#i get described at work as bubbly and easy going

[everony]

One of the things I think about sometimes is that time I told my nepotism manager, in much nicer terms, to fuck around and find out if he wants to make me mad again. Then went above his head and tattled on him to his wife, the owner, and his cousin, the other owner, telling them exactly what I told him and that it wasn't an empty threat.

He backed off and pretty much leaves me alone bow lmao

[daddy-dotcom]

Bang My Line

Summary: You're Penelope Garcia's first intern, and you learn a lot more from her than just her technical skills.

Rating: M

Words:4, 357

Warnings: Fluff, typical canon violence mentions, smut ;)

*reblogs or comments r much appreciated*

Read my newest fic Scents and Sensibility out now 🤭

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The first day was a blur. It was scary enough to completely change career paths, but working for the FBI was an entirely different beast. Between what seemed like hundreds of background checks and interviews, I finally made it to my first day. Granted, I would just be an intern for now, but hopefully this would lead to a permanent position as a technical analyst. I waited in the lobby for Penelope Garcia, the woman who would be my mentor for the duration of my time with the BAU. We had spoken over the phone and even texted back and forth a bit, but this would be my first time meeting in person.

“There she is! My shiny new intern.”

“Hi you must be Agent Garcia,” I replied with my arm outstretched. She took it and gave what was the most enthusiastic hand shake I’ve ever seen.

“Oh honey, I’m way too fun for you to call me agent. Call me Penelope.” I shook my head in agreement and she led me towards the elevator.

“I know I gave you a rundown of the team via our text messages, but be prepared for them to ask you a million questions. You’re my first ever intern and they’re dying to meet the newest member of the team.”

“Duly noted, just know I’m going to be doing the same to you Penn because I’m a little out of my element here.”

“hmm Penn, I like the sound of that.”

As the elevator doors opened, I could see the rest of the team gathered around a desk, too focused on their own conversation to notice me and Penelope.

“Everyone, please welcome my first and only intern (Y/N).”

The man in the crisp black suit stood up first to greet me and introduced himself as Agent Aaron Hotchner.

“Penelope has not shut up about her new intern so it’s nice to finally put a pretty face to the name. I’m SSA Derek Morgan.”

I let out a bashful chuckle as I shook Morgan’s hand. Penelope did warn me that he could be a bit of a flirt. I was then greeted by a blonde woman who goes by JJ and an older man named Agent Rossi.

“Don’t tell me you write in pink sparkly gel pen too?” he jokingly asked.

I smiled and shook my head no, before being greeted by Agent Emily Prentiss.

“Don’t mind Rossi, it’s always nice to have another woman on the team to keep these boys in check.”

She gestured towards Morgan and the other agent beside her, who I can only assume is none other than Dr. Spencer Reid.

Penelope had described him as quote “Steven Hawking trapped in a young Bill Nye’s body.” What I didn’t expect was for him to actually be attractive. Sure, Agent Morgan and even Agent Hotchner were easy on the eyes, but Spencer Reid was strikingly handsome in the most unassuming way. The soft golden waves that covered the top of his head combined with those puppy dog eyes were enough to remind me how nervous I was to be joining the team.

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)” he said as he took my hand. My palms were beginning to sweat, but the steadiness of his firm grasp eased my nerves.

“Likewise,” was all I could manage to say. He held my gaze for what felt like both a moment and an eternity, before releasing my hand.

“Well, (Y/N), let’s get you briefed on your first case,” said Penelope.

I followed Penelope into the briefing room and decided to sit in the seat closest to the screen so that I could take notes on her presentation. To my surprise, Spencer took the seat next to me. As if I wasn't already a nervous wreck, his close proximity to me was going to make my writing even more illegible than usual. Still, I could get used to sitting next to the most handsome member of the team.

As Penelope wrapped up her presentation and the rest of the team departed on the jet, the bubbly blonde gave me a little tour of her office. Rossi wasn't joking about Penelope's love of glitter gel pens, and her desk was adorned with unicorn paperweights and mermaid statues.

"This is your workspace over here, (Y/N), although you'll mostly be assisting me for the first couple of weeks. Feel free to decorate your desk with as many unicorns as you please," she said.

The first hour or so of work was mostly getting situated in my new workspace, but we soon got our first call from the team, and it was from the man himself, Derek Morgan. Penelope pressed the button to answer the phone and his voice immediately came through the speaker for both of us to hear.

"It's your babygirl and her babygirl in training, what do ya need hot stuff?" said Penelope.

"Hey mama, I need you to look into Walter Price's bank activity for the last few months, see if there were any suspicious withdrawals or transfers."

"Anything for you gorgeous"

"Thanks babygirl, I'll be expecting your call back soon."

I sat with my mouth slightly ajar, looking over at Penelope dumbfounded.

"Do you talk to everyone on the phone that way?" you asked.

"Nope, just my sweet lover Derek Morgan."

I paused for a second before asking my follow up question, "so are you two like...in a relationship?"

"Only in my dreams," Penelope said with a wink. I let out a laugh because this whole situation surprisingly made me more at ease in my new job.

"As your intern, I guess it's my job to learn how to answer the phone like you?" I said with a wicked smile.

"Oh no my dear, at least, not yet. We've got a long way to go before you get to my level. And of course you'll have to find your own gorgeous man to talk dirty to, Morgan is already taken."

That definitely wouldn't be a problem, I already had the most gorgeous man on the team in mind.

I spent the next few weeks listening in on Penelope's phone calls and looking up information for her. I even got to help her present a new case to the team. After my first week, the team took me out to celebrate surviving my first case with the BAU. Even though I had become more comfortable around everyone on the team, I couldn't shake the butterflies Reid gave me whenever we interacted. However, I did notice that I was much more confident over the phone than in person. I tried to conceal my blossoming crush on Spencer as best I could, but I couldn't help but be the slightest bit sweeter to him whenever he was the one who called us.

During my second month of internship, we had a particularly hard time tracking down an unsub. Penelope was getting way too many names and she called Spencer to help her narrow down the list.

"There were traces of chlorine and calcium hypochlorite on the body which are chemicals commonly used in pool maintenance, Garcia narrow it down to men over 40 in the area who own pools or work in pool maintenance," he said.

"One name! It's Michael Dunlop, he works as a freelance pool maintenance man and, ooh get this, he hasn't responded to any jobs since the first murder on June 11th."

"Sending the address to your phones right now!" I interjected.

"Thanks (Y/N),"

"Anything for you, cutie" I said, with a sudden burst of confidence.

As I hung up with a satisfied look on my face, Penelope glanced over at me looking smug as ever.

"Cutie huh? That's a new one," Penelope said, "I knew I'd rub off on you sooner or later." And she was right. I started incorporating more color into my work wardrobe and I even brought my tiny stuffed cow to sit at my desk.

"You said I had to find my own gorgeous man to flirt with on the phone...so I did."

"I knew it! You have a crush on our genius boy-wonder!" She was positively giddy just by the thought of it. "I mean he's always sitting next to you and looking over at you when he thinks no one is noticing. You would think in a room full of profilers that I wouldn't be the only one to notice, and yet here we are."

It never occurred to me that my little crush might actually be reciprocated. Spencer was always a bit socially awkward, so I just assumed that he was the same way with me. I never once thought that he was actually as nervous to talk to me as I was to him. This fact somehow boosted my confidence even more, and I decided to have some fun with Spencer over the phone.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Cutie huh?" Morgan asked the blushing boy. Spencer was used to Penelope teasing him, but this was different. He had been harboring a small crush on their newest intern for the past month, and when she flirted with him over speakerphone for Morgan, of all people, to hear, Spencer couldn't help but turn as red as a tomato.

Of course, being a profiler, Morgan took notice of Reid's crimson cheeks. "Call me crazy but I think she likes you, pretty boy."

"O-of course not, she's just copying the way Garcia talks to you," Spencer stuttered.

"That may be true, the only difference is that you have a little crush yourself."

Spencer didn't bother trying to lie since he knew Morgan would see right through him, so he just mumbled something about Prentiss and Hotch needing them at the location (Y/N) sent.

---------------------------------------------------------

It was a lot easier to flirt with Spencer when he wasn't physically in front of me. When we were in the office together, we'd shoot each other smiles from across the room or he'd bring me an extra coffee in the morning. But when he was out in the field and I was back at my desk at the BAU, it was a whole different game. I tried my hardest to make him blush over the phone any chance I got, and it seemed to be working. After Penelope found out about my little crush, she decided to play matchmaker and slip Spencer my work phone number to call me instead for information. For the first time, I heard my phone ring instead of Penelope's and I immediately answered.

“Give it to me good baby, what do you need from me?” I replied. I knew it was Spencer since he was the only one who had my number.

"Hey (Y/N)" he said, and I swear I could hear him smiling through the phone. I could tell he had become more comfortable with our one-sided phone flirting over the past month. "I need you to look up all of Dr. Gupta's patients at the psychiatric clinic for the past 3 months, see if any of them drive a black van."

"You got it, gorgeous. If you need anything you know you can always bang my line."

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“You have (Y/N)’s number?” JJ asked.

Spencer looked puzzled, “Yea.. don’t we all?”

“I think it’s just you pretty boy” Morgan quipped, as he chuckled and gave him a pat on the back.

Spencer had grown fond of (Y/N)'s phone flirtation, but he was too embarrassed to return the favor in front of his colleagues. He loved watching her walk around the office in her high heels, trying to keep up with Penelope's fast pace. He knew brief glances and morning coffees weren't going to cut it anymore, he had to do something before her internship was over. So he decided to call her on his way home from working the case.

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The team had just finished a case and were on the plane headed back to Quantico. Penelope had plans so she left me to wrap things up in the office. Just as I was making my way towards the door, my phone began to ring. Confused, I picked up the phone and listened to see if it was a misdial.

"Hey babygirl."

I nearly choked when I realized who was speaking. My body involuntarily shivered and my heart quickened its pace. This "babygirl" hadn't come from Morgan, it was Spencer on the other line.

"Hi Spencer! What's up I thought you guys wrapped up the case?" I asked in a confused tone.

"We did, but I thought I'd call you without everyone else around." His voice sounded sultry and silky smooth, unlike his usual rapid rambling, and it made it so much harder for me to speak. "We should be landing in about twenty minutes, stay in your office and I'll meet you there."

"Okay, I'll be waiting here, handsome."

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Those twenty minutes were the longest twenty minutes of my life. I knew Spencer had a crush on me as well, but what could he possibly want to meet with me for? Was he going to ask me to stop flirting with him on the phone? Was he going to ask me out? Was he trying to make out with me? God I secretly hoped it was the latter...

Just as I had been getting lost in my own thoughts, I heard the familiar voices of the rest of the team down the hall. I knew Spencer would be walking into my office any minute, so I nervously fixed my hair and applied the lipgloss Penelope gave me.

"Hey babygirl," said the tall man standing in the door frame.

"Hi Spencie," I said with a smile as I called him the nickname I lovingly gave him, which I'm sure he secretly hates. I couldn’t help but grin since the word “baby girl” still seemed so foreign coming from his mouth. I stood up to meet his gaze as he slowly made his way over to my desk.

"I know you've been teasing me these past couple weeks," he said as we closed the gap between our bodies. I would say our faces were inches from each other, but he was impossibly tall and my face didn't reach past his chest, "but now its my turn to tease you," he said as he brought his hands behind my ears and pressed his lips onto mine. He was gentle and tentative at first, but I passionately pressed my lips back against his to deepen the kiss. I ran my hands through his gorgeous locks and began to tug. We quickly became a breathless mess and I couldn't help the feeling building in the pit of my stomach. His hands traveled down to my waist and he gingerly pulled me closer. He was both hesitant and passionate, not quite sure if he should act on his instincts. He pulled back for just a second to speak:

"I know you only have a few weeks left with us, but would you like to get coffee sometime?" he asked with those same puppy dog eyes that made me fall for him in the first place.

"Oh Spencie, we're a bit past coffee don't you think?" I said with blushy cheeks. "Let's get dinner sometime, I'm free any night except Tuesday, I have Zumba class with Penelope."

"She really has influenced you a lot hasn't she?" he said, making a mental note of the pink scrunchie in my hair.

"In more ways than one hot stuff."

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Over the next few weeks, I spent my days phone flirting with Spencer at work and my nights making out with him in my office or eating Chinese take-out in his apartment. No one on the team, not even Penelope, knew about our brewing workplace romance, and we intended to keep it that way until I was hired permanently. However, that didn't stop him from flirting back on our calls. I was on my last week of internship and I was now the only one who Spencer called when he needed information. Spencer and I had agreed to take it slow, but our most recent calls had me desperate to find out what else he was packing besides the gun strapped to his hip. Just then, a call interrupted my wandering thoughts and I immediately picked up knowing it was him.

“Dayton Ohio you're on the air" I answered in my sexiest voice possible.

"I'd like to make a request," Spencer replied.

"You can request anything you want, doctor" I could hear him chuckle behind the phone before telling me what he actually needed.

"I need you to look up a marketing firm by the name of Firsthand Media and see if they have any connections to the colleges of the first set of victims."

"I'm on it, sugar" I answered.

"Oh and one more favor, look up the words beautiful and brilliant and see what you can find."

"Look at that, it's me"

"You're the best (Y/N)"

I could feel Penelope's eyes on me before she turned around and said

"I've never been more proud."

The rest of the day was filled with calls from the other agents to Penelope, mostly Morgan, until that evening when I got one last call from Spencer. He asked me to see if there were any men who had been admitted to the hospital in the last 6 months for brain injuries, but no one came up.

"Couldn't find anything, looks like you're going to have to punish me Spencie," I replied.

"You'll just have to wait til I get back for that"

He hung up, and I couldn't believe what I just heard. Penelope and I were in shock that Spencer Reid could be so dirty. For once, I was the one blushing on the other end.

"(Y/N) I swear to god if you don't let that man make sweet love to you I am personally writing your letter of resignation"

"Penn! We just flirt is all, like you and Morgan, I could never actually be with him"

"So you two haven't been using my sacred office space to make-out between cases?" she asked with raised eyebrows. I stood there, with my mouth open and eyes wide, looking guilty as ever.

"You do know there's a camera in this office right?" I was mortified. Thank God we'd never done anything more than kiss in this office.

"You knew this whole time? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh Morgan knows, but everybody else is still in the dark because I didn't want to risk you not getting hired. And I hacked into the security computers and deleted the footage."

"Thank you so much Penn, and I promise I won't have anymore heated makeout sessions in this office, or anywhere in this building for that matter."

"Anything for my little protege. But in all seriousness, you should definitely ride boy-wonder off into the sunset and make it official once you're hired."

"Penelope!" I hit her in the arm, only half jokingly because I knew deep down that that's exactly what I should do.

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As usual, I waited in my office for Spencer to meet me. But this time, I was determined to go back to his apartment and finish what we started over the phone.

"Hello beautiful" he said as he made his way over to me. He greeted me with a hungry kiss and it took every ounce of strength I had not to pin him down and ride him in this office.

"Spencer listen, we can't makeout in this office anymore. Garcia and Morgan know about us already and she had to delete the footage off of the security cameras."

"Morgan knows? That present he gave me actually makes a lot of sense now."

"Nevermind that," I said before moving closer to whisper in his ear, "what I need now is for you to punish me like you said you would."

I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, his eyes went wide but faintest hint of a smile appeared on his deliciously soft lips.

"well then what are we waiting for" he said as he grabbed my hand and practically pulled me out of the office.

We wasted no time getting back to his apartment. Reid was always such a cautious driver, but this time he was driving like his life depended on it. Once in the building, he wouldn't let go of my hand and we were practically sprinting towards his door. He fumbled with the key for a moment before the door sprang open and I pushed him inside with the force of my lips on his. His hands had become quite comfortable exploring my body, and tonight was no exception. I tugged on his tie without breaking the kiss and he let out a heavy sigh as I led him towards his bedroom. I pushed him once again, this time down onto the bed, and I practically jumped on top of him to straddle his waist. As I let my weight rest on the growing bulge in his pants, he let out the sexiest groan and I could feel the wetness pooling in my panties. I continued to grind on him as we completely devoured each other. This wasn't the first time we'd done this, but this time it was different, we both wanted more.

"Spence please," I whined, "I need you."

"You can have me baby," he replied, looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes that I adore so much.

We quickly undressed and I raced to climb back on top of him.

"You really are beautiful," he said while tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. I smiled back at him and gently kissed his lips before going back to grinding over his now bare cock.

His groans were like music to my ears and I couldn't help but sighing at the feeling of him gliding across my exposed cunt.

"Baby please, I want to be inside you," he pleaded.

"Do you have a, uh, condom?" I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"I do...that was actually the 'gift' that Morgan got me," he said followed by a nervous chuckle. He reached into the drawer on the bedside table and, slightly trembling, opened the package.

"I-I just want you to know that I haven't done this in a while, (Y/N)," he began, "I don't know if I'll be any good." He was just as nervous as I was. I gave him a sympathetic nod before replying.

"It's okay Spence, it's been a while for me too. I guess you could say we get pretty caught up in our work."

"Agreed," he said, slightly more at ease.

As soon as he finished up rolling on the condom, I wasted no time lining him up with my entrance and sinking onto his length.

"Fuck, baby" he moaned with his eyes screwed shut "you feel so good." It was insanely hot to hear such foul language come out of Spencer Reid's mouth.

"You want me to ride you baby?" I asked teasingly.

"Yes please..."

I began to bounce rapidly on his dick, feeling every inch of him come in and out of me. I had a feeling he wasn't going to last long, but I didn't care, I was beyond happy to just watch the pleasure that I was bringing him. I took his hands and placed them on my breasts, which caused a simultaneous moan to come from the both of us.

"God (Y/N) you're going to make me cum" he said, nearly out of breath.

I knew he was close, but I was slowing down as my legs began to give out on me. He sensed the slowing of my pace, so he took one hand from my breast, wrapped it around my waist, and began to pump into me from below.

“Consider this your punishment babygirl”

This new angle was heaven to me and I couldn't help but cry out. He was fucking me so hard I swear I could see stars.

"Oh god Spence," I moaned. For someone who has been out of the game for a while, he was making me feel so good.

"I'm gonna...I'm..." he muttered.

"Let it out Spence, cum for me baby."

And with that, he spilled his load inside the condom. He just kept coming and coming inside of me until there was nothing left. Spencer Reid was utterly and completely spent.

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“Well Dr. Reid, you sure know how to please a woman,” you said poking him in the rib.

“What can I say, I’m an overachiever,” he replied with a cocky smile plastered on his face.

As I was about to go in for a kiss on his cheek, my cellphone rang, and it was a call from Penelope.

“Hello my pretty! Sorry in advance that I’m probably interrupting your sexy times with boy-wonder but I just couldn’t wait to tell you. You got the job!”

