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sluttywoozi · 23 days

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Starry Eyed | kmg x reader

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new.

Rating: T | WC: ~2.6k | Genre: romance, fluff | Pairing: kmg x reader

Warnings: kissing, food

Reader Notes: wears a dress, gets lifted by mingyu, referred to as ‘miss’ (forgot to add before, my bad!)

You’re not always ready when Mingyu rolls up to your house and knocks on your door, but on nights like tonight, you are.

You’ve got your prettiest dress on, the one that he said makes your eyes sparkle, and you have a small container holding the cake you baked him just this afternoon. There’s a blanket, some battery powered fairy lights, and a bluetooth speaker in your bag, and as soon as you hear his timid raps on the wood, you’re on your feet and across the room. You don’t bother to slow yourself down as you open the door, long past pretending you do anything but sit on the couch waiting for him on nights like these.

Especially since it’s his birthday. Well, almost.

The smile that lights up his face when you appear has you fighting a swoon, though you know he would catch you before you hit the ground, his clumsiness absent when it comes to protecting you.

“Hey baby,” he says softly, already leaning in for a kiss. You happily grant it, pressing your lips to his and feeling that familiar spark in your stomach, the one you’ve only ever felt with him.

“Hi Mingyu,” you whisper, feeling oddly shy as he looks you up and down, taking in the bag on your shoulder and the box you carry. Normally, you’re empty handed, content to spend the hours just listening to music and talking about everything and nothing, like you always do.

But you want him to feel special tonight, to feel the love that you foster for him, to see the roots of the flowers that grow in your heart, watered and fed by him and him alone.

“Ready?” He asks, holding a hand out and waiting for you to take it, as if you could ever deny him.

“Ready,” you grin, giggling as he pulls you through your garden gate and around to the passenger seat of his truck. He opens the door for you and holds your waist as you climb up, making sure you’re securely inside before closing your door and running around to the driver’s side.

“Where are we going tonight?” You wonder, resting your head on the back of the seat and gazing at his profile, his sharp jawline and perfect nose and adorable ears.

“I thought I’d take you to the lake, the stars are crazy this time of year,” he glances over at you, laying his hand palm up on your thigh. The corners of his lips quirk up when you lace your fingers through his and he brings your joined hands to his mouth for a kiss, like it’s just instinct by now.

After ten months together, maybe it is.

This will be the first of Mingyu’s birthdays that you’ll get to be with him for, and you’re honored and slightly nervous that he wants to spend the time leading up to it with you. It’s barely 9 pm, there’s still three hours until it’s actually his birthday, but he was adamant that he wanted you with him for the transition and you’ve never been one to tell him no.

So here you are, driving down backroads and nodding along to the soft music playing on his radio, soaking in his lovely singing voice and stifling a smile at his lisp. He squeezes your hand when your song comes on, the one you decided together best matched your relationship, and you feel his ivy in your heart grow just a bit denser, just a bit greener.

It’s not long before you pull up to the lookout, Mingyu parking on the gravel with not a single other car in sight. If you were with anyone else, you’d be nervous, scared of every shadow and the dark lake stretched out in front of you, but with Mingyu, you know you’re safe.

He turns the truck off and unweaves his fingers from yours, jogging around to your side to open your door and help you down. You hold tight to your bag and the box of cake as he wraps his hands around your sides and helps you step down. You don’t mean to but you end up in his space when your shoes touch gravel, and there’s a split second of tension, one where you’re sure he’ll kiss your lights out. He just pulls away and takes your hand again, though, and you take in a deep breath and hold it long enough to blank out the dizziness he evokes.

Mingyu is quick to unlatch the tailgate when you get to the back of his truck, and even quicker to hoist you up into the cargo bed, his hands respectful and his handling of you utilitarian. You know it’s just because he’ll get distracted if he lingers, but you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to dawdle a teeny bit more, not that you’ll ever tell him that.

He hops up into the bed with you, walking over to the large metal storage box and pulling something out with a flourish.

“Look, baby,” he grins, his eyes somehow brighter than his smile.

You can’t quite tell what it is he’s holding, but then he unravels it and you realize with a gasp and a skip of your heart that he’s brought a bedroll. He must have packed it just for you, after you told him your back ached the last time you laid in the bed of his truck for hours.

