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tboygareth · 1 year

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here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue

"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"

"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.

he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.

"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."

"uh, sure?"

eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"

"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.

"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."

"a show? like a concert?"

"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."

"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."

"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"

he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.

"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."

safe, then. tentatively.

eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.

the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.

the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.

"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.

"i'm sorry?"

"i said, the front bottoms."

"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"

"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"

"sure."

eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."

they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.

"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"

"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."

"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."

"well what about you? what do you listen to?"

"guess."

"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."

eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."

out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.

steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."

"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."

this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."

"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"

"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."

"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"

"i am. trauma nurse."

"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"

"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."

"shit."

"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"

"line cook."

steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."

"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."

"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"

"mmm."

it's not a denial.

they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.

"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."

it clicks into place, then, for eddie.

"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"

steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"

"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."

"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"

"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.

"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."

"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.

steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.

so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.

still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.

#steddie #steddie fic #bee's blurbs #idk what this is honestly #it came to me in a vision #buckingham #if you squint

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 days

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Gentleman 🌼💌

Geneticist!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Intern!Reader

Synopsis: You're a struggling college student who's managed to land a coveted internship at Alchemax in the Genetics department under Dr. Miguel O'Hara. It's no secret that everyone wants him but you managed to catch his eye. Word count 3.4k

A/N: from a suggestion by @miguelzslvtz 🖤 here ya go! My take on a sugar daddy fic with Miguel in a situationship to lovers trope, with my own little twist on it. If y'all like this enough I'll continue it 🥰 I'm also trying to cook the other ideas that were left on my feedback post I made a little bit ago including a Nerd!Miguel fic and a CEO enemies to lovers eventually ✊🏽 This art by @/blahhberry on Instagram is Dr. O'Hara btw 😏

TW: a little angst, food insecurity, financial struggles, a little bit of bullying, jealousy, relationship between manager and subordinate, I don't recommend this IRL , half ass science stuff, I'm no expert 💀

Part 2

-----

The sharp wind chill in the morning that only lead to a sweltering afternoon began to signal that summer was edging towards the pre autumn season. Miguel took a deep breath in through his nose as he walked down the steps of his grand estate, black Americano in a fancy tumbler in one hand and his phone in the other, listening to his favorite science podcast with wireless earbuds as he smiled and blew one more kiss to Gabi who was waving goodbye on the doorstep next to Conchata.

----

You're running down the florescent halls of the large maze like interior of Alchemax, sweat forming on your forehead and upper lip, flaps of your lab coat floating away from your body like a mad scientist. You're a whooping 40 minutes late for your first day of your genetics internship. Not how you wanted this morning to go at all, simply because you decided to "rest your eyes" five minutes after your alarm went off.

Your outfit you had planned all week didn't look how you envisioned, you had no time to do your hair and makeup, now you were trying not to cry as you prepare yourself mentally to kiss your career goodbye before it even got started.

Miguel is looking over the shoulder of some of the other interns in the lab, quiet tinkling noises of the lab samples placed under glass microscope lenses and hushed voices with quick scribbles of lead pens on lined notebooks. Soft giggles coming from a neighboring group of a few girls from your sorority that were shamelessly gawking at the older, handsome, tall, brawny geneticist with brown eyes, sneaking photos of him when he wasn't looking to fawn over in their respective group chats.

All eyes are on you as you enter the quiet lab, and shamefully shuffle to the only unoccupied table which happens to be in the dead front. A pin drops and your heart sinks to your stomach as you're met with an annoyed stare from your intern supervisor.

Miguel addresses the group he was in the middle of assisting, nodding with a low, "Continue,"

He walks up to your table. Your face burns furiously as you fight back tears, hastily pulling out your notebook, pencils and supplies to get set up. Miguel stops in front of you and you swallow slowly and sniffle as you look your superior in the eye for the first time.

His broad shoulders and tall height give him an aura of seriousness and slight intimidation. His eyes are deep brown and seemingly bottomless, mesmerizing, a hint of softness in them despite everything else about him that portrayed sternness underneath his narrow frame glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose. A shadow of stubble peppers his strong jaw and runs down his thick neck, a very faint streak of grey runs along the corners of his brunette locks. He rolls up the sleeves of his lab coat on his thick forearms, eyes flickering to his clipboard and then back to you.

