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solesear · 17 days

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"Have you ever just kicked a shade with those burning feet of yours yet?" Etzel certainly would have by now if she had them.

the laugh that practically punches out of him is warm - fond. “once, much to the chagrin of both than and my father.” it's easy enough to recall, however, the light flickering at the corner of his lips dims with the passing thought of his father. it’s not enough to dissuade the memory; but still.

“i was nothing but a youth then; coming into my power as one oft to do.” he pivots; glancing toward the chaise nestled up against the looming mirror. “do you mind?” zag says, gesturing with his chin toward the stack of papers left in his wake; a request amidst their - his - reminiscing. “long story short, i shot through the procession line like a bolt in a bout of unrestrained power, maybe kicked a few shades square in their face as they tried to duck and weave around me - only to be plucked off the ground like a whelp by none other than achilles himself.” zag chuckles again, this time the sound much more subdued as he wakes from the lingering visages of the memory.

that was the day he learned how fragile ordinary souls could be — he never did ask what had became of that poor soul; too preoccupied reaping the sow of his punishment for his abandoned recklessness.

shoulders lift, a hand mussing through the crown of his ebony locks. “i’m sure achilles would gladly recant that story from his own perspective if you were to ask - as he’s rather keen to remind me of that day from time to time.”

#𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ⸻ main.#𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒﹐ 𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 ⸻ asks.#zag vc: i was but a boy #hypnos: your little rabbit feet burned 3 shades that day #hypnos: you should have seen the look on lord hades face

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missallanea-a · 6 months

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@yinbug : ‘ throwing the battle? looks to me like you just plain old lost the battle. ’ hear me out... shady → hero!mayura

She'd taken that last hit harder than she should have, and would undoubtedly be feeling the repercussions later. Still, some part of her couldn't bring herself to truly put all of her strength into fighting a child. Not when said child was little more than a puppet, a weapon being wielded through fear and pain.

"Choosing not to fight is not the same as a loss." Her words come through more certain than she feels, hoping that the way she struggles to catch her breath properly doesn't come through. "...and I'm sorry that you don't see that. I'm sorry that you think hurting others is the only way you can feel strong."

This was not the time nor the place, but certain instincts are not so easily ignored. She knows the girl isn't likely to take anything away from a mothering tone and a few kind words, and yet they fall from her lips nonetheless.

Taking a few steps backward, continuing to slowly urge herself closer to the ledge, she keeps her eyes trained carefully on Shadybug. "There's another way. When you're ready to face it."

random kingdom hearts quotes

#❮ yinbug / marinette dupain cheng ❯ ━━ ❝ and now is the time my moment to rise !#❮ nathalie sancoeur / answered ❯ ━━ ❝ silence can never be misquoted .#❮ nathalie sancoeur / au.01 ❯ ━━ ❝ it starts with one .#/ iconless because zag are cowards and i haven't figured out how i wanna represent her yet (because mayura just always. has >[ face)#/ anyway she's gonna take a header off the roof and hope she can catch herself fkghf #/ NATHALIE HAS NO SELF-PRESERVATION INSTINCTS ACROSS THE MULTIVERSE

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valerioeliogabalotorrisi · 8 months

Photo

Bathroom in Newcastle - Maitland Sauna - mid-sized contemporary dark wood floor and gray floor sauna idea with glass-front cabinets, light wood cabinets, brown walls and wood countertops

#glass balustrade #zig zag #spotted gum #sun #face mounted #led

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martiniluvr · 14 days

Note

I just read your NSFW alphabet and hear me out. Jason fucking reader in the batmobile, let the man play out his fantasy

may your harvest be bountiful anon. I was praying someone would ask for this muahaha 😈 you can find the prompt from the nsfw alphabet here ❣️

18+ minors dni

warnings: semi-public but not really 🏎️

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

you should probably have tried to sound a little more appalled when jason todd told you he’d ‘borrowed’ the batmobile, but there was something about the way he was sitting in the driver’s seat, with his red hood mask over his face, and his arm hanging out of the window, that weakened your resolve.

all it took was a cock of his head and a coy, “you gettin’ in, ma?” for your scowl to melt into a giddy smile. that’s how you found yourself here; zig-zagging through traffic in gotham with a barely-reformed crime lord piloting the in the batmobile like it’s a ferrari. sure, piss off batman. what could go wrong?

thankfully, you don’t have time to dwell on the thought as jason’s hand inches up your thigh, slipping under the hem of your short dress. “wanna take a detour?” he asks, and you can practically hear his grin under the mask. you glance over at him with a smirk as he veers off the city’s main motorway, heading towards the old harbour.

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason’s large hands knead the soft flesh of your ass harshly as you grind against him on his lap, dragging you along his rock hard length and drawing out another whine from your lips. maybe it’s the knowledge that you’re in the batmobile when you definitely shouldn’t be, maybe it’s that jason is in his full red hood gear, or maybe it’s just because it’s car sex—whatever the reason, there’s a sense of urgency between you that has you both rearing to go now.

you lean back slightly to unbuckle jason’s belt, your back bumping into the steering wheel as your hands move dextrously. “shit, you in a rush, princess?” he chuckles, but you barely hear him. your lower lip is between your teeth as you work fast to free his cock from his boxers, and he hisses in pleasure as you pump him gently, smearing his precum down his shaft. he reaches between your legs to hook his finger around your panties, pulling the gusset to the side.

his green eyes widen as he feels your slick drooling out of you—fuck, you really are in a rush. you align your hips with his again, teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. in the dim light of the setting sun, he can see the way your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and it sends heat rushing down his abdomen. you brace yourself on his shoulder with your free hand, sinking down on him gradually. you’re so wet that it only takes a moment to adjust to his size before you’re rocking against him again, and he pulls you back in for another hungry kiss, guiding your hips with his hands.

jason grins as he feels your cunt tightening around him when he brings his fingertips to your clit. “what, already, ma?” he teases, pretending his own release isn’t just moments away. “c’mon, that’s gotta be a new record.” you try to laugh, but he increases the pressure on your clit, and you arch your back as the coil in your belly tightens. shit, you realise, you’re about to cum in the fucking batmobile.

“fuck, jay, I’m so—” you begin, tangling your fingers in his hair. he cuts you off by sucking harshly at the delicate skin of your throat, and instantly you feel the coil snap. you cry out as you convulse around jason’s cock, slumping forward onto his muscular chest with a shiver. the sensation of your walls clamping down on him like a vice makes jason dig his fingers into your flesh as he pumps his own release into you, swearing raggedly as his hips buck.

the batmobile is silent apart from your heavy breaths, and the windows are conspicuously fogged up. you’re glad the harbour is deserted, or rumours might start circulating about what batman gets up to in his free time. jason runs his hands along your back tenderly, laughing to himself. “what?” you ask with a smile, picking your head up off his chest.

“that’s been on the bucket list for a while’,” he grins, and you giggle. you’re about to pull him in for another kiss when an incoming message from bruce wayne that makes your eyes widen lights up the dash. you know there’s a tracker in the car. I suggest you and your guest bring it back now. there’s a pause, and you and jason share a panicked look right as a second message comes through. in good condition.

#jason todd 🤝 defacing the batmobile #his beef with that car…unparalleled #luv u brucie xoxo #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #dc comics #batman #batfam #batmobile #fem reader #batboys

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coryosbaby · 4 months

Text

Alternative Payment <3

♡ content warning! Mdni, 18+ , innocent! Reader, manipulation, dark! Coryo

The guards of the cage are too easy to impress. As Coriolanus zig zags his way to the exhibit, he catches sight of you at the farthest corner. Your back is against a nearby rock, your eyes wide open unlike the other Victors. When you see him, you scramble to the bars. He smirks, watching your doe eyes look up at him through fluttering lashes.

