#soft music for studying and concentration

[therealflickerman]

Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part two

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: You never want Peter Parker around, but you find he tents to show up whenever you need him most.

word count: 4.9k

chapter contents: reader is intended to be fem! , language, a little banter and a little fluff, reader is anxious and a mess,  idk anything about american diner culture, these two r awkward idiots that don’t know how to be soft 

note: poor pete just wants to be your friend, and poor reader is a disaster girl. I had so much fun writing this chapter I hope yall enjoy it!, thank u charlie for editing

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / (ongoing!)

Your earphones carry music to your eardrums, blaring at the highest volume possible, it's a feeble attempt to drown out your thoughts and you’re not quite sure it’s working. It crosses your mind that you should probably lower the volume sparing others in the library from the distraction, however, as you find yourself re-reading the same sentence for the third time, you can’t quite find it in yourself to care. 

A groan slips past your lips, the heels of your palms find the sockets of your eyes and you sit like this for a moment before dragging your hands down your face in irritation. Your biology textbook sits on the desk in front of you, the annotated page, a testament to last night's productivity, mocks you with its perfection. 

You’ve been at this since Eleven a.m. and you can quite literally feel your brain melting out of your head, it’s rare you have trouble studying, actually, you would go so far as to call it a forte of yours. You blame your recent bout of sleeplessness and curse how busy your brain has been the last few nights. 

Sliding your sleeve just above your watch, you check the time, it reads ‘one twenty-six p.m.’. “Shit,” you exhale, scolding yourself for letting the time slip through our hands.

You look at the testbook with disdain, promising yourself at least fifteen minutes of study before your shift at the diner begins. You flip to a new section and pray a change of scenery will kickstart your brain into surrendering a bit more work, though you feel deep down that it’s a lost cause. 

A defeated sigh escapes you, your eyes lock on the start of the page and you begin to read. The chapter talks of the immune system's response to pathogens and you recall touching on the topic in class. You specifically remember that day because Peter had ‘accidently’ spilt his milk all over your notes during one of his usual attempts to irritate you, despite the way his grin curled into that of a worried frown, and the way he had jumped into action, letting out frantic apologies, you’re not so sure it truly was an accident, though maybe that's what you’d like to think. 

Your brows furrow as you realise you’ve in fact lost your train of thought once again, your brain had wandered off about a thousand times already that morning, but it particularly bugs you this time as it dawns on you that you are unable to escape Peter Parker, even as you sit alone with your thoughts. For a second your throat feels tight and you think you could cry from pure frustration, though you look to the library that surrounds you, there are a mix of silently working students and businessmen, and you decide you don’t want to be the deranged woman crying into her biology textbook at one-thirty p.m. the afternoon before her test. 

You opt to take a deep breath rather than the later and you reread the line, taking a note on the sentence before completing the paragraph. You turn the page and you finally feel concentration begin to build. 

A yelp slips from your lips as a book drops and lands before you with a soft thud, it breaks the still silence of the library, shattering the first string of focus you had managed since last night's study session. Your gaze shoots upwards and you’re met with the same big brown eyes you’ve become accustomed to.  

“Enjoying your last-minute study session?” he plops into the chair across from you carelessly. 

You struggle to hear him through your loud music though you quite like it that way.

Your eyes narrow and you rip your headphones out with a swift tug. Music plays from them softly as they’re discarded on the desk. “Peter-”, you start, and wish you had the chance to finish. 

“I finished studying last night but,” he slides your textbook across the table, spinning it in his direction so he can read your annotations, “it’s good to see you putting in the work,”

“Peter, I am going to kill you” In a fit of irritation, you aggressively shove the textbook back to your side of the desk, you genuinely cannot believe your luck or lack thereof. 

“That's not very nice,” 

“You…” you spit loudly, wincing at the volume of your voice before lowering your tone, “are not very nice.” Your hand motions to all of him and your eyes narrow further in aggravation. 

He mouths a humoured ‘wow’, and leans back in the chair with an arrogant grin and a cross of his arms.

“How did you even,” you find the words, “there are like twenty libraries in Queens and you’re

sitting across from me…” your arms crossed, “uninvited” you emphasise. 

He shrugs with a grin and leans over, digging through his beat-up backpack.

He silently places his things on the desk, ‘just make yourself at home’ you huff ironically with an eye roll. He laughs softly at your comment as he pulls out a small pencil case, it's dark blue and covered in Sharpie doodles, then grabs the rest of his books, piling them on top of the one he had used to startle you. 

“I thought you were done with studying” you deadpan. 

He hums a laugh, “you can never be done with studying" he quips sarcastically. 

You let out a breath of frustration as he continued digging through his bag. 

“Look Parker I really need to focus-”

“Oh I wanted to give you this,” he mumbles, cutting you off and pulling a sheet of paper from the backpack, sliding it across the desk to you. 

You look down at the page, it's a photocopied version of his messy, yet readable notes. 

“Your bio notes…?” you look up at him and meet his eyes, “why?” your brows furrow further though this time fueled by confusion. 

He hums, opening his book, “felt like being nice” he adds and you let out a humoured scoff. 

“And you just somehow knew…” you correct yourself with a clearing of your throat, “Well, thought I needed these” You watch him, a brow raised in confusion, 

“I can take them back,” he grins, meeting your eyes and reaching across to snatch them from your hands. You pull away, further furrowing your brow and begin reading the notes. 

“What did you do to them,” you ask, sceptically as you skim the page. His work seems genuine, in fact, the notes are far more well-versed than the half-assed sheet of scribbles you’ve been working on and you swallow the insecure feeling you’ve grown used to. 

He laughs, his smile growing as his hands pull back and raise defensively with a soft ‘nothing’. 

You spare him a cautious eye with a shake of your head, continuing to look through the notes. 

“Hey… look at this way,” his face turns earnest as he leans in to speak, you humour him, placing the paper down and giving him your attention. 

“Now you won’t fail” he nods, the mask of seriousness slipping away as he breaks into a stupid grin.

‘Asshole’ you mumble to yourself softly, a gentle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and you shake your head. 

He watches you carefully, satisfied with the faint smile that curls on your lips. 

“Seriously though, how’d you know I’d be here?” your focus turns back to the notes with the raise of an eyebrow and the linger of a smile. 

He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, “remember that one time in English,” he says in an attempt to jog your memory, his hand finds the textbook in front of him and he fidgets with the pages, “we were fighting about the best libraries,” you’re sure he’s right because the two of you fight about everything, “you said this one was your favourite, specifically this area because you like to look into the garden” 

He’s right, you like to look out of the giant glass windows and watch people sitting in the library's garden, studying with their friends.

“And what, you wrote all that down in your journal?” you joke, watching as he laughs.

He hums nodding his head with a, ‘Yeah, wrote it all down in my personal diary’.

“No um,” he breathes a laugh, “I just have a good memory,” his eyes flick to meet yours, you exhale a sceptical hum, nodding your head in response. 

“How else do you think I beat you in all those exams,” he smirks watching the grin tug at your lips,

“What, like the one on friday?” you mock.

“No like the one tomorrow” he retorts. 

This pulls a laugh from your lips, you roll your eyes with a shake of your head. 

You hum as the laughter dies down, “you might’ve got me there” you say softly, letting up the teasing and your eyes leave his, suddenly very interested in your textbook. Unconsciously your lip slips between your teeth and Peter notices. 

“Do you… want help studying?” he offers awkwardly, it’s unusual for him and your eyes flick up, sending a sceptical look.  

You’re met with a genuine smile. 

You beckon him towards you with furrowed brows, he leans forward, accepting your hand against his forehead, with a roll of his eyes and a sweet laugh.

“No fever,” you hum, “but you’re just not acting like yourself,” you mumble in sarcastic dismay and your hand pulls from his forehead, sitting back in your chair, you turn your focus back to your textbook. 

"You're a regular comedian," he remarks dryly, a humoured smile never leaves his lips.

Your eyes keep on the page in front of you, “so I’ve been told” your voice drips with irony, pulling a laugh from Peter. 

“So…” his words fade though you know what he’s asking, he bites the inside of his cheek watching you. 

Your eyes drift to your watch before meeting his, they’re already staring at you. 

“I truly, truly would love to you” you deadpan with a nod, “I would, but luckily for me, I have work in about ten minutes and my boss will wring my neck if I’m late” You give a wry smile, collecting your things. 

A stupid grin stays curled on his lips, ‘yeah yeah’ he shoos you off with a roll of his eyes.

You’re satisfied with his reaction and push your chair into the desk. 

“Thanks for the notes!” you tease, waving them in his direction as you head for the door. 

______________________________________________________________

As dusk settles outside, the diner is left lit by the dingy light bulbs that hang overhead. Your eyes hurt from their flickering and you blink tightly with a shake of the head in an attempt at dulling the pain. 

Balancing a coffee cup in each hand and a slice of hot apple pie on your left wrist, you tread cautiously, one foot after another, approaching an older couple on the far right of the diner. The heat from the porcelain kisses the tips of your fingers, both cups filled to the brim with boiling hot coffee, your eyes trace the black liquid, watching as it sways with each step you take.

“Here you are,” you give a sweet smile to the older couple, placing their coffees down and hiding a wince as your raw fingers place the hot plate of apple pie between the two of them. The wife thanks you sweetly with a smile and you ask if there's anything else you can help them with, to which they politely decline. 

You offer a smile before turning on your heels and heading back to the kitchen, pushing open the swinging doors softly and slipping inside. You quite narrowly dodge a kitchen hand who’s balancing a towering stack of porcelain dinner plates, frantically apologising, you offer to help out but she swiftly brushes you off, rushing in another direction before you can finish your sentence. 

You slip to a quiet corner of the kitchen, avoiding the preparation benches and bury your face in your hands for just a moment, an exhale of frustration slips from your lips.   

“Hello!” Your manager's voice is grating as he calls your name, your hands drop from your face and you quickly turn to meet him, instead you’re met with clicking fingers inches away from you eyes, you recoil at his obnoxiousness with a flinch. “You’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock kid, get out there” his voice is raised over the sounds of the kitchen, he points to the kitchen doors and you send him a sheepish smile, ‘sorry’ rolls off your tongue but you’re not sure he hears, let alone cares for your apologies. Your expression drops to that of disgust as he passes by, heading to grab something from the freezers, and you throw the finger in his direction. 

You push through heavy kitchen doors, and you notice the back of a man's head sitting in your section of the diner. Rushing to the booth, your eyes flick to your watch quickly and you make a mental note that you have around fifteen minutes left. 

Your hand feels around your apron for your small notebook and pen and your eyes flick down to assist, “Hello welcome to Uncle Bills,” you find it and flip it open giving the man your name, “I’ll be your server today,” you plaster the usual cheesy smile on your face and look up to meet the eyes of the man you’re serving. 

“What a surprise seeing you here” 

“Parker…” your eyes narrow and you try to find the words, “Do you not have a job or like, anyone else to bug?” you genuinely wonder how it’s possible to see someone that you actively avoid twice in a day. 

“That's not a very nice way to talk to customers” he quips, tilting his head to the side.

“Seriously are you stalking me or something,” 

“What you didn’t know about that journal of mine?” he grins up at you, “the one with all that info about your favourite libraries” he laughs with a shrug, and mumbles a ‘thought you knew’.

You roll your eyes with a cross of your arms and turn to clean the table of an old trucker who had finished his burger.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” he laughs out, “I promise. I didn’t know you worked here,” his face is sincere though that stupid grin remains.

You raise your brows at him and a beat passes. 

“I just want a coffee,” he smiles sweetly. 

“Okay” you exhale a sigh, “how do you like it” 

“Just black,” he answers, “so um… when do you get off?”. 

“In like ten minutes thank god, why?” you question writing in your notepad.

“Sugar?” you ask before he can answer and he shakes his head with a, ‘no thanks’

“Well, I just thought, maybe I could walk you home”, he offers with a hint of uncertainty

“What, is my address missing from your journal?” you joke, putting your notepad back into your apron. 

“You’re just on fire today aren’t you” he teases. 

“Aren’t I always,” you give him a sarcastic grin. 

Before turning to get his coffee you pause a moment, meeting his eyes with a genuine smile, “Look Parker… thank you, for the offer but I’m… I’m just exhausted, maybe another time”, you nod and your teeth catch your lip picking at the skin as he responds. 

He nods softly, “Yeah, for sure”. 

You offer a pressed smile before turning to brew his coffee

You return just a moment later, lowering the near overflowing cup ever so slowly ensuring none of it spills. 

“There you go,” you lean in slightly, “I found you our biggest mug, absolutely free of charge” you whisper with a wink, sending a sweet smile.

“My hero” he murmurs sarcastically, matching your low tone with a grin. 

You let out a hum and stand up straight brushing your hands down your apron, “well I’m just about off” You smile and there's an awkward beat of silence.

“Hey you keep those notes I gave you safe, I heard they’re worth a lot” he teases, looking up at you. 

“Hmm, I don't recall any important notes, I did throw away a sheet of paper with unreadable chicken scratch on it though” 

He offers an eye-roll laced with amusement, wishing you a good night. 

You return the sentiment with a sweet grin. 

______________________________________________________________

Awkwardly, your hands fumble behind your back, untying your firmly tied apron. You grab your tips from the pocket and stuff them in your jean pocket. With care, you fold the apron neatly and slide it into the pigeon-hole designated with your name, swapping it with your jacket which you slip on. 

The image of Peter's big brown eyes flash in your mind and you feel the all-too-familiar pang of guilt rising in your throat. Your teeth snag your lips as you frown slightly and for a moment you think you should have accepted his offer to walk you home. 

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, taking a second to think, and release it’s likely you’ll catch him on your way out, you swallow your nerves and decide you’ll take him up on his offer. 

You let your manager know you’re leaving and push through the kitchen swinging doors, expecting to see Peter still sitting at the booth. 

Instead, you’re met with a half-drunken cup of coffee and a five-dollar tip. Your lips curl into a smile and you roll your eyes, ‘always the gentlemen’ you think to yourself as you pocket the money. 

______________________________________________________________

The soles of your shoes tap against the floor of the subway, and you hum along to your music, resting the back of your head against the cool of the glass. The subway is quiet at this time of night having just missed rush hour and you’re more than grateful for the peace. The voice of the announcement system warns you that your step is the next, you hear it quietly through your music, opening your resting eyes. 

You step onto the quiet platform, thankful for the more peaceful trip this time around. You walk slowly through quiet backstreets taking your time and mindlessly listening to your music, the volume is gentle, wary of the softly throbbing headache that you’ve acquired from the day. You hum along softly, and your teeth sink into your lip, occupying themselves. 

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore” a familiar voice calls out and a flash of red drops down next to you. 

You jump slightly, turning to look at the man. “And I thought we weren’t scaring young women at night” You let out a breath attempting to control your heart rate, he laughs with an apology and follows your footsteps, walking by your side. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you again?” you utter, though it comes out as a question. 

He hums a laugh, “I just couldn’t stay away” he teases sarcastically. 

“Seems to be the way a lot of people feel” you mumble with a grin. 

“Elaborate”

“I’m fairly sure I have a highly dedicated stalker” you nod playfully. 

He chuckles, “And what makes you think that”. 

“You know that kid I was talking about, Peter?” you ask and Spiderman nods along, “well, he first found me at my favourite library and then walked into my job four hours later to order a coffee”. 

“Sounds like we have a high-profile case on our hands,” he jokes and it pulls a small laugh from your lips with an eye roll. 

“You know you sound a lot like him” you say matter-of-factly. 

“You don’t know what I sound like” he retorts rather quickly. 

“No I mean,” you think for a moment, “you’re both annoyingly witty”. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment” he jokes with a satisfied nod. 

“How does the um,” you raise your hand to your lips, “the voice thing, how does it work” you question with a small tilt of your head. 

“It’s just a vocal converter” he nods. 

“Like Ghostface in Scream,” you add and he nods. 

“And the um,” your hand hovers over your wrist, and you contort your hand into his signature pose. 

“Oh, here look” he stops the both of you and flips his wrist, a white web shoots onto the brick wall behind you. 

“Try it,” he mumbles, your hand hovers over his wrist and he gives you a soft nod, encouraging you to press down on the sensor. You press the heel of his hand and a web shoots past you, sticking to the wall in one swift motion. Your mouth forms an ‘O’ as you mumble a soft, ‘woah’,

Spiderman watches you, a soft smile sits behind his mask. “So do you, like, have any actual powers?” you ask with a furrowed brow, “besides being a genius” you add and the irony draws a small laugh from the boy. 

He hums a soft ‘hmh’, he shakes the web from the shooter and walks past you. You stand with crossed arms and watch as he climbs the walls, his hands and feet sticking to the vertical bricks. “So you can do that without the suit?” you call up at him and he gives a soft nod, releasing the wall and gracefully falling from the height. 

“What else can you do?” you ask in awe, you had never particularly been a fan of Spiderman, you’d watched the news clips, and defended him when your mum questioned if his presence was ethical, though you’d never questioned, nor ever thought of, the logistics of his ‘powers’. 

He lets out a laugh, “I have um, enhanced strength, agility, stamina, all that” he nods, “Oh and um, a tingle?” it comes out as a question and he tilts his head slightly.

“I do not want to hear about your tingle dude” you laugh with a disgusted face, he elbows you gently, with a, ‘Not like that you weirdo’. “No it’s like, I can tell when there’s danger,” he attempts to explain, “like, I know to duck before something hits my head”. 

You shove your hand in your pocket, pulling out a scrunched-up receipt and throw it towards his head. His hand raises swiftly, catching the ball of paper, “really?” he questions before unravelling it, with a serious face and a hum he reads, “Hemorrhoid cream?”. 

Your brows furrow and you quickly grab the receipt to see a grocery list of, ‘gum, Coke Zero and a KitKat’, you roll your eyes with a ‘ha ha, very funny’. 

“So,” he looks down at you and the two of you make eye contact, “tell me about your day,” he mumbles as the two of you continue your stroll, you accept his offer once again. 

“It was pretty boring… I studied for like god knows how long and got nowhere,” you grumble and Spiderman listens attentively. “Then, just as I was on a roll Parker interrupted me… but he gave me his notes so,” you give a pressed smile, “never will I ever tell him how much it helped me out but he is a lifesaver.” you nod. 

Spiderman's lips curl into a wide grin behind the mask and he lets out a hum in response, ” Anyway my boss is an asshole,” you add with a, ‘but what's new’.

“What’d he do today?” he questions and watches as your eyes roll at the thought of your manager. He’s so intensely focused on you and for the first time since knowing you he’s able to take in the small imperfections on your face, he observes the slope of your nose and the way your mouth moves as you speak, and suddenly he’s all the more grateful for the guise of his mask then he’s ever been before. 

“He’s just an asshole you know?” you ramble, eyes locked on the floor in front of you as your brain trails back to your manager's fingers in your face. “I mean he clicked in my face as if I’m like some dog,” you let out an angry huff, “seriously, get your dirty ass fingernails out of my face dude, and then he yelled in my face!” you take in a deep breath before releasing it with the rest of your frustration. 

Spiderman frowns slightly behind the mask with a shake of his head, “you want me to web him up?” he attempts and grins as your lips curl into a smile. “That would be great actually,” you giggle. 

There's a beat of silence before you start up again, “and, I don't know, I feel guilty, I think Peter keeps trying to hangout with me, I mean I refused him like twice today and I don't know…” you trail off for a moment, “It’s not like I hate him, I mean he’s annoying, but so am I, and… well I actually really like talking to him, I just,” you look up at Spiderman, “I’m not blabbing on too much?”. 

His masked face shakes slightly with a soft laugh and a, ‘You’re good.’

“I just don’t think I’m that great at being friends with people,” you exhale a sigh. 

