#the thought of myself being happy doesn’t feel normal.

[finalhaunts]

Siigghh

[bixels]

hey um. u sure make a lot of art about lesbians for a man. you're normal about us, right? ;;

What? Yeah, I’m normal about y’all.

[amochi]

I know I’ve been very “fuck this capitalist hellscape” lately in just about every way but I feel like since getting out of college and going into a full time job I just seriously cannot wrap my mind around how the collective society think it’s normal to spend most of our lives working or committing to the grind. We’re only on this earth for one life and you want me to spend it sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day just to pay for groceries when there’s things out there we only ever dream of seeing. The moon literally pulls the tides and you want me to sit at a desk, be for real

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I���yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

[bookshelf-dust]

baby love, my baby love

gif by @corrodedcherry

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 1,880

warnings: swearing, reader had a not so good day, some hair washing, reader is nude in a non-sexual way, casual intimacy, lots of lovey-dovey things

a/n: hello! i am still very tentatively getting back into writing, but i wanted to write something sweet and comforting and soft and all those things. and eddie is the best provider of all that. this is so cute i almost made myself nauseous. lemme know what you think!! happy reading!!! <333 lots of love

————

“Where’s my girl at?”

Eddie’s voice rings throughout your small apartment, echoing slightly due to it not being fully furnished. His tone is almost giddy, words taking on a little twang after having spent the day working with Wayne. 

You bury your face deeper into your pillow, fighting a smile at the way he speaks to you. From your place on the bed, you hear his keys smack the wall as he hangs them up, hear his boots thudding across the kitchen tiles as he makes his way to you. 

When Eddie appears in the doorway to your shared bedroom, his arms are raised, fingers working to quickly tie his hair up in a knot. His biceps flex with the movement, drawing your eye to his pale skin. A brilliant smile spreads across his face upon seeing you. 

“Hey, bug,” he says.

You flush. You never thought you’d allow someone to call you love bug, let alone any variation of it. You certainly didn’t think you’d like it. It’s who’s saying it that’s converted you.

You’re laying on your stomach, hands crushed under your cheek. You try to smile back at him, but it comes out much less enthusiastic than normal. It’s a very tired gesture. 

Eddie notices, kicking off his shoes and crouching before you. “What’s the matter sweet girl? You’re wearing your outside clothes still, and you look pretty pitiful.”

At least he’s honest.

You blink and let your eyes flutter shut. “Long day. Headache. Upset.”

He brings his hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your temples. “Oh, I’m sorry, bug. I know you just wanna feel all better. Is that it?”

You nod, eyes still closed. He starts to laugh playfully just because of how pitiful you really do look, at how small and scrunched up you’ve made yourself. When he kisses your cheek, you feel his smile against your skin. It makes you beam, despite how you feel. The tingle Eddie’s lips leave behind makes it seem like the first time no matter how long it's been. You’re all soft for him, and there’s no denying it. But hell, he’s the same way. 

“How about…” he trails off, rubbing the tips of his fingers up and down your spine, tickling your lower back where your sweater has ridden up. “How about I take care of you? Run you a bath, for starters? I know you like that.”

Your eyes open, happy to think about how nice it would feel to sink your tired body into a hot basin full of bubbles. “Okay, Teddy.”

“Yeah? C’mere then,” Eddie says gently, holding his hands out to encourage you to sit up. You slowly push yourself away from the mattress, and he easily pulls you to stand. “I’ll get the water warmed up for you.” 

You give him a poor little salute, making him laugh, and then stick your fingers through his belt loop so you don’t have to do as much on the short walk to the bathroom. When you get there, Eddie bends to cut the water on and push the drain plug down. You wrap your arms around his waist and fold yourself against his warm back. You close your eyes once again, hearing him squirt a hefty amount of bubble bath into the tub. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t flood the bathroom.

The plastic top clicks shut and Eddie rises, grabbing hold of your hands and spinning around in your grip. 

“Don’t like seein’ you all drained, baby,” he says. Eddie’s hands cradle your face, long and pale fingers beginning to rub at your temples. It feels so nice to have that pressure be pushed away, to feel his body so close to yours. At this rate, you’ll forget you even had a headache. 

“Wanna tell me about it?” Eddie asks. “Or do you just want to have a chill night?”

You open your eyes and push up on your toes to kiss his nose. “The latter,” you say. 

He chuckles, knowing you never used that term until you started reading Jane Austen. 

“M’kay, bug. That works for me.” His eyes twinkle mischievously. “You want a kiss? I think you deserve a good one.”

That gets you to practically melt. I fucking love this woman, Eddie thinks. He feels breathless each time you look at him that way. You look at him like he hung the stars, like he is your knight in shining armor. He kisses you in that way that thanks you for making him feel so loved. So cherished.

You thread your hands in Eddie’s hair, fingers pulling at the chunk at the nape of his neck where it’s most sensitive. His mouth is warm against yours. He smiles at your playfulness, breaking away to kiss both cheeks. 

He bends and drags a finger through the water. “It’ll be plenty warm enough in a second, bug.”

You give him a tired thank you squeeze as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“Need help undressing?” he inquires, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. 

You gently backhand his stomach, watching as he feigns severe injury. “Perv,” you joke. 

Eddie sits down on the toilet seat lid so that he can be prepared to turn the water off when he deems the tub full enough for you. Really he’d just like to see you surrounded by a huge pile of bubbles for his own amusement, but also because he knows it’ll be the thing to coax that pure, joyous laugh out of you. The sound he’d bottle and keep on his nightstand if he could.

You remove the little bit of makeup you’d been wearing with a cotton pad, sighing in relief to have it all off. You take out your earrings and slip off your rings, setting them in an ashtray on the counter you’ve been repurposing ever since Eddie decided to cut back on his smoking.

You take off each of your socks, one hand gripping the countertop for balance. As you slip your belt off, Eddie finishes preparing your bath and turns to face you. He holds his arms out, ready to collect your dirty clothes and accessories so that he can put them in their rightful places. 

He takes your belt from you only to be cheeky, snapping the thick leather as loud as he can manage. He makes himself laugh. 

You turn to the side when you unbutton your jeans, flushing and shy at his attention even after all this time. Even knowing how beautiful he finds your body. How much he loves how soft you are. After all, your body allows you to live. It allows you to spend time with him, and that is all he’ll ever ask for. It doesn’t matter to him what state your body is in because it is yours. And you are his. 

Eddie smiles watching you shimmy out of your snug jeans. You hand him your pants and t-shirt, now only in your bra and underwear. You don’t give yourself the time to be self-conscious, longing for the hot bath water. You turn and quickly unclasp your bra. Eddie playfully flicks your bum. It always deserves appreciation in his eyes. 

When you hand him the last of your items, he presses the sweetest kiss to your tummy, thumbs rubbing at the indentations left on your chest from your bras underwire, as if he can make them go away just by sheer will. 

“I love you, bug,” Eddie says, looking up at you with those watery doe eyes. His kisses your stomach again.

“I love you same, Teddy. Now let me take my bath. It’s rather chilly in this house, don’t you think? I refuse to freeze.”

Eddie laughs to himself as he walks off, taking your clothes to the hamper and storing your bra and belt elsewhere. He never could’ve imagined a world where preparing a bath for his partner would make him as happy as it does. 

————

Eddie is kneeling on the bathroom floor. Your back is pressed against the side of the tub, and he’s washing your hair. Well, really he’s already given it the scrub and cleanse that it needed, now he’s just trying to make weird shapes out of it. 