“Did you bring food?” You ask your mentor desperately. Coriolanus nods, reaching into his bag to pull out a bottle of water and a sandwich made of wheat bread and ham. You take it, and begin to nibble on the sandwich eagerly. Coriolanus watches with something quite unclear in his gaze.

“Have they fed you at all?” He asks.

You shake your head, wiping bread crumbs off the corner of your plump lips.

“No. They didn’t give us water, either,” you explain, and begin to open the bottle that was graciously gifted to you. “Thank you, Coryo!”

Oh, so sweet. A girl with manners. Coryo looks back at the other victors. They’re all heavy sleepers.

When you finish up the sandwich, you chug the rest of the water down and hand the empty bottle back to him. He puts it back into his bag. You wipe your mouth, looking up at him with an almost happy grin on your face.

So innocent.

“Mmm..” Coryo takes in the sight of your pretty face, caked in dirt and twigs and god knows what else, and something twitches in his pants. “Got you something else, too. For my favorite victor.”

“Really?” Your eyes shine with curiosity. “What is it?”

Coryo chuckles. His fingers reach through the bars and smooth back your hair.

“Close your eyes.”

Your brows furrow, but you obey. As your lids flutter shut, you hear the sound of something clacking together.

“If you’re good and do what I say,” Coryo continues. “Then I’ll give you something else to eat. Okay?”

“Okay..” you say innocently, the grumbling of your tummy ever so prominent.

You jump. Something wet and warm touches your lips, and you hear Coryo let out a shaky sigh.

“Open up,” he breathes. “And don’t bite.”

Confusion riddles your face, but you obey simultaneously. The thought of food is heavy on your mind.

When the mysterious, meaty thing slides onto your tongue, your taste buds explode with something musky and salty. You hear coryo let out a whine, and the thing moves farther to the back of your throat. Your tongue brushes over it curiously, and Coryo lets out the loudest moan. Fear courses through you at the thought of the other victors waking up and seeing that your mentor is giving you something extra, but you swallow it down— sort of like the way you swallow down this mysterious wet thing in your mouth.

“God,” Coryo heaves. “Such a pretty little face.”

The thing in your mouth moves out, then back in again roughly. You let out a gag, your eyes welling with tears. You lave over the tip of the thing when it’s pulled back out onto your tongue again. Something slaps against your chin each time that it presses flush against your lips.

“Fuck,” Coryo says from above you. “Open those eyes f’me. Cmon, don’t you wanna see your present?”

You do want to see what’s inside your mouth, so with fluttering eyelids you obey.

It’s hard to see at first. You vision blurs, then clears. Coryo is above you, as you can see through the bars.And the thing in your mouth is…

Attached to him?

Okay, so you know basic anatomy. You know what it is— only, you don’t know exactly what it’s used for. Your eyes widen, seeing the look of bliss on his handsome face, the way his big hands grip each side of the prison bars like his life depends on it. He’s thrusting his hips into your mouth— that thing, a cock, as you heard the boys in your district call it, is slamming against your throat at a rapid pace. Looking up, Coryo’s eyes connect to yours and he laughs. It’s unsettling, a tiny giggle in the back of his throat, and you can’t help but feel something. Tingling, perhaps. In the same spot on you that Coryo’s cock is connected to.

“Suck it like a lollipop.”

Coryo’s words make you mewl, the remembrance of sugary sweets making your stomach swirl.

“Oh, honey,” Coryo continues, as you begin to lave over his aching cockhead. “Y’want one of those, don’t you? I’ll give you one, a special little treat. Tomorrow, before the games.”

You want to cry, just from the thought of a cherry flavored lollipop. You suckle him, just like the boy had asked, desperate to please him and get your stomach full. It isn’t long before his hips are stuttering, abs tensing, and his mouth is letting out quiet degradations.

“Dirty girl. Yeah, ‘m gonna cum. Gonna fill up that little tummy, baby.”

He demands that you pull off, let him move his hand up and down his shaft while your tongue lolls out. When his cum hits your taste buds, you let out a whimper. Not that good tasting, but not bad, either. However, the spot in between your legs begins to tingle more— and hurt. God, it hurts, and you can’t stop squirming to try and get relief. Looking back, you pray that no one had saw your endeavor with your handsome mentor.

When he tucks himself back into his pants, you’re still waiting impatiently.

“Sir?” You question Coryo softly. “Can I have something else to eat, now?”

Another unsettling giggle.

“Silly girl,” he says. “You already did.”

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churipu · 1 month

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PAINTING THEIR NAILS 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, itadori yuuji

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. none :)

note. i don't know, something about painting your partner's nails feels intimate to me. like, yes. make art on my nails pls.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

"what are you doing, baby?" gojo asks, his cerulean blue eyes gazing into the on-going television series playing in front of him.

you didn't answer him, brows furrowed in concentration — slipping your tongue out, a bit past your lips. index finger and thumb clutching onto the polish brush as you try to stroke his nails neatly with a light pink color.

"are you painting my nails?" he asks again.

much to his dismay, the room was void of answers yet for the second time. but gojo wasn't angry, his eyes finally gazes at your figure, eyeing you in content. his chin prepped on top of his free hand, limping the hand you were holding onto, "just a little more," you whisper to yourself.

three minutes passed and you pulled yourself back, "all done and dolled up, give me your other hand," you commanded, ushering gojo to give his other hand.

"good job, baby. they look pretty," he chuckles, indulging to your command — letting you have your fun, "can i do yours after?"

you nod, "mhm, i want to use (favorite color). and you gotta do it neatly too . . ."

gojo shrugs, "easy job to me."

it was in fact not an easy job to him.

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

"paint my nails?" geto parrots softly.

you stood in front of him, holding a grey colored pouch — that geto knew was filled with different colored polishes, he's seen you done your nails for fun and then erasing them just a few hours later because you were bored.

"yes, i want to paint them. can i?" you ask him, taking a seat right beside him on the couch, immediately letting yourself sink a bit into the fabric.

"mhm, sure baby. what color were you thinking?" geto raised his hand up to your thigh, letting you take over.

you hummed, "i was thinking . . . just a simple silver colored cat eye nails, you have pretty nails, you know?" geto, frankly, couldn't understand what you meant by that — cat eye on his nails? but you were his partner, and he trusts you.

it didn't take you long to finish a hand. his eyes never leaving your hand as they moved in slow strokes, "how do you think they look? i was watching a video on the internet, and i thought this might look pretty on you. 't looks a little different than what i saw though."

geto's gaze fell onto his nails, a smile popping up onto his lips, "'t looks pretty, thank you."

"really? you're not just saying that, right?" you ask, narrowing your eyes jokingly.

"nope, 'm being serious. do my other hand," he offers, leaning his lips to the top of your head, "ever considered opening a nail boutique? you have the skills for it."

"now that you mention it, maybe i should."

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"can you do my nails, please?" yuuji asks, wiggling his fingers in front of your face, "i want them to be painted prettily."

you raise a brow, "they're already pretty though."

yuuji puckered his lips out slightly, "but i wanted you to paint them for me," he draped himself over you, chin laying on your abdomen. brows furrowed like a baby, "make them look prettier."

"grab my nail polish pouch in the room, yeah?"

your words lit him up like a lightbulb, and yuuji was almost immediately up and about — disappearing into the room to grab the pouch you told him to. his giddy smile not leaving his face even when he came running back to you, laying the pouch on your tummy.

