#and I experienced something that made me feel true happiness in I don’t know how fuckin long

[whodarestoloveforever]

Hard to believe this was a year ago today.

I’m still so grateful I was able to see POTO the night of the 35th anniversary; it actually brings me to tears. 💕

[fallow-hollow]

Hiii I am Dying of nervousness sending in a request for the first time but could I get Mithrun and a gn!reader? Nothing else needs to be specific, just that (sorry if I am making it difficult for you ^^')

body heat

…ft! mithrun x gn! reader

…tags! fluff, post-canon, spoilers for manga and ending, established relationship, cuddling

…word count! 955

…notes! don’t see a lotta mithrun content out there, so i’m happy to write for him! i hope this meets your expectations anon!!

“Mithruuuun,” you whined, unable to see your lover even when looking over your shoulder. “C’mere with me and light the fire already, it’s so cold in here.”

Mithrun shot you a glance from where he stood a distance away, despite the fact that you couldn’t return it. “Is it? I can’t tell.”

His flat tone of voice made it even more obvious that the elf truly knew nothing of the agony you were experiencing, imbuing you with a sense of lighthearted frustration. Tossing your head back, you would groan,

“Of course you can’t tell, you’d wear a flowy tunic even if it was a blizzard outside! Now come help me!”

Without as much of a sound to warn you, the man suddenly appeared at your side, causing you to both jump and squeak from the spontaneous nature of his movement. Scratch that, knowing him, it was probably teleportation. Hardly necessary, considering how close you were, but you wouldn’t put it past your lover to do such a thing just to scare you. What a tease…..

“I don’t mind helping you, but sometimes I do wonder if you choose not to do it on your own just to spend time with me.”

Now, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Mithrun to say something like this completely genuinely, but the ghost of a smirk gracing those gorgeous features of his let you know that he was most certainly poking fun at you right now. He could be so arrogant sometimes… not that you truly minded.

Ever since Mithrun had recently retired to live with you in the still fledgling Golden Country, you’d noticed him start to become ever so slightly livelier at times. In the past, he’d always said he was grateful that you didn’t meet him when he was so pompous and flippant, but to you, a few snarky remarks here and there didn’t bother you at all. If anything, it meant that he could reclaim his old self while also embracing the new, which made a hopeful prospect for your shared future.

While you were in the process of pondering these feelings, the man beside you went right ahead with his magic. Though he mainly specialized in teleportation magic, any self-respecting member of the Canaries, former or otherwise, knew how to do something as simple as create some flame. The firewood you’d piled up caught almost instantly, creating a blaze that was perfect in both size and temperature.

“Thank you.” You acknowledged him with a nod, figuring that was all he would do. It seemed that Mithrun had other plans, however, judging by his choice to lift up one end of your blanket and wedge himself into the space next to you. A bit confused, you shot him a glance. “I thought you said you weren’t cold?”

He hummed. “But I want to be with you.”

Want. It was such a strange word to hear from Mithrun. For the longest time, he insisted he was unable to want anything at all, aside from the burning need for vengeance. Even now, he struggled with things like eating or sleeping. So to hear that he wants you, of all things…

You did nothing to hide the smile on your face. “You always can, you big goof.”

Whenever the two of you snuggled, your lover never really knew where to put his hands. This rang just as true now, with his arms awkwardly hovering on either side of you, unsure where to grasp or hold. With an almost practiced sense of effortlessness, you guided him to wrap both arms around your waist, positioning one at a time.

For a man so strong, he was quite pliant under your touch. One could easily say that it was his own apathy causing such behavior, but on the other hand, it was nice to believe that he chose to do so of his own free will.

He certainly had no trouble plopping his head down on your shoulder, completely unbothered by the way his cheek was squished from the proximity. How could someone be so battle hardened yet so…..cute?

“You comfy?”

The elf hummed affirmatively, the sound slightly muffled by the close contact. You allowed one hand to snake behind his back and rest comfortably on his hip, meanwhile the other grasped the edge of the blanket to keep it snugly wrapped around you. Honestly, Mithrun could probably be in the strangest position imaginable and still consider himself perfectly comfortable, so you weren’t entirely sure why you asked. It just felt… nice to check in on him. Like the right thing to do, no matter how obvious his answer may be to you.

Soft crackling sounds served as the backdrop for these thoughts, all while your lover remained still and relaxed by your side, having some ponderings of his own. Without you, Mithrun often found it difficult to settle down. He was getting a little better at knowing when to rest and eat in recent days, but even at times where he was well aware of the tiredness weighing him down, it was difficult to want to rest. Especially when what he wanted even more was to wait for you.

With you, he was able to feel at ease in a way that he still struggled with for the most part. Just like that dwarf had told him, even vegetable scraps could grow anew when placed in the soil and cared for. Maybe you were the earth, and he wanted nothing more than to relax while surrounded by you. He really wasn’t great at metaphors, so he couldn’t quite tell.

Of one thing, though, he could certainly be sure.

“I think that it should get cold more often.”

[noyasmashing]

Can I have more Yan Tamaki hcs? 🫠

Me and my husband were sticking together

• warnings: sub!yan! Tamaki x gn!reader, scent kink, soft yandere behavior, slight stalking, etc.

• authors note: HAII MILLY o(^ . ^)o I’m sorry for being so inactive!! Ive been traveling a lot more than I thought I would and I haven’t had much time to write :(( anyways yes yes here ya go!

Alright I’m just gunna say it. He has a scent kink. Especially the scent of your worn, sweat-drenched workout shorts, he can't help but be drawn to it. Painting an image of you sweaty, tired and yet oh so pretty in his mind. He's become so obsessed with the aroma that he's started to steal your clothes, to the point that you’ve begun to notice something is off.

Despite his shame and guilt over his actions, he's unable to resist the allure of your smell, which has become an intoxicating trigger for him. As a hero, he knows he should be above such base desires, but how can he help himself when he’s never experienced such intense emotions before? It’s not his fault your so attractive!!

Tamaki's arousal is amplified by the prospect of being caught in the act, whether it's pleasuring himself while smelling your clothes or being caught red-handed while stealing them. Despite his deep-seated shame and embarrassment over these desires, he's unable to suppress them, and they often find their way into his dreams.

In fact, the fantasy of being punished for his actions has become a recurring theme in his sleep. He loves the idea of being helpless under your control, with vibrators placed anywhere on him you pleased. His cock, prostate, nipples, he doesn’t care as long as your happy.

His deepest desire is to relinquish control and surrender to your will, allowing him to abandon all responsibility and simply obey without hesitation.

Despite being so pathetic, he has a strong desire to impress you. Being shy, he's not one for grand gestures, but he makes an effort to showcase his small accomplishments in the hopes you'll take notice. If you show more interest in Mirio than him, he'll become sulky and withdrawn. When you're near Mirio, he'll feel anxious and insecure. However, his demeanor changes instantly if you direct even a simple question or comment towards him - it's as if a weight lifts off his shoulders, and he's revitalized by your attention.

Tamaki has a tendency to become dramatically upset in your presence, often feigning hurt or distress in the hopes of gaining sympathy and affection from you. Solely to get a reaction from you, one that he can store away to fuel his late-night fantasies.

Despite his ardent desire to catch your attention, he finds himself tongue-tied and unable to articulate his feelings. When he tries to speak to you, his lower lip begins to tremble and his ears turn a bright red with embarrassment. His words get jumbled and tangled on his tongue, rendering him speechless. As a result, he usually resorts to simply nodding his head or muttering a few faint words.

Tamaki's naturally introverted nature often leads him to adopt a listening role, and he finds himself eavesdropping on your conversations out of a misplaced sense of duty. He rationalizes this behavior as a desire to "protect" and "keep you safe," but it's clear that his true motivation is to uncover more about you.

But that's not all - Tamaki is quite the photographer. He likely has an entire album dedicated to pictures of you on his phone, filled with videos and audio recordings of your laughter, conversations with him, and hell even just you talking to a friend. The poor boy would not be able to contain himself if you made a suggestive joke in his presence. Scurrying off to the nearest bathroom with a raging boner. That’s how bad his fascination with your voice is, and he can't help but replay it in his head, imagining all the intimate things you might say to him. He can get rather sloppy with trying to capture you, oblivious as ever. Let’s just hope you don’t catch him recording you, even with his clumsiness. Tamaki's enthusiasm can sometimes get the better of him, causing him to be reckless in his pursuit of capturing your perfection. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get caught by you, even with his clumsiness.

[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who has your city in the weather app on his phone. as soon as Namjoon started talking to you and felt a little flower blooming inside his heart, he was quick to add your city to his app. seeing it every day, Namjoon made sure to always remind you to wear a scarf or take your umbrella with you. whatever the weather in your city, Namjoon was always ready with little pieces of advice and reminders to make your day better. “it’s going to be quite hot there today.do you have your water bottle with you? carry a fan in your backpack and stop for some ice cream before you get home. you deserve this treat.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who swears the only music that warms his soul is the sound of your voice. Namjoon was in love with you. in a way, your presence in his life had made the world a worthy place to live. you were like a ray of light in the grayest of days. with your laughs and stories, you could warm Namjoon’s heart even if you were miles away. and it was in your voice that Namjoon knew the true comfort of existence. being an eternity away from you, it was in your voice that Namjoon found true love. and there was no music or symphony that could compare with the melody of your voice. “talk to me. tell me about your day. describe the sky to me. say whatever you want, but speak. i need the calm that your voice brings me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who offers you a set of cards titled ‘open when…’. the world was cruel and challenging, that was a truth known to everyone; as such, Namjoon tried to make your distance less painful by writing a set of letters for you to open at specific times. from a drawing of two arms for when you need a hug, or a recipe for soup when you want comfort, an extensive array of letters were delivered to you on a blustery winter morning — and you swore the sun came out the moment you saw that set of cards. “i think i planned every possible scenario. but if you need a card and don’t find one in this set, send a text. i leave everything to write you a digital letter, just ask.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who says he already missed you before he met you. when he met you, Namjoon felt at peace. for some reason, since the day he met you, Namjoon stopped being so heavy. it was as if you had brought with you the garden of eden that Namjoon delighted in from the moment he met you. in a way, Namjoon’s heart stopped bleeding when the two of you formed a friendship. and oh, when his flower expanded into bushes and trees, Namjoon could feel, for the first time in years, what true happiness was. “meeting you was like coming home after a long day of work. meeting you was a comfort i already knew but had never experienced. meeting you was meeting me for the first time. and i missed you and your soul so much.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who writes a song about you and the distance that separates you. it was more than obvious that Namjoon would express his feelings in a song — it was the only way he knew to alleviate some of the pain he felt. but unlike all the other songs, that one was just made for you. from lyrics to melody, the song was made from scratch, always with you in mind, wanting to show you how much he loved you and how unfair fate was for having put you so far away. “i wrote this song to ease the weight of my heart. it’s a simple poem about my feelings, but i want you to know that my entire soul is forever engraved here. and only for you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who reads to you every night. fairy tales never sounded so innocent when uttered by Namjoon’s tender lips. telling you various adventures and love stories, Namjoon read to you every night before you went to sleep, hoping that his voice would be enough to bring you some comfort even though he was on the other side of the phone. with delicate words and graceful pronunciations, Namjoon lulled you into a deep sleep at the end of an extremely exhausting day — a reminder that he would always be just a call away from you. “today i want to do something different. when i went to the cafe, i heard a conversation between two strangers and i would like to repeat it to you. it’s about a flower’s love for water.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who left everything behind just to be able to hug you. Namjoon was at a stage in his life where only you mattered. yes, he loved his friends. yes, he loved his family. yes, he loved his job. but, oh, how he loved you. the world only made sense because Namjoon knew you existed; all light came from you, all happiness came from you, all life came from you. you were the world to Namjoon and he didn’t mind leaving all his other loves behind if it meant having you in his arms for the first time. “my heart was begging to come home. i really needed to see you. we spent a lot of time apart. now i’m here. now i’m home. me and my heart are at home.”

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 18/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Smut and more Smut, Teasing, Language, age gap, flirting, angst, fluff

Word Count: 9167

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

You didn’t know how many times you let the water rinse out and filled the tub with fresh hot water. You also lost count of how many bath bombs you had used by now, their scents blending together in a soothing, but ultimately ineffective, attempt to lift your spirits. You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of the tub. It had been over two hours, and by now your skin looked like that of an 80-year-old.

Just then, you heard a soft knock against the doorframe. You glanced up to see Jensen standing there, a concerned look on his face.

“Hey”, he said softly, his voice filled with gentle concern.

You looked back down at your pruned, popped-up knees. “Hey”, you mumbled.

Jensen stepped further into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He knelt beside the tub, his presence a calming anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. “You’re okay?”, Jensen asked gently. He knew you weren’t okay, could see it in the way you avoided meeting his eyes, in the way your shoulders were tensed despite the warmth of the water.

His chin rested on the edge of the bathtub as he waited patiently for you to look at him. The air between you held a palpable tension, filled with unspoken words and emotions swirling beneath the surface. Jensen’s concern radiated from him, a silent plea for you to open up, to let him in.

You finally raised your eyes to meet his. “I… I’m just tired”, you admitted quietly, your voice wavering slightly.

Jensen’s expression softened even more, his concern deepening. “I can see that”, he said gently. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”.

A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to put your feelings into words. It was a lot for you to take in—all the female fans hugging him, crushing on him, screaming at him, literally paying money for a glimpse of him. And then there was his public persona, speaking about his wife and acting like everything was fine with his marriage. It made you feel like a secret, hidden away from his friends and the world. You were a girl half his age, his affair, his side chick, or whatever the fuck you were. The thought made you feel stupid and insignificant.

But you didn’t want to cause him stress, so you just shook your head slightly. “It’s nothing”, you lied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just a lot going on”.

Jensen wasn’t convinced. He reached out, gently cupping your face and urging you to look at him. “Please, talk to me”, he said softly. “One of the reasons things work so well between us is because we talk about everything. I don’t want you to hold back”.

His words tugged at your heart, making it harder to keep your emotions bottled up. Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally let the truth spill out. “It’s just… everything”, you began, your voice cracking. “Seeing all those fans today, hugging you, screaming for you… And then hearing you talk about your wife like everything is fine. It just… it made me feel stupid".

You couldn’t help but let your tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t want to be too clingy, Jensen”, you mumbled, your voice trembling. “But I can’t help how I feel. I… I just have such intense feelings already for you. I never had something like this before. I never felt so strong for someone like I do for you”.

Seeing you cry was the most terrible thing Jensen had ever experienced. He felt a sharp pang of regret and helplessness, and he remembered Jared’s words about needing to tell you how he truly felt. But the weight of his complicated life held him back, making the words stick in his throat.

Jensen took a deep breath, his hands gently cupping your face as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “I’m so sorry”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to make you feel this way. You mean so much to me, more than I can put into words”.

"Forget what I just said”, you mumbled, pulling slightly away from him and brushing your tears away harshly. “It’s stupid”, you muttered, grabbing your towel and slowly getting out of the bathtub. You felt too vulnerable sitting in front of him like that.

Jensen watched you, his heart aching at the sight of you pulling away. He stood up, giving you space but not wanting to let the moment slip away without addressing your feelings. “It’s not stupid”, he said softly, his eyes following your movements as you wrapped the towel around yourself.

You turned to face him, trying to regain some composure. “It is. I shouldn’t have said anything. You have enough on your plate”.

Jensen stepped closer, but kept a respectful distance, his voice gentle but firm. “No, you shouldn’t have to keep these feelings bottled up. They’re valid, and they matter. You matter to me”.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “I just don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to complicate your life even more”.

“You’re not a burden”, he insisted, his eyes filled with sincerity. “And yes, things are complicated, but that doesn’t mean your feelings don’t count. I want to know how you feel, even if it’s hard to hear”.

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or insincerity. But all you saw was concern and a deep longing to make things right. “I just don’t know how to fit into your life without feeling like a meaningless affair”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s heart ached, feeling the weight of your words. He knew your point wasn’t about wanting to be in the spotlight. It was about wanting to share the simple, everyday moments that couples take for granted. Things like going out to dinner or holding hands in public without fear. But right now, with the complexities of his life, there was no easy way to make that happen.

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I understand what you’re saying”, he began, his voice low and filled with emotion. “And I know it’s not fair to you. I wish I could change things right now, make it so we could just be normal. But it’s going to take time”.

You nodded, the towel wrapped tightly around you as if it could shield you from the pain. “I get that. I really do. But it doesn’t make it any easier”.

Jensen stepped closer, his hands reaching out but stopping short. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know how long it will take to get to a place where we can have that normalcy. But I want you to know that I’m committed to trying. I don’t see you as a burden, and I never will".

Again, tears rolled down your cheeks. You felt terrible for causing him stress already after such a short time. “I’m sorry”, you mumbled, feeling the urge to walk away and give him space.

As you turned to leave, Jensen reached out and gently held your wrist, his touch firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize”, he said, his voice steady and reassuring. “You have nothing to be sorry for”.

You looked back at him, your eyes filled with doubt and sorrow. “I just don’t want to make things harder for you”.

Jensen shook his head, taking a step closer. “You’re not making things harder. You’re helping me understand what you need, what we both need to make this work. We’re in this together, remember?”.

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. The warmth of his body and the sincerity in his touch gave you a sense of comfort, easing the ache in your heart. “We’ll figure it out”, he whispered against your hair. “Just… please don’t be mad at me. I’m trying, I really am”.

You pressed your face against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I’m not mad at you”, you mumbled into his shirt. “I’m mad at me. For feeling this way, for wanting more”.

Jensen tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking your hair. “Don’t be mad at yourself either. It’s okay to want more. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling”.

You took a shaky breath, absorbing his words. “I just want to be with you, without all these complications”.

“I know”, he said softly, his voice filled with understanding. “And I want that too… We’ll find a way to make it work”.

You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, seeing the determination and sincerity there. “Promise me we’ll try”, you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I promise. We’ll try, and we’ll do it . And no more feeling like you’re just an afterthought”.

He sighed, mumbling, “Because you’re not”, while gently brushing his hand over your back. Deep down, he knew you needed to hear those three words, but he just couldn’t bring himself to say them out loud. Not yet.

You nodded, appreciating his honesty, even though you sensed his struggle. “I believe you”, you whispered, holding him a little tighter. The weight of the unspoken words lingered between you, but his touch and his presence provided a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Jensen pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment.

There was a silence before he spoke again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken you to the convention", he said hesitantly, concern evident in his voice.

You shook your head, interrupting him. “No, Jensen. It was good. I needed to see that side of your life. It’s better to face it sooner rather than later. And honestly”, you continued, a small smile forming on your lips, “I felt so proud seeing you up there, seeing how much your fans love you”.

His eyes softened at your words, and he took a deep breath, relief mixing with lingering concern. “I just don’t want you to feel like this again. It hurts to see you so upset”.

You bit your lip as you saw the sincerity in his eyes. Your heart swelled, and you gently pulled him down to you by his neck. Without another word, you brought your lips to his, a soft yet fervent kiss that conveyed all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. After all, he was here. With you. With no one else, and that’s what mattered.

Jensen responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. The warmth and tenderness of the moment reassured you, grounding you in the reality of his presence and the strength of your connection.

Jensen carefully lifted you onto his hips, your towel slipping away as he did so. You couldn’t help but laugh as you heard a soft crack from his back. The sound made you pull away from his lips, pressing your face against his neck to stifle your giggles. Your naked body was pressed intimately against his, creating a delicious friction.

Jensen chuckled along with you, a playful grin spreading across his face. “You think that’s funny, huh?”, he teased, his voice a mix of amusement and mock annoyance.

You nodded, your laughter muffled against his neck. “A little”, you admitted, still giggling.

“Well, I’m glad my old man back can amuse you”, he replied, his tone light but affectionate. He shifted his grip slightly, adjusting to hold you more securely. “But you better be careful, or I might just drop you”.

You gasped in mock horror, tightening your legs around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare”, you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”, he said, raising an eyebrow. He took a few exaggerated, wobbly steps, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, okay, I surrender”, you said, breathless from laughter. “Please don’t drop me”.

Jensen smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Never”, he said seriously, his playful tone gone. “I would never drop you”.

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “I know”, you whispered against his mouth.

With that, he carried you towards the couch, placing you softly on it. As he pulled away, he took a moment to look up and down your naked body, his eyes filled with admiration and warmth. Then, with a dramatic flair, he dropped slowly to his knees, his face level with your belly.

“How incredibly beautiful you are”, he mumbled theatrically, his hands gently tracing the contours of your sides. His voice was filled with mock seriousness, yet there was an undeniable sincerity in his eyes.

You giggled, feeling a mix of amusement and affection. “You’re ridiculous”, you said, your laughter bubbling up again.

Jensen’s grin widened as he continued his dramatic performance. “Ridiculously lucky to have you”, he declared, his hands gently caressing your thighs. “Here I am, an old man with a creaky back, and you… you’re a vision of beauty and youth”.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re not that old”, you teased back, your voice light with affection.

“Oh, but I am”, he insisted, keeping his tone exaggeratedly serious. “Every time I lift you, my back reminds me of my age”, As he spoke, he slowly began to spread your legs, his touch gentle yet firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your breath hitched slightly at the intimacy of the moment, but the playful atmosphere kept things light. “Well, maybe you should stop lifting me then”, you suggested, your voice teasing.

Jensen shook his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Never. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make”, he said, leaning in to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

His words and actions sent shivers through you, a mixture of laughter and desire making your heart race. “You’re impossible”, you murmured, your hands gently threading through his hair.

His eyes never leaving yours, Jensen leaned in even closer, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. His lips were just inches away from your most intimate part, and you could feel his breath against your skin.

“You think I’m impossible?”, he teased, his voice low and husky. “Well, maybe I am. But I’m also determined. Determined to make you feel as incredible as you make me feel”.

You could only manage a soft whimper in response, the anticipation building inside you. Jensen’s hands gently stroked your thighs, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”, he continued, his lips brushing ever so lightly against your skin, teasing you without giving you what you desperately wanted. “Every inch of you… I could spend hours just touching, finding all the ways to make you moan”.