After you’d sat in the warm water until your toes pruned without actually bathing, he jokingly offered to do your hair while you washed your body. 

You hadn’t even thought about it. You were enjoying the way the bubbles came up to your chin, the way you were completely encapsulated in the safety of them. The way Eddie sat there on the rug, telling you about his day. About the different things he’d fixed on which cars—nothing you understood in any fashion, but something you always wanted to hear about.

“You could make good money doing this, you know. You’re very talented,” you quip, scrubbing your calf with a washcloth. 

Eddie snorts, kissing your wet shoulder blade. “What? Give head massages?”

You ring out your rag, having completed your washing ritual and made sure everything got the attention it deserves. 

“Mhm. That felt so good.” 

You pull the drain plug up, letting the water out. Eddie stands and acts as though his back is going to give out on him. You quickly turn the shower on, just so you can make sure you got all the conditioner out of your hair and feel completely clean. Eddie has never done this rinsing routine after a bath, but loves to see you do your little happy dance when you’re all clean and wrapped up in a towel.

He holds out a hand as you step over the rim of the tub, bowing for added effect. “How was your bath, m’lady?”

You lead the way out of the bathroom, on a search for pajamas. “I’d say it was the best bath I’ve ever had the pleasure of taking, good sir.”

You hug your fuzzy towel to your chest, pushing up on your tiptoes to kiss Eddie’s full lips. He blushes at the eye contact you’re giving him. He knows how it makes you nervous, but getting to have all of your attention like that makes him tingly.

“Thank you for helping me, Teddy.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” 

You turn to the side, gripping a round, wooden handle and pulling open your top dresser drawer. Eddie kisses your cheek. Sometimes you think Eddie’s kisses are lifesaving. They’ve surely contributed to your stability. They’re healing. And so is the way he cares for the people he loves. The way he so effortlessly does things just because he only wants to see you happy.

Eddie ends up picking out your pajamas while you pick out his. You’re in your own bottoms, but one of his Iron Maiden t-shirts. You told him you should match, so he pointed you in the direction of another, and you made sure to choose pants for him that had red in them, just like yours. 

Before you can sit down on your shared bed, Eddie takes your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear. His chin brushes your jaw, lips parting in a bright grin before the words ever leave his mouth. 

“Now, what do you think about going to get milkshakes?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[glindyupland]

.

[sturniololoco]

this might sound weird but her me out.

could you do one where like reader is matt(or chris’s) gf but the boys have a younger sister (like sls) and when the sister goes to stay with the boys her favourite is always gf and she tells all her troubles and feelings to her when she’s missing her mom and dad

i completely understand if this doesn’t make sense but the idea came to me randomly xx

Home Sick

Matt Sturniolo x fem! Reader

Warnings: kissing, cuddling, crying, home sickness, etc.

⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙

Y/N’s POV

My boyfriend, Matt, has been on the phone with his little sister the entire way to the airport.

This is her first time flying by herself and she just got off the plane so Matt is trying to walk her through it.

Chris and Nick have been talking excitedly about the plans they have made for her while they got their vlog camera ready.

I however, was nurvously picking at my nails, wondering what their sister will be like.

Will she like me?

I was pulled from my thoughts as I felt a hand on my thigh.

“Stop worrying baby. It’s gonna be fine.” He says in a low tone.

I smile and hold his hand, praying that he’s right.

-

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as cute as Matt’s little sister sprinting into his outstretched arms.

Normally, he would call this cringy behavior, but I know he's so happy to see her, that he secretly enjoys it.

She does the same to Chris and Nick, somehow showing all of her love for them in one tight squeeze.

Then she came over to me.

I was shocked when she wrapped her small frame around me, hugging me tight.

I looked up at Matt, giving him the Are you seeing how cute this is? look.

He smiles back at me proudly while grabbing his little sister's bags.

Pulling away, but still holding my hand, she pulls me with her to the car behind her brothers.

-

To celebrate the little sister's safe journey across the country, we indulged in a pizza movie night for the occasion.

I was snuggled into Matt's side on the end of the couch, and both of us snuggled into a blanket while we held hands.

Matt's sister was on his right, leaning into Chris on her other side.

It was safe to say that the siblings had a very close relationship, just judging by how they cuddled close together on the couch.

-

At the end of the movie, Nick stood grabbed our plates, and started to clean up. Just as Matt and I were about to do the same, Chris began tickling his little sister with no mercy.

Matt was quick to join in, the trio laughing as her brothers held her down.

Once they gave in, she was half upside down and breathing heavily, smacking her brothers on the leg as they walked away to go and help Nick.

"You ready for bed, baby?" Matt asked me, seeing me yawn from m spot on the island.

I nodded and stood, giving everyone a quick goodnight hug.

But as I went to see their little sister, she was fast asleep in her spot on the couch.

Smiling lightly to myself, I called Chris over.

"You might wanna move her before she gets too comfy." I laughed as he scooped her up into his arms and whisked her off to bed.

I wasn't far behind, only I followed Matt, snuggling into his warmth as we lay down in his bed.

-

Who knew a light coming all the way from downstairs could be so annoying.

It was the middle of the night and got up to pee, but haven't been able to fall back into my slumber thanks to the obnoxious LED light coming from the kitchen.

Giving up on any more rest, I kept out of the room and made my way down the stairs, to be met with a sight I was not expecting.

The Sturniolo sister was there, scrolling on her phone as tears poured from her eyes onto her cheeks.

I hesitantly sat next to her, and when she tried to stop her tears, I pulled her in for a hug, only making her sob harder.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Do you need me to go get Matt?" I asked, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

She shook her head no and calmed herself, taking in a deep breath before saying,

"I just miss my brothers being at home so much. But I also miss not being with my mom and dad. I wish they could just come home with me." She said, sheepishly.

I gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Your brothers talk about you every day. They miss you just as much, but that's what makes these visits so special. You get to spend special time together." I said.

this seemed to cheer her up slightly. She sighed and smiled before leaning in and giving me a tight hug.

"Thank you," she mumbles into my shoulder.

"Any time kiddo. I'm always here, just as much as your brothers."

I feel so bad, this was so rushed! Lemme know if you want me to add more or redo it, or just do something simular. <3

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep @sturnolio-luvs @rubyjaneaxx @avatarloverlol @vickyzloserz @whoreforchrissturniolo @artloo123 @oliverstarksbae @heartzz4k @lily-strnlo @annalovesbooks-https @girlfriendvlogz @draculaura123

[bindeds]

╭ 𝜗𝜚﹔ᵎᵎ acknowledging his aromanticism & asexuality. ALASTOR X FEM READER HEADCANONS ! — i know alastor is aroace BUT i am challenging myself to make a more aroace friendly post about our best man. this post contains SLIGHT nsfw (he doesn’t take part in it physically and is quite unattached!)

gif creds go to @sakuhai !

mlist. request status.

since being aroace is a spectrum i’d like to imagine that with the life he led and the horrible things he did in hell, it was just never possible for him to fall for anyone and vice versa

but of course that all fell apart when you came along.

you had to be the one to open up about it first, and you know this from the way everyone was more aware of his sexuality than even he was. of course, if he were to, by some miracle, return your feelings, he would still be aroace considering the definition of those terms are ‘an individual who experiences little to no romantic or sexual attraction,’ but if anything that just meant that the chances of him even feeling anything for you is MUCH slimmer than compared to many others’.

but yes, come to think of it, even if Alastor had been invading your personal space the way he usually does with everyone in the hotel, he didn’t mind when you did the exact same for him, always leaning or touching his shoulders or pulling him along by the hand if you were excited to show him something. It was an odd feeling when he’d come to realize this during your confession.