"i think maroon would suit you," you rummaged through the pouch, "or black? whichever you'd like . . ."

"can you do both? zig-zag?" yuuji questions.

you nodded, "mhm, anything for you, yuuji."

it was obvious that the boy was excited, his body trembling as you painted his nails, "woah . . . they look pretty," he whispers, squeezing your hand a bit.

"you're pretty," you replied back.

yuuji looks at you, a bit taken aback, but said nothing to deny you — only letting out a soft laugh, "too busy for a kiss?"

shaking your head, you leaned in towards him, stealing a kiss from his lips, "nope, never too busy for a kiss," yuuji huffs out with a large grin.

"i love you, you know?" he asked you.

"mhm, always. i love you too."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori fluff #itadori yuuji x reader

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cameronspecial · 2 months

Text

At Her Beck And Call

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Assault

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe may be out doing business, but he is never too busy for Y/N.

Masterlist

Everyone in the Outer Banks knows about Rafe’s explosive personality, especially towards the Pogues. The only person who is never at the wrong end of his anger is Y/N. He would never dare risk losing her by unleashing his anger on her. At the moment, she is safely at home, resting with their darling baby girl growing inside of her stomach. He is finishing up collecting the money from people who owe him from his drug dealer days. When he started dating Y/N, he stopped dealing less often; however, with a baby on the way, Rafe is ready to hang up the towel completely. Therefore, it is time for him to gather all the debts obligated to him. He finally tracks down the last person, Tanner Barrois. The Pogue is hiding out at a friend’s house but for enough money, anyone can betray their friend. Rafe bangs on the door as loud as he can and steps away from it. “What the fuck do you wan-” Tanner complains as he opens the door. Rafe gives him a wicked grin, “I want my fucking money, Asshole.” Tanner backs up into the house with his hands in the air. “I don’t have your money, but I can get it to you. I-I just need a few weeks,” he offers. Rafe shakes his head, “No, I already gave you three months. So where is my money?”

“I don’t have it!”

Rafe grips the front of Tanner’s shirt and slams him against the wall. His arm cocks, rushing towards Tanner’s nose at a fast pace. The room is silent, except for the sounds of Rafe’s fist hitting Tanner, until “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran begins to play out of nowhere. Something vibrating accompanies the song. Rafe keeps Tanner against the wall with one hand, while his other hand goes into his pocket for his phone. He brings it to his ear with a soft smile, “Hi, Dumpling. How are you and little dumpling doing?” “I’m hungry, Rafey,” the pregnant woman whines with her hands on her perturbing stomach. He chuckles, “And what can I pick up for you on my way home, Dumpling?” “I want Trader Joe’s French Vanilla ice cream, soya sauce, pickles and mayo please,” she pleads into the phone. He grimaces, “Please, tell me you aren’t going to eat all of those together.” “I don’t know yet. I guess you’ll have to find out when you get here,” she teases, knowing he gets grossed out by her weird pregnancy cravings. He sighs, “I guess I will. I’ll get those for you once I’m finished with my business. Okay? I love you.” “Thank you. I love you too. Bye,” she hangs up without another word.

The phone gets slipped back into his pocket and his attention returns to Tanner. “Now, where were we?” He punches Tanner again, shaking his hand out to try to rid himself of the blood. “I’m going to ask you again. Where is my money?” Rafe growls. Tanner whimpers, “I can get it to you by next week.” Tanner receives another blow to the head. “Not the answer I was looking for. So let’s try this once more,” Rafe warns, but he is again interrupted by the chime of his phone. “Is everything okay, Dumpling?” he worries into the speaker.

“It needs to be the tiny pickles. I don’t want the large ones. I don’t want the zig-zag cut ones or the straight-cut ones. I want the tiny ones. Okay?”

“Yes, I know, Dumpling. I promise they will be the tiniest ones I can find.”

“Good, thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dumpling. Goodbye.”

Tanner’s face is in a bloody smirk. “What the fuck are you smiling at?” Rafe questions, digging his forearm into the Pogue's neck. Tanner gasps out, “You are so whipped for her.” Rafe’s eyebrows cave in and he strikes Tanner’s stomach. “Be careful what you say next, Motherfucker,” Rafe alerts. Tanner appears to have a death wish as he says the next sentence, “That bitch has your balls in a death grip and it’s pathetic.” His phone rings once more before he can reply. “Dumpling, you are really making me concerned about you,” he sighs into the phone. She pouts, “I’m sorry. I just wanted something to drink too.” “It’s okay, Dumpling. I want you to stay hydrated. So what can I get you?” he inquires. “Iced tea, please. And I promise this will be the last time I’m going to call. I’m going to take a nap while I wait for you to come home.”

“Iced tea, coming right up. Enjoy your nap, Dumpling. I’ll see you when I get home. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Rafey. Thank you. I can’t wait for you to come home. Muah.”

The line goes dead and he can’t help but put his phone away with a massive grin on his face. He weakens his hold on Tanner, “You better be thanking the lord that I am whipped for my girl because it is the only reason I am giving you another day to get the money. Don’t try to run because I will find you and your punishment will be so much worse than you can imagine. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to go to Trader’s Joe.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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megistusdiary · 3 months

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you..... got me shaking at the mention of supernatural creatures.......

i know it's done and over but... werewolf!wriothesley, with his big fluffy ears masquerading as his hair, sharp pointy fangs that he tells you is just for aesthetics, big strong meaty arms that can pin you down whenever the two of you would have some play time (you don't know why he really likes hunting you down in his forestry backyard but you have to admit the adrenaline from that was oh so good)

but he doesn't really explain the tail.

so in a full-moon when his instincts are the most sensitive, his senses zeroing on you, his heat at an all time high... 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

werewolf wriothesley

werewolf!wriothesley x sub!fem (anatomy/pronouns reader)

warnings: smut (mdni), hunting kink(?), werewolf wrio, fucking in the woods, cunnilingus, fellatio, penetration, riding, knotting

your breaths came out in soft pants, each step taken clumsily as leaves crushed beneath your boots. you couldn't help the quiet laughter pouring from your lips as you glanced behind you, scanning the trees and slowly darkening sky.

he was watching you, chasing you, but always staying one step behind. allowing you to think you were oh so clever with your zig-zag patterns of running and sneaky faux footprints in the mud.

he watched as you stopped, just like a curious little bunny to lean against the tree and look up at the stars. your chest heaved as you caught your breath, only to be cut off by a yelp when a hand covered your mouth and wriothesley dragged you out from behind the tree.

"got you." he grins from behind you. his tail swings madly behind him, thwacking your leg as his nose trails up your cheek. he can feel you shiver as he lets go, instead squeezing your cheeks and tugging your jaw to face him.

you look so cute in the rather clunky (and protective) boots and outer baggy clothes he had you wear. even if he so desperately wanted to chase you around in nothing at all, he knew you were soft, your skin was delicate, soles not made to tread bare on earth.

he tugged the clothing right off of you, hearing your surprised gasps now that your mouth was free. your face felt hot as he slid his jacket onto you, purposefully leaving it unzipped to expose you while protecting your back from the harsh tree bark.

he all but tore your undergarments off, falling to his knees as he inhaled deeply against your pussy. your thighs instinctively tried to close, and he used minimal force to push them back open.

his hands covered your thighs, pulling them up to rest on his shoulders as he supported your weight. your hands slid into his hair, gripping the strands out of embarrassment as he looked up at you. he almost looked like a sweet puppy.

that was until he leaned in to lick a long, fat stripe up your cunt. your chest arched up instinctively, thighs clenching around his head. his sharp nails dug into the skin of your thighs as he practically pulled your hips to fuck his tongue. he slid your pussy up and down his tongue, wiggling it into your hole, groaning at how you clenched on his tongue.