Your breathing grew heavier, your hands clutching at the cushions beneath you. “Jensen, please”, you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. “Please what, darling?”, he asked, his lips so close now that you could almost feel them on you. “Tell me what you want”.

You locked eyes with him, your desire and anticipation palpable as his lips hovered close to your skin.

“Please”, you repeated, your voice a desperate plea, your body arching slightly towards him. “I need you”.

Jensen’s smirk softened into a tender smile as he finally gave in to your request. Without another word, he closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting your most sensitive spot with a deliberate and passionate kiss. The sensation sent an electric jolt through your body, causing you to gasp and clutch onto him tightly.

Jensen’s tongue moved with deliberate precision, the warmth of his mouth enveloping your most sensitive areas. Each gentle lick sent a shiver through your body, the sensation both soothing and electrifying. His hands continued to caress your thighs, his touch light and teasing as he focused entirely on your pleasure.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he worked his magic. The friction of his movements, the pressure of his lips and tongue against you, built an intense, consuming heat within you. Your body responded eagerly, arching towards him, seeking more of his touch.

Jensen alternated between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, flicking motions that left you whimpering with need. His eyes flicked up to meet yours occasionally, the desire in his gaze making the moment even more intimate.

As the pleasure built, your muscles tensed, your body trembling under his skilled touch. The intensity of his attention, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed, brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, your fingers tightening in his hair, urging him on.

Jensen responded to your silent pleas, increasing the intensity of his movements. His tongue moved faster, more insistent, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as you writhed under him.

Just as you felt the wave of your climax approaching, Jensen suddenly stopped. He pulled his mouth away, leaving you teetering on the edge of release. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he looked up at you, clearly enjoying the teasing.

“Jensen”, you whimpered, your voice thick with desperation and need.

He shifted until he was sitting on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he began to open his belt, his movements deliberate and tantalizing. “I think it’s about time for some tutoring”, he murmured, his tone playful yet commanding.

Your breath hitched at his words, a mixture of frustration and excitement coursing through you. You watched as he undid his jeans.

Jensen leaned back, his eyes dark with desire as he gestured for you to come closer. “C´mere”, he said softly, his voice filled with a mix of authority and affection.

You moved towards him, your body still humming with the need for release. As you reached him, Jensen pulled you onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips. He guided you with gentle hands, positioning you just right, making sure you felt the full length of his arousal pressing against you.

He brought his mouth to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I want to feel you”, he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, a mix of nervousness and anticipation creeping inside you as Jensen’s hands firmly gripped your hips, guiding you. He lifted you slightly, positioning himself at your entrance. The sensation of his hardness pressing against you made your breath catch.

“Relax”, he murmured softly. “I’m here with you”.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. Jensen’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. Slowly, he began to lower you onto him, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through your body. Inch by inch, he filled you, stretching you in the most delicious way.

“Fuck, you feel amazing”, he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he finally buried himself fully inside you.

You whimpered quietly as Jensen filled you to the brim, the sensation both intense and overwhelming. You still weren’t used to his size, and the feeling of him stretching you was almost too much to bear. Your hands trembled as you placed them against his chest, seeking some stability.

Jensen noticed your shivering hands and brought one of his own up to cover them, squeezing gently. “Take your time”, he whispered.

You nodded, taking deep, steadying breaths as you adjusted to the fullness. His touch, both on your hands and your hips, provided a grounding sense of comfort and support.

Gradually, the initial intensity eased, replaced by a growing wave of pleasure. You began to move, experimenting with small, slow movements at first, finding a rhythm that felt right.

“You’re doing so well”, he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

Emboldened by his words, you began to move more confidently, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto him. You were better than the last time, but still way too insecure. Jensen could see the effort you were putting in and gave you time, clearly enjoying how you tried to find a rhythm that would fit you.

After a while, however, he leaned in and began kissing your neck, his lips soft and reassuring against your skin. “Remember what I showed you”, he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His other hand dropped to your hip, gently urging you to roll your hips on him at a different angle.

Slowly, you began to roll your hips, experimenting with the angle he suggested. The new motion sent a wave of pleasure through you, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“That’s it”, Jensen murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of praise and desire. His hands guided your movements, helping you find a rhythm that felt even better. The sensation of him inside you, combined with the intimate kisses on your neck, made you feel both cherished and empowered.

You continued to move, your confidence growing with each thrust and roll of your hips. Jensen’s hands stayed on your hips, guiding and supporting you, his own pleasure evident in the way his breathing quickened and his grip tightened.

As you found your rhythm, the pleasure between you intensified. Your movements became more fluid and natural, the connection between you deepening with every motion. Jensen’s hands roamed your back and hips, his touch both grounding and electrifying.

The new angle and rhythm brought you both closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—your breathy moans, his deep groans, the intimate whispers and encouragements exchanged between you.

“That’s perfect”, Jensen whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. “Just like that”.

You felt a surge of pride and excitement at his words, knowing you were bringing him as much pleasure as he was bringing you. The intensity of the moment grew, the friction and heat building with each movement.

His lips brushing against your neck before sucking on your soft flesh, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His hands wandered up to your waist, his touch firm and reassuring.

As he pulled his lips away, he leaned back slightly, giving himself a better view of you riding him. His eyes were dark with lust, watching intently as your body moved, taking him in with each thrust. The sight of your pussy enveloping his cock, stretching around him, sent a thrill through him, intensifying his desire.

“Look at you”, he groaned, his hands tightening on your waist. “So beautiful”.

Jensen couldn’t get enough of the sight in front of him. The way your breasts bounced ever so softly with each movement, the glistening wetness dripping down his cock every time you lifted your hips, and the way your mouth hung open, releasing moan after moan—it was all driving him wild with desire.

“Keep going”, he urged, his voice a mix of command and raw need. “Don’t stop. You’re doing so good, baby”.

You bit your lip and moved with renewed vigor, riding him harder, the rhythm between you perfect. Every thrust sent waves of ecstasy through your body, the pleasure almost too intense to bear.

Jensen’s hands roamed your body, caressing your waist, your back, and your breasts. His touch was firm and possessive, grounding you in the moment and intensifying the connection between you. His eyes never left you, drinking in every detail of your pleasure.

Jensen’s desire to push you further spurred him into action. With one flat palm, he pressed gently on your stomach, urging you to lean back slightly. “Hold on to my thighs”, he whispered, his voice low and commanding.

You did as he instructed, gripping his thighs behind you. The new angle changed everything. The moment you shifted back, the intensity of the sensations amplified.

Your head fell back as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. Your body shuddered as you rode the waves of intense pleasure. The angle and depth of Jensen’s thrusts were perfect, hitting spots inside you that sent shockwaves through your entire being. You felt the build-up, the tight coiling within you reaching its peak.

“There you go”, he murmured.

The sound of his voice, the intensity in his eyes, and the overwhelming sensation of him inside you all combined to send you over the edge. You came hard around him, your muscles tightening and pulsing, your breath catching in a series of gasps and moans.

Your entire body trembled with the force of your orgasm, the pleasure radiating out in powerful waves. Jensen’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breaths coming in ragged bursts as he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your ecstasy.

As your orgasm began to subside, you felt Jensen’s rhythm falter slightly, a sign of his own impending release. His grip on your hips was almost bruising now, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate.

“Fuck Baby”, he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You felt a rush of satisfaction at his words, knowing you had pushed him to the brink. With a few more powerful thrusts, Jensen’s body tensed, and he let out a deep, guttural moan as he found his release. You could feel him pulsing inside you, the sensation adding a final, intense burst of pleasure to your already overwhelmed senses.

As the last waves of pleasure subsided, you let yourself fall forward against Jensen’s chest, your body trembling and your breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. You clung to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you sought to steady yourself.

Jensen held you close, his own breathing heavy and uneven. He gently stroked your back, his touch soothing and grounding as you both came down from the intense high. His heart pounded against your chest, a steady reminder of the connection you shared.

“Fuck, that was amazing”, he murmured against your hair, his voice still thick with emotion and satisfaction.

You nodded against him, unable to find the words to express how incredible it had been. Instead, you pressed a soft kiss to his neck, your lips lingering on his skin as you savored the closeness.

As Jensen’s hands continued to move gently over your back, providing a soothing and reassuring touch, you both basked in the afterglow of your shared intimacy. The silence was comfortable, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing.

After a while, Jensen softly murmured against your hair, “Do you think you can handle tomorrow with this on your mind?”.

You lifted your head slightly, looking into his eyes. “I think I can”, you replied with a soft grin.

Jensen’s eyes softened further, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. As he pressed you tighter against him, you felt his softened dick slip out of you, causing a warm sensation as his cum began to drip out of you, pooling onto his crotch.

You both paused for a moment, the intimacy of the situation deepening.

Jensen chuckled softly, breaking the silence with a lighthearted comment. “I really cause a mess every time, don’t I?”, he said, his tone playful yet tender.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound easing the remaining tension in the room. “Yeah, you do”, you replied, your voice equally playful. “But I guess it’s a good kind of mess”.

Jensen smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Definitely a good kind of mess”, he agreed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Jensen glanced around the room, looking a bit helpless as he searched for something to clean up the mess between the two of you. You chuckled softly, finding the situation amusing yet endearing. Without missing a beat, you reached under the coffee table and retrieved a tissue box.

“Here”, you said with a playful grin, handing him the tissues.

Jensen took the tissues, chuckling as he leaned back slightly to make some room. He gently pressed you back, ensuring there was enough space for him to clean himself up and tend to your needs. His touch remained gentle and caring, a stark contrast to the heated passion just moments ago.

As he started to clean himself, you couldn’t help but tease him. “You know, for someone who makes such a mess, you sure are meticulous about cleaning up”, you said, your voice light and playful.

Jensen chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, I can’t have you thinking I’m a complete slob, can I?”, he replied, his tone equally teasing. “Besides, I have to make sure you’re comfortable”.

You grinned. “Such a gentleman”, you said, your voice dripping with mock admiration.

He smirked, gently wiping away the remnants of your lovemaking. “Always”, he said with a wink. As he finished cleaning himself, he turned his attention to you, his touch tender and attentive.

“Now, let’s see about you”, he murmured, gently parting your legs to clean you up. His touch was soft and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable throughout.

You couldn’t help but squirm a little under his attention, feeling both embarrassed and cherished. “Jensen”, you said, your voice a mix of teasing and shyness, “you’re too good at this”.

He looked up at you with a mischievous grin. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet”, he teased, his eyes twinkling. “Just wait until I really get started”.

You laughed, swatting at his arm playfully. “You’re impossible”.

Jensen laughed softly, his eyes alight with affection as he continued to clean you up with gentle care.

He maintained eye contact with you, his expression soft yet filled with a subtle hunger. His fingers traced over your skin delicately, ensuring every trace of his touch was comforting and reassuring.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”, you teased lightly as you watched him work.

His grin widened. “Maybe a little too much”, he admitted.

Just then, his phone rang, interrupting the tender moment between you two. He sighed softly and nodded toward his phone, indicating for you to get it.

“Hey, Jared”, you answered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the intimacy of the moment.

Jared’s voice came through, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Oh no, not again”.

You chuckled, putting Jared on speaker. “It’s fine, Jared. Jensen just… needs to clean up the mess he made”.

Jared grumbled playfully on the other end. “Do I even want to know what mess?”.

Jensen, still working to clean the last remnants of your intimate time together, grinned and glanced up at you, clearly enjoying the teasing. “Probably not, Padalecki”, he called out, his voice filled with humor.

Jared laughed heartily, the sound lightening the mood even further. “Well, as long as you’re multitasking, I guess I’ll allow it”.

Then Jared’s tone shifted to one of mild concern. “Hey, why I called, have you seen my wallet? I think I lost it somewhere”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing on his lips. “How do you manage to lose your wallet every other day?”.

You chuckled, shaking your head at Jared’s usual forgetfulness. “Check the usual spots, Jared”, Jensen continued. “Your car, the couch, your jacket…”.

Jared sighed dramatically on the other end. “I’ve looked everywhere! I’m starting to think it might have grown legs and walked away”.

“Maybe it’s in the green room. You know how you always leave stuff there”.

Jared sighed again, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You’re probably right. I’ll check there first thing tomorrow”.

“Good idea”, Jensen replied, his tone light. “And if it’s not there, we’ll help you search. It can’t have gone far”.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it”, Jared said, sounding relieved. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to… whatever you were doing”.

Jensen smirked, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, thanks, Jared. See you tomorrow”.

“See you both tomorrow”, Jared replied before hanging up.

Jensen set the phone aside and turned his full attention back to you, his hands resuming their gentle, soothing movements. “Sorry about that”, he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate.

You shook your head, smiling. “It’s fine. Jared always knows how to make things interesting”.

Jensen chuckled. “That he does”, He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “Now, where were we?”.

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I believe you were multitasking”.

Jensen grinned, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “Right. Let’s get back to that, shall we?”.

As he resumed his tender ministrations, you felt a deep sense of contentment and connection. Despite the interruptions, the love and intimacy between you remained unshaken.

Jensen finished cleaning you up, only for the two of you to end up making the same delightful mess an hour later. Eventually, way too late into the night, you both lay in bed, completely spent.

You were facing the window, the soft glow of the moon casting a gentle light across the room. Jensen held you tight against his chest, his strong arms wrapped protectively around you. Your back was pressed softly against his torso, the warmth of his body providing a comforting cocoon.

He peppered your naked shoulder with gentle kisses. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine despite the exhaustion that weighed on your limbs.

Jensen mumbled against your shoulder, his voice tinged with exhaustion and amusement. “I’m going to be so tired tomorrow”, he said with a soft chuckle. “I think even my muscles will be sore. My hips are fucking killing me”.

You couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle in response. “Well, that’s what you get for multitasking”, you teased, your voice playful despite your fatigue. “You should have paced yourself, old man”.

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through your back. “I don’t remember you complaining earlier”,

You smirked, feeling a warm rush of affection. “I guess I was too busy enjoying myself”.

Jensen tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “It pretty much seemed like it”, he mumbled, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. His kisses continued, each one sending a shiver of warmth through you.

One of his hands slowly inched down from your hips to your lower stomach, his touch gentle and teasing. “You know”, he murmured between kisses, “I could get used to making you enjoy yourself like that every night”.

You smiled, feeling a mixture of affection and desire. “You might need to start taking vitamins, then”, you teased lightly, your voice a soft whisper.

Jensen chuckled, his hand stilling for a moment as he pressed a firmer kiss to your neck. “Is that so? Well, I suppose I’ll just have to do my best to keep up”.

His hand resumed its journey, tracing delicate patterns across your skin. The sensation was both soothing and electrifying, making you sigh with contentment.

Jensen’s hand continued its teasing journey, brushing over your thighs with featherlight touches before finally slipping between them. The sensation made you groan softly, a mix of pleasure and fatigue evident in your voice. “Jensen, please”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m completely spent”.

Jensen paused for a moment. “Are you sure about that?”, he whispered playfully, his fingers lightly brushing against your sensitive skin. His touch was gentle, but the teasing intent behind it was clear.

You groaned softly again, trying to muster the energy to respond. “Jensen, I swear, I can’t take any more tonight”, you said, your voice both pleading and affectionate.

You hesitated before whispering, “It already hurts… down there. And you said yourself you’re exhausted”.

Jensen sighed softly, acknowledging your words. But as he felt your naked body pressed against him, he couldn’t help but notice his own growing arousal. “How about we try something different then?”, he mumbled, his voice low and filled with suggestion. His hand moved to gently palm your ass, signaling what he meant.

You felt a shiver run through you, a mix of exhaustion and renewed desire. “Jensen…”, you murmured, your voice a blend of uncertainty and curiosity.

His touch was gentle, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your ass. “I promise to be gentle”, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “We’ll take it slow”.

Your heart started to race, and you bit your lip as the anticipation and nervousness built up. “Jay…”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never done this before”.

Since your back was turned toward Jensen, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you could feel it. The fact that this was new territory for you seemed to excite him even more. He groaned softly against your back, his breath warm on your skin.

You heard from your friends that it’s a strange feeling and it hurts, making you even more nervous. “I’ve heard it can hurt”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Jensen’s hands continued to knead your ass gently, his touch both reassuring and arousing. “It can be a strange feeling at first”, he admitted softly, “but it doesn’t have to hurt. I promise to go slow and make sure you’re comfortable”.

You bit your lip, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your stomach. “Are you sure?”, you asked, seeking reassurance.

Jensen pressed another soft kiss to your shoulder. “It’s not my first time”, he murmured, his voice filled with gentle confidence. “I know what I’m doing, and I promise I’ll be gentle. Just trust me”.

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease with his words. “Okay”, you whispered.

Jensen smiled against your skin, his hands continuing their soothing movements. “Good”, he said softly. “Just relax and let me take care of you”.

Jensen’s hands continued their soothing movements.Then, he paused for a moment, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “You have any lube?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper as you mumbled, “In the nightstand”.

Jensen reached over, opening the drawer and retrieving the lube. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, ensuring they were well-coated before returning his attention to you.

“Okay, I’m going to start with this”, he said gently, his voice filled with reassurance. “Just relax and breathe”.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your stomach.

Jensen’s fingers, now slick with lube, moved to your entrance. His touch was gentle and deliberate. He started by gently massaging the area, his fingers working the lube in with slow, circular motions.

“Just relax”, he whispered soothingly. “Breathe in and out”.

You focused on your breathing, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, trying to relax into the sensation. Jensen’s touch was calming, his fingers moving with expertise and care. He began to apply gentle pressure, his fingertip just barely pressing against you, waiting for your body to adjust.

“How does that feel?”, he asked.

“Different… but okay”, you murmured, your voice still trembling slightly.

Jensen nodded, his other hand continuing to caress your back reassuringly. He slowly, carefully, began to push his finger inside, moving at a pace that allowed you to adjust to the new sensation. He paused frequently, making sure you were comfortable before continuing.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Just keep breathing”.

His finger moved deeper, the sensation both strange and intimate. Jensen’s touch remained gentle, his movements slow and deliberate. He added more lube as needed.

“How’s that?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You bit your lip, your voice strained as you admitted, “It kinda hurts”.

Jensen paused immediately, his fingers stilling as he pressed a soothing kiss to your shoulder. “It’s okay”, he murmured, his voice gentle and reassuring. “What you’re feeling is mostly pressure. It might feel like it hurts, but it’s just your body adjusting”.

He resumed his gentle movements, his fingers working more lube in to ensure you were as comfortable as possible. “I promise, I’ll go slow and be careful. If it gets too much, just tell me, and we’ll stop”.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the calming rhythm of Jensen’s touch. The initial discomfort began to ease slightly as you relaxed more into the sensation. “Okay”, you whispered, trusting him completely.

Jensen continued with careful precision, his touch both respectful and loving. He took his time, ensuring that you were comfortable with each new sensation, constantly checking in with you to make sure you were okay.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. “Just keep breathing and relax as much as you can”.

As Jensen’s finger moved with practiced care, the initial tension in your body began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of connection and trust.

“How does it feel now?”, he asked softly.

“It’s getting better”, you whispered, your voice still trembling slightly but now with a mix of anticipation and pleasure.

“Good”, Jensen replied, his tone filled with warmth and reassurance. “Just let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”.

Jensen kept his movements gentle and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable and ready. Slowly, he withdrew his finger, ensuring you were eased into the next step.

“Stay relaxed, just like that”, he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to your shoulder. “I’m going to get ready now”.

You took a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of Jensen’s hands moving away and the cool air against your skin. You could feel him shifting behind you as he reached for the lube again. He squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, making sure his fingers were well-coated.

He began to coat his hard, swollen dick with the lube, ensuring every inch was slick and ready. The sound of him preparing sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Jensen took his time, his movements precise and patient.

“How are you feeling?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“I’m okay”, you whispered back, your voice steady but tinged with anticipation.

Jensen nodded, though you couldn’t see it. You could feel the shift in the bed as he positioned himself behind you, his presence comforting and reassuring. He placed one hand gently on your hips, his touch warm and grounding.

“Just keep breathing”, he reminded you, his voice a soothing murmur. “I’m going to go slow. If you need me to stop at any point, just say so”.

You nodded, taking another deep breath. You felt Jensen’s hand move between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance. The tip of his slick, lubricated dick pressed gently against you, the sensation both strange and exhilarating.

“Here we go”, Jensen whispered, his voice filled with both anticipation and care.

He began to push gently, his movements slow and controlled. The first inch was enough to make you gasp strained, your hands gripping the sheets as you whimpered. Jensen immediately paused, his concern evident in his touch.

“You good?”, he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry.

You took a shaky breath, nodding slightly. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot”, you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jensen pressed a soothing kiss to your shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your hips. “We can stop if it’s too much”, he reminded you, his voice calm and reassuring.

“No, I want to keep going”, you whispered, your voice filled with determination. “Just… go slow”.

Jensen nodded, his hands still gently massaging your hips. “Okay”, he murmured. “We’ll take it nice and slow”.

He inched forward, each movement deliberate and cautious. He groaned softly, the strain evident in his voice as he adjusted to the tightness. The sensation was intense for both of you, your muscles clenching tightly around him.

“Almost there”, he whispered, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You focused on your breathing, trying to relax your muscles and ease the tension. Jensen’s hand remained steady on your hips, guiding and supporting you. Slowly, he continued to push forward until he was fully buried inside you.

The fullness was overwhelming, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as you tried to adjust. Your muscles clenched so hard around him that it was almost painful for both of you. Jensen paused, his hands soothingly caressing your skin.

Jensen kept kissing your shoulder, his lips soft and reassuring against your skin. “You’re doing great”, he whispered between kisses, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity. His hands continued their gentle caresses, moving in slow, comforting patterns.

“You’ve got this”, he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Just breathe. I’m right here with you”.

You took another deep breath, trying to relax your body and ease the tension. Slowly, the tightness in your muscles began to lessen, the initial discomfort giving way to a more manageable sensation. Jensen’s presence, his touch, and his words all worked together to help you feel safe and cared for.

“How does it feel now?”, he asked softly.

“Still intense, but better”, you whispered, your voice steadier.

Jensen nodded. “We’ll go at your pace”, he promised. “There’s no rush”.

