and through the restaurant to the back exit that led to where her car was parked. Julie leaned against Quinn's side as he led them towards the door, mat was practically seething as he walked behind them, he hated how insensitive people were, it was disgusting how the paparazzi's treated Julie. 

Mat rested his hand on Quinn's lower back as he moved in front of them to open the door for them, he was angry, but he still made sure to smile at them both as they walked out of the door. Quinn could see the anger in mat’s eyes, and he could see the anxiety in Julie’s, he hated how such a good date night turned sour because some people were such fucking creeps. 

Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she snuggled closer to him, his body warmth protecting her from the chill breeze of Monte Carlo. Mat quickened his steps so he could walk on the other side of Julie, his shoulders were tense as he kept on looking around them, hoping that his gut was wrong and that there weren't more paparazzi. 

They were quiet as they walked to the small car park, but the silence was quickly gone as they turned the corner to the car park. Julie let out a gasp of surprise and stepped back in shock at the loud shouts and flashes from the pictures being taken. Quinn was quick to gently pull Julie behind him, hiding her from the paparazzi that stood next to their car waiting for them. 

“Juliette! Juliette smile!” The paparazzi all screamed their names, shouting out questions and demands. The three of them knew better and kept their mouths closed, not giving them any attention that they desired. Julie winced and closed her eyes; every loud click and shouts made her flinch and move closer to Quinn who was leading her towards the car. 

Mat quickly pulled out the keys and unlocked the car for them to quickly get in, standing behind them protectively as the paparazzi's moved closer to them, they were surrounded, and mat was doing everything to hold back and not shove them away. Julie squeezed her eyes shut and trusted Quinn to lead her, her heart felt like it was going to shoot out of her chest. The flashing lights and the shouting made quick work to give her a headache, the wine in her bloodstream not helping. 

Quinn quickly opened the backseat door and helped Julie in the car while Mat got in the driver's seat. Quinn quickly stood behind her as she got in when he noticed one of the paparazzi crouching down, hoping to see up her dress. Quinn sent him a heated glare before getting in the backseat with her and closing the door. Mat quickly locked the doors and started the car. 

Julie slumped in the middle seat, leaning her head back with her eyes still closed as she tried to calm down. Quinn moved closer to her and softly brushed her hair out of her face, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered “It's okay honey, they can't get to us in here. Your safe” 

“Those fucking creeps, there lucky i didn't run them over” Mat hissed angrily with a scoff as he pulled out of the parking lot and into the streets. Quinn kisses Julie's forehead again as she cuddles into his side, Quinn says Mat's name in a calm town, wanting him to calm down before he gets too worked up. 

Mat lets out a heavy breath telling himself to calm down, he quickly looks in the rearview mirror and frowns when he sees the upset look on Julie's face, Quinn was playing with her trembling fingers, knowing that it would help calm her down. Mat asks softly, "Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry that I ruined our date night” Julie murmured sadly, so quietly that Mat almost didn't hear her from the front seat, Ignoring her boyfriend's question. Juliette had terrible luck with the paparazzi, they never left her alone, to the point where she’s had to move twice from the fear of her being watched at her home. A fear that made her anxiety even worse. 

Mat’s heart broke at how dejected she sounded, and he wished he could just give her a big hug and kiss all her sadness away; he would make sure to do so when they got home. It hurt both of their hearts to hear those words coming out of her mouth, especially when it's definitely not her fault. Quinn frowned and continued to play with her hands and hair “it's not your fault angel, please don't say that” 

“Yeah, it's those assholes' faults, besides we have a whole lot of night left” Mat was quick to reassure her, they hated seeing her upset and sad. Mat made eye contact with Julie through the rearview mirror when she lifted her head from Quinn's chest. Mat sent her a flirtatious wink “And i know a lot of ways we can enjoy out night” 

A small chuckle leaves Julie’s lips at Mat’s flirting, he never failed to make her smile. Both of them smiled at the sound of her laughter, happy to have cheered her up. Quinn pressed a quick kiss to her temple before saying sweetly “There’s that pretty smile we missed so much” 

Julie felt her heart flutter as she tilted her head to look up at Quinn, he looked so handsome. He had some stubble from not shaving this morning, his longer hair was a little messy, and God that smile on his lips. Quinn looks down at her with a teasing smirk before glancing at mat “Awe look Shes blushing too” 

“Where did your dirty little mind go sweetheart?” Mat teased as he leaned back in the driver's seat, his right hand falling in his lap as he drove with one hand. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror as he continues to speak “I was talking about us cuddling on the couch watching twilight and eating some sweets” 

Quinn laughs along with Mat when Juliette lets out a loud groan at their teasing. She playfully pushed Quinn away, but he just grabbed her hands and pulled her closer, she was practically in his lap now. Quinn gently cupped her chin and pulled her into a soft kiss. Julie hummed and closed her eyes, her hand coming up to cup his jaw as the kiss got heated. Julie could taste the wine on his tongue, and she wanted more. 

Mat bit his lip to hold in his groan at the sight of the making out in the back of the car, having to stop himself from pressing hard on the gas to get home faster. Julie slowly pulled away from the kiss and sat back in her seat in the middle, crossing her arms over her chest with an embarrassed pout “I hate you both” 

“No, you don’t” Mat smiled as he pulled into the street that led to the apartment building where Julie's penthouse was located. Julie scooted forward in her seat, leaning forward between the driver and passengers' seat to place a quick kiss on his before falling back in her seat with a surprised squeal when mat suddenly drove over a bump, Quinn had grabbed her, and his look of worry turns into a smile at the giggle she let out. 

 “No, no i don't” 

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( this is so poorly written omg I’m gonna sob 💔 )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @lavisenri @callsignwidow @willowpains @winterbarnesblog @yoontwin )

©️WINTFLEUR

[babyangelsky]

The Love Sea special episode said Blue = 💙Love💙!

I already knew that Tongrak and Mahasamut were color and fabric coded boys in love and the special really hammered it in. It also pointed something out that's been in front of my face this whole time!

We begin the episode with Mut waking up in blue patterned sheets.

He's looking at his calendar (on which the date is highlighted in blue) because Tongrak is set to return soon and there's blue decor on the walls and Rak's textures are in the wall hanging beside the bed.

In fact, the blue and patterns and textures are all over their house! The patterned rugs offer texture by nature, there's some decorative wood that adds texture to the walls and blue photos, there's blue in the pattern Mut is wearing, a blue patterned pillow on Rak's desk chair. Even my favorite chismoso Palm is sporting a blue patterned shirt as he helps Mut clean before Rak's return home.

Even on Vivi and Mook! One of them is in a blue pattern and the other in a textured dress and there's blue in their matching necklaces!

But that's not even the best part because LOOK at what Tongrak is wearing!

A SOLID COLORED SHIRT WITH A BLUE PATTERN ON THE POCKET OVER HIS HEART! THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF THIS SHIRT:

Before, it was plainly obvious to literally everyone that Rak was in love with Mahasamut but Rak couldn't admit it to himself. He was still afraid and guarding his heart so there was a solid pocket on his blue striped shirt. But look at him now!