“care to dance?” he would say, extending a gentle hand towards you right after your confession. you took it without much thought and slow music began to play seemingly from his mic, but it felt like the music had been hugging the both of you together as you swayed in tandem.

seeing as alastor was touch-repulsed, of course it puzzled you to have his hand so firm on your waist as the other held up your own, but then you realize something, and you asked to confirm it. “Did you like to dance like this when you were still alive?”

“Oh of course dear, I was quite the gentleman in my youth, but you already know that,” you followed his rhythm like you and him were one in the same, and he spun you around before having both your hands meet his own.

“will you give me time, darling?”

and of course, you were happy to give whatever time he needed. Though he didn’t need much because he’s simply never felt this way before. He’d come to terms with it quite early in his life that it’s simply not one of the ‘pleasures’ he’d get to experience in both his lifetime as a living being and as a demon. But he knew this was different. You felt different.

even more different than all the friends he had, and he was very aware of the fact that about 95% of his friends were women, and none of them came close to giving him the feeling you did with that dance and your general being, and alastor has danced with many, many women.

nonetheless, you picked a very difficult man to be with. very difficult indeed. he knew this, and you knew this. so as any normal man would he came back to you with what seemed to be his own terms and conditions.

1 : do not, under any circumstance, expect him to be open to sexual intimacy. he’s only just found out that he is, in fact, capable of experiencing romantic attraction even though it took dying and MANY years of being a heartless cannibal, sadist and murderer for him to find it, all of which contributes to just how overwhelming this is as it is. just thinking about the sexual aspect is something he’d rather not add to the juggle pile. 2 : he will be bad at this, and you’ve no choice but to accept that. he might have seen these types of things play out multiple times throughout both lifetimes, but theory and practice are two very different things, and it just doesn’t come naturally to him. So if you can’t be patient with him, he would completely understand and break it off immediately.

other than that, he will do anything in his power to make you happy. and of course, you agreed to these terms without hesitation and without shaking his hand—heavens, he couldn’t do that to you … unless you wanted him to own your soul.

seeing as you’ve had a long talk about your arrangement with him, he respectfully calls you his partner. you first thought that maybe he would want to start with dates first, but then he looked you in the eye and you remembered every single night he would just leave the hotel for you at 2am in the morning without notice, pick you up and grab the most horrendous food ever. alastor never even complained that you didn’t try freshly killed limbs and you never questioned him back. those were dates enough for you.

you ask him about his preferences anyway, and he says that one of the deciding factors for him was that you wouldn’t even be able to imagine the things he’d do to anyone who tried to have you if you two were in some sort of mutual agreement instead of an official relationship. of course, you had no problem with being his, so off you two went.

nothing much changed besides the much more frequent visits over at yours. but then also, a lot has changed because of the more frequent visits.

he tried normal food once for your sake, didn’t like it, wasn’t used to it, but he liked that he made you smile when he spat it out in the end. and on the contrary, he didn’t ask you to try cannibalism, and appreciated the fact that you’d gotten used to him eating in front of you with all the gore and flies laid out before the both of you.

another thing that changed was his oral hygiene. it was absolutely horrendous, but spending many evenings in your room and seeing you get ready for bed has alastor getting used to the ‘brushing teeth’ scene, so, like the food, he tries it for your sake. it wasn’t so bad, but it fixed basically nothing seeing as he eats nothing but raw meat and demon limbs for all three meals of the day. but, he did it every other day, and there was actually a lighter shade of yellow in his teeth by the end of the month.

he gets you flowers and your favorites every now and then for no reason at all. in his words, “it is absolutely absurd to be celebrating our very special relationship on just one day every year. and you don’t ask for much, so i thought i’d help myself to being the reason i get to see that radiant smile of yours, dove.”

he slept over at your place once. it wasn’t an active decision he’d made, it was just one of those nights when he came to visit and instead of leaving at the usual time, you asked him to stay and he did. you were in bed and talking to him about a book you had just gotten into and he made the mental note of reading it himself when he had the time. he saw how blissful you were in the sheets and took of his coat to settle next to you. the conversation was like any other he’d usually have with you, sprinkled in with sadistic jokes and laughter, but the night was different as he drifted off not long after you had.

if you ever had to get kicked out from your place for whatever reason, alastor would check you into the hazbin hotel, no questions asked despite how much of a bad idea it was. god, just the thought of others finding out made him grind his teeth.

he wasn’t ashamed of you by any means, but it was more of the fact that he knew no one would be normal about this. alastor, the radio demon has a heart after all. and that heart was you. and you were beating with beauty and blood and gentle patience he absolutely didn’t deserve. so he talked to you, and you understood the situation and agreed to be referred to as his friend.

if alastor ever does anything sexual with you, it would definitely be when he senses through little subtle hints that you’re pent up. he tries to ignore it for a while but he brings it up one day, asking if it would help if you masturbated while he was in the room. you were embarrassed, of course, but seeing as alastor was ace this was already a big step from him, so you accepted.

by this time, alastor would have visited you enough to have seen you naked once or twice, all by accident, but he didn’t have much of a reaction seeing as neither of you made physical contact with each other, you were okay with it and none of it had any sexual intentions behind it.

and so he watched you. he watched you with that devilish smile of his, and when you were sweating and panting and close, he walked towards you and held your chin up to him as you continued to get off towards your climax.

“are you thinking of me, my dear?” he whispered, his voice sounding more muffled as the stereo effect doubled. you were afraid to say yes. afraid that that was a boundary of his you were crossing. but then he says, “if anything gets you going, let it be me, my love.”

and of course, you came.

you asked if he was uncomfortable and he said, “heavens no, darling! i would never back out on my word, especially if it is one i gave to you. nothing is sacred, but every night, our bond whispers to be. so if there is a way help you with your sexual urges without making my skin crawl, then i am more than happy to oblige.”

[transmascissues]

12 weeks post-top surgery thoughts

most importantly, i’m absolutely fucking in love with how things look! it’s still not set in stone yet, my surgeon said i won’t really see the final result until up to a year after, but I’m so happy with it already.

my surgeon’s default timeline would’ve had me starting scar tape at 4 weeks, but i still haven’t started yet because some little scabs are still hanging around even though most of my scars are completely healed. my surgeon didn’t seem concerned about it taking longer than expected, she just said everyone’s body is different. given that i have a connective tissue disorder and skin that just hates being messed with at all, i’m not surprised that it’s been slow going and i’m just happy that the rest is healing so well. i just had another post-op today and was cleared to start using scar tape because the scabbing is so minimal at this point, so i can finally move on to the next stage of healing.

i can (mostly) lift my arms now! they still can’t quite go all the way up, but i have enough of my mobility back that the only things i really struggle with are super high shelves like the ones above my fridge, and things like the washer and dryer that i have to reach really far to get into. technically, i was supposed to wait six months before raising them because that’s what my surgeon usually recommends for aesthetic purposes, but i have to be able to raise them to do my job anyway so i’m not limiting myself beyond the natural limits of discomfort at this point.

my chest muscles are mostly back to normal too, but they’re still very sensitive. when i flex them, it doesn’t hurt or feel uncomfortable but i am a lot more aware of the feeling than i was before. they also still tire out more easily than they used to — i’m back at work now, and i’ve learned the hard way that i tend to favor one arm over the other for certain tasks because when i do any of them for too long, i start to feel it in that side of my chest. it’s not anything too bad, but i’m still making sure my shifts are spread out because i don’t want to risk overdoing it.