Gradually, as you continued to breathe deeply and focus on relaxing, the sensation became more comfortable

“You think you’re ready for me to start moving?”, Jensen asked softly, his voice filled with gentle concern and encouragement.

You nodded slightly, feeling a mix of anticipation and readiness. “Yes”, you whispered, your voice steadier now. “I think I’m ready”.

Jensen pressed one last kiss to your shoulder. “Alright, just let me know if you need me to stop or slow down”, he murmured.

You nodded, bracing yourself for the next sensation. Jensen slowly began to pull out a few inches, the movement causing you to gasp. Little tears formed in the corners of your eyes, which he couldn’t see since his face was pressed into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

The sensation was a mix of pleasure and an intensity that bordered on discomfort, but you focused on Jensen’s steady, reassuring presence. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the new feeling, his hands gently massaging your hips.

“You’re doing great”, he whispered against your neck, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement.

You took another deep breath, trying to relax as Jensen began to move again. He slowly pushed back in, the sensation intense but more familiar now. Each movement was deliberate and controlled, giving you time to adjust and find comfort in the rhythm.

Jensen continued to move in and out slowly, his pace unhurried and careful. He pulled back a few inches and then gently pushed forward, his touch constant and reassuring. With each slow thrust, the initial intensity began to transform into a deeper, more pleasurable sensation.

“Is this okay?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Yes”, you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

As he continued to move slowly within you, the sensation became more comfortable, each thrust bringing a mix of pleasure and connection. Jensen’s touch remained gentle and patient, his focus entirely on ensuring your comfort and enjoyment.

The slow, intimate rhythm allowed you both to fully experience the connection between you, deepening your bond with each movement.

“You feel amazing”, Jensen whispered against your neck, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You moaned softly, the pleasure and intimacy of the moment overwhelming in the best way possible.

His breath was warm against your neck, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through your back.

Each gentle thrust brought a new wave of sensation, the pleasure building gradually and beautifully.

Jensen’s hands roamed your body with care, one hand slipping to your front to gently caress your stomach, providing a steady anchor. His other hand continued to support your hips, guiding your movements and maintaining the connection between you.

“You think you can come like this?”, he murmured against your neck.

You shook your head slightly, the strain evident in your expression. “I don’t think so”, you whispered back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Jensen was already close, his movements becoming slightly more urgent, but he was determined to ensure your pleasure.

“Can you touch yourself?”, he asked with a hint of urgency. But you were too focused on not giving in to the intense pressure, and once again, you shook your head, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Alright”, he murmured, his voice filled with determination. “Let me take care of you”,

With gentle care, Jensen shifted slightly, adjusting his position to reach in front of you. His fingers found your most sensitive spot, and he began to touch you in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The added stimulation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you moaned softly, your hands gripping the sheets for support.

“Good?”, he asked, his voice thick with desire.

“So good”, you gasped, the pleasure building rapidly under his skilled touch.

Jensen’s thrusts became deeper and harder, each one knocking the air out of your lungs. The intensity of his movements left you barely able to breathe, but with his fingers expertly working your clit, you were lost in the overwhelming sensation. If he weren’t touching you there, you might have told him it was too much and that he needed to stop. But the pleasure was consuming, driving you to the brink.

Jensen’s teeth grazed your shoulder lightly, the mix of pain and pleasure making you shiver. His hand moved faster, fingers pressing more insistently against your clit as his thrusts grew even more intense. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear, but in the best possible way.

“Jensen”, you gasped, your voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so close”.

“Me too”, he groaned against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Hold on, baby. Let’s come together”.

His words and the relentless pace of his thrusts pushed you over the edge. The pleasure exploded within you, your body convulsing around him as you came with a force that left you trembling. Jensen’s movements became erratic as he followed you into release, his own climax crashing over him with a guttural moan.

Jensen’s arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rode out his own pleasure. The intensity of the moment left you both breathless, hearts pounding in sync.

After a moment of basking in the afterglow, Jensen carefully began to pull out, his movements slow and deliberate to ensure your comfort. As he withdrew his dick from your ass, you couldn’t help but let out one last whimper, the sensation strange and a bit uncomfortable. You grimaced slightly, the odd feeling lingering for a moment.

Jensen immediately noticed your reaction and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his hands gently rubbing your back in soothing circles. “You did so well”, he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and admiration. “I’m so proud of you”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “That was… intense”, you admitted, your voice still a bit shaky.

Your hand instinctively found its way to your ass, ensuring nothing leaked or was injured. Jensen noticed and chuckled softly, pressing one last kiss to your shoulder before falling back onto his back. His grin was warm and reassuring. “You don’t need to worry”, he said, his voice filled with gentle amusement. “I told you, I know what I’m doing. I didn’t hurt you”.

Your hand still resting against your back. The sensation was strange but not painful, and Jensen’s confidence helped ease your concerns.

Jensen reached over and gently moved your hand away, replacing it with his own. “See? All good”, he murmured, his fingers lightly caressing your skin. “You’re perfect”.

You carefully got up from the bed, feeling the slight soreness from your recent activities. With a small, shy smile, you quickly walked into the bathroom, eager to clean yourself up and ensure everything was really okay.

As you turned on the bathroom light and began to freshen up, you heard Jensen’s voice calling out from the bedroom, “If you need any help, just say so!”.

His tone was filled with a mix of concern and playful reassurance. You chuckled softly, appreciating his attentiveness. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it”, you replied, feeling a little more at ease.

You took your time in the bathroom, making sure to be thorough. The warm water and gentle soap were soothing, helping to wash away any lingering discomfort. After a few moments, you felt much better and more comfortable.

Wrapping a soft towel around yourself, you returned to the bedroom, feeling a sense of calm and relaxation. Jensen was lying back on the bed, his eyes following you as you walked back to him. He smiled warmly, patting the spot next to him.

“All good?”, he asked, his voice soft and filled with genuine care.

“All good”, you confirmed, climbing back into bed and snuggling up next to him.

With a tender kiss to your hair, Jensen held you close as you settled back into bed. The warmth of his embrace and the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear soon lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. Wrapped in each other's arms, the events of the evening melted into a peaceful intimacy.

You felt Jensen's steady breath against your neck as sleep gently washed over both of you.

———————————

A/N: Well, that was a long one. Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 19

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Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666

[pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land]

your works are jaw dropping broOOO. gorgeous. a work of art. you SLAY at writing hcs i love it so much i really hope you can write more <33

demon slayer povs: the hashiras tending to your wounds

this comment really motivated me to write more of this TYSM ANON ily

wc: 1.1k>

Giyu

he’d probably complete the whole procedure silently, as he’s scared you’d waste your energy talking to him

you saw him carefully unwrapping the bandages and painstakingly wrapping it around your arm as you slightly winced at the pain

‘oh-, y/n, you okay? sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,”

you reassured him with a small nod as he gently continued to wrap the bandage, placing a kiss on it once he was done

“thanks hun,” you smiled weakly at him

“get well soon, darling,” he said before he got up to fetch some water

Iguro

just like giyu, he’d do it with silent treatment though you’d hear kaburamaru’s quiet hisses along the way

throughout the bandaging, he momentarily stopped as it reminded himself of the time where he had to bandage his own mouth to hide his traumatic scars

“darling, you okay?” you asked, worried at the sudden slight widening of his eyes

“oh, its nothing,” he shrugged it off, but you sensed that it had something to do with the bandage on his mouth

while he was calmly wrapping the wound on your leg, you leaned down and placed a heartfelt kiss on his forehead

“you're beautiful just the way you are,” you said as he glanced up at you

his eyes crinkled slightly; you knew that put a smile on his face

Mitsuri

she’d probably tend to your wounds the loudest way possible, constantly asking if you were okay

“oh dear, y/n, this looks terrible,” a pouty frown emerged on her face as she cleansed your wounds with cotton pads. “you okay??”

“im fine, honey, don’t worry too much,” you replied with a smile as you admiringly watched her bandage up the injuries on your knee

“alrighty! i hope this makes you feel better, darling. i put some ointment that kocho offered,” she smiled cheerfully, as she gave you a gentle headpat

“thanks ‘suri, youre the best,” you returned her smile with an even happier one from you

Muichiro

would be quiet too but would occasionally check up on you

he’d go like “oh, does this hurt?” or “you feeling okay?”

you were technically the only person he could express his true behavior to

he’d be experienced in this kind of stuff since he had to take care of his mom when she was sick

the thought of his sick mom made him want to protect you even more. he’d already lost his family, he couldn’t afford to lose you too

he’d treat the wound as meticulously as possible to prevent it from worsening

“thank you, mui. you don't know how much i treasure you,” you warmly smiled at him

though he didn’t say anything back, you knew his smile was all you needed to see.

Kyojuro

tbh i feel like he’ll just treat you like how he treated tanjiro when he got stabbed during the mugen train arc

“kyo, it huuurts,” you whined, hoping that he’ll do something instead of keep asking you to control your breathing

“okay okay, i’ll go fetch the med kit. make sure to control your breathing to stop the blood from coming out!” he darted to the other end of the house to get the necessities, his voice still loud as ever

when he got back, he tended to your lacerations as gently as possible, doing all of it with a proud smile on his face

“why the long face, y/n?” he noticed that your usual happy aura had dissipated all of a sudden

“i- i just hate being weak. i hate that you have to get distracted by your missions just to tend to my injuries,” you pouted, biting your lip

“my love, its part & parcel of your journey to make mistakes. as you continue on, you’ll find that these obstacles are nothing compared to what you’re actually facing. so, heads up, and look brightly into your future, okay?” he cheered you on while giving you a soft pat on the shoulder

“thank you, kyo.” you gratefully smiled as you dozed the rest of the evening off

Sanemi

he definitely wasn’t the best at playing it gentle

“ouuuch, nemi, be gentler please,” you winced as he placed a bandaid on your collarbone

“bold of you to say, y/n. somehow you don’t act like this when we’re making out,” he sneered, as he discarded the cotton wools in the trash

you were left speechless as an obvious blush sprawled across your face. only your boyfriend could make you like that, and you loved him for it

“yeah that’s right hun. now be a good toy and rest till i come back,” he taunted, though you swore you heard him mutter “get well soon darling” before he uttered those words

Tengen

he most likely cleans injuries with flamboyance no matter how bad it was

definitely has custom bandages embroidered with random stuff just for you

you saw him putting on gloves and stuff although your wound was really mild

“tengen- babe, there’s no need for all this,” you sighed in embarrassment; your boyfriend would go out of his ways just to treat a mild scratch

“nuh uh, i aint letting you pass with this wound. it could be infected, who knows?” he cocked his eyebrow as he placed a not-so-modest looking bandage on your wound

“aight, i really hope that helps, darling! want me to bring you some munchies?” he chuckled as he packed back up the amenities

“there’s really no need for that, babe. you’ve done more than enough,” you smiled, softly caressing his cheek

obviously he couldn’t care less about your response as he brought you snacks and then cuddled the night away

Shinobu

DEFINITELY would come up with an antidote just to cure your injury

“darling, we need you back on the ground as soon as possible. all your mentees are worried for you, and i can't bear seeing you in a state like this, okay?”

in this case, your injuries were quite bad and she had to put you on an iv drip

after she was done tending to your wounds, she placed a soft kiss on your cheek

“get well soon, honey,” she smiled as she rubbed her thumb on your fingers

“thank you, love. i’ll definitely recover fast thanks to you,” you chuckled weakly, squeezing her hand and never letting go

[icyg4l]

PAC: Is Your Circle Trustworthy?

Hello beautiful people! I am so sorry for the wait, I've been busy with just enjoying what life has to offer. I really hope that you all are doing good! Today's reading is inspired by the people that are/were in my life that I've considered friends. I think that we all go through a period of time where we're questioning the people in our circles. Maybe it's because we're going through a period of transition, experiencing successes, experiencing painful moments, etc. I think that there is nothing wrong with this because we're all human at the end of the day. What aligns with us will stay, what doesn't will go. Also, please check out my Five Dollar Friday sale. It would mean a lot to me! Thank you! So with that being said, please pick the quote that resonates with you, my dear!

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: I think some of you work in an elderly home/nursing home. Maybe you’re working on getting your degree in nursing. I heard the line from Beyonce’s ‘Hold Up’ where she says “Something don’t feel right / ‘Cause it ain’t right”. I don’t think you guys have a good discernment. You don’t trust yourself so in return, you attract some questionable people. I get the feeling that you guys are like the friend that doesn’t know how to say no, so you end up getting taken advantage of. You guys remind me of a friend that I had once. I think that you need to start owning your power, realizing your worth. You can do this by spending more time by yourself. Once you start seeing how people interact with you as you step into your true self, you will see who stays and who will go. There is nothing wrong with a fresh start. You need to get real though. You need to clean house, babe. Nothing is permanent, so don’t force yourself to stick in a situation that you don’t need to be in.

Cards Used: 8 of Swords (RX), The Moon, The Devil, Queen of Discs, Strength, 4 of Swords, The Chariot.

extras: “the underdog”. independent not by choice. meditation. saturn in the 1st house. looking at the moon. empire (2015). solar system. planetarium. “they don’t wanna see me smile”. oh happy day.

Pile Two: I feel like you guys are going to a concert soon. You could have made up with a friend that you fell out with and now you’re wondering if they have good intentions this time. They have changed for the better, I see. It takes two to tango is the energy that I am getting from this. There’s no fingers to point here. You both did your dirt but after some time apart, you’ve come to acknowledge your part in the ending of the friendship. I think that you guys have a good circle around you within this friendship and outside of your friendship. But you guys do not need to befriend your co-workers. Keep that to a minimum. This goes for any classmates that you think are cool too, lol. I see that you’ll be turned off by their behavior very quickly. But you have a good circle overall, just don’t let your ego ruin your friendships. Check yourself before you wreck yourself.

Cards Used: 5 of Swords, 6 of Swords, Ace of Cups, 9 of Cups, Temperance, The Sun.

extras: childhood best friends. autism. “stand back!” thumbs down. 2009. new boyz.

Pile Three: For this pile, I heard “divinely orchestrated”. I think your circle is perfect just the way it is. You are spiritually bonded to the people that are your friends right now. They have pure intentions. This could be your chosen family. You’ve chosen correctly. For some of you, your circle consists of mostly your biological family. Your guides approve of the people around you so much. I think that you will be lifelong friends with these people. I am seeing some distance between you and these people though, physical distance to be exact. Did you move or are you planning to move? I feel like your circle wants you to make the move if you haven’t. They see that you are bored and fed up with your current environment. They will always be there for you. You’re right where you need to be and you have the support around you, just do it!

Cards Used: Temperance, 10 of Pentacles, 7 of Discs, King of Cups, The Hierophant, Ace of Discs.

extras: polaroid cameras. divinity. todrick hall. twitter memes. “fall flat”. chasing fame. smalltown girl.

Pile Four: At one point, your circle was perfect for you. But I think that you have outgrown it. I feel like at the beginning of this friendship, you were insecure. Perhaps, you and these other people bonded over traumas or a common enemy/disdain for something. Maybe you were both impulsive teenagers who hated the world. Now, you don’t want this friendship in your life anymore. You’ve done some soul searching. This person is still on the same shit. Now there is some tension that has risen between the two of you. You want more for yourself, but this person doesn’t. If you don’t cut this person/these people off, they will take you down with them. I feel like this person is immature. They lack the emotional maturity to see how their lack of growth is detrimental to this friendship. They don’t really appreciate it like they should. I feel like this person has ego trips that you’re just now noticing. I heard, “Don’t save her / She don’t wanna be saved”. This person is judgmental and it’s best that you get away from them for your own good. I am channeling the energy of Nancy from The Craft. This person could be doing witchcraft on you if you know they engage in that stuff. Be careful, Pile Four.

Cards Used: Judgment, The Empress (RX), Justice, 2 of Discs, The Moon, The Hierophant (RX), 10 of Discs, The Hermit.

extras: beignets. spiritual/religious awakening. take me to church by hozier. army-bound. powerful.

[justmystyles]

Hi, could you make a fic about something to do with money maybe Harry dating a girl who came from not much and she still isn’t used to the fancy things in life like he is and so when there dating she feels bad ever spending his money.

I’m currently having to sell most of my Harry merch because we can’t afford to fix things in our house and I am very sad over it so I just need some comfort but if you decide not to write this, you’re still one of my favorite writers. Thank you for all the comfort you bring me.

Love Don't Cost A Thing

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: to my anonymous requester, i am so sorry for the hard times you have found yourself in. i wish i had something i could say that would help you through. just know that hard times don't last forever, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and i am hoping and praying that you reach it soon.

also, thank you so much for your kind words. i am so incredibly honored that you consider me one of your favorite writers, that compliment made more than just my day, i think it may have made my whole summer. i hope this blurb is what you are looking for, and provides you the comfort you need right now.

if you ever need someone to talk to, i am here. i may not be able to provide much, but i am happy to be a listening ear (reading eye?) if you need one. 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The waiter drops the check at your table, thanking you for coming in and continues on his way. You reach your hand out to grab it, but Harry beats you to it. Again.

“Harry, you don’t have to–”��

“I know, baby, but I want to. I love spoiling my girl.” He reaches his free hand across the table, squeezing yours gently. 

Ever since you and Harry started going out, you hadn’t paid for a thing. Not only that, but the things he’s been paying for have been extravagant and way outside of your comfort zone. The gifts, the meals, the flowers, the flights. He has taken you around the world and back, and has refused to let you pay for any of it.

Holidays and birthdays had been hard too. Harry always gave you multiple extravagant gifts, you could never even come close to matching it. He told you he didn’t care, that your gifts were always so meaningful, and that’s what was important. You knew he meant it, that he didn’t need you to buy him fancy things. He was more than capable of doing it himself. But it didn’t matter to you, you felt an imbalance in the relationship that was only growing with time. And you were sure that the gossip blogs and fans noticed it, talking about how you were just with him for his money. It wasn’t true, you and Harry knew that and it should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 

You didn’t grow up poor, you were grateful for what you had and knew that there were others that were worse off than you. But you didn’t even have half of what you were experiencing now. Your parents raised you to be practical with your money, to save and not to spend frivolously. You always had what you needed, but weren’t always able to have what you wanted. 

Now that you were with Harry, even if you just made an offhand comment about a cute piece of jewelry or clothing, all of the sudden it was yours. You love Harry, and you know he was doing it because he loves you too, but it still didn’t sit right with you. 

Later that night, you were laying in bed together. Harry was talking to you about his schedule for the upcoming month.

“So I was thinking you could come meet me in Paris. We could go to that little cafe we love, do a little shopping.” He suggested with a smile, loving the idea of walking through the most romantic city in the world with the love of his life. 

“Sure,” you agreed. “I could probably swing the money for a round trip ticket.” 

“You’re not swinging anything,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

“Harry, I can afford a flight.” You’re not sure you really can. You’ll probably eat canned goods and boxed mac and cheese for a month, but it’s better than the guilt you feel every time Harry opens his wallet for you. 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m asking you to come spend time with me, it should be my treat.” 

“Yeah, but everything is always your treat, Harry.” You say with a slight bite in your tone. 

Harry looks at you confused, and a little bit hurt. “Angel, are you alright?” 

“No Harry, I don’t think I am,” you confess. “I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel okay.” Harry stays silent, allowing you to say what you need too. “I love you so much, and you have the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. I just, it’s just too much. The meals, the gifts. You don’t let me pay for anything, I feel like… I don’t know. I know you don’t see a problem with it, but I do. It just makes me feel… uncomfortable. I’m basically living off of your money, and I don't feel right about it.”

“Baby,” he said as he let out a breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.” He brought his hand up, brushing your cheek gently. 

���I know you didn’t. And it’s a me problem, I know that too.” 

Harry shakes his head sharply. “No it’s not, it’s an us problem. You’re my girl, we’re in this together.” You look down, overwhelmed by how tender he was being with you despite the way you unloaded on him. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, it sounds kind of crazy when you think about it.”

“How?” He asked.

“Because, there are girls that would kill to be in my position, who would love to be spoiled and given all these extravagant gifts, and here I am complaining about it. I sound so ungrateful.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Harry holds your face in his hands. “You do not sound ungrateful.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, I love you so much and I give you all of these things because you deserve the world.”

“I love you too, but I don’t need all these things, the fancy dinners, the clothes, I just need you.”

He smiles softly at you, the adoration clear in his gaze. “I know angel, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your heart is so pure and good. I am so incredibly lucky that you have given it to me to hold, and I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, especially not because of my actions.” 

“I know, and that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you, I knew you’d feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad about doing nice things for me.” 

“Tell me what I can do, how I can make you feel better.” He asked, willing to do anything to make you happy. 

You take a deep breath as you try to articulate your needs. “When I offer to pay for things, let me.”

Harry nods in agreement, pulling your face to his and kissing you softly. “Anything you want, love.” 

“And just because I say something is cute, doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me.” You add. 

“Got it,” he kisses you again. “But I can still spoil you sometimes, right?” 

“Sometimes,” you say in a subtle warning tone. “Just not all the time.”

Harry smiles, his brow arching mischievously. “How about I spoil you right now, and it won’t cost a cent.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the implication of his words. “Sure, I guess I’d be okay with that.” 