"so good for me, sweetheart." he mumbles, leaning back to spit on your pussy before using the wetness to circle your clit. when he feels your thighs start to shake he grins wildly. "gonna come for me, huh?" he asks.

your grip grows soft on his hair, clumsily rubbing at the bases of his ears, and he groans, sucking your clit harder until you finally come on his tongue. he can't help his excitement, tail wagging as he maneuvers you both to the ground.

he lays on the ground first, letting you sit propped up on his abdomen. you look so small on him like this, still shaking from your orgasm and he gently tugs his jacket off of you, tossing it to the side and nudging your hands to his belt.

you undo the leather and pull his pants just enough to free his cock. he's completely swollen and red, hips jutting up. "shit... come on, pretty girl..." he urges, whining lowly.

you lean down, moving any stray hairs away as you lick at his tip. your mouth opens wider, trying your best to accommodate him as you take him slowly.

it takes all of his patience not to push you further and fuck your throat, his hands clenching as you take your sweet time. the minute he decides his dick is wet enough, he pulls you off roughly, situating you in the perfect position to ride him.

"go on, good girl, so good-" he groans as you slowly sink down. his nails dig into your skin while his other hand rubs messy circles into your clit to ease the stretch.

"wrio... it's... too much-" you whimper so sweetly, it makes him almost feel bad.

almost.

"i know, baby, i know. you can take me though, yeah? you're my good girl... need to fill you up so bad." he pushes his hips up and you nearly lose your balance, and he laughs. his fingers dig into your hips, gently pushing you further down until your pelvis meets his, and your head falls forward.

he's practically white-knuckling your hips now, little thrusts here and there as your pussy practically suffocates him. he can hear how wet you are, all from the thrill of the chase.

"i think you're just as dirty as i am, sweetheart." he grins, lightly pinching your clit before he takes the liberty to bounce you up and down. he can't get enough of your soft whines, the view of your body, unobstructed by any clothing.

your eyes might not adjust well to the dark, but he sees everything just fine. his ears twitch with every sweet little moan you make, tail wiggling around as he fucks you faster and faster.

"close... close, wrio." you warn and he nods, rubbing your clit for you.

"can you- fuck- think you can take my knot, sweetheart?" he asks, and in your little haze, you nod enthusiastically, feeling it knock against your cunt.

"need it- i can take it... please." you plead, body falling forward a little.

he continues to push the limits, fucking you deeper until he shoves his knot inside. he rubs your clit as fast as he can, pressing deeper as you shake, releasing at the same time he fills you up.

your body is limp, held upright by his hands until he pulls you down. he smooths a hand down your back as you rest on his chest while he lulls you to sleep, promising he will carry you home safely.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #fem reader #wrio smut #wriothesley x you #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #✎─𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 ❛ ༉‧₊˚#💌─𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭! ༊*·˚

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sporadicbeans82 · 2 months

Text

Pool Party || Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You have a crush on a certain someone who seems intent on ignoring you. Your teammates decide to do something about the tension between you and Jessie.

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), It's a little smutty?, Grinding/Semi public sexual content?, Mutual pining, maybe a swear word, a smidge of angst if you squint, mostly fluff, no editing so good luck soldiers

Word Count: 3.5k words

A/N: I'm not really sure what this is, but enjoy?

From the second that you’d met Jessie Fleming, you’d been trying to figure out ways to get closer to her. Of course, you found her to be incredibly attractive and had known of her existence ever since you’d faced off against the Canadian midfielder in a friendly. It had been an especially important game for you, as you’d made your senior international debut that very day.

That day, and every day since, the way Jessie played entranced you. Everywhere you stepped, the girl was your shadow, slipping in front of you and intercepting balls that were sent your way, and then zig-zagging around you whenever you tried to take that ball back. The girl had been a pain in your ass in that game, to say the least, but it had been a massive learning experience for you, and it had lit a passionate fire inside of you.

As you’d gone up against her again and again, you found more reasons to like the girl. The way her cheeks reddened as she played, and the physicality she showed in her playing style. However, it became more than that– the respect and kindness with which she approached other players and fans, and the way she interacted with a child in her jersey, lifting them up to take a picture with them and sign their jersey. The more you played with the girl, the more you noticed about her, and the more you wished you knew more.

After a few games of playing against each other, you managed to gather up the courage to ask to swap shirts after the match. Jessie had given you a hug, shyly congratulating you on your performance. You noticed that, under the scent of sweat and grass, the girl smelled of cinnamon, and her embrace was warm.

You were shocked that night when your phone had pinged from your nightstand on your bedside table. You’d leaned over to check, and saw a notification that Jessie had followed you (back) on Instagram. You were nearly over the moon, the grin which split your face open quickly noticed by your teammates around you. You were quickly the butt of many jokes and teasing words, but you didn’t mind as Jessie had followed you back.

Did that mean you were friends? Were you overthinking it? You were totally overthinking it. You contemplated sending Jessie a message, maybe congratulating her for how she’d played, but you never gathered the courage that was required to perform such a daunting task.

You’d always thought that your little crush would be just that, a crush. Admiring the girl from afar, but never getting close enough to get to know her in a way that would turn the crush into something more. You’d accepted that long ago, having almost moved on from Jessie and the childish crush you’d had on her.

However, the announcement that Jessie was coming into the NWSL, to your very team, shocked you to your core. You would have been lying if you’d said you still didn’t have feelings for her, although you managed to push them out of the way to make room for… friendlier feelings. Now that you were, essentially, coworkers, you felt that it would have been inappropriate to harbor the same crush that you’d had over the years, especially as you were certain that it wasn’t returned.

While you knew that Jessie didn’t have the same feelings towards you that you had for her, you were still confused as to why she almost acted as if you didn’t… exist. She brushed off each of your attempts to go out and explore the city together and show her around. She would give you small smiles every time you greeted her each morning for training, but rarely returned your greeting. In the rare occasion that she was paired with you in training, the girl rarely even looked at you, nevermind speak.

You would have believed that Jessie’s attitude was due to her being new to the team, but she was getting along quite well with the rest of your teammates. Fairly enough, she spent much of her time with her fellow Canadians, Christine Sinclair and Janine Beckie.

However, she was often found talking with Sophia Smith or juggling with Olivia. She was rather friendly with quite literally everybody on the team… everybody but you.

Your mind pondered listlessly over what you could have done to upset Jessie. You couldn’t remember having made any reckless tackles on her, or said anything rude to her on the field. Sure, you had a reputation for both… but you hadn’t done either to Jessie. Sure, maybe you’d told one of her teammates (you think it was Cloé Lacasse?) to shove her boot where the sun doesn’t shine after it had clipped your shin as she’d tried to snap the ball away from you. But it wasn’t as if you’d said anything overly criminal to Jessie herself, or even to any of her teammates.

Weeks went by in the same manner, with you quietly pining over Jessie whilst simultaneously trying to figure out what you’d done to upset her. What you didn’t know, however, was that Jessie was having almost a similar internal debate as you.

She’d noticed during the game that you’d debuted for the United States Women’s National Team. She never would have admitted it then, but you’d given her a run for her money despite it being your first time competing internationally. Jessie had had to pull out all of her stops to keep you from slipping past her, and she’d finished the match absolutely exhausted.