i’m getting used to touching my own chest, but being touched by other people still feels super weird and honestly uncomfortable at times, particularly when it’s my bare chest and not over my shirt. i’ve been touching it a lot to try to desensitize it since around week 3 or 4, and it seems to be working as far as my own touch, but other people is a whole other story — when my boyfriend is touching my bare chest and their hand touches the scars, it doesn’t actually hurt but i react to it like it does. i suspect it’s more of a mental thing than anything, that since i’m still instinctively protective of it and not quite used to how it feels, touches that i’m not in control of just automatically set off alarm bells. it’s also just a generally foreign feeling even without the weirdness of healing because my boyfriend never really touched my chest before surgery since i was dysphoric about it, so it seems to require desensitization on multiple levels. i’ve given them permission to keep touching it even when i flinch (unless i explicitly ask them to stop) because i want to make sure i start getting used to the feeling.

i’m also still very sensitive to pressure against my chest, especially the front of it. it’s getting easier to lie down on my side now but i’m still using my body pillow to take some pressure off of the scars under my armpits, because if i don’t i usually can only stay in that position for a little while. my boyfriend can mostly lay their head on my chest for short periods of time now, but the position matters because if the weight isn’t distributed evenly enough or if it’s on the wrong part of my chest, it hurts. that being said, less intense pressure on the front like a hug or holding something to my chest is pretty much fine, i’m just still more sensitive to it (as with everything). i’ve been able to lay face down on top of my boyfriend a couple times without discomfort too, but i’m still erring on the side of caution and not laying on my chest too much yet.

when i was around a month in and thought i would be starting scar care soon, i was really nervous about it — particularly about the scar massage — because of the state my chest was in. i still didn’t feel like i could press on it or move the skin around or pick it up with my fingers at all, and the scar tissue underneath was still really thick and firm. i assumed that all of that would stay the same until i did the massages to break down the scar tissue and loosen things up, but i can now confirm after another month and a half of doing nothing while things healed, my skin is naturally a lot more mobile and a lot of that really thick scar tissue has already broken down. obviously i’m still going to start massaging now because i want to give myself the best possible chance of healing well, but i wish i had known how much my chest would be able to bounce back on its own. in hindsight, i’m glad i ended up having to wait to start the massage instead of doing it back when my chest was much less healed, because i’m much more comfortable manipulating it now.

every once in a while, i’ll get sharp pains in my chest. they aren’t horribly painful, mostly just unpleasant. they feel a lot like the nerve zaps i was getting earlier in recovery so it might be another round of nerves reconnecting, but it also happens more often when i’m working so it’s hard to say if it’s nerves or over-exertion. either way, i always make sure to take it easy when i start to feel that, just in case it is a sign of me doing too much.

i typically almost never eat meat, but i chose to reintroduce it into my diet after surgery to get more protein, because i wanted to make sure my body had everything it needs to heal and protein is a huge part of that. now that i’m pretty much all healed skin-wise and just waiting for everything to settle, i’ve decided it’s time to go back to my usual diet of not-fully-vegetarian-but-pretty-damn-close. i’m sure the diet change wasn’t strictly necessary but i don’t regret doing it, though i am glad to be switching back now.

putting on shirts still hasn’t gotten old. seeing how they look over a flat chest honestly feels surreal, but in the best way. hugging people and being able to press all the way into it js also still such a great feeling. i’m far enough in now that i can do all of that stuff without worrying about it, but still early enough that it all feels really new and special, and i’ve been thoroughly enjoying that.

wearing a more genderfucky outfit out in public for the first time post-op was a fucking blast. my boyfriend and i went to a new year’s eve party, and getting to show off my chest through a sheer lace top and my facial hair alongside makeup was so much fun. it was the first time i’ve been able to go all out without the lingering feeling in the back of my mind that dressing up means inevitably being seen as a woman. i definitely didn’t look like a cis man to any of the people who saw me, but they could clearly tell i wasn’t a cis woman at the very least, and knowing that made me so much more confident.

i’m far enough away now from being in the trenches of early recovery that the reality of the fact that i got such a big surgery has started to fade. when i really think about the fact that my body went through all of that and about how hard early recovery was, it doesn’t quite feel real anymore. i’m starting to reach the point one of my friends told me about, where my chest being like this feels so normal that it’s just like “yeah, of course, it’s always been like this, right?” it’s wild, really, the difference a couple months can make — it wasn’t that long ago that i was exhausted and arguably depressed from the early recovery process, and now it all feels so normal that i have to remind myself it took all of that to get here. i never really doubted that it would be worth it in the end, but i’m still more sure of that now than i ever have been.

the last couple months have been a long road, but somehow they’ve also flown by. it’s given me so much appreciation for my body — its potential to transform and what it’s been able to withstand. i wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Ok a weird request 😭

Imagine yan!Zhongli, abyss!Aether and Neuvillette with a darling that loves them back (they don't care they're a yandere (and no it's not Stockholm Syndrome)) but just asks their brother to be with them (bc they imprisoned her) and if they accept, they see that the supposed "brother" is a dog- like- darling considers her dog her own brother.

The reason is that I myself consider the dog my mom has my brother- Please I am normal I swear 😭

- Weird anon ✨ (idk if you do this honestly 😭)

so i actaully don't write for aether anymore (i'm so sorry about that ;v;), but i hope you still like the other two! and don't worry about being weird lol, my cat is my literal son, like i'm 99% sure i gave birth to him and just forgot (it's scary how alike we are) XD

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, implied being held against will, that's about it this one is pretty tame, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Zhongli allows it, but that doesn’t mean he entirely understands it. Please don’t expect him to grasp the entire thing right away. He’ll ask if your ‘brother’ sits at the table for dinner and if Zhongli needs to prepare additional servings for him, etc. Despite having lived for many, many years and having seen many strange things, Zhongli still struggles to fully understand the situation. He allows it though, anything to make his beloved happy.

“Does he… does your brother sit at the table with us for dinner?” Zhongli looked at the dog sat by your feet, one eyebrow raised in confusion as he anxiously awaited your response. A dog at the dinner table wasn’t exactly good for sanitary eating but he supposed he could allow it to slide for your sake. You had been compliant with his wishes thus far, who would he be to deny you the one thing you had asked for. He at first thought that your ‘brother’ had once been human and turned animal, but when you explained the situation to him, he seemed to feel even more at odds. Regardless, you are his beloved, and he’d comply to your wishes so long as it was in reason. Not only did he want your love, but he wanted you to be happy, and if this silly wish of yours was what it meant, he’d gladly give in.

Yandere!Neuvillette is perturbed to say the least. He had known already that your family had a dog, but he didn’t think you’d be this attached to it. Nevertheless he does retrieve your ‘brother’ and makes accommodations inside the manor for him. He doesn’t much interact with him though, Neuvillette isn’t really a dog-person, he’s not really an animal person at all. This was your one ask thus far though and you’d been accepting of his love so he wouldn’t argue. The dog will not be allowed to eat dinner with you though, he will eat his food in a separate room, as proper etiquette calls for.