[lume-nosity]

if they get isekai’d to our world

characters: tighnari, nilou, yun jin, eula, aether, lumine, heizou, kazuha, xiao

genre: fluff

an: this is completely self indulgent and i may make a part 2 of this when i’m feeling up for it. take this post before i vanish again for the week. i’ll see you all again on the weekends <3

notes: not proofread, gender neutral reader, swearing, written in hc form so it’s short/weird, reverse isekai trope, written in one day

reblogs are appreciated!

trusting tighnari with your plants.

he’s experienced in the botanical area, so have him tend to them. it’ll also give him an opportunity to study/observe said plant(s), so just have him watch your plants when you don’t have the time. he’ll be very happy.

but if he finds out that you haven’t been caring for them before the isekai fiasco, he will scold you. and then give you a lecture on why and how you should care for them.

if you have like a book on plants/biology/anything plant related, he’ll be thrilled to read such a book from you. he will spend sleepless nights reading it, and you have to remind him to take it easy.

nilou, yun jin, and eula playing just dance.

nilou’s having a great time, ended up getting high scores while eula is flustered but she still maintains her graceful stature when dancing.

eula didn’t want to play at first because she’s suspicious of the game, but she was dragged into playing so she didn’t have any other choice. she ended up liking it but of course she doesn’t admit it. and yun jin is just glad she gets to be a part of it.

all of you are dancing the night away frfr

having venti listen to your playlists.

as it’s known, he knows every song in existence. but listening to your playlists, he’s surprised he’s never heard of such a tune before. because, you know, he’s not from your world.

but even so, it reels him in wanting more. so he begs you to borrow your phone to listen to your playlists, especially new ones you just made.

when you left your phone somewhere unattended and venti came across it, he looked both sides before snagging your phone off of its place to listen to your playlists in secret. ehe.

aether & lumine being your errand buddies.

if you’re planning to go out to run an errand like buying groceries or something, these two are the first ones to volunteer to help. i know they do everything in teyvat; doing shit for everyone and all that but this is different. when they got isekai’d, they’re reunited! (i’m going to ignore the abyss sibling bullshit okay let me write in peace i want these two to be happy)

so they’re returning the favor by assisting you in anything! even in your house, they still help you with chores and whatnot! which made you worry for them, so you’ve decided to arrange a time where you all could sit and chat. they talked about their journeys to other worlds, and you could listen to them talk for hours.

introducing heizou to true crime documentaries.

ohhhhh boy you know he will binge the SHIT out of them. now that he doesn’t have to deal with missing pets, he has something interesting to indulge himself in.

he ends up figuring out who’s the culprit before the show could even reveal who. which shocks you, if you’re the type to take a long time trying to connect the dots.

if you show him some unsolved cases, you know damn well he’ll look/watch into it. you have a smart detective on your hands, and if he ends up solving them as well, you must be writhing in pride that you and heizou are the only ones who know the truth.

kazuha asking you to go out on a stroll from time to time.

one time when he accompanies you and your errand buddies because he wants to see what your world looks like in addition to lending another hand, he wants to see that again. the wind, the sky, the view, all of that. it’s all unique to him.

so, expect him to ask you if you’d like to go out on a little stroll for a while. it’s an excuse for him to feel what your world would be like, to digest its features and compliment it all in a poetic sense.

most likely points out the colors of the leaves you guys walk by. he’s just blabbering about nature while you’re out here digesting his words and your mind turns into an actual tree from listening.

teaching xiao everything you know about your world.

yes, this seems bland, but listen. xiao is oblivious to how teyvat works in terms of tradition/humans, and now that he’s isekai’d to your world, you have to teach this poor innocent individual.

he needs information in order to adapt to this new world he’s not familiar with, knowing there’s not really a way out.

xiao is listening intently and nodding to everything you say, asking questions at the same time.

this isn’t part of the headcanon, but he’s also cautious when you say you’re going to go out at night especially when aether & lumine are busy with other matters. if that were to happen he will be the one to step in. no danger will befall you when you have a yaksha by your side.

[drunkwhenimadethis]

I was confessing my absurd fears to my bf with things along the lines of being betrayed or him finding other women sexually attractive and asked if he had any similar fears. He said he did, and it was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger. I have always refused monetary gifts and him paying for things. However I’ve been staying with him for three months after he got me kicked out of my last rooming house because Im in college and couldn’t find a place quick enough, and was extremely adamant about it but he insisted. We’ve been together for almost a year. He said that the thought of me using him for money is recurring, but he’s unemployed and his parents pay for everything besides his groceries. What do I make of this? It’s really offput me that he thinks of me this way

Disclaimer I love to remember that the English “advice” comes from the Latin “videre” to see so if I give you this advice it is not a prescription, it is only my way of looking at things in this moment

I think one thing I would like to point out is that you wrote: “It was that I was only with him for his money. Essentially: I am a gold digger.” There are a million ways of interpreting a single statement made by someone that we care about, and since so much of life creation begins with storytelling in the mind, you want to be quite meticulous about the interpretations that you align with and carry forward. I don’t think that “Essentially: I am a gold digger” makes the most sense logically nor in terms of experiencing what you want, which I assume is love, commitment, trust, and closeness

Why essentially are you a gold digger? Did he say that or did he say that he has an absurd fear that you might be with him for reasons other than who he himself is? “Money” —the word—and its associations make us react emotionally and indignantly “How dare you!!!!” but he said the same thing that you said, he shared the fear he has that maybe he alone is not enough for you

When you shared that you’re fearful of him being attracted to other women, did he say that essentially you are calling him a dishonest whore with no dick discipline? Would that make sense to you if he reacted that way or would you feel like hmm, this man is really making my fears about himself?

Your fears are yours and yours alone

I am guilty of wanting the perfect words or actions to assuage me but it never works out that way. You need to go into yourself and pour love on your fears and kill them

He can tell you everything you want to hear and then what happens when he’s out of sight?

What happens if he has to leave the country? What happens if you can’t have eyes on him?

Are we doomed to constantly revert back to fear?

See yourself as the only one 

Don’t entertain competition in your mind

Don’t dwell on these fears. Your subconscious can’t reason with you

Remove the negative imaginary conversations—not only are they a waste of time, they are by nature of reality active forces 

Be happy for him that his family takes care of him, not everyone gets that and it’s good

Imagine he will take care of you like his family taught him to. Imagine sturdiness and dependability. Imagine better than what you know

Wish him the best on his job search, remove safety-seeking in the form of judgment

You are deserving and you’re allowed to accept gifts from your boyfriend. Work on this asap, I think there's something in you that just doesn't feel worth it and you can't outrun that and nobody can appease that for long

And don't tell yourself that he got you kicked out of your last rooming house, even if it seems true. If you can choose any belief and create life with it, since you’re creating even when you’re not consciously aware that you’re doing so, why don’t you choose something that serves you both more? Why not tell yourself that the universe is conspiring to bring you closer to each other?

Loving and fearless! Avanti!

“The beautiful idea you awaken in yourself shall not fail to arouse its affinity in others.”

[blommp717]

How do I stop worrying once I set the intention that I am experiencing something else? Doubts are constant and I can’t seem to stop them. I’m just worried I won’t get it

So what I need you first to realize is that, you aren’t setting an intention, and certainly not setting an intention to experience something “later on”. The realization of ANYTHING quite literally is the experience. I need you to recognize that nothing inherently has any meaning. When you strip labels from feelings and emotions they just remain as “sensations”. Try saying what a bad or good feeling is without describing it as a good or bad. It just is a sensation right? Right, so please start viewing it as what it really is. I truly understand how debilitating it can feel, however, if you truly wish to see past the hollow, weak illusions, you must start viewing everything as it TRULY is, not as it seems from the surface level.

There is no getting, desiring, wanting, these are labels made by this illusionary self who strives and relishes in goal, in journey, in doing. Without all these things the sense of self really has no purpose, look further into this. Who desires, who wants, who needs? Certainly not god, certainly not the true “ “ that is.

I’m not just telling you guys another technique or manifesting method, guys this is in reality what we are. The existence of all that is and appears to be is what we are. Your God, your “ “, your everything, how can you possibly crave when you are it.

Falsely identifying as the self and as the person, there will always be journey, there will always be an end goal, that never seems to be reached. When you experience that thing what happens? Another desire, need, journey appears, because as the self, nothing will actually be enough. (Trust me I know). Self exists for the illusionary experience. It’s literally the only purpose of it. Now I’m not in any way telling you to sit in misery and not be happy and live a dream life, but I want you to understand, it’s always going to seem like a never ending cycle of desiring if the only appearance you hold as real is self. Instead of the infinity you exist as.

This infinity you are tricks itself into being a limited self, a separate self. Recognize yourself again. You as it all is instant “manifestation”

Recognition of an experience is the experience, there’s nothing to chase

I’m telling you, your all of existence and appear as the experience, how can you possibly lack anything? There is no you that lacks, YOUR EVERYTHING. $500k? Alright it’s your, congratulations you just received it. Wondering where it is? Don’t you remember it’s you, you have it it’s yours! Relish! Be excited! Be Sad! Do whateveeeerrrr u want!

You are free to feel as you want because a sensation does not change the identity of god!

Just remember that the sensation (feeling) doesn’t dictate anything. Anyways I rambled for a while, take care!! 🥥🌴☀️🫶

[lovebugism]

i need more of “the customer is always right” before i wither away and die <3 the anticipation of IT happening is quite literally killing me ilysm

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | b-minus

summary: eddie munson takes the unconquerable english midterm that's forced him to repeat senior year two times. dustin henderson gets a pep talk. uncle wayne gives his nephew a warning. you cook your eddie spaghetti some spaghetti. (17k)

pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader

tags: idiots in love, experienced!reader, domestic bliss, staying the night, eddie munson tries to get used to being loved TW probable typos, swearing, discussions of being poor, talks of insecurities, kissing, heavy petting, oral sex (m!receiving) 18+ only!!

a/n: hi. hello. me again. you probably don't remember me because it's been almost TWO MONTHS. i'm really sorry about that btw this semester of college was sent from the actual depths of hell. please take this sixth installment of tcar and find it in your heart to forgive me <3 ily all xoxo

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

“Okay, this is officially the last time I let you drive me anywhere,” Eddie gripes from the passenger seat of your too tiny car as one excruciatingly happy ABBA song bleeds into another.

He shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re made of the same stuff you listen to — sunshine and melted ice cream and summer breezes. You match the blue skies above you as you belt the lyrics to the song you seem to know by heart.

The sight makes Eddie grin to himself, still beaming no matter how hard he rolls his eyes.

This was the only good thing about the breaks of his van going haywire and having to bum a ride to school from you — getting to see more of you in your element. 

As much as he loved having you in his passenger seat, bobbing your head to whatever rock song he’d popped into the cassette player, there was something entirely different about seeing you in the driver’s seat.

This car was your safe space, spotted with stickers on the console and polaroids on the speedometer, where you could sing any damn ABBA song you wanted to because it was your own little bubble where nothing could touch you. 

Eddie’s grateful you let him see it, all these parts of you that you reveal slowly to him like so many tiny rays of sunshine.

It’s even better to witness with a full stomach, which was maybe the second good thing about driving with you. You picked him up with time to spare to get breakfast — to take the long route to school and watch the rising sun sparkle over Lover’s Lake. There was no reason to speed through town like a maniac because he wasn’t in a rush. Today might be the first time all year he’s not five minutes late to first period.

He tells you to sing louder when you get all shy and hyperaware of his gaze, feeding you bits of your breakfast — but only on the instrumental parts so you don’t miss your favorites. The boy props his arm on the center console and folds down the wrapper of your greasy, plain biscuit with his thumb so it doesn’t get in the way of your bite. He doesn’t even complain when you try to sing through the mouthful. 

He figures that this is what love is. A part of it, at least. That stupid, philosophical feeling people have been trying to describe for ages is sitting right beside him — with crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth as she mixes up the words to the Dancing Queen chorus.

Love isn’t butterflies or tight chests — it’s this. It’s letting a person listen to music you hate because you know they love it and not caring that they’re singing horrifically off-key.

And it’s not like Eddie’s in love with you or anything. He’s just got a lot of adoration for you. It’s the kind of innocent affection that makes him love ABBA and think you’re one of the best damn singers he’s ever heard in his life — even though neither would be particularly true if he didn’t care about you so much.

It’s sort of like the love he’s got for Dustin, to still care about the little shrimp even when he’s annoying him to no end. But, at the same time, it’s not like that at all. Because Dustin Henderson isn’t the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Dustin Henderson doesn’t make him feel like his heart is being trampled by an entire stampede of zoo animals. 

No one quite makes Eddie feel the way you do. But even if he was in love with you, he’s got no way of knowing the difference — between loving and being in love. The only thing he’s really sure of is that he doesn’t know a damn thing. And that the sick feeling in his stomach he gets every time he looks at you can’t possibly be normal.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” you retort. Your words come slurred and slightly muffled through the bite of biscuit in your cheek. “I know you secretly like it.”

“Of course I do!” he shouts over the catchy bass guitar and your subsequent laughter. “It’s just not the kinda shit I wanna listen to right before I take the biggest test of my life.”

It’s true. The past two times he’s been forced to take Ms. O’Donnell’s impossible midterm exam, he's listened to the exact same song — ‘Ride the Lightning,’ Metallica. It’s the only song that gives him enough of an adrenaline rush to gather the confidence to fail the same test. Twice. 

Eddie Munson is a creature of habit. Today marks the third anniversary of the dreaded day that makes or breaks his high school career, but instead of spending it with Metallica, he’s spending it with you. He wants to believe you’re a good luck charm or some kind of lucky omen, but he’s terrified of getting his hopes up.

Expect the worst, and you’ll never be disappointed. That’s what Uncle Wayne always said.

“I think ‘When I Kissed the Teacher’ has plenty of useful advice, Eddie Spaghetti.”

The boy turns to you with a bemused wide-eyed gaze. “If you’re suggesting I makeout with Ms. O’Donnell to pass her class, I’m gonna hurl— like actually hurl. And I will deliberately do it all over the floor of your car.”

“Would you rather repeat your senior year? Again?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat and with a very enthusiastic nod that makes his wild curls sway around his face. “I would rather be a senior for the rest of my life than kiss Ms. O’Donnell.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you won’t have to, right? Because you’re totally gonna ace this thing.”

This is what you’ve been doing for over a week now — twisting everything negative into something more overtly positive. You meet Eddie’s pessimism and self-doubt with a sort of hopefulness he lost somewhere between the first and second time he got held back. 

You force him to study in the gentlest way possible because you’re never anything but soft with him. You make him pretty little flashcards and flip through them with him on the opposite side of his bed, obviously more enthusiastic about the whole thing than he is. You give him sympathetic pecks on his cheek when he gets a question wrong and kiss him totally breathless when he gets the odd one right.

Eddie would be lying if he said the incentive didn’t help at least a little bit.

There is no hint of impatience or sign of hubris that makes him feel stupid. You just teach him to be kinder to himself with tiny little reminders that you’re doing all this right along with him.

“Considering I’ve failed it twice already, I highly doubt that, sweetheart,” he counters, and he’s kidding — mostly. He says it with a teasing lilt and a twinkle in his squinted eyes, but you know that’s his way of covering up that he’s totally serious. 

He really doesn’t think he can do it, pass this stupid exam. He’s got absolutely no faith in himself — but that’s okay, because you’ve got all the faith in him in the world.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have me to help you study,” you argue, just before accepting the last piece of biscuit he plucks from the parchment and offers to you.

You speak through the mouthful. “But now you do! And we’ve been going over this all week and—” You cut yourself off to swallow the dry pastry. “—And you totally got this. You’re gonna blow ‘em outta the park, Eddie Spaghetti. I can feel it.”

Your optimism makes him smile even though he doesn’t really feel like smiling. He lolls his head against the seat to look at you, finds you with a pretty grin and tiny biscuit crumbs on the corners of your mouth, and has the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you.

It comes out of nowhere. It bubbles up all at once like vomit and startles him with its unexpectedness. The sudden and unfamiliar feeling makes him feel sick, like he just went upside down on a rollercoaster. Whoever said love felt like butterflies was a liar because it feels a whole lot more like getting punched in the stomach.

The words rise from his throat like bile and linger on the edge of his tongue. Eddie forces himself to swallow them back down again. The unsaid ‘Holy fuck, I love the shit outta you’ tastes far more bitter going down.

“What do I get if I ace it then, huh?” he wonders after an awkward blink of silence.

“Uh, I don’t know,” you shrug. “Your diploma.”

“I meant as a reward, dummy.”

“I feel like graduating high school is enough of a reward.”

“I just think I should be compensated for a job well done, is all,” he proposes with a lopsided grin. The teasing nature of his words drips from his mouth like honey.

You glance at him once, eyes wide and dumbfounded, then back to the road. “Eddie Munson…” you scold in a lighthearted lilt. “Get your head outta the gutter. It’s not even eight o’clock.”

That sort of thing wouldn’t have bothered you before. Any other time, you would’ve been all too happy to pull over and jerk him off in a barren parking lot, relieve all his pent-up stress about the exam in the form of a quick handjob. But you’ve been quite obviously keeping your hands to yourself since he told you he was a virgin. 

You were serious about what you said before, about starting over, and Eddie learned that very quickly. You take to giving him tiny little pecks on the cheek and holding his sweaty hand in yours and hardly anything else — like you’re a couple of kids going steady.

Eddie likes it, though, the comforting nature of your unhurried disposition. He just hates the ache it leaves him with.

“It’s all I’m gonna be thinking about,” he confesses with a scrunched nose. “Just so ya know.”

“As long as it helps you pass,” you respond with the shake of your head.

“As long as it helps me pass…” Eddie echoes, quieter. 

“Just think about the biggest kiss I’m gonna give you when I see you again,” you tell him, flashing him a beam as you slow at a stop sign. You trap your smile between your teeth and flash him a glance that can only be described as whimsical — full of shy smiles and fluttering lashes and sparkling eyes. “‘Cause I’m gonna kiss you absolutely stupid, Eddie Munson.”

A rose-colored hue sprinkles along the apples of his cheeks. He never thought a threat could sound so appealing.

“Cool…” is the only thing he could think to mutter in the moment, too busy trying not to smile too wide. He turns his glowing cheeks towards his lap and purses his smile towards his fiddling fingers. “But, uh, I have Hellfire after school, so… Maybe tomorrow?”

You meet his disappointed glance with a shrug. “You could come over after if you want?”

He wants to. He always wants to.

“It’ll probably be late.”

“Then just stay over.”

Your offer comes effortlessly but strikes a deep feeling of complexity within him. Eddie doesn’t know why it makes him so suddenly nervous, only that it makes his palms sweat almost instantly.

The two of you haven’t crossed that threshold yet — of sharing a bed to sleep. He’d catch you dozing on occasion, slouched against his headboard with your head on his shoulder, and he’d wake you. Not because it made him uncomfortable, but because he didn’t want your neck to ache. 

You’d rouse with a groggy apology — “I should probably leave before Bowie starves to death and I drool all over your shoulder,” you’d tell him. 

And it’s not like Eddie wanted you to leave, but he was more than happy to sleep alone. What if he snores obnoxiously loud or he does something gross in his sleep? If you got instantly turned off by some sleeping habit he didn’t even know he had, he thinks it might destroy him.

Eddie can’t control the front he puts up around everyone when he’s sleeping. And for a boy who’s still trying to impress a pretty girl, that’s a very frightening thought.

“Uh, okay… Are you— Are you sure?” he stammers.

His apprehension confuses you. The offer hadn’t felt like that big of a deal to you. “I mean… yeah? We practically did it over the phone last week. It’ll be just like that — but, you know, in person.”

“Right… Okay.”

“I can make us dinner, and we can watch a movie or something,” you propose and grin at the daydream of it all. You wouldn’t have to miss Eddie if he was beside you all night. You wouldn’t have to drift off to thoughts of him either, because he’d be right there. “Bowie would be stoked if you stayed over. She’s practically obsessed with you.”

The thought makes Eddie smile to himself. His heart swells at the idea that other parts of your life have already started to accept him. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy in his leather jacket and ripped jeans and chunky metal rings.

“Her mom is too, right?” he asks you, mostly playful. He smirks all smug, but his cinnamon-tinted gaze gleams with sincerity.

“Oh, obviously,” you scoff without a second thought. “Have you seen her? She can’t get enough of you…” Your teasing lilt and soft smile fades as you squint at him. “Don’t tell her I told you that, though.”

Eddie pinches his thumb and forefinger together, zipping them across his lips, then rolling down the window to toss the imaginary lock out of it. 

Wind whips through the small car with vigor, making a wild halo of Eddie’s already less-than-tamed hair. The intrusion forces you to squint, even more so when you laugh. 

The sound of your giggling is like glitter or sunbeams. It’s as bright as yellow and soft like summer rain. It makes him smile, too, because that’s all he wanted to do in the first place — make you laugh. It’s all he ever wants to do.

Eddie cranks the lever to roll the window back up again as you tell him: “And, you know, if you stayed over, then I could give you that reward we were talking about.” 

You’ve successfully stooped to his level now: head stuck in the very depths of the gutter. Most of your thoughts are innocent, cooking for him and holding him while you slept. Others, not so much.

“And that would be…” he trails off with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you squint at him as you turn the steering wheel to pull into the bustling parking lot of Hawkins High. 

The place is as wretched as it always was. It hasn’t changed a bit, just sort of deteriorated with time. The nameplate on top of the building has started to grey and the tiger mural painted on the bricks is fading, but it’s still the same. The familiarity of it all hits you with an ice-cold pang of nostalgia.

“I would,” Eddie nods a very vigorous nod, all innocent and wide-eyed, as you park on the far side of the lot. “I would very much like to know.”

You lean across the console to press a swift kiss to his cheek. “You’ll find out later,” you assure him, lingering just ahead of his face. Closer by an inch or two and the tips of your noses would nudge against one another.

“Have mercy…” Eddie murmurs to himself, eyes and limbs suddenly heavy under the weight of his desire for you. 

You made him promise he’d stay sober for the exam — no drinking the night before, no smoking while he got ready. Before now, he’d been perfectly clearheaded. Then you go and look at him with that look, and he’s instantly drunk on you.

He tries to close the distance between you but succeeds only in brushing your noses together before a loud honk blares from ahead of you. It sends the two of you jerking away from each other almost instantly, heads whipping toward the direction of the too loud beep. 

It comes from Steve Harrington’s maroon Beemer that he’d parked just ahead of your Volvo. Him and his friends file out one by one — Robin from the passenger, Dustin Henderson from the back, and then Steve from the driver’s side. 

The former two are beaming, far too happy for it to be so early. Steve looks more like a victim to the morning as he leans against his open car door. His smile looks like a wince and he props his wrist on the door, throwing his fingers up in the place of an actual wave. Dustin and Robin are far more enthusiastic with their gestures.

You and Eddie wave a tad bit awkwardly back at them.

“Look at him,” the boy says, trying and failing to hold back his laughter. “King Steve. Carpooling his kids like a real mom.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s a babysitter first and a human being second,” you joke, then more seriously tell him: “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to, you know?”

“I know,” he nods. “But I want to.”

“Okay… I just— I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to, you know, force you or something—”

“It didn’t.”