“Well we’re friends” he adds and the Peter behind the mask feels a pang of guilt.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. 

“What you don’t think we’re friends” he quips, nudging you softly and you hum a laugh. 

“Well this is our second time talking…” you trail off and look up at him, sending a stupid grin. 

“That's okay… we just… move fast,” he mumbles and you hum in agreement with a nod, ‘really fast,’ you add and he laughs with an, ‘Exactly’.

“No… you’re right,” and you send him a genuine smile, “Thanks Spidey, for listening”. 

“Spidey huh?” he asks teasingly. “Well I’m not going to say Spiderman every time we talk” you ask with a grin, “I bet you’re not even a man,” you add teasingly. 

“What makes you say that,” he asks defensively. 

“Well first of all that was a little defensive,” you giggle, “and I don’t know,” you shrug, “I’m a teenager, I go to school with teenagers, I know how they act,” you mumble matter-of-factly with a grin. 

“Also I would be a little worried if a forty-year-old man actively sought out walking me home at night,” you add 

“Proud of your detective work are you?” he teases and you give a cocky nod. 

“Well I can’t actually tell you my age-”, he begins,

“Oh come on,” you grin, cutting him off. 

“Okay, you wanna know?” he asks, his tone is earnest and you respond with an eager nod. He pauses and leans in slightly, and you follow his action,

“I’m actually eighty,” he says and a giggle slips from his lips. You grin with an eye roll and hit his arm playfully, he lets out a joking, ‘ow’.

“I think you should have a little more respect for senior citizens,” he laughs following as you continue your route home,

“I have plenty of respect for real senior citizens,” you mumble. 

As the two of you reach your apartment block you let out a huff of pain. “I’m going to rip my feet off,” you groan, wiggling your toes in your shoe. 

“Not so sure that will do any good,” he quips and you grin. 

“What kind of apartment building doesn’t hand an elevator,” you moan, 

“Why don’t I swing you to your fire escape,” he offers sweetly, and you send him a smile, “really?” you ask. 

He hums a, ‘mhm’, and your smile curls wider, before dropping ever so slightly, “my mum… she’ll wonder why I didn't come through the front door,” and Spidey gives a shrug. 

“Maybe she just didn’t notice,” he offers, winking behind the mask before he remembers that you can’t see his face. “Yeah… why not,” you shrug dismissively with a smile. 

He wraps a tight arm around your waist, ‘which is yours?’ he asks and you point to the one lit up with a string of fairy lights with a sheepish smile, he lets out a small laugh finding your attempt at decoration sweet. 

“You’re going to need to hold onto me okay,” he mumbles and you swallow a pang of nerves with a nod of your head before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. 

He shoots a web, swinging you both upwards and you let out a small yelp at the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath your shoes. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes slam shut at the strange feeling of freefalling for short bursts of moments. 

You feel his chuckle rise with a chuckle as you cling to him tightly. Wind rushes past your ears and through your hair before you feel your feet land on the slightly shaky fire escape, it's over before it begins and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Holy shit that is terrifying,” you mumble with big eyes, a laugh escapes your lips and you meet his gaze. 

“Next time you should try opening your eyes,” he teases and you mumble a ‘next time?’ with the raise of a brow. He nods with a laugh, “I’ll take you,” he says and his voice is sweet. 

You breathe out an, ‘okay’ with a sure nod of your head. “You should see how beautiful the city is at night,” he mumbles softly and you feel a grin of admiration grow on your face. 

“I’ll look forward to it,” you smile and you wish each other a goodnight before he swings off.

TAGLIST

@chaoticcoffeequeen

[chilltidetrance]

Study and Chill with sublime | music to concentrate and focus🎵 #chilltid...

[healing-music]

The Healing Wonders Of Meditation

The use of meditation for healing and spiritual enlightenment has been an ancient practice that is common among the world’s great religions and cultures. It is an accepted and proven alternative therapy that is classified under mind-body medicine.

Through the years, more and more people have found meditation as an effective way to ease chronic pain, improve heart health, relieve stress and anxiety, boost mood and immunity, and resolve pregnancy problems. Even doctors are already prescribing meditation as a way to lower blood pressure; improve exercise performance in people with angina; help people with asthma breathe easier; and to relieve insomnia. It is a safe and simple way to balance a person’s physical, emotional, and mental well-being.

According to cardiologist Herbert Benson, MD: Any condition that’s caused or worsened by stress can be alleviated through meditation. Benson is the founder of the Mind/Body Institute at Harvard Medical School’s Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center. He said that the relaxation induced by meditation can help decrease metabolism, lower blood pressure, and improve heart rate, breathing, and brain waves. When the body receives a quiet message to relax, tension and tightness begin to seep from muscles.

Brain scans (or Magnetic Resonance Imaging, or MRI) of people who meditate have been used to show scientific evidence that meditation really works. It shows an increase in activity in areas that control metabolism and heart rate. Other studies on Buddhist monks have shown that meditation produces long-lasting changes in the brain activity in areas involving attention, working memory, learning, and conscious perception. Meditation is not difficult to learn but it is a skill that needs to be practiced in order to develop the ability to focus on the breathing patterns and the need to ignore distracting thoughts. Meditation is usually accompanied by a mantra, a word or phrase that is repeatedly chanted to produce a biological response such as relaxation. The soothing power of repetition is at the heart of meditation. Constant practice of meditation allows people to learn anddevelop the ability to produce meditative and relaxed states without difficulty. Meditating several times during the day makes the practitioner feel relaxed throughout the entire day.

Benefits of Meditation

Heart Health: Countless studies have shown that regular practice has significantly helped reduce high blood pressure. A study conducted at the College of Maharishi Vedic Medicine in Fairfield, Iowa, showed significant lowering of blood pressure and heart rate in black adults. Another study conducted by the American Journal of Hypertension showed that teenagers who meditated for 15 minutes twice a day for four months were able to lower their blood pressure a few points.

Immune Booster: In a Psychosomatic Medicine study testing immune function, meditation has bben shown to be useful in warding off illness and infections. Flu shots were given to volunteers who had meditated for eight weeks and to people who didn’t meditate. The result of blood tests from the meditation group had produced higher levels of antibodies against the flu virus.

Women’s Health: Premenstrual syndrome (PMS), infertility problems, and even breastfeeding can be improved when women meditate regularly. In one study, PMS symptoms subsided by 58% when women meditated. Another study found that hot flashes were less intense among women who practiced meditation. Women struggling with infertility had much less anxiety, depression and fatigue following a 10-week meditation program; 34 percent became pregnant within six months. Also, new mothers who meditated on images of milk flowing from their breasts were able to more than double their production of milk. Meditation Enhances Brain Activity

Those who practice meditation regularly showed evidence of significantly higher brain activity, called gamma wave activity, in areas associated with learning and happiness compared with those who didn’t practice meditation. Gamma waves involve mental processes including attention, memory, learning and conscious perception.

Many health care providers consider meditation as a key element of an integrated health program. However, when you are having a hard time getting into that meditative state, try to enroll in a class. It will help and guide you with your progress. Any practice that can evoke the relaxation response can be beneficial, be it through meditation, yoga, breathing, or repetitive prayer. The growing body of research literature on meditation and other alternative therapies gives us no reason to believe that one is better than the other.

[little-diable]

Afraid - Dean Winchester (smut)

Y'all asked for some jealous!posessive!Dean, so who am I to deny that wish? I came across a Dean edit paired with the song "Afraid" by The Neighbourhood, I guess that set the mood. Honestly, it's just pwp, but I ain't sorry. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean is tired of watching men trying to chat (y/n) up wherever the brothers take her. Dean is tired of faking his disinterest in the reader. Dean is tired of holding back.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, oral (m), car sex, but some fluff and a love confession

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (2.2k words)

The sound of her boots meeting the ground was drowned out by the music echoing through the bar and the chatter filling the air. She was working on the adrenaline still thumping through her veins, riled up by the hunt Dean and her had just finished, wiping their weapons clean before they found their way to this very bar, ready for some distraction before they left this town in the morning. 

With a bright – yet awfully fake – smile glued to her lips, (y/n) made her way to the bartender, studying the man who was focused on the drinks he kept preparing. She was too concentrated on the game she was about to play with the guy, all too used to these moments, to notice the eyes of some other men on her frame, intently studying the woman’s body.

“Hi.” Her soft voice forced the bartender’s grey eyes to find hers, grinning at the smiling woman. He was handsome, with his bright, stormy eyes and the black hair he had gelled back, yet he was nowhere near as handsome as the green-eyed hunter she had been friends with for years by now. Dean fucking Winchester, the man who had an awfully confusing grasp on her body and soul, holding her heart in his hands, crushing it whenever he turned from her to find shelter in another woman’s bed. 

“Hi, darlin’. What can I get for you?” Before (y/n) could speak her and Dean’s order, an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind her. 

“Give the lovely woman a few shots it’s on me.” Slowly (y/n) turned towards the man, eyes finding his greedy ones, trying to keep her disgust from finding its way to her features. A soft chuckle left her, hoping to distract the man for a few seconds, while she figured out a way out of this situation. 

“Mhm, thank you, that’s very sweet.” (Y/n) tried to turn away from him, though without any luck, stopped by the hand finding its way to her waist. 

“Not so fast, pretty. At least tell me your name.” A groan threatened to claw through (y/n), eyes fluttering in annoyance the man clearly mistook for shy flattery, making the smirk he wore on his thin lips grow. 

“It’s Mandy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my friend is waiting for me.” The man’s hand didn’t move, tightening its grip on her waist. With her lips forming a snarl, (y/n) was hellbent on fighting her way out of this, it wasn’t the first time a man tried to chat her up against her will, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, all too used to these uncomfortable situations. Though while her mind raced to find a snarky reply, she was gently though determinedly pulled away from the man.

“Hey, I was talking to her!” Her mind didn’t get the chance to concentrate on the man’s loud voice, distracted by the all-too-familiar scent forcing its way up her nose. For a second (y/n) allowed her eyes to flutter close, relaxing in Dean’s possessive grasp, concentrating on his scent, of the feeling of his muscles pressing against her frame, wordlessly telling her that he wouldn’t let her go. 

“Well, now she’s done talking to you. Let’s go, baby, I want to get out of here.” The man got no chance to protest, forced to watch Dean guide (y/n) through the crowd and out into the cold evening. She inhaled a few breaths, wrapping her arms around herself the second Dean let go of her, searching the distance between them.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your help, but I would have managed just fine on my own, Dean.” He was walking a few steps ahead of her, coming to an abrupt stop the second she spoke the words. Dean turned towards her with dark eyes, features pulled into a hard frown, looking at (y/n) as if she was a supernatural being he was about to kill.

“I’m so fucking sick and tired of watching these men get their hands on you. Do you even know what seeing that does to me?” Dean’s voice carried an unfamiliar kind of anger, dripping with possessiveness, with jealousy. Her heart started racing in her chest, forcing heat to rise to her face, wondering where this was coming from. (Y/n) kept her gaze focused on Dean, eyebrows furrowed together as the seconds kept ticking by, trying to figure out what was going on inside his mind. “You know what, forget it.”

“Absolutely not. Talk to me, Dean, where is this coming from?” She reached for his hand before he could try to start walking once again, eyes drawn to hers like a moth drawn to any source of light. (Y/n) could tell that he was fighting an inner battle, tongue kissing his teeth, fingers forcing themselves closer to hers, interlacing them with his. 

“I,” a deep, almost defeated exhale left Dean, wondering how to put his thoughts into words. But the second the sound of somebody stepping out of the bar found its way to the two, it was as if he was lured out of his trance, letting go of (y/n). “I can’t do this, not here.”

Dean started walking towards Baby without looking back, growling something under his breath (y/n) couldn’t pick up. With determination guiding her, she jogged towards him, forcing him to a halt in front of Baby once again, murmuring his name. The last thing she heard before Dean turned towards her, reaching for (y/n) to press her against Baby, was an angry “Fuck it” leaving the tall man.

Her gasp was swallowed by his lips finding hers, kissing her hungrily as if they had been parted from one another for years, dreaming of their shared kisses, clinging to bits and pieces of their memories. Both moaned in unison, allowing their tongues to meet, turning the kiss even more heated. 

Slowly he parted from her, allowing the both of them to catch their breaths. His cold hands found their way to her warm cheeks, thumb stroking along her swollen lips as he pondered over his words. (Y/n) struggled to concentrate on anything but his touch, taken up by the feeling she had been desperate to feel for years, wondering if and how Dean would touch her. 

“You’re mine, you always have been, and you always will be. I won’t share you, just the thought of it makes me sick.” Dean’s growled words shot heat to her core, walls clenching around nothing. Wordlessly she pulled him down for another kiss, needing to feel him close once again, not fully trusting that this wasn’t just a trick of her imagination. Dean pressed her even further against Baby, keeping her trapped to make her feel every inch of his body, groaning the second his growing bulge came in contact with her desperate heat. “Do you feel what you do to me? I should fuck you right here, for them to see that you’re mine, mine only.”

A whimper left (y/n) at his words, drawing a dangerous chuckle from Dean as he let go of her, giving her just enough space to find her way to the passenger seat. Her eyes didn’t dare part from his features, trying to soak up every second. She couldn’t stop her grin from widening as her hands began to move, finding his thigh before Dean could catch up on what she was trying to do. He shot her a warning look, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, but her hands kept moving, finding their way to his crotch, feeling his hardening cock strain against the fabric of his washed-out jeans. 

“Sweetheart,” Dean choked on the word, struggling to keep his eyes focused on the road. (Y/n) didn’t speak up, she began to shift in her seat, leaning towards him to free his growing cock from the confines of his clothes. The groan that left Dean filled her with giddiness, spitting into her palms before she touched him for the first time, slowly stroking him. “Fuck, feels so good, been dreaming of this.”

Her soft chuckles forced a grin to widen on Dean’s lips, freezing the second he felt her warm breath clashing against his soft skin. Without another warning, she parted her lips, spitting onto his tip before she took him in her mouth. The groan that left Dean echoed through Baby, a sound that forced (y/n) to hum around him, making the sound vibrate on his skin. 

Even though Dean tried to concentrate on the dark road ahead, he felt his concentration slipping, parking Baby on the side of the road before (y/n) realised what he was doing. With one hand getting tangled in her hair, Dean roughly pulled her off his cock and back in for a teeth-clashing kiss. 

“Get in the backseat, I need to fuck you now.” The rough tone of Dean’s voice left (y/n) moaning, struggling to make her way to the backseat with her thoughts focused on the things Dean would do to her. He didn’t waste any time the second she found him hovering over her, hands pulling on her trousers and panties to expose her dripping cunt, groaning at the sight. 

His calloused fingers touched her expertly, circling her pulsing bundle with just enough pressure to push her into another dimension. Within seconds Dean had turned her into a blabbering mess, choking on her words as he pushed two fingers into her tightness. He didn’t hold back, kept her pinned to the leather seat with his free hand finding her throat. 

“You’re mine, your body belongs to me from now on.” For years she had imagined moments like this, wondering if she’d ever be fortunate enough to feel him this close, wondering how it must feel to have his hands on her. She could stay buried beneath him till the end of their time, allowing Dean to touch her as he pleased. 

“Dean,” she whispered his name, unable to use any more strength with his hand choking her just the way she liked. “Fuck me, please.”

Dean stared down at her for a few seconds, nodding his head as he pulled away, reaching for his wallet to pull out a condom. Within moments he placed himself on top of (y/n), aligning his tip with her cunt. With their eyes holding contact, he pushed into her, groaning at the feeling of her walls fluttering around him. 

Her lips parted at the feeling of Dean slowly pushing into her, allowing (y/n) to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation. Dean stared down at her, eyes growing a few shades darker at the sight of her pleasure drunken features, finding excitement in her moans. Only as she nodded her head, teeth buried in her lower lip, did he start a faster rhythm, set on pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Dean, feels so good.” One of his hands found its way back to her throat, holding onto her as he fucked her faster, deeper, set on making her remember this very night till their last moment together. The Impala moved with his every thrust, keeping them protected from any dangers waiting out in the dark, allowing the two lovers to give in to their every emotion. 

“Been imagining this for years, but you feel even better than I thought, fuck, it’s like you were made for me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, could only clench around him with her eyes squeezed shut and her fingernails leaving crescent shapes on his neck. She held onto him as if he was about to disappear, about to leave her behind – even though she very well knew that Dean would never let go of her, forever holding her close.

The second Dean tightened his grip on her throat, she found herself looking up at him, allowing heat to rise in her system as she picked up on the love swimming in his pupils. Dean tilted his head down to press a kiss to her lips, momentarily distracting her from the feeling of his cock nudging her swollen spot, leaving her body tingling.

“Touch yourself for me, baby.” The simple command rolled off Dean’s tongue, filling the Impala with another wave of heat to crawl up her body. With one arm slung around his neck, the other found its way down her frame, fingers rubbing her clit. Dean could swear that he was finally in heaven, that he had finally found his peace with her buried beneath him, finally his to love. 

(Y/n) could only whisper Dean’s name, eyes once again falling shut as she came. He fucked her through her high, staring down at her with his lips pulled into a smirk. It took Dean a few more moments before he gave in, letting a string of curses roll off his tongue. 

“I love you, sweetheart.” His words made tears well up in (y/n)’s eyes, pulling him down for one last kiss before she repeated the three loving words.

[majestyeverlasting]

Just Another Friday Night

This piece contains 18+ content and explores the idea of Eddie as a soft dom.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie Munson's been your best friend since fifth grade. And on a night you think is going to pass just like any other, you realize you can't keep running from the way you feel.

Word Count: 6.2k

A/N: I hath returned. So excited to finally have this one out for you guys! Hopefully the person who requested this many moons ago is still somewhere in my orbit.

As soon as Eddie feels the pad of your finger meet the skin of his cheek, his lips curl into a soft smile. It brings small lines to the corners of his eyes and reveals the glint of his teeth in the dim light. Concentration sparkles in your eyes like water does beneath the moon. 

Both of you are seated on his messy bed. Him with his legs falling over the edge, and you angled towards him with your legs crossed. His breaths are steady, fingers lax from no longer strumming the strings of his guitar. 

When you finally manage to collect the fallen eyelash from his cheek, you hold out your pointer finger for him to see. If you’d been focussed on the song he was playing rather than studying his face, you never would’ve noticed the tiny hair to begin with. 

“M’kay.” His eyes flick back up to meet yours. “Now what?” 

You raise your finger closer to his lips. “You’ve got a wish to make.”

If there was anyone deserving of one, it was him. It had been almost a year since he crawled out of the Upside Down by the skin of his teeth. Half alive. You remembered all the long nights you’d spent by his hospital bed as he recovered.  

An air of weightlessness washes over both of you after Eddie blows it off your finger. As if somewhere far away, the course of time and happenings shifted in his favor.

“You can finish your song now. Sorry.” Smiling shyly, you tuck your hands into your lap and wiggle to get comfortable.

He smiles wider, but makes a quick work of tampering it back down. 

When he begins playing, you make sure to focus this time, letting the music soak in and flow through you. The passion is palpable, along with the underlying sense of purpose that hangs off the tail end of each resonant note. 

You’d been around to listen to him since the days he played off-tune chords with unsteady hands. As he sat playing now, hair curtained around his face, you knew he could easily captivate thousands if given the chance. 

As the song winds to an end, he looks at you and his fingers slow as the notes dissolve between you. The only thing left for you to do is applaud. Your approval makes him feel like there’s electricity buzzing beneath his veins. 

He absentmindedly strums a few quiet notes to keep his fingers busy, eyes remaining on you. “You’re the first person to hear it all the way through.” 

“Really? I loved it.” Honesty drips like honey from your words. 

He looks down to the fingerboard so you don’t see the faint flush of his cheeks. “Thanks. Lotta practice.”  