He's got his husband's patterns over his heart and he's kissing him hello after a month apart in front of Viviana and Mook and god and the ocean with zero hesitation.

AND THAT'S BARELY THE FIRST 15 MINUTES OF THE EPISODE! The blue and the patterns and textures just keep going!

Blue in the tag Rak gives Mut.

Blue patterns on their clothes and again on Palm.

Blue patterns in the pillows and texture in the blanket they rest on while they go to their romantic dinner.

Tongrak sleeping so peacefully absolutely surrounded by all the blue in their home.

Mut in his blue patterned shirt getting sent off to work with breakfast and a forehead kiss from his husband.

Blue patterns in the tablecloth and seat cushions at the dinner Mook forced them to attend after interrupting their pre-dinner appetizer.

A dinner which they promptly skip out on because they'd much rather eat each other instead, UNDER THE BLINDING BLUE JELLYFISH LIGHT OF LOVE!

And I've just gotta talk about this shirt.

Because Tongrak isn't just wearing a blue patterned shirt.

He's wearing the same blue patterned shirt Mahasamut was wearing when he left Tongrak's house and symbolically took the love that he'd confessed and that had been rejected with him.

There's no longer sad memories attached to that shirt! Only happy memories of Rak and Mut planning their future together and being so excited about it that neither of them can sleep!

And it's not only them who are bundled safely in the patterned blue of love!

Blue = 💙Love💙 and they've been telling us that since the finale aired!

[jungle-angel]

Gently Falls The Snow (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob share an intimate little moment when everybody has gone to bed and the house falls quiet

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe @nobody7102 @sebsxphia

You had just finished cleaning up the last of the dishes and had run the tablecloth and napkins down to the basement to be put in the washer. The entire house had gone completely quiet with everybody having adjourned upstairs, the house still smelling heavily of Thanksgiving dinner and everyone full from the savory feast that had taken you and Bob at least three days to prepare.

You shut the lights off in the kitchen and blew out the candles on the dining room table, the cooking and casserole pans having been washed and neatly stacked while the dishes and silverware were being run through the dishwasher. Lady, your curly haired cocker spaniel, wove her way between your feet until you shooed her into the living room.

"Bob are you still awake?" you whispered.

Bob looked up at you, his features appearing much softer in the dim glow of the little switch-on candles that had been set up in the windows. His deep blue eyes appeared almost black, yet they gazed at you with a look of pure love and affection as he drew you into his lap.

"Look out the window," he whispered back.

You turned your gaze to the window in front of the recliner to find that it was snowing, heavy and hard, the ground already having accumulated a thick, fluffy coating of white, illuminated by the eerie glow of the streetlamps outside.

"Oh Bob it's so pretty," you murmured.

Bob placed a few gentle pecks on your cheeks, making you giggle. "And so aren't you Mrs. Floyd."

You settled into his lap, the both of you warm under the plush throw blanket that his older brother's wife had gotten you for a wedding gift. It was absolute heaven, being in your cozy home with the man you loved most.

"Dinner came out perfect, by the way," Bob mumbled, pressing his lips against your forehead.

"Mmmm, guess your dad's method of brining the turkey the night before really helped," you chuckled softly.

Bob yawned, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes drifted shut every so often from his belly being so full from dinner, but you couldn't help but admire the peaceful look on his face, even as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"You ready for Christmas soon?" you whispered.

"Hell no," he mumbled.

You both laughed a little as Lady settled into her bed near the chair, you and Bob drifting off into a deep sleep as the snow fell outside, your soft snoring being the only thing to break the quiet in your home. It was these times of year when you felt close as ever in the place you called home.

[nadiajustbe]

"Oh I love Howl do much, I wish I had a room like his!"

I keep seeing this post all over the internet, with different people wanting to replicate Howl's infamous room. And, after years of asking and pleading for answers, here I am, ready to give you a full tutorial!

So, to have Howl's room you should:

Step one: Do not clean your room. Ever. Even If its 5x5 metres, don`t even try to clean it. Brooms aside, water is now our greatest enemy.

Step two: Let it fill itself with dust. Forget about wiping your surfaces with a tablecloth, this now illegal. Bonus points If you can't quite make out the original color of the blankets.

Step three: Trash it with stuff. The most un-wizardy stuff you can ever imagine. Empty packages, bottles from drinks, a lot of ballpoint pens casually laying here and there. Hide paper tissues in your sleeves so you could use them when you're dying from a cold and then left them on the floor. Yes, all of it. Just do it.

Step four: Spend minimum of two hours in the bathroom every morning, go wasting your time and buying strange, expensive thing right after that. This way you'll be too busy to even think about your room.

Step five: Find spiders in the corner of your room. Let them spread. Keep them as pets. Give them names of Shakespearian characters. Cheris them with all your heart...If you have one. Love them.

Congratulations! Now you have Howl's room, without buying anything on Amazon, just for free. Follow this simple steps and your dream will come true faster than you blink!

[milkistay]

what STRAY KIDS would do on valentine’s day 

pairing. skz x gn!reader

format. headcanons

chan

fancy dinner date

something about chan gives the impression that he’d really like doing the whole Dressing Up And Going Out extravaganza for valentine’s day. white tablecloths, gold champagne, decorative red rose centerpiece; chan’s gaze on you, thick with adoration, illuminated by the candlelight; a small, special gift handed to you shyly. he giggles at the cheesiness of it all but you look incredible and he’s never been more in love.

minho

home date

you best believe minho has a whole menu planned for you. multiple courses. drinks. sides. desserts. you spend the early evening as the sous chef, handing him spices and wooden spoons while pressing quick kisses to his cheek (he smiles every time). it’s sickeningly domestic. the dinner tastes fantastic of course, but not better than how the blush on minho’s face looks when you pay him the nth compliment of the night. you end the date on the couch, holding each other close and playing stupid games to decide who cleans up (you clean up together anyway).

changbin

chill dinner date

changbin adores taking his loved ones out to restaurants. he’d love to pick a old favorite spot or somewhere new and spend the evening sharing dishes with you and talking about anything and everything in your lives. and by the end of the night, when you’re both full of pasta or sushi or samgyeopsal, you’ll walk home together and changbin, ever so the gentleman, will drape his jacket over your shoulders. he lies in bed later, smiling at all the photos he took of you.

hyunjin

museum date

typical of our sweet hyunjin to want to take you to a museum. the winter rain is drumming on the windows but you’re protected by the quiet serenity of the museum. hyunjin leads you from room to room, holding your hand, and stops in front of every piece depicting two lovers, whispering, “that looks like us,” with a smile. and you listen, happily, when he begins to give you an art history 101 lesson because his eyes light up so beautifully. and when you finally leave, you duck into a small ramen shop and warm up while hyunjin flips through the new art book you bought him at the gift shop.