“—I was just saying it could be nice, you know? But I feel like it sounded like I was being a little pushy.”

“You weren’t.”

“And I don’t want you to be, like, scared to say no to me or something, you know? It wouldn’t hurt my feelings or anything, okay? I promise,” you ramble, partly lying because you know it would hurt a little, but you’d never tell him that. “The ball is totally in your court, so… Whatever you want to do, it’s completely—”

Your nervous blathering is brought to an unexpected halt when Eddie brings his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks in his palms, brushing his thumbs along the apples of them. The sleeves of his leather jacket tickle your chin. He sprayed his wrist with cologne this morning, you can tell; the musky cedarwood and tobacco are more prominent now. 

The boy laughs softly when the suddenness of his action makes your eyes go wide, chuckling louder when he squeezes your cheeks and makes your lips pout softly.

“I wanna come over, okay?” Eddie assures through his laughter. “And you’re never annoying me when you ask. I promise. I’ll probably say yes to just about anything when it’s coming from you, sweetheart.”

“And you’re not just saying that?” you press, words slightly muffled with the way Eddie’s holding your face.

“I’m not just saying that,” he echoes more confidently. He shakes his head at you, then moves your jaw back and forth with his palms so he’s shaking yours too. You jerk away from him with a grin. 

“I’ll see you later?” he asks you while he collects his things from the floor, which is just the little tin box he carries everywhere. He swears it has everything he needs in it. You assume it’s just a dull pencil and a couple of baggies of weed he plans to sell between lunch shifts.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile.

He clicks the handle to open the car door, then kicks it open the rest of the way. He rolls his head back and puckers his lips for a kiss. You happily oblige him, meeting him halfway but turning at the last second so his mouth meets your cheek.

“Kids are watching,” you joke at his surprise.

And even though he’d only pecked your jaw, it makes Robin and Steve roll their eyes. “Gag me with a spoon,” the girl gripes as she walks past the hood of your car.

Dustin follows behind her, too preoccupied to care. He’s got an anticipatory grin on his face that reveals the blue and green braces on his teeth. The composition notebook in his hands has the Hellfire logo drawn in red and yellow sharpie on the front of it.

You’ve never met the kid, but he’s exactly how you’d expected him to be.

You heard a lot about him — from Steve mostly, but from Eddie too. Robin has the occasional story about the boy from whenever he visits Family Video. They all call him little shit most of the time, shrimp on occasion, and Dusty Bun when he’s done something particularly sweet.

It’s all from a lighthearted place, though. You figure it must be because Steve Harrington is waking up at seven in the morning to take some fourteen-year-old to school. And Eddie’s even worse — the second Dustin calls asking for a ride, he’s hopping in his van without a second thought.

The boy barely lets Eddie get out of the car before he starts bombarding him with questions about the latest D&D campaign. He prattles on and on about it while they walk towards the school, pointing adamantly at the notebook in his hands. You imagine it’s full of conspiracies and potential ways to beat the Cult of Vecna. 

He’s so invested he doesn’t even care when Robin slips the cap from his hand and flips it backwards.

“Have the best day ever, kiddos!” you shout through your rolled-down car window.

You get a half-hearted wave from Dustin, but he doesn’t even glance at you when he does it. Eddie blows a dramatic kiss your way, but Robin rivals his sweetness with a middle finger and a rouge-tinted smile.

The bell chimes overhead, high-pitched and too familiar. The parking lot empties slowly, and the mindless muddled chatter fades too.

Steve saunters to your car after everyone else heads inside. He folds his arms along the passenger door as he leans down to look at you. 

His hair is un-styled, but in a cool sort of way that only he can pull off. Chestnut strands fall down over his forehead while others are pushed back from where he’s ran his fingers through them. His jaw is dusted with a fine layer of stubble that sprinkles a shadow of a mustache on his cupid’s bow.

You’re both wearing the elements of your uniforms.

He’s got on a pair of faded jeans and the mandatory collared shirt, even though he swears Keith only makes him abide by the dress code. You’re wearing the all black get-up required of all Enzo’s waitresses. The flowy blouse and a-line skirt are now wrinkled from the drive over. You’re only missing your floral apron and Steve his forest green vest.

“How long until your shift starts?” he asks you, voice deep and gruff with the morning.

Your eyes flit down to the flashing clock on your dashboard, then back up to him. “I don’t have to go in until eleven today, but I was gonna see if I could pick up an extra shift.”

He nods and juts out his lips as he turns to squint down the parking lot. He looks back at you with a more hopeful gaze. “Wanna go fuck around at Family Video instead?”

And, of course, by “fuck around,” he means popping popcorn and playing some terrible, terrible slasher film on the television behind the counter that has more boobs and blood than actual plot.

You’ll stop for junk food on the way like you always do and spend the bulk of the movie tossing gummy bears and M&Ms into Steve’s mouth. You’ll waste hours talking about nothing, but it’ll feel like only minutes have gone by when it’s time for your shift.

“Are you kidding?” you scoff like it’s not the best idea you’ve heard all morning. Or maybe second best because Eddie’s proposal of a reward is still swirling around in the confines of your mind. “Of course I do.”

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

By sunset, Eddie Munson’s got a B-minus on his midterm, a crowd of kids singing his praises, and a date with the hottest woman on the planet. Life, as it turns out, was really starting to look up for the local freak.

“Best… campaign… ever!” Dustin shouts. He’s still so boyishly excited about the whole thing that he has to take in deep breaths before he says each word. 

The emphatic exclamation echoes through the dim, empty hallway of Hawkins High. The rest of the school had left some time ago; all that’s left now are the scraps — the basketball douchebags, the theater geeks, the D&D nerds.

The Hellfire Club gets the entire west wing to themselves, and the unusual vacancy allows them to saunter down the corridor’s length like they own the damn place. 

They don’t have to look over their shoulders for assholes that might trip them or stuff them into lockers. Still bubbling with the after-effects of such an utterly sadistic campaign, they feel like they’re on top of their own little world.

Eddie Munson hasn’t felt this good in a long, long time.

He spins on the heel of his worn-out sneaker and walks backwards ahead of his friends so he can examine each of their faces. He’d unleashed the whole Vecna lives twist that he’d been keeping in his metaphorical back pocket for some time now.

You were the one that gave him the idea, sprung it out of nowhere during a smoke session so many months ago. It feels like it’s been forever now. That was back when you were just his customer, and he was just your dealer — when all you needed was a little free weed, and Eddie just needed to pass a test.

You both somehow ended up with far more than either of you bargained for, but he’s not complaining. He hopes you aren’t either.

Dustin had sort of predicted Vecna’s resurgence. He’d scribbled it down in his journal with all the rest of his endless conspiracies. Well, actually, he suspected that Kas was still a villain and hadn’t slain Vecna like they thought — which wasn’t exactly right, but it was still pretty damn close. Eddie’s never met someone who cared so much about one of his campaigns.

So, needless to say, the curly-haired boy is beaming. His green-blue braces and pearly whites are on full display, partially from excitement but mostly because he was sort of right — in a vague, roundabout way.

Mike had been enthusiastic about it too, but that was before he had to suffer through his best friend’s endless boasts. His brown eyes roll damn near to the back of his skull as he huffs, angled jaw clenching from gritted teeth.

“Well, when you spend eight hours coming up with, like, a thousand different theories, one of them is gonna be right,” he’d finally groused. 

Dustin only smiled at the lankier boy, totally unfazed by his grumbling. “It’s not my fault you have exactly zero work ethic. You’re just mad you lost.”

“Yeah, because staying up all night writing in your diary makes you a real winner.”

“For the last time, Mike, it’s not a diary!”

Lucas was too far away to join in on the bickering. The boy had been distant for a while now, actually. Eddie joked that he must’ve been upset about missing basketball practice with Carver and the rest of his goons, but Lucas hadn’t laughed as loud as he’d hoped. He only chuckled under his breath, shook his head, and said it was just girl troubles.  

Gareth, meanwhile, is still grumbling about Vecna killing his ranger. Even though Dustin’s bard brought them all back with a resurrection spell in the end, he doesn’t like to lose. Eddie doesn’t blame him, but he’d be lying if he said the angry scrunch contorting his best friend’s features wasn’t hilarious.

Jeff had lost his druid too, but he was a much better sport about the whole thing. He usually is, especially compared to the rest of the club. He’s perhaps the only one who doesn’t treat every loss like the end of the world.

“Well, thank you, Ser Dustin,” Eddie responds in a fanciful sort of accent, bending at the waist in a gracious brow. “But I cannot take all the credit, I’m afraid.”

Dustin’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”

“He means that his girlfriend helped him put it together,” Jeff lisps.

“No way!” the boy gapes, totally dumbfounded. “The girl from this morning? In the car? She’s… She’s into Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Not really. No,” Eddie shrugs right before flashing a shit-eating grin. “But she is into me, so…”

The less-than-humble brag makes Gareth groan. His sandy curls fall back as he tilts his head toward the ceiling, ocean eyes rolling and then fluttering closed. “If I have to hear about your stupid girlfriend one more time…” he’d griped after the first few times Eddie managed to bring you up in every conversation — about a million of them ago now.

His annoyance doesn’t lessen Dustin’s confusion. “I don’t get it…”

“Gareth's just mad because he’s in love with Eddie’s girlfriend,” Jeff clarifies once more, feigning pity as he pats the boy on the shoulder.

“All I’m saying is, I would’ve tried a little harder to get her attention if I knew she was into freaks,” Gareth grieves, a little forlorn and distantly heartbroken, but shrugging it off like he isn’t all that affected by it.

You were a bit like Steve The Hair Harrington in that way. A little like Vicki Carmichael or, god forbid, Billy Hargrove. You’ve garnered a sort of popularity that’s made you into a sideshow attraction that everyone wants to ride — literally.

You’re popular in a much, much different way than Steve or Vicki or Billy. It’s left you acutely fetishized in an extreme sort of fashion, an object of desire for many in disgusting, lurid ways.

It seems Gareth didn’t go unscathed with his lust for you either.

Well, too little too fucking late if Eddie had anything to say about it. But he would never, because that’s his best friend, so he decides to scoff and tell him: “Like she’d be into you anyway.”

“Oh, please. I’m a total catch.”

“Is there anyone she isn’t into?” Jeff chuckles, too kind of heart to realize the mercilessness in his words. “Isn’t that, like, her whole thing.”

A sharp pang of anger strikes like lightning in Eddie’s chest. It’s ice-cold and red hot, a burst of adrenaline that feels like fight or flight. His hands curl into fists before he even realizes it. If it had been anyone else and not one of his best friends, he imagines he might’ve swung before he even thought about what he was doing. 

Before the words to defend you spill like venom from his mouth, another beats him to the punch.

“Hey,” Lucas scolds from a little ways behind the group, making them all turn to look at him. His brows are furrowed slightly, but the rest of his face is contorted in an unreadable way. His hands are tucked deep into the pockets of the puke-green letterman he wears over his Hellfire tee. “Leave her alone.”

“How do you…” Eddie starts, then squints past the group, gaze zeroing in on the boy. “Since when do you know my girlfriend, Sinclair?”

“She’s friends with Max. And she’s, like, really nice. So maybe we shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

The boy with the wild hair grins something wilder. His gaze is stern but no less playful when he turns back to Jeff. “You heard the kid. Leave my girlfriend alone, Jeffy.”

When the phrase leaves his mouth, for perhaps the billionth time that day, he realizes how often he must say it. My girlfriend, he says. My girlfriend, my girlfriend — because he can’t get enough of how it sounds.

With a grin on his face and his dream girl on his mind, Eddie spins on his heel again to swing open the double doors of the high school’s exit. The chill smacks him in the face almost immediately.

It’s the strange knick of time in early spring where the days are warm, but the nights are so, so cold. This one isn’t any different. A bitter breeze pounds at his chest, ruffles through his curls, and pierces the fabric of his jacket. Eddie’s body mourns the sudden loss of warmth almost immediately.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dustin continues to whinge, even though the rest of them have more than moved on. “Does— Does everyone know her but me? Mike, do you know who she is?”

The boy perks up at the mention of his name. He tends to get a little reserved unless he’s bickering or talking bout his girlfriend. The kid’s a complete and utter wreck when he’s been away from her for too long. Eddie used to make fun of him for it. Not so much anymore.

Mike runs a hand through his lengthy raven hair, then scratches at the back of his neck. His eyes squint and his nose scrunches. “Uh… not really? I mean, I think she knows El because she knows Hopper, but… I don’t know… No?”

Dustin’s face falls flat at his answer. Or lack thereof.

“Wow. Very enlightening, Mike, as always. Thank you,” he deadpans, then turns back to Eddie. His features go from deadpanned to hopeful: eyes wide, brows raised, lips quirked. “So when are we gonna get to meet her? Do you think she’d do a campaign with us? Holy shit— she could be the fairy! You know, of the Firethorns! I mean, you did just say the campaign was feeling a little empty—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it down a few notches, alright, Dusty Bun?” Eddie chuckles as he slumps a heavy arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Don’t call me that. We talked about this; that name is reserved for Suzie and Suzie only—”

“Didn’t you guys break up?” Mike wonders with a sort of blandness to his tone that only he could pull off.

“Shut up, Mike,” Dustin bites in response.

It was still a bit of a sore subject for the boy who’d just lost the so-called love of his life.

Suzie was a girl he met at summer camp about a year ago. Things were going pretty well until they weren’t. Something about her family being uber-religious and not approving of Dustin’s more agonistic disposition.

She broke up with him over Cerebro and hasn’t been on the channel since. It was cold. Ice cold.

Dustin still hikes up to Weathertop every now and then with nothing but a packed lunch and the hope that she’ll answer. She hasn’t yet.

And Eddie can make a mockery of just about anything — it’s practically a superpower at this point — but he knows when to leave well enough alone. Even the most innocent question can send the boy into a spiral of despair. Even now, he gets so suddenly weighed down by the burden of his sadness; lips turning downward and the insides of his brows curling slightly.

Eddie smiles a sad sort of smile down at the boy, but he’s too busy moping to see it. He pulls him closer with one leather-clad arm and uses the other to pat the boy on the chest. Their feet stumble less than gracefully over one another. 

“Yeah, you’re never gonna meet her…” Eddie says in a mournful sigh.

Dustin blinks up at him, confused and even more hurt than before. “What? Why not?”

“Because she’d obviously like you more than me,” he scoffs like it’s obvious. “And I can’t have anyone taking my girl, Henderson.”

That confuses him even more. He was more prepared for one of Eddie’s stupid quips than something short of a compliment. It takes him by surprise at first, leaves him gaping for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “Shut up…”

“I’m serious!” Eddie chuckles, all loud and boisterous. The sound echoes through the vacant lot, made somehow emptier by the cold.

He stops walking suddenly and makes Dustin stop walking too. He takes the boy a tad bit roughly by the shoulders and looks down at him like it’s the first time he’s seeing him. 

“I mean, look at you! What’s not to like, huh? You got their hair, the smarts, the personality—”

“And Eddie’s only got one of those things, so you definitely win,” Gareth quips from a few feet behind them.

“Exactly! Suzie was an idiot to let you go, Henderson.”

Dustin winces when Eddie jabs him in the chest. His saddened gaze flits to the pavement for a moment, then back up again. His eyes are brighter now, but still a bit melancholy — sort of like the streetlamp that flickers across the way. A light that’s going out but grasping for reasons to stay burning.

“You think so?”

“I know so, Dusty Bun,” Eddie grins — smiling wider when the kid’s beam falls flat again. He wraps his arm around Dustin’s punier frame. It’s supposed to be a hug, but it looks more like a headlock. “Never change, Dustin Henderson. Never change…”

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since he was ten.

Fifth grade. Franklin Kowalski’s place in the suburbs. Trampoline in the front yard, pool in the back, and an assortment of soft drinks in a fridge in the garage. Maybe he remembers it so vividly because it's perhaps one of the more traumatizing experiences a prepubescent boy growing out a buzzcut could go through.

He knew he didn’t belong there — not in the good part of town with a bunch of boys in brand-new tennis shoes. Eddie Munson was trailer park trash, through and through. He wasn’t used to new clothes or two-story houses or underground pools. But he didn’t care where he came from. And neither did Franklin. Not at first, anyway.

The other kids were nice enough to him. They offered him their swim goggles when Eddie didn’t have his own and made sure he wasn’t left out of any of their conversations. It was all in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way, though. Their kindness was manufactured, a mask for pre-teen boy cruelty. 

See, they only gave him their goggles so they could laugh when they got tangled in his curls. They only included him in conversation so he could be the punch line to each of their jokes. 

All of it went over Eddie’s head. He was too innocent to realize he wasn’t being treated nicely, he was being taunted. He laughed along with each of their inside jokes because he wanted so desperately to be included, having no idea it was himself he was laughing at.

It took him until two o’clock the next morning to understand. He woke up all alone in the living room and found that everyone else had migrated upstairs without him. They were still awake, still laughing — and Eddie was forgotten in the dark.

He nearly cried when he called Wayne. He wasn’t sure if his tears were from anger or from sadness, but they stung all the same. 

He punched the numbers on the keypad with a clenched jaw to keep from sobbing out loud. His gaze was still blurry with unshed tears. It made it dreadfully hard to see, and what little light spilled from the television — which had turned to static after midnight — didn’t help either.

“It’s three A.M., Eds. You sick?” his uncle gruffed into the landline.

“A little,” Eddie half-lied. He twirled the curly wire around his fingertip until it turned purple. He prayed he didn’t sound as sad as he felt. “Everyone else is asleep… ‘M scared I’m gonna puke everywhere.”

Wayne was there barely fifteen minutes later. He drove his rusted pick-up to the suburbs, found his nephew waiting on the curb, and didn’t ask questions on the drive back to Forest Hills. 

Eddie hasn’t been to a sleepover since.

He’s got a feeling this one will be different, though. Because pre-teen boys are a hell of a different kind and you’re… you. 

He’s pretty sure you couldn’t be mean to him even if you wanted to be. You’re nice, far nicer than he deserves. You’re lovely and sweet and decent — every synonym of the damn word in a thousand different languages. It still floors him that it would ever occur to you to be kind to him. 

Eddie doesn’t feel all that worthy of your sunshine. He happily basks in your golden rays anyway. Maybe it’s because he’s selfish. Or maybe it’s because he’s so damn pale — in both the literal and figurative sense.

Eddie packs his overnight bag without a hint of methodology.

He isn’t totally sure of what to bring as he rifles through his disorganized drawers, so he ends up packing bits of everything. 

He does the sniff test for each of his crumpled-up t-shirts. The one’s that smell the freshest get stuffed to the bottom of his bag. He can’t be sure of how many he’s shoved down there now — three or four, maybe five. It makes it harder for his pants to fit, two of the pajama variety and two of denim. 

He grabs multiples of everything, just to be on the safe side. It takes only minutes for his backpack to fill up. He nearly breaks the zipper trying to fasten it, and still, he worries he hasn’t brought enough.

The bag sits upright on his mattress as Eddie bends down to grab the box of condoms that’s been idling under his bed for a year. The cardboard is coated with a fine layer of dust and time. He holds it between his ringed fingers, debating whether or not to finally break the seal and bring a few — just to be on the safe side. That’s when Wayne walks in.

The man isn’t looking at him. He’s too busy wiping his oil-stained palms on an already-stained rag, but his presence is sudden enough to freak Eddie out. The boy jumps like he’s been caught red-handed, scrabbles for a hiding place almost immediately, making the box sputter out of his grip. The thing falls to the ground with a dramatic thud.

He kicks it back under his bed again.

Wayne’s eyes finally flit up to his nephew’s at all the commotion. His bushy grey brows furrow when he finds him standing upright, hands behind his back, totally not suspicious at all. Raising a teenage boy has taught the man not to comment on what doesn’t concern him, so he keeps on swiping his fingers between the fabric of the grimy rag. 

“I finished looking at your van,” he says, accent deep and husky and not of Indiana origin. “Turns out that noise you were hearin’ was a damn rock in the break line.”

Eddie scoffs, then eyes a stick of deodorant sitting on his dresser. “Wow,” he marvels as he swipes the thing from its place. He stuffs it into the side pocket of his bag. “A measly pebble coulda killed me, huh?”

“Should be good to go now, though.”

“Sweet,” the boy nods.

Eddie squints as his eyes flit around his room, head darting in either direction to make sure he’s got everything. Wayne watches him with an identical squint. “Where you runnin’ off to now? You just got home, what, fifteen minutes ago?”

“Uh… I’m gonna go see a friend,” Eddie answers, voice trembling and slightly far away. He unzips his bag again to make sure it’s sufficiently filled. He does a little mental checklist: shirts, pants, PJs, shoes— how the hell is he supposed to fit shoes in here?

You’ve only got one pair of shoes, Munson, he reminds himself. Where the hell do you think you’re going, anyway? A nature walk?

“Oh, right,” his uncle nods. A smile plays on the edges of his lips, but it weirdly still looks like he’s frowning. “The friend.”

“Yeah— Well, she’s my… She’s my girlfriend, so…”

The admission makes Eddie blush in a way he isn’t typically used to. He can’t count the number of times he must say it in a day, but something about saying it in front of Wayne feels different — real.

He turns his glowing cheeks down to his bag and makes difficult work of zipping it back up again.

Wayne doesn’t bother to hide his excitement. The bright emotion is almost unfamiliar. “Well, shit,” the man’s chuckle sounds from the depths of his chest. “Look at you, Eds. My nephew’s finally got his first girlfriend.”

The boy rolls his chocolate eyes. He jerks under the pressure of the shoulder clap Wayne gives him. It’s equal parts annoying and embarrassing — to be talked to like a child in this way. Maybe because most children have long had their first girlfriends by now, and it took Eddie all of twenty agonizing years.

“We were gonna hang out at her place since I passed my English test and everything...”

The excitement washes from Wayne’s tired eyes. They widen, as though in shock, and reveal more of the glassy whites of them. He just blinks at him for a moment, like his words are still processing. “You… You passed?”

“Yep. Got a B,” Eddie nods, a tad bit sheepishly. He finds it hard to meet his uncle’s mystified gaze. “Well, a B-minus, but… Turns out, I might actually graduate this year.”