When he stands to hang his guitar back on the wall, you watch the way his shoulder blades shift under his t-shirt. You don’t mean to look as hard as you do. There was something captivating about the way he moved. Some days, he couldn’t sit still, but there were also nights like this one where he seemed to have embodied the very essence of ease. 

“So are you gonna add it to your setlist?”

He doesn’t answer right away, making sure Sweetheart is mounted securely. 

“Maybe after I’ve cleaned it up a bit,” he says. “The turnouts have been sick lately.” Gratitude glints in his eyes as they meet yours. 

Playing in front of a crowd at The Hideout was incomparable to selling out a venue like The Garden. But Eddie swore the gratification felt the same. With each new show, it’d been getting harder to find you in the crowd because of how many people had finally started giving him and the boys a chance. He never thought that locating you amid a sea head-bobbing bodies would be a pleasure he ever had. 

“Will I be getting a raise for spreading the word?” You tilt your head and bite back a smile.

He plays along as easily as breathing, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms. “You already eat my snacks, steal my jewelry, and make me drive you around,” he lists. “I don’t know what else there is to offer you, but it sure as hell won’t be Benjamin’s.” 

You have the nerve to blink up at him like a fawn. “It’s not my fault you hardly tell me no.” 

You make it easy to say yes a million times over. Again and again. 

There’s nothing for him to quip back with, so he sighs and studies you for the umpteenth time that night. There’s something amused about the glimmer in his eyes, but a fondness there as well. You’re wearing soft pants and a baggy sweater, looking effortlessly beautiful in a way that only you can manage. 

Guilt wastes no time prickling beneath his skin when you curl in on yourself a bit, self-conscious. You’ve never grown used to the way he makes you feel so seen. Part of you fears he can see right through to feelings you’ve been fighting to keep tucked away. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his eternally disheveled hair. 

“Maybe I should get better about that then,” he decides. “Start telling you no more often.” A lighthearted smile pulls at his lips. 

You look over at his alarm clock so you don’t drown within the increasing warmth of his umber eyes. You’re not ready to fall even though that’s what it feels like you’ve been doing for so long. 

He bites his lip in preparation for the weight of his next words, “I’ve been meaning to tell—“ 

“My folks are expecting me back by ten.” It’s the first thing you can think to say despite the fact that they hardly ever give you curfews. “I forgot to mention it sooner.”

“Oh.” He glances to his nightstand to scrutinize the red numbers glowing on the clock. Disappointment swells within him and makes him fidget. “How the hell is it almost ten already? Thing’s gotta be broken.” 

He pats the top of the device as if the right time was suddenly going to appear. “You can’t say for ten more minutes?” You shake your head apologetically. “How ‘bout five?” Another head shake. “Fuck—a minute thirty?” 

A laugh bubbles up your throat, making a helplessly gooey feeling melt down the walls of his chest. 

All too soon, with no success in convincing you, he’s walking you out to your car. 

The night’s chill nips at both of you without reprieve. You hug your arms and break into a jog to escape it faster, leaving Eddie slowly striding behind you in hopes of prolonging his last few moments with you. 

He watches you hop inside your family’s old station wagon and give the engine stuttering life. The headlights are soon to follow, illuminating a cluster of jittery moths. 

The feeling of his stare boring into the side of your face through the window makes you give into the urge to crank it down, handle squeaking faintly along with your movements. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” 

“Like what?” He huffs out a chuckle. “Where am I supposed to look? Up?” He tips his head backwards, and his demeanor immediately shifts. “Hey, the stars are out.” 

You peer through the windshield to see for yourself. Sure enough, countless of them shine like dull guardians miles and miles above lonesome Hawkins. They seem to span forever in every direction. The child in you looks for any surges of brightness or streaks that would indicate a shooting star. 

“The view’s better out here.” There’s a persuasive lilt to his voice. 

You don’t dare get out of the car. If you do, you wouldn’t make it home at all. It was getting too easy to be in his presence, like he was the bread and you were the butter that helplessly melted on top because you knew it’s where you belonged. 

“I really gotta go, E.” You swallow the sadness that wants to color your words as you buckle your seatbelt and settle back into the seat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

He kicks at a cigarette butt on the ground, and nods. You were always within arms reach, yet lightyears away. 

“Tomorrow,” he repeats. “Copy that.” 

A silence settles between you. The only sounds that prevail are the hum of your car engine, crickets, and muffled peels of laughter carrying from a few trailers down. 

Every time, it was you who pulled away at the eleventh hour before the dawn of something new. 

“Good night, Eddie.” 

•••

The cash register snaps closed with a resonant clamber. A beat later, you’re reaching out to take your change from the middle-aged lady thoughtfully chewing a piece of pink bubblegum behind the counter. The two of you are the only souls in the store. Humming freezers and a quiet instrumental soundtrack fill the air. 

She speaks up as you turn to leave, “You alright there, sweetheart?” 

“Just tired.” You sheepishly raise the bag carrying the Melatonin you’d purchased. 

Even God knew you weren’t going to be able to fall asleep on your own tonight. You’d lie awake thinking of all the reasons why you should’ve stayed. 

You take the time to read her name tag then: Irene. 

Her frown is sympathetic. “It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Warmth rushes to your cheeks. She then leans onto the counter and you feel compelled to take a step closer. “What’s his deal?” She studies your face for any hints before asking a different question, 

“What’s your deal?”  

You shrug lamely, and Irene tilts her head. You don’t owe her an answer, but you can’t help but feel as though you need to hear it for yourself. 

“I’m scared.” 

“It’s okay to be scared.” She blows a bubble and it pops neatly without sticking to her lips. “But it’s up to you to decide if you wanna be scared forever.”

•••

Eddie’s staring up at the ceiling when a faint series of knocks sound at the front door. Instead of moving, he blows out another cloud of smoke and watches as it dissipates into a thin haze in the air. The breeze entering through the cracked window helps filter it out. It isn’t until the knocks get louder that he’s convinced his mind isn’t playing tricks on him. 

What he’s not expecting is for you to be standing at the door. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

He doesn’t dare question his luck. “H-Hey.” Eddie lowers the joint from between his lips and turns away from you to quickly exhale. “Tonight, uh, doesn’t count.” 

He was supposed to be taking a break from smoking, and you’d promised to help keep him on track. But now, as he stood doing just that for the first time in two months, it wasn’t the joint that captured your attention. It was the reason why, the conflicted look in his eyes that the pungent haze failed to mask. 

His next words get cut off with a cough, and he doesn’t bother trying to say them again. 

You're met by warmth when he motions you inside. Guilt tries to convince you that you don’t deserve another chance, fear says you’re going to blow it. 

“Eddie?” He raises his eyebrows. “I’m really sorry.” 

The way he nods suggests he knew your curfew was fabricated from the start. “Don’t sweat it,” he lifts his shoulder. “I’m gonna go put this out.” He holds up the joint. 

You trail him back to his bedroom, where your eyes roam idly over the posters covering the walls. Different things to say rise to the tip of your tongue, but none of them spill over. 

Eddie turns towards you when he’s done. 

“You didn’t have to lie.” Your shoulders sink as you meet his gaze, but he easily turns to humor, “You could’ve just told me you were tired of being cramped up in a trailer. I probably would’ve agreed.” 

You can feel the ghost of a smile on your face, but you still mean your next words, “I feel like the worst person in the world.” 

His nose wrinkles. “Maybe the fourth or fifth, but definitely not the worst.” 

In spite of everything, both of you find it within yourselves to laugh. It feels good, mending. 

You regain your composure before Eddie, and upon noticing he tries even harder to quell his amusement. It takes a few extra seconds because he’s high, but he finally manages to get himself under control. 

He thinks before his next words, “I wasn’t expecting you to come back. You never do.” A lump forms in your throat as you toy with the hem of your sweater. “And all I can think about every time you leave is how I let you walk away without telling you how fucking much I enjoy you being around.”

You swallow. “I know you do.” 

He shakes his head. “I like hanging out with the guys too—I’ll hang out with anybody if they’re cool.” You watch him with doe eyes as he speaks. “But you, you’re a whole different story. You drive me crazy in the best fucking way ever.” Those words hang thick in the air. “When I blew that eyelash of your finger, I wished—”

“Wait,” you hold out a careful hand, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Don’t tell me.” Part of you wants him to, but not at the expense of the wish not coming true. 

That keeps him quiet for a few seconds. He’s still charged from his confession, electricity having taken the place of blood within his veins. 

“You came back,” Eddie states instead. “Why?” 

His eyes don’t leave you, and you take in his entirety for the first time since you’ve been back. Long hair, short sleeve Metallica shirt, faded pajama pants. He doesn’t have his chest puffed out or his chin turned up in that charming way he often does when he’s working a crowd or a group of friends. 

He’s leveled. No guard up, no mask on, just Eddie. 

The one who’s been by your side since fifth grade. Who could make your sides ache on the days when laughing was the last thing you thought you could do. Who got on your nerves almost every time you were together, but still managed to be one of your favorite people in the world. 

“You know how you always say there’s no shame in running?” you ask, shifting your weight. You’d sat in on enough of his D&D campaigns to have heard that phrase uttered. 

He nods. 

“Well, we both know it’s also worth something when you have the guts to stay. So this is me choosing not to run anymore.” From your feelings or from him. 

The room shrinks and grows one hundred degrees hotter when Eddie moves to stand closer to you. He reaches out to grasp your hand, calluses brushing your skin. The chunky metal rings adorning his fingers glint. 

Your next breath stalls as he presses your palm flat against the left side of his chest. The quickened rhythm of his heart drums against it fiercely. A mix of vulnerability and courage are married in his eyes. 

“Same,” you whisper, and his lips twitch upwards. “Here I was thinking this was gonna be just another Friday night.” 

You let your hand fall from his chest. 

A grin breaks across his face like dawn, more tender than it’s ever been. “I’m glad it’s not.” 

Time slows as he cups your face, eyes flitting over every detail as if to memorize it all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He whispers it like there’s nothing to question, like he's been waiting forever. 

You don’t mean to smile as wide as you do. His heart skips a beat, maybe two. He’s done holding back from what he’s been wanting to do for so long. 

Not another second passes before he presses his lips to yours. 

They move with careful earnesty. Despite the fact that it feels like your entire body bursts into stardust, you kiss him back with an innate sense of knowing. You can feel the puffs of air from his nose fanning over your skin, the way his thumbs brush over your cheeks. It’s intoxicating in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Even with the newness of it all, there’s an air of ease and familiarity that you lose yourself within. You don’t worry if you’re doing it right. 

By the time he pushes you backwards to sit on the edge of his bed, he’s taken off your sweater and tossed it onto the floor, leaving your pale pink bra newly on display. 

From your seated position, you watch him pull his own shirt over his head, further disheveling his hair. His milky skin hosts a myriad of dark tattoos and fading scars. Anticipation swirls in your core as he encourages you to lay on your back, propping himself overtop of you. He pecks the tip of your nose before slotting his lips over yours once again. 

A surprised sound escapes you when his lips begin to plant a trail of kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck, head tilting to give him more access. The moment your conscience catches up to reality, you push at his chest and he immediately pulls away. 

“Too much?” He studies your face. You can’t bring yourself to say no because you don’t want it to end. 

“I think I just need a second. Sorry.” Embarrassment clings to your words, but you muster a shaky laugh. “I’m not used to this kinda thing.” 

Eddie had experienced his share of sporadic flings, but his feelings never ran as deep as they do for you.  

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “I may like pushing your buttons, but ‘m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to, alright?” 

In all your years of knowing him, he’d never given you reason to believe he’d ever discount your feelings. Or that he was even capable of doing so. 

You raise a hand to cup his cheek. “Let’s keep going.” 

“You sure?” He turns his head to kiss your palm. “Absolutely positive?” He dips down and playfully nips at your collarbone. “Cross your heart?”  

You bite your lip to keep from giggling, but fail when he begins to move lower. He drinks in your laughter like it’s an elixir. 

He continues a disorderly line of kisses down your stomach, and your mind is beyond hazy by the time he reaches the waistband of your jeans. You don’t utter any words of protest when he kneels to pop the button open. The subsequent sound of your zipper being pulled down might as well be thunder with how quiet the room has grown aside from it. 

Your panties are the same pink as your bra, trimmed with thin lace that makes Eddie dizzy. Without waiting for him to ask, you lift your hips for him to pull down your pants. Once they’re on the floor, he runs his hands over both of your thighs, trying his best to memorize the feeling. You briefly close your eyes when his fingers ghost over the soft fabric of your underwear. Nerves bundle low in your stomach to the point where you feel like a live wire laying exposed before him. 

“You’re gonna be the end of me,” he says like a scripture. 

“Me?” you peer down at him in disbelief. 

“Yeah, you. Who else?” He lifts the thin waistband of your panties and lets it snap back down to your skin. “I’m gonna take ‘em off.” He only makes the announcement to give you a chance to refute it. 

Rather than doing so, you brace your feet so you can lift your hips for him once more. 

You’ve known him for the better half of your life. If anyone, your trust can reside in him. 

A string of awed expletives slip past his lips when there’s nothing left between him and your heat. To stop himself from staring, he turns his face into your thigh to suck a bruise into the plush skin. You don’t realize that’s what he’s doing until you feel the tiny pinch that stings so good. 

Your silence is perceived as permission to switch to the other leg to do the same. You can hear your heart in your ears, and regard it as a reminder that you’re alive and breathing during a moment you never thought would come. 

You’re marked now, his.

He runs a gentle finger from your clit to your wet folds, and your own sensitivity surprises you when your thighs snap closed and trap his hand. 

“Sorry,” you breathe, slowly blooming them open again. You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, where fondness seems to radiate like imperceivable rays of light. 

After pressing a kiss to the space just beneath your navel, he stands and climbs onto the bed with you. You sit up and look to him for further direction. 

An easy smile spreads across his face as he settles with his back against the wall where a headboard should be. 

“C’mere,” he stretches his legs out in front of himself. 

You crawl to him and sit so that your back is pressed against the warmth of his bare chest. It isn’t until you shift that you feel his erection pressing into your rear. 

You peek back at him with hot cheeks. “Sorry.”  

Eddie drops a kiss to your shoulder. “You’ve apologized five hundred times tonight.” You shrink in on yourself because you know it’s true. “You’re not allowed to anymore, capeesh?” 

You nod. 

“Now prop your legs up, buttercup.” You can hear the smile in his voice that hopes you caught his rhyme. 

You press your feet into his sheets and spread your knees into a V. 

His pointer finger finds your clit without warning, applying just enough pressure to hitch your breath. You’ve touched yourself before, but had never taken the time to truly gain an understanding of the deeper pleasure there was to be felt. 

Here Eddie was, showing you what you didn’t know about yourself.

He switches to rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb while his middle finger glides through the slickness of your folds, making you clench with want. You reach between your legs with the hope of helping, or perhaps egging things along, but Eddie tuts. 

“Hands off or I’ll stop.” His tone is gentle and commanding all at once. 

Even though you follow his instructions, he still withdraws his touch. A protest ends up dying in your throat when you feel his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra and pushing the straps down your goosebump-laden arms. It soon joins the rest of your clothes on the floor. You’ve never been so bare in front of another person. 

“Jesus, look at you,” he murmurs. His large hands raise to cup your breasts, fingers experimentally pinching both of your pebbled nipples. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful sight. 

You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips. Caught off guard when he grabs your hands and redirects them to your chest to take over for him. You tentatively pinch your nipples in the same way he’d done, sending minute shockwaves through your body. 

“There you go,” he coos into your ear. A gasp falls past your lips when his hand dips back between your legs to ease the tip of his middle finger into your entrance. As he pushes it in further, your toes curl tighter. 

But his touch disappears yet again, making an exasperated breath leave you as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder. 

“Eddie,” it’s a whine. “Are you teasing me?”

“No. I forgot to take my rings off.” They clink as he drops them onto the nightstand. “But I think I will now since you just had to say something.” The charged promise of those words sends a chill down your spine.

You’re begging three minutes later. A melodic mix of weakened pleads, his name, and incoherent bargains that only make him smile. 

He’s trapped you on the edge of a freefall. Your thighs ache from tensing, and the strong pulse of arousal between your legs consumes the entirety of your mind. His two middlemost fingers pump in and out of your entrance with no sense of urgency, curling into that spot within you that makes you want to shatter. Whenever he senses that you’re about to topple over the edge, he pauses to let a few seconds crawl by. 

It’s scary how good he is at reading you. At holding the reins. 

“I can’t anymore,” you breathlessly insist, pressing back into him. “Eddie, please.”

“Sure you can.” He suckles the spot beneath your ear. In your head, you scream at him in frustration but in reality you squeeze your eyes shut. 

He doesn’t know who he’s teasing anymore. Listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm has him twitching and straining in his boxers. 

Somewhere along the line, he remembers mercy. 

As soon as the cord within you snaps, your back arches and your walls flutter helplessly around his fingers. Your orgasm crashes over you in strong heated waves, each one fizzling out in their own time, making you tremble. 

When your breaths grow even again, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you as you watch, awed and silent. You place a hand on his thigh to ensure he stays close. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, basking in the warmth of each other’s body, the new air between you. It’s as if you’re waiting to be roused from a dream. 

“I wanna keep making you feel good,” he eventually murmurs into your ear, smirking when you shiver. “Will you let me do that?” 

The feeling of his erection pressing into your backside suddenly registers in your mind again, and you reach behind you to curiously palm the outline through his pajama pants. He feels it in his bones. 

“You can do whatever you want,” you tell him.

Eddie grabs your waist and gently pushes you forward so you know to let him get up. You settle in the middle of the bed and pull your legs up to your chest in a halfhearted reclaim of modesty. 

He stalks over to his dresser and scans the cluttered surface with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. You trace his back tattoos with your eyes. After pushing a few stray trinkets aside, he makes a sound of frustration.  

“What's wrong?” you ask. 

He continues looking. “Coulda sworn there was a condom lying around up here.” 

After a beat, you crawl to the edge of his bed so you can peek into the drawer of his nightstand. There’s notebooks filled with song lyrics, old magazines, a Walkman, batteries, guitar picks. No square foils in sight. 

“Can’t we still…” your words fade when he meets your gaze, but he gives you an encouraging nod. “You know. If we’re extra careful, right?” Your voice is just above a murmur by the time you stop speaking. 

The innocence seeping from your gaze makes a helpless fool out of him. 

The next thing you know, he’s pulling his pants and boxers down in one go, cock springing up towards his belly as you watch with owlish eyes. A dark tuft of hair curls at the base, and the head is a pretty shade of rose that’s beading pearlescent pre-cum. A prominent vein snakes along the underside. 

You’re more than ready. It’s the lightning in a bottle type sureness that you can’t believe you’ve come to know so well. The second he starts moving towards the bed again, you reposition onto your back. 

Though you don’t utter a single word, every unspoken thought from your mind seems to shape his smile. It’s not entirely proud, there’s a hint of softness to it. Something giddy residing just beneath the surface that takes the edge off the intensity of his gaze. 

A comforting heat radiates from his body as he positions himself overtop of you. 

He reaches between your legs to collect the tell tale sign of your arousal on his fingers, and your eyelashes flutter. “Nice and ready for me, huh?” 

The tone of his voice makes you want to hide. You feel small and on top of the world at the same time. Eagerness is written all over your face. And in the way your chest rises with quicker breaths. How your fingers are curled into the sheets. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You’re glad he does because you’re certain all words would fail if you tried to speak. 

All you can do is blink up at him, propping your legs on either side of him as he lines himself up at your entrance. 

It’s overwhelming at first, incomparable to his fingers. But he takes it slow, watching your face the whole while. Before you know it, you’ve stretched to take the entirety of his length, and his eyes are glued to where you’re joined. 