“You’re so sweet, I could cry,” you beam up at him from where you sit, rising to your feet so he can arrange the padding. You take the time to set up your own things, winding the fairy lights along the inner edges of the truck and powering on your bluetooth speaker, starting your mixed playlist at a volume low enough for you to talk over. The blanket was meant to go under you but now it can go over, and you’re even more grateful for his thoughtfulness when you feel the chilly spring breeze ruffle your dress.

Perhaps it wasn’t the most practical choice of clothing, but you wanted to dress up for him a little bit, and you can’t fault yourself for that.

“You look so pretty, I should have told you earlier,” Mingyu says as he settles on his back on the padding, reaching out for you with open arms. You kneel carefully and curl up next to him, grabbing a corner of the blanket and drawing it over both of your bodies as you lean back and rest your head on his outstretched arm.

“Thank you,” you smile and tilt toward him for a kiss, your lips pressing against his softly before you pull away and snuggle into his chest. You feel a pressure on the top of your head and know he must have kissed you there too, eliciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

Ten months together and every moment still feels brand new.

You turn your eyes to the sky and take in the blanket of stars above you, their light striking on such a cloudless evening.

You know the visible constellations in this area thanks to countless nights spent like this, but you let him point them out to you anyway, just because he gets so excited to tell you about their stories.

He can summon them from memory by now, having lived in this small town his whole life. You moved here only two years ago, and met Mingyu before you even moved in.

After hours of driving, your sweet little car broke down a mile from the city line, with all of your earthly possessions packed in the back. You were close to tears, sitting on the side of the road trying to get in touch with your insurance when he pulled up behind you and hopped out.

You were nervous at first, he’s such a large man and he has such a large truck, but then he smiled at you and asked in the most gentle voice you’d ever heard, “Need some help, miss?”

You, obviously, fell in love immediately, but you were sure a guy like him would be taken already so you kept your feelings to yourself and tried not to let your eyes linger on his muscles as he loaded your things into the bed of his truck.

You had to look up your own address when he asked, and offered to give him directions but he just turned to you and said softly, “No need, miss, I know how to get there.”

And he did. Fifteen minutes later, he was parking in front of your new home and offering to bring your belongings in if you’d run ahead and get the door. All of your city-bred instincts told you not to let him into your house, but you decided then and there to put your faith in him, and to this day, he’s never made you regret it.

Mingyu asks you a question, pulling you out of your reverie, and you feel your cheeks heat as you realize you drifted off in thought while he was speaking.

“Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?” You ask, looking up at him with your most apologetic eyes.

He just grins and shakes his head, knowing you get lost in your head sometimes.

“I asked if you believe in soulmates,” he repeats in a nonchalant voice, the circles he swirls on your back the only sign that he’s nervous about your answer.

You hum, contemplating carefully. You never believed in fate or destiny growing up, and the concept of soulmates always seemed to be so far-fetched, but you have to admit that Mingyu has made you think differently.

He hardly ever leaves town, what were the odds of him being sent over to the city for a one day carpentry workshop? What were the odds of him coming back right after your car broke down? What were the odds of you even moving here in the first place?

There were hundreds of small towns to pick from, why did you choose this one?

And how in the hell was he single when you finally worked up the guts to ask him on a date?

“Baby? You don’t have to answer, I know you don’t really believe in that stuff,” he forces a laugh, shifting under you.

“I didn’t until I met you,” you confess, looking up to face him because you can feel his eyes on you.

He searches your face, hope and nerves warring on his own until his gaze clears and his lips stretch in a shining, ardent grin.

“I love you,” he whispers slowly, the words carrying more weight than they usually do. You know he always means it, but this time feels different, more like a promise.

“I love you,” you send him a wobbly smile, your feelings bubbling up in your chest until you fear they’ll spill out of your eyes as tears.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, drawing you toward him just as you start to lean in. You’re happy to meet him in the middle and even happier to feel his lips on yours, to feel him breathe his love into you.

You kiss for what feels like hours, always keeping the gentle, languid pace. There’s no urgency, no blaze of desire, just a warm, comforting feeling overtaking you, something like sinking into a hot bath after a long, freezing day.

When you finally pull away, it’s because an alarm goes off, one that you completely forgot you set in the first place. You reach into your bag for your phone and you’re shocked to discover it actually has been hours since you started kissing him, your sense of time completely skewed when it comes to Mingyu.

In just five minutes, it will be his birthday, and if you didn’t have the forethought to set an alarm for 11:55, you would have kissed him right through midnight.