jisung

café date

what’s sweeter than a cold, winter morning spent inside a café sipping warm drinks with jisung? doing all of that one valentine’s day! jisung insists on trying their holiday specials (just a normal latte but with heart sprinkles or iced tea dyed pink and red) as you claim a small table in the corner, nothing in the world to care about expect for the loved one in front of you. it’s cozy, it’s familiar, it’s jisung’s favorite morning of the whole month.

felix

picnic date

felix is ever so endearing when he packs a bag with lunch and drinks and desserts and finds a perfect spot at the park—just under the light scatter of shade from a nearby tree. he lays his head in your lap while you play with his hair and the sun peeks through the leaves, golden spots across his cheeks. he brings flowers and chocolates, of course, along with a heart-shaped card that’s filled with his handwritten notes on all the things he loves about you (he writes small and squeezes words in every space, but he still runs out of surface area). a perfect afternoon spent, in his professional opinion. 

seungmin

movie date

honestly, it doesn’t matter which movie you watch because you barely end up even watching it. instead, cuddled up under one blanket on the couch and sharing each other’s favorite snacks, you and seungmin can’t stop talking long enough to actually pay attention. you’re trading stupid jokes and bits of stories from your weeks. you tell him about how you saw your friends earlier, he tells you about the annoyingly difficult new choreography he has to learn, you tell him about the puppy stuffie you saw in a store that reminded you of him, he tells you about his mom calling him to wish you a happy early birthday and so on and on and on. you fall asleep to the soft hum of the movie and seungmin fiddling with your fingers mindlessly.

jeongin

beach date

unbeknownst to you, jeongin has been planning this for weeks. he carefully selected the perfect beach—secluded, with a breathtaking view of the sea and the shore—and packed a bag with blankets and your convenience store drink of choice. you spend the whole afternoon with your feet in the sand and jeongin’s arm around you, looking out at the horizon and babbling about anything. and then the sun sets, staining the clouds colors of pink and orange, and finally, the constellations return to black sky. under the safety of the night, you and jeongin spill everything—dreams, hopes, silly wishes, sillier fears—and wonder how two people can be so perfect for one another. 

[maidscientistfindababy]

The Terrible Mess

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Niffty felt the bottom of the blanket and part of her dress near the leak turn wet. Baxter looked like he was going to vomit from the smell.

Niffty: I think it peed on me.

Baxter: I don't think it stopped there m'lady. We got to change it I think? It must have overfilled its diaper if it's leaking like that.

Niffty: Change it? Change it into what? We have nothing. No baby stuff.

Baxter carefully took the buddle out of Niffty's arms. He walked over to a clear spot on the ground and laid the bundle on the ground and finally freed the small, now fully fussing, imp from the buttery confinement.

Baxter: Well, Niffty.

Niffty: What?

Baxter: It's a girl. And whoever left her here is not going to return for her. Even if they attempted I would prevent it.

Baxter ran over to his desk and began searching.

Niffty: Why? What's wrong with it.

Baxter walked back over to the baby with a box of tissues and his trash can as Niffty nervously looked between Baxter and the crying baby.

Baxter: Nothing that I have observed yet. It's just clear whoever left here here was massively underprepared. I mean we are too but surely the parents had more time to prepare than us. She is wearing a shirt that almost fits you or me. Besides that, this blanket is clearly cut from some form of curtain or tablecloth. And it reeks of butter for some reason.

Baxter began trying to wipe away all the mess that had now traveled up the baby's back.

Niffty: She was in a popcorn bucket.

Baxter looked up at Niffty. She looked calmer than he was used to seeing his crazy-eyed gal. Almost sad but she still held that smile that was always present on her face. Baxter had caught on to her devotion to Alastor's belief that a person was never fully dressed without a smile. He knew this one wasn't real.

Niffty: I think she needs a bath.

Baxter: I think you are right. I will take her down to the kitchen and clean her. You should go change out of your soiled clothes as well Darling.

Baxter lifted the mostly wiped-off baby into his arms knowing that he was going to have to get changed after as well. As he walked out of the room he failed to see Niffty clean up the mess behind him before leaving to go change and shower.

[redcatmusings]

~The Language of Love~

Prompt: Love Language

The soft rapping of rain against the window woke Lin from her rather peaceful sleep. As she turned to embrace the warmth of a body that should have been there, her eyes caught the clock on the wall while her arm met emptiness. It was far later in the day than her usual 6am rise, the darkened rain clouds having led her internal clock astray, which explained the absence in her bed. A soft, disappointed sigh escaped her lips as she rolled over and sat up into a stretch. Kuvira would already be at work and with the rain, Lin had little desire to run any errands. Probably for the best she thought, for last night they had decided to neglect chores in favour of expressing their love in more physical ways. A smile tugged at the corners of Lin’s lips as she recalled the evening’s events, making every bit of today’s cleanup worth it; though her brows furrowed in disappointment that Kuvira had not woken her before leaving. Slipping a white tank top over her head and tying the strings on her pants, Lin glanced at the photo of her retirement from RC Police Force. She had little doubt that Mako would do a good job of keeping the Force strong and unified; especially with Kuvira at his side. Lin walked into the living room on her way to the kitchen to grab some coffee before starting the cleanup effort.

What greeted Lin was a much different image than she expected. The clothing they had discarded in haste last night now lay in a basket destined for the laundry. The clean clothes previously occupying the basket were now folded on the edge of the sofa, uniforms and dress shirts ironed and hanging from a hook on the door. Couch blankets were also neatly folded and placed along the back while the pillows had been straightened up.

As Lin made her way to the kitchen, she passed the washroom and peeked her head in, curious to see if Kuvira had addressed the mess they’d made here. Sure enough, she had. The towels were hung to dry. The mirror no longer had a steamy handprint on it and the shower curtain they had pulled the edges loose of, had been replaced.

Moving on to the kitchen, Lin was greeted with another surprise sight. At the table was today’s newspaper neatly folded, the vase with an array of colourful flowers placed back at the center with the tablecloth evenly covering the wooden table. This wasn’t how they had left it previously, flowers pushed aside, tablecloth balled up in Kuvira’s hands as Lin leaned into her lover’s embrace.

At the far end of the kitchen on the counter rested a cup next to the coffee, accompanied by a note being held down by it. Lin’s green eyes scanned over the note written in a the most beautiful cursive; something only a skilled and attentive hand could muster. She takes as much care with her writing as she does with pleasuring her partners, Lin thought to herself.

My Stubborn Ox,

I dare not wake you from your blissful slumber.

I apologize for not being there when you wake,

but I hope you have a relaxing day all the same.

I’ve gone ahead and done a few chores before work

so the place isn’t such a disaster.