He bottoms out with a satisfied grunt, hair falling into his face. The fullness makes up for the dull ache. Especially as he begins to slowly pull out in preparation for another pump. A gasp escapes you the second time he eases back in, and your face scrunches with the new depth that comes with hooking your legs around the back of his thighs. 

“If you wanna stop at any point just tell me, okay?” He tries his best to keep his voice steady. 

“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 

He finds a rhythm before long, cheeks flushed right along with his chest. He looks beautiful like this. Even his pleasured sighs and huffs rush straight to the pit of your stomach. 

“Lemme hear you,” his voice comes out gruff. “Stop holding back.” 

You swallow a moan. “‘M not.” 

Unconvinced, Eddie rolls one of your nipples between his fingers, and your breath stutters on its way out. You don’t remember being this sensitive earlier, and a few more pinches have your mouth gaping open just as he expected. 

His thrusts grow pointedly harder, forcing the fire building in your core to burn brighter. 

“Oh, god—Eddie,” you finally choke out, gripping onto his biceps. 

He swears he grows impossibly harder, orgasm creeping even closer from its place in the distance. You’re so soft, so warm, so wet, squeezing him in a maddening way. Your blunt fingernails move to dig into the back of his shoulders, leaving crescent indents in their wake.

“Say my name again.”

“Eddie,” you sigh, helplessly clenching around him. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” You sound dreamy. It rushes straight between his legs, and he can feel that familiar coil beginning to wear thin. 

Hearing you say his name like that was going to do him in. 

A sudden burst of confidence finds you. “You’re so deep—gonna make me come.” 

His hips falter and something shifts in his eyes. He starts drawing circles over your clit.

“I wanna feel you fall apart around me,” he says, and you nod because you want that for him. “But not until I say, alright?” 

Your stomach drops. 

When you don’t answer, he slows to a torturous pace that makes your head spin. “Gotta answer me so I know we’re on the same page.” 

“We always have been,” you half slur, drunk on him. 

As Eddie looks down at you, he sees a large fraction of his world woven into the delicate furrow of your eyebrows, the way your eyelashes meet the very tops of your cheeks, the part of your cherry-tainted lips. 

He lowers himself so that his chest is grazing yours as he continues thrusting, pubic bone dragging over your clit. The feeling of his warm breaths fanning into your ear makes you shudder, and when you arch up, you’re only met by more of his warmth, more of him. There is no escape, nowhere to run. Only accept. 

“Wish I could, shit, wish I could bottle this feeling in a fucking jar and keep it forever,” he grits into your ear. “Never felt anything this good… five stars from me.” He’s fighting to hold himself together. 

You miss half of those words because you’re on the verge of an ascension. 

“Eddie,” you breathe, somewhat startled. “Eddie, please. Can I come? I’m so close.” 

“How close?” 

Your voice goes airy and high because he’s hitting just the right spot. “‘M right there.” 

“Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” Whining, you claw into his skin with the intent of making it sting, but it only makes his shoulders shake with a chuckle. “I’ll shut this whole show down if you wanna play that game—” 

“So good!” you whimper, giving in. “You’re making me feel so good. Just… please.” You clench around him in hopes of earning an okay.  

It almost makes him fold, come right on the spot, but he still forces out a, “Not yet, angel. I gotta practice telling you no, remember?” 

His constant denial was only adding fuel to the fire of pleasure burning within you and he knew it.

By his next thrust, he could tell the beginnings of an unraveling had begun sweeping you under. Even though he sees it coming from a mile away, he nearly passes out himself when you let go.

Eyes closed, your walls flutter around him in a strong, rapid succession that carries on for a while. You’re being lifted somewhere higher than you’ve ever known. The world fades around the edges, and the distant sound of Eddie’s voice washes over you as your jaw slacks open.  

There you go, that’s it. Couldn’t hold back any longer, huh?

Only when aftershocks begin to spark through you do you realize how deep your breaths have grown, and the new laxity of your limbs that makes you feel like you’ve become one with his bed, trembling weakly. A wonderful ache resides between your legs. 

A gentle weight soon meets your lower stomach, and your eyes flutter open just enough to see. Eddie has pulled himself from within the warmth of you, and rested his slickened tip against your warm skin. You watch dazedly as he strokes himself a few good times before jolting and releasing onto your belly. 

All you get is a glimpse of his blissed expression before he leans down to tuck his face into your neck. You lift a hand to his head and gently scratch at his scalp as you feel him begin to place soft kisses to your throat. You can still feel his cock against your belly, and you work your other hand between your bodies to wrap your delicate fingers around him. 

His whole body shudders, and when you lightly circle your thumb around the tip your name breathlessly falls past his lips. 

He grunts and makes you stop when you start to do the same lazy motion again, and you chuckle weakly. 

“Oh, is that funny?” he asks, wrestling a smile. When you bite your lip and nod sweetly, he pushes himself up so he’s propped higher above you. “You wanna know what else is funny? I don’t think I ever gave you the green light to come.” 

You blink up at him innocently. “I couldn’t help it.” 

He begins tracing the underside of one of your breasts and you suck in a breath, gripping onto his wrist. He pulls from your hold, and that same hand trails down your body, over your ribs and down your sides. His fingers leave a tingly buzz in their wake. You try not to squirm too much because his spend is still on your stomach. 

“I’m trying to decide if I should do something about it or be nice,” he says, ghosting a finger over your oversensitive clit. 

When you whimper, his fingertips move to revisit one of the marks he left on the inside of your thighs, and the ticklish sensation makes your muscles tense as you huff out a tired laugh. He playfully quirks his brows at that reaction, but you can see the warmth in his eyes. 

You smile when he leans down to give your lips a sweet peck. “I’ll be nice,'' he promises. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

•••

When midnight comes, sleep has found neither of you. You’re both fighting it, trying to stay awake so you can continue sharing hushed stories, soft caresses, and smiles that warm you right along with the sheets covering your bodies. 

Your eyes are the first to begin fluttering, and Eddie stops talking when he notices. 

“No, keep going,” you murmur. “I’m listening.” 

“We can talk more in the morning,” he says. You shake your head no, and he chuckles. “Yes. Go to sleep.”

Before you have the chance to say anything else, he reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off. You press yourself closer to his body after he settles back beside you. 

Neither of you say anything for a while, so you begin to assume he’s dozed off. When he speaks up again, his words are soft and honest, “This is what I wished for. A moment just like this.” 

You mean to tell him that you think you’re in love.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

For more fics, see my pinned post! 

To join my taglist, turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting

[lucyandalexiafan]

blow off steam | Alexia Putellas x reader | part 1

summary: since Alexia got injured two weeks ago, it's obviously that she needs to blow off steam; so, after the umpteenth attempt by her to have your attention, you ask her to take control, to completely dominate you.

Warnings: dom!Alexia, sub!reader, kneel at Alexia's feet, Alexia' fingers that fuck reader's mouth while reader in kneeling in front of her, humping shoe, face slaps (three times), humiliations, degradations, use of pet names / slut, light jelaous!Alexia, dirty talk, praise, hair pulling.

words: 3131

Do not copy, translate or claim my works and fics as your own; if I find out I will report them and block you. Instead, write to me, my directs are always open, and ask me if you can publish your work/fic inspired by one of mine. However, you can reblog them!

Nb: English is not my first language and I’m not sure if it’s “blow off steam” or “blow of some steam”. I searched online but I didn’t understood, so I’m sorry if it’s wrong the way that I used

I turn off the TV interrupting the program that Ale is watching, the umpteenth trashy program.

Since she was injured two weeks ago, she has become unbearable.

She doesn't come to the field during training hours anymore, she doesn't go out, she doesn't cook, and she doesn't do anything other than be on the phone and watch stupid programs on any TV channel or streaming platform.

It doesn't bother me that she behaves like this or, at least, I understand her, I try to understand her; so I do everything for both of us without protesting, without emphasizing how to take care of the house, shopping all the different type of food required by our diets, cooking different dishes for me and her every lunch and dinner (due to the variation of her diet), do not combine well with the study for my master's degree, with the research I am doing, and with my training with the team.

I don't protest, I don't snort, I don't say anything. 

I accept any comment about how overcooked the chicken is, about the fact that the bread had to be soft wheat and not whole wheat, about how messy the kitchen is.

I didn't even comment on the fact that she delegated the care of her dog to me alone, even though she can walk.

I accepted to study all night and write those essays at unreasonable hours, risking not completing my homework or showing up not prepared enough for meetings with university tutors, as well as showing up for training tired, exhausted and with less and less energy.

But today... today it's too much.

I had started studying in the kitchen, on the counter, because I had started cooking dinner and lunch for tomorrow; Ale was watching television. She knows, she knows, how much I hate having too much noise around, how much the overstimulation is a problem for me because of my ADHD, how much I go into crisis when there is too much chaos around me, no longer being able to concentrate and control myself, always ending up looking around, trying to figure out where all the voices are coming from and, when there are too many, ending up on the verge of tears.

She knows it.

But, despite this, she had started using TikTok at maximum volume at the same time as the television, creating an annoying chaos that could not even be masked by the music that passed through my headphones.

I had asked her to turn down the volume several times, I had even texted her asking her to stop because I had to study, telling her that it was important that I end that essay within three days, before the last game before the Christmas holidays.

After half an hour of trying I couldn't take it anymore, I got up, took the remote control and turned off the television.

"What are you doing?" she asks irritated.

The sharp voice.

I bite my lip.

We haven't had sex in two weeks and I haven't had an orgasm for three, and seeing her so angry floods my belly with sharps of pleasure.

Ever since we had started experimenting with sex, since Ale had started to be dominant in bed and I had started to feel free enough and trust her enough to be completely submissive, we had established 'rules'; one of the ones we started experimenting with first was about orgasms. 

No orgasms that aren't given by her or that she doesn't allow me to have.

It had not only increased libido and feeling in bed, but also communication. Since we had established this rule, we had begun to talk much more about sex, to describe how we felt and to provoke ourselves; I had begun to no longer feel embarrassed to express my sex urge or tell her what I needed. 

Begging her for what I needed.

So, after exactly three weeks since my last orgasm, I'm extremely needy.

Ale, at the same time, is extremely angry, disappointed, and resentful, about the injury and I know, I'm sure, that she would like to blow off steam on me, on my body, but she is afraid to ask for it, to do it. She's afraid because she's never done it before, because she's always afraid of hurting me and because she knows what I've been through in the past.

So now, because she doesn't want to express this need, she is short-tempered, rude, arrogant.

I kneel on the ground, in front of her, my legs slightly apart.

I look into her eyes.

She swallows the saliva, the phone still in her hand, as she jams her eyes into mine.

"I would like you to take control – I say, my voice trembling with embarrassment – I need you to blow off steam on me and I need to be dominated, to let you be in control"

I bite my lip.

The fear that he will refuse, that she will say no, that she will think I am crazy, increases when she does not respond immediately.

"You don't know what you're asking for, little girl" 

The low voice, the seraphic tone.

"I want you to take control Reina, I want you to punish me, I want you to use my body"

She lay her phone on the couch.

"You don't have to do it for me, i-"

"I want it, Ale, I need it as much as you do" I whisper, pleading, looking into her eyes.

Nails playing with a little skin on my index finger.

She nods.

"Are there any things you don't want me to use or do?" the tone is the one she uses on the field when she's the team captain.

That confident tone, which admits no reply.

"No, Reina"

I touch her right calf with one hand, the need for physical contact advancing in me; I play with her skin, just massage her.

She grins, looking at me.

She looks at me, her face slightly tilted.

She bites her lip, as if pondering my request.

"Now I'm going to make you a list of items or practices and you have to tell me with safewords which ones are green, which ones are yellow, and which ones are red, okay? – I nod – What are your safewords?"

"Green to continue, yellow to slow down, red to stop"

"Good girl - I twitch my thighs, a knot in my belly, as her hand brushes my cheek, a satisfied look as she looks down on me – then let's get started"

After a few minutes, I had established green orgasm denial, spanking with hands and belt, the use of the collar with the leash, the use of ropes or more generally in bondage, penetrative sex with both fingers and dildos, the use of plugs and strap-ons, degradation; yellow overstimulation and preventing me from speaking by putting objects in my mouth; red blindfold. However, I asked her if she could use pet names from time to time to reassure me, so the degradation and humiliation were not the only channels of communication during a scene we were experiencing for the first time.

I clasp my hands on my thighs, my belly invaded by contractions of pleasure.

"Have you had any orgasms since the last time I got you one?" the tone is so low that it gives me goosebumps.

"No, Reina" I hurry to answer; a marked blush colors my cheeks and neck because no matter how much we talked about sex, how much we started experimenting in bed more than a year ago, I will never stop being embarrassed when we talk about these things.

She grinns with satisfaction.

"Something as needy as you hasn't had an orgasm in three weeks, hm? – she asks as she strokes my cheek with her thumb, a fake smile of pity adorns her face – Does your need to be a good girl, to please me, also beat your need of an orgasm?"

I look down immediately, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

How can she make me so submissive, so needy, with just one question?

The panties are soaked, I feel them being uncomfortably attached to my intimacy.

"Yes, Reina, I just want to please you"

She moans openly at my answer and I see the muscles in her legs twitch.

I close my eyes to the sound.

"I don't think I told you that you can not look me in the eye"

I look at her, eyes slightly wider, position more rigid as I try to hold her gaze.

"I'm sorry Reina," I whisper guiltily.

We haven't even started and I'm already breaking the rules?

She looks at me for a moment and then her gaze, that sadistic, excited look, softens; a sweet, loving smile replaces the grin that had begun to adorn her face since she began to list what she could and couldn't do tonight.

"Amor, this is the last chance I'll give you to stop everything before we start, before I start punishing you and then take you to the bedroom, where only the safewords will make me stop – the suddenly cautious, sweet tone, like it's never been in the last two weeks – I'm not going to get angry, resentful or irritated if you tell me you don't want to go on anymore or that you're not sure anymore, baby, but I want you to tell me before you start because I don't want to start without being sure that you want it as much as I do; we will cuddle and maybe watching a film, order some takeaway food"

Her hand on my cheek, the back of my index and middle fingers caressing my skin.

I look at her, every fear gone, every tension leaves my body. 

She is always her, the sweet, caring, loving girlfriend who would never hurt me or continue something I don't want. 

No matter how much she needs to blow off steam, she would never hurt me.

I shake my head.

"I... I want to do it Reina, but-but only if you want it completely too" I answer, my voice trembling with embarrassment, but my gaze fixed on hers.

She smiles.

Her beautiful smile.

"I love it when you call me Reina, I'll never stop saying it" she whispers as she runs her thumb over my bottom lip, as she frees it from the grip of my teeth.

I open my lips allowing her to stick it past my teeth, into my mouth; she pushes it all in, until she hits my chin with her palm. I lick it slowly as I look straight into her eyes.

After a while she replaces it with her index and middle fingers, pushing them into my mouth slowly, and then she starts to move them, as if to fuck my mouth.

I go along with it, licking her fingers, opening and closing my lips against her skin. 

She groans looking at me.

"So submissive, at my feet, while you call me Reina – she pushes her fingers harder into my mouth, until she touches my chin with her palm again, and touching the back of my throat, gagging me – My dirty filthy slut"

I gasp.

I place my hands on her knees, as if looking for a support to hold on to while she fucks my mouth with her fingers.

She sneers.

I look at her from below, her lips slightly open twisted into a grin, her eyes veiled by sadism, her cheeks flushed, her tongue occasionally caressing her lips, her brow furrowed, the hair of her forelock escaping the grip behind her ears.

"Hands behind your back, I don't think I told you you can touch me" 

I groan in surprise as I hurry to do what she says, squeezing one hand into the other until my nails are in my palm.

The tips of her fingers touch the back of my throat with each thrust, and with every moan I make, she grins; She tells me to breathe through the nose when she realizes that, due to gagging, I struggle to breathe through my mouth.

She continues like this for some time that seems like minutes, she fucks my mouth with her fingers, her gaze alternating between my eyes and my mouth, a sadistic grin, until she takes them off completely.

I moan, finally free to breathe through my mouth.

She wipes the fingers against my cheeks, the back on one cheek, the inside on the other; the trickle of saliva that still connects them to my lips.

She puts her hand on my right cheek and I know what's going to happen.

"Disobedient little girl – the first slap is light against my skin, more for the scene than for anything else – Twice you disobey my orders and I didn't even touch you"

I gasp looking at her, her lips still slightly parted.

Then, as she walked away, her hand hits my cheek.

We both moan at the same time, her greasing and lowest, mine louder.

No matter how much I expected it, it's getting more and more exciting every time.

"Color, little girl?" she asks, an attentive look on my face trying to understand what I think about the slap.

"Green... green Reina" I moan.

"Dirty little," she whispers as she caresses my face, "So needy just because I fucked your mouth, hm?" she asks, as she runs her fingers over my lips, but without pushing them any further.

"Yes-yes Reina," I say cautiously in response.

Then, suddenly, she moves one leg between mine until I feel her foot, covered by her favorite and most expensive pair of shoes, in contact with my intimacy.

"Hump my shoe, slut" 

It's an order said as she leans back on the couch. She opens her arms, resting them on the headboard of the sofa.

I wade at her, my eyes wide open with the request, but my pupils probably dilated with excitement. I'm incredulous.

"Color, little girl?" she asks when, after a few seconds, I don't move, her voice warm, lovely.

"G-green Reina – I whisper hesitantly, realizing the time that has passed, realizing that by doing so I was disobeying – I'm sorry"

She moves her torso toward me, her hand grabbing a hand of my hair. "Do you want to add a third punishment to the two you've already earned, hm? – I answer with a faint no, Reina – Then, move" she continues, her tone suddenly more authoritative and dominant, no longer disguised as feigned pity, her back coming back into contact with the sofa.

I bite my lip and moan when I feel her shoe move slightly against my clit.

"C-can I put my hands on your leg Reina?" I ask, my voice faint, the need to touch her, for physical contact.

"Aw, little girl, can't you even keep your balance? Okay, grab my leg. You can lean against it however you want," the mocking tone.

My hands grab her calf.

My torso is against her shin as I slowly begin to move.

I'm wearing thin shorts and panties made of almost non-existent fabric, so with every movement I feel the relief of the shoelaces against my clit.

I moan, I whine, unashamed.

I squeeze her leg as I rest my head on the lower part of her inner thigh, just above the knee, breaking eye contact. 

As soon as the tip of her shoe starts to move against me, putting pressure on my hole, I start moving faster and faster; I'm not sensual, I'm not pretty bent over her, my back arched out, my head down.

"Dirty little slut," she says while her hand scratches my scalp "How does it feel to hump against a so expensive shoe that I've been looking for months in any shop in Barcelona, to be so slutty that you seek satisfaction and pleasure by rubbing yourself on a shoe without shame?"

I whine in humiliation.

"Please Reina, can I... can I-"

Her hand clenches in my hair, forcing me to look at her.

"Don't even try. This is just the beginning – she hits my cheek again – Did you think it would be so easy after disobeying me?"

I bite my lip, looking at her with the most puppy look I'm capable of; my vision slightly clouded by excitement and tears.

I open my mouth a couple of times, attempting to speak, but no sound other than a moan comes out.

When she notices that I am not responding, she stops moving her foot. "Color?"

"Green" I answer immediately, as I continue to move on her shoe, hoping that she will move again.

The shoelaces against my clit.

The contractions of pleasure in the lower abdomen.

She grinns as she looks at me.

She reaches down to kiss me, her hand still in my hair.

Then, as it all began, she moves the shoe away from my intimacy.

"How do you feel, hm? What would people say if they could see you like this, at my feet, desperate after humped my shoe like a slut, hmm? What would our teammates say if they saw you like that? – she grins, the hand that makes pat pat on my head – How do you think Aitana and Ona would react, mh?"