Since that match, she’d kept a careful eye on you and your development– both as a player and a person. She watched as you grew out of your shell, into an opponent who was consistently relied upon by your teams. She noted how you gained confidence in the way you played, taking risks that a younger you would have shuddered at and they worked each and every time.

Jessie couldn’t deny that any time one of your highlight reels or edits popped up on her phone, she’d watch the entire thing through.

Sometimes, if the… music… was really good, she’d watch it a few times. Purely to take notes on your tactics, of course, not because she wanted to take in every ounce of your existence that she could on the pixelated phone screen. Totally not because, sometimes, and only sometimes, your eyes made Jessie’s stomach do flips and turns in her stomach, or that your smile made Jessie feel almost… lightheaded.

She actually despised herself for how long it had taken her to follow you back on Instagram, since she rarely used the app and had never seen that you’d followed her in the first place. It had taken a search for your name for your page to come up, and she’d felt almost… giddy, when she saw that you’d already followed her.

Jessie wasn’t stupid, she knew that the way she felt about you was more than purely platonic. When she came to Portland, she knew that she needed to bury those feelings that she had for you, as there was no way that you’d feel the same back.

And so, she tried to remain nonchalant when she interacted with you. She smiled at you, nodding in greeting when you said hello to her each morning, and she made sure that the relationship between the two of you was like one between coworkers.

And so the two of you continued, quietly pining for the other. Your teammates were growing tired, having long ago noticed how you’d stare at Jessie and look away when Jessie looked towards you. Jessie would do the same, zoning out as she looked at you and quickly diverting her gaze whenever you’d turn to look at Jessie. Your teammates felt the tension between the two of you, and it was, admittedly, a little bit awkward for the others.

It was Sophia’s idea to have a team bonding night to see if they could get you two, and the rest of the team, a little bit closer. You weren’t even sure whose house you were at, but you were instructed to bring a swimming suit, as you were having a day out in their pool.

Of course, you forgot a swim suit… and nearly died when you arrived just as Jessie was doing a cannonball into the pool, causing a wave of water to cascade down onto her Canadian teammates, who all looked displeased. Jessie stuck her tongue out at them from inside of the pool before treading water to get to the side.

She used her arms to hoist herself out of the pool, and your mouth grew dry. You actually raised your hand and wiped at your chin to make sure you weren’t salivating. You cleared your throat awkwardly as you caught sight of Jessie’s hard abdomen and muscular arms as she pulled herself free of the water.

Diverting your attention elsewhere, you could feel how heated your cheeks were, and Sophia caught sight of you from across the pool. She smirked, before making her way over to you.

“You made it! I wasn’t sure you were even coming, you sure took your time.” Sophia’s words were light, teasing. You smiled at her, feeling suddenly shy after Jessie’s unintentional… show, you supposed. How did one achieve the arms and abs of a Goddess? You wondered if you should ask Jessie, because there was no way someone could look that good without even trying and, quite honestly, you wondered how her muscles and silky skin would feel beneath your ha-

“If you’re going to pass out on me, give me a heads up so I can record it, please.” Someone snarked, breaking you out of your reverie. You turned to see another of your teammates, Olivia Moultrie, grinning at you.

Behind Olivia, you watched as Jessie did a flip into the pool, the move causing your stomach to do its own flips. Your cheeks managed to redden impossibly further, and you shook your head slowly. Have flips always been so attractive? You never remembered having been so captivated by-

“Not gonna pass out.” You mumbled, and Sophia frowned.

“It’s pretty warm out today, are you sure? Maybe you should hop in the water, just in case.” Sophia said, voice almost… faux in its concern. Your brows furrowed, and you shook your head again.

“No– I’m oka-”

Hands were on your shoulders, pushing you towards the pool. Before you knew what was happening, you were being shoved into the pool. You shouted out as the ground disappeared from beneath your feet, not at all having been ready to take a plunge into the water.

You fumbled around, hands slapping uselessly at the water. That was the other issue that you’d never mentioned– you didn’t know how to swim. Nobody had ever bothered teaching you, and by the time you’d realized that it would have been a useful skill to have learned, you were utterly consumed in soccer and it was too late.

You kicked uselessly at the water, unable to keep your head above the water long enough to catch anything more than a short gasp of air before you were underwater again. Against your will, you were panicking. Your lungs were burning, legs burning and stomach heaving as you fought feebly against gravity and the liquid which was keeping you from air.

Then, strong arms were around your middle, dragging you up. Your head broke the surface of the water, and you coughed out as you were finally able to take a deep breath of fresh air. You tried to kick out, to get out of the water, but the arms around your stomach just held you tighter. You were pulled against a hard body, and someone was breathing harshly in your ear. Over the scent of chlorine, you smelled cinnamon, and as the person spoke you felt yourself relax against them.

“Hey, hey I’ve got you. Calm down. You can touch the ground here. It’s not too deep.” Almost… tentatively, you allowed your feet to reach out and touch the ground. Instantly, you grew embarrassed, having nearly drowned in water that was barely reaching your chest. You’d panicked, and immediately you started apologizing to Jessie, who had just been forced to “rescue” you from four feet of chlorinated water.

What a way to impress your crush. You were a loser.

From above, you saw Sophia appearing a little sheepish, giving you a little smile as she waited to see what your reaction was to being pushed in the water by her. You glared at her, shaking your head.

“A little warning next time would be nice.” You said, and you heard Jessie huff out a short laugh from behind you. You would have done anything to hear that noise again. In fact, you were trying to push all of your attention onto Sophia so that you could avoid thinking about Jessie’s skin on yours, her arms still wrapped firmly around you. You felt safe.

“It’s not like I expected you to drown in four feet of water!” Sophia defended herself, trying arduously to decipher whether you were truly angry or not. You knew that the girl had meant no harm and, after all, it had been a pool party. You had expected to get wet, and you should have had your suit, and it wasn’t as though she knew you couldn’t swim– it wasn’t a fact you bragged about, of course. In that moment, you decided to forgive Sophia, and Jessie swore she fell for you a little more.

You could have, and had every right to, rip Sophia a new one for shoving you into the water, but you’d chosen not to. Instead, you laughed off the event, and Sophia appeared to calm down as well, laughing with you.

Then, Sophia dismissed herself, saying she was going to go grab a towel for you.

The rest of your teammates had forgotten all about you already, consumed in their own antics. Now, it was just you and Jessie. Jessie, whose arms were still wrapped around you.

Before you could lose courage, you turned yourself around so that you were facing the black haired girl. If you wanted to, you could have leaned in just the barest amount and kissed Jessie. Something told you that she wouldn’t have minded, if the way she looked down to your lips as you turned was anything to go by.

Instead, you spoke.

“Thank you– for saving me.” The words were pathetic, causing your cheeks to redden again. Jessie laughed a little, the sound setting off the butterflies in your gut once more, something which you felt was a constant when it came to the Canadian midfielder.

“I’d hardly call that saving. It was like watching a fish drown in water!” You frowned at the analogy, glaring at the girl and catching her eyes. You knew what drowning felt like, having felt like you were drowning only a few minutes before.

Even still, the way you got lost in Jessie’s gaze was an entirely unique way of drowning, and one that you would have happily drowned in any day.

“I thought I was drowning!” You defended yourself, voice rising in pitch as you laughed a little bit. You felt Jessie’s chest rise and fall as she breathed, so close that the two of you were practically breathing the same air. The thought was driving you nearly mad, so close to everything you’d been thinking about since you’d ever met the girl, nearly unable to hold yourself back.

“Clearly! You looked like you were drowning, too.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes nearly teasingly, and when your gaze returned to Jessie, you realized she was back to staring at your lips.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, and Jessie swallowed, throat bobbing in a way that conveyed intense nervousness at the question you’d posed.