Wayne seems to experience every emotion at once. He’s surprised, of course — it makes sense. Eddie spent two years failing the damn thing, after all. Then he’s proud, overjoyed that there’s a chance his nephew might finally grow up. He’s distantly saddened by the exact same thought.

The man swallows thickly, as though to down each emotion. He nods and tries his best to smile. “Damn. Good job, kid. I’m… I’m prouda you.”

Eddie isn’t sure whether to take the praise or cower from it. At a loss, he opts to deflect entirely.

“Yeah, well, she— the friend helped me study and everything, so… I feel like we should probably be thanking her, you know?” he half-jokes as he swings the pack over his shoulder. His winces under the weight of it. “I probably wouldn’t have passed if she didn’t force me to read that stupid book. I mean, it’s 1986; who cares about the roaring twenties and blinking green lights—”

“Hm…” his uncle grunts. It isn’t an acknowledging grunt, though. It’s more of a bemused sort of grunt. And he’s got this quizzical twist to his features that makes Eddie confused too.

“…What is it?”

Wayne only shrugs, trying to act like it was nothing, but can’t help but to ask: “You’re real serious about this girl, aren’t ya?”

Eddie, feeling a bit weighed down by such a heavy question, shifts on his feet.

“Uh… A little bit, I guess. Yeah,” he stammers in the place of an honest answer. If he were being totally truthful, he would’ve said something like, “As serious as a goddamn heart attack.” But that might’ve actually given Uncle Wayne one, so he doesn’t answer with all that.

The man seems to hear all the words Eddie doesn’t say, though. He always does. Eddie figures that’s what happens when you raise a kid for fifteen years — you get attuned to their every thought like a superpower or something. 

It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. Eddie’s never been able to keep a single damn secret from Wayne because he’s a total mind reader. It’s entirely possible Wayne knew Eddie was in love before he did.

“Just be careful, alright?” the man advises. He looks genuinely concerned, eyes glinting and brows pinched, like you’re a treacherous road or poison ivy.

The misplaced cautiousness makes Eddie breathe out a soft laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Eds. Don’t play dumb,” Wayne tells him with a gruff chuckle — not totally unkind, just a Munson sort of curt. “You know what I’m talkin’ about. I didn’t even know her real name until you started bringing her around, 'cause all the kids at the shop call her the—”

“Don’t,” Eddie interjects sharply.

The bitterness in his tone is foreign. It contains the sort of venom he’s more like to spit at Jason Carver or Mike Wheeler if he’s being particularly dickish. Never at Wayne.

But that dormant urge to defend you rises like a sleeping dragon that just got poked in the belly. The words rise like bile in his throat and spew out before he can think to stop them.

Uncle Wayne is a weathered man. He’s seen a lot of the world, too much of it, but nothing’s ever quite taken him aback like this. He’s never seen his nephew’s chocolate button eyes hardened into something so cold.

Eddie gets all hyperaware of the heart on his sleeve and starts to crack under the pressure of it. He deflates, stern features crumbling into something softer.

“It’s different, okay?” he assures with his chin brought down to his chest — brows raised and wide eyes twinkling. It’s the same thing you’d said to Hopper not too long ago. Eddie hopes you met the words as wholeheartedly as he does now.

“And even if I explained all the reasons why it’s different, you still wouldn’t get it.”

His melodramatic tone makes Wayne scoff. “What? ‘Cause you don’t think I’ve ever been a kid in love before?”

“No,” Eddie shrugs playfully. “‘Cause you’re old.”

The foreign tension ebbs all at once with a pair of laughs. One is gruff, a couple of sharp exhales more than anything else. The other is a lighter, far more boyish giggle.

“I’m just trying to look out for you, alright?” Wayne tells him once the laughter fades.

“Yeah, I know. You always do,” Eddie lilts with a disposition that might make it seem like he’s displeased by his uncle’s constant pestering. In reality, he knows it’s saved him from a world of shit.

Like that time he wanted to get tacos from a new food truck that gave the whole town food poisoning. Or when he’d wanted to ask Tina Burton, the most popular girl in school, on a date his sophomore year. 

It was Wayne that saved him the embarrassment from either. It’s like he can smell bullshit or something.

“But this is, like, the first good thing that’s happened to me since Ride the Lightning came out… So, I’d kinda like to enjoy this whole thing while it lasts,” Eddie winces like it’s a joke, but he means it more than anything.

Wayne nods understandingly. “Will do, kid. But first girlfriends are always hard, okay? Remember that. Try not to let it hurt you too much, Eds.”

His uncle claps him once, then twice, on his shoulder before swiping away the grime he’d accidentally spotted there. Eddie lets him, too far away to shrug him off. He doesn’t even move when Wayne walks out of his room.

He knows his uncle means well, but something about his cynical words makes his chest burn. It’s like he’s betting on his relationship with you not working out or something. 

And Eddie knows he isn’t wrong. First girlfriends are hard. He’s heard enough shit from his friends to know that. Hell, Mike and Dustin have spent all year complaining about how complicated relationships are. 

But it’s different. 

Because they’re just a couple of kids and their girlfriends aren’t you.

Whatever form you come in, lover or executioner, Eddie’s more than ready to receive you.

 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

You’ve never cooked for anyone other than yourself. And maybe Bowie.

That’s not to say you were a stranger to dining in company. Binging on takeout with Robin and Steve was routine. You’re pretty sure Benny at the diner has made more dinners for the three of you than you’ve ever made for yourselves — combined. 

But it was different, to make something for someone with your own hands. It took a relative amount of care, an acute sort of attentiveness that only felt deserved for someone really special. 

And Eddie was really special and then some.

There isn’t a word that encapsulates all the special he is. It makes you feel a bit guilty sometimes. You wish you were smarter so you could think of a big enough word to describe how much he means to you. But since you aren’t, you stick to making him homemade spaghetti and hope you can pour enough love into it that he feels all of yours.

Eddie arrives at your apartment before you’re ready for him.

You’d wanted to do more with your appearance by the time he came around — with your hair and your makeup and your clothes. Not because you ever had to, but because you thought Eddie deserved a girl who took extra care of herself in that way.

You got a shower in before you started cooking, but that was it. Your hair is unstyled and air-drying; your face bare and glistening in all its naked glory.

Clad in nothing but a hilariously oversized t-shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, you look more ready for bed than date night.

The knock at your door sends you into a momentary whirlwind. You scramble like someone’s seconds away from catching you naked — like there are four different fires in every direction and you don’t know which one to put out first. The panic is elaborate and fleeting, a bucket of ice-cold water on bare skin.

You figure that’s another part of caring about someone. You make them spaghetti because you love them and get nervous when things aren’t perfect. Love is all things stressful and homemade.

Eddie knocks on your door with several rhythmic raps. They’re evenly timed and spaced out. You recognize the bass line to ‘Crazy Train’ almost immediately. Da-da… Da-da, da-da, da-da. He must’ve been listening to it on the way over.

“Uh, come in!” you waver after an awkward beat. You’re yelling a little because you’re still standing at the stove, stirring the pot of noodles.

The door clicks once when it opens, then again when it shuts. The wall that separates the kitchen conceals your view of him, but you can hear Eddie’s shuffling in the living room from where you are because he’s never done anything quietly in his life.

Eddie toes off his sneakers before he heads into your apartment. You never asked him to do it, so it always confused you as to why. He’d told you, when you asked, that he knows he’s not the cleanest and that he cares too much about your space to make a mess of it. 

He tells you he can’t take care of you in the way he would like — that if he had it his way, you’d never have to work at Enzo’s again; that he wishes he was rich enough so you never had to wait on snobby stay-at-home moms or misogynistic businessmen. But since he isn’t a rockstar yet and The Hideout pays their busboy’s fuck all, Eddie figures the least he can do is not leave shoe prints on your carpet.

It’s boyish and strangely profound and so, so sweet.

He drops his backpack and leaves his sneakers by the doormat like he always does. They fit neatly between the wall and the roughly textured rectangle that reads ‘glad you’re here’ on the front of it. One is upright, the other falls to its side.

Bowie blinks at him from where she idles on her perch, green eyes wide and pupils set in narrow slits. “Hey, pretty girl,” Eddie greets in a quiet coo, scooping her up in his arms. Despite her round belly, the calico weighs no more than a feather. 

She meows once after being so suddenly plucked from her flower petal spot but settles into him instantly. He scratches at her chin to make her purr and revels in the soft buzzing sound she makes. Eddie waltzes into the kitchen with her, cradling her against his chest like a newborn baby.

You look over your shoulder and smile at the sight of them — at your two favorite beings on the planet, so obviously taken with one another. Bowie lolls in Eddie’s arm like he’s made of clouds and cotton candy. Her blinks are slow and lazy, her purrs audible to even you. She’s only this affectionate for him. You can’t even blame her. 

“Smells good in here,” the boy compliments trying his best not to blush at the wide smile you give him. He’s still not used to being looked at so tenderly. 

Failing to feel deserving of it all, he averts his chocolate gaze and flushed cheeks to the counter, where he plops Bowie down beside her half-empty food bowl.

You could only get her to eat so much of it before she got annoyed with you. Now she laps happily at the chunk of cat food like it’s the first time she’s ever tasted its goodness.

“Thanks,” you respond with a slight tremble to the edge of your voice. You turn back to the pot of spaghetti you’ve been stirring for close to ten minutes, eyeing the mixture of noodles and sauce and beef with intent because you need it all to be perfect. “I probably should’ve asked what you liked before you left this morning, but I only know how to make spaghetti, so… I made spaghetti.”

You look back at him, flashing the boy a nervous tight-lipped smile. It makes him grin, too, as he makes the terribly short trek over to you.

“Well, I actually love spaghetti,” he confesses, and it isn’t totally a lie. He just stopped caring for it around the millionth time Wayne made it because it’s one of the only things he knows how to cook too. 

Eddie lingers at your side, hip pressing into the counter, radiating warmth like a sun stuck in human form. You can’t tell if he’s toasty in his leather jacket or if you’re just cozy in the honey-coated tenderness you have for him. You don’t even realize you’re smiling at him when he scrunches his nose at you. 

“You should be careful, sweetheart. I’m kinda starting to think we’re soulmates.”

“That’s crazy,” you marvel, wide-eyed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Wow… We really were made for each other, huh?” he huffs with a similar sarcasm.

You try to keep the joke going, but it’s hard not to smile when you feel his hands creep around your sides. His fingers are soft on your waist, featherlight and a little unsure as he slithers along your back. The affection feels foreign on your skin. You bite back a shiver.

“Looks like way,” you affirm with a nod, tilting your head back so you can meet him halfway when he leans down to peck you.

It’s a soft and swift little thing, a brief brush of the lips that doesn’t mean anything but also the entire world. He kisses you just to kiss you — because he likes the feel of you or because it’s the sort of thing he can do now as your boyfriend. Either way, you revel in the unfamiliarity.

“Did the, uh… Did the test go okay?” you ask once he parts from you. You try not to sound like you’ve been agonizing over it all day and more like the thought had only just crossed your mind.

Eddie bites back a smile as he turns to walk to the opposite side of the counter. He makes sure any traces of the smirk have washed away when he hops onto the edge of it.  The forlorn look he gives you is manufactured, all pinched browed and gloomy eyed. 

“Um, no…” he fibs. “I, uh— I failed it again.”

You eye him from over your shoulder and notice how he shifts on his weight, looking down at the tile rather than up at you. It doesn’t cross your mind once that he might be joking. You just hope the flash of disappointment on your features was too quick for him to catch.

“That’s okay,” you assure and cover your chagrin with a smile. You shake your head and shrug. “We just try again, right? Not the end of the world.”

A grin tugs slow at Eddie’s lips. It’s bemused slightly and still sort of sad. He can’t believe how supportive you are of him even after he’s just told you outright that he’s failed — still loving even when he’s not good enough.

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a packet of stapled-together papers. It’s perhaps the first piece of schoolwork given to him that wasn’t immediately thrown away. He’d folded it twice in half, then tucked it safely away with the intent to show you later. He unfolds it again to marvel at it once more.

The letter grade is written in red and circled twice. Ms. O’Donnell’s fancy cursive is scribbled just beside it — “Finally! Good job, Eddie! I’m very proud of you!” Even though the boy has never been particularly fond of the woman, her compliment makes his chest swell.

“Oh, shit…” he murmurs under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

“Hm?” you hum back in response. You don’t look at him, though, more focused on not burning yourself as you pull a tray of golden brown garlic bread out of the oven.

“I read it wrong…” he answers, feigning surprise. “This isn’t an F. It’s a B.”

The pan clatters to the stove when you spin around the face him. Your eyes are wide and your brows are raised, each of your features agape with shock. You’re not entirely sure how he could’ve misread it, but you’re prepared to celebrate with him anyway. 

Eddie flashes you a pink, lopsided smile as he flips the creased paper around. He puts the grade on display for you with a knowing, mischievous glint in his cinnamon eyes. He’s too pretty and you’re too proud of him — you can’t even care that he was tricking you.

“Oh, my god, Eddie!” you shout with a bubbly laugh, all but launching yourself at him. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to reach where he sits on the counter. The bottom of your stomach digs into the granite as your arms wrap around his neck. 

You don’t realize until you’ve locked him in this embrace that you’ve still got your oven mitt on.

Eddie bends awkwardly to reciprocate the hug, meeting you halfway so you’re not doing all the work.

One hand keeps hold of his midterm, but the palm of his free one spreads wide and warm along your back. The tops of your chests collide, soft and snug. They press together in such a way that it confuses him how he could’ve gone so long without feeling you like this — even in the most innocent way.

His chin settles along your clothed collarbone. With his nose digging into the cotton of your t-shirt, he inhales to find your warm floral scent. Eddies sighs and relaxes against you without thinking. He doesn’t know if anyone’s ever hugged him like this before.

“I’m so proud of you!” you praise, chin bopping on his shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

Eddie chuckles softly at the severity of your hug, so full of intent — louder when you peck him on his cheek and then the rest of his face when you realize you can’t just kiss him once. His stubble is rough against the plush of your lips as you press them to his jaw and chin and nose and mouth.

He tries to kiss you back, but he’s smiling too wide.

He’s almost certain no one’s ever gotten this much loving over a B-minus.

“It’s ‘cause of you,” Eddie insists.

“No, it’s because you’re smart.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” he retorts with the shake of his head, too damn stubborn to take a compliment.

His chin pulls closer to his neck when he parts from you. Your noses are barely inches apart, lips so close he can taste them. He could kiss you if he wanted, but he doesn’t want to stop looking at you.

“I’m pretty sure I only passed because I was thinking about you the whole time...” 

His words trail off. He’s got a crooked smirk on his lips like he’s only teasing, but brings his ear to his shoulder and gazes at you that way — so full of love and mischief. You think he might actually be sincere.

“Eddie Munson…” you scold at his suggestive tone. 

A smile dances on the corners of your lips as you pull back from him completely. You finally slip the mitten off your hand as you return to the stove, clicking the knob on the back panel until it turns off again.

“I just hope you’ve been thinking about that reward,” the boy lilts as he slips off the counter. He grins and walks until he’s leaning on the refrigerator beside you. He’s no more than a couple of feet away, but he somehow feels much closer than that. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we agreed that I’d get something if I passed…”

Eddie’s only teasing. He doesn’t actually want anything. Spending time with you now is enough. Making you blush was just a bonus. 

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t cross his mind, though, far more times than he’d like to admit. 

And truth be told, you had thought about it, too. But that makes it sound too simple. It plagued you, really. First, it was the “oh god, what if he doesn’t pass,” and then the “what the hell am I supposed to do when he does?”

A passing grade isn’t usually that big of a deal. You’ve certainly never received anything from one. But passing a test after failing it the first two times and having to suffer two more agonizing years of school because of it certainly deserved to be celebrated.

Eddie was strange, though. He wasn’t materialistic or overtly enthusiastic about anything other than music and D&D. Maybe if you had more money, you could’ve gotten him a cassette or a new Dungeon Master’s manual. But thanks to Enzo’s salary, you’re lucky if you’re able to pay bills on time. And it sucks because Eddie deserves nice things, and not just for passing some stupid test. 

You hate that you don’t have anything other than spaghetti and adoration to give him.

It’s not fair to either of you.

You’d lamented to Steve about all this over gummy bears and buttered popcorn as Slumber Party Massacre played on the tiny television above the counter. The film was ripe with blood and random nudity, but you hadn’t fully paid attention to a single scene. You don’t think Steve had either because he was too busy trying to fuse two different halves of gummy bears together.

“Okay, you just passed a test you failed two times in a row,” you tell the boy, painting him a picture of your dilemma. “Your girlfriend wants to do something nice for you, but she’s boring and poor. What would you want?” 

“A blowjob,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His brows scrunch together like the answer was far easier than you made it out to be. He shrugs and squishes the strawberry head of one gummy bear onto the blue raspberry bottom of another. “Obviously.”

You didn’t think the answer was so obvious. Especially not when you’re trying to take things slow. It wasn’t an easy feat either — not with Eddie at your place, looking at you with that look. His features drip with honey as rose petal spill from his mouth. It’s like he’s trying to tease you. 

He’s got no idea he’s quite literally dealing with the master of teasing.

“We’ll see how tonight goes,” you tell him, flashing him an arched brow and a knowing smirk as you drag two of your fancy, ten-dollar porcelain plates from the cabinet. “Only if you’re good for me, yeah?”

Eddie quite literally forgets how to speak.

Like, if you’d asked him a question, the only thing that would spill out would be unintelligible murmurs of made-up words. 

His brain turns to mush with the look you give him — a two can play at this game kind of smirk that makes his mind melt. And your words are so effortless, so smooth, like you know just what to say and exactly how to say it to work him like a wind-up toy.

He’s in way over his head. The realization makes his breath hitch.

All he can do is nod like an idiot and let you fix him a plate of your “finest batch of spaghetti.” That’s what you call it, and he figures you must be right because you lay an entire three-course meal out in front of him. Well, it isn’t quite that extensive, but it feels that way.

Plates of pasta, a bowl of salad, and stacks of garlic bread decorate your small square dining table. Eddie almost feels like he’s at Enzo’s, even though there’s never been a world where he’s been able to afford Enzo’s.

You wine and dine him like the finest of them. Even though it’s nothing more than homemade spaghetti and apple juice in wine glasses, it makes him feel special — the kind of special people spend hundreds of dollars to feel. But he gets you for free and fuck, he doesn’t deserve any of it.

He got so damn lucky with you. 

He’s done trying to figure out why. He just wants to be more grateful for it.

Once he’s pleasantly full on a home-cooked meal, you usher him to the bathroom. There’s a bag full of stuff waiting there for him — toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash — all the essential shit that he’d forgotten all about. It makes his chest ache.

It’s less so that you knew he’d forget and more so that you thought about him at all.

Eddie imagines you getting off work, still in your Enzo’s-appropriate skirt and blouse uniform, scanning the aisles of Bradley’s Big Buy for things you think Eddie might need.

It’s mundane, but so beautiful still — to be remembered in the most minuscule of ways.

“—I didn’t know what to get you, and I couldn’t afford a lot, so I just got you that 3-in-1 stuff,” you ramble as you pull the dark green bottle out of the brown paper bag on the counter. You wave it mindlessly in your hand. “I don’t know, it was affordable, and you seem like the kind of guy who might use this sort of stuff, so—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie chuckles, trying to act like he doesn’t have an off-brand bottle of the stuff sitting in his shower back at the trailer.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a giggle of your own. You shrug and sit the thing back down. “You don’t have to use it if you don’t want.  I just wanted you to have some stuff here so it could, you know, feel more like home…”

Your words strike something profound in Eddie’s chest, a lightning strike or a punch to the stomach. In that moment, he comes to the realization that home isn’t a place. It’s not four walls or the little trinkets that fill it. The people that make you feel all warm and cozy inside, the people that make you feel like you have a place in the world — that’s home.

It’s Wayne and it’s Hellfire and it’s you.

So it’s easy for Eddie to feel at home in your little apartment, and not just because you bought a bunch of stuff to make it that way. 

He’s warmed by the hot shower and the thought that you’re waiting for him in your bedroom down the hall. The idea that he gets this night and so many others you with makes him feel all giddy — like he’s ten years old again and no sleepover has ever traumatized him.

Eddie uses everything you bought, still a little dizzied that it’s for him, but opts to use your vanilla body wash. It’s sweet smelling, with hints of deep musk and high lavender.

The scent of it on his own skin makes him feel like you’re on him and all over him. He has to flip the hot water to freezing before he steps out of the shower. Because, sure, he’s been less than shy about how much he likes you, but walking into your room with a hard-on is a bit more forward than he’s used to.

Eddie finds you waiting for him in your bed. You’re idling at the very center of it, knees up to your chest and back against the headboard, like you’ve been waiting for his return to get truly comfortable there.

You smile when you see him again. It’s that same grin you always look at him with, as though every time you see him is the first time.

He brings an air of cleanliness in with him. He's dressed in fresh pajamas, curls damp and still drying. Steam radiates off his skin along with the scent of freshly baked cookies and flower petals. It’s familiar to you because it’s yours, but it’s different on Eddie in a way you can’t describe.

“You smell good,” you compliment as he maneuvers through the velvet darkness of your bedroom. The black night is evaded only by your dim yellow lamp and the streams of orange that filter through your curtains from the streetlamps outside.

Eddie scoffs as he climbs onto your queen-sized bed. “Did I smell bad before?”

“No. You just smell sweet now. Like a milkshake.”

You shift to make room for him, pulling back your green gingham comforter so he can slip in beside you. Even though you’ve given him ample room to sit down, there isn’t any hint of distance between you. You keep yourself intently pressed to his side despite the several inches of space next to you.

Eddie hopes you never realize there’s a whole world of other places you could be than right next to him. He doesn’t ever want to see a day where you’re separated by more than an inch or two. 

“A milkshake, huh?” he echos as he leans back against the slatted headboard and all your pillows. You twist until you’re practically on your side — hip digging into the mattress, shoulder propped along the cushions, chest pressed against his arm.

“Yeah. Like whipped cream or… vanilla cake…” you trail off, quickly losing interest in describing the scent of him when you’re staring the pretty boy in the face.