I close my eyes.

"None of them will be able to make you feel like that, reduce you like that, like I do. Not even Lucia. It doesn't matter how hard they try"

"Please, please," I whisper as I tighten my fingers around her knee.

The humiliation becomes pleasure, contractions of pleasure stronger and stronger, when she starts talking about the team, about my friends, about Lucy.

Of her jealousy of Lucy, caused by the fact that we are so close friends and that she is also dominant in bed; the eldest is openly dominant in bed, while Ale is much more modest in making her sexual performances public to the team. Modesty for which I am grateful, but which makes her feel clearly in competition with the English player.

"Please what, little one?"

Cheeks that burn when I hear the pet name.

Her fingers forcing my chin to look at her.

Her blonde hair is tousled.

"Touch me, please Reina... I-I need to-"

Humiliation breaks through my legs, which I immediately clench.

To be at her feet, to call her Reina, to be so desperate.

"I just want you, Reina... I... on-only you. No one else," she moans, "I beg you."

"Get up, go to our room and strip. I want you on the bed, on hands and knees. In less than ten minutes I'll be there."

[jobean12-blog]

Helping Hands

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Word Count: 704

Summary: Joel's working on fixing something that you'll love but as soon as you come to see what it is he gets distracted...in the best way.

Author's Note: This is just 700 words of pure indulgence because these small moments are everything for me and if I had Joel I wouldn't want his hands anywhere but on me all the time and I love when two people just can't get enough of each other and just the smallest touch is everything. Anyway hehe thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Soft and sweet fluffy fluff

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“What are you working on?”

Joel’s head whips up at the sound of your voice and he blinks, clearly pulled from concentration.

“What’s that darlin’?” he asks, his attention now completely focused on you.

His gaze wanders slowly down your body and he leans back in the chair, smoothing his large hands over his spread thighs.

With a gentle smile you walk to the table and lean your hip against the edge.

“I was wondering what you were up to.”

“Oh,” he says with a lopsided smile. “I found this old record player and I was going to try to get it to work again but it’s a mess.”  

Your face brightens at the thought of hearing music.

“I know,” he says with understanding. “I’ll do my best.”

You lean in and kiss his scruffy cheek and with your lips still pressed to his skin he turns his head and finds your mouth, whispering softly, “wanna help?”

“Me?” you ask as you pull away slightly. “Are you sure? I have no idea how to use tools or anything.”

Laugh lines appear around his eyes and then he pats his big, thick thigh.

“Get over here.”

You drag your teeth over your bottom lip and move around him to climb onto his thigh. You can feel the rough material of his jeans on your skin and every flex of his muscle.

With a shaky inhale you scoot back and get comfortable.

He wraps his left arm around your waist and secures you against his chest.

“Ok hold this,” he instructs before pointing to the needle on the record player.

He then grabs the screw driver and begins unscrewing something with his right hand. When it pops off he sets it down and studies the machine.

“Hmm…” he muses. “We might need parts…good thing I have this old thing.”

He leans forward to grab the old radio on the table. The warmth and weight of his body is so welcoming that you let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer.

“Where did you get that?” you ask, turning your head to find him only a breath away, his dark brown eyes trained on your mouth.

The arm wrapped around your belly flexes and his large hand splays along your skin.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” you murmur. “I want this thing fixed.”

“Thought that’s what we were doin’ angel,” he smirks.

“If you keep this up it’ll never get fixed.”

“Keep what up?” he asks with feigned innocence even as his hand slowly slides along the curve of your body.

You melt against him as warmth spreads across your skin.

“Joel,” you breathe out.

“It’ll get fixed darlin’…but it’s hard to concentrate now.”

“Well that’s your fault,” you whisper. “You asked for help.”

His calloused fingertips ghost over your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and then find your neck, trailing along the delicate skin until he’s pressing them under your chin and tilting your face closer.

“Joel,” you hum with one last weak attempted warning as your eyelids flutter closed.

“Hm?” he grunts as he brushes his lips to yours.

“Thought you wanted help.”

He pulls back and traces his thumb over your lips.

“This is helping.”

His hand slides to the back of your neck and wraps around it before he tugs you down to his mouth.

Your own hand smooths up and over his chest and your fingers curl into his hair, giving it a sharp tug.

“Angel,” he growls.

He stands in one swift motion and takes you with him, gently letting you slide down his body until your feet hit the ground, his mouth still on yours.

With sure steps he walks you backward toward the wall and pins you there with his large frame.

You let out a moan of his name and reach your fingers under his shirt to feel his skin.

He rests his hands on either side of your face, sweeping his thumbs softly over your closed eyes.

“I promise,” he starts on a murmur before kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll get it fixed.”

His lips are just a breath away, his nose lightly brushing yours…” just need you first darlin.’ Please.”

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814

[gvnvks]

zb1 boys being clingy

> pairings: non-idol!zb1 x fem!reader

> warnings: lowercase intended, not proofread

> song recommendation: one missed call by jann

> note: idk yall this kinda sucks ass, especially the hanbin and taerae ones cuz i ran out of ideas 😭 requests r open

김 jiwoong.

jiwoong had been working on his latest movie project for weeks now, and he was starting to feel the toll it was taking on his body and mind. the only thing keeping him going was the thought of seeing you - his girlfriend. as soon as he spotted you, he ran towards you and engulfed you in a tight embrace, inhaling your sweet scent. you laughed at your boyfriends sudden clinginess, but reciprocated the hug nonetheless. “I missed you.” jiwoong whispered into your ear, you rubbing his back soothingly. “I missed you too.” you whispered back. jiwoong didn't want to let go of you just yet, so he wrapped his arm around your waist as the both of you walked towards his trailer. he leaned his head on your shoulder, enjoying your warmth and the feeling of being close to you. “you’re my favorite person, (y/n).” your boyfriend murmured, causing you to smile. “i better be! i’m the only one you’ve got.” you teased, poking his side playfully. jiwoong chuckled, but his grip on you tightened. he nuzzled his face into your neck, feeling content and at ease in your presence. jiwoong didn't want this moment to end, but he knew he had to go back to filming soon. “I wish you could stay here with me forever.”

rest members under the cut!

장 hao.

hao had been practicing playing the violin for hours, trying to perfect a new piece. his fingers were sore and his mind was exhausted, but all he could think about was you. he decided to take a break and texted you to come over. as soon as you arrived, hao wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. “hey,” he mumbled, his voice tired but affectionate. "i missed you so much today." you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. "i missed you too, hao. how’s the practicing going?" hao groaned and pulled away slightly, leaning against the wall for support. "it's so frustrating. i can't seem to get this piece right." you placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “don’t stress to much, hao. you’re amazing.” hao nodded, grateful for your words of comfort. he leaned in again, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face in your neck. "i just want to be close to you, is that okay?" hao hesitated for a while. you laughed softly, running your hands up and down his back. “what do you mean? why wouldn’t it be? i love you.” hao smiled, his eyes closed in contentment. “i love you too.” you stood there in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company and the feeling of being close.

성 hanbin

hanbin was sitting on the bed, you busy with your books and notes spread out in front of you. he had planned to play some video games but found himself more interested in snuggling up to you. he leaned over, resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you study. “you look so cute when you're studying,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. you smiled, continuing to write down some notes, trying not to be distracted by his affectionate gestures. “hanbin, i need to finish studying.” you reminded him gently, hoping he would let go and let you concentrate. “just a few more minutes,” he pleaded, not wanting to let go of you just yet. “you're so warm and cozy.” as you continued to work, hanbin played with your hair, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple or neck. despite his clinginess, you couldn't help but find it endearing and a welcome distraction from your schoolwork. after what felt like hours, you finally finished studying and let out a sigh of relief. hanbin beamed at you, pulling you into a tight hug. "see, i knew you could do it," he said, nuzzling his face into your hair.

석 matthew.

the dance studio was quiet except for the soft humming of the music in the background. the sun was shining through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. matthew had always been a dedicated dancer, and he was constantly striving to improve his skills. but on this particular day, the heat in the dance studio was almost unbearable, and he found himself struggling to keep up with the rigorous routine. as he took a break, you approached him with a concerned look on you face. “hey, you okay?” you asked, noticing the beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead. your boyfriend nodded, feeling a sense of relief as you gently wiped the sweat away with your fingers. “thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse from the exertion. as you continued to wipe the sweat from his forehead, matthew couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort as he clung tightly to your side, holding your other hand in his. he knew that he was pushing himself to his limits, but he also knew that he had you by his side, supporting him every step of the way. “this is tough, but you’re tougher. i’m so proud of you.” you said, your voice filled with admiration. matthew smiled, feeling a surge of energy as he looked into your eyes. “i love you.” he said, his voice filled with emotion, as he took your hands and nuzzled his face in them, trying to smell your scent.

김 taerae.

taerae had been feeling down lately, and he couldn't quite put his finger on why. he tried to push through it, but it seemed like everything was getting on top of him. he just wanted to feel better, but he didn't know how. one day, while he was spending time with you, he couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over him. taerae hugged you tightly, feeling your warmth and softness of your body against his, his head laying on your chest, his heartbeat syncing with yours. “what’s wrong, rae?” you whispered softly, rubbing his back. taerae shook his head. “i don't know. i just feel like everything's getting on top of me, you know? like I'm failing at everything.” you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. “you aren’t failing at anything, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. every day may not be a good day, but there is something good in every day. remember that you have my full support, taerae, no matter what you do. you're amazing. you just need to take some time for yourself and do things that make you happy." taerae nodded, feeling a little better already. his lips found their way to your temple, kissing you gently. then again, he put his head on your chest, feeling your heart. he knew that no matter what, you were there for him. always. you feel asleep holding taerae in your arms, feeling more complete than ever.

리키 ricky.

you and ricky were walking around the shopping mall, browsing through different stores. as you passed by a clothing store, you stopped to look at a dress in the window display. ricky, who was walking a few steps behind you, noticed your interest and quickly caught up to you. “that's a nice dress,” he commented, looking at the dress in the window. “wanna try it on?” he asked, now looking at your face. “of course!” you replied enthusiastically, already leading the way into the store. as you entered, ricky wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you smiled, feeling comforted by his touch. as you browsed through the racks of clothing, you picked out a few items to try on. ricky followed her into the changing room, waiting outside your stall. as she tried on the clothes, you couldn't help but notice how ricky was being extra clingy today. he would occasionally lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek or brush his hand against yours. “is everything okay?” you asked, noticing how he seemed to be holding onto you tightly. ricky hesitated for a moment before speaking up, “i just want to be close to you today. is that okay?” “of course,” you replied, smiling at him. “i'm always here for you, ricky.” ricky pulled you in for a tight embrace, feeling grateful for your understanding. "thank you." he whispered, holding you close.

김 gyuvin.

gyuvin was sitting on the couch, completely engrossed in his video game. you were sitting next to him, scrolling through your phone, trying not to disturb his focus. as he played, he found himself becoming more and more frustrated, unable to get past a difficult level. without thinking, he leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder, letting out a sigh of frustration. you looked up, surprised by the sudden contact, but smiled and wrapped his arm around him. gyuvin leaned into you, feeling comforted by your warmth and presence. he continued to play the game, occasionally letting out a grunt or a curse when he failed to make a move. but each time, you would rub his back or run your fingers through his hair, reminding him that he wasn't alone. as the game went on, gyuvin found himself less and less interested in winning and more interested in simply being close to you. he let the controller fall to the floor and turned to face you, burying his face in your neck. “i love you.” he murmured unexpectedly, his voice muffled by your hair.

박 gunwook.

you and gunwook were lounging on the couch, casually chatting and enjoying each other's company. gunwook couldn't help but admire your beauty, from your sparkling eyes to your lips. without a second thought, he reached out and began tracing the contours of your face with his fingertips, marveling at the softness of your skin. as he continued to trace your features, he suddenly felt overcome with emotions and found himself clinging tightly to you, burying his face in your neck. you could feel the intensity of his embrace and wrapped your arms around him in return, trying to comfort him. “i'm sorry, (y/n),” gunwook mumbled into your shoulder. “i just love you so much and I don't know what i'd do without you.” you smiled softly and ran your fingers through his hair. “i love you too, gunwook. you don't have to apologize for feeling emotional, it's okay.” gunwook took a deep breath and pulled back slightly, gazing into your eyes. “i know, i just... i want you to know how much you mean to me. you're everything to me.” you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his soft, plush lips. "i know, gunwook. and i feel the same way about you."

한 yujin.

you and yujin were sitting at the desk in his bedroom, working on your homework assignments. you had been studying for hours and were both feeling exhausted. as you were writing something down, yujin leaned his head on your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh. you looked at him with concern. “are you okay, yujin?” yujin looked up at you with a small smile. “i'm fine, just tired.” you placed your hand on his back and rubbed it gently. “do you want to take a break?” yujin shook his head. “no, we need to finish this first.” you nodded in understanding but noticed yujin was getting more and more restless as the minutes passed. suddenly, he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck. “yujin, what are you doing?” you asked with a surprised look on your face. “i just need to be close to you,” yujin mumbled, his grip tightening. you could feel his body shaking slightly, and you knew something was wrong. “what's going on? talk to me, yujin.” “i don't know,” yujin admitted. “i just feel so overwhelmed and stressed out. And being close to you makes me feel better.” you held him close, rubbing his back as he clung to you. “it's okay, yujin. I'm here for you. we'll get through this together.”

gvnvks © 2023

[luveline]

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary it's a hot summer in hawkins and you're bored. plus, your best friend eddie is very distracting. it was inevitable, really, that you'd end up messing around [4.6k]

warnings smut, 18+ only please, fem!reader, p in v sex, oral both receiving, awkward giggly best friend sex <3, fluff, clueless idiots, weird stains etc, eddie being hot and soft, less awkward more giggly part 2

𓆩❤︎𓆪

The midsummer sun toasts the back of your neck as you walk through the trailer park. By the time you're knocking at Eddie's door you feel frazzled by the heat, ducking under his arm and into the shade gratefully when he swings open the door.

"Hey, babe," your best friend says, a hint of derision in his tone.

"Yeah, hi," you say.

You beeline past the couch to the fridge, kicking open the stiff freezer door for something cold to hold to your cheek. "It's, like, a thousand degrees outside," you say, garden peas soothing your sweaty forehead.

"It wasn't much better in here 'til I opened all the windows," he agrees. "If you told me you were coming I would've picked you up."

You raise your eyebrows, laughing. "Yeah, I'm never getting in that thing again."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You almost killed us-"

"I jumped a curb," he cuts you off, waving his hand at you. "You're ridiculous."

Eddie rolls his eyes at you and you roll yours harder, following him down the narrow space into his bedroom. Even the window thrown open can't hide the smell of pot and cheap beer, though you're pleased to see he's changed his sheets. You sit down carefully, worried to disturb the notebook on his bed.

"What were you upto?" you ask, lying back.

Eddie stretches. One arm behind his back and the other pushing his elbow down, a loud click echos. His shirt rides up, a snaking snail trail of dark hair exposed.

You don't shy from looking though you won't ogle him. Your best friend has always been hot in the grungey way he is, long hair and big eyes, cool clothes, tattoos and Marlboro's and everything that had ostracised him from your peers.

You'd ended up friends because you hadn't always been attractive. In fact, you'd suffered through an awkward stage for the entirety of high school, and only now two years after your graduation do you feel any type of hot or desirable. Eddie, soft-hearted, loser weirdo Eddie has never been anything but ridiculously kind to you.

You pull up your jeans where they're slipping down, tugging your shirt from your lightly perspiring chest with a dramatic huff to fan yourself.

"I was trying to make music," he says with usual bravado, throwing himself down behind the composition book. He tucks the pen between its curling pages and shoves it across the nightstand. "But it wasn't going anywhere."

"No?" you ask, moaning under your breath as you move the frozen peas to your chest.

Eddie clears his throat. "Nah. Now you're here, anyway. Like you knew I was bored to tears."

"I'm psychic," you agree.

"Major. Summer is so fucking boring," he says.

You smile at him, turning on your cheek to take in his casual attire, his grey sweatpants and his too short shirt. He's missing his rings but his chains remain, dull silver against his white skin.

"You could study," you say lightly. "You know. Actually graduate."

Eddie smiles at you sweetly. You glare at his condescension. "They're making me do the year again, therfore making me take the classes again. I don't need to study."

You want to laugh. He does need to study, he does, but you know the difficulty doesn't lie in laziness or anything, he just has a difficult time concentrating. Every year you offer to informally tutor him and every year he declines, but not this year. You're gonna get him through high school if it's the last thing you do. And it might be, with this heat.

"We are gonna study," you say sternly. "Not today, though."

"Not today," he agrees, laughing.

He crosses his arms, hands hugging his biceps as he leans towards you. You watch his actions carefully though he's not planning any mischief, only looking down at you.

"Your eyes are all smudged up," he says.

You sigh with frustration and loll your head back. "It's 'cos it's so hot. I'm gonna freshen up," you say, standing, offering him your defrosting bag of peas.

He's not looking at the peas, you realise, but your chest. You follow his gaze, watching as a cold rivulet of melted ice runs between the valley of your boobs.

You don't comment on his watching as you leave the room. You don't really care if he looks at you like that because you know he doesn't mean anything disrespectful by it, the way your eyes tend to drift to his hands, his wrists and their stark green veins. Some things are distracting.

You clean up in the bathroom, your face, your sweaty body, sniffling from the heat. You can't stay in there long.

"It's a fucking sauna in there," you say as you emerge.

Eddie has changed positions, his legs crossed with a pillow in his lap, the stereo remote in his hands. His bracelet has fallen down from his wrist, stopped at the curve of his forearm.

You look away. Distracting, you think.

He gestures at the window, wide open, curtains blowing in the breeze. "That's how hot it was when I woke up."

You settle down next to him against the wall, box springs groaning beneath you. This close you can smell his green apple shampoo.

"You're not wearing any cologne?" you ask.

He smiles smugly. "You're sniffing me."

"You smell like shampoo," you say instead of denying it.

"Showered this morning."

You gasp and cover your mouth with your hand. "No fucking way."

"Get fucked, Y/N," he says, chuckling.

Maybe it's on your mind. Maybe it's the sheer level of comfort you feel with him, you don't know, but you fall silent at his words and drop your head into his shoulder. You spend long minutes at his side, listening to his humming, wondering what you're going to do all summer. You make a questioning sound.

He pulls it out from under you and only puts it back when you don't laugh. "What?"

You look up at him and then quickly look back down.

"What does that look mean?"

You don't decide what you're going to say so much as you feel it, the words escaping you before you can think any better of it. "Do you want to have sex?"

Eddie laughs, a nervous lilt of sound that bubbles up and hurts your feelings. You pick at your nails and he leaps to ask, "What? You're serious?"

"It's fine if you don't want to."

He waits for you to say more. When you don't, he raises his eyebrows at you. "I never said that."

You decide to be cool about it, shrugging your shoulders like this is an obvious, regular suggestion. "We're both bored. I don't know. It could be fun."

"Are you sure that's something you want?"

"You're hot."

"Thank you," he says sincerely, "but what I mean is, is that something you think we can deal with? It changes our whole dynamic." His words have that similar too-casual tone, the both of you trying to be cool.

"Doesn't have to," you argue with little heat, looking up at him from his shoulder with wide eyes.

"You don't think so?" he asks. His voice is quieter now, and he's looking down at you with a heat that quickly gives you butterflies.

"No," you say under your breath. You lick your lips and say, slightly louder, "No. It can just be fun. If it sucks we'll never do it again, and you can stop wondering what my tits look like."

"I don't wonder about that," he denies quickly, guiltily, giving himself away when his eyes flick down to your chest and dart straight back up.

"So you don't want to find out?"