“Oh my goodness! That’s great news, thanks Penn! What department am I in?”

“You’re going to be working in the international intelligence department, aaaaand that means you’ll probably have to report your little romance directly to human resources.”

“Sounds good Garcia, we’ll take care of that first thing in the morning,” Reid interjected.

“Ah, so boy-wonder is there with you! Looks like you took my advice after all (Y/N),” Penelope replied.

I rolled my eyes and said “Goodnight Penelopeeee” in a sing-songy voice.

“Goodnight you two, be safe and don’t stay up tooooo late.”

“Aww, what ever happened to the fun Penelope Garcia?”

“She’s not here right now but leave a message, bye!” And with that our conversation was over.

“Guess it’s time to tell the rest of the team about us”

“I guess so Spence, good luck handling all the teasing on your own baby,” I said with a giggle and planted a kiss on his cheek before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow was surely going to be an interesting day at the office.

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AN: Thanks for all the love, shameless plug for my newest oneshot The Visit

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[lucky-bucky-boy]

Changing Tides

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 6790

Summary: You and Bucky get paired together for undercover missions a lot because it works beautifully, despite the fact that you don't really even interact at home.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, limited use of Y/N, LOTS of pet names (pretty girl, baby, i think baby girl, my girl etc), praise kink, oral f. receiving, slight angst, reader is in denial for a good bit of this, angst if you squint, reader is a part of the team, this piece takes place in an AU where everyone lives together and everything is happy

A/N: Oh. My. God. I did NOT intend for this to be this long, at one point I thought I was going to have to make this a two-parter but I got it all in here. I really enjoyed writing this, please let me know what y'all think!! :)))

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Hues of velvety violet and radiant amber mixed, painting the evening sky like a scene out of a museum. The scent of warm sea salt was still palpable in the air, the crystal like water of the wide-expanding ocean reflected the light of the setting sun. Dancing specs of light could be seen in the darker shades of the sky, stars bright and clear against the inky color.

The cold metal of the hotel balcony pressed against your exposed skin, shirt having risen up as you leaned over it slightly. The view was beyond breathtaking, something you would argue belonged on a movie screen. It was serene, offering a moment of reprieve from the typical chaos you endured in a day, and a distraction from the man currently sitting in the hotel room behind you.

Hate didn’t describe the emotions you felt for the brunet. On a daily basis, there was an underlying disinterest but every now and then a seething annoyance would bubble at the mere thought of the former soldier. You couldn’t pin-point why. Bucky himself had never done anything to wrong you after his rehabilitation and reintroduction into society, and you could easily say nothing the Winter Soldier had done counted towards your feelings.

The odd part of it all is the Bucky and you worked well together, great even. More often than not, you found yourself partnered with Bucky on just about every mission the two of you had; from quick in and out missions to undercover operations like the one you were on now. The communication was great, the two of you easily fell into a rhythm and could read each other’s body language like you’ve known each other your whole life. It was easy to slip into a faux-domesticity with him, which was a stark contrast to the daily life you lived.

The day to day with Bucky involved a lack of any form of contact. You’d avoid the gym if he was in it, would eat in silence if the two of you happened to be in the kitchen at the same time, eye-contact was consistently avoided - Really, the only time the two of you were seen together at home was during group training sessions and team-building nights. You were sure to never make it awkward for the rest of the team, never bad mouth or be outwardly annoyed at Bucky’s presence, you just really couldn’t care less if he was there or not. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice carried from the room, light and sweet, almost intoxicating with a feeling instantly having your gut turn and catch your skin aflame, “Did you want to go out for dinner tonight or just order room service?” His voice got nearer as he moved to join you on the balcony.The cool metal prosthetic wrapped around your waist as he stood next to you.

A soft hum left your lips, gaze moving from the horizon to the prosthetic then to Bucky’s face. He adorned a slight scruff, long hair pulled back into a low bun; His eyes nearly twinkled as they reflected the setting sky in the distance, he wore soft maroon button down and black chinos that truly made him look like a normal, well-off guy. Tony and Peter had finally managed to perfect the color needed to make Bucky prosthetic look like a normal arm which easily sealed the deal on assuring that there was nothing major that could be easily spotted to dox the two of you as agents. 

The flight to Morocco was long and the next 10 days were easily going to be even longer, the last thing you wanted to do was be anywhere but a soft bed. “Room service,” you replied, matching the tone he had asked the question with. You leaned your head against his shoulder, moving your gaze back to the ocean, “Did you do a room check and get our things set up?”

He nodded, “Everything inside is clear and put away,” he squeezed your side softly when he said inside, a subtle emphasis to communicate where it was safe to not be in character. “I’ll go order the room service, you can go shower and get comfortable. I know how much you hate the airport.” He chuckled softly at the end, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before making his way back inside. 

You let out a soft sigh, making it inside as well and closing the balcony door behind you as you did. This really was going to be a long 10 days. 

**

The bitter taste of the wine nearly made your mouth water, sitting somewhere between too intense and the perfect thing to take the edge off. The first full day had been smooth, an easy itinerary of walking and exploring the city. From the outside, the two of you easily looked like a love sick couple; matching clothes, a large diamond in your hand, Bucky always opening the door for you and your soft smile that just couldn't seem to leave you face; but in reality you had been mapping the city, learning the back alley ways and locating any ports that may be needed for a quick exit. 

The small patio of the restaurant adorned a handful of tables, lanterns lighting the area in a soft romantic glow, lucious plants filling in any space, the open space allowed for ease of blending into the crowd while watching any passerby on the street. Bucky had taken up a game of footsie with you, chattering along about some of the shops you had passed along the way.

“Is there any shop you’d want to make your way back to?” Bucky took a sip of the wine in front of him, eyes fixed on you intently.

A soft hum left your lips, swaying your head back and forth softly as you thought. “Well, I wanna hit up the history and art museum, so maybe we could see if there’s any other cute shops there? If not, I’d definitely like to look at the jewelry store and bookstore we passed on the way here.”

“Mmm, I do think it’s time to get my pretty girl a new necklace,” the words fell off Bucky’s tongue like he sweet talked you on the daily. 

There was that feeling again, the uneasiness that laid in the pit of your stomach and your skin heated up. Maybe this was why you couldn’t stand Bucky outside of missions, maybe you just didn’t want to deal with this feeling constantly. “You spoil me enough, ya know,” you offered a soft giggle, “I can assure you I don’t need any more jewelry, my love.”

Bucky smirked softly, cocking his eyebrows up at you with a knowing look on his face, “You may not need it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it anyways.”

You shook your head, about to offer a rebuttal as the waiter set your food down in front of you, all thoughts being lost to the amazing sights and smells. “This is easily my favorite part of our trips,” you stated, the distraction of food keeping you from noticing the way Bucky’s gaze stayed on you and a soft smile lingered.

**

Six days of being enveloped in Bucky’s presence, and thankfully it was getting easier by the moment. It had been a smooth operation so far, the information being easy to locate and gather without raising suspicions. As a result, Tony had said to take a day to relax, lay low and assure no one was able to realize there was something more to you two.

Bucky had made a home on the balcony of your hotel, a book in hand and a coffee sat on the little table next to him.He been there since the early morning and it was easily almost noon, not that that you were bothering to check the clock. A day off meant a day of sleep and eating, nothing much more than that. 

However, sleeping wasn't something your body wanted to do so you found yourself with a forgotten movie playing on the television, your gaze consistently going back to him. You weren't sure why, but you couldn't keep your eyes off him. You'd been sitting for the past God knows how long trying to figure out why you couldn't pull your eyes away from him. His hair was down, something he didn't do quite often, almost always finding it easier to have it pulled away from his face. From the angle he was sitting, you could see his light gray button down was still completely unbuttoned, his jean shorts a little too snug around his thighs. He occasionally sipped the coffee that was most likely cold at this point, turning the page of the thick novel occasionally. His lips would purse, eyebrows scrunch occasionally, or a small chuckle, or even a shake of his head as he reacted to the words on the page. 

The wind picked up some, indicating a small rain storm that was destined to his later in the evening was starting to make it's way in. Bucky pulled a hair tie from his pocket, tying his hair into his typical low bun before picking his book back up. And it finally hit you; Fuck he's pretty.

The thought immediately made your body heat up and the instant feeling of something in between shame and excitement sat low in your belly. It was like a well known secret your subconscious kept for years finally made it over the wall of denial in your brain, immediately making your thoughts run wild; Fuck he's so pretty, more than pretty actually. What if this is why we've been weird for some many years? Wait. Why would that make it weird? Wait. Why is it weird? Why do we get along so well on missions and then act so differently at home? Oh My God… Has the team been trying to set us up? 

Shaking your head, you jumped up, apparently too suddenly because Bucky broke his concentration on his book to glance over at you. You could feel he was watching you move around, the only thought in your head now was to get out for some fresh air as you deciphered the flood of thoughts. You grabbed some fresh clothes, slipping into the bathroom with a heavy sigh once the door was closed. 

You looked at yourself in the mirror, attempting to ground yourself. Okay, what the hell is going on? The question kept repeating itself over and over in your head as you slipped into a summer dress, a sage flowy piece that Natasha and you bought for this trip specifically. It was cute, and Nat was right when she said it complimented your skin; definitely different than your normal attire but still comfortable. 

Walking out of the bathroom, you were relieved to find Bucky still where he was when you entered. After slipping on some sandals, you moved towards him, immediately aware of every detail of your very being. "Hey," you kept your voice soft, waiting for him to pull him eyes from the book and look up at you. There was something about how brightly his eyes shone with the golden sun beating down on him, there was a sense of both innocence and mystique, and the instant feeling of safety just from holding his gaze. "I'm heading out to get some coffee, do you want a fresh one? You've been sipping at the same cup for hours now."

Bucky glanced down at the cup, then to his watch, eyes going wide for a moment before a soft chuckle left his lips. "I've been out here for 4 hours already, shit. Yeah, I'd love a fresh one, doll. Thank you." He offered you a soft smile, "Just get me a-"

"A latte with three honeys on the side," you said matter-of-factly, "I could order for you at just about anywhere at this point." It was a teasing joke, one Bucky laughed at, but you instantly cursed yourself for even saying it. 

"We do spend quite a bit of time together," he hummed out, "Did you want to go out for dinner or get room service tonight?" He asked, picking his book back up as he prepared for your departure. 

"Let me see how I feel after I get back. But if we go out, it's your turn to pick. I picked last night." You stated before leaning down to kiss his hairline, still needing to keep up the act just in case someone was managing to spy; or at least that's what you were telling yourself. "I'll see you inna bit."

**

After returning with the coffee, still finding Bucky to be where he was when he left him, it was an instant decision to find a way to give yourself more time a way from the man that had your mind absolutely scrambled. Grabbing a book of your own, you let him know you'd be down by the pool if he needed you, using a quick excuse about wanting some change in scenery before the rain came as you left. 

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been out there, it couldn't have been too long, but you we're aware you were reading the same page over and over again. The words seemed to mix together, jumbling about and not registering even in the slightest, your brain still attempting to make sense of what you were feeling. 

You never denied that Bucky was attractive, that's admittedly part of what made undercover missions easy. You never denied that you two got along well on missions, but you couldn't explain or pinpoint why you didn't get along at home. Sure, you were never hostile or rude, but it was exactly friendly or outgoing either. No matter how much you thought and walked through your early memories of Bucky, you couldn't make sense of anything. 

At this point, you knew pride was part of the issue. You knew the team would be able to walk you through, at the very least Nat or Pepper or maybe even Steve, but you could never admit to them what you were currently feeling or going through. The only thing you wanted to do, needed to do was to act normal until you got home. Then you could just hide away and go back to not having to interact with the man that was causing you turmoil. 

"There's my pretty girl," Bucky's drawl quickly pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jump at the sudden push back to reality. Seeing you jump caused Bucky to chuckle, especially as you turned to glare at him and his bright smile, "It's getting late, baby. We should go get some food." 

He moved to the lounge chair you had made home in, kneeling down next to you so he was eye-level. There was that feeling again, low in the pit of your stomach that had your skin warming. "There's apparently food trucks at a park about not too far. Why don't we head there and get some food to bring back and watch a movie?" 

Instinctively, you reach to tuck a strand of loose hair behind his ear, offering a soft nod and a smile, "That sounds perfect." 

You wanted nothing more than to kiss him, the thought immediately making your already warm skin heat up more, feeling flustered and like a school girl. It's not like you haven't kissed, it was just agreed upon that it was reserved for dire need situations. All other physical touchs; hand holding, forehead kissing, even smacking each others ass was okay to sell the facade that you were a happy couple.  

Bucky picked up on the change, a look of slight worry on his face, "You okay, doll?"

The laugh that left you was slightly anxious, holding the book in your hand up as a quick white lie, "Yeah, you just came down at a particularly… intense scene."

He immediately laughed, kissing your forehead as he stood up. "You're so cute. Let's get going though."

**

The bustling crowds offered a great distraction - Bucky stood proudly by your side, fingers interlocked together and swinging your joined hands softly like a love sick couple. The both of you scanned the crowd, trying to figure out where to go and what to get. 

The lines weren't too long, there were nearly a dozen trucks, and live music playing. The sun was finally setting, more clouds rolling in and bringing in a cooler breeze that allowed for a reprieve from the beach heat. There were benches with umbrellas set up, lantern lights adorning some posts and wires around the lot. It was cute, and if it wasn't for the mission you were still technically on, it would feel so wrong to be here with Bucky. 

After a moment of thought, you looked at Bucky, lips slightly pursed in thought, "I have an idea." You stated matter-of-factly.

He cooked an eyebrows at you, intrigued and slightly amused with your tone, "Let's hear it then."

"Let's get a platter or some random menu item from every truck then go back to the room and eat there." 

Bucky looked around and nodded, "Ya know what, doll, that sounds fantastic. Do you wanna divide and conquer or go one by one?"

It was then that you realized the clouds were darkening, and the rain was definitely going to happen sooner than later. "Let's divide and conquer before the rain comes." 

With a nod of agreement the two of you split, heading to either end of the trucks and working your way to each other. With the lines being shorter, it didn't take too long to get through them all, the both of you holding multiple bags stacked full of food and tied tightly. Quick words were exchanged before you started heading back towards the hotel, hoping to make it back before the rain.

The effort was fruitless though, with just maybe a few hundred feet left before the hotel you were staying at, the cold rain begins to pour down, the dark sky opening up and letting go every ounce of water it was holding on to. With loud gasps from the both of you, and small playful shriek even, you two took off running into the lobby, screeching yourselves to a stop as you entered and stood on the mats in front of the door. You were breathing heavily, attempting to catch your breath; a quick glance to Bucky showed you he was doing the same.

After a few moments, the two of you made eye contact, bursting into immediate laughter. You were both soaked head to toe, the only thing saved was the food. His shoes make a sloshing sound and your feet slid around in your sandals, you clothes clinging to every inch of your bodies. You were easily a sight for sore eyes, but it couldn't have been funnier. 

"Why didn't either of us think about the rain?" You managed to get out through your laughter. 

"Who knows, but let's get upstairs so we can get dry." He managed to respond.

The elevator ride up felt like an eternity, the cold of the AC feeling more intense from your wet skin. Bucky opened the door for you, letting you in first. He set the foot down, immediately kicking off his shoes. "Go shower, get warm. I'll pull out a change of clothes for you and we can swap when you're done." 

Something about the direction made you freeze momentarily, causing him to look up at you, "(Y/N), you're freezing. Go shower. I'm fine to wait." His voice was soft and caring and there was a part of you that wanted to tell him to shower with you. 

In the dim light of the room and the soaking wet clothes made him look even more divine, like he was sculpted from the gods themselves. You nodded, handing him the bags before making your way towards the bathroom. You closed the door, then quickly opening it to call out but he cut you off, "You want an oversized shirt and a loose pair of shorts, gets your ass in the shower." His tone was demanding but still playful. You caught the look in his eyes, mischievous, playful, and a hint of something you didn't want to recognize. 

You kept your shower quick, ready to be in comfortable clothes and a bed with good food. After quickly drying yourself as much as possible, you wrapped yourself in a towel, and stepped out into the bedroom. Bucky stood in only his boxers, his own clothes in one hand while he scrolled through the television with the other. It wasn't the first time you've seen him with this little clothing, but something about it now made your mouth dry and your skin heat up. 

"All yours," you said, grabbing his attention as you moved to the bed where he laid your clothes out for you. 

"Thanks, doll. I'll be quick. You can pick the movie," he tossed the remote onto the bed before disappearing into the bathroom himself. 

You stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself before slipping into the clean clothes. Bucky had already made work of getting creative. He pulled the ironing board from the closet and set the food up next to the bed, had fluffed the pillows up into a sitting position, and already gotten drinks for the two of you. By the time you had decided on a movie, Bucky was coming out of the bathroom. 

Immediarely, you mind started short circuiting again. He looked soft. He had on a light blue shirt and a pair of light gray shorts, his hair was towel dried and brushed against his shoulders, a slight wave to the brown locks. He slid in bed next to you, getting himself situated and comfortable before handing over the massive spread of food for you to start digging into. 

After about 20 minutes of eating and watching the movie in a comfortable silence, Bucky turned the volume down some, "Can I ask you a question?" The tone of his voice alone already told you how he was feeling. There was a sense of worry, anxiety almost to him. 

"Of course, what's wrong?" You asked, sitting your food to the side so you could turn to look at him. 

Bucky followed your lead, moving the food he had off the bed as well before taking a drink, trying to have a moment to articulate how he was going to ask what he wanted. Even though Bucky was sure the room wasn't bugged, he knew that there's was never a 100% chance of assuring that. The fact alone could make talking about things outside of the mission difficult, and this one one of those moments.

"How's the trip been for you? I know we haven't been on one in a while and I just want to make sure everything's okay, that we're okay." He had turned fully to look at you now, the worry in his voice making it to his eyes. 

"Oh…" the response was immediate, and you regretted it instantly the second you so that worry on his face grow, "The trips been wonderful, and uh…" You sighed, toying with the blanket around you, "We're fine, yeah. I'm just… not here?" You said, sort of motioning to your head to get the point across.

Bucky cocked his head some, the worry turning to confusion. "Are we going to be okay when we go home?"

That was something you couldn't answer. What was okay. Was okay how you normally act? Was okay something different? Something better? Something worse?

"Uh… maybe?" You offered, immediately wincing at your own words. You sighed deeply, "I don't really know how to explain what I'm feeling."

"Okay," Bucky took a moment, letting you both sit in the uncomfortable silence that was the lull in the conversation. He was doing his best not to become frustrated, he knew there was most likely no easy way for you to communicate what you wanted to say or even what you were feeling, but he's been able to tell for the past couple of days that things, specifically that you, have been off. "What do you know?"