Neuvillette didn’t understand the attachment that humans developed with animals, but he also never really cared for animals. The melusines were different, they behaved much like humans and could converse with Neuvillette, animals could not. When you requested that you be allowed your brother, Neuvillette was skeptical at first. When you then explained that your ‘brother’ was a dog, he relented, retrieving the pet for you. While he makes a room for the dog and even prepares meals for him, do not expect him to love the dog. Neuvillette doesn’t much care for bonds with animals like that, he’ll greatly outlive them and simply isn’t fond of the type of companionship they provide, so your brother is all yours. Of course if you asked, he’d walk him or bathe him or do any other such task, but only if asked will he do it. His rule is that you asked for him to brought here and that he is now your responsibility.

[darkbluekies]

Don't know if anyone asked but what would the yandere's reaction be to the reader patching them up after they get injured?

Warnings: mentions of cuts, blood, killing, yandere, feeling depressed? (I'm not sure what to call it)

Silas: 

He is strongly against you seeing him in this kind of condition. He’s supposed to be your protector, supposed to take care of you … not the other way around. But you manage to push him down on the toilet and start to clean his wounds while he hisses and curses, although afterwards, he’ll shower you in kisses and tell you how grateful he is.

“You’re not supposed to — fuck — do this. I can take care of myself, you know. Give me that — oh motherfucker — that disinfectant and I’ll do it myself. Yes, I am happy that you’re worried about me, but this isn’t my proudest moment, baby. Let me spare some damn dignity.”

Dr Kry: 

He has cut his palm deeply on one of his sharp tools while cleaning up after a surgery. He returns to your room where he keeps all of his stuff. His hands are shaking too much to be able to clean it. You decide to help him before he bleeds out. Dr Kry guides you through the process to make sure you do everything as you should.

“Take that and pat it on my hand. Be careful though, that disinfectant is pretty strong. Ouch — I’m fine, don’t worry. Then you have to take the bandage and wrap it around my hand nad wrist. Don’t wrap it until my hand turns blue, but make sure that its tight. Good job, Y/N. I think I’m good now. But now you need to get back to bed, you know that you shouldn’t be out too much … as a thank you, I can get you dessert after dinner, alright?”

King Edmund:

Cut in the shoulder by a sword. An enemy had caught him in a vulnerable moment. You sit him down on the side of the bed and remove his shirt before starting to clean the wound. Edmund groans and throws his head back to avoid seeing the mess. Although complaining a lot, he doesn’t want anyone else treating him. No one but you are worthy enough to touch his body.

“Hurry up, please! For the love of all mighty, aren’t you done soon? I’m going to die! Yes, I am, you wouldn’t know. I’m going to mangle that scum who had the nerve to dislocate my shoulder. Y/N, you are going to take care of me until I’m well again, won’t you? You have to. I’m your king … your husband. You need to take care of me.”

Jerry:

Another one who’s extremely against you seeing her in this condition. She tries to push you away when you try to help her, but she’s too weak. In the end, you manage to corner her in the bathroom and treat her bloody wounds. For once, her hard demeanor seem to fall. She’s quiet, limp. You ask what’s on her mind, fearing for why she’s not being her normal dramatic, sarcastic self.

“I honestly thought that I was going to die … I have never been so … scared before. I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Yes, I am. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know it already. You should have left me alone, Y/N. You shouldn’t patch me up. You should have left me to die. I love you. I know I don’t say that a lot, I just wanted you to … know. Sorry for being a pathetic pussy … I just … nevermind.”

Hedwig: 

She’s crying while you clean the wound on her cheek. She had been shaving off some baby hairs — a trick she’d seen online — but had been too uncertain, resulting in her cutting herself. You clean it softly and place a bandaid over it. 

“I look so ugly, don’t I? I can’t go to school like this! People will laugh at me. Everyone will know that i tried to shave and that I couldn’t do it. Please stay with me, Y/N, stay with me forever. You’re the only one who doesn’t care what I look like. It doesn’t look … that bad … right? I never want to be without you, i dont think i could do it.”

[xhmeusworld]

a perfectly good heart | jeon wonwoo

genre: angst, comfort! bf wonwoo, established relationship

pairings: jeon wonwoo x gender neutral reader

warnings: reader is going through a difficult time, mentions of depression, and reader makes a comment about not wanting to exist

word count: 871

note: lately life has just been throwing me for a loop and as a result, i wrote this. i just want everyone to know that you have a purpose in life. regardless of how big or small, it means so much that you are here and my messages are always open to talk.

no one understands another’s pain. not truly.

words and actions can only explain so much, but no matter what someone says, the extensiveness of the pain can not be conveyed. that’s what you thought.

but as jeon wonwoo held you against him, he swore he could feel everything. the pure turmoil and agony. it felt like his soul was on fire, the flames forcing their way out and racing across his limbs.

the shakes that tore through your body and the struggled breaths through the tears made him hold you tighter, wanting to do anything to provide some sort of comfort. some sort of relief to the despair you felt.

instead, he felt helpless. what could he do? did he have the power to do anything? he wanted to tell you that everything you believed about yourself was wrong. he wanted to tell you that your brain was lying. he wanted to tell you so many things, but he wasn’t even sure if you could hear him right now.

your words from earlier rang in his ears.

“life has no set timeline. I understand that. I hear that every single day from so many people and it’s supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. because then I think about it in terms of years and the longer I am floating around without a plan or a goal, the less likely I am to feel connected to everyone around me. I don’t want to be left behind. I don’t want to be the friend that is left alone; still wandering through life while everyone else has careers.”

the future was a scary thought. wonwoo understood that. the unknown of where you could end up in five years was terrifying, especially with no set plan. but sometimes things like this were meant to happen. maybe you were being led onto another path that you just didn’t know about yet.

“and I feel like I’m such a bad friend to literally everyone. i can hardly muster up the courage or energy to speak to some of closest friends. they have reached out, but i just find myself unable to reply and it hurts because i know the despair i’m feeling is my fault. i am so mentally weak. cutting everyone off makes my soul hurt so bad because I don’t want to hurt anyone, but my brain keeps constantly saying over and over that I’m a burden. I’m annoying. if i reach out, I’m taking time away from their lives; interrupting whatever important thing they have going on. and even through all of this, i’m lonely and i’m scared that everyone will forget me. I know none of this is true. I understand that, but god, I feel so weak and helpless.”

wonwoo wanted to scream. it hurt to hear you admit how lonely you felt and he instantly felt guilty himself as a result of his touring schedule, but you were in no way a burden to him or anyone else in your life. you just weren’t. there was absolutely no way you could be to the l people who loved you the most in the world. you weren’t weak or helpless. you were just scared. he wanted to tell you, he wanted to engrain into your head, that fear was normal. nothing was wrong with you being afraid.

“i’m a disappointment to my parents; to everyone that believed in me. I used to be so happy and now I feel incredibly stupid and I’m just filled with regret and anger. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I wish I was one of those people who knew exactly what they are doing with their life, but I’m not and I hate it. instead, i’m here with a void in my heart.”

your voice was thick with tears that you were desperately trying to hold back. wonwoo thought you were going to start sobbing right then, but somehow you managed to keep your composure to talk once again.

“i’m just so ashamed myself. I’m so utterly and truly an embarrassment and a failure that sometimes I’m even afraid to face you.”

that’s when your boyfriend grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him as he insisted almost angrily that you weren’t a failure. you were doing what was best for you. you were trying to take it one day at a time. there was no shame or crime in that. wonwoo was so proud of his person. so so very proud.

“i see no light or hope at the end of the tunnel right now”

these were the last words you spoke before you fully broke down, burying your face into his chest.

and no matter what you thought, jeon wonwoo could feel your pain and he held you tightly against him, tears streaming down his cheeks as well. his grasp tightened with each one of your sobs in hopes that if he only held on a little stronger, maybe he would be able to put you back together. he kissed the top of your head. he whispered that you were safe and loved and that you weren’t alone.

because he knew it hurt to be alone.

