#the way this makes me ache for happiness <333

[stylesharrys]

special brownies [weedrry]

summary: harry and y/n accidentally eat their roommates special brownies.

warnings: mentions and use of weed (edibles), being high, swearing, kissing, biting, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk.

word count: 2,396

a/n: i came up with this idea very randomly and i have written it as fast as i possibly could lmao anyway, the whole thing is about accidentally getting stoned, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't read! if it doesn't, enjoy <333

//

It’s been a long week and Y/N is feeling it. Between classes and shifts at the cafe, her feet are sore and her mind is tired. She wants nothing more than to cuddle up on the sofa with a good tv show and pass the fuck out.

And tonight is supposed to be her lucky night. Tom has a night shift and Harry has a hot date. No boys, no roommates, no interruptions.

There’s just something about knowing she’s got the flat to herself all night long, and she can lounge about like the lazy girlie her heart yearns to be.

She starts with a long, relaxing her aching body in the hot soapy water until her skin begins to prune. Y/N takes extra time to moisturise her body and brush her hair. Even treats herself to a face mask while she does so.

When she leaves the bathroom, it’s almost 7 p.m. and Tom has already left for work. The apartment is clean, and most importantly, quiet.

She’s a bit too excited in her movement to the sofa, a squeal slipping from her lips. Too caught up in her head, she doesn’t notice Harry leaning against his bedroom door, arms folded across his chest.

It’s not until he clears his throat that Y/N jumps out of her little happy dance with a scream. A smirk sits on his lips, amused by the way she scowls at him.

“What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be out on a date!”

Her tone is accusing, pointer finger jabbing at the air in his direction. She notices his attire; grey shorts and a white hoodie. Y/N’s shoulders slump.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she huffs.

“What? I thought you liked hanging out with me?” Harry follows her to the sofa, sitting on  the opposite end of her.

Y/N crosses her arms furiously. “I do! But I was so excited to have the flat to myself for just one night.”

Harry’s brows are raised suggestively, that sick fucking smirk on his lips again. Y/N lunges a pillow at his face. “Not for those reasons, you perv.”

He barks out a laugh, hugging the pillow close to his chest as he props his feet up and on Y/N’s lap. He watches how her bottom lip pouts out and his face softens.

“Look, if you want me to fuck off out for the evening, I can.” Harry offers.

She scoffs. “That is what you were supposed to be doing.” A moment of silence passes and she sighs. “Sorry, that came out rude. I'm not about to kick you out of your own flat – though I am going to force you to watch the last three episodes of The Rookie with me.”

Harry makes no attempt to hide the groan that follows her words. It’s not that he doesn’t like the show, it’s that he hates the show. He’ll never understand Y/N’s weird obsession with emergency services.

First, it was Criminal Minds, then a month later she binge watched 9-1-1 Lone Star in six days. Now she’s on the newest season of The Rookie and he’s sure she only started season one at the beginning of the month?

“Do we have to?” he grumbles.

Y/N throws another pillow at him. “Yes. You’re the one interrupting my night, you could at least do it quietly… and with snacks.”

Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence and Harry has to bite back a grin. She could never be mad at Harry, she loves him and his company far too much. Tom, on the other hand… yeah, she would definitely be mad if it was him crashing her lazy girl night.

Harry stands from the sofa, wandering through to the kitchen. He grabs two bottles of water in one hand and scans his eyes through the cupboards in search for a suitable snack.

They’ve not been shopping for a few days, so there’s only some dry crackers, a half-eaten bag of cashew nuts (ew, Tom), and granola. Harry contemplates ubering some cookies and milkshakes when his eyes land on a bakery box on top of the microwave.

He squints as he reads the writing on the top of the box.

Tom’s. DO NOT EAT!

Harry flips the lid, six thick slices of dewey chocolate brownies. They’re like fucking slabs… he’s sure Tom won’t mind if he and Y/N share just one between them.

He pops a (massive) slice on a plate and toddles back to the kitchen. The show is paused on the opening scene, Y/N shuffled to get comfortable on the sofa. She raises a brow at the snack in question.

“We’re sharing a brownie?”

Harry huffs as he sits. “S’all we’ve got in the kitchen, and they’re Tom’s. Didn’t wanna take the piss when his little sticky note clearly says DO NOT TOUCH!”

Y/N snorts, breaking the brownie in half and handing Harry the bigger slice. She takes a bite, face screwing slightly.

“These taste a little funny… nutmeg, maybe?”

She turns to Harry who doesn’t say anything and still hasn’t taken the brownie. The look on his face irks her. She huffs, swallowing. “I feel bad that your date cancelled on you.”

His eyebrows almost raise to his hairline. “And what makes you think she was the one to cancel?”

“Was she?” Y/N asks.

Harry takes the brownie with a sigh. “Yeah.”

//

They can’t stop fucking giggling.

The show is long forgotten about, has been for the past thirty minutes. They’re both feeling warm. Harry stripped from his jumper and Y/N changed into some little shorts and one of Harry’s baggy t-shirts.

Neither of them know where this amusement came from, but there is absolutely no calming either of them down. They’re sneakily sharing a second slice of Tom’s brownies; eyes on the door in case for some reason, he comes home an hour after his shift has started.

“They taste so weird, but I can’t stop eating it.”

Harry chokes out a laugh, eyes welling with tears because he just finds Y/N so fucking funny tonight.

She’s a mess too, eyes squinted and shoulders hunched as she laughs uncontrollably. They’re both crossed-legged on the living room floor, knees knocking gently.

The more she chews, the more she begins to recognise that unfamiliar taste… the way it lingers on her tongue. Her laughter slows for a moment, as if realisation is beginning to dawn on her.

She stares at Harry with wide eyes and parted lips, mouth still full.

“Oh, my god.”

“What?”

“They’re fucking weed brownies!”

Harry can’t breathe, struggles to look away from the fear and shock on Y/N’s face. His whole body begins to shake with laughter and Y/N finds herself following.

“Harry, it’s not funny!” she shrieks. “This is so bad, Harry.”

She’s laughing through her words. Even she can’t take herself seriously in this state.

“D’you wanna play Just Dance?”

Harry’s words only make her laugh harder. The remainder of her brownie is thrown at his naked torso. Harry wastes no time to tackle her to the ground, hovering between her legs as he tickles her sides.

He's blowing raspberries on her neck, eliciting loud cackles from her mouth. Y/N tugs at his hair, her legs flailing around his hips when he nips at the skin on her throat.

They don’t say anything. She continues to chuckle, and Harry continues to bite.

Their laughter has fizzled out into breathy giggles. Neither of them are sure when Harry’s bites turned into kisses. When their fingers became intertwined. When her legs closed around his middle.

And neither of them say a fucking thing about it.

Harry’s lips travel up her neck and across her jaw. She finds his mouth feverishly, nothing but tongue and teeth but to the pair of them, it’s the best kiss they’ve ever had.

They’re needy, hot and wanton all of a sudden. Like a switch has been flipped and they’re clinging to one another like lifelines.

Harry holds her hands above her head, fingers tangled. He’s hard, rock hard. Pressing into Y/N’s tiny fucking shorts so much he’s sure he can feel her arousal through both of their clothes.

He ruts against her, testing the waters. The moan he receives sends all blood down south. He’s always known sex to be incredible when you’re high. The thought of him sharing it with her? God, he could bust there and then.

He releases her hands so he can feel up her thighs, skin hot and smooth. Their lips don’t separate, not once. She lets her hands fall into his curls, nails scratching at his scalp and she tugs at the roots.

Harry’s moaning into her mouth, eager and desperate for more. He takes her shorts off quickly and strategically. So quickly that she doesn’t notice until she feels a cool breeze between her thighs.

Y/N’s eyes roll to the back of her head, more than ready for whatever the fuck he wants to do to her.

They haven’t hesitated, not once. Not until Harry's hands are at the waistband of his shorts and he wonders if he should grab a condom or just go down on her. He knows she’s on the pill, just like they both know they’re both clean.

Harry gets tested once a month and Y/N doesn’t sleep around.

She answers his inner turmoil for him and tugs his shorts down the best she can. Harry breaks the kiss for a split second to tug his shorts to his knees. He’s back to kissing her as quickly as he pulled away, tongue against hers. Hot and messy.

Y/N feels his tip twitch against her clit, an airy sigh echoing into Harry’s mouth. He lets his fingers swirl around her wetness, smearing it across her smooth cunt and coating his thick shaft in her arousal.

They’re panting messes, eager, desperate and horny.

When he lines himself at her entrance, she locks her legs around his waist. Harry bumps forward, a shrill cry slipping from between their lips at the sensation of one another.

Harry wants to give her a moment to adjust, but Y/N doesn’t. She wants it hot and hard. She wants the pain. She wants to feel every fucking inch of him.

She probably should’ve warned Harry how she gets when she’s high. How much of a whiny, cock-hungry whore she can become. Then again, how was she supposed to know they’d accidentally eat their roommates special brownies?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry chokes as he bottoms out.

Y/N’s struggling to catch her breath but she’s never loved the burn in her lungs more. “Fuck me, H.”

He twitches inside her. “Fuck me hard.”

His hips begin to roll, cock nuzzling itself deep inside her. He can feel everything. Every bump, dip, swell. God, she’s fucking soaked, leaking down to the floor but neither of them care.

Harry slowly begins to quicken his pace, arms bent at the elbows either side of Y/N’s head to prop himself up. She doesn’t loosen her legs around his hips. She needs him as close as he can possibly get.

Even his cock buried to the brim in her cunt isn’t enough. She needs his soul touching hers.

“You’re so fucking tight.”

“Yeah?” she breathes. “You gonna fuck my tight cunt, baby? Fuck me like you own me.”

He can’t believe his fucking ears. He’s always found Y/N attractive, but never in his wildest fucking dreams did he expect her to be this goddamn filthy.

Harry loves it.

His thrusts grow harsher. She has no time to catch her breath between hits, her mouth in a constant state of slack – eyes rolled back and eyebrows pinched.

“My perfect little cunt.” Harry seethes.

The noises of her pussy are like electric waves in Harry’s ears. He feels them in his soul, like sparks and jolts. He’s never felt more alive.

He’s fucking into her manically. Behind closed eyes all he can see shapes and colours of need and desire. Sex has always been good, always been great high. But this? Fuck, he’s never felt something so otherwordly.

He never wants it to end, wants to spend the rest of his life fucking her like a whore. She’s tugging his hair, likely making his scalp bleed but he loves it. He’d bleed a fucking river just to feel her cunt around him again.

“I’m gonna come!”

Her words awaken something animalistic within Harry. Like his life depends on feeling her release around him – like it’s what he was born to experience.

He chases her high, nipping and suckling on her neck, fucking into her cunt as fast as his restrained hips will allow. Y/N’s a blubbering mess, a sight Harry never wants to forget.

Fuck, he doesn’t think he could if he tried. This will forever be etched into his mind – her face, her body, her perfect cunt. Jesus, he’s never been so into sex in his life.

Her body begins to tremble uncontrollably, legs locked tight around his middle as she cries his name and pours over him.

Harry’s gruff and desperate moans mix with hers. She’s impossibly tighter, squeezing him; begging him to never let her feel anything but full ever again.

Harry wants to die buried in her cunt.

It takes every single fucking ounce of willpower he has to pull out and release across her thighs – painting the filthiest picture anyone could imagine.

It’s a struggle for either of them to catch their breaths. Hot and heavy panting that soon turns into light laughter, that even sooner, turns into contagious giggles.

Their bodies shake with every chuckle, Harry’s mouth ghosting hers until he nips on her bottom lip.

“We are never to talk about this, understood?”

He grins widely. “Whatever you want, Princess.”

She hums, eyes full of lust. Harry’s still achingly hard, despite coming more than he ever has before. He dips his head to her neck, sucking at her soft skin. His cock twitches against her thigh and she breathes deeply, blinks slowly.

“You wanna go again?” his voice is muffled by her neck.

She grins, legs wrapping back around his middle.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #imagine harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst

[obliviouscxnt]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you. 

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x shadow!reader #azriel fanfic

[chrollohearttags]

sweet like frosting • e. jaeger

y’all are still getting the full fic bc I’m in too deep now and I rather take my time on it but I had to give a lil something before the day is completely gone 😭 let’s call this an excerpt. happy birthday daddy <333

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *

burgundy lights scattered across the room, soft echoes of thumping R&B music played from the surround sound of the television set…the lewd acts depicted in the song being acted out right there in that bedroom. Satin ropes stretched from the side of the headboard and binding to each of the pale flushed wrists coiling around them. At the moment, it was all that could be seen of the man they were attached to..

“Mmmm…there you go. Use your tongue, baby..and slow down. Take your time, we’ve got all night…”

your words drowned out in a soft, illustrious moan. His own muffled by the cushion of your plump ass seated on his face. That silky, slick ridden mound dredging across his lips and grinding on his mouth…honestly, he couldn’t have asked for a more ideal view. Or a gift for that matter. After all, it was his special day. His to celebrate and spend exactly as he pleases. And what better way to do so than devouring the sweet cunt of his beloved? Letting those divine juices trickle all down his face, chin and even to his throat. “Ah—haaa..fuck..yes.” (Y/N) cried out, tossing your head to the ceiling with a loud cry releasing from your throat. It was hard to tell who’s birthday was which because both of you were equally doused in ecstasy at the moment. But truth be told, he’d never been so spoiled before. It wasn’t enough that you had paid for this elaborate trip to commemorate him turning twenty six. But the fact that he had been pampered with expensive gifts and now, you were fucking him senseless. Slathering his twitching cock with strings of sloppy spit earlier from allowing him to fuck your throat and now using them to stroke his shaft with those long acrylics curled around it. There wasn’t a better way to spend his birthday and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. Especially when all he had to do was lie here and let you give his body the ultimate amount of pleasure. Even more so than his body could withstand..trembling and whimpering, Eren let out more muffled cries and clawed into the flesh of his own palms. His legs shook violently as pools of precum leaked from his aching head. It wasn’t hard to deduce what he wanted. You could all but sense the desperation in the way he scraped his tongue around your folds and even flicked it around that puckering asshole. If he begged hard enough..maybe you’d feel inclined to give it to him.

“Oooh..you wanna come, don’t you, babyboy? You’re trembling..poor thing. Maybe I should ride this dick..let me nut all over it…suck that shit off when I’m done. I know you’d love that.”

but for now…you were enjoying this far more than you should have. And maybe it was a bit self motivated. But something told you that he didn’t mind too much. So as long as you were satisfied..after all, the best part about this cake was the sweet, delicious frosting that filled his mouth at the moment and he’d greedily feast, licking the plate clean so long as you allowed him.

“Eat all you want..this is all for you, daddy. You’re the only one who can get me like this..keep making me come. It’s all yours..”

#cherry’s works ✦⭒ #aot x black reader #black fem reader #eren x black fem!reader #aot au #musician x influencer au #eren jaeger #happy birthday eren #black reader smut #eren smut #eren x black y/n #eren aot #eren drabble #aot smut #smut drabble #eren yeager #black reader #eren #aot drabbles #snk smut #eren headcanons #eren jaeger x black reader #eren yeager x black reader #snk au #snk headcanons #smut headcanons #anime smut #anime drabble #snk #aot modern au

[pablitogavii]

Can you please do after care where gavi was a little bit too rough on the reader but after he takes care of her<333

Ilysm

His turn

You woke up with unimaginable sores from your hips all the way down your legs. Last night was certainly something else, but it left you a lot less capable to properly do something today.

"Mierda!" you groaned trying to move your legs that ached and Pablo stirred waking up himself and smirking towards your gorgeous face.

"Good morning, nena.." his morning voice was you sure kryptonite as you felt goosebump's moving down your spine and your cheeks turn a bright tint of pink. No matter how many times you sleep with Pablo, you will always get nervous around him like this..you can't help yourself!!

"Morning Pablito.." you fake a smile moving closer and touching his face while his eyes closed once more as he puckered his lips waiting for a kiss you happily obliged.

"Hmm..you get me for another day nena. You ready for our second date??" he said and you felt horrible that you really just wanted to stay in bed and recover so you faked being alright like usual.

"Umm..s..sure..what do you want to do??" you asked praying he says just being lazy at home but you knew Pablo isn't the guy to stay in one place for long. He needs to be in constant movement, that's why he's such a good footballer.

"We can walk around that park you like so much? Maybe get some ice cream?" he said but all that you heard is 'walking' which you knew would be a mission impossible in your current case. But you were too embarrassed to tell him anything :/

Just imagine..sorry Pablo, but you fucked me so good last night that I can't stand up right now..yeah you were too shy to say that!!

"Umm..w..walking..with this weather??" you quickly changed the subject from the real reason you dreaded getting out of this bed right now.

"It's not too cold, besides I am always the one who is freezing" he chuckled tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear and noticed your face dropping as if you were unsure of how to tell him something important. He knew you too well to let this go..

"Is something wrong, nena??" he asked raising up your chin as you gulped knowing that you had to be honest when he was looking at you like that..not to mention that there is no way you can get out of this bed today!!

"Um..can we just stay in bed all day porfavor??" you ask shyly trying to avoid the reason and Pablo smiled snaking his strong arm around your waist and starting to kiss your neck passionately..yeah he definitely didn't get it!!

"I thought I really treated you last night..but if you're in the mood then I'd be happy to oblige" he smirked into your skin but you pulled away shaking your head making the boy utterly confused right now.

"Umm..it's not that..you did treat me last night..maybe a little too much..and I..can't.." you were trying to go around it but Pablo was getting only more and more confused.

"I can't feel my legs Pablo!" you spat it out finally making him chuckle and nods his head before moving back and kissing your lips lovingly.

"Aww my poor bomboncita..was I too rough with you last night amorcito??" he asked caressing your blushed cheek and you nodded moving closer to him and hiding your face into his chest.

"I liked it..a lot..but right now everything hurts Pablitoo.." you whine and he nods kissing the top of your head before pulling away to look down into your eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor.." he said feeling bad to ever bring you pain even though it's a sweet kind of pain.

"It's alright, amor..I really enjoyed it last night..I just need a recovery session today" you say relating it to his football which made him chuckle and pull you closer kissing the top of your head.