Your gaze met his again, taking a deep breath in to try to gather the courage to say what you needed. "Things feel… different?"

"Different?"

"Different." 

Bucky stared at you for a moment, mind calculating and analyzing has he tried to decipher what you meant. In an instant it all clicked, and you didn't miss the way his lips curled into a quick smirk before his features soften. "Do things feel different when I call you my pretty girl?"

He watched as you immediately became flustered, averting your gaze and watching your chest rise and fall quicker. He thought he had sensed your heart rate quickening throughout the past couple of days, but he had honestly assumed it was anxiety from the mission. He had no reason to think it could be something else; Well, until now. 

"(Y/N)," your name came as firm and demanding, causing you to look at him. The smirk on his face was more evident now, "We can continue this conversation now, or when we get home. But just remember, you're my favorite book to read."

You were instantly lost for words, mouth opening and closing as you processed what he just said to you. Waiting until you were home was going to be far too long, but talking about whatever this was now? Right now when you were flustered beyond belief, that flippant warm feeling filling every valley and curve of your body? 

"Just say the word, doll, and I'll act like everything is normal. I'll go back to watching the movie and eating and ignoring the obivous."

A soft shake of your head was all you could muster as you search desperately for a will to stop the inevitable, or the courage to beg for it. 

"Words, (Y/N). Use your words." 

"I don't want normal." You swallowed, taking a shaky breath you continued, "I don't want this to go back to normal." 

Buckys lips turned to a smile. "You don't want this to stop when we go home?"

You shook you head more feverishly, "No, I - Fuck, what have you done to me?" You groaned out.

"The same thing you've been doing to me for years, I suppose." His tone was matter-of-fact, cool and calm almost. 

"What?" Your eyes had gone wide, mouth dry, and that God forsaken feeling low in your stomach was growing. 

"You heard me. Obviously, we'll have some talking to do when we get home." He chuckled

Bucky moved as if he was going to grab the food, stopping once he heard, "No," come out of your mouth, "No. I want to talk about it now."

He looked back at you, eyebrows raising as to silently ask how.

"I want to…" You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief at yourself before leaning forward, cupping the back of his neck with your hand and pressing your lips to his. 

This kiss was different; It was electricity filled, igniting every nerve in your body. You could feel the heat from your ears to your toes. It was intoxiting and addicting. 

Bucky waisted no time in kissing you back, even letting out a small groan at your sudden assertiveness. His prosthetic hand held onto you waist, the other cupping your face as the two of you broke years worth of tension in one swift motion. Bucky pulled away first, taking in the plumpness of your kiss swollen lips, the sluttering of your lashes as your opened your eyes to look at him, and the darkness of your gaze that was stricken with last. 

He looked just as enthralled, blue eyes dark as the night sky and hooded with desire, cheeks flushed slightly beneath his scruff. It finally clicked what the feeling you've been having all week was. Lust; pure, unadulterated lust for the man who was currently pretending to be your husband.

"Well damn, doll," he offered you a toothy grin, squeezing your waist, "Wasn't expecting that." 

"Sorry-"

"Don't be." He bit his lip, studying your face for a moment, "Whatcha thinking, pretty girl?"

You couldn't help but get flustered, "That I want more. A lot fucking more." You hand moved up from his neck to card through his hair, his breath hitching some as you did. "Please, James, I need more." Your voice had a slight whine to it, something you hoped he wouldn't be able to resist. 

"If I knew you sounded so pretty begging this would've happened years ago," he grumbled before kissing you again. This time though, he re-situated himself, helping you move to straddling him and doing his best to let you still have some semblance of control for now. His hands gripped your hips, keeping you from being able to move away from him.

One of your hands cupped his face, the other running down his clothed chest. You lips move in sink, a squeeze on your hips eliciting a small moan from you that he took advantage of, using your open mouth to slip his tongue in. You could feel the tent in his shorts growing, sitting hard against your core. 

An experimental grind of your hips pulled a moan form the man beneath you; The sound was music to your ears, and enough encouragement to do it again. 

Buckys hands moved, bracing you as he flipped you over to give himself more leverage and take control. Just as he begin to grind himself against you, he moved his lips from your to your neck. He kissed his way down to your pulse point, drinking in the sweet sounds you made. He sucked softly at the skin, moaned himself when you pulled at his hair. 

Any rationale thought was gone at this point, any fears or anxieties you had pushed to the back of your mind as pure pleasure and desire took over the forefront of your thoughts. Once Bucky was sure he would be satisfied with the mark he left on you, he pulled back some to look you in the eye. 

"Are you sure you want this?" He breathed out, offering you an out. 

You nodded so quickly he couldn't help but laugh softly, "God, you look so fucking desperate, doll. You want me to fuck you?" He had a slight tease to his voice. 

Another nod is all you could muster, but that wasn't good enough for him. "Uh uh, come on. Use your words. Need to hear you say it if you want me to do it."

You whined at his demand, pouting at him slightly, "Please."

"Please what?" His tone was more stern now, "If you want to continue, I need to know you actually want this." 

His insistence to make sure you were consenting pulled at your heart strings. You nodded, "Yes, Bucky," you kept your voice soft before adding a slight whine and plea to it, "Please fuck me."

He smiled, kissing you much softer than had had before, "I'd do anything you asked me to." His words sounded like a promise that had you own emotions bubbling up. 

Bucky leaned up for a moment, pulling off his shirt. He motioned for you to sit up and pulled yours off as well, groaning softly when he sat you skin. "Such a beautiful, pretty girl. Look at you," his hands ran up and down your sides and he took in your body before making eye contact with you again, "Most perfect thing I've ever seen, ya know that?" 

He could feel your skin heat up at his comments, watching you squirm. "Take your shorts off, doll." Bucky moved off the bed, kneeling on the floor at the edge, "C'mere." He demanded. 

You aren't going to deny him at this point, feeling yourself so tightly wrapped around his finger that you'd follow him into hell if it meant he kept talking to you like this. Once you were close enough, Bucky grabbed your thighs and pulled you to be perched on the edge on the bed, legs on his shoulders with his eyes level with your core. 

"Look at this sweet little pussy," he squeezed your thighs tight, "You're fucking glistening, doll." He started pressing kisses to your thighs, avoiding the very apace you needed him at. "Smell fucking divine, I just know you're gonna taste even better."

Bucky watched as you already started fishing the sheets, squirming and biting you lip to hold back any noise. He already decided it was his job to make it impossible for you to hold back. Bucky moved his right hand to interlock with yours, taking his left arm and using it to put pressure on your waist, the cold feel of the prosthetic a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. Just as he squeezed your hand, Bucky licked a thick stripe from your core to your clit, genuinely moaning at the taste. 

He wasted no time in drowning himself in your essence. Bucky licked and sucked, offering the occasional nibble, until you were grinding yourself in his face. Once soft gasps and moans were falling freely from you lips, he moved his left hand to your core, the cool digits of his forefinger and ringer figuring prodding your sopping hole. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly as he pushed two fingers in, relishing in the fact that your moans got loud. 

Bucky pulled him mouth away, moving to you thighs and sucking hickies into the soft skin while his fingers worked magic. He already knew your body so well, years of working together on intimate missions allowed him to learn how to tell what you liked versus what you loved. 

After leaving a few marks, he leaned his head against your thighs, looking up at you through his lashes and watching had your chest rose and fell and you head was thrown back in pure pleasure. "I was fucking right. Taste like honey, could drink you up all fucking day." 

He licked a quick stripe again, from where his fingers were to the hilt inside you all the way to your clit. "So, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to continue eating your sweet little pussy until you cum all of face then I'm going to fuck you nice and deep so you feel my cock for days."

He chuckled when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers, "You like the sound of that, pretty girl?" He curled his fingers, hitting the spongy spot that had you gasping for air and eyes rolling into the back of your head. "Look, you're already so close to the edge. You better soak me, baby."

Bucky didn't fall short on his word, getting back to work on your clit with his mouth. His scruff added a nice sensation that bordered on pleasurable pain, fingers moving st the perfect pace and curving expertly, mouth switching between sucking and kitten licks. His right had squeezed your own hand, encouraging you to let go for him. 

The pleasure was building quickly, it was intoxicating and inhibition destroying. You leaned up, using your free hand to grab hold of his hair and pull, giving you leverage to grind on his face. Bucky moaned against you, and truly giving you everything he was worth in his determination. 

It didn't take much longer for you to fall over the edge, moaning loudly and body convulsing. Your legs squeezed his head as he continued to work you through your orgasm until you fell back, panting for breath. 

Bucky pulled away, chuckling softly with a proud look in his face. From his nose down, he was absolutely glistening with your slick, "God you're fucking hot, using my face like that." 

Bucky stood, pulling his shorts off, using them to wipe his face some, then tossing them to the side. "Can't wait to see your pretty face when I fill you up. Your gonna take me so good, aren't you?" 

You nodded, already getting worked back up. You sat yourself up before he had the chance to grab you, leaning up and carding your hand through his hair again and guiding his lips to yours. You moaned at the taste of your own cum on his lips, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock, jerking him slowly. 

He pulled away from your lips, breathing in sharp. "Uh uh, doll, you can do that another time," he kissed your forehead, a sweet gesture that was a drastic difference to what was currently happening, "Right now, I wanna be buried inside you, making you cum all over me again. Cmon, lay back down for me."

You stole one more kiss before resuming your prior position. Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, pulling you back to the edge and holding your legs spread wide. "You can tell me to stop at any point," he said softly, "but unless you do that, I'm not stopping until you're thoroughly filled with me."

You nodded, offering a desperate, "Please, Bucky. Want all of you," and moving to hold your own legs up as the extra step to prove how much you wanted this. 

"So fucking perfect," he groaned out. Bucky grabbed his length, teasing your slit a few times to get his thick tip left before finally pushing in. He was slow, listening to your gasp as he stretched you out so nicely. 

Inch by inch, he pushed in until he was bent over you and all the way to the hilt, your lower bodies completely flushed. "You feel fucking amazing around me," he moaned out, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Just as you were starting to whine, he pulled all the way out before slamming back in, causing you to moan out loudly when you felt him in the deepest parts of you. 

Bucky set a brutal but rhythmic pace, changing it ever so slightly until he heard your moans and whines change to be deeper and louder. He moved one of your legs to his shoulder, which somehow allowed him to go even deeper, alternating between full thrusts and grinding against you. 

He reached down between the two of you, rubbing circles in your clit with his thumb and watching as your whole body begin to shake with intense pleasure. "Look at you," he moaned out, "Better than my wildest dreams. You gonna cum again for me, already doll?" 

He didn't need an answer at this point, he could tell from how your walls were squeezing him that you were close, and as much as he hated to admit it he wasn't far behind you. Bucky kept his movements consistent until he felt you fall over the edge again with a high pitch moan, his hips finally flattering as you squeezed him like a vice, quickly chasing his own high. A few erratic thrusts and he spilled into you with a moan of your name. 

Bucky let your legs down, taking a few deep breaths before pulling out of you. He laughed lightly as you whined at the loss of him. He disappeared to the bathroom, cleaning himself up before bringing back a warm, damp wash cloth to wipe you down with. Bucky pressed softly kisses to yoh skin and he wiped you off, kissing your lips before tossing the cloth to the side and climbing into bed with you. 

He helped you move back to laying normally in the bed, laughing once he noticed the credits of thie movie were rolling. He wrapped and arm around you, pulling you into his side and letting you get comfortable on him."How you feeling, doll?"

"Good, a little weird, but good." You said, voice drenched in exhaustion.

"Weird how?" He asked, rubbing his fingers up and down your back.

"Good weird. Happy things are gonna be different when we get home."

With how you were laying, you missed the way Bucky smiled down at you, "You don't understand how happy it makes me that I'll get to treat you like this all the time."

"Really?" You asked, already finding it hard to keep your eyes open.

"Doll, I've been yours since the moment I met you, someone was just too stubborn to notice her own feelings." He squeezed your side before going back to rubbing your back, "Get some sleep, we can talk in the morning."

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), mult-chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, perv!Eddie, no use of y/n, Eddie POV, references to readers mom, a nice slow build up

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin color or body shape/type.

So the original chapter 4 was a lot shorter than I remember so I combined it with chapter 5 <3

Word count: 7.5k

Chapter 4-Chapter 5

Five weeks ago, as one of his oldest friends asked him what was new, Eddie offhandedly mentioned he would be making his way down to Hawkins sometime during the summer to help Uncle Wayne finally transition into the nursing home.

Steve laughed, jokingly asking how is it that the old bastard isn’t in one already? The answer was pure stubbornness, of course.

It was without question that Steve offered a bed whenever Eddie needed it, tutting away the nonsense of Eddie staying in the 8 Motel off ‘Sketch Valley’, aka where all dark corners Hawkins’ parents have spent their years warning their kids about. Not that it really needed the negative press, as the atmosphere was off putting as it is.

Eddie was grateful, to say the least. After earning some bang for his buck he’s gotten used to a lifestyle and the 8 Motel was the only place in Hawkins that resembled a hotel.

It was impulsively decided the week of Eddie would go and help Wayne move after he reluctantly admitted simple tasks like bathing and making toast was getting harder for him and he could use the help. He called Steve, betting on the welcome being open in any circumstance.

In the heat of the moment Steve accepted, more than happy to help out a friend, give him some place to stay and a soft bed in the middle of packing and figuring out the kinks.

You would think his one second eldest daughter who hadn’t been as nearly stealthy about her crush on the rock star as she thought staying for the weekend would off set his willingness to help, but he’s so eager to help your visit doesn’t even cross his mind. Until you show up, bag in hand, your mom’s smile on your face as you give him a big hug and he realizes this might be trickier than he thought it’d be.

Eddie’s trip is long and painful, many assholes on the road obnoxiously refusing to let him pass, long mindlessly winding roads, the urge to piss after spending long hours passing semis. Wistfully watching those same semis pass him as he hides in the bushes.

When the door opened, Eddie was surprised to see a pair of eyes a few inches shorter than he’d expected, framed by hair in a tousled bun, a bikini top peeking out from a pretty summer dress. The first thought was wow, she fills out her dress a lot better than I remember. The second thought, brought on by the freckles decorating your skin, was oh shit this is Steve’s daughter.

‘Aah, little Harrington’ was a way to remind himself and you that this was off limits. No matter how intoxicating your perfume was, or how inviting the knot tying your bikini top together was. Of course as an evil twist of fate Steve had to be showering when he had arrived only to be greeted by temptation personified, his presence needed as he found it stupid easy to fall in conversation with you, keeping his distance so he didn’t do something stupid.

You offer to grab him something, being a good host, but Eddie needed to tread carefully as he recalls Steve jokingly remarking how you had a small crush on him over the years.

He’ll get over the reminder that you’re now in your 20s, filling out a summer dress and making him wonder what present that string is possibly hiding underneath the thin fabric. He had to.

He denied your offer to make him something.

As your summer dress hit the cement, revealing the just barely there bikini he ripped his eyes away from your glowing skin, reminding himself what he was not there to do. Steve found him sitting on the couch absently strumming Carla, immediately accusing his daughter of not offering any hospitality.

He was out the backdoor before Eddie could even protest. At Steve’s insistence Eddie followed him back into the kitchen, forced to sit on the island as he worked at making a hot meal for him. Answering the basic how are you questions was easy, the hardest part was keeping his eyes off you through the still opened double doors.

It became impossible when the plate was set in front of him as Steve left the room to bring Eddie’s bags to the guest room.

The image of you gliding through the pool, droplets scattered on your shimmering skin as your legs broke through the water’s surface tension was alluring in a way that only depleted his appetite for lunch.

His one saving grace to prevent him from making any stupid decisions was Steve’s presence. Until it was gone. Fuck, Steve! Out of all possible weekends to have a work emergency you had to pick this one?

He wished he could forget how gentle you were with his things, how forgiving you were to his dorky heart in ways he himself was still so hard himself about. The teasing tone in your voice tugged at his heart strings and low in his stomach, taking him back repeatedly through the long day of packing.

Your tentative touch along his old doodling, listening to him about his favourite Dark Fantasy Novels, the knowledge about his old adventures, the questions you had asked about Wayne…everything you had dared to say only drew you closer to him.

It was a delicious taste of irony, how Eddie had told himself not to let the close proximity get to him but it turned out to be your curious nature and caring touch that made Eddie drawn to you like a moth to a flame, suddenly craving more intimacy.

The unbearable heat of the following day allowed him to gaslight himself into believing it was all circumstantial, but your tiny gym shorts and the sweat glistening along your skin had invited him, called out to him, before he knew it he had invited himself along on your walk.

Ice cream and a joint had sounded really good, finding himself in too deep when he took a deep nhale of the smoke just to smell your sweat still lingering in the grass, deliberately allowing his fingers to brush against yours.

A sweet whiff of your sweat lingered in the grassy stench, the majority reason for his deep inhale as the smoke filled his lungs. It hit the spot, smirking as he handed it over back to you, letting his fingers linger as a jolt of electricity ran right through him.

He found it too easy to fall into conversation with you, teasing and poking and finding a thrill out of the V that so easily formed between your brows. Found it even easier to use so much as his hand on your shoulder to fix your gait as you start to drift to the right or catch your wrist when you nearly nose dive.

He thought you must be trying to kill him when the smoke blew in his face, wanting to return the favor by planting his lips on yours and exhaling his next turn right to your lungs. The following sound you would’ve let out haunted Eddie, just the potential alone releasing an ache in his gut that he hasn’t felt in years.

He watched in real time as you lost your inhibitions, stumbling over your feet and repeating sentences and losing your train of thought. He wondered if you had felt your skin also ablaze when he kept finding the excuse to let your skin connect. At first it was just an excuse, soon became a necessity once you nearly nose dived, catching your wrist.

You seemed to barely notice.

He’d never quite felt jealousy as intense as it was when you mentioned your ex boyfriend, a concerning level of relief taking over him when he’d realized how little you even cared he was there, too distracted by the ice cream.

Eddie went through a world wind of emotions when you’d started lapping your tongue all over the sweet treat, humming delight at the taste and completely disregarding any present company.

He almost lost his mind when you had admitted your ex had only been mediocre with you in bed. The mental spiral he had gone through was swift and winded him, wondering how if anyone would be lucky enough to find themselves in such a position would they manage to mess it up so royally? Knowing if he’d ever give in to that most primal of desires of his, he’d take advantage of any possible moment he’d have between your thighs, make it his mission to have your legs shiver and shake for him.

He’d lap every drop of arousal you’d give him, taking every whine and moan as gospel, eager and willing to give you everything, craving the taste of you on his tongue, to watch you squirm and for him- it sent all the blood from his brain to his dick.