He bites his lip. You wait, tilting your head just slightly and giving him your best approximation of the doe eyes girls do in movies. "It's fine if you don't want to, Eddie," you say honestly.

"I do want to."

"Yeah?"

"If it's just for fun, right? What else is there to do?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders.

You grin. This is how you find yourself kneeling in the middle of his bed as Eddie pulls the curtains closed and locks his door, your eyes following the dark mess of his curls as he tucks them behind his ears, the way his arms shift as he turns the light off now the sunlight's hidden. He pauses before he turns to you, hand held to the light switch.

You start to take your shirt off. He hears the noise and spins on his heel. Warm, worn shirt in hand, you try not to show how nervous you are as your chest settles, bared in your bra alone.

Eddie blinks. You laugh nervously and he laughs back, wavering at the end of his bed.

"You're fucking pretty," he says.

"Don't lie," you say, though you know he feels like that's true, an earnestness in his voice that shoots sparks straight down to your core. You move off of your calves and squirm onto your back. "Help me take these off," you say. Before I lose my nerve.

Eddie pulls your legs towards him with surprising strength, knocking your hands away from where they're struggling with the button on your jeans. You can't help the sound you make, a hiccup of air has he undoes the button. His fingers are warm at your waist and as they drag down your hips. You arch your back so he can work them over your thighs, one socked foot pressed to his chest. You give him a smug look, as if to say, yeah, you do that.

Ever amused with you he huffs a laugh and pulls your jeans off in one big sweep, discarding them in a  crumpled heap on the ground.

You're surprised at the lack of talking between you and aim to rectify it as he climbs onto the mattress and crawls up between your legs like he knows what he's doing, pulling your thighs over his.

"This is so weird," you say. "Right? This is weird."

His hands burn where they're spread over your thighs. "It's not that weird. Do you not want to anymore? We can stop."

"No, I mean. I don't know. Maybe it's 'cos you're still dressed."

"If you want me to take my clothes off, babe, you can just ask," he drawls, smirking.

You hold your breath as he pulls his shirt over his back, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest broken up by a small crop of dark hair that leads down past his naval and disappears into his sweatpants.

His chain bobs between you as he moves to hover on top of you, a great deal of space between your chests.

"Are we kissing?" he asks.

"Do you want to kiss me?" you ask him. He doesn't answer so you shake your head. "Maybe we shouldn't. It's romantic."

He laughs in a way you don't fully understand, his hands suddenly on your waist and pushing up over your ribs to the edge of your bra, a thin silken thing that contrasts your skin nicely. Your nipples are hard, peaking through the fabric. You can't find it in yourself to be embarrassed as he brings his hand up.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yeah," you say, waiting, your body aflame in anticipation of his touch.

He brushes the pad of his thumb over your nipple and grins when you hiss in a breath, pulling back so he can see the entirety of your chest as he takes your breasts into his big palms and massages them gently.

"Pretty underwear," he says.

"Thank you," you say, feeling small under his gaze and his ministrations.

Eddie's eyes meet yours, burned honey brown. "Is the kissing rule extended to everywhere, or just lips?"

"Do what you want, Eds."

He does. He kisses the curve of your breast and you start to feel dizzy as his teeth appear, scratching over your skin lightly. He tugs the cup down and kisses a trail to your nipple, taking the bead of it into his mouth. You push the hair from his eyes and gasp at the sensation, a riveting strike of pleasure that warms you up from the inside out.

Eddie pulls away just as quickly and mouths kisses around the damp circle, plastering pecks over the small embeddings of his teeth.

His hands work under your back and fiddle with the clasp of your bra. You hold in a comment about his clumsy fingering though you giggle to yourself.

"What's funny?" he asks in a murmur, dropping your bra unceremoniously off the side of the bed.

"Nuthin'," you sing-song.

He doesn't believe you, hands pressing over the naked expanse of your chest with a firm pressure, messing with your boobs as he goes. He covers them with two hands and brings them together.

"Having fun?"

"Always with you," he says, saccharine sweet.

His teasing sarcasm is familiar and puts you at ease, wiggling down into his squishy bedsheets with a curious look on your face.

He gets bored pretty quickly, sitting up, hands fast as he slips his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and makes to pull them off. You throw your hand out and he stops.

"Maybe I can leave them on?" you ask.

He purses his lips, looking disappointed but accepting. "Sure, if you want to stop."

"No, I don't. Just. I don't know," you refuse to say you're shy about how you look. "Can't you just pull them to the side?"

"Sure. I don't care if you haven't shaved or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

More the general idea of your cunt on display. It feels nerve-racking. "Thanks."

He softens. "Baby, don't say thanks. We said for fun, right? Doesn't matter how we do it. I want you to enjoy yourself." He sees your knowing smile and amends, "I want for both of us to enjoy it. Keep the underwear. I can take mine off though, right?"

You grin at his cheeky tone. "Go for it, hotshot."

He turns the music up before he does, which is really the last straw. How loud does he think it's going to get? Your heart beats in your chest, fast as a mouse's as he pulls down his sweatpants and exposes his boxers.

You can see the shape of him already through the fabric.

He palms his cock and reaches for your chest, massaging one of your boobs as he does. You're sick of being touched without touching, struggling up into a sitting position. "Can I…?"

He nods, looking about as nervous as you'd felt when he pulled down your bra.

Your hand trembles imperceptibly as you take his cock into your hands, stroking its length through material. You're giggling as you do, the situation alien and tummy churning. He's both harder and softer than you expected, though you feel a certain rigidness begin to grow at your touch.

You shuffle backwards and bend at the waist, careful and gentle as you pull down his boxers. His cock springs free, crowned in a trim patch of dark, curled hair, going to kiss his shaft when Eddie pushes your shoulder.

"You don't have to," he says.

You frown quizzically. "I want to. This is half the fun, right?"

He looks a little dazed as you move in, his hand moving from your shoulder to your neck as you kiss the side of his length. He twitches in your hold.

You spit into your hand and it's embarrassing. You expect Eddie to laugh and he doesn't, something unreadable on his face when you look up. His lip between his teeth, his brows furrowed, he looks handsome and dark. You pump his cock, kissing at the shaft as you go, happy when his breathing hikes and his hands find your hair. Heat grows between your legs, the very beginning of wetness.

Eddie doesn't let you play for very long. "Fuck, maybe you shouldn't. Uh. I don't think I'll last," he adds.

You plant a last kiss to the side of his head and pull away. "Sorry."

"God, don't be," he says. You've never heard him like this. So rough.

"How do we do this? Do I just…?" you flop down on your back, smiling with teeth, nervous and embarrassed and excited, super excited.

"If that's how you like it."

Awkwardness disarmed by wanting, Eddie moves into the gap between your legs and spreads them, the flat of his palm against your cunt without any dithering. "Are you ready?"

"I don't know."

"Want me to play with you?" he asks.

You feel conflicted.

He holds his cock against the stretch of his midriff and shakes his head at you. "It's okay, princess."

Princess. "Maybe you can… can play with me as you go," you suggest hopefully, coquettish.

He rubs his thumb over the bump of your clit, peering down at your covered cunt almost assessingly. His thumb dips, fingers pulling cautiously at damp fabric until you're on show.

"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, can I touch you?" And he's already touching you but to be asked is nice, and when you nod he rubs the wet circle of your entrance with two fingertips, spreading that little bit of wetness around.

He begins to push in. Your eyes flick from his actions to his face, chest heaving as he mouths, "Fuck," and palms at his throbbing cock. "You're warm."

You flush from head to toe and squirm as he works you open, spreading and curling his digits inside you, working slickness out. You're tight with nerves but slowly, slowly relaxing.

"Can we fuck now?" you ask. You're rushing through the steps because you're nervous and Eddie can't seem to decide whether he should let you, conflict clear as day in the way he presses his lips together.

"I have lube," he says, too loud.

You choke on a laugh. "You do?"

"Yeah, just," he scrambles off of the bed and pulls a tube of gel from his bedside table. And of course he fucking does, Eddie's the same motherfucker who nails handcuffs to the wall. "You wanna try it?"

He's pulled out a condom at the same time.

"Yeah," you say, smiling enough to make your cheeks ache. Eddie's answering grin is brilliant.

He rips the condom open with his teeth and you watch as he rolls it on, enchanted, breathing shallow.

His hands rub at your thighs as he spreads your half-hidden cunt open.

"I'll go slow," he says.

You nod. He squeezes a very generous amount of lube over his cock and then thinks twice, spreading it with his fingers around the shaft and then over your entrance. It contracts with the cold. Eddie groans with his lips slammed shut and moves in closer, rubbing the head of his cock up your cunt. The first contact is overwhelming.

You reach for his forearm and grip hard.

"Okay?" he asks, pausing.

"It's a mess, right? Do you have a towel or something?"

He seems endeared by your worrying, grabbing your ankles in one hand and lifting your hips from the bed to shove his discarded shirt under your weeping slit. You feel your vision go rose coloured at his small display of strength, worse when he takes a hold of your ankles in sticky fingers and encourages them over his shoulders.

He bends over you, his chain dangling between you.

The head of his cock bumps into your entrance. He readjusts, pushing with minimal pressure. Your ass pressed to his hot thighs, your ankles to his hard shoulders, your hands searching for something to hold. Eddie twines your fingers and holds your joined hands to your hip.

"You're so fucking hot," he says, grinning saliciously. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? Ready?"

His enthusiasm is catching, a grin turning up the corners of your lips as he presses in. He stretches you out slowly, fingers flexing around your hand and the other holding you in place as he takes shallow, quick thrusts.

Lube in play, your nerves are hardly a problem and soon the only feelings are pleasure, the dizzying, goosebump-prompting feeling of being split open around him and the warmth of being this close to him clouding you up. You're surprised at how much you want to make sounds, your fast inhales slowly turning to mewling moans. Eddie makes less noise but his enjoyment is obvious, an amorous screwing to his brows and lips.

"Fuck," he groans, the word dragging with his cock, head probing emphatically at your walls.

You gasp as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush with your cunt. "Fuck," he says again. "Baby, your pussy's s'fucking tight. How's that feel? Feel good?" Then, at your shy smile, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Eds."

Your thighs burn as he pushes in. Attentive at your clit, Eddie works you into a steady tizzy, thrusting slow and deep and moulding, looking prettier than he has any right to look as he pushes tight circles into your swollen clit.

You can't help flashing between two minds. Oh my god, I'm fucking Eddie. And oh my god, I'm fucking Eddie. Lovely, handsome, ridiculous Eddie, best friend since middle school and fellow long-term loser, nicest boy you've ever met, and why do his eyes look so big? He's so close the tops of your thighs are brushing your abdomen. You can smell that green apple tang under sex, his skin. His chain tickles you as he closes in and you think he's going to kiss you, really truly kiss you, but his face ducks down, his nose and lips on your neck.

Anywhere but the lips, you'd agreed, and now he's kissing your neck. Scraping bites and loving, sloven mouthing. A spread of damp half moons over the column of your throat, working his way up to the sweet spot below your ear.

His hips snap into yours harder than they had been and you whimper.

"Again," you demand, arms wrapped around the cape of his back, his shoulder blades moving under your hands.

"Whatever you want, princess," he promises, the pet name bathed in ire.

Snapping again, hips rolling, pleasure made all the worse by his panting into your skin and his kisses, though they grow sparse as time stretches. You feel his hips begin to flag, his fucking sloppy. The circles on your clit become loose.

"Eddie," you whisper. His pelvis is grinding hard into yours, an aching painful pleasure as he works empathically into your spongey walls.

"How's that feel? Fucking full of me, aren't you?" he asks.

"Feels good, it-" you gasp as he pulls out and strikes in, the head of his cock going deep. You feel a rush of heat behind your eyes almost close to tears as he finds somewhere you didn't know he could find.

"What was that?" he asks, laughing, teasing. "Did you hear that sound you just made?"

One of your hands falls down his back, pulling, hoping to spur him into a crueler rhythm. "Eddie, it's so deep."

Something about your wet eyes, your pleading tone really gets him. A wave of shuddering moves over his skin and he pulls you by the shoulders into his chest, mouth at your neck muttering curses. You cry out as he hits your sweet spot again, merciless, hardly recovered from one thrust when you're suffering another. You're a wet mess of whimpering, his name and nothing else on your lips.

"I'm…" He takes a deep breath, sounding apologetic. "I'm close, babe, I'm," he cuts himself, slowing his movements.

"It's okay, it's okay." You want to say something sexy like a bombshell would but all you can do is squeeze your walls around his cock and pull his hair from his neck and whisper, "You can cum. Please."

"Shit," he moans, hands tight on your hips, rocking you against his rutting cock until he's cumming. You'd pay more than you should for the sound on tape.

His grip on your hips is bruising as he sits up. "Fuck," he says, voice coloured with good humour. You laugh at his laughing, the two of you giggling and breathing hard. He lets go of your hips, stroking his hand against the markings left behind.

"Babe, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asks, eyes shooting upto yours.

You're failing to hide an amorous smile, breathing hard. "No, you didn't hurt me," you say fondly.

"Shit."

He pulls your legs off of his shoulders and they ache as he folds them up, resting his chin on your knees and pulling the dampened hair away from his sweaty forehead.

"You have the mouth of a sailor, Eddie."

He rubs his cheek against your kneecap. "Can you blame me? Sweetest pussy I've ever fucking seen-"

"You've barely seen it!"

"Fucked, then," he amends.

His hands are like silk as he follows down your thighs and spreads them open. You cover the flesh of your tummy with your hands as he pulls out and tugs the condom off of his softening dick. He ties it off, aiming for the trash can in the corner and missing.

You cringe. "Eds."

"I'll get it later," he says distractedly, staring down at the wet mess of your panties. "Babe, you've seen the jewels. Can we please have these off and I'll take care of you?"

Your legs close as you slide your knee against your thigh coyly. "Care sounds like I'm sick."

"You are sick. Sick body, sick smile, sick little sounds," he teases. "Sick cunt."

You wrinkle your nose and glare at him, giggling as he pulls your legs back open and his fingers dig under your waistband again.

"Don't fucking swear," you scold.

"Please?" he asks, ignoring your admonishment.

His hands are paused and patient. Your chest rises as you inhale, falls as you let it out slowly.

"Okay. Yeah. It's only fair."

Your bravado pleases him endlessly. "Attagirl," he says, pulling your panties down until they hang off of one ankle. You wiggle your foot to make them slide past your sock, Eddie too distracted by your bare centre.

"You're a total jerk for hiding this from me," he says, the flat of his palm smoothing down the edge of your cunt, his thumb pulling your entrance open just slightly. "You think I wonder about your boobs? I fucking did, but your pussy?"

You flush white hot at his words. "Does it… meet your expectations?"

He bursts into boyish laughter between your legs until you're giggling too, the giggles quickly tapering into breathlessness as his lips touch your skin. Close-lipped kisses up the inside of your thigh until he's loving on your cunt. He rubs at your entrance before easing you open, middle and ring finger pushing in with his wrist turned up as he suckles your clit. You reach for his hair, scratching his scalp gently as you scrape messy curls from his face.

He makes up for any inaccuracy with ardency. You twitch beneath him, hips rolling in an attempt to draw him impossibly closer.

"I got you," he murmurs into your sticky skin. He nibbles lightly at your clit, pulls until it slips from between his lips. "Wanna feel you cum around my fingers."

You seize up, thighs tightening. "Eds-"

He shushes you, three quick sh sh sh's that make you wanna pinch him. His pinky and index finger slide against the wet skin between your cunt and thighs as he finger fucks you, curving into your sweet spot as his mouth works you over. You're pent up from the fuck and he knows what he's doing, and you can't help pulling his hair as you cum around his fingers, clamping down hard.

He plays a little longer but eases up when you cry out, the bottom of his face shining with dampness as he pulls away.

He wipes the mess away with the back of his hand. "You taste sweet. But that might've been the lube."

You splutter around a breathless laugh and tug him on top of you, bodies pressed together and sweaty. His weight is nice.

"That was fun, right?" he asks, hands at your neck, elbows digging into your naked chest as his face hovers above yours. If you didn't know him as well as you did you'd miss the tiny silver of worry.

"So fun. I have amazing ideas," you agree, panting.

"Amazing."

There's a gap of silence where you catch your breath and Eddie watches.

"How's the dynamic? Changed?" he asks lightly, fingers tapping over your collar like he's playing a song.

"Irrevocably."

You wrap one of his curls around your finger and indulge yourself, eye to eye, lips an inch apart.

"Do you wanna do it again?" he asks.

You pretend to think about it. "Yeah."

He gives you that perfect puppy dog smile and kisses your cheek, a wet, smacking thing as he climbs off of you and pulls you into his lap. You haven't quite decided, but you think you might let him kiss you on the mouth if he wanted to.

-

they get better at fucking I swear

[realm-of-rosie]

💭 ways to develop productivity !!!

i. haikyuu [ tsukishima, kenma, bokuto and how they distract / motivate you ]

ii. fluff + scenarios / headcanons

iii. blog rules | masterlist

iv. ah studying, what i should be doing but i am instead fantasizing about studying. my quality time loving ass loved this HAHAHA also pretend i didnt use fUlL InTentIoN twice ok

[ tsukishima kei ]

"try again,"

"no thank you,"

"shrimpy - "

"don't shrimpy me kei!"

"i will shrimpy you as much as i want until you answer the question,"

"but i don't know anymore," you whine, "all the words and numbers are merging together in my head, i can't tell which is which anymore,"

"you know this one," kei insists, grabbing your face in his hand and smushing your cheeks together, "remember the mnemonic you made?"

he releases your face before reading the question again and at your blank expression, kei sighs, taking his glasses off to stare at you, eye to eye.

"one kiss for every right answer,"

"...what?" you gawk.

"if you get it right, i'll give you a kiss,"

you squint suspicously at your boyfriend and he casually wipes his glasses before putting them on, "would you really?"

"come find out," his voice is teasing and singsong in reply, waving the flash cards in front of you tauntingly, "i'll even ask a new question so you get a fresh start,"

"deal!" you stick your pink out, butterflies fluttering in your stomach when his own links with yours, "just know that i will be so disappointed if you end up lying to me,"

"of course not, never to you," with a clear of his throat another question comes - one you answered with ease at the prospect of a reward.

"see?" kei smirks, "you totally have this,"

"is that all?" you raise your eyebrow, laughing when he pulls you into his arms to press a soft kiss on your lips, his fingers holding you by the chin.

you pull away first to catch a breath, and when you chase his lips again, he tuts.

"the deal was one kiss," he whispers cockily while tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, "that was already one,"

[ kozume kenma ]

"ken, come on, i have to study," you sigh in half amusement, half exasperation because lord did you love your boyfriend but at this moment you wondered if murdering him was worth going to jail for x amount of years.

"so study?" he replies with a nonchalant tone, the clicking of the keys on his switch mixing with the music playing from your headphones.

"you're resting on my lap," you run your fingers through kenma's hair and you swear that almost purred in approval. you chuckle at that thought.

"and?"

"i don't have your concentrating skills,"

"and?"

you give him a deadpan look.

"oh, am i distracting you?"

"so help me god, i will smack that smirk off of your face if you don't get off of my lap,"

"alright, alright," he mumbles grumpily, curling up by himself in the corner of your bed still tapping away at his switch.

you, on the other hand, had slipped your headphones back on with the full intention to make it up to him once the project absorbing every ounce of your attention had finished, leaving yourself completely unaware of anything an everything happening in the room. fully immersed in the document in front of you, you began to work, slowly but surely slipping into an altered state of consciousness, and for a while, you were stuck in your work mindset.

well, that was before kenma snuck (there was actually no sneaking, you just didn't notice him move) into the nook in your desk beside your legs, giving you a mini heart attack when he suddenly leaned on your thigh.

you sigh, kissing your fingertips and passing it to him, in a way, by pressing them against the top of his head and patting him affectionately.