"Hmm..for this recovery session, I promise breakfast rico..then a warm bath..then maybe a massage??" he spoke looking down at you to check if you agreed and you just smiled nodding your head at him.

"And cuddles!! Lot's of cuddles, amor.." you say and he nod holding you tight and running his hand through your hair combing it a little and massaging your scalp as a result.

"I'm gonna take good care of you amorcito mio.." he said and after a few minutes of cuddling you, he gave you your phone while leaving to the kitchen to make some breakfast.

When he came back, your stomach was growling already and your phone was long forgotten. He chuckled putting it on the bed before grabbing a toast and bringing it close to your mouth as you bit it with a smile.

"Mm..you should also eat something amor" you said but he sushed you with a kiss smiling when he saw your cheeks blushing. He loved how shy you get whenever he is intimate with you.

"Shh it's my turn amorcito..just eat and I'll get the bath ready" he said getting up and walking to the bathroom to get everything ready.

"Lista princesa??" he said and when you nodded before you could try to get up his arms were already underneath your thighs as he carried you towards the bathroom bridal style.

"I could have tried to walk amor.." you said when he made you sit inside the warm water that felt amazing!!

"You just can't relax and let someone take care of you??" he said and you chuckled while he kissed the top of your head.

"Te amo Pablitoo.." you said and he smiled nodding his head and giving you your favorite book.

"Yo te amo muchisimo mi amor..I will be back when your surprise is ready, bueno? Just relax.." he said and you smiled nodding your head and enjoying some reading while he ran to the nearby florist to grab your favorite bouquet of white orchids.

"Do you want to write something??" girl asked and Pablo was unsure of what to say especially in his messy handwriting. He nodded trying to sound poetic but ended up writing

"To his princesa from her Gavi❤️"

"Amorcito..estas lista??" he said helping you out and dressing you up in his favorite big hoodie and some sweatpants.

"I look like a boy!"you said looking at the mirror at his giant clothes covering both your feet and hands.

"Hm..you're sexy in my clothes preciosa" he said kissing your neck and making you giggle and ask for your surprise.

"Eager, aren't you??" he teased grabbing your hand as you both walked to the kitchen where the bouquet was laid on the table making you gasp and rush to look at it.

"Amor!! It's so beautiful!!" you said realizing the little not stuck on the edge. You knew your boy wasn't much of the writer but even that one sentence meant so much!!

He snuck his arms around you and hid his face int he crook on your neck while you held the card to your chest. You were even tearing up while he left soft kisses all over your skin.

"I'm so sorry I was too rough on you amor.." he said and you turned around in his arms hugging him tightly and leaving small kisses all over his neck.

"Hmm shut up and baby me Gavii!!" you said and he smirked grabbing your thighs and carrying you to the bed for cuddles for the rest of the day.

y.n.bebe

AMORCITOO MIOO @pablogavi

comentarios:

pablogavi: TE AMO PRINCESITAA!!💗💗

aurorapaezg: que preciosos😍😍

mikkykiemeney: 💛💝

gavira.fan.pagess: he's treating her so well!!🤴🏻👸🏻

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barcelona #fc barca #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #gavi x reader #gavi x you #gavi x yn #gavi x vini #pablogavixreadersmut #pablo x reader #pablogavixreaderfluff

[lovebugism]

the customer’s always right just gave me life, they're just so sweet AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | heart-shaped

summary: you think you might be falling in love with eddie. eddie thinks he might be falling for you. a series of stashed away insecurities threaten to get in the way. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 10k holy moly warnings: talks of drugs, shitty boyfriends, and being a whore <3 also reader gets fingered <3 a lil bit of angst, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ah shit here we go again!! thanks for waiting so patiently for me to get over my writer's block and finally post! reading all the feedback for this series has been so nice, all of you guys are so so sweet <333 anyway, pls enjoy this installment and if you don't.. maybe don't tell me :^) happy reading ily!

( PREVIOUSLY) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Truth be told, working the lunch rush at Enzo’s wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It meant you got to miss out on serving all the wine snobs at dinner who send back devoured dishes like it’s their job — insistent on a refund because their food was “unsatisfactory” just to get twice the meal with half the tip.

The rich country club goers you waited on were far more docile in comparison. They arrive dressed in pastel-collared shirts and pretty athletic dresses after finishing up their tennis practices or games of golf.

They sit and talk for hours, dine on the most expensive shrimp and wine, just to leave a tip so ginormous that you have to thank them before they go. It’s a flaunt of wealth more than anything. It might’ve felt the least bit demeaning if it wasn’t going directly into your pockets.

And it would be way too lame of you to say that getting to see Eddie Munson after your shift was the only thing getting you through it at all. That sort of puppy love belonged to high schoolers who don't know any better, you know that… But screw it— knowing you were going to meet him after was the only thing getting you through this mind-numbing, foot-aching, brain-cell-losing, eight-hour shift.

The days, of which there had been four (but, then again, who’s counting?), had been excruciating without him.

You couldn’t even sleep the first night you left his trailer. You felt him everywhere — your mouth, your chest, and between your legs — still buzzing with his touch even halfway across Hawkins.

It had you swearing up and down that the Dungeon Master had some actual powers you didn’t know about. That he’d cast some sort of love spell on you after getting you to come on his thigh.

You quickly learned that Eddie Munson was the kind of boy that girls lose sleep over; the kind of boy that reduces you to your basic schoolgirl tendencies as you grin into your pillow and kick your feet in the air.

It was embarrassing, the effect he had on you.

And you so desperately wanted to blame it on whatever witchcraft the town thought the leader of Hellfire possessed. It was easier than facing the fact that you were head over heels for a stupid boy. 

You didn’t even have time to face it, really, because you were already too busy falling for him. He had you tripping all over yourself and face-planting into the petals of a thousand roses — it was pathetic.

You’d catch yourself smiling whenever you thought of him, grinning like an idiot while you rang up customers at the register — more ecstatic at the idea of Eddie than the hundred-dollar tip they’d left you. It made you giddy to think about seeing him again, enough that it distracted you from the fact that you hadn’t sat down since your shift started.

Eddie had you full of sunshine and rainbows and mirth, like something out of a damn GAP commercial. It was a particular sort of happiness you thought abandoned you a long, long time ago.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You think of Eddie, and a foreign feeling of anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach. It almost makes you sick with childlike excitement. You didn’t know another person was capable of making someone this happy. It’s unfamiliar and daunting and euphoric and really fucking scary. 

It’s an otherworldly feeling that feels like it’s only happening to you. A secret you want to keep to yourself and shout from the rooftops at the same time. People bustle around you, keep on living their mundane lives, and spare not a glance to their lovesick waitress.

No one knows I’m falling in love right now, you find yourself thinking.

But that isn’t exactly true. Jim Hopper knows because that asshole knows everything, and notices almost immediately how strange you’re acting.

The chief of police was always a comforting sight amidst a sea of strangers, most of whom made more in a week than you could ever hope to make in a year. He's a breath of fresh air, as it were, which is strange considering the two of you spent the entirety of your high school career playing cat and mouse.

He’d catch you smoking, threaten to turn you in, and you’d beg him not to — pull out all the stops, the puppy dog eyes, the innocent schoolgirl charm, the whole damn nine to make him melt.

He’d take pity on you and let you off with a warning, as long as you promised never to do it again. And you’d lie to him, tell him it was a one-time thing, and he’d catch you a week or so later — getting high at the quarry or with your hand shoved down the pants of a man too old for you at Lover’s Lake.

And the cycle would keep on repeating for the next four agonizing years until you graduated.

Strangely, somewhere along the line, the two of you became pretty good friends.

Everyone once in a while, he’ll stop by Enzo’s during his breaks to keep you company. He never actually orders food, though, just binges on the endless free breadsticks until the buttons of his uniform threaten to pop. He'll bathe in yellow candlelight and chi-antee for an hour or more and then leave you a too big tip you always have to fight about when he goes.

Your pour the crimson colored wine he’d ordered into his rounded glass, flashing him the label before describing the vintage to him, per your boss’s demand. 

It feels foreign to be so formal in front of Hopper — because, after catching you with a mouthful of Tommy Hagan in a car back in '83, nothing makes either of you uncomfortable anymore. But sometimes it feels like your asshole manager is lurking over your shoulder every damn second of the day.

And having a job is more important than your pride, you figure.

“This is a medium-bodied, acidic tart, ruby red wine. The earthy aroma pairs nicely with the cherry and strawberry notes…” and blah, blah, blah. You’ve repeated the same couple of lines so often you’ve started to say them in your sleep.

“Well, shit, teacup. If you put that much effort into school, you coulda been valedictorian,” Jim quips with a signature dad smirk that’s half-hidden beneath his bushy mustache.

It’s not the first time he’s made that dumb joke, and it won’t be the last.

You roll your eyes more at the nickname than the backhanded compliment, because it isn’t your fault the sasquatch is six-foot-four.

“How much is this one gonna cost me?” he asks you and leans in his plush seat to reach for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Don’t worry about it, lurch. It’s on the house.”

A mischievous glint twinkles in Jim’s eye as he squints up at you. He tucks the leather back into his khakis. “Sure Enzo won’t mind?” he asks you because he hasn’t yet bothered to acknowledge that your boss wasn’t actually named Enzo. 

“Yeah, he’ll be pissed,” you confirm with a shrug. “I just don’t care.”

“Well, you’re in an unrealistically good mood after the lunch rush,” he sing-songs.

You don’t miss the suspicious lilt in his voice. Your smile is equally sarcastic and sickly sweet as you tell him: “It’s ‘cause my favorite customer is here—”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” he interjects with a curt shake of his head. He sits up straighter and leans his elbows on the white linen cloth of the table like he means business. “Who’s the boy?”

“What— I don’t— What are you— boy?” you sputter with a half-hearted laugh. Your stammering isn’t the least bit convincing.

“It’s a boy, right?” he monotones. “You only get all giddy and gross like this when there’s a boy.”

You hate that he knows you so well. It might’ve been sweet if it wasn’t totally infuriating.

To be fair, you did tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you didn’t want to. When you were falling in love, it poured out of you like sunshine and blinded anyone who dared to look too closely.

Golden rays shoot from your fingertips, shine in the irises of your eyes, and flash from your smile — like the one tugging at the edges of your lips now.

It leaves no room to deny what he already knows: that you’re a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy because she hasn’t learned from her stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” you concede with your sheepish gaze flitted to the ceiling. “It’s— It’s dumb. It’s a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Hopper nods, like he’s giving you some kind of blessing. “Good for you. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole— what was his name again? Harrington?”

It makes you roll your eyes. You can’t tell if he’s actually confused or if he’s making fun of you. It would be all too like a middle-aged man to make a misogynistic joke about a girl who’s had more partners than years she’s been alive.

“Hargrove,” you correct in a monotone. Your tone is as bitter as thinking about him makes you feel.

“Him, too,” he quips.

There it is.

“It’s not even like that, okay? It’s not like anything,” you try and deflect like you aren’t beaming and trying horribly to hide it. “He… He probably doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Well, it’s about time you got over that boy, is all I’m saying. You deserve a good guy. A boy treats you right, who has actual aspirations in life, and keeps his nose clean—” he rambles as he brings the wine to his mouth to take a drink. He stops himself to ask: “What's his name again?”

You fidget ahead of him, shifting your weight on your feet awkwardly because good guy who stays out of trouble and has actual aspirations in life isn’t how most people would describe the Munson boy. Jim least of all.

He’s got a similar relationship with Eddie to the one he had with you, though there was little room for friendship between the two. It’s just an outlaw making a living on drugs and a chief trying to catch him dealing it.

“Eddie,” you answer and then clear your throat. “Uh, Eddie Munson…”

The life leaves Jim’s eyes.

There’s no amount of wine in Enzo’s cellar that could’ve prepared him for that — or you, for the twenty-minute lecture that followed.

“I have no words,” he’d scolded you like a disappointed parent but proceeded to rant for nearly half an hour after the fact, in true fatherly fashion.

Hopper knows when you’re falling in love. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and blue skies. It’s all so sweet he could gag. But there’s always another side of that coin — a dark, colder, meaner one. 

Because sometimes boys are cruel, sometimes you really are in over your head, and sometimes relationships don’t work out. And when things go bad, they go rotten, and he has to deal with the storm cloud you become after the fact.

Taking care of you becomes his part-time job, and his check-ins become endless as he makes sure you don’t fall back into your old ways — using and getting used.

And truth be told, you don’t have the best track record with men, and Hopper tries to tell you all this, but it doesn’t get through.

Because you have a good feeling about this. About Eddie.

Fuck all the rest.

Today marks your thirteenth meeting with Eddie.

For such an unlucky number, it’s got you squirming from all the butterflies fluttering in your belly with an excitement more innocent than you’re used to. Like standing in the queue for a rollercoaster in a childlike mixture of apprehension and animation, somehow both frightened and enraptured for what’s to come.

And you’re absolutely bouncing with it. Smiling to yourself in the car with the radio turned all the way up and the windows all the way down, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you belt the lyrics to “Super Trouper” with a beam that could make the sunshine cower. 

It’s all completely and utterly perfect until you become suddenly aware of how unearthly happy you are.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shrink into yourself because… maybe you shouldn’t feel this way. The last time you saw Eddie, he came in his jeans and you got off on his thigh — there was never any room for daydreaming and pining and puppy love-ing, not when you so quickly gave yourself away.

The thought of Eddie not nearly being as happy to see you is what hurts the most. How he had you once and now you’re back to just being the customer he sees once a week.

What if he doesn’t give you weed for free anymore? Fuck that — what if you’re not his favorite? 

And maybe it’s just you, maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you should be passed the point of giddy excitement, maybe it’s uncool, maybe you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s leaving the door open for too much hurt. Maybe Hopper was right.

But you’re happy, at least for right now, and you don’t get the chance to be too often.

Most days, you’re just an accessory — a pretty pebble someone finds on the ground and spends a couple of seconds ogling at before leaving and never thinking about again.

You deserve the chance to be held, don’t you? You should get to be praised and coddled and worshipped like the pretty girls do.

And Eddie makes you feel held. 

So you’ll stick around until he gets bored of you, until you stop being so fun for him. You’ll take the moments of happiness as they’re spoon-fed to you and taste them, really taste them, until you’re starving again. You’ll stay full of this pure puppy love you have for Eddie until it’s time for you to go. 

Because, for now, you’re happy. And isn’t that what matters most?

You don’t know it, but Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma.

He waits for you at the bench you meet him at every week, like you’ve done for months now, but he’s filled with an unfamiliar gaiety as he anticipates your arrival.

He’s so goddamn excited to see you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It borders on a slight uneasiness that makes him sick to his stomach.

Eddie never gets nervous around customers. Not once, not ever.

He’s dealt to weirdos who live on the wrong side of the track, preppy douchebags that shove him into lockers at school, and pretty cheerleaders who pretend he doesn’t exist outside of dealing.

He’s seen it all, really. But you’re the one that’s got him bouncing his knee something fierce beneath the table and tapping his fingers against the rotted top of it while his heart races a million miles a minute.

He’s frightened of being too overeager. He’s scared that you’ll come here, all cool and collected about all of it, and he’ll be the freak show acting like a pretty girl’s never given him an ounce of attention before. They haven’t, but he’d rather not project that sort of disposition. Not to you, at least.

He guesses, more than anything, he’s just afraid of scaring you away.

So Eddie tries to keep the smile on his face hidden — not knowing that it’s your favorite part about him. He tries to be as stoic as possible. He wants to be this cool and mysterious and sexy guy he thinks you want, having no idea that you’d already fallen in love with him before he even realized he needed to be those things for you. 

He’s just about able to wash away his grin when he sees you emerge from the woods and into the small clearing where the lone picnic table lives. 

The pinky plaid skirt you wear rustles against your legs with the breeze, the pleated edges brushing against the skin of your thighs. You pair it with a white piece of Beatles merch that clings to your torso — and fuck he hates the Beatles, but you’re the prettiest thing his cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’s beaming at you before he even realizes it. And by the time he does, he doesn’t feel like the idiot he thought he would.

You’re both sporting matching grins, trying to hide them and failing miserably. His is pursed softly to the side and yours is pulled between your teeth.

You look like the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Eddie thinks to himself. 

His eyes must be the golden of them, you conclude.

When you settle on the bench in front of him, you tuck your skirt neatly beneath you and focus on smoothing out than fabric rather than meet the boy’s gaze. You sport a meek smile and a pair of fidgeting hands that ache to touch him.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly.

He sees your face scrunch in embarrassment at how shy you sound, and the way you almost reach out for his hand but stop yourself just as quickly. He wishes you wouldn’t. He wishes you knew how perfect you were, even when you weren’t totally graceful.

“Hi,” he repeats with a mocking, but no less loving grin, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know… overworked and underpaid,” you shrug. “Just the usual.”

You’re grateful for the small talk. It leaves little room for the awkwardness swimming in your belly. He doesn’t immediately mention what happened the last time you saw him, like people often do when they want to do it all over again. But he isn’t in a hurry to give you your weed so you’ll leave him alone either. That's what people usually do when they want nothing to do with you anymore.

It’s almost like it never happened. 

Or rather, like it did, and he isn’t treating it like a spectacle.

It’s refreshing.

“Boss giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, always. I’m pretty sure that’s what he gets paid to do, actually.”

“Right,” he breathes out a laugh.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, just a blink of a second, but it’s noticeable. The sudden quiet floats on the cool breeze that ruffles Eddie’s wild hair and sends a shiver down your spine. 

In a split-second decision, you decide not to deprive yourself of the urge to touch him. Partly to distract from the stillness, but mostly because the ache had reached a fever pitch.

You’re so enthralled by his hands resting upon the old wood — the veins that decorate the back of them like the roots of a tree, the way his fingers thrum to a beat only he can hear, and the rings that wrap around them.

“Is this new?” you wonder aloud. You take his wrist in one hand and trace the glinting silver on his pointer finger with the other. It’s the bony fingers of a skeleton curved to form a heart. He’s taped the sides to make it fit better. It didn’t belong to him before now. 

Eddie watches, pleasantly surprised, as you dote on him. 