His spiral is squished, the fucker’s hand suddenly tight on your skin, audaciously demanding he have another trial in mediocrity. It was too easy to bend his arm backward, nearly breaking it in the process as he found great joy in how quickly his tough guy macho front collapsed.

Luckily, you forgot about it like it never happened. Unluckily, you made it your goddamn mission to eat the ice cream as erotically as you possibly could. Eddie didn’t even think you were aware of the drops on your tits, watching as you indulge so eagerly, all your slurps and hums of satisfaction going straight to his cock.

God damn the angel that had decided to fuck with him that day, the one that had told you to spend an ungodly amount of time cleaning up the ice cream which didn’t help had the same colour as a certain substance.

You’ve gone quiet as he is, but he starts to worry that maybe he overstepped or made you uncomfortable. That worry only intensified when you admit you’ve smoked way past your own limit, wondering if he had somehow pushed you into smoking more. He needs you to know its ok to listen to yourself, lifting your chin to look up to him— and fuck he takes in your beautiful face up close.

Eddie convinced himself he fucked up worse when you run off.

As he strums his guitar, the chords and melodies come out all jumbled as the nagging worry only grows. He can usually hear your shower from downstairs but the stream hasn’t started yet. Oh god, what if you’ve greened out? You didn’t smoke very much but he had no idea where that boundary for you was.

You could’ve been normally done after three puffs for all he knew. Maybe he’ll just go check on you, the incessant need to make sure you’re okay after withdrawing as hard as you did eating his brain away.

His knuckles nearly collide with the door when he first hears it.

He’s not sure what exactly he’s hearing until he hears it again, clearer and far more distinct.

Oh.

You weren’t going for a shower.

Eddie stops breathing. In the middle of the hallway, he doesn’t allow himself to move a muscle, two halves of a whole person fighting within himself.

He should move. He should put his ear against the door. He should put some pressure on this aching cock of his. He should offer you help. He should leave.

Your moans are intertwined with sighs and whimpers, no words to indicate anything and Eddie goes nuts wanting to see you.

What are you doing? Are you using your fingers in that tight little pussy of yours? Overstimulating your clit? Using a vibrator— no, he doesn’t hear any buzzing… A choked out swear passes through your lips, god those soft pillowy lips he just wants to spend hours kissing.

Images flash through his brain, your tongue wrapped around the ice cream, the drips landing on your tits you didn’t notice, your doe eyes staring up at him through your lashes— Eddie keels over, grasping at the frame of your door as he finally relieves some of the pent up pressure. Fuck—its not enough.

Your moaning has gotten louder, lost in the pleasure you’re giving yourself. Fuck, he wonders what has gotten you so worked up. Are you picturing anyone with you? Is it a side effect of the weed you smoked? Are you driven mad by him like he is by you? As it gets louder he realizes…oh fuck you’re about to— Jesus.

He hopes he has the privilege of seeing you go over the edge one of these days.

He thinks its over for a moment but you start again…and now Eddie really can’t help it anymore he has to fuck…he hisses loudly when his cock finally comes in contact with his hand, the head flushed with a bright red tint.

No wonder he’s being so careless, all the blood is gone from his brain.

For the first time since apprehensively seeing your nipples peaked from behind your adorable little bikini at the front door he allows himself to imagine himself with you with his hand around himself. He imagines its him, Eddie, making you whine as much as you are, the desperate whines and pathetic little cries coming from you the result of him situated between your legs and fucking you with his tongue.

It would taste better than the ice cream did, he knows it would.

His hand flexes, wishing he could play and grope your tit, watch how the you react to him tweaking your nipple playfully. Fuck— did you just cum again?

“Oh fucking hell!” You swear, not sounding in the least bit tired.

All the needs, the questions Eddie has been masochistically asking himself has him being needy, whispering out little pleases as he needs to touch you, to see you, to know what the hell is on your mind. “Please, please, baby, please, ‘need to see that hot fucking body wiggle and curl and shake and fuck please let it be for me. I want it to be for me.”

Eddie has never been so desperate that he needed something like this, more stoned off the moans that fill the halls rather than the joint he shared with you. It was like he was only a step away from his lips on yours, but that little allowance he gave himself earlier is no longer enough, needing your lips to be carnally captured by his, to hear the whimper you let out when he bites your bottom lip, to lick the swollen sting in an apology.

God he can’t remember the last time the thought of someone like this made him this viscerally desperate. Your moans grow louder, on the precipice of yet another orgasm and suddenly Eddie finds himself hurdling towards the finish line. “Come on baby, one more. Cum one more time for me. Let me hear you, just one more time, please.”

As if his wish was your command, you push over the edge in what sounds like an earth shattering, thigh twitching, eyes rolling orgasm. He’s willing to bet you made a mess on your bed, quaking limbs and gasping after shocks as you wear a prettily stupid smile on your face and turn over your sheets to look for your phone.

Eddie grips the door frame, staring at the sticky substance on his hands he wishes you’d lick up the same way you did with the ice cream soup. For now…he’ll wash it off.

As he shakily washes his hands, he finally reaches his eyes in his reflection, knowing that was the only time he’d let himself indulge in the fantasy you’re practically serving to him on a silver platter.

Twenty minutes later, you come down glowing, a bright smile on your face with wet hair and a new summer dress that has his hands itching to rake all over you. It takes five minutes of contemplating for Eddie to realize that this is what you look like after really good sex. He’s rock hard again, and you’re wearing too much clothes.

He’s flushed at your uncharacteristically good attitude, at the knowledge if you were his you’d be this upbeat all the time if he had anything to do with it.

You ask him if he wants pizza, smiling sweetly when he boops your nose and accept graciously. As the dress sways across the top of your thigh while you walk into the living room, Eddie lets out a small grunt as his forehead meets the cool marble counter.

He’s fucked.

-

The mouthwatering smell of pepperoni and green peppers with sausage made your good mood only increase, after effects of the joints and three orgasms now combined with the pizza turning your sour mood to euphoric. The sun still beats down in a horrid, blazing heat, but for now these things outweigh the muggy outdoors.

You slip the driver some cash, multitasking as you open the box simultaneously to take the first bite. You suffer through the first bite, much too hot as the driver compliments the front foyer in the Harrington house. The door shuts on him as you thank him, Eddie glowering at his wandering eyes over your shoulder that you missed through the entire interaction.

Eddie grabs the boxes from you, cheekily grinning as he insists you must be trying to hurt yourself. You shrug playfully, grinning through the bites that are still much too hot but oh so delicious.

His grin feels looser, more playful, something you wonder if its just a Jedi mind trick.

His hips collide with yours as he goes to grab a plate, serving himself some of his own pizza, (cheddar, chicken, and mushrooms) his hand lingering on your hip as he leans over to steal a piece from your pie, too.

“Who said you could have some of mine?” You ask, reaching for the piece to snatch it back.

He yanks it from your reach, his pretty dimples plain as day as you jump with no such success. “Is that really the best you can do?”

You scoff, jaw dropping as you reach for it again. “It’s easy for you to say when you’ve got—“ you huff, the piece just out of reach, “—3 or 4 inches on me at least.”

One side of Eddie’s pink lips curl up in a playful snarl, “Oh, more than that, I promise.”

You stop jumping, eyes going wide at the innuendo. “Fine, you can have it.”

“Didn’t ask for permission, but I appreciate it anyway, sweetheart,” he winks, taking a big bite from it. Ok, eating pizza should not be this sexy, you muse, watching the tomato sauce spill over his lips, and the tongue that pokes out to lap it up.

His cologne is back to overwhelming your nostrils, enveloping you in a sweet musky scent as you reach to grab some more slices for your plate.

“You know you can have some of mine,” he’s leant in, his voice low and hot breath right next to your ear sending a well defined shiver down your spine.

Your face twists in disgust as you glance at it, reaching for the garlic fingers, instead. “No thanks.”

He laughs, eyebrows raised inquisitively. “What?”

“Not a fan of mushrooms,” you shrug, moving around him for a soft drink. “Soda?”

“You’re missing out,” he insists, taking a big bite out of a particularly mushroomy piece. “Sure, sweets.”

Yesterday Eddie hadn’t gotten closer to you than necessary, always staying at least one pace away from you. Suddenly he’s in your space, leaning in and choking you with his velvet voice and overwhelming presence. That walk must’ve done really well in terms of familiarity, remembering how easy going he usually is with your dad.

“Rent a movie with me?” You ask, nodding your head toward the living room.

“As long as it’s horror and something you’ve never seen before,” he barters, picking up his plate as if he was already planning on joining you.

“Ooh, can we watch Smile?” You flick the tv to on Demand, showing rental options of movies that have just come out.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Eddie easily grabs the remote from your grasp, switching the screen to Horror movies in stead . “It has to be something I have seen. Meaning I’m showing you a Classic. You ever seen The Poltergeist?”

You blanch, shaking your head quickly.

Laughs bubble up his throat, watching how worried your face immediately becomes in a split second. “Don’t worry. We can shut it off if it gets too much, but it’s just such a Classic.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly remembering he’s in his 40s. “Yeah, it came out when you were dropping out of college.”

He flicks your temple, huffing out a laugh at your yelp. “Shithead. Now sit and watch.”

You get comfortable, bringing the ice cold soda can to your lips as the movie turns on, increasingly aware of his presence on the couch next to you.

It was a fucking scary movie, but his consistent explanations made it worth it.

The temperature ended up cooling overnight, allowing for a deep sleep while a single top sheet frayed over your body, delicately protecting it as you sleep well into the morning. You barely remember falling asleep on the couch last night, the memory of Eddie waking you and escorting you to your bed replaying through your mind as you hug your knees and hide your wide smile against your kneecap.

His hand on your waist, thumb swaying against your cotton shirt as he asked how it is that someone manages to fall asleep during The Poltergeist, huffing out a laugh at the subsequent pout that took over your face. His low voice asked if you needed any water, his hand pausing right before it gently caressed your hairline as you drifted asleep.

The hot spray of the shower was just what you needed, doing your best not to over analyze his sudden closeness as you let the steam fill your bathroom. The too small towel barely covers the good bits as you walk towards your bedroom door, water beads scattered across your skin from your damp hair that you probably should’ve spent more time drying.

Not your fault your sister had a nicer en-suite shower than you did.

You’re only a few paces from your bedroom door when you hear what sounds like someone choking, followed by a coughing fit. You whip around to face Eddie covering his mouth with his elbow, hacking as he raises his finger to indicate he’s fine. You couldn’t be sure, but when he lowers his arm it looks like there’s a faint blush across his cheeks.

“Sorry! I was coming to check up on you it’s almost 1’clock in the afternoon,” he coughs, anxiously avoiding your stare as you stand still holding your towel up clenched in one fist. “So-sorry I’ll let you get back to it.”

You smile, taking advantage of his sudden nervous stature, looking suddenly a few inches shorter than he normally does. “You’ve seen me less in a bikini,” you deadpan, missing the way the towel slowly starts to reveal your hips and Eddie’s eyes zoning in on it.

“Right. In any case I made you lunch, if you’re up for it that is,” he tells you, clearing his throat as he plays with the scrunchie on his wrist.

“I thought rockstars all sleep in,” you joke, tilting your head as you look at him.

“I lost the ability to last year,” he quips back, smirking. “You also went to bed last night at 2 so it’s nearly been twelve hours, forgive me if I thought I had the merit to be concerned.”

“The merit?” You can’t resist it, his squirminess as you just stand in a towel is so entertaining you could burst, not even attempting to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I made god damned grilled cheese and tomato soup for you and this is how you repay me?” He exclaims, one pierced eyebrow rising. “Guess you don’t want it.”

“No!” You protest, your fun suddenly forgotten. God, how’d he know your favorite lunch? “Give me five, maybe ten minutes.”

“I’m timing you on that,” Eddie points to his watch, something probably more subtly expensive than you could guess. “9 minutes and counting!”

Eddie climbs down the stairs, finally able to take a deep breath at the bottom as he braces his hands on his knees. The image of you flashed through his mind, the towel hugging your tits pressing up against them perfectly to knock the wind out of him. As if that weren’t enough, the slit of your towel where at first your leg alone was peeking out became wider and wider, slowly revealing the droplets that still lingered on your skin, finding himself envious of water as it trailed down to where he couldn’t see, hands flexing as he wanted to trace that very pattern.

You apparently made no effort with the towel before making your way over to your bedroom because you were still soaked from your shower, hundreds of little droplets covering your skin, some trailing down from your still soaked hair. It was ethereal, watching the shine of your collarbone and that slow rising reveal of your hips.

Damn. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s been hard twice within the same four hours. Morning wood is typical, though more uncommon these days, but a damn collarbone? Is he back in goddamn high school?

The temptation to retreat back to his guest room to relieve himself is too much, but for whatever reason he can’t bring himself to. Distraction…distraction.

Something that caught his eyes during his first day suddenly flashed through his mind, a mess of twigs and leaves and branches that has obviously gone years without any maintenance. By the time you get downstairs in yet another stunning summer dress, Eddie has found an old pair of gardening gloves and has already filled one large black garbage bag, already well on to fill a second one.

His hair is done in a loose bun that has already started to come undone, his tongue sticking out as he tries to pull apart one branch off to break the larger branch down into continuously smaller pieces. He has taken advantage of the Bluetooth speaker Steve keeps for the outdoors, blasting music reminiscent of many backyard sunny afternoons swimming and playing and tussling for hours.

His toned arms are practically bulging as he continues the yard work, glistening in a sheen layer of sweat in the hot sun, as he continually gathers weeds and the straggler branches that have blown into the fire pit over the years.

The fire pit is extremely overgrown due to lack of use, the regular use of the pit gone down significantly once your older sister moved out, no longer taking advantage of the extravagant backyard for major parties. You never had interest in hosting any parties, the clean up for the host not worth it in your humble opinion. Steve continued to hire one of the few pool boys available in Hawkins for the outdoor pool, but also saw no need to continue the maintenance of the pit.

By the time you had put the bowl and plate away in the dishwasher, Eddie had already cleared most of the fire pit and was deep in the shed, from the sounds and swears he was making it was clear he was looking for something.

You were sitting on your favorite poolside chair with a good book and some cut up watermelon you stole from the fridge when Eddie comes out pushing the lawnmower, arms fully extended as he struggles through the admittedly tall grass. A gush of watermelon juice runs down your chin as he wipes his forehead and bends to assess the machine, admiring how his hands gently rub any debris or dust that has collected over the years.

As soon as the loud motor of the lawn mower fills the backyard, it drowns the music so you turn it up on the speakers, reciprocating the single handed wave Eddie gives you in either gratitude or acknowledgement. Even with the pages of the filthy smut filled book opened, your eyes don’t stay on the pages for any longer than a second. It takes for Eddie to go from fence to fence (in a stupidly large backyard) twice for you to read a full paragraph that would usually have you on the edge of your seat.

Sorry, two characters who have finally brought their heads out of their asses and admitted their own feelings and are subsequently hooking up in a place they should not be hooking up with, Eddie Munson’s sweaty biceps are taking front row. You swallow a dry throat, the concept of water suddenly flashing through your stupid head.

You’ve been watching Eddie do manual labour in a hot sun for the better part of an hour now and he’s probably parched. You run off indoors, the air conditioned house tingling as you feel each and every goose bump that forms, looking through the fridge for something, you’re not sure.

For one moment you consider grabbing the lemonade powder from the cupboard, though that might be too on the nose. You scoop the neck of a beer bottle, dripping in condensation and the second tub of watermelon, your sandals flapping loudly until you reach the grass again, meeting him as he fills the garbage bag with the cut grass.

“Need some hydration?” You call out, holding the glass bottle to him.

“Oh, Jesus, thank you,” he sighs, tipping back the bottle, his adam’s apple deliciously bobbing as he engulfs it.

“Should’ve brought something non-alcoholic, if you’re gonna down it that quickly,” you mutter, licking your lips as you watch some of it spill and drip down his chin.

“Nah, beer’s perfec-hey, watermelon, fuck, perfect.” He grabs a larger piece from the tupperware in your other hand,one that by the time he rushes into his mouth has already begun to drip down his fingers, wrist, and forearm. When your eyes flicker back up to his face, he’s already messily chewing on the watermelon, the pink juice flowing down his chin. As he enjoys the juice that is supposedly bursting onto his tastebuds.

Eddie Munson eats slowly, he enjoys every possible second of what he eats. Not an ounce goes to waste, if he can help it from the stickiness to his thumb to the drool on his chin, he takes it all in. It drives you mental with sudden lust, squeezing your thighs together as he goes in for more watermelon. How has the pure erotic connotation of this fruit completely evaded your mind? You might as well have given him chocolate covered strawberries, you slut.

Every piece is worse than the last one, it’s like he’s purposely driving you completely mad with hormones and blinding any sense of logic you might have, your toes curling as he slowly makes his way through the chunks.

“You want some?” Eddie offers, quickly shaking you out of your trance.

You clear your throat, gesturing to the empty tub right next to your chair. “Oh, I already had a tub. Did you promise my dad you would perform free labor for a free weekend at his house, because that’s extortion, you know.”

He laughs, in the middle of taking a sip that quickly turns into a coughing fit. “No, believe it or not, I’m crazy enough to be doing this of my own free will. I also happen to have a lot of experience in landscaping.”

Your lips purse, your eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to recall any mentioning of landscaping in any magazine article or one of your dad’s many stories.

“I mowed lawns around town,” he deadpans, chuckling when he sees it click. “I also mowed lawns around LA when I first arrived. It paid for a few amps, some recording studio time, groceries. Working at the record store only paid so much, you know?”

You nod, grabbing one piece and ‘cheersing’ when he offers, picturing young Eddie Munson who’s still unknown, overworking himself to the bone so that he and his band could one day, hopefully make it. The long hours, the sore feet, the stress of hoping and working, it pinches at your heart, squeezing it but his face doesn’t give away any of the negative feelings that comes from working so hard for so long with such bare results.

He’s looking at it from a lens of nostalgia, how eager he was to learn, the eyerolls of his customers who overpaid him to simply trim their lawn at his answer ‘musician’ when they asked him what he did for work. How across those same lawns its a party trick. Eddie Munson once cut my father’s lawn in the summer of 91, true story.

Half those people he’s probably never met, but he’s willing to be someone’s little white lie, after all he dreamed about days like these.

“I considered getting into the pool cleaning business but it was too much to learn and too many bored moms looking for a fantasy in their pool boys. I’m good, I just needed the money. I heard that lost it’s merit after three.”

“Who’d you learn that from?” You grin, seeing a twinkle in his eye.

He laughs again, chewing on some more of the pink juicy fruit you couldn’t help but watch carefully.”Gareth,” he muses, speaking of his band’s drummer who bores a sick goatee and once blonde long locks he chopped off a few years ago much to the dismay of many fangirls. “He said it was the best gig ever then took it (and his gear) back the following week.”