[navybrat817]

Sweet as Cherry Pie

Pairing: Soft Dark!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve comes home with great news, but you're not as happy as you should be. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Implied smut, noncon/dubcon elements (you have been warned), gaps in memory, gaslighting, coercion, creepy vibes, Steve Rogers (yep, he's a warning and a little mean) A/N: Steve and Cherry's Intro for my Disturbia AU! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You always enjoyed baking. It gave you something to do with your hands and the hobby was both simple and challenging. It required focus for measuring and following directions, but you also had fun with your creations. It seemed to be one of the only ways you could express yourself now, which clouded your feelings when you focused too much on it.

I will not feel sorry for myself. I have a good life. The best life.

Being the wife of Steve Rogers was a dream come true. The man was handsome, loving, a hero. The all American dream wrapped up in the perfect package. He worked hard to provide you both with a lovely home and didn't ask for much in return. Only that you follow his orders and be dutiful.

A good wife obeys her husband.

You idly wiped down the counter as you waited for the oven timer to go off, glancing at one of the photos Steve placed near the window. While he smiled from ear-to-ear, yours was a little more reserved. He loved drawing and taking photos of you, but there weren’t any photos of the two of you before you moved to The Haven. They were somehow lost in the move.

Not that I remember packing any of my stuff, but my old place doesn’t matter, does it?

The sound of Steve’s motorcycle pulling into the garage pulled you from your distracted thoughts. He normally called if he was going to come home early. The sound of the door would indicate if he was back for a good or bad reason. Either way, he’d take his mood out on your body. You had to look presentable.

A good wife lives to please her husband.

You threw your apron off and rushed to your room to put on the cherry scented perfume he liked. He enjoyed it because it was seductive and sensual, sweet and tart, good enough to eat. As if on autopilot, you applied it to the same four spots: behind your ear, at the base of your neck, your wrist, and behind your knee. You retouched your lips next, staring at the tube of lipstick once you finished. It wasn't a color you wore until you moved in with him.

Steve picked it because he knows best.

When you looked at your beautiful reflection in the mirror, the urge to smash it began to surface. A flickering flame grew within you, threatening to spread like wildfire as you dropped the lipstick into the sink. There was nothing wrong with looking pretty for your husband. You just wished the person staring back at you was one you recognized.

I’m Cherry. I’m Mrs. Steve Rogers. I’m happy.

“Sweetheart?” Steve called to you before he gently shut the door. He was in a good mood at least. “Mmm. Something smells delicious.”

You straightened your dress and brushed off any negativity that bubbled under your skin as you went to greet him. Not a single blonde hair of his was out of place as he took in the sight of you. The need to impress him took over your thoughts. “Hi. Cookies are almost done,” you said, pressing your red lips to his cheek. “I didn’t expect you to come home so soon.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see my beautiful wife,” he asked as he slipped off his shoes and guided you toward the kitchen. Any excuse to touch you, he did. “Why? Are you not happy to see me?”

“I’m always happy to see you,” you said as you grabbed an oven mitt. The timer went off a second later and his eyes didn’t leave you as you carefully took the sheet out. “I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Everything’s great,” he said, inspecting the cookies as you set them on the stove. You knew it was a wonderful batch without tasting them. The perfect man, he expected perfection in every extension of him. Which is why you didn’t make mistakes with any of your baking or cooking. "I have the best news.”

"Oh? What is it?" you asked curiously.

"Bucky’s married!" he said, taking you by the waist to twirl you around. “Can you believe it?”

"Married?" you repeated, not as happy as your husband. The news should’ve excited you since Bucky was his best friend, but it confused you. "I didn't know he was seeing anyone."

"No? I swore I told you he had his eye on someone,” he said with a condescending chuckle. “Makes me think you don’t pay attention when I speak to you, but that can’t be it, right?”

You went rigid in his grasp when he smiled. It reminded you of a demon, the shades of red and darkness showing in his eyes and perfect row of teeth. “It must’ve slipped my mind. Silly me,” you tried to giggle.

Like so many other things.

You didn’t relax until he kissed the corner of your mouth. “Because you’re so busy taking care of me, which I appreciate,” he praised you, his smile softer. Kinder. “And it’s better most days when I do the thinking for you.”

You bit your tongue so hard you almost drew blood, wanting to say that you were more than just a pretty face. The words didn’t come though. “You know best, Steve” you said as you plastered a smile on your face, your voice somewhat hollow after his insult. “And I love taking care of you.”

If he noticed your lack of enthusiasm, he didn’t say so. “Back to the good news,” he said, swaying with you even though there was no music. “It was a quick engagement and they didn’t want to wait. I wish I could’ve been at the ceremony, but I had that mission and I don’t blame him one bit for not waiting.”

“I’m sure he would’ve loved for you to be his best man.”

“He would’ve, but I'm happy that he’s happy. When you know, you know,” he said, tapping the tip of your nose. “Like the moment I met you. I knew you were going to be my wife."

Your smile faltered a little. It was difficult some days to remember just how you two came to be Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. You knew you loved him, but the actual process of falling for him? The build up of the relationship? It was like there was a chapter missing.

The past is the past and I have everything I need in the present.

Steve looked at you expectantly as you blinked. You needed to focus. “Just like I knew you’d be my husband.”

He hummed, seemingly pleased with your response. "We're going to meet her soon. Will you do me a favor, please? Make her feel welcome?" He suggested, but it was more like a command. He sometimes liked to phrase things in ways that made it sound as if you had a say in the matter, but his word was law. “Bucky’s my best friend and I want you two to be best friends.”

"Of course. It’ll be nice to have a new friend.”

“And once she’s settled in, I know they’re going to start trying for a family,” he went on, placing his hand on your stomach. “Which means we can try, too. Our kids can grow up together, the way Bucky and I did. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Steve would be the best father. He deserves a family. So does Bucky.

“So wonderful,” you whispered, afraid you’d cry if you raised your voice. You wish you knew why the thought of having children with the man you loved scared you.

“Maybe we can start practicing,” he said, his voice huskier as he gripped your hips. “A bit of dessert before dinner.”

You didn’t protest as he backed you against the counter. Your body would welcome him home the way it always did. He’d please you as you pleased him.

“And Cherry?”

“Yes, Steve?” you asked as he dipped his head to inhale your perfume.

“Make a cherry pie for me to send to Bucky’s house. I don’t think he plans on leaving anytime soon and he isn’t letting his wife leave the bed. We can’t let them go hungry now, can we?”

“No, we can’t,” you replied, closing your eyes as he pushed your dress up.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered.

Happy husband. Happy wife. Happy life.

All good in the neighborhood, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[vintagenahbi]

How They Act During Your Pregnancy

Ot7 x Reader - BTS Reactions Pt. 2

Jimin, Jin, Jungkook

Summary: How each member takes care of you during your pregnancy journey.

Warnings ⚠️: nervous breakdown, feeling like a burden

Jimin

I laid down on the bed with my stomach nearly floating in the air. Jimin walked in the room and I was barely able to see him over my giant stomach. Jimin smiled and leaned down to kiss my forehead.