Your eyes glitter golden beneath an early setting sun. They dance with amusement as your fingertip traces his heart-shaped ring. He smiles to himself and wonders how often you’re looking at his hands to notice he’s got a new ring on.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugs. He plays it cool, like his heart isn’t thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest at your touch. “Got it a couple days ago at the thrift store outside of town. It was a whole seventy-five cents.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” he repeats with a scrunched nose and blushing face.

It makes you giggle. “Yeah. You can be cute and badass at the same time, you know?”

“I didn’t know those were mutually exclusive.”

“They weren’t. Not until you came into the world, Eddie Munson.”

He feels cold when you drag your hand away. The kind, almost teasing grin you flash his way warms him all over again. He’s still trying to get used to being so loved on.

You can see the way he gets lost in you for a moment. His cinnamon-tinted gaze, made golden in the sunlight, glazes over as his head gets stranded in the clouds.

The only reason you notice it is because it happens to you. Eddie makes it so terribly easy to float in the deep galaxy of his eyes. Your heart swells to know that it’s happening to him now. Happening to him because he’s looking at you.

You didn’t know you were the kind of girl people could get lost in.

Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, mostly to himself, but enough to jostle the soft curls that frame his face and sit above his eyes.

“Well, I’m honored, sweetheart,” he grins his signature grin, the bright and cocky one, though he’s too shy to make it reach his eyes now. He busies himself and his restless fingers by rifling through the product sitting in the tin box at his side — baggies full of green nuggets and white powdery pills. 

“So, uh, what’s on the menu this week? The usual?”

“I’ve still got my stash from last week,” you confess. “Haven’t really had the time to smoke it yet.”

His eyes flit up to yours again. “…Yeah?” is all he can think to say to you because internally he’s buzzing — you didn’t even need weed, he thinks to himself, you just wanted to see him.

You only shrug. “I’ve just been, like, crazy busy this week.”

Eddie nods understandingly, but can’t help but to joke: “Is that why you haven’t called?”

Because, fuck, if the past couple of days without talking to you haven’t been complete and total agony. He knows it’s a little too brash and brave of him to wonder why you went AWOL when he hasn’t exactly made an effort to seek you out either. 

Not for lack of wanting to, though. He’d like to put that on record.

“Well, I didn’t call because I don’t have your number,” you retort with a smile that toes the line between cunning and timidity. “So, you can’t really blame me for that.”

He huffs dramatically. “Guess not.”

“It’s probably for the best. If I could call you, I’d never leave you alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d want you to,” he dismisses your negative talk with ease.

You warm with his words and duck your gaze on instinct. You keep your eyes on your hands while you fidget with your fingers, wishing that they were his instead. “Just don’t want to bother you or whatever, you know?”

“You could never bother me.”

“Promise?” you ask him. Your smile is playful, but your words are sincere.

Eddie’s is much of the same. “Cross my heart.”

“How about this — I give you my number and you just call whenever you’re free,” you offer, more confident at the boy’s admission and glowing with it. “‘Cause, you know, Wayne probably wouldn’t appreciate me clogging up the phone line very much.”

“He wouldn’t notice… Or care,” he tells you and pulls out an old pen from his tin box. His sparkling deep brown eyes stay locked on you as you rise from your side of the bench and round the table to sit next to him.

You’re obviously not as nervous as he’d been at the trailer all those nights ago, when he had to practically be beckoned over to realize you wanted him beside you.

You sit opposite him, with your knees pointed away from the bench. You get to be closer to him this way. Your thigh presses against his as you twist towards him, your chest mere inches from his arm, your mouth even closer.

You write a series of numbers on his forearm that Eddie can’t make out because he’s too busy looking at you. He admires the frown between your brows as you struggle to get the ink to write and the way your lips purse to the side in concentration.

“Wayne would actually be pretty stoked I was talking to a girl—” he jokes with a laugh though he’s quick to cut himself off like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

His admission was supposed to be funny, something the rest of Hellfire would’ve laughed at because they know him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t really want you to. You’ve already got this idea of him in your head. He lives in agony that he won’t be able to live up to it.

He’ll just have to fake it, he concludes. Fake it until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t read into his words too much.

“He wants you to settle down, huh?” you joke back, half-distracted as you doodle a heart onto his skin.

“Wants me to move out, more like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the bed.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, right. That old geezer’s practically in love with his Laz-E-Boy.”

He watches with glimmering eyes as you laugh. Then he’s smiling because you’re smiling. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to look at you. How could anyone possibly look at you and not hold so much love in their eyes?

You haven’t yet let go of his arm, he notices, as you cradle his wrist in your grasp and swipe your thumb over the blotchy blue veins there. Your gaze is pointed down to where you hold him. There’s a distant grin on your face as you admire such a minute piece of him.

He wants so badly to kiss you.

He could. All he’d have to do, really, is move his head a couple inches and he’d brush the apple of your cheek. The skin would warm against his lips until he ducked down to kiss you for real. 

And he feels just bold enough to ask you, but not quite enough to say the words out loud. Instead, they sit impatiently on the edge of his tongue while he waits for the right moment to say them. The wind blows, and it passes.

“It wouldn’t be totally crazy if I kissed you right now, would it?” you ask him first, looking at him through your lashes like you’re scared he might reject you.

He glows pink, momentarily stunned that you beat him to the punch, then worried that you might’ve read his mind. He plays it cool with a shrug and a shake of his head. “No… Not unless it’s totally crazy how bad I want you to kiss me right now.”

You don’t waste any time. You gravitate towards him like you were made to do it and he meets you easily halfway.

When your lips lock, it feels like a routine. Kissing you is like a cup of coffee and the morning paper and a rocking chair on a front porch — something he could do forever and ever and not get bored of.

You kiss him so soft, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with him, but your tongue swipes into his open mouth, and it’s dirty. 

Eddie still isn’t sure how a person could touch him the way you do. You’re all sweet, like you’re frightened you might break him, but you aren’t scared to kiss him like he’s yours.

As good as it feels to have him against you this way, the position you’re in isn’t any less awkward. Your upper-half is still twisted to face him and he has to lean slightly over to touch you completely.

He explores the cavern of your mouth with a more confident tongue than you remember him having while ten ringed fingers press into your ribs. 

Eddie can feel your mouth contort in a smile. He thinks it’s because he’s tickling you, but you’re just in love and totally giddy with it.

The wooden edge of the bench digs into your spine. The ache distracts you from feeling him the way you want to — the way you need to — so you make a split-second decision to rise from your seat and rest your bottom on the table.

Your lips click wetly, almost out of protest, when they part.

You use the palms of your hands to lift you and prop your sneakers on the bench seat when you sit down again. You wait patiently for Eddie to accommodate you, to rise and keep kissing you the way he was just kissing you. 

He does. Eventually.

He just needed a few moments to gather himself when your new position flashes him the faintest glimpse of your panties — all black and dotted with little red hearts that have started to fade with time.

His eyes widen and he everts his gaze immediately. His cheeks and the tip of his nose go red, like he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. It’s sort of stupid. You were getting off on his thigh some days ago, and now you’re kissing him like you mean to swallow him whole, surely you wouldn’t mind him peeking.

If he were someone totally different, he might’ve spread your legs, dug his fingers into the fat of your thighs, and put his mouth on you like he wanted to do three nights ago — like he’s been wanting to do for ages.

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, for what feels like forever, feeling like a total idiot.

But if you notice his hesitancy, you don’t show it. You just cup his warm cheeks in your hands and drag him up to you. Eddie isn’t enough of a dumbass to reject your affections.

He happily melts into your touch once more while the both of you maneuver like a bunch of lovesick teenagers around the bench — rather than just part momentarily to move more efficiently.

You round the table so you’re propped on the outside of it and Eddie’s no longer confined in the seat. If making out and multitasking was an olympic sport, you and Eddie would take the gold, no doubt.

It’s hopelessly high school, the way you make out like teenagers in some clearing, known only to Eddie’s most loyal customers and a golden orange sky. 

It feels rebellious and raunchy, like you’ve just snuck out of Mr. Kaminsky’s lecture on chemical bonds to fuck under the bleachers. You kiss each other and it feels like you’re doing something so much more than yourselves.

Eddie touches you and you feel like a kid again. Everything’s just new experiences and stomachs full of butterflies — heartache is virtually nonexistent. 

As far as you’re concerned, you’ve never been kissed before now. 

You had no idea someone could hold so much love in their mouth and then kiss you with it. You’re so used to tongue and teeth and spit, not these slow and sweet pecks that feel like white clouds and summer rain.

Every now and then, Eddie will slot his kiss-bitten bottom lip between the plush of your swollen mouth. And he’ll just stay there, for several long moments, just to feel you. His ringed fingers rise to cradle your jaw to keep you against him. His nose knocks against the bridge of yours and his heavy breaths fan against your cupid’s bow.

You’re not sure why he does this, why he chooses to be so soft with you when he knows he could have you however he wants. You’re a kitten purring against his chest now, all pliable and willing for him, but he just likes how still and soft you are like this.

You let him kiss you the way he likes. You notice he takes acute infatuation with your bottom lip, biting softly and pulling at the skin until it’s a plump pink thing for him to suck into his mouth.

Every swipe of his tongue against yours is experimental and methodical. He finds what makes you exhale the heaviest moans and keeps doing that until you’re a puddle of a woman in his hands.

Oh, god. His hands.

It’s almost unfair how kind they are. 

One keeps a steady, warm hold on your cheek. He can feel the way you start to soften as you lean more and more into his touch. The other has fallen to your thigh. His fingertips settle beneath the skirt you picked out specifically for him, but don’t move any further than that.

He just likes the feel of you, it seems, as he pets the softness of your skin. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze and marvel at the feeling of your thigh in his grasp and the way it makes you moan against him. The feeling of his silver rings against you makes chill bumps erupt on your skin.

You’re unsure if he knows the effect he has on you. Surely, he must, you figure — just days ago you were falling apart on his thigh and here you are now, willing to do it all over again. 

He touches you like he knows. Like he takes pleasure in teasing you until you’re all but begging for more. And you’re not the least bit ashamed to do it, either. His touch, his hand down your panties, it isn’t a want — it’s a need.

You take Eddie’s wrist in your impatient hand, moving his palm further and further beneath your skirt until it’s pressed against the dampening cotton of your underwear. “Touch me, Eds,” you plead against his mouth, already breathless.

The boy tenses.

It’s a dream come true in the most literal sense, to feel you like this. You cling to his consciousness wherever he goes. You’ve spent so many nights plaguing his dreams that they’ve started to feel like nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and shuddering with cold sweats at the mere thought that he’d never get to have you the way he always dreamt of having you. 

But it’s here now, lying beneath a heart-patterned cloth, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

He’s not scared of you exactly, just of everything else. 

His hand has never gotten anyone off but himself. He’s scared that he won’t make you feel good, or worse, that he’ll hurt you — he’s scared of himself. He’s terrified of losing you and you’re not even his. 

It’s everything else that frightens him, but not you. Not when you’ve got your legs spread out before him and begging him to touch you. Not when you act like you want to be his.

Rather than deprive himself of the dream of you, Eddie decides to hook his pointer finger around the hem of your panties and slide them to the side.

With your pussy concealed by the pleated skirt you wear, he’s forced to work blindly while he touches you. He doesn’t mind, though. He takes the opportunity to feel you as it’s presented to him on a silver platter — the softness of your lips, the trimmed mound of hair above them, the slick coating your warmed skin.

You feel like silk and velvet. A material that’s far too expensive to touch. It makes him feel like he’s ruining you in some way.

Eddie’s open-mouthed, heavy breaths fan against your lips, all nicotine and mint gum. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him — billowing across your jaw, pressed between your thighs, fingers treating your pussy like it’s a piece of delicate art.

“More,” you beg in a dream-coated sigh and spread yourself further for him. You’ve got one hand twisted in his leather jacket and the other flipping up the skirt of your dress, putting yourself on display for him — a piece of delicate art indeed.

You’re laid out before him, all at once, bare and glistening with need. 

He’s seen plenty of vaginas in his time, usually photographed in a centerfold of a magazine or half-blurry through a botched VHS tape. But, for obvious reasons, you’re quite different. 

You’re beautiful. The kind of beauty that men would’ve fallen on their swords for a time ago, the kind you’re lucky to see in a lifetime. That’s a bit what it feels like to look at you. He looks at you, and he sees a cotton candy sunset over mountains that touch the clouds or clear blue waters that go on for infinity.

Even like this, with your pussy on display for him — in a moment that’s supposed to be dirty — it’s a serene sort of beautiful. You need to be hung up in a museum, Eddie thinks to himself, in the Louvre or some shit — because a freak show from the middle of nowhere shouldn’t get to just have you like this.

He slots his middle finger between your lips, for once not overthinking when the urge to feel you takes over. You soak his appendage with ease, the slick only adding to your softness. He dips down to the dimple of your opening and rises to the peak of your swelling clit. He notices how it makes you twitch against him. 

It feels like being you’re touched for the first time. Unfolded and cherished like some sort of expensive gift. You’re not used to this sort of tenderness. No one’s taken things this slow with you before. The way he’s making you feel good is for him just as much as it is for you. It’s unfamiliarly blissful to be handled with so much care.

Eddie watches with heavy and attentive eyes as your head tips back, like you’re starting to drown in your own pleasure and unbothered to keep yourself afloat. Your contented sighs and gentle tremors spur him forward. Those subtle praises almost equal the pleas that spill from your kissed mouth. 

It makes him stop worrying about how to do all this without being totally obvious that he’s never done any of it before.

Everything he knows, he’s gotten from poorly produced porn. He doesn’t want to treat you like that. Like you’re some toy or plaything or a game to be won. He wants to take things slow and treat you right because it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that no one’s ever done that for you.

He’ll be your first, if you’ll be his.

He finds himself grateful for how responsive you are. He doesn’t need to know everything there is to know about sex or ask you for direction like an idiot because your pussy tells him what to do. 

You tremble every time the pad of his finger swipes against your clit. He can feel you clench around nothing every time he dips towards your opening, as if in a silent plea. You tell him what you like without saying anything, but rather by drenching him in clear-coated honey.

His eyes have trouble flitting away from your pleasure-ridden face and down to where he coaxes you open. His finger glistens with your wetness. Beneath a setting sun, it looks like the sparkling rays over an ocean.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost moaning. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Sorry…” you mutter meekly.

“What?” Eddie finds himself laughing softly, brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden embarrassment. That’s not the response he was expecting. “Why are you apologizing?”

Your skin burns hot at his question — no longer warmed from pleasure, but out of pure self-consciousness. It’s a conversation you’re used to now, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. With his finger still caught in your drenched pussy, you find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze and instead peer at him through your lashes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Some guys think it’s gross… And messy—”

“Screw ‘em,” he blurts. His brown eyes twinkle with a newfound confidence, not one of the unabashed metalhead drug dealer, but one of a boy whose head over heels for a girl who doesn’t know what it means to be truly cared for. “It’s sexy,” he assures you.

A shy smile hints at the corners of your lips, innocently comforted by the promise and pleased by the compliment. “Really?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wholehearted nod. He means it more than anything he’s ever said. “Cross my goddamn heart.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours then, just because it feels right to, and you graciously accept his affection. 

Eddie’s kisses come in innocent, loving pecks that are far too sweet in comparison to the way he’s making you feel. His finger traces the slick gathering at your opening, not having to force his way in because your pussy is more than wanting.

Both of you let out low moans when he’s finally inside of you. He doesn’t stop until the silver of his ring is pressed into the outside of your pussy.

You’re wrapped around him like velvet, warm and tight velvet that won’t let him go. He works hard to find a steady rhythm that you like and watches your every reaction intently.

You’ve got your lip dragged between your teeth, biting so hard that the fragile skin has started to blanch. Your eyes have fluttered slowly shut with a frown forming between your brows in a vague concentration as you focus on your own pleasure.

You seem to like it most when he’s crooking his finger rather than thrusting them inside of you. At least, that’s what he assumes, as he reaches a much softer spot within you that makes you jolt against him.

Your hand darts to his wrist, not to tug him away or pull him any closer, just to tether yourself to him.

“Can you— fuck—” you sputter when the palm of his hand bumps against your clit. “Can you add another finger? Please?”

You’re all whiny and breathy like you’re begging him, like there’s any chance he might deny you. Eddie’s not exactly in the business of saying no to you. 

He slides his ring finger in with his middle. He marvels at how snugly they fit inside you and how the sticky nectar coats his skin. Your wetness has gathered around his silver rings, including the one with the skeleton hand you were complimenting earlier.

He doesn’t ever want to wash them again... Not that he ever did in the first place, but he makes a vow not to start now.

Eddie doesn’t know it, but this is the part where you usually get embarrassed. Sometimes you think you’re too sensitive, too responsive. You’ve found that there’s a threshold between being sexy and being needy that most guys tend to enjoy. But, for you, it's a finicky thing and you find yourself crossing it before you realize it.

You moan too loud, talk too much, whine too often. Nearly everyone you’ve ever been with has said so in some way or another — mostly in gentle approaches that are observations more than anything. But some boys aren’t so nice. They say that you get too turned on, the wetness coating your pussy is evidence of that, and they tell you that’s it’s gross.

But here, now, with Eddie, there’s little room for embarrassment.

He tells you that you’re pretty, swears up and down that the way your slick trickles down his fingers is sexy. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself actually believing someone who tells you that.

You let him pry you open with slow and meticulous touches. You can feel his bent fingers deep inside you, exploring the slick velvet of your walls, and rubbing at the spot that makes you keen. It’s got your back arching and thighs trembling by his waist, toes curling inside your sneakers while you keep a tight grip on his wrist.

“Rub my clit, Eds,” you plead breathlessly with your eyes shut tight. You’re about to come, you can feel the tightening coil in the pit of your belly, you just need a little bit more. “Please, Eddie— please, touch my clit—”

He’s hasty in his attempts to comply to your request. He barely lets the words leave your mouth before he presses the pad of his thumb just above the hood of your clit. And it doesn’t feel bad per se, it actually feels pretty damn good, it’s just not where you need him most.

It’s not the first time a guy’s had trouble finding your clit and you figure it won’t be the last, so you opt guide him with a helping hand. You maneuver his thumb until it’s pressed snuggly against your swollen button. 

Eddie watches attentively as it makes you whine. You arch your back, pressing yourself further against him, as a moan rises from the depths of your chest and spills out of your mouth. You pull him somehow closer by the lapel of his jacket. 