From what you know about their band and their quirks, that sounds like Gareth.

“I’m gonna get back to it. I should be done at least the brunt of it in an hour or so. Do me a favor and keep checking me out, it’s doing numbers for my already large ego,” he winks, taking the final sip of his beer.

You go speechless, your mouth that was once somewhat hydrated from the melon now cotton dry. “I was-I was not–”

“I was teasing you, sweetheart. But hey me thinks the lady doth protest too much”

“I didn’t even protest!” you argue, bearing your forearms toward him feeling like you’re in the middle of a performance with how amazingly dramatic and tense the situation has become.

“Oh, no, you couldn’t even speak,” Eddie smirks, leaning over to yank on the cord of the machine, drowning out your argument.

Not like anything’ll happen, anyway, you shrug, walking back over to your book.

Sometime in the later afternoon after you help Eddie put all the garbage bags at a hidden corner of the yard, he decides to go in for a shower, his stinky musk acting as a strong pheromone.

You don’t even notice him come back down, sat on the cool couch indoors as the filthy scene has finally caught your attention. The character is overcoming her first orgasm and bewildered when her love interest goes in for more when your flow is interrupted by Eddie, as bag of marshmallows between his gritted teeth and cradling a few more indecipherable ingredients as he nods toward the outside.

When you hit the backyard the outdoor string of lights has been turned on, two chairs by the fire in the pit one with a blanket, soft rock music on in the background as Eddie puts down all the ingredients.

“Wh-what is this?” You ask him as your heart pounds in your chest hard.

“I uh–” he clears his throat, biting his thumb, “I just thought we could enjoy this fire pit that has spent so many years feeling useless. Let’s give it a night of change.”

“You cleaned out the fire pit because you felt sorry for it?” You clarify, shooting a pointed glance toward him.

“Not in so many words,” he reframes, scratching his neck. “Though I thought it must be jealous of his neighbor for still getting maintained all these years.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muse, staring up at his brown eyes that don’t reach yours. “And sweet,” you add, biting back giggles when he breaks into a smile. “I’m sure our fire pit would love a night where he’s the center of attention again.”

“He?” Eddie points out, the eyebrow piercing hitting the sunset as they meet his hairline.

“You’re the one who said it must be jealous” you point out, walking over to the chair with the blanket.

As soon as your thighs hit the chair, Eddie wastes no time. “So, What was your dad’s opinion of what was it, Mark? Matthew?”

“Andy,” you mend, not caring if even got the name wrong.Getting the first letter wrong somehow made you feel better, as Andy was barely a blip on your radar as far as your weekend goes. “And he hated him. Tried to hide it, didn’t do a very good job of it, though.”

“Your dad has hated many boyfriends from what I can remember,” Eddie mutters, legs crossed as he stares right into the fire. The fire makes his brown eyes look brazenly dashing and a little on the wild side.

“My sisters and I didn’t all have the best track record of boys in high school,” you admit, suddenly feel the elephant in the room, or yard, that is your age difference that still has yet to be discussed. “College boys are even worse, honestly.”

“Men aren’t much better,” Eddie shakes his head, squinting comically.

“I think there’s a few good ones out there,” you mutter, only staring straight into the fire. “But back to my dad. Andy in specifically I think was his least favorite in the bunch because they just butted heads, all the time.”

“Why stay with a guy like that for two years?” Eddie asks. You look at him, having answered a question that feels accusatory from anyone else with defensiveness. The need to defend the seventeen year old girl dies in your throat when you see his expression, complete curiosity. “Expert in gaslighting and lovebombing and making an insult feel like a compliment. God all the time I wasted on him feeling like I wasn’t good enough–” you sigh, shaking yourself out of it. “Looking back it’s a parade of red flags.”

“Everything in hindsight,” Eddie amends, colliding his shoulder with yours as an act of comfort. “Sorry to bring it up he just seemed–he bothered me.”

“Acting like he’s too smart for college is so like him,” you admit, shaking your head. “What a dick.”

Eddie bursts out in laughter, handing you a cold opened beer bottle. Usually you turn down the wheaty drink if you can, but for his kindness and grand gesture you bring the bottle to your lips anyway after cheersing with him.

He’s in the middle asking about how you think you will do once you continue into your fifth year of college working towards your masters in psychology when the playlist shuffles into a song by Corroded Coffin, one of the only genuine love songs the band has ever produced.

“I love this song,” you muse, swaying to the start of a luck struck tale. It speaks of a girl at 18, wild smiles and pretty eyes meeting a boy of 19, lost and alone and aimless.

“I bet you do,” Eddie smiles, no malice behind his words.

You jerk, sending him the silent question of why?

“You really don’t know?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with wide eyes when you confirm. “Huh.”

“What?” You ask, staring to hum along when the upbeat chorus comes along, just two kids in a crazy world, how simple can this be just a boy and a girl, softly smiling at the hook and title of the song. “What?”

“I wrote this song about your parents,” Eddie mutters, looking off past the fire. “I started writing it early on in their relationship but only realized I’d release it when your dad proposed. I knew when he met her that she was the one for him.”

You smile, only vague memories of your mom flittering around in your mind, mostly hospital visits and playing cards with her and your siblings as she wore a beautiful vivid scarf on her head. “I didn’t know that,” the pressure that builds behind your eyes blurs the orange flames, the bridge suddenly making far too much sense and wondering how you’ve never connected it before.

Or why no one has ever told you.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, the beer bottle pausing on the way to his lips.

“I’m okay,” you smile, one stupid tear breaking free on the last chorus. “Just taken aback.”

“I’m sorry if I–” he starts, his voice drowning in remorse.

“It’s ok,” you nod, taking a sip of the alcohol to kill some of the grief you felt. “Really. Can we talk about something else now?”

He nods, walking around the fire to a few things you still haven’t noticed, pokey sticks. He sheathes a marshmallow on one of the prongs followed by another, hanging the pokey to you carefully. “S’more?”

You grin, nodding as you grab it from him and ignoring the warmth from his fingers brushing against yours gives you. “I suppose. Although it seems we are ignoring our dinner,” you joke, pointing out the hot dogs he also brought out.

“Dinner schminner,” Eddie dismisses, sitting back down. “We have s’mores, instead.”

“You’re a terrible influence,” you accuse, resting the stick on the edge of the pit. “Wait til my father hears about this,” you mutter in your best british accent, terribly butchering it.

“First of all,” Eddie huffs, unable to hold in his laughter. “That was the worst English accent I’ve ever heard in my life. That sucked.” Your fists collides with his knee, barking out laughter at his ‘ow!’ “Hey! I’m roasting marshmallows here, careful, it’s a very delicate process!”

“You deserved that, even if it’s true you just made me cry and now I’m emotionally vulnerable. I could’ve very well burst into tears from your insult!” You can’t even take yourself seriously, bursting into giggles by the halfway point. “Okay, what was second of all?”

“I don’t like to brag but I once met Daniel Radcliffe at one of my shows,” he shrugs, as if it were no big deal, failing to hide how gleeful it t ruly made him feel.

“First, you seem like the type of person who loves to brag, second, you seem very excited about it and I’m not at all jealous you got to meet him. He seems so cool and genuine.”

“That’s just the thing, he really is that cool and genuine and it was the most bizarre thing,” Eddie shakes his head, twirling the stick around. “The most random of people come to our shows and I’m always shocked when they say they like us because it still feels so unreal.”

“Twenty some odd years and it still feels like a dream?” You ask, watching a look of bewilderment take over his face that could never be faked. “That’s really cool, oh shit.” You tug in your marshmallows, one of them extra crispy as you blow out the flame. “Fuck,” you mutter, having hated burnt marshmallows.

“Wanna trade? I love the burnt ones,” Eddie grins, holding out the perfectly golden brown mallows.

You rapidly nod, biting on your bottom lip.

Its a struggle to get the gooey treats onto the chocolates and graham crackers, neither of you having the foresight to unwrap the damn things before roasting the star pieces of the treats. Eddie takes the trouble all in good stride, laughing as one of yours almost falls off the prong before he can get the graham cracker ready.

The first one of yours is already done by the time he sits with his own, having insisted he didn’t need help and to go fucking sit down already.

“How are they?” He takes a bite, nodding in approval before you can answer.

“Really good,” you hum, your voice muffled in chocolatey gooyness as your fingers continue to get sticky.

“Hmm, yeah that hits the stuff,” he appreciates, wet smacking as he works through his s’more so quickly you’re not even sure he was chewing. “Oh, just what I needed after a long day of yard work.”

“You did that voluntarily,” you remind him, taking alas the final taste of a delicious s’more. It might’ve been the best damn one you’ve ever had.

“Guess I just needed a reminder of what a long day of hard work looks like,” he shrugs, pausing in his bites as something crosses his mind. The thought goes away just as quickly, continuing to finish off his s’more.

The sun has nearly disappeared into the horizon, a beautiful dark blue starting to overhaul the once crystal. The conversation dwindles down, the loud crack of the fire pit and background music filling the air instead.

You think it’s the perfect ending to your days spent together.

Until.

‘“I have a stupid idea.” He says, his knee knocking yours.

“Hmm?” you ask, hazy from your third beer.

“In the mood for a swim?”

-

Thank you so much for reading! Remember replies and reblogs are the best way to support fic writers on tumblr!

Main taglist: @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovely @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420 @joequiinn @arlxtoa

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I can’t wait for y’all to read the next ch

I post each part every Thursday, the taglist is still open <3

[ellecdc]

single mom lily x fem!reader?

reader works in an ice cream shop and cute little harry (im imagining hes like 4/5???) absolutely adores the place so lily brings him in for ice cream all the time and falls for reader bc she is just so good with harry

ok here's my attempt 😮‍💨 thought this idea was so cute though!

single mum!Lily Evans x fem!reader meet cute

Lily was very lucky and very grateful that Harry had been a generally easy child. He was so much like his father that, whilst it didn't translate into the romantic relationship most parents wished to enjoy, led to a wonderful son and the best co-parent a woman could ask for.

And because Harry was such an easy-going child, she was trying very hard to stay patient with him as she frantically texted with James.

L: James Potter, where in the buggering fuck is this ice cream place that has ‘spiderman’ ice cream!? J: LOL oh god sorry. It’s on the boardwalk near the ferry. L: Thank you 😮‍💨 J: He making a fuss? L: I think we may have been moments away from a stage five meltdown. J: Thoughts and prayers 🫡

One meltdown avoided later and they were finally walking into the quaint, family owned ice cream shop on the boardwalk by the ferry, just as James described.

“Oh no!” Harry cried dramatically, holding his little hands to his face.

“What is it, Haz?” Lily asked, looking around to see what could have possibly caused such worry in a five and a half year old. 

“The man!” He explained.

Which explained nothing at all to Lily, still looking around the shop in confusion.

“What man?”

“The man with the spiderman ice cream! He’s not here!” Harry cried, turning to his mum with tears magnified by his glasses as they began pooling in his eyes.

She was racking her brain for something to say to the boy when a bubbly voice trilled from behind the glass ice cream displays.

“Hello there! What can I get for you two?” You greeted the pair with a beaming smile. If Lily wasn’t so caught up with Harry, she would have likely taken a moment to admire your radiance.

“The man!”

Lily watched as your smile fell only slightly and you tilted your head in confusion. “Which man, sweets?”

“The man with the special ice cream! He made it after my favourite superhero!” Harry cried with a stomp on his foot.

Lily pulled Harry towards her as she offered you an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry, he came here with his father last week and I-”

But like a beautiful ethereal angel sent from Lily’s own personal heaven, you waved her off with an easy smile. “Not to worry at all, love. My dad is the better ice cream server, so I understand your disappointment, little man.” You empathised. “But!”

Harry perked up at that, standing a little taller as he looked at you expectantly. “He did tell me that a certain hero may be coming in to look for some special spidey ice cream; could that be you?” You stage whispered the end of your sentence to Harry, causing him to squeal in delight.

“Yes!”

“Oh thank goodness.” You said with a dramatic sigh. “I thought I was going to have to erase your memory for giving away trade secrets!”

Harry squealed in excitement again and shoved his face up against the glass casing to watch you start expertly scooping ice cream, completely unawares of his fingerprints and foggy breaths creating more work for his newfound hero.

“How many scoops, my man?”

“Five!”

“Uhm,” Lily interrupted, placing a conciliatory hand on her son's shoulder. “Maybe just two.”

“Mum!” Harry whined, but you just laughed.

“Sorry kid, mum’s the boss.”

Harry acquiesced with one more groan, but grinned when he saw the size of the scoops you were serving him.

“What about you, mama?” You asked after handing Harry his cone, watching as the boy made his way to sit at a table with his red and blue ice cream.

“Is it really spiderman ice cream?” Lily blurted instead of answering your very normal, professional, and polite question.

You barked a laugh, but Lily was pleased that your laughter was because you found Lily funny rather than at her expense. 

“Between you and me,” you whispered conspiratorially, resting your arms on the glass counter and your chin on your hands. “It’s just moonmist ice cream, but this batch used too much food dye, so instead of the normal light blue, pale purple, and pastel yellow, it turned out a little more…super.”

Lily looked back to her son, happy as can be with his super ice cream as he watched boats sail by in the harbour. 

“Brilliant.” Lily whispered as she turned back to face you, only to find you smiling softly at her already.

“Yes.” You agreed, though Lily wasn’t quite sure what you found brilliant. “So, what can I get you?”

“Oh.” Lily responded dumbly, looking hastily through the options before opting for two scoops of rocky road. 

“Fine choice, m’lady.” You said before scooping, once again expertly, the frozen treat onto a cone.

“Is that what you usually get?” Lily asked suddenly. You seemed surprised at her question as your eyebrows migrated to your hairline and you looked up to consider her.

Lily hoped to all hell that her blush wasn’t as furious as it felt.

You smirked before your eyes flit back up to hers. “I’m more of a strawberry girl, myself.” You replied quietly, shooting Lily a wink.

If her blush hadn’t been furious before, she was certain it was now. 

Lily paid and Harry shot you a “thanks ice cream lady!” as they headed towards the exit with their ice creams in tow.

“You’re welcome, little man! Stay super!” You said with a wave.

“I will!” 

“Hope to see you and your mum here again soon.” You said quieter this time, sending Lily a kind albeit shy smile. Lily was certain you’d be seeing the two of them here again.

[quivm]

— Miles Morales' future.

Earth 42 Miles Morales x gn reader light light angst (?). minors can interact! major spoilers for across the spiderverse. ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა

wc: 1.2k

genre + warnings:

very light angst if it even is idk who to describe it. extreme possessiveness (yandere), implied manipulation, implied death, kidnapping, being followed, gn reader but feminine pet names are used

notes!! i saw @ichangedmycornyahhname work of 42 Miles and got so inspired i was so happy. i watched ATSV the day it came out and saw 42 Miles was working in alchemax when they looked at where the spider came from so 42 Miles is really smart and my brain went smart villain = dangerous / manipulative with his intelligence ?? i love this headcannon so part 2 or other ff with this hc is definitely pending o(≧▽≦)o

Your steps hastened, desperate to reach the end of the alleyway. Your unbridled heartbeat raged as the echoes of the rapid steps behind you increased. The dread and unease of the situation washed over your body as you came to the reality of the situation - you were being followed.

Anxiety at the forefront of the many emotions bubbling up worsened your ability to keep a level head. Realistically, your capture was unlikely. The claim Miles had on you was well known throughout the criminal world as an unspoken rule. Never touch any hair on your head. An immense help in day to day life in the overpoliced and crime riddled city of New York but you didnt know that.

This time though it seemed that unspoken immunity ran out, seeing as you were targeted after closing up shop and walking home. Words could not describe the terror that fell into your stomach as an icy hand lurched forward subduing you.

“Where are you going pretty? You have a nice bag, huh.”

This was it. Your end would not be in action or helping people. No, your deeming end was going to be by a group of thoughtless thugs way over their heads. When a frosty cloth was pressed against your nose it reaffirmed your thoughts. This was your deathbed.

____

A dreary house was the first sight you saw as you gained consciousness. The organised but messy state made it abundantly clear to you someone was in constant use of it, although it was not welcoming or homey. Fires and mayhem in the skyline gleamed in the window, a bittersweet view. Sadden because that was your life forever unless you leave NYC- which you could never afford but reassuring in the fact that you were still in Brooklyn as harrowing as it is.

Times like this made you resent Brooklyn, there was no one to help. The police had more problems than officers, criminals were rampant and encouraged. The city felt empty, everyone was on their own to see the next day. Community was fragile and easy to shatter into a moment of the past.

Fright jolted up your spine. The heavy steps clanged toward the door. Even though you were not tied up it was a matter of time. Maybe the men would let you go? Maybe they were here to tie you up? Racing through your mind all sort of nonsense was thought about, until the step stopped right outside the door. The door creaked open, on its last leg.

The illuminating light from the hallway and window shone on you. Survival was the only thought on your mind, though fleeting and hopeless. It seemed only achievable through pretending to be asleep. Your motionless body layed frigid, shallow breaths was all that seemed manageable as the heavy boot came to a stop right infornt of you.

“I know you're awake.”

The short and sweet statement shook your world. Fear paralysing you as you reacted by trembling inconsolably as you cracked open your eyes. The dizzying onslaught of purple welcomed you as you looked at your kidnapper. Horror consumed your soul. It was the prowler. Contradicting previous thoughts, you knew you were over your head.

Before the tears pooled in your eyes could drop, as well as your pride as you were getting ready to beg for mercy, another statement from the masked man was made in the same chilling voice although this time laced with amusement.

“Calm down princesa it’s me.”

The sound of the mask slowly unveiling the man underneath echoed throughout the room. Confusion bloomed in your mind. Everything you knew blown out the window leaving only fright and shock.

“Miles?”

Your rough around the edges, attentive boyfriend who treated you with the utmost respect was the prowler? The prowler who everyone in NYC knew. The man with no enemies as he took them all out. The man who created New York into the shit hole it was today was your Miles? The universe must hate you and everything you stand for because worthwise why would it play the shitest card it has on you.

You knew Miles was on the streets doing crime, he told you when the relationship got serious. As concerning as it was you knew you couldn’t stop it and tried to help him any way you could to make sure he got home safe. But you never expected he wasn’t just on the crime scene he ran it for the whole of New York. That changes everything.

“Mi vida, I know this is a shock-”.

“No! This is more than a shock Miles!”

Everything your relationship was built on was slowly chipping away. You both shared the most vulnerable intimate parts of your lifes, you thought you knew him. But he was practically a stranger. A second life untouched and hidden away which made him who he was today. This wasn’t something that could be blown over. With more confidence and left over adrenaline you stood up next to him.

“Why am I here Miles?”