Love Your Metal Rose

A warmth engulfed Lin’s heart as she looked up from the note. Kuvira may not be here, but love was there, in all the little details. Everywhere she looked were little ‘I love yous.’ From the clothes that had been ironed, hung or folded in the way she preferred, to the dishes that now laid clean and drying in the rack. They accentuated her current lonely presence while embracing her in the promise of love’s return home. The thoughtfulness spoke to Lin’s heart in ways words never could and Kuvira knew this. To be at the forefront of her lover’s thoughts as Kuvira was in hers, made Lin’s heart fill with joy and longing. She made a slight scoffing sound through a smile as she folded her arms across her chest. Once the coffee was ready Lin filled her Chief Baefong mug, a standing joke with the RC Force, and took a seat at the table; flipping open the newspaper. “I love you too, my Metal Rose.” She said, as she took a sip of her coffee and began to read the news.

Meanwhile, as the rain softly connected with the windows of the RC Police Force, Kuvira sat at her desk for lunch amidst piles of paperwork. Nearby Bolin could be heard defending his new employment to Mako, claiming this time he had found his calling. Here we go again Kuvira thought, as the two brothers drew closer and she opened up her lunch. Inside was the array of crackers and cheese she had prepared along with some cut fruit. However, it appeared something else had been tucked inside the lunch bag. Kuvira reached in and produced two tickets to a theatre dance she had her eye on. Bolin leaned over her shoulder with Mako a few steps behind.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Bolin inquired while Mako brought the palm of his hand to his face.

“That’s love Bolin. True love.” Kuvira replied with a smile.

[annwrites]

— pairing: chainsaw angus x lilsister!reader

— type: one-shot (collection)

— summary: it's your birthday.

— tw: domestic violence

— word count: 1,138

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr

Today is your birthday. You don't consider it a special day. Not anymore. Maybe you did when you were little—for the first few years of your young life—but now it's just like any other day.

You spend the day cleaning like always, running through your normal routine while Angus is off at the lab. Or elsewhere.

He didn't tell you where he was going this morning.

You hadn't asked.

You wonder sometimes which he prefers: you showing interest, so he can feel like he's important to you for more than just your survival—even if he's the thing that's slowly killing you—or seeming indifferent; your nose kept out of his business. Literal or otherwise.

That evening, Angus returns to the smell of lasagna wafting through the house. He finds you on the couch, reading a mass-market paperback, a throw-blanket resting over your legs and lap.

He extends a hand toward you, the other hidden behind his back. "Here."

You reach up, smiling, gently taking the plush object from his grip: a cheap brown teddy bear, that's holding a red heart, which says 'Happy Birthday!' in white thread. You try to imagine him walking through a store with it in-hand and fight back the urge to laugh at such an image.

You hug it to your chest, staring up at him, your cheeks now flushed. "Thank you. I love it."

He jerks his head in the direction of the kitchen. "C'mon. One more thing."

Your brows furrow. "The lasagna is still cooling. I just took it out."

He shakes his head, reaching down, taking your hand, your teddy falling onto the floor. "Not about that."

You rise from the couch, tossing your blanket aside, looking back over your shoulder at your forgotten gift as he pulls you in another direction, feeling sorry that this is the little guys new home.

You promise yourself mentally that you'll take good care of him.

You're currently seated at the dining-room table that's positioned in the middle of the kitchen, the oak-wood surface gleaming against the overhead light. The tablecloth is currently in the dryer. You'd forgotten to pull it out earlier. You still have placemats, though.

Angus sets a single cupcake—with light-pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles atop it—down in front of you, a single candle stuck in the middle.

Now you know what he'd been hiding.

You release a breath of relief then.

He walks over to the junk drawer, retrieving a lighter, a flame sparking to life as he lights the wick.

You lean forward, softly blowing, and it fizzles out.

You look back to Angus, who's currently leaned back against the stove, his arms crossed.

"What'd you wish for?"

You give him a pleasant lie, hoping he can't tell that it is one.

"I already have everything I want."

He nods, just once. "Let's eat."

The two of you dine in silence, your cupcake sitting in the middle of the table.

You're saving it for dessert.

You'd offered to split it with Angus once the two of you were done, but he'd said he'd gotten it for you to have.

He'd let you use the fine China for dinner tonight that had come from your grandmother. It was one of the things he took from the old house when the bank repo'd it after your dad's 'suicide'.

You're very careful not to leave a single scratch on the porcelain.

Once dinner is through, you forgo putting the plates in the dishwasher, instead choosing to hand-wash them with a soft sponge instead.

Once they're clean and dry, you turn around to return them to their home in their specific cupboard across the room, but you trip over Angus' foot.

You fall, and they shatter.

You stare in horror at the ruined dishes, beginning to shake. "I—I'm so sorry."

You scramble to begin picking them up, your lasagna likely to make a reapperance.

He loudly scoots his chair back and you flinch.

He kneels down, quickly grabbing you by the hair at the back of your head, staring into your terror-filled eyes. "Do you have any fucking idea how much those were worth?"

You blink up at him, still on your hands and knees. "I didn't... I didn't mean to. Your foot—I tripped."

He raises a brow, his nostrils flaring, pulling harder against your scalp. "Are you trying to make this my fault?"

You begin vehemently shaking your head. "No, no, of course not. It was an accident. I...maybe I can try to super-glue them back together? The big pieces."

He grabs your face in his free hand, squeezing your cheeks so hard you're afraid he'll break your temporomandibular joint. You won't be eating again for some time if he does, you suppose. Not solid foods, at least.

He won't be spoon-feeding you, that's for certain.

He sneers. "They can't be fucking fixed. I should've known better than to let you near them. You break everything you touch."

A quiet sob escapes your lips.

"I'm so sorry," you say, choking back tears.

"Stop fucking crying!" He shouts, shaking you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing it away. Hoping that when you open them again, he'll have disappeared.

Finally, he tosses you to the side.

He grabs your cupcake from the table, throwing it onto the floor.

Now you'll have to mop again.

There goes your dessert.

Along with your perfect night.

And your birthday celebrations, no matter how small.

"Clean it up," he spits, stalking out of the room.

He looks to the table over his shoulder. "And put the goddamn tablecloth back. Don't need you scratching it up and ruining it, too."

Once the kitchen has been tended to, and you feel numb instead of like all your nerves are frayed—you'd cried yourself to the point of exhaustion—you find the living room empty.

His car isn't out front anymore.

And your teddy's head is lying across the room, stuffing protruding from its neck.

You pick up its body, and its head, going into the bedroom.

You'd stuck yourself more than once, and it looks a little funny—you're no seamstress—but you'd managed to put him back together again.

You'd sung yourself a nursery rhyme while fixing him. That one about an egg.

It never did say that's what he was in the song.

You hide your new friend away beneath your secret floorboard that Angus doesn't know about—the one beneath the rug under the bedframe—and suddenly don't feel so lonely.

Now you're both trapped in darkness you can't ever escape. Broken things that've had to be mended. Neither of you quite the same after being 'repaired'. Pieces of you missing afterwards that you can't properly fit back inside.

At least you'll suffer together.

Happy birthday, you whisper to yourself.

[morulezopelforever]

The Congressman and the Sea

After cluttering up AO3 with fics on #maurice, #call me by your name and #and then we danced I have now launched my first Fellow Travelers fic. Click on the link below and learn about Hawk's life after his divorce from Lucy and the memories that haunt him.