This gives you just enough time to get everything ready, and though he pouts when you peel yourself off of him, you know he’s excited for what you have in store.

“Close your eyes,” you instruct him softly, waiting for his eyelids to flutter shut before springing into action.

He didn’t ask you to do anything but spend time with him, and while you’re happy to do that, you still couldn’t stop yourself from preparing just a little something.

You dig through your bag again to find the utensils, birthday candles, and lighter buried at the bottom before grabbing the container you stashed by the tool box. Wishing, hoping, praying the cake hasn’t been ruined, you take off the lid and breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of unmarred frosting.

Mingyu is no stranger to your baking, but this is the first cake you’ve specifically made just for him, and you want it to be perfect.

With the clock ticking, you carefully push the 2 and 7 candles in, setting the container down next to him and lighting the wicks just as your second alarm goes off. There’s only one minute till midnight now, and you leave your phone clock on so you can watch the time go from 11:59 to 12:00.

“Okay, open,” you tell him, kneeling a foot from where he lays, your lips bitten between your teeth and your hands clasped together in excitement.

When he blinks his eyes open and you see his face in the candlelight, the sheer love and devotion that floods your chest takes your breath away. You couldn’t exactly hide the cake container so you know he was aware you were planning something, but his eyes still grow wide in joyful shock, the beam that spreads his kiss-swollen lips enough to send your heart galloping away.

“Baby, you did all this just for me?” He asks, his voice just a bit watery and his eyes only slightly glassy.

“Of course I did, Gyu, I love you. Now, make a wish and blow out the candles, it’s almost midnight!” You urge him, watching as his eyes squeeze shut and his lips move, like the wish won’t come true if he doesn’t actually spell it out.

You don’t try to decode his words, even though you’re sure he won’t tell you what his wish was. You’ll let him keep it, you think, and make your own wish that his will come true.

His eyes open before he purses his lips and pushes out a breath, extinguishing the candles and grinning up at you with a secret in his smile. You can only surmise the wish involves you, and curiosity sinks its claws deep into you, down to the bone.

“You’re not going to ask what I wished for?” Mingyu gleefully teases you, reading you like you’re a book he’ll never put down.

“Nope,” you shake your head magnanimously, faking serenity even though you know he can see right through it.

His face softens into something fond, and before he can even reach for you, you’re leaning down and pressing your lips to his. It’s just a chaste, loving peck this time, mainly because you can tell Mingyu is itching to taste the cake. “Happy birthday,” you murmur into his lips before pulling away and pushing the cake closer to him.

“Have at it,” you giggle as you hand him a fork, watching as he digs in with gusto, his eyes closing and his face scrunching in delight at the flavors you chose.

He lets out a pleased hum, then garbles through a mouth full of cake, “Thank you, baby. Best birthday ever.”

You won’t even beg him to swallow before speaking like you usually do - it's his day, after all.

AN: happy birthday to the darling boy! sorry i'm a day late 💖

For mingyu and @bbychocolat

thank you for cheering me on @the-boy-meets-evil 💖

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b00kdiary · 3 months

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Stay With Me | Rhysand

Rhysand x Reader

Rhysand reappears at the cabin four hours after he had gone on a mission- wounded and bleeding. Y/N has no choice but to help him, even if it means yanking out every ash arrow embedded in his wings by hand. But something Cassian once told her makes her re-think the line between pleasure and pain, and she will do anything to make it better for her High Lord.

‘Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?’

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image thoughts, blood and gore, and smut (Hint: Wing play)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART TWO

PART THREE

I couldn't stop pacing.

That's what I did when I was nervous, and on edge- I paced. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, until I wore through the carpet and my entire body was thrumming with dread.

It had been four hours.

Four hours since Rhysand left to track those Hybern soldiers through the forest, hoping to be led back to their camp. For several weeks we've been dealing with Hybern forces infiltrating our land and yet we had no idea what they were planning.

It was the unknown that had made Rhysand go out tonight.

I had insisted I come, to help, to watch his back, something- but with the heavy snow and rain, he had been adamant that it would be easier to fly alone. Though I knew it was an excuse to keep me here, safe, and unharmed, while he was out there risking his life.

And now he was missing.

Four hours of silence and I was starting to feel violently sick with worry. I contemplated leaving the cabin, trekking on foot through the forest in search of him, but with the weather so furious and the fact he had been flying not walking, I knew it would be futile.