“Two more days and we meet our baby boy.” Jimin said excitedly. I rolled my eyes. My pregnancy had been wonderful, but I was already starting to miss it. I was slightly dreading having to give birth. Jimin had been by my side the entire time and suddenly I was going to be jolted back into reality. I also wasn’t the happiest about having to have a C-Section. My recent stress was causing the baby to be stressed which was becoming a serious concern to my doctor.

“I’m not ready.” I blurted out of absolutely no where. It was as if my brain had no control over my mouth.

“You’re not ready?” Jimin questioned in a soft tone. I shook my head no and propped myself up. I let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah. I mean- it’s not like I’m not excited to meet our baby, it’s just this has been so great. You and me. We hadn’t had moments like this in a while. If it’s not a tour, I’m working or we are passing like ships in the night. Being with you has become the new normal, but it’s going to change. As selfish as this may be, it will be me, you, and the baby.” I couldn’t believe the last sentence escaped my lips. I was genuinely happy to have our baby, but the selfishness in me was scared. I didn’t want to feel alone like I had so many times before. I never thought about it until recently, but things were about to change drastically.

“Umm… I don’t know what to say Y/N.” I knew I screwed up in that moment. “I get it though. It won’t be the same. We haven’t had the time to be a couple and babies change things, but my love for you and our son won’t.” I felt reassured. Jimin had a way of cheering me up when I was down. I always felt seen and understood when I was with him. “Had this been bothering you?” He sat on the edge of the bed facing towards me. I felt like I was in a therapy session talking about my deepest feelings.

“Yeah.” I gently pressed my hand against my stomach. “I’m terrified and I’ve hurt our son in the process because I don’t want to lose us.” Jimin grabbed my calf and started rubbing his thumb up and down. His use of physical touch nearly made me burst into tears. He did everything right and here I am.

“Y/N, we are going to okay. I don’t need you stressing more than you need to be. Our son doesn’t need you stressing. We will have time with you and me. I promise you it will be okay.”

The tears started flowing down my face. It felt great to get it off my chest but it was still a lot to process. Jimin got back up and hugged me. He didn’t let go until I was ready. Once I pulled away he looked at me and frowned.

“It’s going to be okay Y/N.”

Jin

Jin and I got back from our doctor’s appointment to learn the gender of our baby. In my hand was the envelope that contained the answers that we had been waiting for. We stood in the living room debating on if we should open it know or wait.

“Jin we have to open it. I’m ready to start buying stuff for the baby.” He took the envelope out of my hand.

“Let’s guess what we think it is first.” I stomped my foot and walked to the couch. It was a comically childish response that he and I both chuckled at. He mocked me and sat down next to me. “One the count of three we say what we think we are having okay?” I put up his fingers to start the countdown. “One, two, three.”

“Boy!” We yelled at the same time. I was elated. We both imagined having a little boy. I grabbed the envelope and tore it open. I read the paper and it was a girl. I was surprised. A girl meant Jin was stuck with a mini me for the rest of his life that happened to look like him.

He took the paper and read it. He had the same reaction as me. We looked at each other and started to laugh. I loved the playful nature of our relationship. We knew when to be serious, but enjoyed having a good time.

“We are having a girl, Jin. What do you have to say.” I held the pretend microphone near his lips.

“WWCP.” I didn’t understand what he was going for with that one. “World Wide Cutie Pie.” We both started to laugh. I gave him a kiss and cuddled up next to him in his arms. He kissed my forehead, lifting my head after to look him in the eyes. “I love you Y/N.” He put head near my little belly. “And I love my little girl too.”

Jung Kook

The crib part slipped out of my hand and slammed against the floor nearly hitting my foot. Jungkook rushed into the babies nursery only to find me, six months pregnant, trying to lift up the piece that fell. He took it out of my hand and sat it back on the floor gently.

“You really shouldn’t be lifting stuff like this.” I walked over to sofa chair and sat down.

“I was tired of nothing being ready. All the boxes not having a proper place. This baby is going to be here sooner than later and nothing is ready.” I snapped at him. I was cranky these past couple of days. I knew I was in the wrong but wanted our baby to have a special place once we brought her back from the hospital.

Jungkook kneeled down in front of me. I started stroking his hair. He wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head on my stomach. I felt little flutters as the baby began to move almost as if she knew her daddy was near.

“Y/N, she is going to be okay. We have three more months before she is here. You need to focus on resting, I’ve got this part.” He kissed my stomach and stood back up.

“I feel useless. I want to be able to help. This is my baby too. I want her to know she is loved even before she gets here and this is the one way I know how to do it.”

“She knows she is loved.” He takes my hands and helps me up. He turns me towards the wall that has the photo of the two of us hanging up. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “That’s how she knows she is loved.” I looked at our picture and smiled.

“You know you’re really good at this sometimes.” Jungkook started to chuckle. I turned around and looked in his brown eyes. “You’re gonna make a great dad.” He kissed me and let go of my waist.

“You’re going to make a great mom, but until she is born let me do the heavy lifting. You are carrying something more precious. I got this.” I playful rolled my eyes. He quickly kissed my cheek. “Now let me finish up in here.” He rushed me out of the room leading me to the doorway. I pressed against it and watched him put the crib together. I knew in that moment he was everything I had dreamed of for the kind of dad I wanted my daughter to have.

[cloudyyoimiya]

Changing His Bandages Headcanons and Scenario; Osamu Dazai

Where to begin with this!

Normally, he won’t let anyone know why he wears his bandages; he dislikes the thought.

In fact, the first time his s/o offered to change his bandages for him, it caught him off guard. Though, he immediately regained his composure and played off his s/o’s offer by saying he sleeps in his bandages.

This claim isn’t entirely false though… 😭

If you really want to see what’s with the bandages, Dazai would have to trust you with his whole being. He has to trust that you won’t be going around explaining why he wears the bandages, and he has to trust that you wouldn’t be weirded out by them.

In order for him to trust you, well, it could take months… years. He doesn’t trust others that easily.

Once he does trust his s/o, he’d go on and explain why his body appears the way it does. He doesn’t really like talking about it though, so you’d get a short and bitter answer.

Of course you wouldn’t pry on it.. it’s personal. If he wanted to tell his s/o more details, then he would on his own will. Nothing could pressure him into telling his s/o about it before he’s ready.

Scenario…

Dazai had just got out of the shower, and only wore a towel around his waist. You, of course, were sitting in the living room on the love seat. You were scrolling through your phone, smiling at random things that caught your eye. Dazai had found the sight before him endearing. How could he not?

He said down beside you with a faint smile on his face. “My Belladonna, could you please help me wrap myself up?”

You blinked as you set your phone down. Dazai asking you to help him with his bandages was a rare occurrence. Possibly today was a good day at the agency? That’s what you chalked it up to anyway.

“Of course,” you smiled. “Did you bring the bandages?”

Dazai only nodded as he handed you the roll of bandages. You took the roll out of his grasp, then took his right arm into your care. Silently, you started to carefully wrap his wrist.

Dazai observed as you carried out your actions. He was… happy that he could trust you. He was happy that you weren’t disgusted by his old wounds. He was just happy to have you. A bittersweet smile adorned his features as he continued to think about how happy you made him.

“Ah my beautiful lover! You’re almost like my personal medic!” Dazai said rather loudly.

You only chuckled at his antics. You had finished wrapping up his right arm.

“If I’m your personal medic, then wouldn’t that make you a soldier I was treating?”

You grabbed his left arm, then started the same process all over again.

“I’d much rather be your knight in shining armor than a soldier, my love,” Dazai chuckled.