"Name?" He asks.

Your mouth dries momentarily at the pleasant low timbre of his voice, but you quickly answer, hoping your first impression isn't completely unsalvageable at this point.

He nods and shifts a microscope towards you, along with your lab sample testing kits. "Since everyone else is already partnered up, I will be your partner for this first project." He clicks his pen, stowing it gracefully in his lab coat breast pocket, swiftly unloading the samples from the kit onto the table, prepping them.

"Firstly, I am Dr. O'Hara. I'm the head intern supervisor for the Genetics department at Alchemax. Today, we are identifying and labeling these samples in various stages of cell division for my research groups that I oversee." He explains. "You should be fairly familiar with these, correct?"

You feel the heat but you nod enthusiastically, determined to turn this day around and prove him wrong and show him that you're just as deserving to be here as anyone else; you just had a stroke of bad luck. You eagerly take over and adjust the microscope lense for the first sample and bring your eye to it, squinting and then quickly writing down the label in your notebook for the first sample: "That's...anaphase." You state confidently.

Miguel looks at you while you write, leaning towards you a little bit and shifting the microscope closer to him, a faint whiff of his scent rolling off his arms for a brief moment, catching you off guard. He looks into the microscope without a word then nods, the corners of his eyes softening, removing the annoyed glare they held earlier when he first looked at you. "That's right." He affirms.

Another hour passes, and you both manage to complete all of the samples you were assigned in the nick of time, wrapping up the final sample two minutes after the internship was due to end, just a tad late due to the delayed start you got compared to your fellow lab mates.

As you worked, Miguel took note of how you seemed to work slower than the others, yet you were more cautious. You were meticulous and a bit of a perfectionist, taking lots of time to ponder and even verify anything you weren't sure of by asking Miguel and following up with any additional questions you had that were spawned as a result. He liked that you were thoughtful and inquisitive. You were humble and demonstrated you could work hard to get things done.

As you hastily packed your bag, closing it with a loud zip, Miguel cleared his throat. "Well done today... I'm impressed you could manage to complete the same work load as your colleagues, despite having less time to do it."

"Oh-thank you, sir." You nod, giving him a modest smile. "I try to work hard at what I do."

"It shows." He nods, removing his thin glasses and hanging them on the front of his shirt, the weight of the glasses barely tugging his shirt down, revealing a little more of his neck, accentuating his broad chest. "Just, do not be late again.....ever, okay?" He looks at you sternly, his expression as he waits for your confirmation almost as though he was begging you to keep this promise.

"I won't, Dr..."

"O'Hara."

"Dr. O'Hara." You say confidently, standing up a little taller. "You can count on me." You state firmly.

He nods, the corner of his mouth ever so subtly revealing the ghost of a smile. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

-----

You set nearly 10 consecutive alarms for the next day, waking bright and early to get dressed and do your hair and makeup just how you wanted it.

You let out a deep breath, a comforting smile on your face as you paced yourself down the street, enjoying the morning and much more confident and at peace with yourself knowing you looked good and you weren't going to let Dr. O'Hara down by being late.

Your stroll is interrupted by a loud growl of your stomach. You groan and check your phone. You had plenty of time to grab a small item for breakfast from the bodega on the way. You beeline in the other direction, backtracking momentarily to go satisfy your hunger.

You feel a pit in your stomach when you realize what day it is and rip out your phone, your heart sinking to your chest when you see that $800 withdrawal of your student tuition posted to your checking account. You scroll with a shaky hand, pulling up your calculator and doing the math after two of your other pending transactions went through. You were left with a whooping $7 to your name, and you weren't going to get paid for another week.

Shit...shit...

Normally, you had a handle on your finances, but a couple of emergencies came up where you had to visit the doctor, buy your medicine, and also buy another textbook that one of your professors neglected to mention was required for the class. That, along with your tuition, and maybe a couple more iced coffee runs than you should have left you with barely nothing to survive on until your next payday.

But with the way your stomach is utterly growling right now, you'll just have to find a way to deal with it later. You order your usual breakfast sandwich from the bodega and sprint down the sidewalk, making haste for Alchemax.

-----

Miguel is about to enter the lab, shrugging into his lab coat when he hears chattery whispers coming from behind the door. He stops for a moment when he thought he heard his name, inching closer so as not to reveal his presence, leaning against the door.