And Rhysand would kill me if he knew I had gone after him, especially when he had specifically instructed me to stay here.

"Stupid, arrogant High Lord," I cursed under my breath and despite the log fire crackling before me and the layers I wore, I still shivered from the brutal cut of the cold wind. My heart seized at the thought of Rhys out there in the brunt of it.

Hybern soldiers were ruthless and their hatred of the Night Court, of Rhysand was known. They could do anything to him; ash arrows, Faebane, dark magic, and Mother only knows what other weapons they have we don't know about.

"If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some kind of damsel," I scowl, my hands shaking as I yank on my discarded sword belt and daggers, "Then he is a bigger idiot than I thought possible."

I try and let my anger bubble over and overtake my fear as I make my way toward the heavy wood door, the sound of the whistling wind and perilous skies getting louder the closer I get to it. I'm trembling as I grip the handle, yanking it open with effort, the hinges stiff with the cold.

I stumble back a step at the sight of a tall male slumped against the door pane- blood pooled around his feet, stark against the white snow.

"Rhysand!"

All thoughts eddy from my head at the sight of him- his skin pale and dull, his midnight hair in disarray, his armour torn and filthy, and an agonised grimace lining his lips. A groan slips from him when my hands come to his chest, and my stomach turns at the warm blood that coats my palms.

"Cauldron, Rhys," I gasp, my throat closing as I stumble back into the cabin, his body weight half-leaning on me and every step he takes is slow and staggered, his face twisting as I guided him back with me. "What happened?"

"Hybern soldiers are assholes," Rhys grits out, a rough laugh slipping past his lips, but the sweet sound soon melts into a pained hiss when I turn so I can slam the door shut behind us- and I see why he's bleeding so goddamn much.

"Rhy- Rhys," I stutter, my fingers tightening into his suit, his muscles rippling under my touch, every breath he takes deeper and faster than the last. "The arrows, holy shit, there's so many-"

Five.

He had five arrows embedded into his back and wings.

"Really? I didn't notice," He grins, his heavy head lifting and those violet eyes meeting mine- though upon seeing the ire and worry on my face, that grin falters, "Hey, c'mon don't look at me like that, I'm alright-"

He sucks in a sharp breath of air, his eyes screwing shut when I begin to move back toward the sofa and I try not to let my body lock up when his hands fall to my waist and hips, long, ringed fingers digging into my flesh for leverage.

"Huh, I knew you wouldn't listen to me," He scoffs out a laugh, half-amused, half-breathless and my face burns with heat when he runs his hands idly down my sides, grazing pointedly over my sword belt and daggers. "You know it's an offence to disobey your High Lord, right?"

"Well since you're wounded and I'm the only one here to help," I grit out sardonically, ignoring how close his face is to mine as I guide his front down onto the sofa, careful not to touch his wings as I move behind him, "I'm sure you'll find a way to forgive me."

I frown at the amount of blood seeping out from his wounds, and I can feel how rigid his body is under my palms- he always was good at hiding his true emotions, masking his pain with an arrogant smile, or teasing words.

My breathing is shallow as I climb onto the sofa behind him, my soft thighs brushing his strong ones and my heart racing as I settle on my knees. His wings are limp on either side of him, one drooping down to the floor and the other sprawled over the cushions.

"You need to rip them out, darling," Rhys muses gently from under me and as if sensing my worry, his voice has lost all sense of humour. "No need to be gentle, I'm a big boy, I can take it."

"We both know you're a big Illyrian baby, Rhys," I tease, though my voice is strained and when he shifts his head sideways, looking over his wide shoulders at me, I see the small smile tilting his lips too.

I swallow the lump in my throat, shifting forward and placing a trembling hand on his back. To the arrow embedded at the junction of his wing and spine.

His hand slips back and curls around my thigh, fingers sprawling around the flesh and digging in as if he were bracing himself. The touch is distracting but I focus on my fingers wrapping around the arrow, a few inches from the entry point- and I hate how Rhysand's body flinches at the soft touch.

"Come on, darling," Rhysand sighs, his grip tightening around my thigh as I release a long breath, "Amren's going to kill me if I get any more blood on these cushions-"

I rip it out mid-sentence- and Rhysand's whole body jolts as I tear the arrow free from his flesh, a grunt of pain muffling into the leather beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whimper, my hand clamping down and applying pressure on the wound, the arrow discarded on the floor beside us. Rhysand trembles under me, his jaw locked so tight I can hear his teeth gritting together, "Shit Rhys, I'm sorry."