He takes every unspoken criticism to heart, along with every one of your wordless praises. His acute attention to what you like the most — how his thumb on your clit makes you clench around him, how you moan every time he rubs against that foreign spongy spot inside of you, and how he keeps on doing that because he can tell that you like it — sends you to an otherworldly place pleasure.

It’s different from guys that are just good from experience. Most do the same old shit that gets their girl off because they know they’ll get off in the end, too.

Eddie’s attentiveness is unfamiliar and spellbinding, all-consuming and unavoidable. A pleasure you’re both chasing and wanting to run away from out of fear it might be too much.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to you, breath fanning across your cheek.

You nod wordlessly in reply, with your lip caught between your teeth as you fight to bite back the cry building in your throat. It’s hard to when he’s so intently hitting every spot that makes you dizzy. The moan that inevitably spills from your mouth sounds wet, like you might really start to cry.

“Fuck,” you wail when your stomach tenses. His fingers, deep in the confines of your pussy and rubbing at your clit, are relentless. Pleasure’s biting at your ankles now and you have no way to stop it from swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Eds—”

Your mouth hangs open as you drop your head down to watch him work you open.

His ringed fingers are coated with you, a sheen of honey that drips down his fingers and onto the silver wrapped around them. You’re hopelessly spread open for him, your pussy blooming like a flower at the promise of springtime for the boy, and then tightening around him to keep him trapped inside you.

It’s dirty, like a lewd piece of art that you can’t help but gawk out.

You fight to keep your heavy eyes open. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but it’s a harder feat than you could’ve ever imagined. Pleasure rises so violently in you. You’re frightened you might burst entirely.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. It’s a warning to you but for him, it’s a promise. Your head tilts back again, face scrunched in a gentle sort of horror, like you’re scared at how good you feel. “Please don’t stop. Oh my god, Eds— Please don’t stop. Please, please, please—”

Eddie presses a gentle kiss to the buzzing skin of your cheek. He whispers his slurred promises there, too. “I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not gonna stop until you want me to, ‘kay? Not until you’re pushing me away. Wanna make you come so many times you can’t take it—”

You clenched around him at his words. His fingers, trapped in your velvet, struggle to move within you as you tighten. The thumb on your clit works you through your orgasm.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan while your hand grips his wrist something fierce. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, striking you like lightning so suddenly, and reducing you to a shuddering mess on the picnic table in front of him.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers in your ear through his own trembling breaths. “Yeah, keep going for me— keep coming.”

You comply.

You don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

Your orgasm runs over you like a dozen fucking freight trains. You’re caught in your own riptide of pleasure, drowning in it with no way of getting out. With no choice but to endure it, you whine and writhe against him while his hand stays trapped between your trembling thighs. It forces you to feel all of it until you can’t take it anymore. Just like he promised.

The pleasure passes. The vice-like grip your pussy had on his fingers lessens. The high fades. But Eddie keeps going. You don’t feel much of it at first, still pleasantly numb and buzzing, then you realize how sensitive you are.

He crooks his fingers faster, rubbing against the swollen spot inside you, while the pad of his thumb presses steadily against your clit.

You’re sloppy and wet and still gushing from the fading orgasm. A second one wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not with Eddie touching you the way he is just now, but you’re scared that it might be too much.

The I can barely see, we need to lay down a towel, hold me while I float into subspace sort of too much.

“Mm-mm,” you hum softly in protest, twitching against him while you squeeze his wrist. You feel his fingers still within you.

A lazy smile plays on your lips as you tilt your face towards an orange sun, all fucked out and beautiful. Eddie could stare at you for ages and find something new to love.

“No more. I need… Need a break.”

You shudder when his fingers drag slowly out of you, trying hard not to jostle you too much. The pads of them have started to prune slightly. His ring and middle finger stick together with a mixture of your come, he separates them to watch your honey stretch and break apart. 

He doesn’t know what to do with them. If he should wipe them on his jeans, or if that would be too barbaric of him. If he should stick them in his mouth to finally get a taste of you, or if you might think that’s too much.

You beat him to the punch, just like you always do, as you grab him by the wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes are still half-closed as you run your tongue over his skin, sucking at them like they were his cock — god, he wishes it were his cock.

He watches you with his own heavy gaze and an agape plump pink mouth, stunned at how you could do something so sexy without thinking. He has no idea how you manage to find ways to become more beautiful just when he thinks you’ve run out.

When you pull off of him, you do it all slow, like you’re teasing him. A soft, wet pop sounds when your lips leave his fingers. You smile like a fucking minx at him when you do.

“Was that— Was that good for you?” Eddie asks you with a nervous, doe-eyed chocolate button gaze. You’re unsure how he could make you feel so good and then worry that it still wasn’t enough.

“It was perfect, Eds,” you promise, then joke: “If you don’t believe me… believe the wet spot you made me leave on this fucking table.”

It makes both of you laugh like a pair of lovesick idiots. 

Your hands rise to his jaws, fingers getting lost in his wild curls as you drag him to you again.

He keeps a pair of steady hands on your hips as you lick hungrily into his mouth, kissing him like you haven’t gotten tired of kissing him yet. And when you part, you leave one, two, three more pecks against his lips.

“So… This is what you came out here for, huh?” Eddie jokes with his signature stupid grin that you want to kiss all over again. “You didn’t even want the weed, you just wanted to use me. I’m wounded, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Came out here to see you… This part was just a bonus.”

He happily accepts the kiss you give him, though he tenses against you when your hands travel from his jaw and to his chest, trickling down his torso like drops of rain until they rest on his belt. 

“Something tells me you don’t mind either way,” you murmur against him when your palm settles against his hard cock trapped in his tight jeans.

He can hardly hear you, though, too trapped in his own head. 

He can’t fuck you out here, not like this.

Maybe it’s too stereotypical for a virgin, but he wants his first time with you to be on a real bed and not some bench that threatens you with splinters. He wants to wine and dine you, and treat you right like he’s supposed to, not fuck you in the middle of nowhere like you’re a plaything he can do whatever he wants with.

But he doesn’t know how to tell you all this, so he parts from you with a wet click and shakes his head. “You don’t— You don’t have to—”

“I want to, Eds,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“I can’t… I mean, I guess, I’m not really…” he stammers out. He has no idea what to say to you, totally at a loss of how to turn you down. The way you clutch his covered dick, make his toes curl in his sneakers and his brain go all stupid, doesn’t exactly help either.

“What?” you tease with a light-hearted chuckle as you squeeze his rock-solid cock through the denim. “Not really hard?”

“No, it’s just…” he breathes out a laugh, or rather tries to.

He watches with wide and frightened eyes as you work at his belt buckle, struggling to unfasten it without his assistance. There’s a tug-of-war playing in his brain right now, because he wants you — he wants you so bad — but not like this.

Not when he hasn’t been completely honest with you.

It’s not fair to either of you. 

Least of all when he has to turn you away without explaining why.

“I don’t think we— we really shouldn’t,” he tries to let you down easy, but to you it just sounds like he’s being coy, playing with you so you’ll beg to suck his cock. And you keep on going because you’re not totally above that. “No, really. I can’t— seriously, stop. We need to stop.”

The sudden firmness in his voice makes you still. Eddie’s never talked to you like that before. The stern, foreign words he spits at you tells you that he’s serious.

You jerk away from him like he’s burned you.

Embarrassment sets fire to your face.

“Sorry. I just— I thought that— I just wanted to return the favor,” you stammer out in an apology, frightened you’ve crossed a line with him.

No one’s ever turned down a blowjob from you before. Most times, that’s all guys want.

“No, yeah, I know,” Eddie nods understandingly when he sees how you’ve started to shrink into yourself. He steps back from you and tucks his belt back through the loop of his jeans “I just… I— I have more customers coming… And everything, so…”

“Right.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really, you know— I don’t want them to see…” he trails off with a shrug because that’s easier than saying, I don’t want them to see you sucking my dick. No one deserves to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.

It would’ve been something short of a compliment had he said it out loud. You would’ve blushed with a shy, cheeky smile — “For your eyes only, huh?” you would’ve teased like you weren’t enlightened by the prospect of belonging to him and him only.

But because he doesn’t say that, you take on a whole other meaning to his words. I don’t want them to see me with the town whore, you can imagine him thinking. I might be the freak, but being associated with the slut would be a whole new low. 

Maybe it’s irrational thinking, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to you. The fear has turned into a full-blown phobia.

You’ve made a boogeyman out of the clothes in your closet because you’re so frightened of him leaving you. And he doesn’t even fucking belong to you.

“Right,” you echo with a nod. “Okay.”

You find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze as you slip off the bench, sliding your panties back into place before pulling your skirt down again.

You’re so deep in your own head, wallowing in your woe, that when Eddie leans down to kiss you, you jerk away from on instinct. Like your body’s telling you not to play with fire, something that’s destined to burn you.

Because Eddie can’t ever belong to you. In some ways, you can’t really belong to him either, not when you’ve belonged to half of Hawkins.

But your wordless rejection sends a shock to his heart, a bolt of blue that pierces the beating organ. Your denial feels like heartbreak and you can see the anguish coat his features. He looks at you look a wounded puppy, glassy eyes going wide and thick brows frowning softly as he wonders what he did so wrong.

You kiss him anyway, if only to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong — that it’s all you and your stupid brain that won’t let you enjoy a good thing while you’ve got it. It’s the briefest little peck, a brush of your lips against his, and it has his mouth tingling anyway.

“I’ll call you later?” he says to you, though it comes out as more of a question than he intended it to.

You shrug with pursed lips, then try your best to smile. “Whatever you want.”

Eddie watches you walk away and feels like an idiot to let you go. 

He can tell that he’s upset you. You’ve had too many shitty experiences with guys not to be weary of another, and he knows that.

But he also knows he’s a total fucking coward — he’s always ran away from things, never towards something. Because that shit? — That shit was fucking scary, even for a so-called devil-worshipping freak.

But he finds himself hurrying towards you anyway.

His raggedy sneakers practically float on air as something short of muscle memory carries him towards you before you can get too far away.

And when he reaches you, he takes you by the arm, spins you and pulls you towards him. You barely get the chance to blink before he presses his mouth against yours.

He cradles you by the neck, resting large palms on either side of it, as he slots his lips against yours. And he does that thing where he just rests his kiss there, just feels you. 

Eddie notices when you relax against him. You sigh against his cupid’s bow, your hands fall to his waist, and you melt totally into him. Your lips untangle slowly and tingle when he parts from you. You know you’ll be feeling him there all night… there and everywhere else.

“I’m gonna call you later,” he tells you, voice confident and unwavering.

He hopes you understand what he really means by them — whatever you want, you’d said when you saw how unsure he was. And now he’s telling you what he wants, not to make some stupid phone call, but that he wants you.

He can tell you get the hint when you smile at him. It looks like the pinky-orange sunset that bathes you in warm-colored hues. 

You nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson x reader #published by bug

[wystericwoes]

Just rewatched JJK and my god the things nanami made me FEEL. My brain immediately started to think about how he would be in a relationship and I’m currently sobbing in the dark right now, I’m so in love with this man

SFW and NSFW

SFW:

Nothing just…

Gentleman treatment that he thinks is normal and doesn’t understand why you’re so obsessed with it. He ties your shoes for you, he gets you fresh flowers but always keeps one in for himself so he can see when they wilt to get you new ones <333. One of his love languages is cooking and you’ll never get over the way he always wants you try out new dishes he made for you. When he gets you trinkets everywhere he goes that remind him of you, or when he remembers all the things you say. He really thinks it’s all the bare minimum buy you still melt.

Long talks at night when both of you are tired but just can’t go to sleep because you just keep the conversation going.

He does things that he doesn’t understand why you like you just do because he knows it makes you happy <3 Like pictures of his hands and rolling up his sleeves halfway when he cooks. Or your weird obsession with sweatpants and compression shirts.

He entertains all your obsessions and quirks and never makes fun of you. You want that $70 dollar squishmallow? Goddamit you’re getting it. Even when you insist he shouldn’t and it was just a thing you thought of

“Why? Because it makes you happy.”

Nanami coming home from overtime late at night seeing you all curled up in bed. You’re wearing one of his shirts and his heart aches at how cute you are, little moments like these makes him just fall in love with you as he sees your rhythmic breathing and slips into bed, you’re asleep but you just wrap your arms around him instinctively.

He doesn’t always understand your humor or your tastes but he doesn’t care. When he sees you smile he smiles. Even if he has no idea what a “bombastic side eye” is.

When he does put in an effort to learn slang and gen-z humor he’s always somehow four years behind.

“Would this constitute as, ‘spilling the tea’? He just randomly said one day as you were ranting about work or something.

You almost choke on your own spit from laughing and he didn’t realize that it was that funny. You didn’t have it in your heart to explain to him that no one uses that anymore, and you instead tell him how proud of him you are. Or sometimes he’ll show you a minion meme on Facebook and you laugh at how silly he is sometimes trying. He still to this day seeks those things out thinking you laugh because the meme itself is funny, because all he looks for is what makes you laugh and smile.

He says things that are actually funny so casually you never even notice right away until you think about it after a second. His sheer sarcasm and wit never ceases to entertain you and challenge you endlessly.

NSFW:

Not once did he ever make an advancement on you without you either saying you wanted it or doing it first. Now, everytime you mention this he always insists that this is what everyone should do, and he quirks a brow as you somehow have gotten even more hot and bothered by his communication. He’s such a gentleman at heart he forgets how many other men don’t do the same.

The thing about him is that he’s just so hot without even trying.

You’re on his lap in a mostly dark room with nothing but candlelight, you’ve just had an amazing make out session, his tie is loose, his hair is ruffled, and his face is hot. As much as he wants to do to you he still whispers in your ear asking what you want. And with the heat of the moment, his deep voice and staggered breaths just absolutely pushes you over the edge. You don’t know how to tell him all the absolute pure sinful filth that he makes you think without even trying. To him he’s just asking a question.

Or sometimes in the opposite sense, he accidentally dirty talks his way into your bed with his honesty.

“I’ve thought about fucking you in my office for a while now...”

He said with a finger under his chin. He just said it so casually one night during a normal conversation.

He’s so blissfully ignorant to the effect that he has over you. that’s a curse and blessing.

It leads to him not understanding why you’re suddenly turned on when all he was doing was folding laundry, or when he stretched in his chair and then that led to you to fucking in the bathroom. Other times it’s hilarious seeing him so confused as to how you could possibly be so into him.

He’s excellent at taking his time with you. Your needs come first, even if you don’t know what you want he’ll always figure it out to give you the best of himself he can offer.

The idea of someone being interested into him wasn’t new, but the realization that you were sexually attracted to him just by existing was completely new.

His endurance is insane. It’s usually whenever you’re done. Because hardly ever could he be brought to the point of quitting

The amount of self control he has to exude when he’s with you is absolutely wild. You never knew until one night during he was really focused and agitated for some reason. You were cockwarming him, and for the longest time you thought that he was infinitely patient, that nothing you could’ve done would have ever made him crazy.

You were so desperate and were writing around him trying to feel just the slightest bit of movement. You involuntarily clench around him and you start to hear him take a sharp inhale everytime you do, you got curious and trekked into dangerous waters of seeing how much you could tease him. He was working on paperwork, the sound of his pen would stop and then go back into writing again everytime you moved or twitched. This had been going on for what felt like hours… you had insisted on joining him at work because you missed him too much. He agreed under the condition that you didn’t distract him.

He knew deep down that it wouldn’t have worked out anyway. But he kept cutting corners for you.

“Fine. one kiss.”

“You can sit on me but you have to be quiet.”

“Only if you don’t move.”

You became a whimpering desperate mess. You didn’t care about the agreement anymore he was taking forever!

You had your nails digging to the back of his neck, other hand on his shoulder trying to keep yourself quiet as you kept whimpering into his ear

You were starting to think he didn’t care at all until one particular clench and you heard a clean snap becauee he had broken his pen in his hand.

His other hand flew to your hips and grabbed on with a brutal force that happened so sudden you jumped

He rested his forehead on your shoulder and took a deep breath in.

So you did have an affect on him after all…

Feeling him lose control made you only more horny. You wondered how far you could push him before you heard his fist slam down on the table and he mumbled into your ear

“I asked you to not move.”

You muttered out a quiet sorry, you just couldn’t control yourself sitting around him like this. The curve of his dick just hit you so perfectly.

“Why won’t you fuck me?”

You had moaned into his ear

“Is that what you want?”

Fucking obviously! You shifted your hips against his one more time as he increased his grip on your hip with a bruising force making you let out an involuntary moan.

“You were so quiet I thought you didn’t want to..”

He looked into your eyes, lifting up his glasses

“Of course I do.”

“You didn’t show it.”

Both your breaths were hitched, you were giving him these “fuck me” eyes and it took every ounce of restraint within him not to do what he wanted.

He let out another strong exhale

“It takes me everything I have to not lose control with you.”

Fuck you were so horny right now you couldn’t even think right. His sudden assertiveness and desperation, the way you had been ready for him for so long and you just had to sit there, his hands, everything.

“Why do you hold yourself back?”

“I have to know you want it first.”

“I do!” You whined at him

“Are you sure?” He gave you a pleading look.

“Yes! Please, please ‘nami…”

You buried your face in his neck

The last thing you remembered clearly was him muttering “fuck” under his breath.

#jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #smut #jjk smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento #kento x you #jujutsu kaisen nanami #fanfiction #fanfic #jujutsu nanami #jujutsukaisen fanfiction

[dontyouworrydaddy]

𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒

Mike Schmidt x fem! Reader

summary: It‘s your and Mike‘s second year anniversary 💘💘

warning: none :)

A/N: this is soooo short and I‘m so sorry :( Also I‘m sorry for disappearing for so suddenly. I literally had a mental breakdown because of tumblr and not saving the fanfic I wrote💀 Yes I‘m dramatic… But to be fair it was very well written etc. etc.

Anyways hope you enjoy. Love youuuu <333

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The city lights twinkled like distant stars and the beautiful view reminded you of Mike’s eyes. Always full with hope and twinkling with a bright light. It’s a thing you noticed about him in the early days of you guys dating.