Your touches were feather light. Dazai enjoyed this feeling. It was rather relaxing on his end. He noticed your faint smile, and only assumed that you enjoyed this as well. In a way, this could be considered an activity that the two of you like to do to destress.

You had finished wrapping his left arm. You then went to wrap his torso, but Dazai stopped you for a brief moment.

“I can do this myself,” he said.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.”

Dazai stopped to think for a moment. What had he ever done to deserve you?

“You want to continue to do this?” He questioned. You only nodded.

“I enjoy helping you do this, Osamu.”

He wiped under his eyes, making it look like he was wiping tears.

“Ah you’re too kind to me!” He exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes as you started to wrap the bottom of his torso. On occasion, Dazai would twitch from your touch if you grazed a particularly ticklish area. Other than that, wrapping his torso was spent in a comfortable silence.

When you had finished, Dazai jumped on you right away. He hugged you rather tightly as he rubbed his cheek onto yours.

“My sweet, I love you so much.”

Requests open!

[filmbyjy]

COLLIE DUTY

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

ALTERNATE ENDING – yes, and?

— continuation from chapter 34 (please read if you haven’t)

you had walked out of the passenger side of the car and faced the view. you breathed in and out. jay didn’t say much, he just kept quiet and watched the view too.

“do you like jake a lot?” jay suddenly asks.

did you like jake? sure, he was everything you ever dreamt of the perfect and ideal type of boyfriend but he came with many flaws. which was normal. however, after breaking your trust and heart twice, you can’t help but feel lost…confused even.

“I don’t know.” you quietly whispered. the softness of your tone went with the beautiful scenery in front of you.

“you don’t know?” jay says in slight confusion.

“I know what my heart wants but…I can’t bring myself to physically accept him after he hurt me twice.” you explained. jay hums in acknowledgment. he understood where you were coming from and quite honestly, if he was in your position…he wouldn’t even forgive jake.

“so what are you going to do about it?”

“let him go.”

jay hums once more, “whatever you desire. you know what’s best for yourself and I’ll go along with it.”

“I don’t know what’s best for myself, honestly. I feel like I should just give up.”

“well, if your heart is telling you do so then you should. you’re someone who needs to be treated right,” jay says.

you looked up at him. “really? because I don’t feel like it. everyone that I fall in love with always leaves me in the end.”

jay shrugs, “they’re too blind to realise they’ve lost someone amazing.”

you snickered, “is this how you deal with all the ladies coming after you?”

“I don’t have anyone who likes me. My love life is kinda sad, honestly. The girl I like doesn’t like me back and all the dates I’ve gone to all just want me for my wealth and to get into my pants.” jay sighs.

“I’m so sorry.”

“it’s alright.”

“what about the girl who doesn’t like you back?”

“I would sacrifice her happiness over mine.” jay simply says as he directly looks into your eyes.

“shouldn’t you have some self-respect for yourself?”

“for her, I don’t. I want what’s best for her…even if she doesn’t like me.” jay smiles.

“whoever this girl is…she’s really unlucky. she should realise you’re the real deal.”

“yeah, she should…but I’m fine with it. As long as she’s happy with her decision.”

5 YEARS LATER…

as you looked down at your phone in the cafe that you had set up…you realise that there was something more to life. chasing after a guy who you thought was the one for you. clearly, that didn’t work out.

since, you had left Sim Corp. your life was…a little different but quite the same. you were your own little boss as you managed the cafe. when you first left Sim Corp. tons of the friends you made were reluctant to see you go. however, they understood where you came from. no one wanted to stay to face the love that wasn’t theirs.

scrolling through your gallery, you clicked on one photo. you would’ve deleted it but it would hurt you too much if you went with it. so here you were, staring at it. nearly bringing tears to your eyes. it was a photo of jake and layla. you were pathetic for still somehow having feelings for him after all these years. however, your heart just couldn’t give up on him.

everyday, you tried to live your best life. moving on and even trying to go out on dates to forget the pain that you withheld. however, it was no surprised that at the end of the date, your heart yearned for your true love. which is why…despite having a chance to possibly date jay or any other guy, you didn’t. for jay, he knows you can’t forget about jake. you thought you were stupid for still being stuck on him.

jay denies it. it just shows how much you really liked jake and quite honestly, he said if he was jake. he would be flattered. but alas, you had drifted apart from jake. never contacting him again after you left the company.

you could hear the bell to your little cafe door ringing, indicating someone had walked in.

“welcome to Lily Cafe-” the words that were supposed to continue after quickly died the moment you had laid eyes on the person who walked on.

Sim Jaeyun

he still looked as handsome as 5 years ago. you looked away and just went to the counter to attend to him as he still was a valued customer. jake stood in front of you (at the cashier) in awe. you still looked beautiful as ever. there was barely any changes to you and yet somehow, he felt like you were different.

“what would you like to have, sir.” jake swore his heart stopped. he missed your sweet voice.

“umm, it’s my first time here so what are the specials. umm any recommendations?”

“I believe the best recommendation I can give you is a simple vanilla latte and also along with the red velvet cake.”

“then can I have a cold vanilla latte and one red velvet cake?” you nodded and ringed up his order. your employees helping out to make the drink and also packing the cake into a box.

“would you like 1 fork to share with your significant other?”

“I don’t have a significant other.” he says. the air felt still, a clear tension between you two that causes your staff to start gossiping and moving over to the staff room.

“oh.”

“I divorced her a year later into our contractual marriage.” jake explains.

you didn’t know why it made you at ease and why he needed to tell you this. it was none of your business.

“alright, then I’ll just put one fork for you-” you reached to placed the fork into the bag.

“layla misses you.” jake says. you freeze. ah layla, the ever so cute puppy. she’s definitely not a puppy anymore, she would probably be an adult now. a grown dog. “I miss you.”

“there is no point of saying that. we never started anything and you got married to your childhood sweetheart.” you bitterly say.

“I already said I divorced her and I only loved you truly.”

“jake, let’s not talk about this when people are here.”

“then.” he grabs your hand (whilst also grabbing his drink and cake) “let’s go somewhere private.”

“w-what?” and so jake drags you somewhere secluded but still somewhere in public considering he didn’t want to look like some serial killer. despite him holding a cup of latte and a box of red velvet cake.

“let’s clear the air now. I love you.” jake doesn’t waste a single second.

“you can’t just say that after 5 years of me not seeing you.” you say.

“I can and I will. I love you and I want to be by your side till the very end. I never liked her, I was forced to get married because of my fucking dad. He’s the worst.”

“you don’t have to explain. there is no point.”

“what do you mean there is no point?! (name), i fucking love you. I got divorce from her because I didn’t love her, I love you and only you.”

“stop talking nonsense. you should go back.”

“there is no going back, you’re my home and my safety. I can’t leave you anymore.”

“jake.”

“please.” jake begs. it looked too pitiful. his eyes filled with tears just brimming and ready to fall. “I can’t lose you again…” his voice was shaky, this was the first time you saw jake being vulnerable.

did you want to possibly get hurt again?

yes

you were dumb enough to continue to love him.

“sim jaeyun, you asshole.” you had whacked his chest and cried in his arms. “why do you have to be so mean to me.” you sobbed out.

murmurs and apologies were just simply said to each other. once again, sim jaeyun never fails to appear into your life again. he was a virus…

a good virus.

EPILOGUE (that you guys never got)

— takes place 4 years later

MASTERLIST

a/n: finally ‘Collie Duty’ has legit and officially ended🥹 I am currently planning for ‘MineStream’ right now so look out for that whenever I upload the masterlist for it!!

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