Here are some tidbits to tickle your tastebuds. Let's face it, we all love Hawk (though not always) and dear, adorable Skippy.

(Chapter 1)

On another occasion I said: ‘I’ll serve at the State Department until they get me a position overseas, and when I’ve sat that out I’ll quit and remain in the country where I was sent so that I can eat and drink whatever I want and fuck whomever I want with no one interfering.’

‘Can I come too?’ he asked, his sweet brown eyes full of light. ‘Please?’

He was my junior by ten years, his hair was shiny and dark-brown and he had an elegant, noble nose and the whitest of teeth. No girl would ever deign to look at such a plain-looking creature, but I  always saw beauty and extravagance where other humans didn’t.

I stroked his stubbled cheeks and kissed him. ‘No, dear, but of course you can come and visit. It’ll be fun.’

I’ll never forget the sad look he gave me then, the feel of his soft skin when he settled his head against my shoulder. My dear Skippy.

(Chapter 2)

The sand of Rehoboth Beach was so clean when Skippy and I had a stroll there. He had rolled up his pants and ran in and out of the surf uttering cries of delight. He picked up sea shells, stuffed them into his pockets and when he found a conch he held it to his ear.

‘Hello?’ he cried, drawing from his cigarette as if he were making a call at his office desk. ‘Is that you, Senator Hawk…What…? A weekend on your yacht in Acapulco…? Oh, that sounds swell…What, am I to bring my missus too? Now listen, Senator, I’ll leave her at home and then I’ll be all yours…Put your wife ashore in San Diego, will you? She won’t want for anything there, the place is full of muscular sailors and…Hello…? Senator, don’t hang up on me, please, faith and begorrah, aren’t you the fair prince awaiting me beyond the green hills of County Kerry…? Damn it, the line just went dead!’

He flung the conch into the sea while I stood there shaking with laughter. He was full of light and air, so beautiful, so young, and my fingers trembled when I snapped pictures of him.

(Chapter 3)

The apartment on Nineteenth Street had  large windows granting a breath-taking view of the Constitution Gardens. I spent many nights there claiming to Lucy that I was often too busy to commute all the way home or whenever I was out late anyway attending parties or dinners.

There was a large double mattress on the living room floor. The refrigerator and the gas stove in the kitchen still worked. The telephone had long been disconnected.

Tim gasped with joy when he entered the place for the first time. He loved the romantic, dark wallpaper and the teak floors. ‘I want to live here!’ he cried, which made us both laugh.

He soon turned the somber apartment into a home, dragging in bunches of flowers and putting them in Auntie’s crystal vases and spraying lavender or verbena scent onto the musty blankets.

We found a gramophone and some old records in a closet, and so we had music when we sat on the floor talking, smoking and sipping bourbon.

And, good God, his years of training as a boy scout and a soldier had made him into a chef. He fried steaks, sautéed potatoes in olive oil and garlic and whipped up the most extravagant salad dressings with fresh herbs, Dijon mustard and many things more. I provided the wine.

We dined on the floor using an old curtain for a tablecloth. The ceiling lights still worked, but he would never turn them on, also because he understood that no one should see from outside that this place was frequently used. He stuffed candles into empty bottles and lit them.

We were a couple in love, feeding one another tidbits and kissing every minute, with me pumping wine from my mouth into his and receiving dollops of chewed potato or haricots verts in return.

[nagaficat]

[ Dandelion ]

He’d taken his chances and calculated wisely.

After all, dandelions were soft to the touch at normal size– was he to expect otherwise simply because he’d been shrunken?

(That would be foolish. Obviously, he could expect more comfort resting atop one whilst the size of an ant.)

Linhardt was quite stellar at math. That said, when it came to comfortable naps, he was more likely than normal to skew the numbers.

That��s how he was one moment atop a dandelion asleep and the next on the ground, wondering where in the world he was. Lucky for him, in this state of confusion and disorientation, there was... (He blinks.)

...Professor Deirdre.

“Oh...” Another moment passes before he calls out, “Hello Professor. Mind helping me up?”

// (i have no idea if deirdre still needs this but I AM A MAN OF MY WORD!!!!!)

Deirdre rushes to Linhardt's side the moment she sees the stem of the dandelion begin to bow and a person roll out onto the grass. She is used to finding him asleep in unusual places but he could be hurt!

Fortunately, he seems quite calm as he wakes. She reaches her hand down to help him up, allowing their vine collars to bloom with new flowers, and gives him a glance over to check for any injury. He seems to be alright but her brow still creases with worry.

"My lord, are you alright? I am sure we can find you someplace safer to rest. There is a fairy ring not too far away that seems to be rather quiet. And I am sure the mice would not mind if I borrowed a clean tablecloth for you to use as a blanket. Would you like me to walk with you?"

[moira-shears]

In the Arms of her Hero

On a rare day that neither Cloud nor Tifa was working, and the crack of dawn was upon her, Tifa began to feel tired as she cleaned the bar with a tablecloth. Not only that, but she started to feel a little warm as well, but thought little of it and went back to work immediately. Before putting the cloth down, she felt a pair of large, strong arms gently curl around her abdomen. Looking up, she saw that the one holding her was also the one to whom her heart belonged, the man who loved her more than life itself, her husband, Cloud Strife.

It took Tifa a moment to process what was going on before she surrendered to Cloud’s loving kiss and relaxed in his arms. She did this by leaning back into him whilst his body warmth cascaded around her like a childhood blanket on a cold night. It was then that Cloud’s grip on her slightly tightened before he reached one hand up to her forehead.

“Tifa, you're burning up,” Cloud said, his voice filled with worry, “Why don’t you lie down a little?”

“Cloud, I feel fine,” Tifa said, “Just a little achy, that’s all,”

“Are you sure?” Cloud asked, “You’ve been working way too hard lately, are you sure you aren’t sick from the stress of all of it?”

“Alright, I feel a little tired as well,” Tifa admitted, “I think it’s the kids’ flu.”

“Oh, I’ll take a lie down with you,” Cloud said, stroking her warm cheek softly. Cloud walked Tifa into the living room where they quietly sat on the couch, with some pillows and a blanket. There Cloud quietly held Tifa in his arms and let her rest her head on his chest. As he stroked her back more, she gave a smile and nuzzled further in his arms.

“Would you like me to get you something?” Cloud asked.

“Some Wutaian green tea, please,” Tifa said. Cloud only gave a nod before he kissed Tifa’s forehead and got up into the kitchen where the kettle was boiled and two cups were laid out, with the bags in place. After pouring them, Cloud quickly got himself some cereal which he ate quickly before discarding the bags from the mugs.

Cloud sat on the couch with Tifa after passing her a cup. Together they both drank and watched the morning news on television, on which someone interviewed a physician about the current outbreak of the seasonal flu which, according to the physician, wasn’t anything to be alarmed about. Common symptoms of this flu consisted of mostly the typical symptoms, with some occasional nausea in adults, and lasted up to two weeks in some cases. Recommendations from the physician included that the patient not be involved in an activity too stressful and take time to get plenty of rest, and have medicine and warm drinks and meals.