One half of him is bathed in shades of golden orange, the other half coated in a deep, deep navy. Eddie’s eyes are somehow darker than any night sky. They swim with their own galaxies and stars that twinkle back at you.

He looks at you and all words lose meaning.

“Yeah, I’m totally stealing your soap before I leave,” he jokes.

You shake your head at him, but smile anyway. “Thanks for letting me know, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Just like all the times before, neither of you realize you’re kissing until you already are. The gravitational pull that brings the two of you together is effortless and natural. You’re like the moon and Eddie’s like the tide — you drag him to you without trying and he bends to your every whim.

Kissing him is easy. It’s like breathing. You don’t ever have to think about it, you just do it. 

You press your lips against the rosy plush of his, and it’s like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It’s an atmosphere kissed by the sun and the trees and the morning dew. It fills your lungs with a new life, makes it impossible to quit kissing him.

But when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, when his mouth pries yours open to slip the pink muscle inside — that feels like getting the breath knocked out of you. The rough pattern of his tongue slides against your own, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Your lungs stop working, your chest aches, and there’s nothing you can do about it but let the moment pass.

Eddie keeps kissing you soft, though, coaxing fresh air back into your burning lungs. He helps you breathe normally again.

You move together like entwining summer breezes. Your thigh swipes against his lap and his hands find your hips to help guide you the rest of the way over. He’s halfway lying down now and you’re looming like an unconquerable mountain above him. Your back arches like a cat’s and your palms cradle his jaw while your tongue makes uncharted territory of his mouth.

The warmth lingering between your thighs presses into his lower stomach. It makes his grip on you tighten, hands pulling your hips further against him until he hears you moan.

The pressure of your clothed pussy against the pudge of his stomach brings you a distant pleasure. What really does you in is the thought of what little separates you — just the fabric of your cotton underwear and Eddie’s faded grey Tatcher Tire t-shirt.

But it’s hard to be indulgent when you’re so stuck in your head. Your mouth moves with Eddie’s on autopilot while your mind travels elsewhere. Because this isn’t supposed to be about you — it’s supposed to be about Eddie. You want to make him feel good for a change, but you have no idea how to go about it.

The foreignness is strange. It leaves you fumbling like you’ve never done any of this before.

In a way, you haven’t. Eddie is different from any guy you’ve ever been with. Not just because he cares about you, but because you’re practically the only girl he’s ever cared about in this way.

He’s a blank slate and you’re scribbled all over.

You don’t want to taint the pristine image he’s painted of you.

“Hey, Eds,” you murmur. The words are halfway spoken against his mouth because you don’t pull away in time to say them clearly. 

Your tongue darts out to feel how numb your spit-slicked lips have gotten after being kissed so ardently. You know they’re probably swollen and more vibrant in their color now. Eddie’s a lot of the same, mouth rosy and obviously kissed.

“Hm?” the boy hums back.

“Do you wanna… Do you wanna do something else?” you ask him, all slow because you don’t want to say the wrong thing. His brows furrow beneath the thin curtain of his curly bangs. The silent question eggs you on. “Would it be okay if I gave you a blowjob?”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a moment. He swears he goes blind because he doesn’t typically see white when he blinks. The question isn’t the weirdest for a guy in this predicament — with a pretty girl on his lap with his spit staining her mouth. It just catches him a little off guard.

“Would it be…” he tries to echo but trails off with a breathy laugh. You say it like it wouldn’t be perfect — to have you between his legs with your warm mouth on his cock, looking effortlessly beautiful while you swallow him whole. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I think that… I’d be a total idiot to say no,” he manages to stammer out, though words have long lost meaning by now.

The sight of his glazed-over eyes, warmed cheeks, and pink mouth makes you smile. He always looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen — like you're the infiniteness of space or a deep, deep ocean — something profound he desperately wants to discover.

“I feel like you deserve it, right?” you squint down at him, partially teasing. “For a job well done, you know?”

Eddie nods until he finds the words to respond. “Yeah… Right. Totally.”

“Do you wanna lie down? Or would you rather me get on my knees?” you ask him.

Eddie swears he’s dreaming. He isn’t quite sure how you manage to say something so sinful with such sincerity.

“It might be comfortable to stay like this, but most guys like the visual of girls on their knees better so…” 

There is no seductive lilt to your voice, no mischievous teasing to rile him up. It’s just a question of how he wants you, and it’s a very dizzying thought. Knowing he can have you however he wants makes his stomach all whirly and his vision start to swim like he just spun around ten times.

Eddie just blinks at you. His chocolate eyes and heavy lids flutter slowly like he’s trying to look at you through a layer of honey.

It takes him a second to answer because he doesn’t know what he wants — he rarely ever does, but now especially. How is a boy who wants you in every way imaginable supposed to pick only one?

“Uh, can you—” he starts before the words get caught in his throat. He grunts out a cough to clear it. “Could you, um… get on your, uh— your knees? Please?” 

You smile at how politely he phrases it. You don’t think anyone’s ever said please when asking you for a blowjob before.

Eddie fidgets awkwardly beneath you, and you’re not entirely sure why. You’re the one that just offered yourself up on a platter, totally and unequivocally happy to do whatever he wants. He’s not the one that should be embarrassed.

You nod down at him, still grinning like an idiot. “Sure. You can stay sitting if you want. Whatever you wanna do.”

“Okay…” Eddie mumbles in response.

He watches you with wide, inquisitive eyes as you maneuver off his lap and onto the rug beside your bed. When he swings his legs over the edge of it, you settle intently between them. His cock twitches at the sight of you below him, blinking up at him with sparkling eyes that almost look like they’re begging.

Your palms settle on his clothed thighs as your knees press into the woolen rug beneath you. Your chest warms when you’re finally level with his concealed cock. It makes your heart go silly, the sheer thought of what you’re about to do. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to suck dick before.

You wait patiently for him to make the first move — then you realize he doesn’t know how because he’s never had to before. Instead, he’s waiting for you to tell him what to do. With button eyes intently focused on your form and hands anxiously gripping the edge of the bed, he’s entirely prepared to move however you want him to.

“Take off your shirt, Eds,” you guide gently.

He listens to you without thinking twice. His fidgeting fingers reach for the fraying hem of his shirt to yank it up and over his head. He has to tug harder when the neck gets caught around his chin.

It isn’t the first time he’s been shirtless in front of you. Between changing and heated kisses, he’s had ample opportunity to get over his lingering insecurities.

For a while there, he found himself comparing his body to all your other more prominent escapades — the Billy Hargroves and the Steve Harringtons. The overtly masculine types with bodies that scream, ‘I peaked in high school.’

Eddie doesn’t look like them. He isn’t as toned or as thin. He’s got pudge on his belly and sparse hair on his sternum in the place of defined abs and pecks covered in layers of chest hair. He doesn’t look at all like those basketball douchebags that could easily model for whatever magazine basketball douchebags read — if they even know how to, that is.

But you don’t seem to care. You love on him anyway.

Even now, your eyes rake over his bare upper half with a gaze that isn’t anything short of hungry. You reach for his face to pull him down for a ravenous kiss that does little to quell your appetite. Your fingers tangle in the drying strands of his hair in the same way your tongues do. 

Eddie’s patient hands curl around the insides of your elbow as he keeps his lips obediently parted for you. He sighs into each of your eager kisses, more than content to let you swallow him whole.

You move down to his jaw and then to his neck. You nose his curls out of the way to sprinkle wet pecks to the warm skin there. You somehow manage to take your time and move with haste all at once — loving on all the places that need loving, but not lingering in one place for too long because there are too many of them to count.

The tip of your nose trails down his milky torso in time with your craving kisses. You press a final one between his ribcage, tongue darting out briefly just so you can hear his breath tremble before pulling away entirely. 

Eddie’s hands remain on each of your arms as your fingers curl around the hem of his plaid pajama pants. It makes his grip unknowingly tighten.

“Wait,” he blurts with his eyes squeezed shut. You tense almost instantly. “Can you— I mean, can we, just… you know…” he trails off, voice tight like he’s holding his breath. It’s probably because he is.

“What?” you pry with wide eyes and the sick feeling like you’ve done something horribly wrong. “Is this… Is this not okay? We don’t have to, like, do any of this if you don’t want. It was just a suggestion, Eds. We can just—”

“No!” he exclaims, eyes flying open to find your panicked ones. He shakes his wild head so vigorously down at you it makes his curls sway. He both wants to quell your worry and plead for you not to stop. “That’s not it. I— I want to, okay? I do. I really… really do. I just… You’re so far away like this…”

His words drip with a soft sincerity, his honeyed eyes even more so.

Your alarm curls into a gentle smile at his reassurance.

You haven’t had many firsts in a long, long time. Your first kiss was on the playground of Hawkins Middle. Your first handjob was in the locker room of the community pool not too long after. Your first time having sex was on a towel in the grass beside Tina Burton’s pool after her birthday party when everyone else had gone to bed.

All your stereotypical firsts happened lifetimes ago, but you’ve had a billion more with Eddie.

You can say with more confidence than you’ve ever had in your life that this is the first time a guy’s turned down a blowjob because you were too far away on your knees. 

“What?” the boy wavers at your silence. Your accompanying smile is somehow more frightening.

“Nothing,” you assure. Your brows pinch together as you smile up at him. “I just… I really don’t think we can be any closer than your dick in my mouth, Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. His cheeks go rosy at your quip. “You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you answer softly. “I know what you mean.”

You rise again, this time planting yourself on his thigh. Your knees settle on either side of his leg and dig into the mattress below you, on top of him all over again. The position is a familiar one. The only thing different is a few months’ time and a lack of Fast Times playing in the background.

Eddie tilts his chin to peer up at you. It’s easier this way, he realizes, to be below you and at your mercy rather than above you. Sometimes he thinks you were made to be on top of him like this.

“How about this,” you lilt with a raised brow. “I can just jerk you off—”

“Sounds perfect,” Eddie nods.

A giggle bubbles from your lips. “Let me finish, you weirdo. I can jerk you off, and you can just tell me when you’re about to finish.”

“Okay,” he answers right before his brows furrow. “Uh… why?”

“So you can come in my mouth,” you shrug like it’s obvious.

Your words knock the wind from Eddie’s lungs — it’s like you’ve punched him square in the stomach. Staring up at you through drooping eyelids, he swallows thickly, then nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s sounds… Yeah…”

You breathe out a laugh and lean closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. You couldn’t help yourself — he’s too damn adorable. Your fingers curl back around the hem of his pants and boxers, dragging them both down in one fell swoop to free his half-hard cock. You tuck the tops of them under his balls.

You’ve seen a lot of dicks in your time — long ones, short ones, thick ones, skinny ones — you could make a damn nursery rhyme of the variety you’ve seen. Eddie’s doesn’t particularly stand out.

It’s middling in length and in girth, not big but not too small either, with a width that won’t hurt to take but will stretch you out nonetheless. 

His cock is pale and a faint strawberry red at the tip. It’s the same rosy color his cheeks get when he blushes. There’s a vein that trails up from his balls and splits like a forking river up to his bulbous head. The bush at his pubic bone is fitting for a metalhead, but it looks like he’s taken a trimmer to the chestnut hair there sometime in the past month or so.

His dick isn’t ugly and it isn’t special, but it’s perfect anyway because it’s his.

“You’ve got a really pretty cock, Eds,” you praise in a low whisper.

He thinks you must be trying to talk dirty, but your gaze gets all shy — quirked brow, curled lip, twinkled eye — like you must really mean it. You seal your compliment with a soft, lingering peck.

“Can dicks be pretty?” he asks you, the question muffled against your mouth.

“Not usually,” you blurt before you realize.

Most guys are gross. They don’t shave because they don’t think they have to. Sometimes they smell bad, too, because they never really learned how to wash themselves. Either that, or they taste overtly of soap because they shoved a whole bar of the stuff down their pants right before.

Boys tend to care less about the situation their cocks are in. Only a handful you’ve been with really knew how to take care of themselves — Eddie for one, Steve for another, and Billy Hargrove on occasion.

“But your’s definitely is,” you promise.

“Um… thanks?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like a question; he just never thought that exact string of words would ever be spoken to him.

It’s a little bit surreal to receive a compliment on a part of you that most people wouldn’t typically notice — like your shoulders or lips or thighs. Eddie’s almost sure you’ve complimented each of those at some point or another.

You kiss him again, both because he makes it insanely hard not to and because you know that’s the only way to get him out of his head. He’ll never get hard if he’s worried about getting hard. So you keep kissing him, letting him focus on the pattern of your tastebuds and the curves of your cupid’s bow, while you happily do all the work.

Your fingertips trail up and down the underside of his cock. Your caresses are featherlight and meticulous along his warm, stiffening skin, all but coaxing him hard. 

When his cock is totally stiff and standing at attention at his stomach, you part from Eddie to bring your palm to your mouth. You spit a glob of saliva onto the center of it and let the added lubricant help your fist glide along his dick.

A stifled groan rumbles in Eddie’s throat as your fingers wrap fully around him. You’re only touching his cock, but it feels like you’ve embraced every inch of them.

The pleasure feels like static, like he’s just rubbed his socks along the carpet and he’s sizzling with the newfound electricity. He feels it in the tips of his toes and in the strands of his hair.

“Um, just to, uh… save myself the embarrassment,” Eddie cautions shakily. His voice is a few octaves higher than normal and audibly fragile. “I should probably urge you to lower your expectations—” He has to stifle a whine when you squeeze the base of his cock. “—Just a little bit.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m probably gonna come, like, really, really quickly,” he tells you and tries his best to laugh. It’s as shaky as the smile he gives you because you haven’t stopped touching him, even despite his warning. 

Your fist squeezes his cock, then rises again. You pause momentarily to swipe your thumb over his leaking tip before sliding back down again. It’s a slow and methodical cycle that’s going to make him burst far quicker than he’d like.

“That’s okay,” you assure with the shake of your head, brows furrowed because you don’t know why that’s such a band thing. You shrug. “Just means there’s more time for me to make you do it again.”

Eddie huffs out a sigh as his cock twitches in your fist, growing somehow harder at your words.

Your unhurried pace hastens in a way that’s still obviously disciplined. Your hand moves faster until you hear his breath start to race and see his milky white chest splotch with red. Then, when his rapid pants begin to tremble, your pace goes back to normal.

You push him to the very edge of the cliff and then pull him backward before he falls.

It’d be agonizing if it didn’t feel so damn good.

His eyes have long fluttered shut by now. You miss his chocolate syrup irises, but the look of pure serenity on his face is the kind of beautiful most people pay to see. His agape mouth, bared neck, rosy cheeks, and long lashes that tickle the apples of them deserve to be hung in the Louvre. 

It’s a sort of heavenly that everyone needs to admire in their lifetime, but one that belongs to only you. The sheer thought of someone else having him this way makes you angry, sparks raging orange embers just behind your sternum.

Eddie grows quiet. Suspiciously so. He isn’t moaning as much as he was before, and his chest is totally still, as though he were holding his breath. You feel his gentle grip on the outsides of your thighs start to harden. You figure the added tension helps him stay hushed. It’s less so accidental and more like he’s trying not to make noise.

“Let me hear you, Eds,” you urge in a whisper. “It’s okay. Go ahead and whine for me.”

The assurance barely spills from your mouth before he’s moaning for you. It’s a long, drawn-out whine that travels from his chest to his throat and out of his mouth, concluding in a fragile sigh.

The sound makes you double your efforts. You want him to make that noise again — you never want him to stop making that noise for you. So you squeeze harder, rise faster, and pay more attention to his rapidly reddening tip. 

You’re not entirely sure what Eddie likes the most. Most guys moan louder when you do something they like, but he seems to like all of it, so you don’t pay extra attention to one place. You keep jerking his cock, faster still, even when the muscles of your forearm start to burn.

“Fuck—” the boy sighs in a heavy moan, then cuts himself off with a pitiful whine.

He tries to lift his head and open his eyes to look at you, but he doesn’t have the strength to anymore. His head lolls back again when the pleasure begins to crescendo.

Sufficiently stupid, he can’t even find the words to warn you. “I’m— I’m close, sweetheart,” he slurs lowly. “I’m… Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His face screws up, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, as the feeling becomes almost unbearable. It’s all the warning you need.

Your fist holds onto the base of his cock as you dismantle his thigh and settle on the rug again. You don’t think twice before darting forward to lick the dribbles of pearly-white pre-come spilling from his reddened tip.

You wrap your lips around him totally, cheeks hollowing as you suck him there like he’s a piece of candy.

And Eddie dies. He passes away on the spot.

It’s the only way he can describe the feeling.

The crescendo of pleasure — that’s the life flashing before his eyes. The brief moment of numbness is the infinite void of death. The burst of ecstasy that spits from his cock in one, two, three loads is heaven.

It just has to be.

There can’t be a higher pleasure than the feeling of your mouth on his cock and the way you moan around him when his come spills on your tongue.

Eddie whines something pitiful. He loses all the previous inhibition that kept him so quiet he was too scared to breathe. One hand twists in the sheets while the other settles on the back of your hand, not pulling or tugging, just resting there as his hips buck off the mattress. He can’t tell if he’s running away from the intensity of his pleasure or if he never wants it to stop.

You don’t seem to mind that he doesn’t know.

You let his hips jerk wildly even when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and makes you gag. It does take everything in you not to laugh, however, when Eddie murmurs a fragile “sorry” through his cries.

And when his fingers knot in your hair, you don’t mind that either. You let him halfway fuck your mouth, even though you’re pretty sure he’s too far gone to notice that he’s fucking your mouth.

You don’t stop until he’s shuddering. Only when you’re sure he has nothing left to give you do you finally pull away from him. You leave a delicate kiss to the tip of his softening cock, no longer the angry red color it was moments ago. Eddie’s stomach clenches at the feeling of blatant sensitivity. His face scrunches as another feeble cry gets trapped in his throat.

You snap his boxers and pants back into place on his waist and rise.

“How was that for your first blowjob?” you ask him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Eddie just shakes his head in response. He flops back against the mattress, the springs bouncing under his weight, and tries to find the words to answer you.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that he just saw Heaven and Hell at the same time and that you were both God and the Devil. There isn’t any string of words in any language that could explain the otherworldly pleasure you gave him with nothing more than your hand and mouth, so he decides to stay quiet.

With his eyes still closed, he can hear you laughing quietly at him while you slither in at his side. You lie beside him on your stomach. When you’re finally in reach again, he peeks his eyes open and reaches for you, pulling you toward him for a searing kiss.

You think it might be the first time he’s ever done so without asking awkwardly first — as though there was a world where you would ever turn him down. He seems to understand that now, the way he kisses you without thinking twice about it.

His tongue swipes into your mouth. The both of you moan when he tastes the salty tang lingering there. Eddie doesn’t even realize that it’s him he’s tasting at first — that the heady bitter-sweetness on your tongue is his come.

It’s less so that he’s tasting himself, and more so that his taste is in your mouth at all, that makes him exhale a moan against you. The heavy breath of it fans against your cupid’s bow.

“Oh,” you hum through labored pants when you part again. “It was that good, huh?”

“Better,” he answers with a crooked smirk on his swollen pink mouth. He’s finally able to open his eyes and see more than a blur when his high starts to subside. “That was fucking… I mean, that was… fuck…”

His speechlessness makes you giggle. Your gaze stays locked on his profile when he turns to look up at the ceiling.

“That was exactly what I wanted. And, like, I didn’t even know I wanted it, you know?” he rambles. “How did you— How did you know? How do you always know?”

You’re not entirely sure what he means by that, and honestly, neither is he.

You just always know what he needs. You buy him a toothbrush because you know he’ll forget his, and when you touch him, you know exactly what he likes — even though he doesn’t even know what he likes.

It’s like you’re another half of him, and not in the stupid soulmate way everyone always thinks they’ve found. You’re an identical part of him that no one else can fit. He’s only whole with you — like a sandwich cut into triangles or halves of an orange. 

“Well, to be fair, I did ask Steve what a guy would want in this sort of situation,” you admit with a scrunched nose. “I just sort of went with what he said.”

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he turns his head to peer at you again. He blinks at you for a moment, dumbfounded, then sputters. “Wait— You’re telling me I have Steve to thank for that blowjob? Like Steve-Steve? As in Steve The Hair Harrington?”

His dramatics makes you giggle. You hide your grin behind your palm.

“Hope that doesn’t change anything, Eddie Spaghetti.”

You meant it as a joke, as in, please don’t think of Steve every time I give you a blowjob from now on, but your words settle something heavy on the both of you. 

Because you’ve had Steve The Hair Harrington, in more ways than most friends tend to have one another. You’ve had a lot of people like that. There are people in the world with parts of you that most only give away when they’ve found someone really, really special. 

You learned about that too late. And now you feel a lot less special.

Eddie hears all your dreadful, no-good thoughts because they’re also his own. 

He’s a virgin with the town slut, so he often feels like he’s drowning. It isn’t because of you, though. It’s never because of you. The number of people you’ve slept with doesn’t mean a damn thing to him; he just wants to measure up to them.

He wants to be the kind of man that sticks in your head after you’ve been with a thousand of them — the kind you can’t help but remember fondly because there hasn’t been another one like him.

He’s got no idea he’s already better than every person you’ve ever been with combined.

“No, sweetheart,” he assures with the shake of his head. The apple of his cheek rubs against the fabric of your comforter as he looks at you with eyes deeper than an infinite galaxy. His gaze holds all of its own stars, and each of them is named after you. “It doesn’t change a goddamn thing.”

[crystaldivination]

STOP AND ENJOY THE MAGIC 🪄

Your life in a bright light - what makes your life beautiful and how come you don’t see it?

PILE ONE PILE TWO PILE THREE

Sometimes we don’t see what we have in front of us and how wonderful all this is put together. If only we can take a better look at it and only focus on the present… So in this pick a card reading I want to shed a light on what’s so beautiful in your life and about what you can be so grateful for.

◟ପ my other readings • paid services • leave me a sprinkle of magic dust ✨💫

How to choose your pile? As always meditate or close your eyes before looking at each picture. Trust your intuition and pick out a picture you feel the most drawn to.

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

🤍 PILE ONE

Welcome to your pile, beautiful creature. So to me it seems like disappointments were present in your life and have shaped you to a point that it feels like it’s scary to believe in something new.