Celebrating your two-year anniversary, Mike had planned everything to perfection - a fancy dinner at your favorite restaurant followed by a romantic stroll through the park. The laughter and love-filled conversations made the evening magical.

"You know, I still can't believe it's been two years," Mike said, his eyes gleaming with affection.

"I know, right? It feels like just yesterday when we met. I can‘t believe how fast time passes by…" you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

The park was beautifully quiet with just the gentle rustling of leaves creating a soothing melody. However, as the night grew deeper, a chill crept into the air, and your high heels began to make your feet ache.

"Mike, I think I'm getting a bit cold... and my feet are killing me," you said, trying to mask your discomfort.

Immediately, Mike stopped and took off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. "You should have told me sooner, Y/N," he said, concern lacing his voice.

The warmth of his jacket was a welcome relief. You smiled, feeling cared for. "Thank you, Mike. You always know how to make me feel better."

As you continued to walk, your steps became slower due to the pain in your feet. Noticing this, Mike gently scooped you up in his arms without a word, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

"Mike, you don't have to—"

"Shh, it's our special day. I want to take care of you," he interrupted with a tender smile.

The world seemed to fade away as you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The walk to his home was filled with comfortable silence, the kind only shared by two hearts in sync.

Arriving home, Mike carefully set you down on the sofa. "Let me get you into something more comfortable," he said, heading to his bedroom to fetch you some clothes.

Dressed in his old band shirtshirt and soft sweatpants (that is way too big for you), you felt a sense of belonging. Mike then led you to his bedroom, where he gently tucked you into bed, ensuring you were comfortable.

"Thank you for everything, Mike. Tonight was perfect," you murmured, your eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Anything for you, my beautiful beautiful love. My future wife. Happy anniversary," he replied, his voice soft and full of love.

Mike slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around you. You snuggled closer to him, feeling safe and cherished. As you both drifted off to sleep, knowing the love you feel will never die. In fact, it will grow stronger each day passing.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schimdt x reader #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy‘s x reader #fanfic #mike x reader #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x female reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf y/n

[greg-montgomery]

in regards to the soft aaron thoughts, imagine jack being sick and aaron coming in to check on him but jack asking for you and referring to you for the first time as mom. something along the lines of "can you ask mom to come lay down with me?"

i’m going to CRY

♡ it’s really early in the morning so you’re still asleep. aaron always wakes up at ungodly hours so he is veeeeery quiet bc he doesn’t wanna wake you up (cause that means you’ll be super grumpy all morning lmao)

♡ so instead he leaves a soft little kiss on your forehead, before getting up to check that jack is safely sleeping still :)

♡ right when he arrives outside jack's bedroom, he sees the door open, followed by jack looking like he’s been crying :(

♡ he says “i don’t feel so good, daddy” and he starts crying </3

♡ so of course aaron picks him up in his arms and puts him back to bed! he checks his temperature and asks him questions so he can understand what’s wrong.

♡ he comes to the conclusion that it’s just a stomach flue so he brings some medicine for jack to take and sits next to him, playing with his hair trying to comfort him!

♡ and that’s when jack yawns and says all sleepily “can you ask mom to come lay down with me?”

♡ aaron’s heart drops because he thinks he means haley and that because he’s sick and sleepy he forgot she’s not with them anymore </3

♡ but after a few seconds he realised that jack meant you!!! and it made him so happy to see his son loving the woman he loves just as much as he does!!!

♡ he knows that haley would be so happy too to see her baby being loved by someone as wonderful as you :( to see him having a second mom who’s gonna be there for him and take care of him!

♡ he kisses jack’s forehead and whispers to him that he’ll be right back…with his mom :) and jack smiles so big!

♡ you have talked about this before with aaron and he knows how happy you’ll be to find out jack called you mom for the first time! you had told him that whenever jack was ready to call you mom, you’d be the luckiest person in the world to have a child as sweet as him!!

♡ “your son is asking for you,” he whispers in your ear while rubbing your back.

♡ you look at him all confused with a sleepy expression which makes his heart ache from love <333

♡ so he explains to you that: jack is a little sick - and before you overreact he’s fine i already gave him some medicine- but he’s asking for his mom to lay down with him.

♡ so you look up at him like 🥹 and he cups your cheek and tells you “come on, your son is waiting for his mom!”

♡ you’re trying so hard not to cry and you fail.

♡ but you pull yourself together before jack sees you because you don’t wanna worry him!!

♡ “hi my little angel…” you say as softly as you can when you walk into his room and find him all covered up with his blankets.

♡ “mom i’m sick,” he says with a whine and you immediately go and cuddle with him and hold him close so he feels safe and cared for :(((

♡ you play with his hair and tell him that the medicine his daddy gave him will make him okay super fast!

♡ “i love you, mom,” he says before he falls asleep 🥺 and you tell him you love him too and kiss the top of his head :(

♡ you do not go to work that day!! there’s no way you would leave him alone!!

♡ aaron sits by the door and watches the two of you, feeling really emotional :((( he’s smiling but he has tears in his eyes…he can’t believe he was lucky enough to meet someone like you…he can’t believe how lucky he is to be loved by someone like you…

♡ he moves towards jack’s bed too (he can’t lie down because 1. there’s no room in jack’s small bed 2. he’s way too tall) and sits by your side, quietly wondering what would he do without his two favourite people in the whole world 🥺

#wow i can’t shut up! #but i LOVE this thought #it’s what they both deserve!!!!! #I WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR THEM #ask #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner hc #hotch 🪐

[lightsoutletsgo]

mimi congrats on 500, i’m so happy for you! 🤍🧸✨🫶🏼 i never send anything for these kinds of things but i need to do it now because i trust you 👀 so okay. . . can i request 2 ships please? and ofc i wouldn’t mind a little nsfw. i’m an aspiring actress, my favorite food is pasta and always will be. i’m a little introverted and shy but once i’m comfortable around people i’m able to get out of my bubble. i’m a perfectionist and don’t like not having control over my life. i have a hard time expressing my feelings :( and may come across as a cold person but i am extremely sentimental, i just wanna be held and loved. i like going out as much as i like staying in watching a movie or doing anything, really.

congrats again baby, love youuuu. <333

ahhh gwen! I'm so honoured that you trust me to write this request hehe I hope you enjoy it - this was literally so fun 🤭 happy reading! love mimi 🤍

MAX VERSTAPPEN ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ (everyone pretends to be shocked) - calls you schatje or lekker ding (when he's being silly) - loves loves LOVES feeling your hand in his!! it keeps him grounded - his love language is physical touch - he loves surprising you with flowers and buying you flowers. doesn't even need to be for anything, he just loves showing you how he feels through the language of flowers (omg fic idea?)

max relates hard to feeling like a perfectionist and while he also wants you to be the best version of yourself, he doesn't allow you to be hard on yourself. if he sees you getting too into your head, he's quick to hold your face and make you look at him. he'll remind you that he loves you and that he's proud of you. the way he looks at you makes you feel like you could make a million mistakes in the next few minutes and you'd still be okay - because you have him by your side. both you and max are often called the ice couple. no one means anything by it! they just think it's kind of funny how you're so short with others (especially if you're upset or stressed) but then you look at each other and it's like you do a 180. max won't ever admit this but it actually turns him into such a melt knowing that he's the only one who can turn you that mushy.

max loves taking you with him on race weekends and he will never not get butterflies seeing you there waiting for him in the garage with his name and number on your shirt, but nothing makes him get butterflies more than you sleepily curled up on his chest at home. he's a sucker for at-home dinner date nights and he loves cooking with you in the kitchen, it's fine if it gets super messed up because then he's telling you to get dressed and he's taking you out for dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in monaco where you know there's no way that he would have gotten in if he wasn't the max verstappen.

he loves that you have your dream of being an actress and he does as much as he can to support you in that, even if he's on the other side of the world. helping you look for workshops and audition opportunities, introducing you to your favourite actresses and inspirations when they're at the f1, helping you learn and run lines. you support him so much in his dream and career, showing up to as many of his races as possible that he can't wait for the day he gets to return the favour and stand on the red carpet as your trophy husband for the night! he's actually really excited by the thought!

max is absolutely addicted to the noises you make for him and only him as he loves to remind you. nothing satisfies him more than seeing your eyes roll back as he murmurs to you, his voice low, "who's making you this messy schat hmm?". he relishes in the way you squeeze around him when he's pushing in for the first time and you love the way he grips your hips as he does his best to control himself, the ache of his fingers digging into your hips a delicious reminder over the next few hours of just who you belong to. max is possessive, highly possessive. there is no way you're not leaving his bed, couch, apartment, car, driver's room, without him leaving a pretty mark in at least one or two places. he never does it where it can be captured by the cameras, instead choosing spots that only the two of you know about or spots that he can gently press when you're in public, the brief sting sending tingles down your spine.

"schatje?" max's voice prompts you to open your eyes from where you'd been dozing on the couch with the cats, "what do you want for dinner tonight?" you crane your neck to look at him as you gently scratch under sassy's chin, giggling at the way you feel her starting to purr against your tummy, "hmmm..." you look at him and bite your lip with a smile, max chuckles and nods, "pasta it is then!" you let out a cheer as max crosses the room and gently lifts your head to create a space to sit. as soon as he's sitting, he's placing your head back in his lap, one hand automatically soothing over your hair, his other hand snaking down to link his fingers with yours. you hum happily and he gazes down at you with so much love and adoration you swear you could cry. he leans down to press a soft kiss your forehead. you're not even aware of your eyes closing and drifting off to sleep but when you next open your eyes, you're cuddled into max, the cats nowhere to be found. it's dark outside and the lamp in the corner is switched on, casting a dim golden glow over the room. "how long was I out?" max stretches before pulling you closer to him, burying his nose into your neck and inhaling your cosy sleepy smell. "a couple of hours..." you sigh contentedly, hands sneaking under his hoodie to gently scratch at his lower back soothingly and he shudders next to you, "fuck... I missed you this weekend schatje." "I missed you to..." "I really don't wanna get up to make dinner," you giggle, "me either..." he sighs as if he's making a life altering decision, "then I guess we're just gonna have to order from your favourite italian restaurant." you give a little excited squeak as he rolls on top of you, softly grabbing one of your calves to wrap your leg around his waist, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck before he whispers in your ear, his voice gravelly, "think I could make you cum before dinner arrives?"

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

LANDO NORRIS ᝰ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ - calls you baby or sugar (when he's being annoying) - is addicted to your lips! like he loves kissing them but sometimes he gets so distracted just staring at you talk - his love language is acts of service - lando really isn't a good cook but he'll learn to make your favourite pasta dish just for you! lando is known for being that happy smiley, golden retriever around everyone whether he knows them or not. but you're not and he understands that! whenever you're in a new environment or meeting new people, he's gently linking his fingers with yours and squeezing once, twice, three times just to remind you that he's there if you need him. he'll happily stand slightly in front of you if it makes you feel better but as soon as you've warmed up and you're in your zone he's stepping back with a proud smile (and totally zoning out because your lips look so good when you smile and laugh)

lando is not a chef in any way, but he is determined to learn how to make your favourite dishes just because the way your eyes widen and you smile at him when he presents dinner to you is worth any amount of time or fails or tiny burns he gets in the process! he loves being able to surprise you after a long hard day or at any point! sure the presentation might be lacking and sometimes you have to add a little extra salt when he's not looking, but he does it with so much love and care. even taking the time to set the table up with a candle and some flowers. he'll pull your chair out for you to sit down and serves you as if you were dining at a michelin star restaurant (the only difference is that you pay him in kisses not cash!) he loves when you sit on stream with him and he loves watching you interact with the fans, asking them questions and passing on their questions to him. fans have made many compilation videos of the two of you and the titles and contents never fail to make you giggle watching them when lando's away and you miss him. "lando and his doberman gf" "golden retriver bf x black cat gf" "lando and his gf being the sun and moon for 10 minutes" lando loves how your lips look when they're smiling and laughing but he also loves how they look wrapped around his fingers as he slowly rolls his hips into you while you whine and moan underneath him. he loves the way they look around his cock and sometimes all you have to do is bite or lick your lips before he's clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, desperately trying to stop himself dragging you off to a quiet corner or his room - he usually fails! lando loves sloppy kisses while he fucks you nice and slow and deep, smirking into the kiss as you let out the most lewd whines and whimpers, drooling and cock drunk. he sometimes gets so turned on that he's begging you to sink to your knees under his desk. he's stopped a stream early before now, just because he couldn't wait any longer!

"hey sugar," you roll your eyes with a smile as lando slides onto the bed next to you, "come here often?" "you're ridiculous," you laugh and shove his arm. he wraps his arms around your waist and rolls onto his back, dragging you with him, "lando!" he cuddles into you, firmly tucking you into his side so you can't escape, "I was looking at an audition!" he sighs, "look later..." you wriggle slightly but he's unrelenting, "you're so needy!" you coo at him and you can practically feel his cheeks heat up, "yeah well... been missing you today..." he mumbles and one of your hands comes up to play with his curls absentmindedly, "ohhh yes please," you snort, "your fans are right, you're literally like a puppy..." he pulls away to look at you, "I'd be a good puppy for you," he says with a wink as you scoff and flick his forehead, "don't be such a whore, babe," "can't help it..." he shrugs, "just gotta look at your pretty lips," his face gets closer to yours and you can feel his breath on your lips, "just one look and I need to feel them."

he's murmuring against your lips at this point and your thighs squeeze together with no warning, he fucking giggles and presses a line of soft kisses along your jaw, teasing you. but you're not in the mood, "lando?" your voice is hushed as you look up at his pretty eyes, watching the way the lust and love he has for you swirl in them, "yes baby?" "kiss me." you don't need to ask him twice, he'll gladly kiss you anytime.

#mimi's 500 celebration ₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ #mimi.writes #mimi.thirsts #sweet moots ₊˚✧*:･ #gwen 🧸 #max’s wifey #f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #gwen <3

[theragethatisdesire]

CONGRATS ON THE 1K DKFJSKDJF

can i get levi with the stay with me tonight prompt o.o (#8 i think :3)

HEY KAT HEY!!!! thank you so much jdkfaljdl i remember when you hit 1k and i was just so immensely proud of you and so happy to be moots and i still am!!! so thrilled to see you here<333

yeah you absoLUTELY can you are officially the first person to get me to write a levi drabble/fic and ofc it would be you that pulls it out of me

-

Reluctantly, you sit up, grimacing slightly at the scratch of the Survey Corp-issued sheets against your bare, oversensitive skin, at the ache deep in your bones and beneath your legs from a long day of training and a long night with him.

He's your Captain, you're his subordinate. It's inappropriate beyond measure, could easily ruin his career, but at this rate, you're not sure who needs this arrangement more. You aren't sure when it started, whether that be during sparring practice, pinned underneath him in full view of your comrades, on those long missions outside the walls watching each other be illuminated by a campfire, the one time you snapped back at him to the chagrin of everyone else around.

It started at some point, but you only know where it ended up, with you continuously sneaking out of your barracks and into his private captain's quarters, sliding beneath the sheets and letting him work sounds out of you that would make a prostitute blush.

You jump at the light pressure of a hand on your spine, not pressing, but a feather-light touch.

"What time is it?" Levi grumbles in that tousled, unbuttoned tone he gets only in moments like these. You relish it, love that for now, that voice is only for you, not for anyone else.

"Close to 1:00," you answer, eyes flicking over to the clock on the wall, "long day tomorrow?"

"Moreso for you than me," Levi props up on his elbows, and you make the mistake of turning over your shoulder to look at him, look at the way his muscles ripple under porcelain skin.

Your eyes draw to a particular scar on his ribs, the one you had hesitantly asked about on your first night together, the one you now know makes him shudder if you run your tongue over it. You avert your eyes instantly when a slow throb starts to build between your legs, despite the wreckage that already lies there.

"Why is that?"

"ODM review," Levi's eyes soften ever so slightly, an apology, "I have meetings with the Commander most of the day, so I need you and the squad to head over to the training area and teach the cadets how to check their ODM gear properly. There's been too many close calls during their training. Commander Erwin suspects that they weren't properly taught how to check their gear before heading up."

You groan, rubbing at your tired eyes. "I wish you would have told me that before I came over here. I'm exhausted."

"I'm sorry," Levi's voice is quiet, a little wounded. You can only sigh, knowing that trying to assure him that it was worth it, that you'd go weeks without sleep, without food, if it meant you could lay here with him only a few hours longer is fruitless.

"It's okay," you find yourself leaning over, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It shocks both of you, you pulling back with wide eyes, a blush rising to the tips of Levi's ears. "Um, okay, well...I'll head out then. Sounds like we both need the rest."

Levi's lips tighten into a thin line, and he nods curtly. This is the pitfall of your arrangement with the Captain; eventually, the sun has to rise, and the moment has to be end. With certain death looming over your shoulder at the start of each day, you don't have the guts to tell him how you really feel, that it's all so much more than a stress-relieving hookup for you, especially when you doubt the Captain feels that way for you in return.

You slide out of his sheets, feeling incredibly exposed, and scrounge around on the floor for your uniform. Just as you're sliding the unbelievably un-sexy standard-issued underwear over your legs, Levi speaks again, rattles you to your core.

"Wait."

"Wait?" You turn to him, nose scrunched in confusion. Levi's eyes flit around the room, searching for anything that isn't your confused, naked form.

"Stay with me tonight." Even his posture as he says it is anxious, uncomfortable in a way you've never seen.

"Stay with you," you repeat slowly, "here?"

"Yes, here," Levi can't help but roll his eyes, "you need to catch up on your sleep. I wake up before everyone else on base, I can make sure you get back to your quarters without being seen. Stay with me."

"Why do you say it like it's an order?" You're stunned initially, your surprise eventually winding down into suspicion.

"You don't have to, I just- I- I want you to. Get some rest, I mean." Levi's face is hard, but his eyes are pleading. That same little flush is rising from his cheeks to his ears, betraying him. You raise an eyebrow at your Captain, trying to shove off the prickly, exciting feeling erupting all over your body.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Levi eyes you, eyebrows lifting in just the smallest admission of astonishment.

"I'll stay with you," you let your underwear fall back down your legs, clamber back into the bed with him, "for tonight."