"It's- it's okay, it's okay," He pants, and I watch his face from the side, seeing him get paler and paler. He squeezes against my thigh, once, twice, and his eyes blink open, those violet eyes dark. "Keep going darling, you're doing so good, keep-keep going for me."

I feel the familiar burn of tears in my eyes as I lean forward, my fingers slippery with blood and gore as I curl my hold around the second arrow, this one just barely stuck near the very bottom of the left wing.

Ash arrows were notoriously dangerous, known for splintering within the flesh, one wrong move and Rhys would have pieces of the wood stuck in his wings and those would be near impossible for me to remove on my own.

I grit my teeth and pull, swift and brazen, not giving him or me a second to think about it. Again, Rhysand grunts, body viscerally jumping but he seems to bear the pain better the second time, his thighs clenching around mine for support.

"Forget what I said, I was wrong," I clear my throat, trying to force some ease and comfort into my tone as I run my hand up the muscles of Rhysand's back and I feel relief when he sighs, his body melting into my touch. "You're not a big Illyrian baby, you're a tough, strong male."

"What finally convinced you? The very manly way my body is shaking right now?" He released a long exhale, his mouth tugging into a smile and I can't help but laugh when his eyes glance back to meet mine. "Or the groans that keep slipping out no matter how hard I try to contain them?"

I laugh softly, my blood-stained hands running across the planes of Rhysand’s shoulders and back, the pad of my thumbs and forefingers circling around the stiff muscles, trying to get him to relax. He sighs, and his hand pulls against my thigh coaxing me higher up his body, closer than before.

"Nothing wrong with being vocal, Rhys, I would have thought five hundred years of existence would have taught you that," I run my finger across the membrane of his wing, feeling the soft, leathery texture as I move to the next arrow. "Females love to hear how you feel."

"Cruel, wicked thing," Rhysand mumbled, his breath hitching at the tender touch I grazed over his wings, and it was a very different sound to before. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? Having me at your mercy."

I wrap my hand around the arrow stuck in the middle of his wing and his body tenses- knowing what was waiting. I frown, hating that he is in pain and unconsciously, my left hand moves to his other wing, and he gasps, eyes widening when I run the pad of my thumb over the talon at the tip- a spot I knew was sensitive.

I tear the arrow out of the right wing with one hand, while my other rakes down the curve of his left wing, my nails scratching softly against the tender flesh there. Rhysand groans, louder this time, and it's a sound that I feel through my body.

"Are you- are you trying to make it feel better, darling?" He asks quietly, his breaths loud in the silent room and his hand at my thigh caressing, his thumb swiping soothingly back and forth.

"Yes," I reply, equally as soft, and my heart is racing as I edge closer, my core and ass settling over one of his burning hot thighs. "Is it working?"

"Yes," He swallows, an audible sound and I see his Adam's apple bobble, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as I reach for the fourth arrow. "Yes, it is, don't- don't stop." There's a slight tremor in his voice, a neediness that makes my head spin.

His body vibrates under me, but for a completely different reason now and it seems the more my idle hands wander curiously over the dancing veins and soft membranes of his wings, the less control he has over himself.

"Cassian said that the talon holds the most nerve endings, does that make it the most delicate to touch?" My voice is hoarse, and I ignore the sweat coating my skin and heat burning through me as I grab around the arrow, my shoulders bracing for the strength needed for this pull.

"Why are you and Cassian talking about the most sensitive parts of a male's wings?" He grits out, his thigh muscle tensing, and I feel it brush against my centre- wet and aching with need. A smile tugs at my lips at the darkness in his tone, that smile broadening when his wing twitches violently against my fingers.

"He also said that males can like having their wings touched during sex and that a brush against the right spot can make you climax, is that true?" His nails dig into my thigh at my whispered words, a moan slipping past his lips when I grip around the talon with a firm hold.

This time when I rip the arrow free, he doesn't feel the pain- too consumed and dizzy with pleasure.

"You're killing me, Y/N," Rhys chuckles, his body shaking with the laugh, a sound that travels through the air and over my skin like a phantom touch. I circle the heel of my palms into his shoulder blades, massaging out the tension and Rhys moans appreciatively, a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest.