You're being interrogated by some of your fellow interns, the group of girls that were oogling Dr. O'Hara the day before and also your fellow sorority members: Heather, Vivian, and Isla. They're pelting you with a million questions a minute, expecting a full report on what it was like working with him yesterday and trying to dig up any information about his personal life.

"Ugh, I wish he would've spent time with our group yesterday instead. No offense, of course," Heather says.

You shrug, going back to writing little notes in your notebook, reviewing your work from yesterday.

"How come you're so quiet?" Vivian prods. "Seriously, you haven't like hung out with us at all and barely talk to us."

"She thinks she's better than us," Heather answers. The group snickers at that.

"No..." You protest, looking down in embarrassment, doing your best to try and shrug off their pestering comments.

"Girl there's no need to deny it, O'Hara had his eyes on you yesterday. He was obsessed." Vivian teases.

Your cheeks get hot as you look back at your notepad. Yes, Dr. O'Hara was easy on the eyes, no denying that. But he would have never thought of you that way in a million years. You were there for an internship, end of story. You had only barely managed to save this opportunity from burning and crashing to the ground a day before.

You knew you'd have to put in double the amount of work as everyone else did to prove yourself. There was simply no time nor room to dwell on how handsome the man was. A dangerous road you knew you needed to stay clear of, no matter how the other girl's comments were starting to get to you, a tiny whisper nudging your ego at the fact that it did seem like he had something of an interest in you.

"Sharing is caring, girl." The group's leader, Isla, pops her gum with a little smirk on her glossy lips. "Next time you get a chance, ask him if he's married and report back to us on what you find out."

Your face heats up. "Are you kidding, you ask him, Isla! The man barely tolerates me. I'm not gonna wind up on his bad side just because you guys want me to be nosy..."

At that very moment, Miguel abruptly enters the lab, taking his place upfront like he normally does, leaving behind a swift cloud of his scent hanging in the air as he brushed past your table, with everyone unaware that he heard every word that was said about him prior to his entrance.

"Good morning." He says in a pleasant tone, addressing the entire group. "We will be doing more sample identifying work today. Why don't we break into the same groups as last time. Since we have an odd number of folks, I'll have you work with me again." He looks directly at you.

You can feel envious pairs of eyes burying themselves into the back of your head as you sit side by side next to Dr. O'Hara again, clicking your pen every once in a while, coloring a black dot into the corner of your paper out of passive boredom while Miguel worked alongside you.

Miguel was slightly turned off by the comments he heard about him from your colleagues, finding the whole exchange unprofessional. He needed focused, dedicated interns who prioritized the work in front of them they needed to get done, not fantasize about him.

Frankly, it put him in an awkward position and he really didn't want to deal with it altogether. He looked at you as you silently labeled and notated one sample after another, barely speaking to him and your eyes locked on your own paper.

"So, what caused you to apply to this internship in the first place?" He asks.

You look at him, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Oh, well I'm going to school for Biology. I'm wanting to apply to med school."

"Really?" Miguel responds. "That's commendable." He goes back to his task, longer moments of silence passing between you two.

You turn around and you notice Isla and the others mouthing something to you. You try to mouth "What?" back to them then Miguel interrupts you, causing you to jump in alarm.

"Hmm, what?"

"I asked, are you here on a scholarship?" Miguel responds nonchalantly, his eyes locked on a sample under the microscope.

"Oh, no I'm not, unfortunately." You fiddle with a button on your lab coat. "I have student loans that I'm trying to pay back."

Miguel hums quietly in response, taking in your answer. "That must be a heavy burden with such an expensive field you're going into."

"Yeah..." You sigh. "It is. Sometimes I have to pick between paying my bills or eating lunch," you joke half-heartedly.

Your stomach growls loudly and you grab your stomach in alarm, hoping he didn't hear it.

Miguel looks at you in his peripheral vision, a slight hint of amusement on his face at the sound, finding it kind of funny that you seemed so embarrassed of a natural bodily process. "Speaking of lunch, sounds like it's getting close to that time... " Miguel remarks casually.

You nervously try to laugh it off, your face still a higher temperature. "Yeah, haha...for sure."

Miguel nods towards the brown paper sack sitting on the table. "Why don't you step out for a moment, have a bite to eat?"