Levi lets an arm fall around your waist, curls his body around yours, makes you shiver at the intimate nature of your position together. Just as your eyes begin to flutter closed, you feel the lightest little kiss on the nape of your neck.

#KAT THIS WAS SO FUN #WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME LEVI IS FUN TO WRITE #thanks for requesting lovebug #ragehits1000 #i'm also sorry i'm being so slow you guys are putting my brain to WORK #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader

[bookshelf-dust]

Hi! I love your writing 🥹

I was wondering if I could request a fic where it’s readers first time in after school detention, and it’s over something dumb like being tardy too much ‘cause she’s a good noodle, but Billy is there! And he’s all cool and flirty and shit.

Literally anything you write will be amazing! Thank youuu for sharing your work 🙏

pink slips and bland gum.

billy hargrove x fem!henderson!reader

word count: 2,229

warnings: swearing, reader has anxiety, mentions of smoking, innuendos, tension/kinda pining/both reader and billy are smartasses—this is kinda enemies to lovers OOP (also sorry i got carried away)

a/n: hi my love!! thank you so very much for your request. it makes me so happy that you enjoy my writing! thank you for reading. it is a pleasure to share my mess with you. i really like this idea! i had a similar experience in school, minus the billy or interaction with a pretty boy at all. anyhow, i hope you like this!! i decided to make it a henderson!reader as a reason for the tardiness. i hope that’s okay! *big big squeezy hug* <333

————

“God fucking dammit, Dustin!”

Your breath leaves a puffy cloud of air in front of you where you sit in your car. It’s not warm yet. You would’ve gotten up to start it earlier, but you’d overslept some, which meant Dustin overslept too.

You usually banged on his door after pulling yourself out of bed, but what with finals, you’d been up late studying and forgotten to set your clock.

The palms of your hands met the leather of the steering wheel again, one slamming into the horn, again. You couldn’t bare to give one tiny shit at this point if you woke anyone in the neighborhood up.

Dustin had always been a mess in regards to getting ready for school, but it seemed that now you drove him, he was determined to make you late as well. When your mother drove the both of you, he was ever punctual. Now, not even a little bit.

When he did finally get in the car, he realized that you were actually furious with him, not saying one word the entire trip. Not to mention you realized about halfway there that you were actually going to be late, again, a wreck diverting traffic the complete wrong way to school. A wreck you could’ve avoid if Dustin had gotten his ass outside on time.

It was safe to say that by the time you got parked and into the building, only for your first period teacher to hold up her hand at your entrance—not even bothering to look up at you—a pink slip of paper in her fingers, you were downright pissed.

You flopped down into your seat, wood cold through your jeans, and looked at the slip while simultaneously retrieving your book from your bag. It was “silent reading time,” after all.

It was a detention slip. A fucking detention slip.

Not only were you angry at yourself for oversleeping, but also because Dustin just could not bother to help you out in the mornings, not only today, but almost every damn day the past month, and now you were paying the price.

You knew Dustin would get away with it on his end though. His first period was Mr. Clarke, and he loved Dustin so much it wouldn’t matter if he set fire to the classroom.

“Afternoon Detention, 3:30pm,” it read, a blank with your name scrawled on it and a blank for your teachers signature as well.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your wallet to check for coins, because now you needed to use the fucking pay phone and call your mother considering you wouldn’t be able to take Dustin home this afternoon anymore.

————

Claudia Henderson was less than pleased to hear that you’d gotten after school detention, but you weren’t taking any of her shit after the morning you’d had.

You may have used language that was going to get you lectured, but in the end you told her to deal with Dustin and hung up.

The rest of the day drug on and on, your leg continually bouncing throughout each class. You could feel your anxiety the whole time, a dull ache, a pain that wouldn’t go away until you got through this.

You’d never had detention before.

Never in your entire academic career.

Frankly, you didn’t see any reason to misbehave and have to stay in the hellhole that was Hawkins High School any longer than you had to. Which is why you always behaved.

And the reason for your detention sentence hadn’t even been your fault.

The last bell rang, and instead of making your way out to the parking lot with the rest of the school, you walked the other way, down the hall to Mrs. Click’s classroom.

You’d had her your junior year for English class, and though that was your best and favorite subject, she’d made it miserable, never thinking you had any talent in you whatsoever regarding writing. Which, by the way, fucking hurt.

You turned into the room, standing in the short line of other kids who had to stay just like you did.

You handed her your slip and she assessed you over the frames of her glasses, like she knew you’d end up here.

“Take a seat anywhere you’d like. You may complete any classwork you have. You may not listen to music or do anything recreational. You will be released at five pm. No sooner, no later.”

You shooed you away with a flick of her hand, and you moved to find a desk.

There really weren’t a lot of kids in the room, only five or six, and they were all spread out, clearly not wanting to be next to each other.

You went for the back row like you did in any classroom, hoping you’d find solace there.

Only when you sat down did you hear the sound of heavy boots on the floor behind you, and upon glancing up, you found the one and only Billy Hargrove sliding into the seat next to you, dropping his bag on the desktop.

You didn’t know the boy extremely well by any means, but of course you knew who he was. You had a few classes with him, some of which required working in pairs—so you’d talked to him, but you weren’t best friends forever or anything.

You tried not to roll your eyes at Billy’s apparent inability to pick a seat not so close to you, occupying yourself with pulling out your few homework assignments for the night.

“What are you in for?”

When you turned your head, Billy was already looking at you; his head propped up by his hand, blinking all slow, batting those stupid long eyelashes at you, a slow smirk ticking up the corners of his mouth. His voice gravelly, words spoken lazily, keeping his voice down for fear of Mrs. Click’s acknowledgment.

He was a dream to look at—there was no denying that.

“Apparently being tardy one too many times is not very well received.”

You flipped open a notebook, looking for the notes you’d taken earlier in the day. Billy’s hand though, covered the words.

He was holding a pack of gum, offering you a stick. You didn’t chew gum often, but you weren’t going to turn it down when he was offering it to you.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm,” Billy hummed. “Why’ve you been late so much that you got written up for it?”

You turned to face him, eyeing Mrs. Click, who was reading and half dozing in her chair, oblivious to the boy with his walkman tucked into his waistband, hair covering his headphones.

“My brother. Dustin seems to be determined to make my mornings a living hell every since I started driving the both of us. He can never get ready on time or gets distracted by something. But if it were him who needed to be somewhere and I was running late, the fucking world would end.”

Billy was watching you intently as you spoke, hanging onto your every word. This was the most you’d ever conversed, what with you always paying attention in class and everything, so he was pretty damn happy that you were paying him any attention.

He laughed lightly after you finished. “My sister, Max, is the opposite. I think she’s punctual so that she can get away from me quicker.”

“I think they’re friends, Max and Dustin,” you told him. “Maybe they’re out to get us.”

Billy let out a breath of a laugh, smiling lightly at you.

It was then that the silence ensued.

The boy was quiet for a good while, eventually digging out his own homework, what looked to be math. The math class you shared with him. The same homework you were trying to do.

“Are you any good at this stuff?” You asked him shyly, pointing to the paper on your desk as he made eye contact with you. He was really good at that. Unnervingly so.

“What, math?”

You nodded, trying not to look at his hands while he flipped a pencil around in between his fingers.

“Not always, but the stuff we’re on now I’ve got. Why, you need help?” He wasn’t mean when he asked. He wasn’t picking on you. He was genuinely offering.

“Well I got most of it done in class today, but there’s these two problems I can’t figure out. I’ve always been bad at math though, so.”

“Math is hard, okay? And it doesn’t help that O’Donnell is shit at explaining either. Which ones are buggin’ you?”

“Three and seven. I’ve got the first two steps down, but after that I get lost. I think I’m dividing wrong maybe?”

Billy read over the question on his sheet and then moved his chair out to be closer to you. The close contact was making you burn.

“May I?” He held out his hand for your paper. You picked it up and gave it to him. His eyes scanned your writing, fingers trying not to smudge the graphite from your pencil.

He scooted even closer to you. The burning continued. You tried not to think about how good he smelled, even if it was mostly of cigarettes.

“Okay, here,” he gestured with his pen, “it’s the third step where you kinda trip up. You’ve just forgotten the negative sign that goes with the parenthesis.”

You looked at your notes, realizing you had indeed forgotten that. “Huh. That makes sense. Thank you, Billy. I’m sorry for bothering you with this.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll help you anytime you need.” And then he winked. Billy Hargrove winked at you and then went back to working on his own homework.

The rest of the afternoon droned on, but eventually the hour and a half was up. Your sentence had ended.

Billy shouldered his bag, and you had the urge to grab hold of his arm and squeeze. Shit. You needed to chill.

You made sure to give Mrs. Click a glare on the way out for how she treated you, and Billy caught it.

“That was brave. I’m kind of scared of her.”

You laughed, falling into step with him on the way out of the building.

“She’s a bitch. Made my English class last year living hell. It’s easier to be brave when I know I won’t have to be in close quarters with her.”

Billy laughed then, and it was probably the sweetest sound you’d ever heard, lazy and sweet. You could’ve bottled it.

You fished your keys out halfway through the door, and when you looked up, you noticed Billy was still chewing his gum. You’d spit your piece out on the way out of detention.

“There’s no way that gum still has any flavor left.”

He turned to look at you. “Wanna find out?”

You practically choked, but he reveled in it, moving on. “Walk you to your car? It is getting dark out early this time of year, you know.”

“Sure, Billy.”

The walk was short, but he was right on you the whole time, a comforting presence. You almost squealed when he caught your bag as it slipped from your shoulder, his warm hand brushing your arm.

It was when you arrived at the driver’s side door of your car that the both of you looked up, the street lights coming on all at once, the sun having set just enough to set them off. There was some romantic joke in there, you were sure of it.

“You never asked me,” Billy said. You raised a brow, confused as to where he was going with this.

“What I was in for,” he continued. “I was gonna make a joke about you being a goody two shoes or something, but then you were all nice and gorgeous and shit, so, you know. Here I am.”

Billy leaned in, setting a gentle hand on the roof of the car, just beside your head. You were starting to think that smartass smirk of his was ever present.

“Sorry,” you started, still feeling a little brave. “You were too busy flirting up a storm.” He tossed his head back, laughing, and you tracked the movement of his Adam’s apple. “So what were you in for, Hargrove?”

“Apparently smoking in the school hallways is not very well received.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why were you smoking in the halls then?”

“Honestly? Because I was having a shit day and I needed to calm down, so I kinda couldn’t make it outside.” He shrugged his shoulders, finding it easy to talk to you for some reason.

You nodded, understanding the need to get away sometimes—more often than not. You wondered how much more of him you could understand, if he were to reveal it to you.

“Well, I’m sure we could figure out another way for you to calm down that doesn’t involve cancer sticks.”

“Yeah?” Billy grinned. “You’ll have to help me out then, huh?”

“I guess so.”

You watched as he pulled a pen out of his own bag, gesturing for you to give him your hand. When you did, the tip of the pen was cold against your palm.

“My number,” Billy told you. “For when you need help with math homework, or if you want gum or something.”

“Or something.”

He capped the pen. “Yeah. Or something.”

————

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

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x henderson!reader #billy hargrove x fem!henderson!reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x female reader #savannah’s fics

[anundyingfidelity]

PLEASE if you find the time could you do perv!adam warlock x reader i would literally go feral also i love your work you’re amazing<333

oFCOURSE, i'm happy to know you like my fics! 🥹 i also received these other 2 requests about perv!adam so yeah. i am making short headcanons, hope you enjoy it! under the cut for you... 😼

if you'd like me to write a long fic just lmk, and i'll see if i can do it 🤓

pairing: adam warlock x fem!reader.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

warnings! corruption kink, fantasies, rough sex, overstimulation, dumbification, manhandling, slut shaming.

adam now knows a lot about the universe, life and ofc sex.

when he met you, you woke up something inside him.

you were cute, kind and naive but strong and smart and gorgeous. you were the perfect warrior and the perfect addition to the team once rocket asked you to join.

after you were rescued from your long destroyed planet, you absolutely said yes.

and there's where adam saw the chance of his life to approach you.

he got to know you and teach you the things he learned.

and you were so excited and happy adam was there.

but as time went by, he couldn't stop thinking about you.

he couldn't stop thinking about your laugh, your pretty lips, your beautiful face, and your body, all of him just wanted to ravage your perfect, tiny, silly being and make you his and only his.

his dirty thoughts started to become usual little by little.

you'd be preparing some breakfast in the ship in the middle of a mission, wearing your comfy clothes, shorts and a tank top on and adam's mind would go wild, yearning for you. he would restrain himself to grab your arms and force you on your stomach on the counter, rip your shorts and panties and just fuck you right there, while he whispers how much of a dumb slut you are for him.

or when you're having the ice scream or popsicles quill taught you to prepare while he was visiting knowhere before going back to earth. his dick twitches at the way you lick and your tongue rolls around the flavored ice, wishing your mouth could take his cock as good as that.

but of course you're none of what he thinks and fantasies about. you're just too innocent to give into him and to let yourself go for carnal pleasure, right?

until one night, you're up because of the same reason as adam: you cannot sleep.

he talks to you and he feels something different coming from you. you're nervous, more than ever and he senses that.

"you don't have any idea of what you do to me, do you?"

only one question was enough for you to let him in your bed.

you become addicted to his touch and his roughness.

the first night he made you cum at least four times and ohhhh, once you began this, it never stopped.

he loves your hands all over his golden skin, when you caress his hair and pull him for a kiss, but he is always a step ahead, pinning you down to the mattress - or any surface in the room - to fuck you hard and rough, for you to experience the longest orgasms you ever had, all that while he whispers the dirtiest shit in your ear.

"this is what you do to me, you dumb fucking slut," adam continues to pound into you, your walls pulsing and squeezing his cock after another breathtaking orgasm he gave you. "i wish i fucked you earlier."

each time, he leaves you exhausted and aching for more.

nobody knows the new cute, little naive girl is being fucked by the most powerful man in the galaxy.

you're so cockdrunk and such a slut for him, he points it out each time he's fucking you and you certainly love it.

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock imagines #adam warlock x you #adam warlock imagine #adam warlock x y/n #adam warlock #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x female reader #marvel smut #marvel imagines

[amhrosina]

August (Namor x fem!Reader)

Songfic - August by Taylor Swift

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: hi friends! I hit 500 followers today and have over 1,000 notes on one of my fics. I can’t express how much I appreciate your support and love for my writing :’). You are all so kind! This fic took me a few days longer than usual because I was experiencing some pretty intense writer’s block. Hopefully, that’s in the past! Anyways, a nonnie requested this! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

Request: hi i have read the artist and the sea and it was so well-written and wonderful 🥹🫶🏼 this is why i'm requesting a namor x fem reader that is kind of inspired with august by taylor swift? like it's a summer love typa beat but the reader will realize that they don't have a future together since he's a god and she's just a mortal so it's like the lyric "so much for summer love and saying 'us' cause you weren't mine to lose" ??? you can put a happy ending or not honestly it's fine either way! and sorry if this is too specific and if you don't want to write this, it's okay &lt;333 

Summary: You and Namor must face the music when the real world begins to catch up with your summer love affair.

(Warnings: smutty language, allusions of smut, no hardcore smut (nonnie didn’t specify and I didn’t want to include it just in case), watch me make shit up about being able to visit Talokan as a human (without the suit lol), fluffy Namor, Namor would hang the moon for reader, a little bit of angst, happy ending bc im incapable of writing sad endings) 

Translations: 

in yakunaj – my love 

princesa – princess 

Salt air, and the rust on your door  I never needed anything more 

The summer heat was stifling, but you were determined to meet Namor on the beach when he finally made it back from Talokan, and the sun had almost set, so the heat wouldn’t be an issue for much longer. He’d been gone for three long days, and you were beginning to grow a little anxious. Since you’d met him, the time between seeing him was never longer than a day or two. When he hadn’t returned last night, you’d opened your bedroom window and listened to the sound of the sea for hours until finally drifting off into a restless sleep. When you awoke, and he still hadn’t come back, the worry began gnawing at your gut. 

You weren’t entirely sure why Namor continued to come back to you, time and time again. It was a thought that was easily forgotten when Namor was around, but during the short stretches of his absence, you couldn’t stop yourself from mulling it over. Namor was a god, a warrior that was centuries older than you, and yet, he seemed completely enamored with you. 

His “little love”, he called you, a nickname that never failed to make you blush. When you really thought about it, the pace at which you’d fallen for each other was incredibly fast. It was a lightning storm out at sea, a muscle car going 90 down the pacific coast highway, the tumble of the waves meeting the sand on a stormy night. It was a warmth that many people didn’t know existed. You’d never cared about anyone as deeply as you care for Namor, and you tried not to think about that, because it was a terrifying thought. 

You never let yourself consider what would happen when you continued to age while Namor didn’t. Namor never brought it up either, and for that you were grateful. The thought left a melancholy note in your body, and you wanted to enjoy the time you were getting to spend with Namor now, even if later wasn’t guaranteed. 

The sun hung low in the sky, on the cusp of fading into the night, and you were worried you might be gnawing a hole in your cheek when you finally spotted Namor in the water. You breathed a sigh of relief, but the nervous ache in your chest didn’t disappear. What if he was only coming to say goodbye to you? 

“I am sorry it took me so long, in yakunaj. I got here as fast as I could.” He buried you in a hug, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. “I missed you, little love.” 

“I missed you too.” You nuzzled into his chest. “Do you want to come inside?”  

You tilted your head up at him, blinking in awe at his beauty. You would never get tired of seeing him like this. You were almost completely sure no one in the world got to experience the warm, cuddly side of Namor besides you. The way he described his people gave you the sense that “warm and cuddly” wasn’t really what they were going for as warriors, but you didn’t care. Namor never brought violence home to you, and in turn, you always appreciated his kindness a little extra. 

“Lead the way, in yakunaj.”  

Whispers of "Are you sure?"  "Never have I ever before" 

As soon as Namor shut the door, he was on you. His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, pulling your body against his in one swift movement. One hand traveled along the curve of your waist while the other had a firm grip on your jaw, and the sparks traveling through your veins reminded you of the first time Namor had ever kissed you like this. 