Jessie had spent years pining over you, had swallowed down her feelings and pushed them to the side more times than she would ever be able to count. She’d done it in the name of her career, and in the name of her team.

Now, however, she wanted to do something for herself. She had forgotten about the people who surrounded the pool, her new teammates who weren’t really paying attention to the two people in the pool anyway.

Jessie’s soft hand came up to cup your cheek, and her eyes met yours again.

“Just a really pretty pair of eyes, and a gorgeous face, and really kissable lips. Speaking of– could I-” Jessie was, as always, cursing herself for how incredibly awkward she sounded. She’d wanted to sound suave, and cool, and calm and collected but her heart was beating like a jackhammer in her chest, so loud that she felt you could hear it if you were paying attention.

As it had it, you were busy paying attention to your own heart, which was threatening to beat right out of your chest. You were wondering if you were having a heart attack as you allowed your hands to loop around Jessie’s neck, clasping behind her head and tugging her into you further.

Just before your lips met, you whispered. “Please, do.”

And so Jessie did. Your lips met, and everything in the background seemed to blend into nothingness. You almost felt like you were back underwater with how everything faded but Jessie. All you knew was the feeling of Jessie’s lips against yours, moving fluidly against your lips.

Hers were smooth, and she sucked on your bottom lips gently as her other hand stroked at the skin of your hip, having strayed beneath your t-shirt. The kiss was gentle, and a little bit reserved, and a part of you would later be mortified at how you were making out with a “coworker” in front of your other “coworkers” but another part of you knew that you’d waited so, so long for this moment that you were completely unwilling to live more of your life without experiencing a kiss with Jessie.

It was short, so much shorter than you wanted it to be. However, as you pulled away, Jessie’s cheeks were red and she looked at you almost… shyly.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to do that again,” You decided for the both of you, and Jessie nodded eagerly, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the steps of the pool. “Where are we going?”

Jessie continued to tug you behind her, around the corner of Sophia’s house and towards a shadier area, away from prying eyes. As soon as everyone else’s gazes were off of you, Jessie was tugging you into her, turning so that you were pressed up against the fence.

“We’re doing that again, of course.” Jessie said, before pressing her lips back against yours.

Her lips were firm against yours, taking and taking and taking from you as, once again, she sucked and nipped at your bottom lip. She swallowed a moan that escaped your lips, making sure to keep quiet despite the loud music which boomed from a speaker where the rest of your teammates were.

Pressing up against you, Jessie ran her hands up and down your sides, tongue slipping into your mouth as you parted your lips again. The pleasure that you felt was immeasurable. Everywhere Jessie touched was alit in flames, and you felt like you were on fire.

Jessie’s tongue slid against your own, exploring you in a way that she’d never had the chance to do before, and which she planned to do again and again and again.

Before Jessie could really think, her knee was pressing up against you, between your legs. Her thigh was flexed, meeting the area where you throbbed for her, and another moan burst from your lips.

You rolled your hips against her, the friction rubbing deliciously where you needed it most, and Jessie swallowed yet another moan from your lips. You knew that you couldn't get too carried away, given that your teammates were only a few feet away, separated by a wall. However, you couldn't help it.

Jessie had basically lost all sense of control by now, but as she heard someone ask where the two of you had gone, she was quick to back up. You were panting, but had also heard Sophia ask where you’d gone off to.

Jessie stepped into your personal space again, fixing your wet shirt and pants for you before planting a firm, but quick, kiss against your lips.

“How about we go out for dinner tonight? We can… talk about this.” Jessie, despite having you completely desperate and wanting for her minutes ago, was back to being awkward and uncertain. You nodded slowly, leaning over and planting a kiss to her cheek before the two of you reappeared from behind Sophia’s house.

Sophia glanced at the two of you, before a sly smile grew on her face as she realized that her carefully plotted plan had worked, taking in your reddened cheeks and disheveled states. After handing you a towel to dry off with, Sophia was quick to pull out her phone and text her separate group chat with just a few of your teammates.

Soph: “Operation Pool Party: Success”

#jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #nwsl #woso one shot #harper writes

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munson-blurbs · 9 months

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you.

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie.

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.”

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’”

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room.

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why.

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?”

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.”

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home?

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson.

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!” Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?”

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising.

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man’s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.”

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees.

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling.

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him.

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

��Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking.

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him.

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket.

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety.

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face.

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall.

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now. “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce.

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?”

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it.

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak.

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline.

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion.

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’”

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years.

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin.

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before.

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other.

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bookyeom · 3 months

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such a headache - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.9k warnings: a couple of swears i think, kissing, seungkwan being unfairly cute summary: You have really bad migraines, and a great boyfriend.

A/N: This one's for us, @wheeboo.

You haven’t been dating Seungkwan for very long when the first migraine hits.

It’s not your first migraine. It is the first migraine you’ve had since you started going out with Seungkwan, though, and you don’t know how he’s going to handle it. You should have known that telling him you have to cancel on a date because you’re sick wasn’t going to help, though.

You hear the doorbell to your apartment ring. Once, twice, and then your phone is ringing, and you’re suddenly afraid that the noise might make you throw up. Your doorbell rings again, and you groan, forcing yourself up and to the door. You're not sure how you make it, but you do.

“Hi,” your boyfriend says breathlessly when you open the door, and you wince at the brightness of the shitty apartment hallway lights. You do manage to vaguely register how cute he looks, though.

“Hey.” Your hand lifts to your forehead and you push in on it, an attempt to stave off the pain that’s beginning to increase, your eyes squeezing shut.

“Are you okay?”

You forgot where you were for a second, your eyes peeking open to look at him again. He’s got a couple of grocery store bags in hand, and you wince.

“Honestly, I feel awful right now.”

Seungkwan steps forward and you let him in, closing the door behind you. He sets his bags down and then he’s pulling you in for a hug. You rest your forehead against his chest, reveling in the warmth of it against the place where your impending migraine looms. You almost whine when he pulls away, hands on your biceps as he assesses you.

“What’s wrong? Is it your stomach? Do you have a cold? I brought stuff for everything, just in case.”

“Headache.”

Seungkwan looks surprised, a hand lifting to press against your forehead. “Do you have a fever? Chills? Runny nose?”

Your eyes squeeze shut again, leaning into the warmth of his palm. “Migraine, Seungkwan. I get really bad migraines.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Did you just apologize?” You shrug, and Seungkwan tsks. “Do you need Advil or Tylenol? I have both.”

“Advil would be great.”

Seungkwan instructs you back into the darkness of your room. You have no idea what he’s going to do, but you willingly oblige, another apology on the tip of your tongue before you see the look on his face and decide against it.

By the time your door cracks open, the pain has begun its increase. Seungkwan enters and you swallow the Advil he offers with a glass of water. He sits on the edge of your bed as you do, watching you, and you wince when your phone dings. He reaches for it immediately, switching it to silent.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I can’t really see straight right now.”

“What?”

You open one eye as you lean back against your headboard, finding him among the zig zags and blurry lines. “Everything’s a bit blurry at the moment.”

“Should I be concerned?”

You can’t help but smile at that, despite the fact that you feel so nauseous you could cry. “No,” you assure him. “I just need to wait it out. Fucking sucks.”

Seungkwan is quiet for a minute, and you let your eyes fall shut. You know he’s processing, and you wonder if he thinks you’re exaggerating like most people do. Then his hand finds your leg and he squeezes, and you think that maybe he’s not like most people.

“Can I do anything else? Lights off, no noise, right?”