"Oh..um." You try to play it off like you don't want it but Miguel remains unconvinced.

"Go on, I'll take these next few since you did the last three."

Your stomach growls loudly again and you stand up swiftly, not needing anymore convincing to take care of your raging hunger, taking the paper bag with you.

When you step into the hallway, your face utterly falls in disappointment when you realize the bodega gave you the wrong sandwich. It's a Reuben with sauerkraut. Your stomach groans in misery and you go to unwrap the sandwich regardless, hoping your desperation will make it easier to get over your dislike. A wave of nausea hits you at the smell.

You simply can't bring yourself to eat it, and it's time to head back anyway. You try to walk with watery eyes back towards your table with the brown paper bag still in hand, heart in the gutter because your last $7 is gone and you have nothing to eat but disappointment and desperate wishes for better circumstances.

Miguel's eyebrows raise as he watches you swiftly grab your things and leave the room without saying goodbye. Miguel walks back to his desk and notices your brown paper sack sitting there with a little sticky note on it.

"Dr. O'Hara- thank you for your help today."

Miguel frowns and opens the bag, his eyes widening at the sight. Reubens are his favorite. He takes a deep whiff, relishing the smell of the corned beef and melted Swiss with the Russian dressing and sauerkraut. This must have been a sandwich from a bodega because the bread smells and feels like it was baked only a few hours ago. Miguel looks at your handwriting on the note and then back at the door you just walked out of.

He feels a pang of guilt. While he greatly appreciated and relished the unexpected treat, you just gave up your lunch, and based on that comment you made earlier about your loans being so much that you had to choose between your debt and eating, he was starting to get worried about your well-being.

"Lyla? I need y/n's student loan records from the financial department. Have them on my desk in an hour."

"You got it, Migs."

-----

You entered your dorm, trying to hide your tears and dodge interrogation from Heather, Vivian, and Isla.

"Hey, you."

You pause, with a sigh, turning to meet Isla's burning stare. "Yeah?"

"Girl, so...is he married?"

"I didn't ask." You rub your temples.

"Oh my god...you had one job!"

"Look, y'all, I don't mean to be rude. But I just had thee shittiest day of my life and I have no food until next week. Wondering about whether our SUPERVISOR is married or not is not at the top of my list of concerns right now."

The groups looks at one another, taken aback. "Dude...calm down, we were just curious, it's not that deep. So dramatic..." Heather grumbles.

"It's okay y'all, I'm gonna make him fall in love with me, just watch." Vivian jokes.

"No me!" Isla shouts.

The three of them banter back and forth and you turn, huffing towards your room.

"But really wtf does he even see in her? Like why pay attention to the most boring person in the room when we're right there..." Isla mutters once you're out of earshot.

You lay down in bed, too distraught to study and cry yourself to sleep.

-----

Two hours later, your eyes ease open, your pillow slightly wet with drool after a good post-cry nap.

A missed call from your college shows up on your phone.

Confused, you return the call.

"Student Services how can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm a student...I have a missed call from you guys."

"Student ID?"

"27872099"

"Yes...we were calling you back about a credit to your account. It looks like that was fully settled this afternoon, and a refund has been issued back to your checking account that you have linked to your student account."

You blink. "Um, okay...but there was a balance of $10,130.70 this morning, and you guys took out the 850, so...what, there's probably a little over 9k remaining?"

"That was paid in full, along with an additional $1000.00 so actually that extra credit should be refunded to you and posted in 1-2 business days depending on your institution."

Your brow furrows. You look back at your bed then at the ceiling, trying to figure out if you were still sleepy. "Is this some kind of practical joke?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, that's ten thousand dollars we're talking about. And you're telling me that all of it was just magically erased this afternoon?"

"I can send you the statement if you would like, ma'am."

"Yes, please. Because something doesn't sound right about all of this."

"Very well...and your email is still valid?"

"Yes. Thank you."

You hang up and pace in your room until the email notification comes through. You blink in disbelief, sitting down on your bed with shaky knees when you see that sure enough, a whooping payment of $11,130.70 was applied.

----

Balance: $10,130.70

Debit card payment ending in xxxxx2099 $11,130.70

Ending balance = $-1,000.00

Credit issued for: $1,000.00 to checking account ending in xxxxxx4890

----

You scoff in sheer disbelief, a feeling of elation rising in your body. At that moment, your doorbell rings.