"just a little longer, ok? i promise,"

"take your time," kenma looks up at you with his ever observant cat-like eyes, "i just want to be close to you,"

"i guess i can't say no to you now," you tease, gently pinching his cheek and stroking it when he began to pout.

kenma leans into your touch and you tell yourself:

you totally could finish typing this with one hand.

[ bokuto koutaro ]

"one kiss,"

"bo-" you start to laugh uncontrollably when you lift your head to look at your boyfriend - with the full intention to remind him that you had 5 minutes left until your next break - and the poor little pet the two of you shared that he involved in his quest to distract you.

"we've both been very lonely," bokuto sighs, smushing his face against the small animal he held up and you coo at the expression it had. whether it was displeasure or otherwise, you weren't even sure.

"she's frowning at you," you tease bokuto, glancing back at the open document on your screen and frowning at the red line under one of the words on the word doc, immediately correcting the word.

"she is not!" bokuto gasps, facing your poor pet and kissing its little face, "see?"

there's a moment of silence as you reread the body of your speech, eyebrows furrowing together as you go over one line in particular.

"...you're not looking,"

"hm?" you glance at bokuto then back at the screen before back at your boyfriend's frowny face and droopy hair, reaching out to run your hand through his hair with guilt pooling in your gut, "i'm sorry love, i promise, just a few more minutes-"

you are interrupted by the beeping of your alarm, signaling that it was time for the 30-minute break between your study hours and bokuto perks up immediately, laying your pet in the small play pen you had in your work room at pulling your out of your seat, not allowing you even a second to protest before he hugs you tightly and twirls you around in a circle.

"you're free at last!"

[courtingchaos]

Untitled No. 1

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Freak Like Me

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), shaving (legs and other sensitive areas).

Summary: Eddie offers you the full spa treatment.

A/N: I gotta say I don’t even know where I was going with this, other than the fact that I think dudes who help shave legs are entirely too hot and should be studied. Anyways, welcome to another look into what I think is hot and it’s probably not. 🙃 enjoy.

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Whatcha doing?” Eddie asks quietly. You’d heard the click of the lock before he’d leaned in. Perched on the side of the tub, one leg on the ledge and the other swishing the foggy water slowly.

“Shaving my legs.”

“Mmm.”

“You miss me?”

“I had a joke to tell you and then forgot it when I opened the door.” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe. “You tend to have that effect on me.”

You click your tongue at him and drop your propped up leg so you straddle the side of the tub.

“You can sit in here if you want.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding but if you hang out too long I might make you work for your view.”

And that’s how you end up crowded in your now drained tub, Eddie between your legs after only ten minutes of watching you run your razor over your knee.

“See, you were worried for nothing!” His hand glides over your smooth skin, rough calluses scratching on the curves of your leg. “Not one knick. I shave my face every day, no issues.” He gestures to his chin with your pink razor, rolling his eyes up at you.

“Legs are much different from faces. I’ve got a streak going too, didn’t want you to fuck that up.”

He just hums at you, still inspecting his work. He’d been mildly taken aback when you’d handed him the cheap bottle of conditioner when he’d settled into the tub with you.

‘Conditioner?’

‘Yeah. The shit you’re supposed to use on your hair?’

Now his tune is a little different when he feels how soft your leg feels. You’d stopped him going too far up your thigh, one you didn’t want to get out of your shorts, and two it didn’t really matter. He never complained about it and it’s not like anyone else was going to be seeing your extreme upper thigh anytime soon.

Eddie rocks forward to readjust so he can start on your other leg. He holds your foot up so you can brace it at the base of the faucet and so he can drape his arm over your thigh, holding you steady so he doesn’t cut you. The radio he’d left on in the living room gently floats music down the short hallway and into the bathroom where the quiet ‘shlick’ of the razor glides across your shin. He’s careful around your ankle, runs his fingers over the delicate bone to feel for any rogue hairs. His tongue pokes out of his mouth when he gets to your knee and he really concentrates on not cutting you. A few short swipes and he holds his hands out to the side and gasps delightfully.

“Magic hands, baby!”

“You didn’t have to shave my kneecap to tell me that.” You laugh at him. He just shoots you a playful sneer and continues on to the back of your knee. The way he moves his hands on you to bend your leg the way he wants it makes your breath catch a little. A speeding up pulse and a small tickle on the back of your neck make you want to slide down the tub a little more so you can press up against him. He hasn’t so much as tried to make a move on you since doing this and it’s just made you all the more aware of his presence. His soft touch and breaths that ghost over your dewy skin, the gentle way he moves you around so he can do this thing for you.

You’re too busy making heart eyes at him to notice him finishing up. His wandering hand inching along the hem of your cotton shorts.

“You sure I can’t interest you in a full service salon visit today?” His eyebrows dance under his bangs. You laugh and slap his shoulder.

“Do you care suddenly?”

“No! I’m just…this is kind of fun.” He smiles at you, hands resting on your thigh. “And also if I can convince you to take your shorts off I consider it a win.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you snap your fingers and make a whooshing sound, “panties, magically gone.”

“Oh, no shit?” He tosses the razor over the side of the tub and pulls at the elastic band of your shorts, overacting his look into them. It turns into a game of grabbing whatever skin he can find on you until you call mercy when he starts tickling you. It ends with both of you out of breath and Eddie’s hand shoved up the leg of your shorts, fingers dug into the meat of your ass.

“You gonna let me go?”

“Only if you show me how you magicked your panties off, I haven’t learned that cantrip yet.”

“When are you gonna let me shave your legs again?” He asks this in the middle of the pasta aisle like he’s asking what brand of angle hair you want.

“Is this a thing for you now?” You don’t even look over at him when you drop a few boxes in the cart. Eddie had been a little too well behaved since walking through the doors of the grocery store and you start to wonder if he’s been leading up to this question.

“I don’t know.” A shrug you catch out of the corner of your eye. “It was kind of fun. I mean, when I let you shave my face that one time you had fun right?”

You finally look at him, your own goofy smile matching his. “Yeah it was.” You edge around the cart so you can lower your voice. “I mean the rest of the night was pretty fun too.”

Eddie nods his head at you while you get closer, hands sliding between his jacket and shirt, your endless giggles peppered between your recounting of how soft his face was between your thighs. Only to be pulled apart when a squeaky wheeled cart makes you remember where you are.

In the self checkout he stands close behind you while he waits for his card to go through.

“You know, if you liked how soft my face was, imagine if you let me shave everything.” He punctuates his statement with a flick of your necklace and you can see the gap in his teeth when he smiles at you.

“Everything?”

“What, you don’t trust me?” The card reader beeps at him but he won’t turn away until you answer him.

“Of course I do, now take the card out everyone is staring.”

He snaps it out of the machine and helps you pile the bags back into the cart, a self satisfied smirk on his face. “Baby you’re gonna have the smoothest skin you’ve ever had.”

You can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm, even if it is tinged with a little too much ego.

“You know if you wanted me hairless you could have just told me, we didn’t have to go through all of this.”

He’s only mildly blocking your view of the TV while he sits on the foot of the bed, your leg propped up on this thigh.

“This has nothing to do with that, I love you however you feel most comfortable.” His thumb rubs along your ankle bone in search of fine hairs he may have missed. “We’ve had this discussion before.” He sniffs, a dismissal of your sarcasm.

“Then why are you so hellbent on shaving my pubes? What did they ever do to you?” You point a finger at the back of his head, mock accusation tinging your voice. Eddie doesn’t need to turn around to know what you’re doing, just huffs laughter at you and continues his work up your calf.

“I don’t have to, if you’d rather not.” He glides the razor over your knee expertly while the sounds of the Enterprise getting shot at murmur in front of him.

“No, I didn’t say that.”

He shifts so he can get at your thigh, one big palm gliding up the inside, fingertips just barely grazing your underwear. It’s deliberate, especially when he grins but doesn’t catch your eye, something to entice you to play along.

Like you’d stop now.

He swishes the razor in the bowl of warm water he brought in with him and puts a dab more of the coconut gel you bought for this specifically; less mess on your bedding. Honestly this whole thing is mostly attractive due to his concentration, the same pull of his eyebrows he has when he’s building a map or writing lore. It’s the way he looks at a newly built engine block when he’s been the only one to put hands on it.

“Roll over.”

You oblige him even when he gives your ass a fast swat before he works on the backs of your thighs, the elastic of your underwear snapped every so often when he “just needs to get to a spot”. You’re a whole episode deep before he’s finally finished with your legs and you’re sufficiently wound up, almost overeager to see how he’ll handle this more sensitive job.

“You ready?” He wiggles the razor between his thumb and index finger, eyebrows in tandem with the back and forth. You loose your underwear over the side of the bed and he lays down on his stomach, feet bouncing up in the air behind him.

“You look like you’re about to spill the hottest gossip.”

“Listen, me and my girl got a lot to talk about.” His smirk makes you scoff but his warm hands guiding your legs wider has you feeling feverish. He runs a damp towel over your hair, his breath ghosting over sensitive skin creating goosebumps and his damn hands going featherlight over your mound has your feet curling into his ribs.

“Stop fidgeting or I’m gonna knick you.” He looses that playful glint in his eye when he gets into a groove, slight frown pulling at his lips where his tongue makes an occasional appearance. You almost want to laugh with how concentrated he is but you don’t want to interrupt. He holds skin taut when he lightly runs the razor over a small section, taking his time to be thorough and gentle. You only wince a few times when the razor blades catch on thick hair but he rubs his thumb over each finished part, soothing and searching, looking for a stray hair and never once does he let his finger wander.

You want him to though. You want him to give into that base need that you know is gnawing at his thoughts. Just a few centimeters over and he could run the tip of his middle finger over your swollen bud, effectively rendering you boneless. At this rate it wouldn’t take much at all to get you to cum. Eddie focused and taking such deliberate care of you has your stomach swooping; Yet another simple task that he’s taken to an extreme and made you wonder how you ever got along without him.

“Eddie?” Your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the TV.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“Oh don’t thank me yet.” He uses one of the towels on the bed to softly wipe away errant hair and looks up at you from between your thighs with a smile. “I’m not done.” But he shimmies off the bed and stands to stretch before snatching all the stuff off the comforter and balancing the bowl of water on his way to the bathroom. You take the opportunity to slide your legs together, everything slick and soft especially at the bend of your hips. From the bathroom you can hear water running and before you can wonder what’s keeping him he peeks around the corner to watch you basking in his handiwork.

“Nice isn’t it?”

“I never doubted you.” You feel a little ridiculous in just your t-shirt until you catch the glint in his eyes. “What are you up to?” You tug the hem down to cover yourself but he pounces on the bed before you can create adequate cover.

“Ed!” You yelp when he grabs you quick, already between your knees. His arms loop under your hips and pull you up to balance on your upper back. “What-oh fuck you.” It comes out deep from your chest when he plants his mouth on you without warning, the corners of his lips pulled up in a grin. His tongue zeroes in on your clit and you weren’t kidding about being close. Just the few licks he lays on you has you grasping out to claw at his forearms keeping you against his face, your only balance when you feel that quick build along your spine.

In the haze of your fast descent you notice the lack of the usual burn of his scruff and manage a laugh between your gasps.

“Did you shave for me?”

His eyes sparkle and he nods, nose grazing between parted flesh to make you moan. Eddie is having too much fun holding you hostage against his mouth but you can’t find it in you to complain when you’re pushed over into bliss brought on by his stupidly magical tongue. You pant and cry out, thighs clenched around his head to pitifully grind along his nose. Your grip slackens on his arms and you expect him to let you down but he doesn’t.

That mouth of his that gets him in and out of most trouble keeps working at you even when your thighs start to shake and your heels dig into his back.

“Eddie.” You whine and grab at the bedding under you in an attempt at leverage to pull away. He just doubles down with a laugh huffed through his nose and it’s too much all at once, his tongue an assault on too sensitive skin. His aftershave fills your nose the sweet musk of it making your eyes roll again. His thick fingers dig into the crease of your hips to keep you tilted back.

You chant his name in time with the flicking of his tongue when you rocket towards your second orgasm, minutes after the first. His curls obscure his face along with your legs and you miss his pained expression when you start panting above him.

“Eddie Eddie pleasepleaseplease.” Your fingers dig into his scalp and pull on his hair when he doesn’t slow down and the band of your arousal snaps for the second time. He’s mumbling something, lips still buried in your cunt, tongue still roving and making you squirm. You can make out a “for me-“ and a “too good” before the rush in your ears signals your fall. He runs his tongue down to lap at your entrance and his mouth is too hot. He’s too much and too wet and too everywhere and-

He drops your hips and you bounce on the bed, head still spinning from his mouth. Your shirt is bunched up under your chin and he descends on a nipple while his other hand trails down. Fingers prod at your aching clit before sliding in slowly, the aftershocks still spasming around his thick fingers.

“Ed I can’t-“

“Third time’s the charm, c’mon.” He lets your nipple go so he can rest his chin on your sternum. His dimples seem vicious while he works you toward a third orgasm, pads of his fingers brushing against that almost too tender spot. “It gets easier every time, you know that.” Wet sounds made wetter by bare skin trapped under his palm that he keeps pressed against you.

“Is th-this payback for the collar?” You ask and he laughs at your stuttering.

“Maybe.” He groans along with you when your eyes roll and your back arches. “But I liked that.” A dangerous tint to his teasing. “Do you like this?” Relentless fingers and the heel of his palm give you enough friction to start a fire deep in your belly. The spark is barely lit before is razes through you, turning your back into a tightrope that Eddie balances on, dark eyes locked on your face pulled into pleasure.

“There it is.” He watches you crumble under the tension and he twitches his fingers until he hears that telltale catch in your chest and he eases up, gently removing his hand. He keeps his head on your chest though, the rapid beating of your heart under his ear so he can hear what he does to you. “I got you.” He grabs the back of your knee to drape over his hip and slides his hand up the back of your thigh now slick with sweat. Practically boneless under him you move easy and he gets your wrapped around his overheating frame.

“You okay?” He asks when he hears a gasp from you and looks up to see a tear track down the side of your cheek.

“Oh I’m great.” A weak laugh and a flap of your hand against his hair. “I’m just trying to remember what my tongue does.”

“I can show you if you want.”

“I think you’ve done enough damage tonight.” It’s lighthearted with a small warning, your heaving chest enough of a signal to him that you at least need a breather.

“I don’t know if I’d call it damage.” He lets his hands wander over your dips and curves, soothing motions to bring you back down to earth. “Felt good though didn’t it?”

He watches your lazy smile and your eyes drifting closed, fingers wound up in his hair again. A small nod before you pull him in closer to your chest and he pulls the corner of the sheet up over your legs.

“You falling asleep?”

“No, I’m relaxing.”

“Sure, just resting your eyes?”

“Mhm.”

He can feel your go slack around his neck even while you laugh sleepily at him. “So should I wake you up for round two or…?”

“Surprise me.”

[gtgbabie0]

-Finnick Odair x Victor!reader

{Finnick strives to make you laugh for the first time since you’ve won your games}

Enjoy my lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

Words were a hard thing to get out of you recently, you were so closed off… skittish, almost as if you were afraid of your own voice. Finnick couldn’t blame you in fact there’s not a bone in his body that could ever be mad at your recent behaviour, he understood better than most people.

He watches you with a soft expression as you sit at the kitchen table, losing yourself in a new puzzle. He admires the calm look in your eyes and the way you shift the pieces into the correct places with gentle hands whilst he prepares dinner, his eyes flicking over to you every now and then to keep a close eye on you.

The faint sound of rain pattering against the windows only seems to add to the tranquillity of the evening. Then the silence breaks, and your voice softly reaches his ears, “I’m stumped.” It shocks him a little, it’s evident in the way his eyes widened slightly.

“Stumped?… lemme take a look, honey.” He replies back to you, keeping his voice hushed as he walks over to you resting his palms against the wooden table to lean over you. His gaze flickering over the puzzle, studying the pieces with narrowed, concentrated eyes.

It takes only a second for him to pick the piece you’re looking for, gently snapping it into place with a smirk on his lips. “Oh… thank you.” You whisper softly, looking up at him with a small smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. He leans down to press a kiss on your forehead.

There’s a certain patience in Finnick, never condescending in the way he speaks or looks at you. If anything he’s the glue that holds you together, constantly there to anchor you back to reality whenever your mind drifts further than you can reach.

The memories were the worst part, you seemed to have a difficult time remembering what was real and what was fake… which caused you to forget a lot. Those special moments you shared with Finnick before the games are now tainted with a stain you couldn’t clear off.

Although there are moments where it flickers back slightly like embers of a fire that leaves a tingling warmth across your skin. The smallest things set it off, music for example. Soft notes of a familiar tune echo through the kitchen, there’s a sense of safety within the lyrics.

Finnick knows you remember the song and the moment you shared with him. It’s in the way your eyes glisten with fondness and that ever-so-small smile that begins to crack at the corner of your lips.

The pair of you glance at each other simultaneously as the gentle notes ricochet through the room. Finnick smirks over at you, extending his hand to you with a soft nod of his head. He waits for you to take him up on the opportunity, never forcing your hand.

He watches patiently as the hesitation flickers through your expression and relief washes over his expression as you stand up from the chair, your hand slipping into his slightly rough one.

“Do you remember this song?” He asks with a teasing edge to his tone although his expression soon melts with tenderness as you nod your head shyly and he takes this moment to place his hand against your hip.

Finnick brings you into him before gently swaying you both side from side. “I could never forget.” You whisper back to him and your words only fuel him to hold you closer.

Your shoulders relax and a sigh escapes your lips as you rest your head against Finnicks chest, the scent of sea salt and firewood sits against his skin and lingers within his clothes. It’s homely… warm within his arms, nothing can hurt you and those painful memories of the games take a backseat in your muddled-up mind.

The pair of you continue to sway gently, taking it one note at a time as you let the music carry you both. You feel Finnick’s chest vibrate slightly as he lets out a soft chuckle and before you can even ask why you’re suddenly being spun around, your breath catches in your throat as he pulls you back into him.

His hands fall to your hips and then he hears it, the sweet giggle that you let out and he freezes in place. It’s a sound that sends a familiar warmth blooming within his chest. “I love you.” He whispers, his hands caressing your hips and then up to your waist.

Your smile widens slightly at his words and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him to you closely as he starts to press kisses all over your face. “I love you too.” You giggle in between the ticklish kisses.

The sight makes his heart swell with devotion. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you like this, so at peace and so happy, he makes a silent promise to keep it this way for as long as he possibly can.

[the-offside-rule]

Drivers while their s/o studies

Just a mini series I felt like doing. : )

Charles Leclerc

Charles smiled as he entered the room, holding a tray with snacks and coffee for Y/n who had been sitting at her desk since that morning. "Hello mom cœur, I thought you might need a little pick-me-up while you work." He said, placing the tray on the table. Y/n looked up from her laptop, a grateful smile forming. "Oh what would I do without you?" She said as she held his face and peppered soft kisses onto it as he emptied the tray onto the desk. "Cry, maybe." He joked.

Charles sat down beside her and began eating a protein bar before Y/n continued on typing. "How's it going anyway?" he asked, genuinely interested. "It's a bit overwhelming, but I'll manage. Your snacks will definitely help." She replied, taking a sip of the coffee. Charles chuckled. "I believe in you. I'll leave you to it for a bit, though. I'm going to meet Lorenzo and Arthur in the gym. You know how it is."

Y/n nodde. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be here when you get back." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out. "Take breaks, okay? Don't overwork yourself." He reminded her. "Of course, love. Have fun and give them my best!" As he left, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The small gestures made studying a lot more enjoyable, and she felt lucky to have Charles by her side.