"Only one left, Rhys," I say encouragingly, and he mutters incoherently in agreement as I lean forward, the last arrow embedded in his upper back- much deeper than the rest. I frown, rising onto my knees, already missing the strength and heat of his thigh between my legs. "This one's gone all the way through, I'm going to have to dig it out the other side."

"Just when I thought this couldn't get any more fun," Rhys jeers, his hand grazing along my thigh as I sit up as if needing my touch as reassurance.

My eyes narrow at his remark and suddenly the blood and the arrows and his pained face hold no bearing with me, the sympathy vanishes- replaced by the anger that had me ready to march out into a storm to look for him.

"That's what happens when you go chasing the enemy with no backup," I mutter stiffly, and this time when I grab the arrow, I don't give Rhys any satisfaction or comfort- no, I break the arrow in two with an easy snap of the wrist, dropping the fragmented piece to the floor with a clink.

He winces, and when I hover above him, his head turns to look at me, a sheepish smile on his handsome face.

"I take it you're still upset with me then, darling," Rhys muses and the ting of humour in his words makes me scowl, my touch no longer soft or soothing, my body no longer enjoying the hard, perfect feel of him.

“Turn around,” I order, dismissing him as I rise from him and onto my feet. His hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, a yearning in his touch, but I move away from him stiffly. “I need to dig out the arrow from the front.”

He purses his lips at my cold words, and I almost feel bad for him when he hisses in pain, his muscular, lean body so frail as he rolls onto his back, his sore wings moving slow and deliberately, barely able to lift higher than his shoulders before sagging back down again.

“Y/N,” Rhys sighs, a deep frown tugging at his lips as he drops his head against the armrest. I stare at him in silence, seeing him splayed out before me, chest rising and falling in harsh waves and those violet constellations unwavering upon me.

"You could have been killed, Rhysand," I grit out, and I hate the tears I feel prickling my eyes as I stare at him, at the blood coating my hands, and the sofa and the floor, the wound puncturing through his left pectoral. "If you don't trust me to have your back-"

"Don't say that, never say that" He rises faster than I can protest, and my hands shoot up to stop him, but he doesn't relent, his face harsh with discomfort but his eyes burn with determination as he sits up. "I trust you more than anyone, more than myself, don't ever think that Y/N."

"Alright, okay Rhys," I sigh, shaking my head and my hands are weak as I place them on his solid shoulders, trying to guide him to lay back down. His eyes never once leave mine and I can see the hurt in them- that I would even think such a thing. "I'm sorry, just lay down, you're still hurt."

His face tightens severely, and he looks so at odds with the male known for his easy smiles and bright stary eyes- but he obliges me as I guide him back down. His hands curve up my thighs and rest on my hips, and he doesn’t speak as he yanks me down, dragging me so that I straddle his waist.

“Rhys-“ I suck in a sharp breath when he settles me, forcing my weight to sit atop him, my thighs clamped around his hips, my core settled just under his belly button and his calloused hands kneading the flesh at my sides.

"I told you to stay here because I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you," He whispers, eyes unbearably soft, and his touch igniting something hot in me, "If they did something to you if you got hurt... I don't know what I would do, Y/N."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest as I bring my hands forward to the front of his leathers, my fingers stumbling as I unbuckle the belts and slip off the buttons one by one, revealing the acres of tan skin and the dark whorls painted across his chest.

I gnaw on my cheek as I tug back the shirt, Rhysand silently watching every action, every breath I take, and my face falls at the wound leaking blood above his left pectoral, the arrowhead peeking through the gore.

“And what if something worse than this happened to you?" I whisper, my voice hoarse with emotion and when my eyes meet Rhysand’s again, his face tightens at the tears in my eyes, “What do you think I would do? How would I be able to live with it?"

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rhysand swallows thickly and I watch as he grits his teeth, his body pulsing when I run my fingers over the wound, gauging how deep I have to feel, how best to remove the arrow in one piece.

“I need to dig it out with my fingers to get it to the surface first,” I clear my throat, ignoring the thick prolonged silence and taut tension between us, “It’s going to hurt, badly.”

“I know,” He locks his jaw, the strong angle sharp and I see the grim anticipation on his face when I move my index finger and thumb into position over the exit point. But without speaking, I move my body, lower, until my core settles over the front of his breeches- over his long, hard length.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-“ His breath hitches at the contact, his violet eyes widening and latching onto mine in surprise.