You nod, then realize he probably can’t see you very well in the dark. “Yeah.” You pause. “Could you…”

You hate asking for help. Seungkwan knows, and he squeezes your knee again. “I don’t mind,” he assures you.

“I need to eat something small. Maybe crackers? I don’t know if I have any, though.”

“I bought some.”

He’s out the door and back in a flash. You thank him, forcing a couple of crackers down before you lie back down on the bed. You can’t think about much as the pain hits its peak. You want to cry, but you know that only makes it worse; you feel like you need to throw up, but you know you don’t actually have to. You just have to wait for the meds to kick in, and there’s nothing else to do about it.

You’re about to apologize to Seungkwan again because you’re embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this, but he speaks before you can.

“Do you want me to go? I want to stay,” he adds quickly, “but if I’m making it worse…”

All you can feel, above the pain and the nausea, is an overwhelming sense of affection.

You are down so bad.

“Please stay.”

You wake up maybe an hour later and the pain is gone. You still feel weak, but better. The best part about waking up, though, is that your boyfriend is still there when you do.

“Seungkwan?”

He looks away from his phone and over at you in surprise. “Hi! I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Mhm.”

“Feeling better?”

You nod. “A million times better.”

You register his arm under your head, his side pressed to yours, and you can’t help but snuggle in closer. You surge forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he lets out a sigh.

“You just recovered and you want to jump me already?” He shakes his head. “Insatiable.”

It’s him that kisses you full on the mouth right after, though.

“Okay,” Seungkwan says suddenly, attempting to remove his arm from around you, but you whine in protest and cling to him even tighter. You absolutely refuse to move from his side. He snorts, offering an affectionate hair ruffle before his hands leave you completely. You pout but don’t complain as he sits up a bit, because his hands have now begun furiously typing on his screen, which can mean only one thing: your boyfriend means business. About what, you have no clue.

You wait, head resting against his chest. Your eyes are beginning to shut again now that your body is done fighting itself. You always have the best sleep after a migraine.

“Do you get…” Seungkwan pauses, and you drowsily look up to find him squinting at his screen. “Auras? Do you get auras?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Do you get auras before a migraine?”

You’d laugh at how serious he looks right now, but you think that would get you in trouble, so you stick to simply answering his question. “Sometimes, yeah. Depends on how bad it’s gonna be.”

“So an aura can kind of tell you how much pain you’ll be in later?”

You think about it. “Kind of? I couldn’t measure how much pain I’ll be in when it hits, but when I start to get blurry vision I know it’ll be a bad one.”

Seungkwan simply nods, and begins to type something out again. You’re confused but amused nonetheless. You have no idea what he’s doing, but he’s got his thinking face on — and he looks hot as hell. You’re blatantly ogling him when he asks the next question.

“You said you get blurry vision sometimes. That happened today, right? Earlier?” You nod. “What about like, numbness anywhere?” He looks a bit concerned as he says the last bit, and you squeeze his side.

“Only sometimes. That one is pretty rare for me. Usually, I’ll be in pain by then, so the numbness doesn’t freak me out because I know why it’s happening.”

He nods, much like a scientist when recording lab results, and you attempt to peer at his phone. He pulls it away easily and you pout, but he ignores you.

“Do you get any warning signs before a migraine?”

You shake your head. “That part really sucks — I get the blurry vision before the pain comes, but I don’t notice anything before my vision starts to zigzag.”

Seungkwan hums. You’re incredibly endeared. “It says here that some people prefer ibuprofen, some prefer acetaminophen, and that some people need prescription painkillers. What about you? I remember that Advil is the only thing that works for your cramps, right? Is it the same for your migraines?”

You suddenly realize exactly what he’s doing.

You can’t do anything but stare up at him as he finishes his sentence, suddenly feeling so overwhelmed with fondness for the man beside you that you think you might be sick. He glances down at you when you don’t respond, concern etched across his face.

“Are you Googling how migraines work right now?”

You watch as Seungkwan flushes pink, stammering a bit before he answers. “Maybe,” he mumbles, looking away from you, and you’re positive that you’ve never been more into anyone, ever.

“Are you writing down what I tell you so you know how to help me when I have one?”

It’s quiet for a split second, and then Seungkwan is brushing you off of him, rolling onto his side and away from you. “Nope,” comes his muffled reply, and you feel so downright giddy that it makes your head spin.

“Seungkwan,” you try, and you hold back a giggle when he simply huffs in response. You reach for him, hand sliding over his waist as you tuck yourself into his back. “Baby.”

You both seem to realize what you’ve just said at the same time. The pet name is new, but you can’t help that it slipped out when he’s being so cute. You worry that he hates it for a second when he tenses up, but then his body softens again and he rolls back to face you.

“I’m only looking at you because you just called me ‘baby’, and that’s almost as embarrassing as me making a note about your migraine symptoms and treatments.”

You want to make a comment about how you calling him ‘baby’ didn’t feel embarrassing at all — in fact it felt quite right — but you’ll address that later. “Thank you so much for your sacrifice,” you say sarcastically.

Seungkwan pouts at your teasing, but his tough exterior doesn’t last long. It never does with you. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you in, both of his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close.

“Thanks, Kwanie.” Your words are a whisper against his neck, and he pulls back to look at you in surprise.

“Thanks for what?”

Your finger traces the collar of his t-shirt, avoiding his eyes. “Wanting to look after me like that. It means a lot.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your boyfriend is suddenly on top of you, legs tangling with yours. You adapt quickly, a hand lifting to run your fingers through his hair, and you can feel it when he sighs against you. Then he nuzzles his face into your neck as he murmurs, “Having a migraine sounds so scary, babe. I’m sorry.”

Babe.

You barely even flinch when he says it, trying it out for himself. You like the way it sounds coming from him. You like it a lot.

“It is scary,” you admit. “But it helps when someone tries to understand.”

Seungkwan nods, his head lifting from your neck to rest his chin on your chest. “I’ll continue to do my best, then.”

He looks at you, soft smile on his lips, and all you can do is smile back. When you mouth another “thank you”, he doesn’t say anything. The kiss you receive in return is his answer.

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mysacredmuse · 2 months

Text

reader: female anatomy, gender neutral descriptors and nicknames

cw/tw: nsfw - mdni!, oral (reader receiving), slight body worship, pussydrunk!aventurine, humping the bed (aventurine), subby aventurine cums from just eating you out :(, praise (both), accidental and slight overstimulation for the reader

word count: 1.7k

I hope you enjoy! :)

dividers by @/cafekitsune :)

note: I hope you enjoy this anon! This is mostly inspired by thinking of Aventurine as a little submissive loser who would cum anytime he eats you out :3 but also, who would start all confident and dominant only to turn into a mess as soon as he gets to play with your pussy <3

Aventurine • Pussy eating •

"I like that expression of yours." he mutters into the skin of your neck, hot breath making your body shiver as he places open-mouth kisses down your skin.

You let out a soft sigh as your fingers tangle with his hair, gently pulling on it as he moves lower, kissing down your chest and tummy. Your back slightly arch as he playfully bites on the flesh of your tummy, his hands sliding down your waist in the process.

He reaches your lower tummy, gently biting on your panties as his thumbs hook the sides of it, quickly sliding them down using his teeth and fingers. He throws them on the side and swiftly lifts one of your legs above his shoulder, placing more hot, yet agonizingly slow kisses from your ankle down to your knee.

You let out a soft whimper as he reaches your inner thigh, mixing in a few kitten licks in-between the kisses all the way up to your groin. Your hands find their way into his hair again, pulling on it a bit tighter as his head remains still between your thighs, hot breath spreading over your leaking cunt.