An annoyed Heather calls you downstairs.

You run to the door, your footsteps shaky under the shock of your debt being erased and becoming one thousand dollars richer in one day, mind still buzzing with the news.

A confused man is waiting at the door with a large bouquet of a gorgeous assortment of roses and daisies and a large bag of takeout from your favorite upscale restaurant, asking for you.

You nod slowly with a raised eyebrow and he hands your goodies over to you. Your mouth falls open at the small card attached to the bouquet, your name etched in silver cursive letters and a small message typed in black lettering.

Thank you for the sandwich and for your diligent work for my department. Enjoy.

- Dr. O'Hara

-----

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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purplepickles · 6 months

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“Under The Covers”

Pairings: Central cee x black fem reader

Genre: fluff

Authors Note: it’s my first time writing on tumblr so bare with me I also haven’t haven’t written anything in like years I used to a Wattpad author in like 2017-2019😭 so imagine what I used to be writing. It’s not my best peice of work but it’s progress kinda messy icl in terms of storyline but it’s something anyways I hope everyone enjoys it 💗

You had just signed a contract with vogue for a new segment they were trying out for they’re YouTube channel called “Under the Covers”. It was in a podcast style in a bedroom setting hence the name and basically talking about the latest fashion trends tips or anything black girl related.

You were so grateful for this opportunity never in your life would you have imagine a little black girl from London was able to sign a massive deal with vogue. The topic of todays video was maintenance. How you maintain standards for yourself if that means relationship, mental or physical health. So instead of it being in their studio you wanted your video being a bit more homely so why not in your home. The producers had set everything up in your room making sure everything was ready for filming but this video was going to have a little extra twist. You were going to have your very first guest and they how they managed to maintain their life and overall humbleness with the fame he had gained over the years.

You kept your relationship on the down low on the respect of each other careers and not wanting to surround your relationship over it. You were actually calm with that but he wasn’t liking seeing people he fucked with in your dms with heart eyes.

Little did Yn know he was going to announce it in their video together.

“Okay I’m going to count down from 5 and we’ll start filming” said the producer

“Hi Vogue it’s me Yn/ln and welcome to our new segment called Under the covers where uncover beauty secrets fashion and every black girl related. But today’s video things are little different we’re in my actual bedroom and I have a special guest with us he’s one of my favourites rappers right now a current world wide sensation Central Cee”

“I didn’t know I was your favourite artist”

“Yes you did you’re also my most listened to artist on Spotify we’ve defo talked about this”

“Mhmmm”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the video

“Anyways let’s get straight into todays topic: maintenance. How to do maintain eye yourself to keep your life somewhat stable”

“I guess keeping my mum,my brothers, my fans and my girl happy innit. If they’re happy I’m happy” said central cee never straying away from eye contact from the love of his life

“And what you say is the hardest one to keep happy and why” Yn was very curious about this who knew where this could go

“My girl defo she’s says I’m annoying I think she hates me”

The way your head slowly snapped

“Did you not say at Amelia Dinner Date you like girls you hate you”

“Yh I did I turns me on but she’s just something Yk I’m just infatuated by her but maybe I’m a bit delusional when it comes to her yk idk if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Kinda new to this love thing and not messing up yk I don’t wanna get it wrong again I really like her”

That was probably the most beautiful thing he’s said in a while she didn’t know he felt like this she sometimes she can be a bit rude and her sarcasm can be taken the wrong way but she thought he knew between the lines that she didn’t hate him she lived more than anything.

“I think you should talk to her about your feeling more Yk. Don’t be shy on opening up more Yk. When you feel ready ask her what she thinks it’s possibly lacking” she smiled at him with reassurance hoping that he could through her eyes that’s it okay and she was listening

“Yh your right imma tell her right now!”

Yn chocked on her drink. He could not be serious. She should’ve known this boy was up to something

“As in right now!? I’m sure she’s busy” you said trying to get to him to change his mind

“Nah she’s not im calling her rn”

For someone who didn’t like interviews this but sure had a lot to say

Ring

Your phone was on the other side of the room Ringing none stop.

Everyone was looking at you. You knew the producers were loving this but you were not this was too much.

Ring

“Yn are you gonna pick up you phone”

you usually loved his smile but this was just devious.