“Tifa, I think it’s best you take a break for a while,” Cloud said, “At least until you get better…”

“Cloud, I…” Tifa hesitated for a long while before giving in to Cloud’s plea, “Yeah, you’re right. I could pass it on to someone else. What about you, Cloud?”

“I’ll reduce deliveries,” Cloud said, “I’ll only do ones on this continent.”

“Cloud, are you sure?” Tifa asked.

Cloud silently nodded and switched to a different channel. The channel however was changed again immediately due to a program showing an explicit surgery on the abdomen, one which neither appealed to Cloud nor Tifa.

They then switched to the kid's channel which was playing a funny old puppet movie about a moogle knight who embarked on an epic quest on his noble chocobo, Choco to save his princess Luna from the fire-breathing dragon that guarded the tower. Cloud and Tifa both laughed at this whilst feelings of nostalgia flooded their minds. Bravely, Sir Mog raised his sword against the dragon and faced him. With one slash, the dragon screamed dramatically before it fell, and Mog ran up the tower to the chambers of Princess Luna. With a kiss to show his love for the princess, the two were married a frame later and they lived happily ever after. Cloud and Tifa were laughing the entire time.

“I didn’t expect them to be playing something as old as Sir Mog and Choco’s Quest,” Tifa laughed, “It really brings back memories.”

Cloud nodded in agreement, “I believe I had the DVD for it back in the day. I wonder if we still have it… Maybe we could get the kids to watch it themselves.”

“Don’t you think they’re a bit old for it?” Tifa asked.

“Tifa…” Cloud said, “We’re in our twenties, aren’t we? Why were we still watching it?”

Tifa laughed, “Cloud, I was only joking,” she said. Cloud laugh himself before they once again changed the channel to a relaxing nature documentary. In it, the narrator spoke with a soft, kindhearted voice as he spoke about a pair of giant Waitain tortoises to the viewer. Both husband and wife were hooked onto this channel and continued to watch the endeavours of the tortoises unfold. The presenter reminded Tifa of her master Zangan in a way, with a similar personality and way of speaking. Eventually, when the presenter went on to a different animal, Cloud and Tifa both felt a sense of warmth inside themselves. The tortoises had found their way back to their family and thus were reunited.

“That was a lovely ending,” Cloud said, before not getting a response, “Tifa…?”

In his arms, Tifa who had finished her tea lay asleep in Cloud’s arms, breathing softly. After turning the television off, Cloud held Tifa closer before he picked her up in his arms, the same way he had many times before and carried her upstairs to their bedroom. There, he moved aside a sheet before laying Tifa down and tucking her in. Before leaving, Cloud kissed Tifa on the forehead and gave her a word of affirmation.

“Tifa, I’ll love you no matter what,” Cloud said before kissing her head again.

Whilst Tifa rested, Cloud sped down to the shops where he picked up some medicine for Tifa as well as the supplies needed. When he arrived and put them down on the table, Cloud gathered some cold and flu tablets which he brought up with a glass of water.

In their room, Tifa had only just called out Cloud’s name before she’d summoned him in. As her husband sat next to her, he passed the tablets and water. She quickly gulped down with a ‘thank you’ for Cloud, as well as another kiss.

“I was out shopping,” Cloud said, “These should make you feel better,”

“Thank you again, Cloud,” Tifa said. Suddenly, without apparent reason, Tifa started to cry, causing Cloud to hug and soothe her.

“There, Tifa,” Cloud said, “I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to have lunch?”

Tifa shook her head and Cloud briefly got up to grab a book before he sat down again. Holding Tifa he held the book wide open, but, before Cloud could read a word from it, Tifa started to shiver, causing Cloud to kick off his shoes and get under the blanket with her.

“Better?” Cloud asked. Tifa nodded with a small sigh, as she made herself comfortable in Cloud’s strong arms. Before he started to read to her, Cloud gave Tifa a small pat behind her neck and ears. Whilst he read, Cloud’s voice gave off a low, soothing tone which Tifa almost felt as he read the story of a dark knight who had just been fired from his position as captain of his fleet after questioning his king’s orders, recently carried out. This man reminded Cloud of himself, for the knight also had a childhood friend named after a flower. The man, however, could never love her due to his status as a dark knight. It was a tragic beginning, Cloud and Tifa both thought, and it would only become more tragic from there when the knight tried to redeem himself for the king, by burning down a nearby village. Eventually, when the chapter ended, Cloud found Tifa asleep in his arms, breathing quietly. Having woken up early himself, Cloud too began to sleep, the book set aside. His free hand joined around Tifa, causing her to snuggle closer, and Cloud relaxed.

Quietly, they both slept, though Cloud could feel Tifa’s warm body growing hotter, yet she shivered still. They held that position for a long time until eventually, a knock came on the door. Cloud did not get up to answer, instead, the door opened from the other side.

“Good morning, Cloud, good morning, Tifa,” Marlene said, “Why are you both dressed?”

Cloud lazily woke up and saw Marlene looking up at him with her cute gaze.

“Good morning, Marlene,” he said, “We both got up earlier, but went back to bed. Tifa’s not feeling well, she thinks it was the flu you had. How are you doing this morning?”

“I’m all better!” Marlene said, “When are you two going to get up?”

“Whenever Tifa’s up for it,” Cloud said, “Oh, and by the way, we’d watched a film called Sir Mog and Choco’s Quest. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Yes, I love that movie!” Marlene said, enthusiastically, “I watched it at Daddy’s place once.”

“It was on this morning,” Cloud said, “We thought you and Denzel might like it.”

After this encounter, Marlene quietly left the room and Cloud was left with a sleeping Tifa, whose cheek he gently caressed before he slept again.

Waking again, Cloud looked down to see that his wife was still asleep before fluttering her eyes open and bringing her hand up to her husband’s cheek. There, the couple kissed again before this time, they both got themselves out of bed and downstairs where they went about their day and had lunch together.

That night, though Tifa still cooked dinner, it was only a light one. When they went to sleep that night, though Cloud did not read to her, he held her gently in his arms before giving her a kiss goodnight. It was not a good sleep for Tifa, however. She woke up at three in the morning with a cough. This woke Cloud up, and as he saw her cough, he stroked her cheek and cuddled her.

“Tifa, let me get you some medicine,” Cloud said, “I’ll only be a minute.”

Cloud gave his wife a kiss before he got up and went downstairs. He came back up with a pair of tablets and a glass of water and Tifa thanked Cloud. After a gulp of both pills and water, the couple went back to sleep again. Tifa slept only a couple hours more before waking up with a cry and shiver. Once again, Cloud put his arms around her and gave her back a pat, before shushing her off to sleep again.