This large reveal couldn’t take your mind off last night's events. You were kidnapped by a group of men and then you suddenly woke up here with Miles. Did that mean Miles ordered it? He could have come to see you though. None of it made sense and you needed clarity.

“Last night you were touched by some low lives. That's unacceptable princessa. I went over with Uncle Aaron and took care of them, don’t worry you're safe now.”

The gentle caressing of his hand on your cheek which would have been comforting in any other context wafted the smell of iron to your nose and felt inexplicably cold on your cheek. You knew what being ‘taken care of’ mean’t, you caused deaths. You were Miles’ and he was a possessive man, no one could touch you without facing the consequences. Your ability to walk downtown and come out unscathed made sense; you weren’t lucky you were a death warrant.

“Mi vida you are mine and no one could take you from me. Comprendido?”

Reality sunk in. You weren’t only Miles' partner, you were his future. He loved you, you were his lifeline to sanity after his Father died and he had shoulder the responsibilities of the family. The only semblance to normality and happiness in his life other than the close circle of loved ones that were Uncle Aaron and his Mother. And that circle only had one more space for you. He would never let go of you, he viewed you as an extension of himself. There was no where you could escape too, he owns NYC any manhunt he orders would end quickly. People feared his power and strength but laid dead from his intelligence and foresight.

There was nowhere you could run except into his arms.

[exhaslo]

Would you ever consider doing anything for Miguel/Fem!Deadpool reader?

One who's honestly just kind of tease which makes it impossible for Miguel to figure out *why* he hates her flirting with other spidermen so much until the penny hits.

Bonus points for recklessness and brat energy from DP we all know they aint got no self control. Needs Miguel to definitely put her in her place.

Ohhhh, I have seen so much fan art of just regular Deadpool being a menace to Miguel, Dr. Strange and the TVA. It gets me excited to see the new movie coming out!

But yea, let's give into the chaos!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, bondage, angry sex?, p in v, language

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

"For fuck's sake, why is there so many anomaly's popping up in different universes?" Miguel barked, tapping against his screens as he sent numerous Spiderman and women out to the field.

"Actually, based on the energy signatures, it seems to be the same anomaly."

"Impossible, one person jumping around all of these?" Miguel cussed lowly, trying to identify the new anomaly.

This new frustration was giving Miguel a reason to want to drink tonight. The speed he was working to try and understand this problem was honestly amazing. This was probably the fastest he has ever worked.

"Wow! No wonder why all of the Spiders I met say great things about you!" You gasped.

"Que?! (What)" Miguel hissed, seeing both a new intruder alert and anomaly alert appear at the same time, "Who-"

"Haiiiiiii! Pleasure to meet you, sexy ass, my name is (Y/N), I'm like the hottest version of me there is-"

"I. Don't. Care." Miguel hissed, jumping down from his platform and approaching you, "This attire...fuck-"

"Yeeeeep! I'mma Deadpool!" You chirped.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose before taking long, deep breathes. Once he regained a portion of his composure, he proceeded to grab you by the collar and drag you to the 'Go Home' Machine.

At least one of his problems were solved today. Hopefully you will stay in your dimension. Trying to ignore your chatter, Miguel couldn't help but notice some of the other Spiders avoiding eye contact. This annoyed Miguel. How many of them ran into you before saying anything?

"Hm? Oh like half of them." You replied. Miguel groaned loudly,

"Wasn't even a thought bubble," He muttered under his breathe before arriving in the room, "I don't want to see you here again. Stay in your world."

"Awe, but isn't fun! Not when I found such a squeezable ass-"

"Send. Her. Home!" Miguel spat.

It only took a second, but you were sent home immediately. Miguel took another deep breathe before returning to his office to hopefully relax.

----------

"Hehe, he gets so mad when he finds me wandering around this place. It totally isn't my fault that all of you guys think of taking a break here and I just-hop into those thoughts and end up here!" You huffed, talking to Peter B. Parker and Jessica.

"Yeah, yeah, we still don't understand the whole hopping into thought bubbles thing you say you do. It's so confusing." Peter huffed.

"Oh, it's pretty easy. I'd like to describe it as a comic book, but you guys won't understaaaaand, the readers will though!"

"Readers?" Jessica groaned softly. You just laughed,

"Oh yeah! The readers reading this now! So like, normally it's a comic I hop around or thought bubbles or I just rip through the screen, but this time...It's the readers who bring me here!"

"I think I'm more confused than when I started," Peter whined and turned to Jessica who tossed you into the 'Go Home' machine, "Look, just...don't come back before Miguel gets bad again."

"Hpmh! I just said it isn't my fault I keep coming back!" You whined loudly, "The readers and writer keeps bringing me here! I am meant to share my wisdom to Miguel!"

"Why do I hear that Deadpool's voice?" Miguel grumbled, holding a cup of coffee as he walked by, "Again?"

"See! He neeeeeeds me! That has to be why the writer keeps putting me here!"

"What the hell is she babbling about now?"

"Please, don't ask. I don't think my brain can handle anymore." Peter whimpered. Jessica waved him aside,

"She's going home now, Miguel."

Just as the machine turned on, you immediately got sent home. Miguel let out a sigh of relief and right when he was going to drink his coffee, you appeared behind him.

"Fuck!" Miguel yelled as he noticed you. You just casually waved,

"Believe in the spirits beyond."

"I want her gone!"

"Miguel, we've tried so many times. I think...we just need to accept her appearing here." Jessica whispered. You grabbed Miguel's cup, taking a sip,

"Oof, so bitter. So now that I can stay here under the writer decides to let me go home, wanna show me around, big boy?"

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he followed you, mainly just wanting his coffee back.

------------

It has been a few weeks since you've stayed at the-

"Whoa, whoa. Really writer? You gonna make here stay here for weeks without going home?" You huffed.

Okay, sorry, um, it has been a few weeks since you started to willingly appear at the Spider Society.

"Thank you!"

....

Uh, anyway, Miguel has finally started to tolerate you to a certain degree. You still couldn't understand why you kept appearing there, but you were making the most of it. Miguel on the other hand, was starting to find something new to irritate him.

"It's just so fascinating how different each of you are~ Can I touch those wonderful large boobs of yours?" You whispered in awe towards a Spiderman. Yes a Spiderman.

"They're not boobs."

"It's okay to not want to admit your flaws. I buried mine with my neighbor." You whispered, slowly reaching out to the boob.

"Enough." Miguel hissed, grabbing the back of your collar and dragging you to his office.

"Hey! I was about to grab something that could have been the most magically experience of my life!"

Miguel chose to ignore you, growing annoyed at your bratty and quite ignorant behavior. Honestly, he was more annoyed by the amount of flirting you've been doing with the other Spiders. You just didn't know when to stop.

"I can't help it. A natural icon I am," You chuckled and grabbed Miguel's ass, "But this...is a multiverse icon."

Miguel's eyes lit up as he locked his door and tossed you on his platform. In an instant, he webbed you in place, making sure that you couldn't move to try to free yourself.

"Ohhhh~ This is kinky~" You cooed, rolling around like a worm. Miguel pinned you to the floor, his blood red eyes piercing into yours,

"Do you know how frustrated you make me?"

"So...you aren't happy to see me?" You grinned, your knee poking at his growing erection, "I made you horny!"

"Silence," Miguel covered your mouth, "Shit, you're so annoying. No one has been able to put you in your place. Do I need to be the one to do that?" He said with a huff.

You licked his hand in response, "Awe, not sure if a fucking will stop me, but you are so willing to try~" You hummed.

Miguel felt his eye twitch as he captured your lips in a kiss, wanting to shut you up. You couldn't help yourself and smirked, enjoying this moment. Parting your lips, you hummed as Miguel forced his tongue into your mouth, his hands roaming your body.

"Mhm~ Gim....sq..." You tried to say. Miguel broke the kiss, glaring towards your,

"What?" He grumbled, biting and sucking against your neck. You chuckled as his hands reached your breasts,

"Give em a squeeze~ You know you wanna~"

"Do I have to shut your mouth again?" Miguel grumbled, kissing you again.

You tried your best to behave, you truly did. You couldn't help but try to grind against his hips, press your chest to his, or even kiss his neck. Miguel was ready to web your mouth, at least until he started to rub your-

"Whoa, whoa, writer, now I don't mind a good sex scene, but lemme have some privacy here!" You huffed.

Uh, I kind of wrote smut in the warning...so I'm giving the readers what they want, a sex scene.

"Well, I want this man to myself right now! You write other smuts! Let them read those!"

But they wanted this...I can't just-

"Consent!" You huffed, literally spreading your legs towards a feral Miguel who had you pinned, "This is different! I'm totally into this freaky shit!"

"Who are you talking too?" Miguel grumbled, ripping your suit. You shushed towards him,

"The writer! Wait juuuuust a second before shoving that monster of a cock inside me!"

I need to give them a sex scene here. You're already helping me write it.

"No, no! You are trying to write it. I'm trying to enjoy the moment. So be a good writer and juuuuuuuust-"

---------

"Thank you~"

What just happened?

"Oh, I totally skipped the part where Miguel fucked me so good that I actually did shut up. Hell, I think I still feel weak in the knees. Who would have known the stamina and strength that man had. Fucking hot, can't wait to-"

You skipped my story?! I'm the writer here!

"Yeaaaaaah, but like, you can always write more smut. Let me just enjoy that moment to me~. I'm sure you understand~" You cooed.

...

"Hehe, go on. End the story. I'm sure you have other smut to write."

I just- Whatever.

Let's just say, you made yourself a permanent member of the Spider Society. You made sure to annoy Miguel just enough so that he could keep teaching you a lesson. Hopefully, we'll get to see one of those lessons one of these days.

"Maybe~ If I decide to show the goods."

Freaking Deadpools.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hahaha, hope you enjoyed! I always loved it when Deadpool would just talk to the narrator or hop comic pages sometimes. It was great.

@tojishugetiddies

[ayyy-pee]

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Next Episode

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3

“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.

“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”

You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.

That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.

You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.

And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.

Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.

“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.

“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”

She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”

“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”

“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking. 

The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.

This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.

You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.

Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.

But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.

You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –

“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.

“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”

“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.

She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”

You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”. 

Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”

“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.

“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”

Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?

“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”

Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”

Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.

“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Window.”

“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.

“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”

It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.

To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”

You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.

You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.

“What don’t you apply?”

Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.

“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”

“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.

Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.

“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”

It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”

“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.

“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.

Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.

Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.

The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.

You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!

But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?

- - - - - -

Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.

This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.

“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”

He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.

Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”

The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.

And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, death, poison, possessiveness, obsession, implied manipulation, unhealthy relationship

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from

Entering your world

Returning home one day and finding a character from a game in your supposedly save heaven was definitely not something that was on your “definitely want to experience” list

But here he was, Vil Schoenheit himself… and he was crying the moment he saw your face?

Total confusion. Yeah, I understand.

After him apologizing, his reasoning for crying was being too happy to be in your presence, he explained how he went to sleep and woke up here

Did this remind you of the typical isekai trope? Yes but who were you to complain?

After all, you had a magical model sitting there on your shaggy couch

For the next few days, you expected some other character to pop up or Vil to suddenly undergo a magical girl transformation like they were used so many times in anime but thank goodness that didn’t happen because you weren’t sure if your heart could take any more surprises

Living with Vil was surprisingly relaxing though

It is no secret that Schoenheit is loaded from all his modeling and acting so you expected him to be more or less useless when it was about making himself useful

But would you look at that? He was actually pretty good

So good in fact that you had already dubbed him your househusband and even saved him under that name on your phone after he got his own

Of course, you never said that to him in his face

And for that, I thank you

You see, Vil wouldn’t do this for everyone he met. Oh no. He would probably just throw money at them to pay some sort of rent and then go on with his day

But you were the Overseer! The hecking OVERSEER!!!

When he first saw you, tired eyes and hair that could only be described as being a bird nest looking at him from a long day of work, he could not hold himself back

Tears of joy streamed down his cheek, him thinking that he died and ascended to heaven

Only after you asked him how he got here and offered a place to stay did he finally understand that this wasn’t just some sort of delirium or dream, no he was with you

He nearly started to cry again and his thought process, his head being filled with screams of happiness, must have been a copy of his own fans whenever they saw him

So he took his job as your househusba- *ahem* “roommate” seriously

What he might not even admit to himself was that he didn’t do this just because he thought so highly of you. No. It just meant easy access to your more private areas of your life

Your room was just so nice! Your bed felt like he was laying on clouds and it also smelled like you! Oh, did you save him under “house husband” on your phone? In that moment he squealed

He might even keep some things from you. Nothing too bad. Just a shirt or hoody… maybe he took more than just one

But the Overseer forbid- wait that saying doesn’t work here

But goodness forbid you bring someone into the small bubble of him and you

They don’t even need to do something bad. Vil will just see something that isn’t even there

That one friend of yours? Oh, they threw some disgusting looks in your direction. (They didn’t, he just imagined it)

I would like to remind you that TWST is apparently a place where it’s totally cool to teach teenagers how to make poisons

Yeah, he might not have a lab or certain equipment here but he can work with what he got. Especially since househusbands are always surrounded by chemicals

Suddenly that person is gone. Apparently, they have eaten something wrong but the doctors are just confused about how and why and so much more

The longer he stays the more possessive of your attention he gets

Mention someone and suddenly they also fall sick

And all he did was hand them a homemade meal. People are so picky about what they eat these days…

[tightjeansjavi]

Catfish | Chapter 1

🫧Filet O’Frankie🫧

A/N: this is my first ever Frankie fic and while I’m excited, I’m also a little nervous since I have never written for him before 😭 be prepared for lot of corny ocean/fish innuendo’s and Frankie being an ass because why would he just admit to the reader that he’s attracted to her? Nah, that would be too easy!

~word count: 3.0k~

Summary: a fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

Pairing | fisherman!Frankie Morales x bartender f!reader

Warnings: fluff ,teasing, banter, reader has thoughts of jealousy and feelings of insecurity, language, sexual tension, mutual pining, implied smut (not with the reader) mentions of alcohol, ouid, mean!frankie, grumpy!frankie, is really just a big ole softy!frankie, close proximity, no fish fingers..I swear, no age gap, readers nickname is Starfish, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni

A fisherman walks into a bar..you again with the damn umbrellas in his drink.

You’ve been working at the town bar right along the harbor where fishermen and tourists would parade down the wooden docks like a flock of seagulls.

Instead of throwing yourself head first into figuring out your career after graduating with your masters in publishing, you decided to take a year off and return to your roots. You grew up in this little beach town, and it would always be your home.

Then there was him; Frankie Morales. A local fisherman that you used to attend highschool with..except, you lived in two completely different worlds. Frankie’s parents owned a small fishing business that Frankie attended to. And once his father could no longer hold down the business on his own, Frankie took over the business entirely.

Now, here’s where your two worlds finally meet. The bar you work at? It’s owned by your parents who gratefully hired you to be a bartender. The catch? (literally). Frankie gets drinks and food on the house simply for the fact that he supplies fish to the bar. It’s a fair trade, and even though he frowns upon some of the trendier menu items, business is good so he really has no room to complain.

Unless..that complaint is directly rooted back to you.

Frankie Morales can’t stand you, and those stupid little multi-colored umbrellas that you insistently put in his beer, every. Goddamn. Time.

Other than those stupid little umbrellas, you’re an alright person. Pretty, bubbly, chatty with everyone that crosses paths with you. Your infectious energy can be described to be similar to a Golden Retriever or a Husky. Whereas for Frankie? Well, he’d agree that he has black cat energy, and not an ounce of Golden. (You’d beg to disagree).

Sure, he’s a bit offstandish, mean at times, but man, is he handsome. Handsome to the point where you want to giggle and kick your feet anytime you see him. He’s mean, but you can’t help the way that you feel. Maybe he’s so grumpy all the time because he’s out at sea from morning to evening, and he smells a bit, well, fishy.

You remind me of a starfish. He said completely out of the blue on one particularly hot summer day while you were pouring his first beer after a long day out at sea. Just down the dock, the water was glistening under the bright sunlight, shimmering like a million diamonds.

Because they’re pretty? You set his glass down between his hands where they were resting along the bartop. Before he could take a sip, you placed a hot pink umbrella stick into his glass.

He grumbled, like he always did, before he adjusted his usual baseball cap on his mess of curls. Sometimes you wondered if he ever washed that damn hat.

No. Not because they’re pretty, but because they suction themselves to everything. He said casually while gingerly plucking the umbrella from his glass and tossing it to the side.

You glare at him while you feel your heart clench inwards like a tight fist. “Well, if I’m a Starfish, then I’m going to start calling you..Fish Filet.”

His brow raises in mock amusement at your little nickname for him. “Fish Filet?” He scoffs, “how original.”

You want to stomp your foot and tell him that he’s really being an ass, but that voice inside of your head reminds you to refrain from stooping to his level. “It’s either that, or Catfish. So, I suggest you pick one, Morales.” You quip.

He grimaces as soon as the words “Catfish” leave your lips. His face scrunches inwards like he has just gotten a taste of something sour, revolting. You can’t see his deep brown eyes as they’re hidden from your view by his sunglasses, but you imagine he’s glaring at you now too. “Do not call me Catfish ever. Call me Fish Filet or whatever, but not Catfish.” His words are firm, straight to the point as he brings the rim of his glass to his lips and takes a large sip.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Fish Filet.” your middle finger slowly rises upwards, but before it can be fully extended, he reaches over the bartop and swiftly interjects with his hand.

His palm is warm, and albeit, a tad sweaty, but that doesn’t stop the sparks from shooting up through your arm from his sudden contact.

He says nothing, scoffs, assumably rolls his eyes before he retracts his hand.

He’s so mean, but your heart skips a beat whenever he’s near.

“I don’t get what you see in him honestly. Sure, he’s a good looking guy, but he’s such fucking dick to you during every interaction i’ve seen.” Your coworker, and close friend says to you while fixing up another drink. It’s happy hour at the bar and the tourists are in full swing tonight.

You laugh, because you know she’s right, why continuously bat your lashes at a man who wants nothing to do with you? Is it the chase that excites you? The coursing adrenaline firing through your veins. The close proximity?

There was that one time that you believed Frankie almost was attracted to you. It was during a little beach bash that ended up with you and a few friends making a drunk decision to skinny dip in the ocean. You caught Frankie trying to inconspicuously sneak a peek, but you caught him in the act, and you had never seen a man’s face turn so red.

“Yeah, he’s mean, he’s an asshole.” You agree, “but, June, look at him. He’s a dreamboat, literally. I think he’s just a big fat grump all the time because he’s forgetting to wear his sunscreen, and he faintly smells of fish. I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty pissed if I kept getting nasty sunburns and smelled..fishy.”

You know that Juniper is just looking out for your well-being and just wants the best for you. But she just can’t seem to grasp why you were so attracted to a man who seemed like he could frankly give two-shits about you, and your existence in his life.