“Do I have to” you were just dreading this

Everyone shouted yes. You rolled out bed and a grabbed the phone

“Hi baby”

“Hi cench, now can we get back to the video please”

“Yes Cench we can. You wanna cuddle too?”

The video was going well there was laughter within the whole room. You asked him the question that you were assigned to ask him everything was going great. You loved being under your lovers arms. Maybe letting people in wasn’t so bad.

“Thank you vogue for this absolutely-

A knock on the door you both looked at door and someone opened to little boy running in crying and jumping to Oakley’s arm. How many surprises could one video take you said to yourself in your head.

“What’s up little man” Oakley now went into full father mode his whole rapper persona was switched and all he cared about was understanding why his little boy was upset

“Had a bad dream” said the little one

“How about we say goodbye to vogue and make some hot chocolate” you said while trying to tickle him

“Right I think me and vogue has had enough surprises don’t forget to like subscribe and hit that notification and stay tuned for next weeks video about Motherhood and Careers with a icon mother and billionaire. Bye guys”

#central cee #central cee x reader #centralcee inagines #central cee x you #central cee x Yn

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sthavoc · 1 month

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enzo with a girl who loves to read <3 she loves books like crime and punishment, dorian gray, on earth we're briefly gorgeous, etc... she's just such a bookworm and he loves it and is always seen with a book now because of her and he talks about her sometimes to like she recommended a book to him etc...

༼ ；📚 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!bookworm!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: headcanons of how you got enzo into reading and him talking about your love for books.

·˚ ༘ warnings: fluff and admiration

·˚ ༘ note: I’m not rlly a big reader but I tried my best. I hope you enjoy! this one is a small blurb

☆ You have always had a love for books, mostly novels, no one could ever catch you without a book in your hands. That’s how Enzo met you. A book in hands and with the same admiration of the words that captured your attention.

“¿Quien es la nena que está con el libro?”

☆ Even the first gift Enzo ever got you was a book, a classic, The Pictures of Dorian Gray. You had already read the book, but you never got the chance to buy your own copy, and of course, after you mentioned it to Enzo he picked up on it and made sure to gift it to you.

“Te brillan los ojitos al leer, entonces te lo compré.”

It was also that the man knew how much you wanted it.

☆ And after months of dating you he even began to get curious as to why, why did you like reading so much? And so he once came up to you in bed while you had a few candles on and was reading a new book that you had just started, titled The Black Tulip. His question made you go on a rant for hours and after he had gotten his answer he began to simply nod along so you could continue talking, and only because he loved the sound of your voice.

After you finished you let him borrow two of your favorites, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous and Crime and Punishment. You were always very careful with your books and would never let anyone borrow them since you feared they would wrinkle the pages or spill something on them, but it was Enzo. You knew he was temperate with his things so he wouldn’t do anything to yours.

☆ After he read the books he understood why you loved them so much. The intrigued of not knowing what could happen next, the way the writer inked their pages, the prompt. The way the words made your heart sink, stop, have you at the edge of your seat. It was amazing.

He even started to read too, during his free time.

☆ When pictures of him would appear on the media, he would carry a book or would be reading one. He seemed at piece just like you would be.

“Look at Enzo reading a book just like his girlfriend. what a bookworm he is now.”

It was true, he had begun to buy books of his own, sometimes your recommendations, one of them being In a Shallow Grave by James Purdy.

☆ In one of the podcasts they brought up the question of, what does he do during his free time? And his answer was the obvious—

“Bueno ya llevo rato que me gusta leer. A mi novia le fascinan los libros entonces me prestó unos y los empecé a leer. Ahora llevo uno conmigo a todos lados.”

☆ Also when he speaks about you he does it in a way of admiration. He is so dedicated when somebody brings you up or mentions you. It’s like his favorite question, anything that involves you he loves.

“Se me hace tierno que le fascinen tanto los libros. Ya hasta me los recomienda, se pone muy contenta con el tema.“

☆ You were like his book, the way you would get excited to talk about them, he would get excited to talk about you. You were his reason for excitement. You were his ink on paper.