In her heart, Tifa felt for sure of one thing: Cloud would protect her from anything; their promise made underneath the starry night sky was one that knew no boundaries, not even sickness. Cloud was more than a husband to Tifa, he was her hero, ever since their night under the stars, and his heart that beat for her only reinforced that statement. Eventually, she was calm enough to sleep again, and his body warmth comforted her.

Eventually, she gave up on sleeping after seven and made her way down to the bar where she had some cereal. She ate slowly due to her sickness numbing her hunger, however. A loud cough was what summoned Cloud to her side, and joined her. There, they drank some Wutaian green tea, before Cloud stood up again.

“Tifa, I’ll be going in a few minutes,” Cloud said, “Rember on the news. The physician advised against stressful activities.”

“Alright, Cloud,” Tifa said, “Let me just make you something.”

“Thank you, Tifa,” Cloud said, kissing his wife’s cheek. After having a meal made, Cloud drove away on Fenrir, and Tifa was left by herself for the day, sorting out ingredients for the menu and throwing out food that had expired. Her symptoms began to worsen, with more frequent coughing and sneezing, as well as muscle aches. Her skin was more sensitive too, and when Marlene tried to hug her, she started to ache as soon as her daughter touched her. Together with Denzel, Marlene soon left the bar to go to school, and Tifa could relax. The day was nothing but a bore for the fighter who did nothing but watch television until she received a text message from Yuffie.

‘Hey, Tifa! Cloud’s in Wutai at the moment - told me you were sick, that sucks! But hey, don’t worry, I’m an expert! I was a nurse who treated patients in Wutai with geostigma, did you know? Anyway, Cloud stopped by my place and I made him something to give to you. You may need to heat it up in the microwave when he gets home, but it should do the trick. Oh, and I’m glad you liked that tea I gave you.’

Before Tifa could reply, there was another message: ‘P.S. I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer!’ from it, Tifa cancelled her reply and instead sent her a simple thank you. This acted as a reminder to Tifa to take her medicine with a glass of water. After this, she opted out of lunch, due to her loss of appetite. At around three, not only did Marlene and Denzel come back, but also Cloud who led the children inside and kissed his wife’s lips.

“Cloud, I thought you were only going around Edge!” Tifa said, “What were you doing in Wutai? And what’s that in your hand?”

“Yuffie gave me something that would make you feel better,” Cloud said, “Here!”

Cloud passed Tifa a warm thermos with a spoon, and lead her to the couch. When opening the container, a cloud of steam was emitted and flew up into Tifa’s nostrils, giving off the distinct smell of chicken soup, a welcoming scent to Tifa.

“Smells good,” Tifa said, “Did Yuffie make this all by herself?”

“I helped a little,” Cloud said, “I was surprised to learn that Yuffie could cook. This should help your symptoms a little bit. I’ll just be upstairs for a minute.”

Again, Cloud kissed Tifa on the head, whilst Tifa was left to drink Yuffie’s chicken soup, which hadn’t lost its hot temperature. Tifa again ate slowly, though she’d taken such favour in the taste, that it seemed too good to go to waste. Cloud came back down with the book in hand and pulled Tifa onto his lap.

After finishing her late lunch, Tifa leaned into Cloud who continued to read the book. In chapter two, it turned out that one of the beasts killed by the dark knight in the village was the mother of a little girl, around Marlene’s age. Though initially rebellious, she eventually joined the dark knight’s journey, whilst his friend, a dragoon, left. Eventually, they came to a village in the desert where it was discovered that the woman the dark knight loved had tried to follow him and ended up getting sick with desert fever. With the help of some new friends, the dark knight went off in search of a cure for the dreaded disease, and in a cave, he did. Once administered, the woman was better in minutes. The chapter ended with the woman joining the dark knight’s quest to the next kingdom. After this, Cloud marked the book and put it aside, to turn his focus to holding Tifa in his arms.

“They’re just like us…” Tifa said with some tiredness and coughing in her speech.

“Who…?” Cloud asked.

“Cecil and Rosa,” Tifa said.

“Y-yeah!” Cloud said, “They really are.”

“I love you, Cloud,” Tifa said.

With a returned confession, Cloud gave Tifa a kiss on the lips before she gave out a deep breath, relaxed into Cloud’s arms, and closed her eyes. Cloud cuddled Tifa closer and kissed her head again. A second confession offered no response from Tifa, and Cloud laid down with her, knowing that she'd always feel safe in the arms of her hero.

[christas-museum]

The Child Manuela: Mädchen in Uniform book (new translation)

CHAPTER 1: IV

For more parts (updates are at least once a week), click #The Child Manuela translation

At lunch, it is very quiet today. Ali and Berti spoon their soup in silence. Dad doesn't speak a word, and Ali looks distraughtly at mother. She tries to be usual self, but her lower lip is trembling, and she doesn't eat. Lela has a vague feeling as if she were guilty, as if she has done something wrong. It was so beautiful, but maybe one doesn't allowed to do it? Maybe it's something similar to the Catholic Church? Silently she goes upstairs and doesn't dare—as Alfred does—to hug her Mum, after Dad has slammed the door behind him.

Lela goes to Laura. Laura is her dove. She sticks her little nose into the wings and kisses Laura on the neck where she has a little black ring of feathers. Laura's red clawed feet clings to her little fingers, Laura's feathers smell so lukewarm and good.

"Laura, I love you so much!" She says softly, and a big tear rolls down on the feathers. Something is written on most of plates.

Lela has a cloth in her hand and a blue apron, and so does Mum, and the whole table is full of silver. Candlesticks that one can screw together and take apart, plates with funny edges. Many, many forks and knives. But Lela shouldn't touch them. She has a silver bread basket in front of her that has a very thin grid all around, so her little fingers can get inside and clean. Something is written on most of the plates. For example, Our dear Meinhardis as a farewell to his regiment, or, First prize in flat racing. Memorial race of Ziethen. And a date. From one Mum reads out, "To my dear Kammerkatze." — "Mum, what does that 'Kammerkatze' mean?"

"Kammerkatze? That was a horse, a very good horse. But Dad sold him."

"Why, Mum?"

"Because Dad can't have that many horses."

"Why can't he have that many horses?"

"Because it costs too much. They eat too much."

"They just eat oats, Mum."

"Oh, little one, you don't understand!" And a deep sigh escapes from Mum's chest.

Lela feels that she should not ask any more questions. Quietly, she cleans the little basket. Then comes something else. "We must open the table," Mum says, and everybody always has to help. There the dining table is grabbed and simply pulled apart in two directions. Lela moves along, and Flink barks. Flink is a brown dog of an indeterminate breed, who likes to have a say when something special is happening, and today is so special; because guests are coming.

Many boards are inserted between the torn apart table parts, they are supported from below, and Lela and Flink crawl under the table where it's dark and check to see if everything's right, and then a green felt blanket comes over it, and then a huge long damask tablecloth.