Crisp memories flashed through your mind. Namor’s gentle caress along your spine. His fingers lightly treading the waistband of your shorts. The way he’d carefully laid you down, kissing every inch of you with soft lips. In the centuries since he’d been born, the act of sex had become a detatched act of primal urge. He never cared about the people he was burying himself inside of, not really. But then he met you, and suddenly the world had shifted.  

“You make me feel alive, for the first time in 500 years.”  

He had whispered this into your skin, resting his head on your chest as the weight of his words sank in. You had gently cradled his head in your hands, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before slowly pulling your shirt over your head.  

Your first time with Namor was nothing short of magical. You should’ve probably expected it, considering how much more time he’d had to perfect his craft than other men, but you suspected that the love exchanged between you also had an impact. The morning after, Namor had revealed to you that he’d never experienced love, but that he was pretty sure it’s what he felt for you. You’d melted into his hold, and he made love to you again, whispering confessions of love into your skin. 

Namor lifted you in the air and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling you back into the present. His desire was achingly hard against your clothed core, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips as you shifted against him. He walked the two of you into your bedroom, and softly closed the door behind him. This was the usual routine after he returned from Talokan, and the love between the two of you seemed to grow every time you reunited. 

Your back beneath the sun  Wishin' I could write my name on it  Will you call when you're back at school?  I remember thinkin' I had you 

Later, after you had spent hours kissing gentle reminders of how much you missed one another into each other’s skin, you were cuddled into Namor’s side, resting your head on his chest in a sleepy haze.  

“Why did it take you so long to come back?” You prodded, out of curiosity, but also out of nervousness.  

Namor sighed, pulling you tighter against his side. “My people have noticed that I spend more time here than at home. Namora is concerned.”  

You stiffened against him. You knew Namor hadn’t revealed to anyone in Talokan exactly what he’d been doing on the surface, but he had never spoken so openly about the toll it was taking on him.  

“Do not worry, in yakunaj. It is a peaceful time for my people.” 

“What if it wasn’t peaceful?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“Then I would be with my people, fighting alongside them. I have a duty to protect them, in yakunaj. But I would think of you every second, until we met again.” 

You sighed, but you understood. He was theirs long before he was yours, and you couldn’t expect him to give up 500 years of history for you.  

“I wish I could see it. Talokan sounds lovely.” You mumbled into his chest, kissing one of the faint scars that hid along the line of his collarbone. He tightened his hold on you – a small token of appreciation in response to your love for his home.  

“I know, princesa. There is nothing I want more than that.” 

You wanted to ask him how long he was planning on keeping this hidden love affair going, how long he planned on lying to his closest friends and family about his feelings for a surface dweller, but you stayed quiet. That was not something you wanted to know the answer to. At least not now. The thought of your late nights together on the beach and the hours spent wrapped in bed sheets by each other’s side coming to an end was too painful to think about.  

For now, you were fine with living in blissful ignorance. Eventually, you knew it would have to come to an end, but what you couldn’t bear to think about was how agonizingly lonely you would be without Namor in your life.  

Instead of saying any of this, you lightly kissed his cheek, and drifted off to sleep against his chest, blissfully unaware of the war waging inside of Namor’s head at the exact same moment. 

But I can see us lost in the memory  August slipped away into a moment in time  'Cause it was never mine  So much for summer love and saying "us"  'Cause you weren't mine to lose  You weren't mine to lose, no 

The summer months passed by in an idyllic haze. It was easy to lose yourself in Namor when he was around. Hours would pass like minutes, shaded in the warm glow of summer.  

Namor’s visits were less frequent, excused with the wave of his hand, as if to say, “I had to take care of something, but don’t worry about it.” You tried not to mind the absences, though. When Namor was with you, his attention was always fully on you. The nights he spent with you were always as passionate as the first night, and he’d hold you until he absolutely had to return to Talokan.  

You didn’t question him, though you were curious about what he was so busy doing when he was at home. He was a King, you supposed. He probably had a lot of things going on. All of this justification didn’t help soothe the sting when his absences began to stretch into 3-4 days at a time. Perhaps he was finally realizing what you’d known all along. He was a God, and you were a human, and it wouldn’t work for much longer. 

You mulled this over as you tried to read on the beach one evening. The sun was going to set soon, and it had officially been five days since Namor had visited you. You read the same paragraph three times before finally throwing the book down beside you. Distracting yourself with a book wasn’t working. Your thoughts always trailed back to Namor, and they probably always would. 

You watched the sun set, waiting and waiting for the familiar tremor in the water that indicated Namor’s arrival. The tremor never came, and after two hours of sitting in miserable silence, you trudged back towards your house. He wasn’t coming, and even though you should probably have expected this eventually, you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up.  

Two more days passed before you saw Namor again, and the weary look on his face when you met him in knee-deep water sent a wave of turmoil into your gut. This was it, the moment you’d been dreading since you realized how incredibly hard you’d fallen for him, and you weren’t prepared in the slightest for the wave of emotion that followed this realization. 

Familiar tears stained your cheeks, and the overwhelming sense that you couldn’t breathe overtook your ability to look at him. Namor cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes.  

“In yakunaj, what is it? Why are you crying?”  

You latched onto his wrists, failing to stop the tears from flowing down your face. “Please just say it, Namor. I can’t take the distance you’re forcing between us anymore. I can handle it.”  

“Princesa, what are you talking about? Say what?” Namor’s face morphed into concern as he looked over your features. Your eyes were puffy, stained red from crying, and you looked exhausted.  

“That you can’t love me anymore. That you have to go back to Talokan, and that I can’t come, and that I have to move on from you.”  

Namor studied your face for a moment. Understanding dawned on his face as he realized how affected you were by his unexplained absences. He wiped the tears from under your eyes and shook his head. 

“Is that what you think? That I don’t love you anymore?”  

You tried to look away from him, but his firm grip wouldn’t allow it. You closed your eyes instead, trying to calm the heartbreak crashing through you.  

“Why else have you been pulling away from me?” 

“My sweet little love,” Namor cooed, kissing the tip of your nose, “I will always love you. I am sorry for being so distant lately, but I was trying to surprise you.”  

You opened your eyes, confusion evident on your face.  

“Surprise me with what?” You asked. 

Namor smiled, glancing over his shoulder towards the water.  

“We have found a way to bring you to Talokan.” 

You inhaled sharply, following his gaze towards what you could only assume was the route to Talokan.  

“What do you mean?” Your voice was a breathy whisper.  

“I mean, there is a way for me to bring you home with me.”  

Excitement bubbled in your chest, but it was quickly extinguished when you remembered that even if you could get to Talokan, time would remain an enemy. Namor was still a God, and you were still a mortal, after all. 

“Namor,” you shook your head, “It won’t work. I will still die of old age, and then you will be alone again.” 

Namor began shaking his head in response before you could finish your sentence.  

“You misunderstand me, princesa. We have found a way for you to stay in Talokan. You would be one of us. That’s what I’ve been working on while I’ve been gone. We could be together forever, if that’s what you want.” He paused, looking over your shoulder at your house. “You will have to say goodbye to the surface, though. It will be visitable, of course, but your home would be in Talokan, with our people.”  

“Our people?” You felt like a mimicking parrot, but his proposal had overwhelmed you, and that was the only thing you could muster in response.  

Namor chuckled, kissing both of your cheeks, one after the other. “They are very excited to meet their soon-to-be Queen, in yakunaj.”  

“You told them about me?” You murmured, in awe of his ability to render you almost speechless again.  

“I did. They are glad to see me happy.” 

You glanced between your home and the water, mulling over everything he’d told you.  

“I know I am asking a lot of you. You do not have to give me an answer now, in yakunaj. You can think abo-” 

You cut him off with a searing kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body against his.  

“Take me home, Namor.” You murmured against his lips. 

The smile on his face shined so bright that you couldn’t imagine ever saying no to him, if that’s what his response was when he was happy. 

For the hope of it all  (For the hope of it all) 

You looked back towards your house for the final time. Leaving it behind was something you’d never thought you’d do, but you didn’t think you’d miss it – not when an entire city awaited your arrival.  

Namor had explained the transition process to you as best he could. A lot of it sounded like scientific gibberish, but the parts that you picked up included drinking a blue nectar that had been mixed with his blood, which would ensure that you could breathe both under water and above it. It would also extend your lifetime by centuries, if not longer. According to Namor, people all over Talokan were celebrating your arrival already.  

Namor wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.  

“Are you sure you want to say goodbye to this life, little love?”  

You smiled and leaned backwards against his chest.  

“Let’s start our life together, in yakunaj.” His language felt foreign on your tongue, but you had heard him call you by that name so many times that you were sure you had pronounced it correctly. 

Namor let out a loud laugh, kissing your shoulder and squeezing you tighter against him in response.  

“I think I could get used to hearing you speak my language, princesa.”  

“We’ll have a hundred lifetimes together. Will you teach me more?”  

“I will do anything you ask of me, princesa.” 

“Forever?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.  

He grinned, nodding. “Forever.”  

Tag List:

@thatlesbosimp @legocity2 @softclue @violet-19999 @uwiuwi @omgsuperstarg @purpleetou @raeluvsbloodline @historygeekgueen @kneelarhmstrung @euphoricjupiter @ethereal-athalia @quackson03 @johfaam @messymissy @husherstan @quackimilktea @certifiedhunter @shoxji @dazecrea @layazul @bontensbabygirl @jasmihine @brookiecookiez0 @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #namor black panther #namor mcu #namor fic #namor angst #namor fluff #namor smut #namor fanfiction #tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta x you #tenoch huerta x reader #black panther #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #marvel #marvel imagine #namor imagine #amhrosina

[venriliz]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Who's your biggest inspiration/s on Simblr? Mention them! Tell us why you like them!

okay this is going to be a veeery long post. i could probably name almost every single simblr i follow, but that would be impossible, so if you noticed me liking/reblogging your posts but not mentioning you - please don't think that you're not inspiring to me, because you are! <3

tbh i love the simblr community to bits and a LOT of people inspire me every day. :] i'll name some under the cut!

@aniraklova - she has such a unique sim style and has been nothing but a gift to the community by organizing events like edgewave last year or by being a badass person in general! love her! <3

@microscotch just one if not the coolest simblr imo :P keeps the love for sims 2 alive and doing some kickass renders in the process. simblr wouldn't be as much fun as it is without my Helenchen! <333

@vdshakh hands down the best simblr when it comes to renders. i can only dream of mine being that good. probably got me into doing some myself in the first place. i would reblog their renders every day...and maybe i should! <333

@puppycheesecake when it comes to cas related posts, i could stare at them all day and never get bored. the variety is insane! :] probably fundamentally inspired me to up my own cas game, so ty! <3

@strangetowntales you can probably tell that everything related to aliens/strangetown, basically that theme as a whole is already a plus in my book and i love their moodboards so fucking much!!

@beetlemp3 just their whole blog/aesthetic gives me tooth aches because it's so cute! when i need to treat my eyes to colorful screenshots/builds etc this is one of the blogs i think of first!

@birdietrait birdie makes some of the prettiest sims i've ever seen and is such a huge inspiration when i feel like i'm about to suffer from same-face-syndrom lmao. their sims just look like real people (if that makes any sense) also snoopy is life! :]

@squea there's just something special about squea's sims. can't even put my finger on it but i just love them (especially corn! he's a treat! <333) i also use her natural cas-lighting all the time and never found another one i like as much! :]

@fl0ptrait one of the coolest ppl i met here on tumblr! just all around so nice and also very talented when it comes to creating sims that leave me hot and bothered! °-°

@stellarfalls every time i see one of bree's posts i just feel incredibly humbled and honored by the talent and the love that must've been put into creating them. you deserve every single like and reblog and then some! ily :3

@cinamun not that long ago i already mentioned cin in a post regarding story simblrs i find inspiring, so i might repeat myself when i say that i'm in awe of the dedication she puts into her story. i can see it despite not actively following it and i love that! probably doesn't even get as much attention she should!

@alientown already love her for the name alone BUT (!) the sims she creates are really unique and have so much personality! just love looking at them and imagining what their stories could be! :]

@nigmos i could look at dee's sims all day and find more and more reasons why i find them to be so beautiful! every post of her on my dash just makes me really happy and gives me a lot of inspiration for my own sims! :]

@lilamausmaus she has probably one of the coolest sim styles (in my humble opinion) her game just looks like a comic and i love it so much! her nervous object stole my heart more than once T.T she's also one of the nicest ppl here for sure! i get so much inspiration from her posts! :]

@lucidicer honestly whenever olli posts an edit, my eyes just pop out of my skull in the best way possible and i'm not mad about that at all it's just fucking art! love him and his posts to bits (even though he didn't want to share his cheese sticks with me once... °-°)

@alelelesimz i always happy-cry in simlish when i see alelele's posts, especially recreations of sims from the franchise. I LOVE the urbz remakes so much, they're the absolute best and looking at them makes me want to replay this game over and over again T.T their blog is definitely a huge source of inspiration for me!

okay that was cheesy af but all of those simblrs are the first ones that came to mind when i read nonny's question, but by FAR not all of them. again, if you ever saw me like/comment/reblog your post, know that you're an inspiration to me too and that ily! <333

#venri replies #i'm probably going to cry later when i think of 1000 more blogs i could've mentioned T.T sorry in advance!

[mackenzielovee]

parenthood blurb: a wife's intuition

a/n: this is a little long for a blurb but i hope you guys enjoy it! i'm a little on the fence about it but let me know what you think. happy sunday <333 xoxo

warnings: swearing, crying, depictions of anxiety

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

     You collapse on the couch Thursday night alone, which is something you’re wondering if you should get used to. Tuesday night, Wednesday night, and now tonight, Rafe has had to work late, and each night, he shoots you a last minute warning text telling you he can’t make it and he’s sorry. 

This fact, combined with dinner, bath time, and taming both kids into bed has you near tears. Every once in a while is different. Rafe’s picked up your slack plenty of times without the tears, and a part of you feels guilty that you find it so overwhelming when he isn’t present. But three nights in a row of not taking your eyes off of two children who will run away at the drop of a hat, combined with never-ending questions about where Rafe is feels a little unbearable. 

You hear the door to the garage open and force yourself to sit up on the couch, wiping your waterline of any stray tears that may have escaped. You inhale and plaster on a smile, not wanting to make him feel guilty.

He doesn’t even take the time to set down his keys or remove his shoes, but instead, comes rushing into the living room. When he sees you on the couch, he tosses his wallet, keys, and phone into the armchair, then drops to his knees in front of you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of lighting so he can’t examine your face as closely.

“Everything’s under control,” you murmur, even giving him a small smile, “Are you hungry?”

“I’m going to eat,” he says slowly, “But I’ll get it.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it for you,” you reply, wanting to be the partner for him that he is for you, “Sit down. I bet you’re tired.”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, “You’re the one who must be tired.”

You shake your head and stand while Rafe remains on his knees, moving his head up to look at you. 

“Come tell me about your day.”

Just Rafe’s presence in the house is enough to calm you down. After a mere few minutes, all of your anxiety seems to melt away, and before you know it, his food is in the oven and you’re on his lap in one of the chairs belonging to the kitchen table. 

“We got the preliminary site plans back for the marina, and I don’t know, Dad fuckin’ hated ‘em. He said the way it was laid out was dysfunctional, and gave me all these notes. The client’s up his ass. I sent Maria and Coop home, like, an hour ago so I could concentrate, but all I could think about was you guys.”

You give him a little smile, brushing his hair behind his ear with your fingertips. He leans into the gesture, seeking the comfort it brings.

Maria, a newer employee at the office, is a step below Rafe, but is still consulted on all of the major projects. You’d never met her, but Rafe speaks highly of her work ethic. Cooper, Rafe’s oldest buddy at the office, is also Josie’s office crush. Every time she sees him, she blushes and giggles and wants to hang out with him in his office.

“We’re fine,” you promise him, even though it makes your heart ache, “Let me check on your food.”

“Mmm,” he hums, protesting you getting up without giving him a kiss. 

His expression makes you laugh, and you lean down to kiss him before you can help it. He lets you get up after a minute to check on his dinner, which looks done. You transfer it on a plate and serve it to him with a bottle of water. 

“How were the kiddos?” he asks, thankful that you sit to join him while he eats. 

“They missed you,” you say quietly. 

He nods, “And their mom?”

Your eyes flicker up to him, watching how his expression changes. His lips slowly turn upward, and so do yours. Naturally. 

“She didn’t even notice,” you tease him. 

He laughs, dropping his fork on his plate before he looks over at you with raised eyebrows. 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I mean, it’s really—”

“Is Daddy home?”

Both of you turn to the doorway, finding Josie confidently standing in the middle of the kitchen, while Connor stays back. You smile and usher him in, watching his saucer eyes flicker cautiously between you and Rafe. 

“I’m home, princess,” Rafe says. 

Josie wastes no time crossing the kitchen and crawling up Rafe’s lap, where she eventually settles herself, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Missed you, Daddy,” Josie pouts, “Stop workin’.”

Rafe chuckles, “I’m sorry. Did you drag your brother out of bed?”

Connor stands beside you, his hand on your leg as he waits for Rafe to give him a hug. Josie shrugs from her place on Rafe’s lap while he leans down, embracing Connor. 

“She was in my room,” Connor explains, “She was trying to sleep, but got lonely without you, Dad.”

Your bottom lip juts out as you pull Connor into your lap, hugging him tightly. Rafe presses his lips to Josie’s forehead, looking regretful. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he whispers to her, “Daddy’s sorry, okay?”

“It’s okay,” she replies. He looks over at you, and when he notes your tired eyes, your dropped shoulders, and the way your grip on Connor isn’t as tight as usual, he pushes out his chair and stands, setting Josie on his hip.

“Come on, munchkins,” he announces, “Back to bed. Give Mommy her kisses and tell her thank you for taking care of you.”

Connor turns and looks up at you, giving you his best smile, “Goodnight, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, handsome,” you reply, giving him a hug and a kiss. 

“Night, Mama,” Josie says. Rafe leans down, letting Josie reach out until you could kiss her on the cheek. 

“Night, honey. Sleep tight.”

Rafe tucks his arm around you and presses a quick, sweet kiss to your temple, then nods his head in the direction of your room. 

“Go,” he whispers, “I’ll be right in.”