#enzo vogrincic #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic blurb #enzo vogrincic fic #enzo vogrincic imagine #enzo vogrincic one shot #enzo vogrincic x you

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postitforward · 5 months

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Hello Again! 👋

The holiday season is not all fun for all folks. In truth, it can be a lot of stress, hard work, and a reminder of many things that would rather be forgotten. What they should be is a chance to pause, rest, and recoup 😴

What should be a time of joy and celebration can be a period of stress, blues, or even burnout 😩

This is why we are back with Self-Care Sunday, to help ensure that you get at least some of the downtime y’all need to truly look after yourself. We are partnering with @therapyforblackgirls, who have put together some essential resources to help see you through the holiday season. And it gets better. After each release, y’all will get a podcast session roundup, journal prompts, a guide to getting started, and a Sister Circle invitation 🌠

Here for Week One let's Focus on Mental Wellness, and three things to know about your first therapist appointment. There will be essential information to help see you through those daunting first sessions with your health and happiness in mind.

🧘Self-Care Sunday: Tumblr X Therapy for Black Girls, 03/12 at 1pm EST. 🧘

#mental health #positivity #holidayblueswithtumblr #holiday blues with tumblr #holiday blues #therapy #self care #self care sunday #holiday blues with tumblr 2023

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sugrhigh · 2 months

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FAMILY TIES - ( m.s & c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you, matt, and chris go to a bruins game with the kids

warnings- none i don’t think!

girl dad!matt and boy dad!chris

a/n: i tried so hard to write this well and im still not sure if im satisfied, but i hope u enjoy!! kinda short but i think after this weeks podcast we all need a bit of fluff lol

@cutenote @rootbeerworshiper @bb-1s-blog @rileysturniolo @mbbsgf @sturnlova @angelworldspost @l9vesick @st7rnioiossblog

“it’s ridiculous that you always wear my clothes better than i do.” matt speaks, interrupting you as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror.

you’re in one of his many bruins sweatshirts, which is a little too big for you so you have one side tucked into the pocket of your jeans.

you pad over to give him a quick kiss, hand pressed to his chest. “you still look very handsome.”

“thank you, babe.” he gives you a tiny pat on the ass, which still to this day makes your cheeks ignite.

your daughter, eve, comes flying around the corner into your bedroom moments later, almost running right into her dad. she’s all dressed up for the occasion too, clad in her mini bruins jersey.

“woah, slow it down there partner.” he scoops her up into his arms easily, and her eruption of laughter makes you smile.

“can we go now?” eve says through giggles.

“you don’t want to wait for uncle chris and parker?” you ask knowingly, and she sighs, leaning her small head against matt’s chin.

“i guess.”

as if on que, there’s a loud pounding on the front door, and you hear it open. eve’s face lights up, and she claps her hands together in excitement.

“they’re here, they’re here!”

“we’re here evie!” chris calls back, and the smile is clear in his voice.

matt sets your daughter down so she can run for the stairs, the both of you following closely behind her.

parker is hiding behind chris’s legs, one hand grabbing onto his dad’s black cargos for safety. the second eve comes rushing toward him, though, he opens right up as always.

they hold each other tightly for a second as you finally reach the bottom of the grand staircase, which gives you time to pull chris into a quick embrace too.

“good to see you, as always.” you grin, and he matches your expression.

“i can never turn down some family time.”

matt chuckles a little, clapping his brother on the back as they hug next. “you just want an excuse for me to drive so you can get a drink.”

“well, i can’t turn that down either.” chris jokes back.

“alright, who’s ready for some hockey?” you ask, mainly to eve and parker, who both bounce around with each other happily.

“me!”

“me too!”

you herd everyone into the car and get the kids situated in their respective booster seats beside chris. there’s always an extra in your vehicle, just in case parker is around, which is often.

you love the little guy. he really is like a mini version of his dad, and chris’s wife is gorgeous too, which also shows in his face. you were so upset when you found out she was sick, but she insisted you guys needed to go enjoy without her, so here you are.

most of the drive to the garden is spent singing along to the radio and keeping eve and parker in check. as cute as they are together as cousins, they’re also trouble. to be fair, they’re only three, so it’s in their nature.

you used to think that eve got her rebel streak from her father, but matt insisted it’s a trait that came from you. as the time went on, you realized that she’s definitely inherited it from your side of the family.

thinking about it makes you grin a little bit to yourself. she’s definitely equal parts of you and matt.

eve’s voice interrupts your thoughts, almost like she knew what was going on in your brain.