But don’t crumble to that fear. Don’t let it scare you from experiencing all the beautiful things that you haven’t known before. Life is all about discovering right? So all those feelings and the journey you made were part of it. Some are necessary for you to grow and some just happen to exist so that we can make something out of it. It’s in your hand to create. You have a very deliberate and free spirited soul that is waiting to go on adventures again. Use that to your advantage. You never know what could happen. Even if you trip you can always stand up again but rest assure because all you have learned so far is of use to you. You’d know when to go forward and when to be careful. What a wonderful gift, don’t you think? Everything has it good and seemingly bad side so choose wisely. You can be the one who makes the choice. What you can be grateful for is this and also your ability to go beyond. You have people who are believing in you and even look up to you for the person you are today. Don’t let it go to waste. Stand straight and firm. Be proud of who you are and what you’ve accumulated until now whether that be on a personal or material level. You’re so inspiring to me, pile 1!

🤍 PILE TWO

Welcome to your pile, beautiful creature. To me it seems like you’ve been through a lot. You must’ve faced a lot of delays and having to be patient about things but remember nothing lasts forever especially the things that we want to break free from. There are always new beginnings so have faith in that.

Don’t take life too seriously. Go with the flow and enjoy the journey. You might be someone who is like a perfectionist in a way or someone who just likes to go and do things in order. But you know to exist is to live and experience. Take things as they are while adapting and changing it for the better. You don’t need to always buckle up your seatbelt preparing for the worst. Give yourself a break. Don’t go all in when it’s not necessary or needed. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Allow yourself to be in the moment. You’re a diligent and happy soul that is full of life waiting to feel the best in doing something that gives you true joy. Channel this energy of yours again deep in you and create something wonderful out of this. With this purposeful intention and power you can be anything you want to be. Don’t restrict yourself with your self criticism. Be free and let yourself see a different side of things in life to gain another perspective on everything or anyone you thought to be out or not of use. What you can be so grateful for is your determination and ability to persist. You have beautiful and helpful people who are there to support you at any time. Ask for help or lean on someone when you feel like it. I’m so proud of you for coming this far and believe in yourself, pile 2!

🤍 PILE THREE

Welcome to your pile, beautiful creature. It’s hard to keep up right? Especially nowadays in this time and age. This society is making you doubt yourself even to the point of losing sight of your dreams. You might be confused about what you want but you know what you need right now is peace. Only so you can calm down and ground yourself to gain focus again. It’s not that you’re incapable, it’s just the outside noise that’s clouding your mind at the moment but you’ll come back soon.

Stop and observe. Slow down to see and take in all the things that surround you. Laugh again, go see the sunset you like so much. Enjoy the little things in life to feel whole and alive again. Life is not a race and you’re not competing against anyone. You have your own missions and goals and your own lane with your own speed to do the things you want to do in your life. Ignore all the people and things that are telling you what to do. Ask yourself what is that that you want and remind yourself of what you used to enjoy. Do the things you are good at and most importantly what you truly want. You can get out of your comfort zone to try out new things as well. Focus on what is important to you. Contemplate whether you do this for your own sake or is it just to satisfy others. You’re so talented and have so much potential. It’s time you realize that. This is also what you can be so grateful for. Take your time and let your inner child shine again. There are many people who can help you connect to your creativity. Surround yourself with like-minded people who can uplift you and give you inspiration. Shine brighter, shine like you’ve never before, pile three!

PLS VOTE FOR MY NEXT GAME HERE IF YOU'D LIKE 🥥🦢🌸

ਊ Thank you for reading. Hope you like it!! Leave a feedback, like & reblog are highly welcomed! Have a lovely day <3

© 2023 crystaldivination ── all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, edit, alter, or redistribute my work. Plagiarism in any form is prohibited.

[yourlocaltrashpandaa]

The Journalist

heizou x fem!journalist!reader

oneshot

fandom: genshin impact

For more genshin content: Masterlist

Summary: when a young detective takes an interest in a young journalist from another world

~***~

He always had his eyes on you well he has his eyes on everyone and everything around him. When the Traveler, Aether came to Inazuma, Heizou found himself interested with you, Aether’s companion. He noticed how strange you were from your clothing to the brown leather cover of your journal that you carried around everywhere you went. Sure, Aether was strange too, him being an outsider like you but you were little bit more interesting to Heizou.

It was a clear afternoon in Inazuma City and Heizou noticed you, alone with the blonde traveler by your side. You were sitting on a bench with your leather covered notebook open, pen in hand scribbling down something. It intrigued him, he wanted to know what you could be writing in there.

He grinned as he made his way over to you, his fingers underneath his chin as he watched you write.

“Hello there.” He said.

You jumped a bit, startled by Heizou’s sudden appearance next to you. “H-Hi.” You stuttered out quickly.

“Pardon me, I didn’t mean to startle you, I just noticed you here alone without your blonde companion of yours.” He said.

“Blonde companion,” You said tilting her head to the side. “Oh you mean Aether?” You asked.

“That I do. He’s quite interesting though I have to say you are the one who piqued my curiosity the most. You’re just as strange as the Traveler.” Heizou said with a grin.

“Strange? Me? How come?” You asked.

“Well, I don’t mean it in a bad way, I assure you,” Heizou said. “I just can’t help but notice the way you dress as well as the notebook you carry. So do tell, what’s it for?” He asked.

“Oh, my notebook. It’s just a journal really. Not much to it. Is it really that strange?” You asked.

“You’re always writing something down in there. Worried you’d forget something?” Heizou asked throwing in a slight joke in his words. His smile held a lot of intense interest as his eyes shifted from the notebook then to you.

You tilt your head to the side. “Not necessarily… I just like writing things down. Anything interesting or new I’m experiencing or looking at and I… I mean I’m from another world I never experienced anything like this before,” You said. “Just writing things down, sure out of habit it just makes me feel happy.”

Heizou smiles as he nods at your explanation. “So, what you’re saying is it’s just something you like doing,” He said. “Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. Just never met anyone who does such a thing. Though I guess what you said is true. You are an outlander like the Traveler yet you’re so different from others as well as one another.”

“I assume you find that interesting, don’t you.” You said.

“Right you are,” Heizou said. “I’m quite intrigued by you. So do tell, why write?” He asked.

“I’m a journalist in my world, I write stories about the world around us. From politics to new opens of stores. People with interesting lives are my favorite.” You said.

Heizou laughed at her enthusiasm. “I see. Well, you might make new friends in Fontaine if you ever make it there. I heard Fontaine has many journalists there.” He said.

“Really? I guess being a journalist isn’t a rare thing. I’ll keep that in mind.” You said.

“Excellent! Now then, I should be off, got commissions to attend to and cases to crack. I hope to see you again soon, Miss Journalist.” Heizou said bidding his goodbye to you as he walks off into the city.

“What a strange guy…” You said as you go back to the journal yet you smiled at the thought of seeing him again.

[alwaysonf1]

wtf just happened?

Pairing: Charles LeClerc x Hamilton!OC

Genre: Slice of Life; Fluff

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Mild "slander" of French speakers. Language. (Mild)

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: N/A

“Iman.”

Nothing.

“Iman.”

More silence.

“Iman Marie!”

Ignoring the shouting was her plan, but that was when it was from just outside her room. That last one was right in her ear, making her jump and then without looking, she uses the pillow next to her to hit Logan in the head.

The man truly took annoying little brother to heart. And just like any sister she wanted to kill him. Not kill him dead, but just enough so he would leave her alone. Even in the midst of her angst she didn’t want the idiot dead, she would sadly miss him very much. 

“Ow!” he says.

“You should have left me alone,” she mumbles into her other pillow.

“No, we have plans. And you moping around like a dork isn’t going to change that. I don’t even know why since you wanted this.”

Iman pushes herself up a little and turns her head at a speed that should hurt her neck. Her eyes narrow on her friend who looks annoyed and amused as he rubs his face. Her accuracy clearly worked in her favor. However, she can’t find it in herself to be happy about that.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” she whines.

“Because you’re being dramatic.” Logan rolls his eyes as he says it and moves out of range for her to throw anything at him.

Not that she plans to throw anything else at him. Iman can’t find the energy to attack him for what he said. Partly because she knows it’s true, even if she does glare at him for it. 

There are few times in life she’s felt more like a big baby than now. She’s capable of handling her emotions. Lewis always made it clear that she was allowed and should always accept how she’s feeling because those feelings aren’t wrong, but that she has to temper her reactions. To be fair most of that had to do with her wanting to fight a racist or anyone who had some reach of a comment to say about him, but it wasn’t the only place he ever applied that kind of thing. He always said he knows the influence he’d have on her life and he wanted to ensure that she didn’t have to learn some of the hard parts like he did. Which she appreciated.

But goodness it didn’t help at the moment.

Charles Leclerc kissed her a little less than twenty-four hours ago. Something she’d hope would happen sooner rather than later. Something she was going to try to make happen herself because she was tired of playing whatever game it was that meant she withheld her feelings for the man. And because everyone who knew her was annoying and pestering her.

Now she’s finally experienced it, and her reaction was to play it cool in his face and then put her phone on Do Not Disturb so he couldn’t reach her to talk about it. Something she knows has happened because he’s reached out to Lewis, Logan, Alex and Lily to make sure she’s okay.

More than anything she wishes the urge to vomit stemmed from thinking that Charles wants to tell her that he regrets the kiss. That it meant nothing and that he wants to continue being friends. Or not friends at all. But she doesn’t have that voice in her head. Instead, the one she’s dealing with focuses on what comes next. There are obvious answers, but something about it is stressing her out.

Something she’s wanted for a while now lacks the joy it deserves and it’s driving her up a wall. 

She’s acting like Charles. She’s not an overthinker and yet that fucking Monégasque has her in shambles. How dare a French speaking man do this to her at all.

A pillow slams into her face and her head whips back and then forward at a speed that could probably induce whiplash. Logan is sitting on her bed with a pillow in his hands. It’s angled back like he plans to do it again, but then he sets it down.

“What the fuck, Logan?” she shouts.

“Mate, you were zoning out.”

“So, you hit me with a pillow?”

“You hit me first!”

Her hand twitches and moves toward another pillow and he reassumes the position prepared to attack her too.

“I didn’t believe you.”

“I told you.”

The voices draw her attention from her stare down with Logan to her doorway. In it stands Lewis and Sebastian. Iman is familiar with the man and feels comfortable around him, but his presence confuses her so much that the urge to throttle Logan leaves her.

“Hi Seb,” both her and Logan say.

“Hello. Did we walk into a war?” he asks.

“No.”

Lewis rolls his eyes. “Then what did we walk into?”

“Her being stupid.”

Both pillows fly without a word and it’s a flurry of them hitting each other and failing to dodge. It only lasts for what’s probably seconds and both of them have made it off the bed and onto the floor with 

“Okay, separate kids.”

Like creepy twins they go from glaring at each other to Lewis and again he rolls his eyes at them. Iman and Logan put the man through a lot, so he’s used to their brand of nonsense.

Sebastian is barely concealing a laugh as he watches all this and Iman fights not to turn her irritation on him. She’d laugh too if she was watching this mess.

Lewis claps his hands and like well trained dogs they release their pillows and sit on her bed. She’s still glaring at her brother, but she’s toned it down.

“You stop hitting her with pillows. You know how she gets.” He points to Logan.

“She started it. I was just defen…” A single look from Lewis shuts him up and Logan huffs, but nods.

“And you.” As he says it all three sets of eyes are intently on me. “Pull it together, yeah. The first few hours were fine, but this is a bit much. I won’t tell you how to feel, but you’re happy about it, he’s happy about it. Stop being a dunce and do something about it. Man is blowing up my phone.”

“Mine too,” Seb chimes in.

“You texted him first,” Lewis says.

A grin that Iman considers evil, because it’s only ever present when he’s up to no good, spreads across Sebastian's face. The man likes to be in the know and he’s fond of his former teammate, so his self-insertion isn’t surprising in the least. 

However, as quickly as that look of mischief comes, it goes. Sebastian is still smiling, but there’s a seriousness to his demeanor that makes Iman a little uneasy.

“Don’t hurt his feelings or yours.”

Then they’re both gone.

Iman is unsure of what to do or say, so she just sits there. A million thoughts bubble inside of her head, but she blocks them all out. Lingering on even one of them could lead her back to where she was minutes ago, and Lewis is right. He’s often right.

Logan exhales. “You know I just want you happy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So be happy. You’ve been pining after the guy for a while now. He’s finally made it clear he’s ready and available. That he feels something for you, even if you don’t fully know what that is yet. Don’t play around and overthink it. You’ll kick yourself for it later. Hell, I know you’re doing it now.”

She nods but says nothing. Still doesn’t know what to say, but she does lean her head down on Logan’s shoulder. The gesture is one of the usual casual affection, but also a silent thank you. He knew what to say and she knew that before he’d even shown up at her place, thus her ignoring his pestering to begin with. Being stubborn is on brand for her. 

He pats her head and then abruptly he stands up, leaving her barely any time to adjust herself so she doesn’t fall over. The glare is back on her face, but Logan just smiles as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Now get up and get ready. We’re already running late and you’re the one who begged me to come try that new place with you.” 

She rolls her eyes, but nods.

Logan heads toward the door, but then turns around. He tosses something at her, and she flinches a little, but is calmed by her phone landing on her legs. 

“Oh, and text him back.”

Then he too is gone. Probably to raid the fridge.

Iman’s gaze doesn’t leave the phone in her lap even as a retort is on the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t hate when Logan’s right, however when she’s in a mood it can be annoying. And the addition of him, Lewis, and Sebastian Vettel, all calling her out takes it to another level.

They’re right and she wants to stop feeling like such a mess over it. All these emotions are overwhelming, and the real problem is she can’t isolate any of them so they can be tackled one by one. Hell, she can’t even get them down to pairs.

What is obvious to her is that she’s happy and hopes that a step has been taken in the right direction. That this will hopefully lead to her no longer having to deal with getting her hopes up just for another girl to show up on his arm. That phrasing makes it seem like it’s constant and he’s never been single for a second between girlfriends, but even when there are months between them it always feels like it was nothing more than a day for her.

A soft scream escapes her lips, and she falls back onto the bed. She’s overthinking again and it’s close to sending her into a spiral. The last thing she needs is that, especially when he’s part of the summer vacation group. This putting a damper on things is out of the question and she refuses to be awkward like some little kid dealing with their crush.

With a sigh she sits up, tosses the phone on the bed, and gets up. Without a second glance she walks into her bathroom and closes the door.

####

Charles stares at his phone like he’s done for the past few hours. He tried to tell himself that Iman drank quite a bit the night before so she might still be recovering. Or that she wants a chill day and is away from her phone, something he’s witnessed first-hand. Hell, he’s even thrown in that maybe she’s just busy despite knowing that Williams refuses to call in their people on their days off without an emergency and both drivers have told him there hasn’t been one and that she’s fine.

Which means she’s intentionally not responding to him. And he is trying so hard not to seem desperate that the possibility of her regretting kissing him is all he can think about. Something he’s reassured himself that isn’t true. Something his brothers and friends have told him is a dumb idea to even entertain. But he can’t help but wonder if he fucked up when she won’t respond to him.

As he sits there, he tries to tell himself he needs to get ready for the early dinner he promised a group of his friends that he’d attend. But he can’t break his eyes away. Which he thinks is fucking ridiculous. That he is yet again being ridiculous.

So, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Then without opening them he gets up from the couch and turns away from it and his phone. His eyes open and he takes a step. His phone makes a high-pitched sound and vibrates like crazy.

Like a man possessed he turns around and snatches it up. It’s unlocked before he can truly think to do it and then his eyes are glued to the message, his body sitting without him telling it to.

Air leaves his lungs and Charles melts into his couch. His entire body relaxes, and he feels the corners of his lips inch upward, something they hadn’t done since he realized Iman was ignoring his attempts to reach out.

His friends would never let him hear the end of it if he ever admitted how much that simple greeting did for him.

[sanjisblackasswife]

headcanons about the monster trio being jealous? 😏

Monster Trio Being Jealous (SFW/NSFW)

Ft. Sanji, Zoro, Luffy

CW: Ace Spoilers in Luffy, Oral Sex, Semi-public sex, Fingering, Riding, Luffy is OOC again mb, Edging, Overtsimulation

Sanji

SFW

Very fucking annoying

He gets pouty, very clingy, and unnecessarily protective

He doesn’t like seeing men approach you. It’s already an issue when Zoro—-his damn crew mate—who is around you 24/7 but now when you guys go to an island he has to “protect” you from other men as well.

Let’s say you and him were out shopping and he went to look at some food at a vendor beside a boutique you were in. Okay, now let’s say you drop something and a man came to pick it up for you. Sanji sees this because this jackass has a 6th sense of knowing a man is near you and comes in to kick him

“Are you fucking kidding me Sanji..”

“HE WAS TOUCHING YOU!”

“HE WAS PICKING UP A SHIRT I DROPPED! PLUS LOOK AT HIM HE’S LIKE 17?!”

“SO?!”

“I’M IN MY 20s!”

Most of y’all arguments are based on his jealously which is usually the first and only time Sanji is very stubborn with you denying that he is jealous. So what you can do to fix the situation is just shun him for an hour he cracks and apologizes Everytime.

NSFW

You both are heading back to the Sunny from nearly being arrested after Sanji ends up fighting the guy that also happened to be a Marine. When Sanji grabbed your hand suddenly and hit the corner landing you both in a small alleyway.

“San—MMM!”

He began kissing and sucking all over your lips like a true man in need.

The thing about Sanji is he feeds off of knowing he is the only person that can make you feel good, but when he feel challenged

Or moreso jealous

His touches are more desperate , he whines so much in your mouth for reassurance, “Please please tell me im the only man for you.”

It’s almost like his questions are rhetoric because he keeps moving his tongue in your mouth.

“San—!”

Unless you stop him he will prove on his knees to you, by throwing your thigh over his shoulder and suckle on your clit

He nearly cries inside your pussy, licking and telling you how much you mean to him, pleading you don’t leave him, and that he wants to be the only man to make you happy.

“I can only eat this pussy, right? Nobody else..”

You better tell him the truth fast before he fucks you against that alleyway wall.

Luffy

(AU where Ace Lives)

Is not a very jealous person like Sanji or Zoro, but The first time you every experienced it with Luffy was a treat.

You finally met Luffy’s brother Ace and you both hit it off so well. When you seen him again back in Wano it was like you both couldn’t separate from each other.

You had a small past fling with Luffy’s brother and though you both agreed it didn’t mean anything it didn’t stop wither of you from gravitating to the other.

And Luffy noticed this, and it made him unintentionally grumpy. He was more distracted, quiet, and focused on your actions.

Your dumbass don’t notice this, he knew about his brother and your past, but he never really cared until now. Why were you laughing with him so much? Why are you hugging him for so long?

Luffy didnt understand but he had a sudden urge to literally be on your back like a Koala. You and Ace didn’t mind it, yall assumed it was Luffy being Luffy until you grabbed Ace’s hand and your boyfriend slapped it down.

“What’s wrong with you, lil bro?”

“Nothing. I wanna see Y/N real quick.”

Nsfw

“I-i—!?”

“Hm? Why are you suddenly so…touchy with my brother?”

Words wasn’t even able to be spoken correctly out your mouth. You’ve just came and Luffy’s fingers haven’t let up. His thighs spread yours apart in front of your own mirror, his eyes barely visible, but you knew they were dark

“Hey.” Luffy spats out against your ear giving your clit a firm slap, you hiss out of embarrassment seeing your arousal splash against the tip of his fingers. “Look at me, please.”

He kept repeating the question and with each “i dont know” answer was a faster rub against your clit, or an additional finger to scissor you.

It was so odd to see Luffy not as loud as he usually is during sex. He was more focused on making you cum again and again and again mumbling how much better he is at this then anybody else to make you feel good.

“….’fuckin’ mine.”

Was the most you’d hear mumbled and groaned into your sweaty hot neck as he fucked himself into you.

Luffy didn’t even care to acknowledge his jealous behavior after he was done with you. He left to bring back some food to eat beside you as you laid on the bed a cum filled mess after being overstimulated by his fingers, tongue, and dick.

You ask if him he acted the way he did he just smiles at you and shrugs, “I just wanted to show you some love!”

Zoro

SFW

His form of jealously is being a little pissy bitch.

Like Sanji, but he’s passive aggressive towards you.

He will be very in denial about being jealous so don’t even bring it up.

He doesn’t stop acting that way until he gets over it.

Whenever that may be.

He has some issues verbally expressing himself towards you and you knew it before yall started dating so you began to know how to read his body language as a way of communicating with him.

Today must have been an off day though.

All day, absolutely all day you spent your time in the kitchen with sanji, talking with sanji, complimenting sanji. Everything that ero cook was doing you made sure to acknowledge it.

And zoro noticed.

When you finally have some alone time with Zoro he doesn’t even talk to you, just hums and grumbles. You noticed something was wrong but didnt care to ask until he walks over towards you as you’re bent over in the Crows Nest

NSFW

“Does that—fuck—stupid cook fuck you like this too?!”

“N-no!”

It was almost embarrassing how you was pressed against the cold wall, his pace not letting up. It started off so sweet. Him being so needy , kissing you, mumbling incoherent words on your skin and clingy up until he bites your neck.

Zoro manhandles you a bit more, not too much to where you’ll be in actual pain, but he isn’t afraid to move your body around in any position he desires.

“P-please ! Wait! Keep going!”

He lets out an airy chuckle looking down at your lewd damped body on his workout bench, lazily flicking his index finger on your sensitive clit. He has been so mean pulling out to stroke his cock in front of you right before you cum.

He even came on you instead.

You beg and plead at his teasing and edging up until you finally put two and two together when he says,

“Keep going? Like how you kept going back to that stupid ass cook to hang out with all day? Want me to go get him. Show him how much you need some cock?”

You didnt even realize from the beginning he was doing all this out of jealousy. Once you begin to apologize, he starts to feel a liittlllee bad and lets you finally cum on his dick.

Rest assured though, once you wake up out of your boyfriend’s arm you’re ganna give him an earful on him being a jealous baby instead of coming to speak to you about how he actually felt.