“I wouldn’t exactly call Frankie Morales a dreamboat in my books, but I just think you’re a total catch, and any guy would be lucky to just breathe the same air as you.” Juniper said while she expertly lifted a tray of freshly made shots to deliver to her table.

When she walks away, that's when you notice the devil himself with another tourist who’s wrapped tightly around his finger like a worm on a fishing wire. Frankie doesn’t have to try very hard to get his dick wet practically every night. He just has to smile, run his fingers through his curls, and look in their direction before they’re ensnared. You used to think he was like a shark, swimming in the depths of the ocean, targeting his prey when they least expect it. But now, he reminded you of a Barracuda. Calculated, precise, and almost always successful in his ‘hunts.’

You never considered yourself to be jealous in nature. Not even in past friendships or fizzled out relationships with mediocre guys that you spent your college days with. These feelings didn’t begin to breach the surface until Frankie Fucking Morales showed up on your radar

Your fist clenched tightly around the little paper umbrella in your grasp while you watched Frankie work his magic. He made a point to freshen up before heading to the bar. He’s wearing a clean shirt, and that same stupid baseball cap. His jeans fit snugly on his waist and thighs. What you wouldn’t give to slip your hands into the stitched back pockets of his jeans.

He leans in close, whispering something into the female tourist's ear that elicits her to throw her head back a little and giggle. Her hand slides up the expanse of his chest where he’s left two buttons purposely undone for this exact reason.

You can see the sliver of exposed skin glistening under the fairy lights strung along one of the wooden beams. His skin is tanned, bronzed, and you imagine dragging your tongue between his pecs, tasting the tang of the sea, and of him all in one swipe.

His hand rests along the lower back of the woman, fingers sliding down further to rest along the curve of her ass. She’s wearing a flowy sundress, one that you’ve seen in a boutique in town. She looks beautiful, and even though you know you shouldn’t compare yourself to others, you can’t help but feel like you look frumpy next to this stranger.

You can’t tear your eyes away from the scene that is unfolding in front of you even if you tried. It reminds you of the feeling while watching a really bad movie or tv show, and feeling like you probably should stop, but the small part of you is dying to know what happens next. You watch closely as he leans in, lips brushing the shell of the woman’s ear in a teasing fashion. You wonder if he popped in a few breath mints, and spritzed on some cologne. You were so used to him wearing the sea on his skin, that it was hard to picture him smelling any different.

Wanna get out of here, beautiful?

She nods, and he reels her in, just like he did with the last one, and the one before that. He was the enticing bait on a hook, and they were the unsuspecting, curious fish that just had to go in for a taste.

You hear his warm laughter that echoes through the hot summer night air as he entwines his fingers through the woman’s hand and leads her to the bartop with nothing short of enthusiasm in his step.

“Evening, Starfish. Mind hooking up my lady friend and I here with a couple shots of tequila?” He’s dropped her hand now and rests his bare tanned elbow along the sea glass countertop. His other arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. His small grin is enticing, tantalizing and sending the butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. On the outside, you remain calm, collected, and professional.

“Good evening, Fish Filet. Sure, you want salt and lime on the side as well?” You smile politely at him and his catch of the evening.

“Fish Filet?” The woman giggles, dragging her nails across his bicep as she leans into his strong grip around her waist. “Is that your nickname, Frankie?”

He chuckles, ignoring her for a moment to focus all of his attention on you while he pulls out a five dollar bill and places it in the tip jar. “Salt and lime on the side as well. Thank you, Starfish.”

He usually never bothers to tip you, and it’s not expected given the arrangement, but you think that maybe he’s just doing it all for show so that his lady friend believes him to be a chivalrous man.

“You got it, Catfish.” You shoot him a wink before he even has the chance to open his mouth to spit something back.

Your face heats up at the realization of what you just called him while you turn your back swiftly and grab the nearest bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

Yeah, dollface. It’s my nickname because y’know, I’m a fisherman. He’s leaned in close again that the woman can feel his hot breath fanning her cheeks and parted lips.

Well, you don’t smell like a fisherman, Frankie.

His hand moves from her waist and slowly ascends upwards, drifting across her exposed cleavage before settling at the base of her throat, feeling her pulsepoint quicken and jump from his lingering touch. He presses a hidden kiss to the spot where the base of her ear connects with her jaw. His patchy, uneven beard tickles her skin as she lurches forward for even closer contact.

No, I don’t. He agrees, But I fuck like one.

Her knees nearly buckle in on themselves from the tone of his voice and the way that every word drips from his lips like warm, sticky, sugary sweet, syrup.

“Two shots of tequila on the house.” You announce, breaking through the building, palpable tension like a hot knife on a pad of butter. You can hear the sizzling sound now.

“Thanks, Starfish. You wanna take one too?” He offers, knowing that you’ll decline his invitation.

“Can’t drink on the job, Frankie.” You think about saying thank you, but for what? You don’t really owe him that either.

He shrugs, unfazed by your immediate choice to decline him as he returns his attention back to the woman beside him.

“You ever taken a tequila shot before, cariño? Goes down nice and smooth with a bit of salt and lime.” He slides the shot glass of shelf Tequila to her with ease while he grabs the two lime wedges and the salt shaker.

“No, I'm afraid I've been taking tequila shots wrong this entire time.” She might be lying, but you can’t really tell just based on her tone.

“That’s alright, beautiful.” He reassures her. “I’ll show ya how to do it properly.” He licks the back of his left hand before sprinkling a bit of salt on it. “Licking the salt before you take the shot really minimizes the burn on its way down.” He explains.

“Care to do the honors?” She asks while holding her hand out towards him.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the scene playing out in front of you, but that would give yourself away. And you’d be damned if Frankie ever knew how you really felt, so you busied yourself with wiping down the same glasses you had cleaned off earlier in the evening.

In your peripheral you see Frankie drag his tongue across the back of her left hand, his eyes flit upwards towards her face so she can get a mental image of exactly what he’ll look like when his face is buried between her thighs–

He pours a trail of salt granules on the outside of her hand and his own. “Now, we lick the salt, cariño, then immediately take the shot, and finish with the lime. It really brings the flavor of the tequila out.” He grabs his own shot glass and lightly taps it with hers before he licks the back of his hand, throws the shot down his throat, and grabs the lime wedge. He sucks the citrus juice from the fruit expertly just as she’s taking her own shot. Before she reaches for her own lime wedge, his hand drops to her waist, pulling her flush against his chest before he kisses her deeply. She’s surprised, but eager as her arms loop around his neck in the heated kiss. She can taste the salt, tequila and the lime juice on his tongue as he licks greedily into her mouth.

Get a fucking room, Morales. You say to yourself internally. The jealousy burns deep and is stoked at with a hot iron that scorches your insides.

That’s how a real man kisses, and I'll never know what it's like.

He pulls away from the bruising kiss just for a lick of air. His lips are slightly swollen, and now coated in a light pink shimmer from her pretty lipgloss. Her fingers are toying with curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I see what you mean about the salt and lime now, Frankie.” She purrs.

His eyes meet yours across the bartop, brow raised as he waits to see if this will be the night that you finally snap and show him that his attraction to you hasn’t gone blindly unnoticed. That maybe you’ll stop him from taking this woman back to his boat, stop him from fucking her till her legs shake, and the only name she’ll remember on her vacation is his; Frankie Morales, the fisherman. Whereas come morning, she’ll be gone, and he won’t even remember her name, just like the rest of them.

Instead, you stand there, eyes meeting him in an even-toned gaze. There’s no indication given on how you feel towards him, or that you wish it was you he was taking back to his boat. You simply smile, give him a small nod before you return to wiping down the glasses.

Only when his back is turned towards you, and you hear the scraping of the bar stool, and the light jingling of his keys being pulled from his pocket does your face finally fall, and your mask loses its place like loosened strings on a violin that hasn’t been properly tuned in a very, very long time.

His arm stays wrapped around his catch of the night as he leads her down the dock where his boat is gently bobbing with the evening current. He kisses her again, calloused hands from tugging coarse rope, and fastening fishing lines, now bunches up the fabric of her dress in a haste.

Through the open window at the stern of his ship, you can hear her breathy high-pitched moans, and his deeper, more prominent groans as he drills his hips into her pelvis over and over again, imagining it was you instead.

It’s an hour past closing time for the bar when his catch of the night finally stumbles from his boat, heels clutched in one hand as she wobbles up the dock. She’s close enough that you can see her face, and her wild mess of hair and swollen lips, and that post-fuck glow to her skin as she passes by you without a glance.

Frankie emerges minutes later, shirtless, boxers hung low on his lips, baseball cap on his mess of curls. In one hand he holds a cheap beer, and in the other, a joint and a lighter held between his middle and forefinger. He sits along the bow of his boat, sparks up the joint, before he lays on his back and gazes up at the starry night sky longingly.

banners made by the lovely @saradika

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and fic notifications!

[angellayercake]

Oh well @sakuraspoke if you insist on me rambling about Terzo who am I to refuse? ☺️

We know from some interview snippets about him that by the time he becomes papa he is bitter and he hates himself and he is somewhat of a recluse which is clearly a massive contradiction to the caring, entertaining, silly, sexy charmer we see on stage. That man seems a lot more in keeping with the description we see from Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis who describes Terzo during his time as a Cardinal. As being a visionary who cares for his flock and revels in sin.

So how did he get here and how does that relate to this song?

I think we can all agree that his hopes for what he would achieve during his reign as Papa were squashed very quickly. He clearly put up a fight and was starting to gain momentum by the end where perhaps he thought it might be possible (hence why he was dragged off stage, humiliated and murdered) but we can see that nothing really went to plan and this is what probably sent him down the spiral of depression and self hatred.

But to bring it all back to 'We'll never have sex'. He created a very specific persona that was very likable and charming and I have no doubt that those are aspects of his personality and he had no lack of partners within the Ministry and without. But they ONLY wanted the Charming Papa™ and when his darker side would reveal itself, his self loathing and dissatisfaction they would run for the hills, if they even stayed long enough to see it. Because he is Papa right? Sex god leader of the Satanic Church, champion of the female orgasm, he is above wanting to be loved or cared for.

He is lonely, depressed, hopeless and desperate for some connection. So he keeps up the facade, keeps accepting the one night stands and casual propositions just to stave off the loneliness for a night or two until he just can't anymore. He closes himself off and comes to terms with the fact that no one will ever want just him.

This is all my standard headcanon for him in general and most of my fics unless otherwise stated but this also leads specifically into banchetto so I will put that under a read more in case anyone doesn't care about that bit 😁

This is basically where he is emotionally at the beginning of Banchetto underneath the hurt about his removal from his position and his brothers interference etc.

So why does he do what he does to poor reader? Well I think personally he has forgotten how to relate to people romantically other than sex. He hasn't had a traditional 'relationship' for many many years probably since he was a very young man and first learned about falling in love and heartbreak.

When he realises that reader is attracted to him he also finds her a distraction from wallowing in his depression and even though he had grown to hate no strings sex he falls back on that easy seduction to give him that taste of connection he craves. That is until he realises how much he hurt her by playing with her and that's when he realises

1. He may have found someone who really does care for HIM not what they can get from Papa. She has seen him at his worst. Complete rock bottom and still she cares?

2. He is beginning to care for her too. He looks forward to seeing her everyday and the light she brings into his life. He wakes up earlier so he can be up as soon as she arrives and he wracks his brains for question after question so he can justify following her around as she works. It's only when she disappears for that week after he cornered her that he realises this though.

And this is why they are taking it so slowly (aside from the fact she really does have a job to do which he tends to forget and at this point has completely forgotten). She has picked up on the fact that this is unfamiliar territory for him and really there is no need to rush right? What could possibly bring their happy little domestic bubble to be popped??? 😈

On that note I will leave it there. If you have got this far I love you 😚😚

[silhouetteonpaper]

You’re Not Special

Summary: There’s only one goal for your first party as an Avenger: get the approval of Secretary Ross. It should be easy… right? Wanda Maximoff x Reader (featuring Avengers) WC: 1,276 Warnings: Partying, drinking, self conscious thoughts, men being annoying

Party tonight at 8. Play nice, I’ve invited Ross and his goons.

The text makes your stomach churn with worry, your first ever invite to one of Tony’s infamous parties. You’ve only been on the team for a few weeks, creating a flood of introductions with some new department every time there’s an event.

This time is different, though. If you’re going to make a good impression on one person, it has to be Secretary Ross. Not because he’s a high ranking U.S. official, but because he always gets what he wants. And if you appear as a threat to him, it’ll be like your career as an Avenger never even began.

Beyond the idea of meeting Ross, there’s more behind your growing anxiety. Tony’s parties are known to be big, booming events—something you’re not the most fond of. It’s one thing to wear a dress, and it’s another wearing it to the biggest party you’ve ever attended.

It’s like you can already feel everyone’s eyes on you, the newest Avenger. Asking themselves, ‘is she really capable of being on the team?’, ‘that’s who they recruited?’. The self doubt swirls your mind as your anxiety grows.

With just over an hour until the party, you know it’s best to get ready right away. The last thing you want is to appear unkempt and un-ladylike in front of the most important U.S. Official.

Just as 8:15 approaches, you’re strutting down the hallway in your nicest outfit. It’s hard to deny that you’re already tired from working meticulously on your hair and makeup, trying to get it perfect before heading downstairs.

You put on a look of confidence as voices echo up the hallway, a few familiar faces greeting you at the elevator.

“Wow, you really clean up nicely.” Natasha smirks as you stand beside her. Returning the smirk, Wanda joins in.

“You look great,” Her smile makes you perk up a little, the compliment going a long way. Maybe Wanda can see your lingering nerves, because she comments something else. “Don’t be nervous, I think Ross will like you.”

Her words force you to nod and take a deep breath as the elevator doors swing open to reveal a bustling floor full of people. Guests mingle about, drinks in hand as they throw out chuckles and smiles, some more fake than others. Tony’s right at the center, entertaining a large group with a drink in one hand.

You can easily feel everyone turn to look at you, the whole point of the party likely to show off the new Avenger. Keeping your head held high, Natasha and Wanda stand at your side with equally confident appearances. You make a path straight towards the billionaire at the center of it all.

He looks up as your heels clack toward him, sporting a grin as he waves the three of you over. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Tony tells you, stepping aside to reveal a tall man with white hair. “This is Secretary Ross.”

You stand up straight, holding out your hand to shake. He’s not as threatening looking as everyone described, but you can see why he might hold so much power. His handshake is firm, so firm you feel he might be trying to prove some kind of dominance. You squeeze his hand right back.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Secretary.” You smile sweetly.

“The pleasure’s all mine. I’m glad I can finally put a face to the name I hear so much about.” Ross responds, eyeing Tony. “Word has certainly gotten around about you. Hopefully you’re up to the task.”

There it is. You put on the most sweet smile you’ve ever managed, the anger bubbling inside. “Mm, I wouldn’t doubt it.” Nodding once toward Ross and Tony, you turn on your heel and walk away. A deep breath forces its way inside you, the toughest interaction of the night finally over with.

You feel a presence behind you the second you stand before the tall window, and sure enough a certain someone is right there at your side. “He’s all bark and no bite,” Wanda speaks, looking out the window. “You handled him nicely. As long as we keep him in his place, and stay in ours, there won’t be any issues.”

Pondering her words for a moment, you think back to all the terrible things people have said about him. “What about those accords I’ve heard so much about? Who’s to say something like that can’t happen again?” You question.

The pause Wanda creates turns uncomfortable as you watch the gears turn in her head. “I think he had a good reason for creating those—at first,” She finally says. You can tell she’s holding something back, but there’s no time to ask before she moves on. “But you’re right, if he sees any one of us as a threat, there will be consequences.”

“So how am I supposed to convince him that my extremely dangerous powers will only be used for good?” You ask, unsure what Wanda’s getting at.

“You can’t control others’ fear, only your own. Don’t think on it too hard, just do what you think is right. I trust that you’ll get by without any problem.” Wanda smiles, and just like that she’s gone.

Now left to your own thoughts, you contemplate her words over and over and find some sense in them. It’s not up to you how other people perceive you, you can only control your actions and the good you bring to the world everyday.

It’s enough to settle your nerves for now, and surprisingly the rest of the night goes better than expected. You mingle with each guest—introducing yourself for what feels like the millionth time, working through the crowd to find just how appreciated you truly are.

Every conversation brings a new complement. “It’s admirable what you’re doing out there,” someone voices. “I’m so glad we have people like you keeping our city safe.” Another comments. It’s fulfilling to hear all of these perspectives, yet at the end of the night one still continues to grind into you.

“It seems they really like you.” Ross’s voice echoes behind you as the crowd thins out for the night.

You turn and put on that same sweet smile. “I’m glad I can be a role-model for them.” Ross lets out a chuckle, leaving you to quirk your brow.

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He responds before saying his goodbyes. You’re left alone on the floor, the final remains of the team gathering amongst various couches.

“Don’t tell me he got to your head.” Wanda’s voice brings you out of your spiraling thoughts, the fear of messing up now returning.

You roll your eyes. “We wouldn’t want to give him that satisfaction.” The redhead guides you to one of the couches, sitting down beside you as a deep breath fills your lungs. “I think he hates me.”

“Ross hates everyone, you’re not special.” Tony sips at his drink. You smirk, fidgeting with your fingers. That’s the exact issue, you are special. So special that the U.S. government keeps a microscopic eye on you.

Wanda’s arm makes its way around your shoulder, and suddenly the worried thoughts begin to slip away from your mind. “Stop thinking too hard about it, I know you’re going to do great.” And just like that, you’re no longer anxious at the thought of being a terrible villain rather than a victorious superhero. The only thing you care about at this moment is spending time with those who make you feel like the great person you are.

[sane-omblog]

Delicious? (Part1?)

Aka story of Raphael and his mysterious taste bud

I don't know what I did, I just wanna try my hand on writing and this is an.. fever idea ig

I already wrote more but ermm yea will need some more time to finish it

Raphael was always an easy child, you told him to sit there, he sat, you told him to go to bed, he went. Even with food, he was also easy, he doesn't have any preference or hatred towards food. He eat veggies, fruits, any meats with no complaints.

The little angel was in the middle of flying lesson when the most easy and/or awkward question for a kid. He stared at two pots of soups, they smelled a little different from each other. "Which soup would you like?"

“It would be all the same to me, you can let the other choose first” he said, sure enough smell wouldn't change taste

“Awww what a kind little angel you are, Raphael” the older angel reached and pet him on his head. He liked it.

.

.

.

Raphael took a bite of the soup that was left for him, it's plain, bland, and didn't make any difference from other soup he had tried for all his life. The angel, his age, letting him try the other soup, seemed like she didn't like it and wanted to know if he liked this more and traded it.