Mum goes with Lela to the linen cupboard. Lela watches attentively as Mum's hands count the high stacks of napkins. Mum has long, very white fingers; Lela likes her hands so much. When Mum's hand gets lost on my head now and then, she thinks, or between my dress and my neck; it's so good with Mum! Papa does that sometimes too, but it just tickles. It's terrible, Lela continues to think, looking up at her mother from below, that Mum always does her hair so smooth in the morning. When the hair is a little loose and curled, Mum looks much prettier, and then sometimes visitors come, and the visitors see Mum with her tight, tight hairstyle, and it's so bad that Lela hides, as if she herself doesn't have a good haircut. But at the moment, Mum has no time for Lela. Lela has to carry napkins. Now it clinks. Mum is at the sideboard—she takes out one crystal bowl after the other. Lela is allowed to wipe them out, and then Mum opens compote jars, and thick green fruits are poured into the glistening bowls. It doesn't look so funny from above, but from the side, where the glass is cut. And now little yellow plums and red cherries in another one, and black nuts into the next. One at a time, they are placed on the table. Now comes the fruit bowl; Lela is allowed to open the bags. Oranges, grapes, apples, nuts, almonds, dates, just like on Christmas.

"Mum, why do we only have this for guests and never for ourselves?"

"Because we are poor people, child."

Lela is silent. How sad that is, she thinks, that we are poor people. But why are we poor? Dad has horses; poor people don't have horses. Mum has ball gowns; poor women don't have ball gowns. And we also have silver, and many tablecloths, and a butler.

"Mum, do poor people always have a servant?"

"You are a little silly one, my darling. You don't understand."

[lesbianjackies]

Almost Normal

February Prompt #4: Dinner Date

Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,011

Warnings: Mentions of food and eating, but other than that, none! It's very fluffy :)

Summary: Remus feels you deserve a "normal" relationship, so James, Sirius, and Peter decide to do their best to make it feel almost normal.

A/N: My first Remus Lupin fic!! Let me know what you think!!

Remus Lupin wanted nothing more than to be normal. Well, normal by wizard standards, at least. He wanted the scars to go away, the years he’d aged to go back in time, and most of all, he wanted to stay human during a full moon. He wanted this for himself, of course, but he also wanted it for you. You were perfect, in his eyes, and he was… not. You were smart and pretty and kind and bubbly and creative and amazing, and he was a monster.

“What’re you wallowing about, Moony?” Sirius slung an arm around his shoulder.

Remus slunk away from him. “Nothing,” he muttered.

“C’mon, Moony,” James joined in. “You’re a rubbish liar.”

Remus scowled.

“He’s looking at (Y/N),” Peter noticed.

“Trouble in paradise?” James teased.

“Oh, don’t tease him, Padfoot,” Sirius said, his tone equally mocking. “He’s just wondering how he scored her.” He nudged Remus. “Isn’t that right, Moony?”

“Basically,” Remus mumbled.

“Oh, come on, Moony.” James changed his tone. “We were just taking the piss, mate.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “You and (Y/N) are great together.”

“Whatever.” Remus buried his face in his book.

“What do you mean, ‘whatever’?” Sirius said. “You can’t really be insecure about your relationship.”

Remus slammed the book down. “What do you mean!? I don’t deserve her and you all know it. I know it. She’s- she’s amazing, and I’m…” He lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Come on, mate,” James tried to console him. “She doesn’t care about that.”

“Well, she should. What if I accidentally hurt her? Or- or kill her?” Remus sighed. “I wish I could just be normal. She deserves that. A normal boyfriend - a normal relationship.”

“What even is a normal relationship?” Sirius said. “Do you really think James and Lily have a ‘normal relationship’?”

“It’s more normal than me,” Remus argued. “James isn’t- James isn’t like me.”

James sighed. “Look. You’re not gonna have a normal relationship. But if it would really make you feel better, we can do our best to make it feel… almost normal.”

Remus frowned, looking up at his friends. “What do you mean, ‘almost normal’?”

“Take her on dates,” Sirius suggested.

“Normal dates,” Peter added.

“What does that even mean!?” Remus asked, exasperated.

“Go out to dinner,” James said. “That’s like, the most normal date ever, right?”

“I guess…” Remus said uncertainly. “I don’t really think this is gonna fix anything, though.”

“But it might,” Sirius said. He helped him up. “C’mon, it’s worth a try, right? You said you wanted a normal relationship.”

“Yeah, but I meant more like - “

“Let’s go,” James interrupted him. “We have a dinner date to plan.”

James, Sirius, and Peter set to work immediately. They cleaned the dorm, set up a table, and put a nice blanket that could serve as a tablecloth over it. Sirius then snuck into the kitchens while James and Peter set the table and put a pretty vase of roses in the center. Sirius came back with far more food than was needed - he insisted they needed snacks after their hard work.

“So, what do you think?” James asked after they finished.

“It’s really nice,” Remus said. “I just don’t think - “

A knock sounded on the door before he could finish his sentence. “Remus? Sirius said you needed me.”

“She’s already here!?” Remus hissed.

James and Sirius smiled devilishly and apparated away. Peter smiled apologetically and disappeared after them. Remus stared at the empty space his friends had previously occupied in horror.

“Remus?” you said. “Are you in there?”

“Uh, yeah, love!” Remus opened the door and smiled at you awkwardly.

You stepped in and gasped. “Did you do this, Remus?”

“Um…”

“Doesn’t seem like the kind of date you would want to go on,” you commented with a teasing smile. “You normally just want to read or study together in the library.”

“Yeah, well, um…” Remus flapped his hands uncomfortably. “Have a seat?” He pulled out a chair and it promptly fell over. He cringed.

You laughed. “You didn’t set this up, did you?”

“I- um- “ He frantically looked around the room as if searching for a way to escape.

“Remus.” You walked over to him. “I know you. Sirius and James set this up, didn’t they?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he looked down in defeat. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Why’d they plan this?” you asked. “I mean, it’s really nice, but it’s definitely not our style.”

Remus laughed, a little relieved. Then he remembered why they set up the dinner date and sobered immediately. “I… I was upset because I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I kept saying that you deserved a normal boyfriend and a normal relationship and they thought this would help. They said a dinner date was the most normal relationship thing ever, so they set it all up. I’m sorry. You really do deserve better than a werewolf for a boyfriend, and no dumb dinner date is ever gonna change that.”

“Oh, Remus.” You pulled him into a hug and he buried his face in your neck. “I love you, okay? Lycanthropy and all. I don’t want a normal boyfriend or a normal relationship. I want you. You are the most incredible person I’ve ever met - you’re sweet and smart and caring and I love you so much. Don’t ever think of yourself as anything less than that, okay?”

Tears slipped down from his eyes, soaking your sweater, and he hugged you even more tightly. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

You kissed his head, releasing the hug and taking his hand instead. “Now, we’re not really gonna let all this food go to waste, are we?”

He let out a watery laugh, wiping away his tears. “Definitely not.”

The two of you sat down at the table, and as you ate and talked and laughed, Remus knew that your relationship would never be normal. Maybe not even almost normal. But it was perfect, and he loved it just the way it was.