He brushes his nose over your puffy clit, earning a breathy whimper from you. He can't help it, but slightly hump the bed upon feeling your clit on his nose and seeing your pretty pussy so close to him. He lets out a soft moan of his own as he moves his attention to your other thigh, tenderly kissing the inner area and going all the way up to your knee. His hand moves to your calf, gently lifting it up like the previous one in order to place more kisses all the way to your ankle.

If there was one thing about Aventurine, it's that he will kiss every part of you, no matter what.

A soft moan escapes your throat as he finally positions himself between your legs, slender fingers wrapping around your thighs as he pulls you closer.

"So pretty f' me." he whispers, his breath still hot on your wet cunt.

You arch your back a bit, hips pressing into the mattress as your clit throbs for something - anything. Your fingers pull on his hair tightly, trying to pull him closer to your needy cunt in the process.

"Need me so bad, huh?" he asks in a sly tone, enjoying your state as it gives him a slight ego boost.

"Need you so bad." you confirm shamelessly as your breathing becomes heavier.

He chuckles, trying to roll his hips into the mattress as subtly as possible. He lets out a shaky whimper, making your pussy even more sensitive as he gently rubs his cheek over your inner thigh.

He observes your pussy for another moment or so before he starts kissing your outer lips, purposefully missing all the spots where you needed him the most. He lets his tongue slide over your skin, barely touching your inner lips during the process, earning a few irritated breaths of yours. He wishes to tease you more, but fails as his own greediness comes to play. The grip on your thighs tightens as he places the tip of his tongue on the very bottom edge of your inner lips, sliding it over your wet cunt in a slow zig-zag motion, reaching your clit and repeating the movement downwards.

A mellow whine escapes your lungs as a few words of affirmation follow up. He lets out a soft moan in return as he reaches your clit again, now settling there as he starts moving his tongue in gentle circles. Your grip on his hair weakens as your thighs clench around his face, eager for more. Aventurine can't help but give in, gradually fastening the movements of his tongue as his hips roll into the mattress a bit more erratically.

He unwraps one of his hands away from your thigh, shakily bringing it to your entrance and swiftly sliding in two of his fingers; a sharp and breathy moan escaping his lips as he feels you tighten around them. His moan sends tingles up your spine as his tongue greedily keeps on sliding over your puffy clit; a few sharp moans of your own filling up the room. Aventurine curls his fingers just enough to pressure your sweet spot inside, bringing your back to arch from the pleasure.

"So fucking good for me." he whines into your pussy, his tongue picking up a faster pace as his fingers slowly slide in and out of your cunt.

He tries to mimic the pace of his fingers with his hips, letting out shameless and shaky whimpers from time to time as he enjoys the reactions of your body to it. Each time his filthy sounds spread warmth over your clit, the knot in your tummy becomes heavier. He curls his fingers even more, speeding them up in the process and forcing a chain of strained moans out of your throat. His hips mindlessly follow the speed of his fingers, grinding into the mattress without shame. You feel the pace of his tongue becoming sloppier as his whimpers occupy his throat a lot more than before, aware of the filthy doing of his desperate hips.

"Such a good-, ah, such a good fucking boy for me." you praise in a shaky tone, not missing this opportunity to return the favor.

He lets out a strained whine, cock twitching in his boxers upon hearing your praise. He swiftly starts sucking on your clit in an eager manner, hips rolling into the mattress with more desperation, forgetting his whole dominant ordeal from just a few moments before.

Your pussy clenches around his fingers as your back arch more, his sucking of your clit sending heavy heat beneath your skin with each second. Your chest feels warm and full of tingles as your lower tummy cramps in pleasure. Aventurine keeps up the pace, greedily sucking on your clit while letting his tongue slide over it from time to time, brushing over your sensitive spots.

He slides his fingers deeper inside of your cunt, slowly extracting them until they are barely inside and swiftly sliding them back in - all while his hips follow the pace. His dim, guttural whines send vibrations through your clit, making your mind hazy as sharp moans keep escaping your throat.

You tighten around his fingers as you spread your legs a bit more, purposefully making you even more sensitive to his touch. Aventurine pauses his sucking for just a moment as his fingers keep sliding in and out of your leaking pussy. He curses under his breath, grinding his hips into the mattress in a pathetic manner.

"Not yet..moremoremoremore..gotta have more of you. More, please, more." he whines into your pussy, completely mindless as he continues sucking your clit at a much more erratic pace.

You can feel his jaw becoming shaky as he makes small pauses between the sucks before he returns to the previous pace, his fingertips digging deeper into your g-spot as he tries to contain himself. Each dig of his fingers makes your tummy swirl in a mixture of pain and pleasure, endless moans and whines escaping your lungs, making you barely able to speak. You become lightheaded as your thighs grow weak and shaky, the first waves of your orgasm rushing through your body.

Your cunt leaks more precum around Aventurine's fingers, becoming more and more sensitive as your orgasm gradually builds up. The pace of Aventurine's hips is now messy, not at all following the thrusts of his fingers, whole body trembling as a few muffled whines vibrate through his occupied mouth.

Your fingers tangle with his hair once more, messily pulling on it as a knot in your tummy becomes unbearable, thighs squeezing his face more and more. He separates himself from your clit for just a moment, however his tongue keeps messily circling over it as he speaks.

"My pretty little thing is gonna cum for me? Cum for me, pleasepleaseplease-, I can't take it anymore-, fuuuuck-"

You let out a long, loud moan as he lets out a guttural, pathetic whine before he continues sucking on your clit, his fingers speeding up even more. The knot in your tummy becomes painful as you pulsate and twitch around his fingers, eyes rolling back in the process.

You barely move your hips as they become unsteady and twitchy, slowly edging you closer to your release. On the other hand, Aventurine's hips keep up the relentless pace, shamelessly rolling into the bed as his cock leaks more precum as his own release approaches.

Your grip on his hair becomes rough and senseless as you throw your head back, the vigorous pace of his fingers combined with his desperate sucking finally sending you over the edge.

You mutter a few incoherent words as the knot inside your tummy unravels and cramps in the warm pleasure of release. Aventurine's pathetic moan overpowers your breathy whines as his own release approaches, completely messing up his boxers and the sheets underneath him.

He moves away from your clit, heavy eyes gazing up at you as a string of saliva attaches your clit with his tongue. He continues fucking you with his fingers without mercy as his hips twitch and roll into the mattress, senslessly riding out his own orgasm. You let go of his hair as your release reaches its peak, becoming stronger and more unbearable from the vigorous pace of his fingers.

"Too m-much!" you whine out, trying to get a hold of his wrist in order to get a break from the overwhelming pleasure. Your orgasm slowly melts away and Aventurine does slow down his fingers, but it still feels too much, sending unbearable hot waves through your body. You curse under your breath as he finally slows down, extracting his fingers and letting you rest for a moment. You gaze down on him, noticing a guilty look in his eyes.

"Fuck, did my pretty boy cum in his boxers?" you chuckle, gently playing with his hair as you try to calm down your breathing. Aventurine's gaze is lustful, still desperately needy as he remains still in the mess he made without much shame to spare about it. He wraps his hands around your thighs once again, placing a few soft kisses over your sensitive cunt, making you gasp in response.

"Your pretty boy wants more." he whispers in a needy tone, his low gaze fixated on yours as he slowly sticks his tongue out, ready for another round.

#aventurine smut #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine x yn #aventurine x you #hsr smut #hsr x reader smut #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #female reader #muse's writings

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