     When Rafe comes in about twenty minutes later, you’re already laid down. He smiles and steps over to you, watching as you faintly drag your eyes open to register that it’s him. You smile when you see his figure, but when you move to speak, he hushes you and pulls the blankets up over your body. 

He joins you a few minutes later, after he changes and brushes his teeth, and presses himself right up against you in the bed. His arms wrap around you, his scent fills your nose, and you can physically feel your body relax under his touch.

“This okay?” he asks you quietly. 

“Perfect,” you reply, “I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispers, “Get some rest.”

     The next day, Rafe texts you and asks if you and Josie can come by his office and have lunch with him. You decide it’s a good idea, and before you know it, you’re unloading a bag full of takeout food from the Club and a fussy, desperate-to-see-her-dad Josephine. 

“Daddy’s gonna eat all my french fries,” she says, and you can’t tell by her tone whether or not she wants that. 

“I got Daddy his own fries, sweetie,” you promise her, pulling her from her carseat. 

“He says mine taste better,” she remarks.

You laugh, because of course he does, and pick up the food, praying like hell your purse stays in place on your shoulder because you have officially run out of hands to hold it. Once you’re out of the parking lot, you let Josie walk with her hand in yours through the office building. Rafe’s section of the office seems busier than the remainder of the building, and the first thing you see when you walk in is Cooper. 

“Well, hey, Josie girl,” he grins, “Didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Joise draws back, her lips tipping up into a cheeky smile and her posture melting as she takes him in. 

“Hi, Mister Cooper,” she greets, giggling. 

Cooper laughs, “Did you come in to see me?”

“No, my Daddy.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods in understanding, reaching out for a hug from you, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Coop. Is he in his office?”

“Yeah, yeah, should be. And hey, if you get bored, Josie, come see me, okay? I’ve got a basketball hoop in my office.”

Her cheeks flush, “Really?”

You laugh at her cheekiness, at the way she’s totally crushing on him, and Cooper knows it too. 

“Oh, yeah. Anytime you want.”

“What do you say, Jo?” you remind her, watching her purse her lips. 

“Thank you, Mister Cooper,” she grins. 

“No problem,” he smiles in his most charming smile, “You guys enjoy your lunch.”

Josie tucks herself behind your legs as Cooper walks away, giving your arm a friendly pat as he passes. You laugh at her but let her remain there, clutching your leg as the two of you move toward Rafe’s office. You stop in front of his door, just for a moment, to get a better grip on the food and on your child, when a voice sounds through the hustle of the office. 

“Can I help you?”

Only out of pure curiosity do you spin around, being met with a pair of dark brown eyes. You scan down her body before you can help it, at her white blouse and pencil skirt, tan legs and heels that look a little too expensive. 

She draws back at you, too, you notice, eyes widening slightly as she looks at you, then down at Josie, who is still hiding between your legs. 

“Mrs. Cameron,” she breathes, “Oh.”

You swallow and shake your head, trying to put on your best friendly face. You smile, noting silently how her cheeks go pink at the understanding of who you are. 

“Hi,” you say, “Sorry. We’re going in, I was just losing my grip on the food.”

You hold it up as if it’s evidence, to which she just nods. She’s starting to look downright uncomfortable, and for a brief moment, you wonder what she’s doing guarding Rafe’s office the way she is. 

“No, no,” she replies, “I’m the one who should be sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first, but when I saw your face — Rafe has a picture on his desk of you — I mean, Mr. Cameron, um—”

“Hey,” you chuckle, reaching out and patting her forearm as an effort to relax her, “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended.”

She nods, but looks like she might throw up, “Okay. Sorry.”

You smile, ready to convince her that it’s all okay and ask for her name, when Rafe’s office door whips open. 

“Daddy!” Josie exclaims, letting go of you completely and reaching for him. 

“Hi, princess,” he greets her, leaning down to pick her up. 

You turn and give him a smile, tangling your hand in his when he grasps onto you, “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart, I was wondering where you were,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “I see you’ve met Maria.”

Maria. Maria with a good work ethic. Maria that he’s spent every night with this week. Maria, whose face is bright red now, as she observes her boss kissing his wife and daughter. Maria, who knows there’s a picture of you on Rafe’s desk, and who has looked at it so many times that she recognized you when you turned to face her.

“Maria,” you smile, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She gives herself away instantly. She refuses to meet Rafe’s eye, and only gives you quick glances, which is how you figure it all out. Rafe, seemingly oblivious, takes the bag of food from your hand. 

“You get fries?” he asks Josie, “You’ll share, won’t you, baby girl?”

“No,” Josie protests, “Mommy got you your own french fries.”

Rafe turns back into his office, expecting you to follow, “But yours taste so much better!”

Maria clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable under your glance, but you give her a smile anyway. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” you say. 

When she looks up at you, she can see it in your eyes. You can tell.

“You too, Mrs. Cameron,” she says weakly, then turns to walk back to her desk. 

You spin around and walk into Rafe’s office, closing the door gently behind you. He’s got Josie in his lap and has already unpacked the bag of styrofoam containers, serving her food to her first. 

“Did you mean to get tomato on your burger, baby?” he asks you, knowing you never do, “You can eat mine. Here.”

Your mind is still focused on her, still focused on not imagining them working late, alone, in this office, her in that short skirt, legs on full display, maybe she bends over a bit too far, maybe, just for a moment, Rafe thinks of how her body must look, never having been changed with child bearing —-

“Y/N,” he draws you out of your thoughts, “Sweetheart, sit down. You said we only have an hour.”

You swallow and nod, “Sorry.”

He gives you a hesitant look but hands over his burger and fries, which makes you shake your head. 

“That’s yours,” you object, waving it away. 

“No,” he says gently, “They put tomato on yours, so I’m gonna eat it. You take mine.”

“You didn’t get tomato?” 

He chuckles, stealing one of Josie’s fries, which makes her giggle. You remain standing, staring, wondering why he wouldn’t get tomato if he likes it. 

“No, I haven’t gotten tomato on my burger since we started dating.”

You frown, “Rafe—”

“Sit. Tell me about your morning.”

You’re being ridiculous. That’s what you tell yourself all throughout lunch. It’s Rafe. The same guy who has been in love with you since he was six, the same guy you’d been married to for seven years, the man you know would never jeopardize what you’ve created together. You squirm in your seat every time you can feel his eyes on you, and although you try to play the part, you can’t seem to get your heart all the way into it. 

Josie asks to see Cooper again, to which Rafe dials him on speaker on the office phone and lets Josie talk to him herself. She blushes and giggles when Cooper offers to come scoop her up so they can play basketball with the hoop he hung on the back of his door, eventually accepting the offer with the promise that Cooper will be right over to get her. 

He enters Rafe’s office not two minutes later and asks if he can carry her over, grinning widely when she nods and holds her arms up. Cooper takes her from Rafe’s lap and smiles proudly, then turns to both of you. 

“Obviously, you guys are welcome, too,” he says. 

You glance at Rafe, who shakes his head at you subtly. Normally, you would’ve declined when Rafe wanted to, but with the way he’s looking at you now, you give Cooper a smile. 

“Sure,” you reply, standing from your chair.

Rafe clears his throat but you ignore it. Cooper starts out of Rafe’s office, busying himself with Josie. You hear Rafe stand as you start to follow them, and just when you reach the threshold of the door, right where Maria can see you, Rafe calls to you. 

“Hold it.”

You halt immediately. You can feel Maria’s eyes, but you don’t look at her. You don’t turn around to Rafe, either. Instead, you swallow and remain rooted in your spot, ready to convince him that everything is fine. 

His arm maneuvers its way around your waist and pulls you into him, spinning you around once he can. You give him a gentle smile which he returns, not caring in the slightest about who can see the two of you. 

“What’s up?” he asks you quietly, “You’re distracted.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flicker to Maria’s desk. She averts her gaze immediately, flushing yet again as she scrambles to look busy. 

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping it’s convincing, “I think I’m just a little tired.”

Rafe raises a brow, “You sure?”

You swallow just as Rafe’s office phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even flinch, but you glance over at it and then back to him.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” 

He turns his head halfway, calling over his shoulder, “Maria?”

Your eyes move to her before you can help yourself, and you watch as she quickly stands, banging her knee against her desk at the abrupt movement and wincing. 

“Yes—” she clears her throat, dropping her gaze from you, “Yes, sir, Mr. Cameron?”

“Can you get that line for me?”

She nods, even though Rafe’s focus is still on you, “Yes, sir.”

“Talk to me,” he begs you, dropping his volume. 

You look into his eyes, meeting the desperation, the need to know what’s bothering you, and you smile. You smile because he’s working so hard to find out. You smile because he hasn’t gotten tomato on his burgers since you started dating in case you wanted a bite. You smile because, as he told you last night, he works late with Maria, and all he can think about is coming home to his family. 

This smile is believable, and it visibly relaxes him. His shoulders fall and his grip loosens slightly, like he no longer fears you running from him. 

“I was having a moment,” you mumble, “I’m okay now.”

He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, “Promise?”

Nodding, you answer, “I promise.”

“All right,” he gives in, “Why don’t we go see if our daughter’s gonna go pro, okay?”

You laugh, “Okay.”

He grins and takes your hand, leading the way to Cooper’s office without so much as a glance away from you. 

You and Josie leave pretty soon after. Rafe walks you two all the way down to your car, where he promises to be home on time tonight. After you leave, both you and Josie pick up Connor from school and head home, where you work on your laptop in the living room while the kids play together. Connor tries to teach Josie different facts about each of his stuffed dinosaurs, to which she politely states that she doesn’t really care to know that stuff, and instead invites him to play a game with her on the iPad they share. 

The second your laptop closes, Connor rises and walks over to the couch, carrying his favorite dinosaur toy. 

“Snuggles, Mama?” 

You grin, “Come here.”

You pick him up and lay him down on your chest, letting him cuddle in. He moves his head to look up at you, giving you his best dough eyes. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

His question forces a deep breath in, unable to believe that he’s so intuitive at his age. You nod and give him a smile, one that you pray is believable. 

“I’m great, baby,” you promise him.

Josie’s head peaks up over the coffee table and her eyes narrow when she sees the two of you. She stands abruptly and waddles over, glare still prominent. 

“I want snuggles, too,” she pouts. 

“There’s enough room for you, sweetie, come on up,” you smile at her, helping her climb over the couch. 

That’s how Rafe finds the three of you. He gets home about twenty minutes later, and when he catches sight of the view, a part of him wonders why he even bothers leaving for work during the day. 

He dives right in, moving Josie onto his chest and giving Connor a kiss while he asks how his day was at school. You just smile, unable to believe that you’d been insecure for even a moment about your marriage, or your body, or your husband.

     Rafe makes dinner, cleans up, and bathes the kids and puts them to bed, trying to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been home for that process all week. When he descends down the stairs with exhaustion written all over his face, you open your arms to him and laugh when he collapses on the couch beside you. 

“I finally managed to pry my hand from around Little Miss,” he tells you, “She’s got one hell of a grip.”

“She does,” you reply. 

“All right,” Rafe sighs, making himself comfortable, resting his head on your chest and shoving his hands underneath your shirt so he can feel you up, “Why don’t you tell me about your little moment today at my office.”

“Rafe, come on, it doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me,” he says, his tone harsher than he means, you’re sure, “I don’t like it when something’s bothering you and you won’t tell me what it is. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. I don’t care if it’s gross or weird or—”

“Maria has a crush on you,” you blurt, feeling him freeze from his place on top of you, “And it made me a little uncomfortable. But only for a minute. I’m fine now.”

He takes his time forming a response, but you note how his fingers begin to stroke the skin on your stomach a little more lightly, more tender, more gentle. You feel his jaw shift back and forth against your breast as he considers your words, and you hear him inhale a sharp breath before he sits up and looks at you, his eyes full of concern. 

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would’ve asked her to leave.”

“Leave?” you sit up, staring at him as if he’s lost it. 

“Yeah, leave,” he shrugs, “I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable when you come see me at work—”

“Rafe, that’s ridiculous. You couldn’t have asked her to stop doing her job just because I was there.”

“Why not?” he questions you, “I’m her boss.”

“Okay, just hold on,” you sigh, pushing your way out from under him and walking the length of the living room, “It was dumb of me to even be bothered by it. Can you at least admit that?”

“No. I would be bothered if someone you worked with had a crush on you,” he replies. 

“Yeah, but—”

“But, nothing,” he stops you, “Sweetheart, if you express to me that something is making you uncomfortable, I would never just brush you off. You know that.”

“Yes, I do, but this is stupid, Rafe. Maria seems like a sweet girl, and honestly, who can blame her for having a crush on you? I can’t, because I do, too. So, I don’t want you making her leave the office when I come in. I’m not that catty. This is silly to even talk about. I’m just tired. This poor girl has done nothing wrong, and—”

“Y/N,” he practically laughs, “Would you please just come sit down and relax for a second?”

You frown as you walk over to the couch, intending to sit beside him, but no part of you is surprised when he pulls you onto his lap instead. 

“I mean it, you know,” you mumble into his shirt, “I’m just tired, and I felt insecure, and I was thinking every single cliché thought about — well, her. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“I understand,” he says calmly, shifting your hair to the side and bringing his lips down to your neck, “What were your cliché thoughts?”

“Rafe,” you laugh, and so does he. 

“Come on. I want to know what was going on inside your head. You looked like you were one second away from getting sick all over my office.”

“I was not.”

He chuckles, pressing another soft kiss to your neck, “Tell me.”

“You know, all the typical shit,” you shrug, “She’s beautiful, and you guys are working late, and she’d start flirting with you, and—”

“Hmm, I don’t think I want to hear any more, baby,” he says quietly, his voice deeper than it had been, “I’ll handle it.”

You freeze, “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it does,” he replies, “Because it’s not just a matter of you seeing her when you come in. It’s a matter of me seeing her, too, isn’t it?”

“No—” you stop, shake your head, “Rafe, please don’t fire her—”

“I’m not going to fire her, sweetheart,” he laughs lightly, “I’ll put in a transfer for her. It’s not a big deal.”

You sigh, “This is so—”

“It’s not stupid,” he grunts, “I know that you trust me, and I know that you know me, but I’m not going to let you continue to be uncomfortable with this. Everything is fine. Just relax.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you pout, but cuddle yourself into his chest anyway. 

“You shouldn’t,” he replies, “All you did was tell me the truth.”

“But, you told me how she has a good work ethic, and if you need her or whatever—”

“The only woman I need is you,” he says, a teasing smile forming on his lips, “So, no, I personally don’t give a fuck if she’s in that office or not.”

You purse your lips to hide a smile, “Okay.”

“I’ll hire a really old guy to take her place, how’s that sound? But, if he starts crushing on me, too—”

“Stop,” you groan, burying your head in his neck to hide your embarrassment. 

Rafe laughs, and the sound of it makes you smile. His grip tightens around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Kidding,” he mumbles, “Although, I am still thinking about how you admitted to having a crush on me.”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

“Of course I have a crush on you, you goon.”

Rafe laughs, loosening his grip when you move to turn around on his lap. He smiles once you’re face to face with him, placing his hands on your waist and squeezing. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’ll always pick you. Your happiness, your comfort, your security. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it, it’s all noise to me anyway. Clear?”

“Clear,” you repeat, “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too. Can I take you to bed now?”

You grin, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he mutters, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “It’s been a long fucking week, and I haven’t been paying proper attention to my wife.”

You giggle like a little kid when he stands up, guiding your legs around his waist so he can carry you to your room. You kiss him as he walks, trying to kiss your thanks into him for being so understanding, so compassionate, so yours. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket just before you enter your bedroom, and when you pull it out to check it, you find a text from Maddie. 

Did you talk to him?

Rafe laughs as he looks over your shoulder, “You should totally mess with her.”

“What, like tell her we’re breaking up over it?” your eyes go wide. 

“She’d freak,” he chuckles to himself, “But, no. Don’t speak that into existence. You’re stuck with me. Even Maddie knows it.”

You smile and kiss him again, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of being so close to him, so in love with him, and so needed by him.

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[xxshadowbabexx]

I See You

Warnings: language (barely), mentions of death, insecurity, fluff, established relationship

Written for: @chamomiletealeaf I hope this helps a bit <333 I can always make a pt. 2 for you if you want

You’ve been feeling blue lately. John had been extra busy at work, and your friends… well you weren’t sure if you could even call them that anymore. Their words were strung around in your head like fairy lights and they just kept screaming. You wanted to cry and you could feel the faucet turning behind your eyes. 

The tears were welling and were about to burst through when you heard the bedroom door open. 

“Hey sweetheart how’re you-“ he started, only to  freeze when he saw you with red eyes and flushed cheeks. 

“Fuck love, what’s wrong?” he asks, moving to cup your cheeks and thumb away your tears as they finally spill over. 

You weren’t really sure what to say as you buried himself in the cashmere sweater he wore. You inhaled his scent as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay doll, I’m here for you, just talk to me, can you do that?” he asks while rubbing your back and you nod because you can. For him you’ll do anything. 

“I just… I’ve been missing you a lot and I know I signed up for this but… I thought when I did I would have friends here for me when you were gone but I don’t think I do anymore…” you trail off, wanting nothing more than to sink into yourself and fade into the darkness. 

“What do you mean? You’ve got friends, love,” he questions, eyes filled with worry and concern as he ached to help you but didn’t know how. 

“I- I thought I had friends too but lately… well lately they’ve been talking about me dying, and like not in a sad way. Almost as if they wouldn’t care and I don’t understand? I try so hard to be good for them so why am I not enough? Am I-“

“No,” he cuts you off with a stern glare “It’s not you, love, it’s them. You’re the most amazing person to ever grace this godforsaken Earth. They’re lucky to have you, understand?” He asks, and you know he won’t stop until you’re repeating his words. 

“They’re lucky to.. have me,” you barely choke out, only for his eyes to turn stern. 

“Almost love, need you to say the whole thing,”

You groan internally as you close your eyes, preparing to spit out the words. “I’m the most amazing person to grace this world, and they’re all lucky to have me,”

He smiles, almost happy. “Good girl, now say it like you mean it, yeah?” 

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@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @reap3erslov3 @ladyxtiger @whitetiger846

#captain john price #john price #captain price #john price x reader