Max Verstappen

Max woke up to an empty bed, the confusion evident on his face. Rubbing his eyes, he ventured into the living room, where he found Y/n engrossed in her laptop. Y/n spotted him from the corner of her eye and smiled at his sleepy face. "Morning, sleepyhead. Slept well?" She teased, looking up from her work. Max chuckled, and walked over to her. "Yeah, until I realized I was all alone." He placed a kiss atop of her head and peered over her shoulder. "What are you up to?"

"Got an assignment to finish, but you can keep me company." She suggested with a smile. Max raised an eyebrow. "Company? I was expecting a romantic morning, not a work session." Y/n laughed, "Well, I can't help it. University." He rolled his eyes. "I told you, you should have just gave in to being a stay-at-home girlfriend and now here we are with you leaving me I'm bed to work." Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke. "Well if you loved me you would sit right here with me and keep me company, like a good temporary stay-at-home boyfriend?" Undeterred, Max decided to make the best of the situation. "Fine, but how about some breakfast first? I'll cook."

As Max prepared breakfast, they bantered back and forth, the kitchen filled with laughter. Sitting down on the sofa with their plates, Max linked his phone to the TV and began watching his race upcoming debrief that Red Bull had sent him. Y/n glanced at the screen every so often, finding it unbelievably distracting and whilst he had to watch it for work, why couldn't he just watch it on his phone?"Mind turning that off? I need to focus." Max pouted playfully. "Aw, come on. It's just background noise." She shook her head, "No, it's distracting. I need to concentrate."

A minor disagreement ensued, but Max, ever the compromiser, reached a resolution. "Fine, wear these," he said, handing her a pair of headphones. "You study, I watch my debrief." Y/n huffed, taking the headphones, "Deal. Just don't complain if I fail my exam because of this." Max grinned. "Deal, as long as you promise we actually so something romantic later on." Y/n grinned and connected her headphones to the laptop and began playing her music.

Lando Norris

Lando was deep into his online stream, enthusiastically commentating on his latest race in the virtual world. Meanwhile, Y/n diligently studied in the living room, trying to concentrate despite the growing noise. At first, it was fine because he only had Max on a voice call and then they started playing the F1 games and inviting drivers, and it all went to chaos.

The usual loudness was just about starting to sound normal until she heard a loud screeching from the streaming room. Y/n finally reached her limit. She threw her laptop to the side and stormed into the streaming room, wearing a bitter expression. Lando turned, smiling before the smile turned into a grim look. He...was...fucked. "Hi babe." He said quietly. "Lando, could you please keep it down a bit? I'm trying to study out here." She said calmly. She didn't want fans making up rumours about an argument.

Lando, still wearing his headset, looked guilty. "I will try, but Max is-" She cut him off. "Lando, you will be quiet. I cannot fail these exams. I just need you to be quiet. Understood?" He nodded. "I'm sorry, babe. I got carried away. I'll tone it down." The serious expression turned to a light hearted smile, before she looked to the computer, smiled and waved to greet the chat, before leaving.

Lando continued on playing, listening to the chaos on the call and not acting up. But the guilt lingered, and he suddenly had to leave the stream momentarily. "Hey, guys? I'll be right back. Just need to grab a drink, I'll be back in a sec. Promise." He announced to his fellow drivers and viewers before leaving the room. He rushed to the kitchen, returning to the living room with a peace offering of snacks and energy drinks for his girlfriend who sat on her bean bag with her study sheets sprawled across the coffee table. She looked up quickly before looking back to her work and continuing on typing. "I'm really sorry, Y/n. Here, I got you some goodies. Let me make it up to you." Lando said, kneeling down beside her and leaving a small plate of biscuits and sweets beside her. She looked between the plate and Lando, seeing the sincerity in his expression before she chuckled, accepting the snacks. "You're lucky you're cute when you're sorry. Just try to keep it down, okay?"

"Okay, I promise." He said, pecking her cheek and running back to the livestream with his can of Monster. Back in the streaming room, Lando continued his broadcast. He scrolled through the chat, noticing a comment from Y/n.

Thanks for the biccies, lovey <3 Good luck with your stream!

His fans erupted in supportive comments, finding the situation adorable. Lando couldn't help but smile, covering his face from how hard he was blushing. "You better leave me some 9f them biscuits, Y/n." Lando said into the camera. "Let's get back to the race, shall we?" The stream continued, with a more considerate Lando and a grateful Y/n watching from the sidelines.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

As the creatures and people of Madrid lay asleep in their beds, Y/n sat on her laptop working away beside her boyfriend who had just come back from a race weekend on the other side of the globe. Carlos stirred in his sleep, as the soft glow of Y/n's laptop pierced the darkness. "What are you doing?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Y/n glanced at him, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Sorry, babe. Got a deadline. Can't sleep." He sighed, and turned his back so he would be able to get even a glimpse of sleep. "Alright, just keep it down, please." He whispered. "Yes sir, Mr Sainz." She yawns, still typing.

In the morning, Carlos awoke to Y/n still typing away in their bed, exhaustion evident in her eyes. She got a lot of work done and had work in three hours. "Morning." He whispered, kissing her hand before sitting up. "Morning. Did you sleep alright?" Y/n asked. "Other than that one time you woke me, yes. Did you sleep at all?" Carlos asked. Y/n shook her head. "You should get some sleep before work. Finish this when you get home, yeah?" Y/n sighed in defeat. She wouldn't be able to go to work if she was this tired. Maybe a two hour sleep wouldn't hurt? " Carlos nodded, taking her laptop, placing it on the bedside table and tucking her into bed, . "You need to rest." He insisted. "I will wake you before work, mi amor." She reassured her, kissing her hair and letting her fall asleep.

When Y/n awoke, she looked out to see that the sun was awfully bright for 8am. Then she turned and saw Carlos walking into the room with a tray of coffee and toast. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked, sitting up. Carlos paused and looked at her. "Breakfast?" He replied in a question. Y/n looked at her phone, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! It's half past 11. I'm so fucking late!" She said. "No you aren't." Carlos replied, placing the tray on his locker. "I had work two hours ago!" She protested.

Carlos shook his head. "I called your boss, said you were sick." Y/n's eyes widened to what he had said. "Why'd you do that?" She asked. "Because you needed it." He replied, pulling the duvet over them and putting his arm around Y/n. "Carlos, I cant-" He cut her off. "Should we watch Berlín? It's meant to be really good." He said, flicking through the Netflix. "Babe. I'm serious. I need to go to work." She said. "And I have said before; you could quit work and I'll take care of you. You won't quit but I am still gonna take care of you. Now stay with me in bed and help me pick a series for us to watch."

She stopped complaining and lay in his arms. "Yeah. Berlín sounds good." She mumbled quietly. "Good, now here's some toast."

George Russell

George had brought Y/n to race weekends before, but this time, she found herself confined to the team's hospitality area, engrossed in her upcoming exams. She looked up to the TV evey so often to see how her boyfriend was doing before turning her attention back to her laptop. Like an angel sent, George decided to check in on her in between sessions, finding her buried in textbooks and notes.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, pressing a kiss onto her head and leaning on the table. Y/n looked up, tired but determined. "Just trying to survive this study session. Well done on topping the session by the way." George grinned. "It's only the second practise. I think we know what strategy we're going for in qualifying though." He chuckled. "Have you eaten?" Y/n thinks for a moment and shakes her head. "You do know, you need to eat too."

She sighed, burying her head in her hands from exhaustion. "I know, I just lost track of time. Can you grab me something?" George smiled. "Of course." He replied, leaving momentarily and heading to the barista bar. He returned moments later with a croissant and a latte, placing them in front of her. "Fuel for the brain." he said with a smile. Y/n looked up at him appreciatively, "You're my hero, Mr Russell. Thank you so much."

"No problem. I know how important these exams are for you." He replied, sitting beside her. As she sipped the latte and nibbled on the croissant, George and her began talking. "Anything I can help with? Maybe a quick break to clear your mind?" Y/n smiled. "You being here is already a huge help. But maybe a motivational speech wouldn't hurt."

"Im not doing motivational speeches." They both burst into laughter, lightening the mood in the cozy hospitality space. George wrapped his arm around Y/n, offering comfort and support. "You're the best distraction," she admitted, leaning into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Lance Stroll

Lance sighed as he opened the door to his bedroom after his return from the gym to find Y/n looking a bit frustrated. He arched a brow as he sipped from his water bottle and decided to approach her, concern evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, babe?" He asked, sitting down beside her. She sighed. "I'm not sure, but I just can't study. Maybe it's just because of how different it is from studying in my office back home." Lance thought for a moment."How about you use my office? It's quiet, and you'll have all the space you need." He suggested. "Oh no, I couldn't." She replied. "No, seriously. I never use it anyway."

Y/n's face lit up with gratitude as Lance led her to his office. The room was filled with shelves displaying Lance's collection of racing helmets and trophies. The large floor-to-ceiling window revealed a breathtaking snowy landscape of their estate. "This is perfect." Y/n whispered, finding the desk facing the wonderous view. Lance smiled, happy to help her. "If you need me just call. I'm just gonna hit the shower." He said, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. "Thank you, babe." She grinned, setting her stuff down. "Anytime." He shot back before leaving and making his way to his bathroom to shower.

Y/n had gotten a lot done since she sat down. The view was a perfect distraction but not too distracting that she couldn't focus. If anything, it was there to just calm her down before getting right back to it. An hour passed, and Lance returned with snacks, finding Y/n engrossed in her studies. "Hey, how are you getting on?" He asked, peering through the door. "Doing good, Lancelot. I am doing good." She smiled, still jotting down some notes. He walked in with a tray of snacks. In between him showering and him walking around the kitchen, he decided Y/n needed to take a break and made up a snack tray to bring her.

"Need a study break?" he asked, handing her a twix. Y/n grinned, "Definitely. Thanks for this, Lance. This office is amazing." Lance chuckled, "Well, it's only fair you get a taste of my world too. Plus, I like having you happy." As they enjoyed their snacks, the conversation turned from how everyone in the house has an office to the trophies and helmets on the walls.

"You know-" Lance began, taking down his Balu trophy from back in 2017. "This one's from my first podium. I was so excited that day." Y/n smiled as she sipped her cola. "I can see why. You've got an impressive collection of trophies, Lancey." He looked at her warmly. "But none of them compare to having my trophy girlfriend. I worked my ass off to even get you on a date." Y/n laughed. "I'm serious! You kept saying no!"

"You should've taken the hint." Y/n replied. "Then who would be sat in this office?" Lance asked. "I don't know. One of those weird models that throw themselves at you, I guess." She joked. "Yeah, but I prefer you." Lance said. There grew a comfortable silence before Lamce stood up, collecting the wrappers off the snacks and putting them back onto the tray. "I guess it's time for you to get back to studying." Lance said. "Thank you for the company." Y/n smiled as Lamce leaned down to give her a kiss. "How about we watch a movie later and order takeout? Sound good?" Lance suggested. Y/n nodded. You really are a dream."

[risuola]

ummm hello! idk how to say this without sounding like a request :)) but I read some of your writings and I really love them 😭🫶 when you have the time and inspiration, or if you want to write something really fluffy and comforting and idk romantic with teen geto? like idk, both reader and geto are studying in jujutsu high, they are best friends and one night reader can't sleep and sneak into geto's room and talk with him about things idk and they end up together.

just if you want. thank you 🙏

SLEEPLESS NIGHT — GN. READER x GETO SUGURU

It was one of those nights that kept you up. You just couldn't fall asleep, no matter how much you tried and the view of your own ceiling began to drive you insane. You decided to pay a visit to your school friend.

cw: pure fluff, both are 18 years old — 1,8k words

a/n: asking me if I want to write fluffy suguru? the answer is yes, always. thank you for the suggestion! also, thank you for the kind words! it means the world to me that you enjoy my writing dear 🖤

You couldn't sleep. It was one of those nights when thoughts kept piling up in your head and you couldn't find any comfort in the softness of your pillows. Listening to music didn't help either, your concentration was off, everything seemed wrong, and as you lay there with your eyes wide open, staring at the dark ceiling, you decided to get up before you completely lost your mind.

Maybe some water would help? Or a snack. Yes, a snack would be great. With that in mind, you pulled a hoodie over your pajamas, the one that you stole from one of your classmates, and headed for the vending machines outside the dorms on tiptoe, careful not to make too much noise. Everything had been dark for hours now, the clock read almost 1am, and the last thing you wanted was to be scolded by Yaga for walking around campus at night. The man had no chill.

"Gotchu," you mumbled, fishing the chocolate bar out of the compartment at the bottom of the machine. On your way back, you noticed the faintest streak of light coming from under the doors of one of the rooms. Suguru's room.

It took you a minute to think, staring blankly at the door. Maybe he was asleep and forgot to turn off the lamp? Or maybe he couldn't sleep, just like you? Both of you had been under a lot of stress lately, and you know from your own experience that if you try to hide your problems during the day, you will definitely suffer at night. So, you approached the door, carefully pressed your ear to the wood, hoping to find out if he was sleeping or not, and finally, you gave in and knocked softly. The quietest hum answered, and then a series of small sounds that led to the doors opening.

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, Suguru's form met your eyes. His hair was down, slightly disheveled, and he wore only shorts. He clearly wasn’t sleeping yet, but probably tried to force himself to doze off.

"Come in," he whispered, pulling you in gently before anyone noticed you weren't in your own room. "Can't sleep?"

"Yeah..." you sighed and followed him to his bed. "You?"

"Same," he motioned for you to get in, and as you slipped under the covers near the wall, he did as well, making sure you had enough blanket and a pillow. It wasn't the first time you sneaked into his room late at night, you'd been in his bed before, but usually the two of you were on top of the sheets, so this was new. You didn't complain though, you're quick to get chilly. He turned off the light so no one would notice your little escape to his room. The darkness was comforting and you were sure if that’s because of his warm presence next to you. Darkness in your own room seemed cold.

"What's bothering you?" he finally asked when you were both comfortably on your backs. The question got you exhaling deeply, melting into the cushioned surroundings, saturated with his scent. The comfort of his room, his bed made you wish it was a place you could come back to every night. You always look forward to any activity that involves Suguru Geto and sometimes you’re lucky to share a mission with him. There is a suffocating feeling of longing inside you that you couldn’t really act upon.

"I don't know, it's just... it's a lot of everything lately. I feel like I'm not good enough to be a sorcerer, I find myself helpless more often than actually useful. It sucks," you muttered, and it felt good to get it off your chest, to say it out loud. Joining Jujutsu High was something that gave you hope and the opportunity to help people. You wanted that, to use the weird things that your body can do to bring safety to others, but somehow you couldn't find a place for yourself. "Everyone around me is so amazing... I mean, the first years, Nanami and Haibara are both so cool. Shoko is amazing with her reverse curse technique. And then there's you and Satoru on a completely different level."

"You're too harsh on yourself, y/n," Suguru said, his voice soft as honey, and without fail, the tone in which he speaks your name always makes your heart skip a beat. Geto has a way about him that really draws you in. To say that you have a little crush on him would be an understatement, but you kept it to yourself. Having him as your best friend is enough for you, you wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, and you would never risk making your relationship with him awkward if the feeling wasn't reciprocated.

"You're strong," he smiled, still looking up. "And you really are doing great. It's just our reality that not every time we can help others. Sometimes, we fail. Even Satoru fails, believe me. I fail too."

That made you chuckle.

"You always seem so perfect in everything you do."

"Oh, don't be fooled," he shook his head slightly. "I am far from perfect."

"Thank you, Suguru," you whispered finally. "What bothers you?"

"I'm not even sure..." he exhaled and tucked one of his hands under his head. "There have been a lot of missions, a lot of stressful situations, and Satoru obviously takes everything so lightly because he can. I mean, he processes everything in his own way, I'm sure, but for me... I feel like it's weighing me down a lot."

"There's a lot on your shoulders. Strength always comes with responsibility," you whispered, grabbing the hand he'd raised from its place on his stomach and stroking it with your fingers. It was a small gesture, but it made Suguru sigh softly as the warmth of your fingers radiated through his palm. Somehow, the smallest touches from you, even the accidental ones, held a power over him that he himself didn't quite understand. Sometimes he'd catch himself thinking about you, his mind wandering to where your image was saved and his body aching for anything connected to you. Those tedious car rides when your thigh would be pressed against his as you sat between him and Gojo, or those long train rides the two of you had to take sometimes when you would stand up with your arm wrapped around his middle because you couldn't comfortably reach the top handle so you held onto him instead. Every little brush of your fingers against his hands, every single one of your touches is stored in his mind and cherished, along with every mental picture he took of you smiling or scrunching your nose so cutely. Yeah, Suguru is head over heels for you, and those sleepless nights when you come to his room are sacred to him.

"I guess so," he said finally, letting his body relax, pushing away the tension. "But I feel the same way you do. The people here are out of this world, and even though I'm, let's say, strong or whatever, I often feel like I'm still lacking so much. It's frustrating. And my technique... Disgusting, really."

"I find your technique amazing," you muttered quietly. "I mean... you told me about the taste, and I get it. But I feel like... I don't know, most of our techniques are purely destructive. Isn't it incredible that you can take the curses that already exist and use them to do good? To fight, to protect people, shit, you can fly with them. That's so dope."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

He sighed, as the quiet once again filled in the air. Silence between you two always was relaxing. It felt natural, carrying no awkward undertones, as you focused a little longer on drawing circles on the palm of his hand, and he allowed you to do it without thinking much about it.

"It reminds me a bit of our first days here," you began again, keeping your voice down, not much above a whisper. "We were both so clueless about everything, and after the first few days, we met here and talked about everything on the floor."

"And we ate the frozen pizza that we tried to heat up on the stove," Suguru chuckled as the memories flooded his mind. "God, it was awful."

"Hell yea, it was," you joined in the laughter. "But I loved it."

"I liked it too. Time with you. It's always grounding. Not the pizza though."

"Definitely not the pizza," you agreed.

Suguru was a safe place for you, and as the two of you continued to talk about sweet little nothings, reminiscing about the two years you had already spent together in Jujutsu High, sharing muffled laughs and long exhales at everything you found funny or sad, you found yourself urging to tell him about your feelings. You shouldn't, you knew that, but sometimes you felt like maybe, just maybe he might like you back? He is always so warm and open to you in a way he isn’t even to Satoru and they are basically brothers.

"Suguru?", you finally called his name after a little while of silence. Flipping to your side, you analyzed his slow and regular breathing, his eyes closed, and you thought he might be asleep already, but he hummed softly in response, encouraging you to continue. "I... I like you. I really like you." Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the night, you were impressed that you could speak so loudly about the feeling you’ve been keeping to yourself for almost two years now.

You watched him for a moment, his beautiful profile that even in the dark you were able to admire, but nothing changed in his stance. His features were still neutral, his chest was still rising in serenity, and you thought that maybe he really was sleeping. Maybe the hum he gave you was not a response, but rather a random noise he made. That's probably for the better, you thought and closed your eyes, exhaling and hoping to get rid of the tightness in your chest. But Suguru shifted, slowly turning his body towards you and carefully wrapping one of his muscular arms around your frame, pulling you to his chest. Your entire being heated up in shock, but somehow the tension quickly faded, leaving you relaxed as never before.

"I really like you too, y/n," he whispered against your hair, planting a kiss to the top of your head. Smiling, you snuggled even closer, pressing your ear to where his heart beat.

"We're gonna get in trouble if I stay here," you whispered, having no intention of getting up.

"Yeah, probably," he murmured, tightening the embrace, closing every gap between the two of you, and you could feel him relaxing as sleep began to overtake him. "Seems like a tomorrow problem; Not gonna worry about it now."

"Good night, Suguru," you smiled, closing your eyes and melting against him.

"Good night, y/n."