“are we there mommy?”

“almost, i promise.”

“pinky?” parker chimes in next.

“oh, of course.” you fully lean across the center console so you can extend your pinky finger to him.

he loops his own little hand with yours and shakes it, and you do the same with eve.

it seems like only seconds later you’re pulling into the arena’s parking deck, and the kids start kicking in their seats eagerly.

chris unbuckles them and helps them out into the chilly air as you round the corner of the car. thankfully they’re both all bundled up in their outfits, even complete with their little matching bruins beanies that matt had picked out months ago.

the whole walk toward the entrance, chris and matt take turns swinging parker and eve between themselves, and you’re all still laughing as you approach security.

matt scans the tickets and suddenly you’re meshing with the crowd, keeping the kids close as you head for concessions first.

the rink is all lit up as you finally make your way to your seats minutes later, equipped with two beers, two sodas, and two tubs of popcorn.

the kids munch happily from their seats as they watch warm-ups, just a couple rows back from the glass. you can’t help but beam, sneakily taking pictures of the two of them together because it just warms your heart.

“looking at the two of them kind of makes me want more, you know.” matt leans over from the seat on the other side of you, breath tickling your ear.

you nudge him playfully, though it makes your pulse skyrocket as you turn to look at him.

“just say the word.”

it’s his turn to go slack-jawed, and he has to clear his throat to force himself to stop thinking about the possibility of more children with you, the woman he fucking adores.

you’d never really talked about it after eve, since you were both so hyper-focused on her as new parents. plus, she’s always had her cousin every step of the way.

but maybe she’d like having a little brother or sister of her own.

“maybe they can stay at chris’s place tonight?” matt thinks out loud.

“let him drink that beer a little longer and i’m sure you can convince him.” you grin as you take a sip of your own.

a few minutes later the arena gets dark as the announcer hypes up the crowd, and you’re (mostly) all on your feet cheering once the bruins skate onto the ice.

parker is piggy-backing on chris’s shoulders, arms flung around his neck as his dad supports him. you’ve got eve on your hip so she can get a good view as well, watching the players while the spotlights focus in on the rink.

her eyes are as wide as saucers, like she’s totally entranced by the noise and the movement.

“daddy, look!” eve points at them excitedly, leaning in your arms so she can glance over at matt.

“i know baby! isn’t it cool?” he feeds into her enthusiasm with a wide grin.

your heart soars as you transfer her into matt’s arms, watching as he ruffles her beanie a little bit so she shrieks with laughter. it’s precious, watching him treat her like the little princess she is.

the national anthem plays shortly after, and the game officially begins. you watch as he points out players to eve, telling her different fun facts about each of them.

chris is bopping parker around on his back to the beat of the music, and he smiles along with his dad.

for a moment, you’re completely consumed by your own thoughts, so thankful for this little found family of yours. you turn your head to look at matt, and he meets your eyes immediately.

“i love you.” you mouth, unable to contain your smile.

“i love you more.” he mouths back.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #dad matt #dad chris #dad au #sturniolo fluff #fluff #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo

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indogaysian · 2 years

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"When I use the term “whiteness” I do not solely mean that white women are overrepresented as protagonists. I also include whiteness as a hegemonic force used to subjugate and oppress people of color. Although these white protagonists often act violently upon themselves, through various forms of self-harm, eating disorders or engaging in dangerous sexual acts, to regain control of their lives, they also externalize this violence onto those they can get away harming. Their primary targets are often people of color, mainly Black people."

"These fictional depictions of the white disaffected woman have real-world parallels. In an episode of the Red Scare Podcast titled “Shia Labuse,” hosts Dasha Nekrasova and Anna Khachiyan mock FKA twigs, who opened up about the abuse she endured from Shia LaBeouf. Dasha, who diagnosed herself with “girl, interrupted syndrome” and is heavily associated with the waif aesthetic, calls twigs “attention-seeking” and “aggressive” in reference to the New York Times article where she exposed Shia. One can only assume she felt comfortable making these cruel remarks because Black women are not afforded the same vulnerability that white women are able to capitalize on."

"Black women are not afforded the luxury of dissociation due to the continuous cycle of racial violence we are forced to confront."

#antiblackness /#criticism #words #sa mention /

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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

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"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release.

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,�� you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

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