It's the same, he couldn't tell what was different.

He agreed to trade it anyway.

.

Evening came, Raphael told his attendant what he did that day. Simeon, as always, smiled back at him and said “That's so nice of you, Raph.”

He paused, Raphael thought it wasn't bad to get compliments from such easy action.

“But I guess, I should find what your favorite food is, huh?” with chuckles, Simeon started to name random dishes while going to the kitchen and made them dinner. His wings moved while walking, always brought his attention away. "Oh I should make that today, what do you think about.."

He sure he would liked everything Simeon made for him.

"that's sounds nice" but maybe not as that sandwich the other day

But again, it's too bland on his tongue

“How is it?” Simeon asked him half of the meal

Raphael couldn't remember the name of what he'd just eaten.

He swallowed. “It's good”

.

Simeon said he misread the recipes and asked if he wanted him to make something real quick for his lunch today. "I should have wondered how all those ingredients never went well together, I'm so sorry Raph"

As a young angel at that time, he said "it's fine and I should get going to the training, I will take it, thanks"

Raphael ate it, the bread, the mistake of fruit jam, the strong spiced meat and some vegetables. He liked it. Everyone there knew Simeon was his guardian, and always wanted to try his food.

Of course he didn't mind, even though it's the first time he thought this is what delicious tasted like and wanted to have it all to himself.

The other angels took a bite with so much hope, especially after seeing him with such sparkly eyes.

But then they made a weird noise and said it wasn't any good as the rumor said.

“This is too salty!” they wailed

“Ugh the bad taste still on my tongue”

“Is the fruit he used rotten?!”

They whimpered about how bad it was, asking if he misunderstood the word delicious. Raphael didn’t think so, because if it's not delicious that means he wouldn't like it.

But he likes his food this way, so it's delicious. That's what he thought.

He felt some rage bubbling inside him, he didn't have any preference about other Simeon’s food but he knew that he's a great chef.

“Don't say that, you shouldn't judge it by just one time” he paused, didn't know how to describe what Simeon's food usually taste like, not even what he ate for breakfast. “He just busy and misread the ingredients this time”

It's true that's why he accepted this mistake of food in the first place, he didn't want to put any more loads of work onto archangel.

And it worked. They backed down, went back to enjoy their own lunch.

.

.

The next day they asked him to share again and agree that the food from his guardian was delicious after just one bite.

Leaving him missed that unique taste of jam with yet another bland taste.

[stareuphoria]

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀-𝐙

A = Agreeable

anton agree’s with alot of the things that you say, especially when it has to do with being introverted since you both are two introverts.

B = Bright

bright is a word people use to describe anton but it’s a word that he surely uses to describe someone like you. he has never met someone who has a brightness like you, and never will.

C = Cello

anton’s favorite instrument is the cello. it has been since he was a child, but he hasn’t in a few months … so when you ask to learn from him .. he is more than delighted to teach you.

D = Dear

anton’s favorite nickname’s to call you is "dear", and sometimes he thinks it’s a bit old fashioned but those thoughts go away when you tell him that you love the name a lot.

E = Easy - Going

anton is a very easy going person. he’s always been looking for someone to be the same , so after spending time with you he sees that you are the same. he knows, that you are the one.

F = Fun

anton is fun to be around especially when he is with you, he gets to much excitent by being with you. he knows you do too when you are tacking him onto the bed , after chasing him.

G = Gorgeous

anton is gorgeous and i mean GORGEOUS but he knows that there is someone more that one pis you and don’t say you aren’t because he’ll spend all day telling you the reasons you are.

H = Hero

he’s hero. anton is your hero , especially when you are in korea … not knowing the language much. he would be there to help you translate, getting you where you needed/ wanted to be.

I = Irrestible

anton loves you, he loves spending every minute with you, by your side. he can’t help it, your just so irrestible, but you know that 😜

J = Jazz

anton is into jazz, he loves listening to it now a days so when you ask him to put you on some, he is putting you on the best songs he knows.

K = Kid - Like

anton loves to play with bubble’s, swing and play roblox. some would say that those are kid-like things to do, but he disagree’s with that, so do you …. and forever will disagree.

L = Love

anton loves you with all his heart. he loves your smile, your hair, your eyes, he loves you and everything about you. his heart will be full of love for you till the day that he dies.

M = Motivational

anton is motivated when comes to his work but sometimes he gets tired … needing the extra push to have some motivation. luckily your there to motivation him , his good luck.

N = Needy

anton gets needy. when he gets does, all he wants is to hold you within your arms in bed, and give you multiple kisses, and snuggles.

O = Open

anton is open to a lot of things, he is definitely when it comes to food. there was this one time you put him on something he has never tried … since then he’s been a changed man.

P = Polite

anton sometimes is too polite for his own good. he can’t help it, that’s just his nature, but he wouldn’t be more polite to anyone other than you. holding the door open … etc etc.

Q = Quiet

anton loves it when it’s quiet at night with the two of you having dinner together while talking to each other. he loves times like this.

R = Romantic

anton’s has alot of romantic gestures. one of them is every year he loves to take you on a trip, a little vacation to a different country that you’ve never been. spending time with you.

S = Secure

anton’s makes sure you always feel secure no matter where y’all go, if he catches a man looking at you, he’d stare them down. there’s nothing he wouldn’t go to make you feel safe.

T = Tough

anton is secretly though. most people don’t know it, but especially you know it when it comes to the bedroom.

U = Uprising

anton will talk the time out of his day to uprise your spririts, even more when you are down in the dumps. he does anything to bring them up. lucky for him you can’t stay sad for too long.

V = Valuable

there’s a lot of valuable’s anton has but the one he values the most, keeping it the closest to his heart, is you.

W = Warm

anton’s body always manages to keep you warm during the cold nights of winter. his arm’s wrapped around your torso underneath the blankets is the most comforting thing.

Y = Yours

anton is yours forever and ever. no matter what happens in life he’ll always be your one.

Z = Zoom

anton is on his zoom when you both play hide & seek with him finding you, chasing you down the bed room where he pins you to the bed, giving you a storm of kisses.

[mamaskillerqueen]

Panic || Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: So, the title kind of gives this away but it does describe a panic attack as I have personally experienced them. Aside from that, it’s super fluffy. I hope you like it!

The Hard Deck was teeming with men and women in uniform, more so than usual. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed this fact but anxiety had been prickling just below the surface of your skin all week. There didn’t seem to be any particular reason as to why, and it’s been easy to stave off for the most part. Being swarmed by so many people in such a seemingly tight space had it bubbling again though.

Your civilian work friends had been super insistent on getting a few drinks at the bar after a particularly long day in the office. You swore that every time you looked back at the clock over an hour had gone by and that the minute hands were definitely lying to you. It was a Friday and no one needed to turn up early so it seemed like the most perfect night to have some team bonding anyways.

In hind sight, with the bubbling anxiety you’d been tampering down all week, maybe perfect night for bonding wasn’t quite accurate.

Everyone had agreed to buy a round for the table, a way of saying thanks and showing just how appreciative you all were of the things each one of you did through the week. Somehow you had managed to land yourself amongst one of the best sets of coworkers anyone could ask for. Not a single one of you didn’t gel with the others, you all meshed and complimented each other’s strengths in the work place. It helped you all got along outside of work as well.

Coworkers turned great friends did not mean, however, that you were comfortable sharing your anxiety struggles yet. So, as your turn to buy the round came up, you steeled yourself and elbowed your way to the very crowded bar. Having once upon a time ago been the one on the other side of the bar you waited patiently to place your order. You couldn’t pull your eyes from the very graceful and strong woman flying through orders like she’d been born specifically for this job. If you had pulled your eyes away, your certain panic would have settled into your bones from the claustrophobia of it all.

With your focus entirely on the bartender you hadn’t noticed the man dressed in jeans and work boots take up residence beside you. Nor had you caught the very intent look he was giving you. It wasn’t until he was fully crowding your space, so close you could smell the stale beer on his breath that you’d noticed he was there. It was a nauseating smell being mixed with his lingering sweaty body odour. You hoped he was so close because of the crowd but when you finally tore your eyes away from the bartender you realised that wasn’t the case.

The crowd you had to force your way through had thinned out as they had gotten their drinks and moved back to their normal haunts. There was no reason for this man to be so close, and the bubbling anxiety was quickly pushing in on panic. You forced yourself to offer a polite smile and nod before trying to turn your attention back to the bartender. She was very near through with her crowd on the other side, surely going to be making her way to you soon.

Just not soon enough. Before she could get to you, the smelly man had his hands on you. He was slurring his words in such a jumble that you couldn’t possibly attempt to understand them if you wanted to. And you didn’t want to. You swiped your hands between the two of you, trying to push his arms from around your waist. Blood was rushing in your ears, the sounds of the loud bar being muffled by your heart beat. Just as soon as you broke contact with the man, he was grabbing you again and pulling you flush against him. You couldn’t breathe.

Everything was happening in slow motion for you. Desperate attempts to break free eventually worked and your post at the bar to order a round was forgotten as you shoved your way towards the back patio doors. You pushed passed some men in uniform without every really seeing them. Tunnel vision had taken over, your sights set on the door and the ocean beyond. All your brain could chant was that it needed air. Had you actually taken any breaths in the last five minutes?

Tears had started to brim in your eyes, water piling in the corners without ever cascading down your cheeks. The fresh, salty air was helpful but the racing of your heart wasn’t slowing and the urge to be sick was clawing at the back of your throat. You had no idea how long you had been out there when the door pushed open again and foot steps started to close in on you. More adrenaline began to course through your veins as the flight response started to prickle the hairs on the back of your neck. That was until…

“You okay there darlin’?”

A southern drawl perked your ears up. The missing slur of alcohol settled some of the panic in your chest. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know this man speaking to you. You were just glad it wasn’t the one who had pawed you at the bar. When you turned around you were met with the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. They held a calm and steady strength that almost had you melting.

“No,” you answered honestly, your eyes still wild with panic.

Whatever the man had seen in you had him softening around the edges as he stepped closer. When you didn’t flinch away, he opened his arms in a gesture that had you nearly falling into his chest. Something about him just made you certain that he was someone you could trust, and it had nothing to do with his very pretty face or his nicely pressed khaki uniform. He just radiated comfort and security. His arms tightening around you only reaffirmed that for you. Already you could breathe a little easier.

“Can you smell my cologne, sweetheart?” He asked in a tone so soft and quiet it took concentration to hear it over the crashing waves behind you and the loud bar beyond the door. You twisted your face just a little, pressing your nose to his chest as you nodded in answer.

“What’s it smell like?”

His questions had you confused but you closed your eyes and sniffed, focusing on the different notes you could pick out. Your voice was muffled against his chest as you answered, taking a moment to sniff again between each pause.

“Woodsy. A little bit of leather. And, fuel of some kind, I think?”

There was a chuckle that vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your nose. You weren’t sure if you’d heard it clear enough but you knew that you wanted to make it happen again.

“Thatta girl. Good job. Now, can you feel my arms around you?”

If he could see your face, you’re almost certain he’d be met with a deep grimace of embarrassment settling into your features. Instead of dealing with that embarrassment though, you nodded your head and kept your face pressed into his chest. His scent was one that felt comforting, settling the nausea from the encounter you had at the bar who knows how long ago now.

“What’s it feel like, darlin’?”

“Warm, strong… safe.”

As you thought of what his arms felt like around you, you realised what he was doing. He was grounding you. Pulling you back to Earth like no one else every had. This random stranger had taken one look at you and knew exactly how to help. There was a peace in that of itself. Something so comforting about someone helping to keep you tethered to the world around you. He was pulling you out of drowning waters and you couldn’t have been more thankful.

“Alright, good girl. What do you hear now, sweets? Everything ya hear, I wanna hear it too.”

A smile tugged the corner of your lips up. This might be the calmest you’ve felt all week.

“Your heart, steady and strong. The ocean waves crashing the shore. Is that… Great Balls of Fire playing inside?”

The man holding you chuckled again, and this time you could hear it loud and clear. It might have been the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. Nothing was muffled by panic anymore and you were in complete awe of this strange man. You pulled back a little bit from his chest so you could look up at him now. He was smiling down at you, eyes bright and far less concerned than when you first saw them.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Anytime, darlin’. Happy to help.”

There was a gleam in his eyes that you’d never seen directed at you before. It was nice to see and you found yourself struggling to look away from him. Silence stretched between you, the only sounds were of the end of Great Balls of Fire being shouted in the bar, and the crashing waves.

“The man from the bar was thrown out, and Penny told him he couldn’t come back. You’re safe in there now,” he paused for just a moment before adding, “and if you ever feel unsafe, you just come find me.”

How do you respond to that? Is there a way to tell someone you’ve never met before that they’re your new found hero? Can it be any more awkward than just staring at someone with sheer adoration in complete silence?

“I will,” you finally settle on, “and thank you again. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

You saw a faint dusting of pink flood his cheeks as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. He shifted, almost like he was going to turn around and go back inside without another word. Something stopped him though as he turned back to look at you.

“You gonna be okay, darlin’?” He asked and you nodded that you would be fine.

“I’m just gonna take a few more deep breaths, maybe walk down to the water edge for a second. I’m good.”

“Well, I’m gonna to leave my number at the bar with Penny. Make sure you get it before ya leave.”

He tossed a wink over his shoulder at you before disappearing into the throng of bodies inside. You swooned. Neither of you had even introduced yourselves and yet you felt more comfortable with him than you’d ever felt with anyone else. You’d definitely be getting that number but after you dipped your toes in the ocean for a moment. You needed to know more about this gorgeous, mysterious man who just pulled you back down to earth like it was nothing.

[delulu-with-wandanat]

International Affair (Part 2) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Last

Reader Description: Masculine style, They/He, AFAB, International Student, 20 Years Old. Sometimes will be describe using masculine terms (man, boy, handsome, etc)

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x InternationalStudent!Reader

Warnings: Specified age gap (Wanda is 34), NSFW content (??)

Summary: Y/n finally got a job as a Barista, however they were only offering part-time. Wanda wants to keep them around as much as she can in the name of "extra work." Who is Y/n to say no?

They had always wanted to work as a Barista, thankfully Harkness Coffee was willing to hire someone without prior experience. Their first day was spent mostly on training with a senior barista, Kate Bishop. He learned that Kate was also studying at NYU. However, Kate was 2 years above him.

Kate was very nice and welcoming, she has a rather bubbly personality to her. Once they finished their training, Y/n headed to Wanda's immediately. Knowing the promise of an extra job in exchange for money, he was taking all the offer he could get. He knows that he should probably take it one at a time, but ay you gotta do what you gotta do to make ends meet.

They rang the bell and waited, feeling slightly nervous. Wanda opened the door and greeted him with a smile. Shit that damn smile. "Y/n, I almost thought you wouldn't come."

They smiled back at her as she opened the door wider to let them in. "Thank you, Mrs. Maximoff." He observed the house, it was lovely. The living room was decorated with many pictures of her family. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you, dear. Follow me." Wanda then leads them to her backyard and a pool came into view. Man, now would be a really nice time to swim, they thought.

"I merely need someone to clean up the pool, just light maintenance. I have a guy coming in once a week, but he's been sick lately. So I need you to clean up the leaves and debris, also brushing the walls. No need for chemicals." Y/n sighed in relief internally, he didn't know jackshit about pool chemicals.

"Consider it done, Ma'am!" He said while beaming at her, Wanda goes to rest on one of the pool bench to relax and read a book. Y/n got to work immediately.

This was a relatively easy job. Get a net, get those leaves, and then get paid. It was easy money. However, it is summer so the heat of the sun was starting to get to him after a while. They were wearing a jacket as well and felt rather sweaty. They decided to take off their jacket, revealing a white undershirt that was hugging their toned figure just right.

Wanda, who had been secretly observing them, almost choked at the sight. The way his shirt fit him perfectly had her mind going all over the place. She probably shouldn't be thinking about all the dirty things she wanted to do to them, but can you blame her?

20 year old heartthrob, amazing sense of style, respectful, hardworking, lowkey submissive, don't forget the impressive physique. Wanda couldn't help but want to use him for pleasure to get closer to them. Y/n checked all of the boxes of what she looked for in a sexual partner.

Yes, she was married. But in all honesty her husband, Vision, was very neglectful. All he cares about is his job, always on some business trip, and not to mention terrible in bed. He wasn't a bad guy by all means, but Wanda has needs to be met. What's wrong with having a little fun?

Feeling a pair of eyes on them, Y/n glanced at Wanda just in time to see her eyes roaming their figure while subtly biting her lips. Feeling a tinge of nervousness again he gave her a smile and a wave, "I'm almost done, Mrs. Maximoff."

"Take your time, darling. I don't want to rush you." This time they noticed the flirty undertone in her sentence, they decided to just focus on their job.

Once the pool was cleaned, Wanda approached them while carrying an envelope. "Well done, Y/n. Here is your payment."

He smiled sheepishly while rubbing his neck, he took the envelope. "Thank you, Mrs. Maximoff. But it's nothing really."

"I still need a couple of help around the house. Would you mind if I ever give you a call?" She tilted her head slightly with a subtle smirk.

"I-" They cleared their throat. "Yeah sure." He grabbed her phone and put down his number. Wanda was not-so-subtly staring at him up close. Studying their facial features. I bet their very good with their mouth, she thought.

When they look up, Wanda was in their personal space. They were entranced by her captivating green eyes. "Say, Y/n, do you have a girlfriend?"

"N-no I don't."

Wanda gave them her devilish smile once again, "Shame..." She made a move to grab her phone in his hand, brushing their hands slightly. "I wouldn't want this to go to waste."

Damn this woman, she knows what she's doing.

So for the next few days Y/n would go on to do numbers of odd jobs from Wanda. Of course his main work was still as a Barista, but they had to be honest, Wanda's pay was somewhat higher? He didn't understand why she would be so generous with her payments, but he wasn't complaining. He needed this money bad.

And Wanda would also get more and more bold with her flirt each day.

Lightly brushing their hands together when he worked on her garden. Making flirty remarks like; "I wonder what other things those fingers are good at." when she hired them to teach her 7 year old boys guitar. Or guiding his hand while he was chopping vegetables that one time she needed a 'cook assistant'

Unfortunately, Y/n doesn't seem to be responding back. It frustrates her slightly as all she wanted to do was have them absolutely fucking ravish her. Meanwhile, Y/n was just happy that he's making a lot of money. Turns out they were right. A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.

And Y/n was good at a number of things.

That's how they ended with more and more side jobs from other neighbors. Which caused a slight jealousy on Wanda's end. There's no denying that Y/n is a young hotshot that catches many other women's attention. Which is why the next time Y/n comes over, Wanda would have her ways.

Things are getting spicy-