“I want to,” I whisper, need spreading through me at the feel of him under me, the smell of his arousal and mine wafting through the air, making me dizzy. “I’m trying to make it feel better, remember?”

I roll my hips, ever so slightly, and the electricity that shocks through my clit at the contact makes me gasp. Rhysand grunts, a low, heady sound, and the way he lifts his hips up to dig his cock into me is almost desperate.

“Cauldron,” He curses as I dig my fingers into his wound, the metal sharp and hot against my fingertips as I try and get leverage around it. His face twists but when I rock my hips again, dragging down his length, his pain dissolves into something carnal. “Cauldron, Y/N-“

“There we go,” I whisper, my fingers gripping around the arrowhead firmly, twisting it a few inches higher so that it protrudes out of his chest. I bite my lip to contain any sounds as I rut against him, my underwear and trousers soaked through, seeping into Rhysand’s slacks, making it easier to rub over his twitching length. “I’ve got it!”

He moans- the most erotic, lewd sound rumbles from him, low and loud, echoing through the room. I pant as he runs his hands over my body, over my thighs and hips and waist, kneading my stomach and love handles, before settling over my ass.

His nails carve crescent moons into the flesh as he palms me, the control he was so used to wielding in the bedroom not dwindling as he guided me back and forth faster and harder against him.

"This is the best pain I've ever felt, darling," Rhysand purrs, his voice like melted chocolate against my senses and the fire burning between my legs fans at his words. I lean forward, my breasts brushing his chest and my stomach settling against his- and I run my free hand over his sprawled wings.

"I'm going to pull it out now, yeah?" I mumble against his cheek, and I know his head is spinning, the pain and pleasure so at odds, so damning that his canines flash at me, his fingers bruising against my ass and his hips jolting up violently to meet mine.

“Do it, daring,” He commands, the role of the High Lord imprinted into him no matter the situation and almost as if it were programmed in me to obey, I kiss his cheek tenderly- and yank the arrowhead free in one go. “Shit, shit-“

I drag my centre over the tip of his cock, rolling my hips in fast, sharp strokes and Rhysand crumbles at the action- his eyes screw shut, his body stills like stone, and the filthiest, rawest cry tears from his lips, louder and fragmented when I rub at the tip of his talon with my palm.

I whimper at the feel of every hard inch of him cemented against me, the warmth of his hot seed leaking out and soaking his slacks, mixing our arousals, getting messier the more I rub against him.

“Y/N,” He moans my name into the crook of my neck, his teeth scraping against my pule point and his hands curling around my ass, forcing my hips to stop. Instead, he clamps my body flush to his, my tits pressed to his chest, my face buried in his soft hair, and I feel his cock pulsing and tremoring hard against me as he rides out his orgasm.

I feel Rhysand laugh roughly against my neck, the sound of his ragged breathing and the erratic rise and fall of his muscular chest against me making me sigh. His hands don’t loosen, in fact, they get tighter, guiding me until I’m laying flat, his arms wrapping over me and keeping me to his chest.

He was holding me like he didn’t want to let go.

There’s a long silence as I lay with him, our bodies melting together and his touch unrelenting upon me, holding onto my flesh for dear life, feeling me against him and sighing at the comfort. His breathing starts to deepen, turning heavy and I blink, shifting to move my weight off him.

“Don’t,” He grumbles, his arms drawing me back to his chest, a deep groan escaping him as he shifts so that my body slips between the gap of the sofa and his side. His eyes flutter closed again, and I watch his face ease into serenity as I lay my cheek against his shoulder.

“Stay with me.”

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @satellitesunshine @queenofangrymoths @highlady-ofillyria @ladespedidas @magical-mischief-makers @lyracarvahall @ummmmmwat @eerievixen @bitchyinternetinfluencer @meritxellao @rachelnicolee @fanfictioniseverything @queen-of-arda @magdalenka @bunnymallowo @azzydaddy @fanboyluvr @maddithefangirl @jeannineee @fakelust @whatthefuckshappeningrn @honeycriess @cheneyq @brujitafantomatico

A/N:

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

Should I make a part two??? part two here

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months

Note

Any chance you could do a famous single mum reader x Harry fic

since he’s a certified MILF lover

CRUSH

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: Harry has been into you for way too long, but you haven't given him a chance. You run into each other at the Grammy's afterparty and you finally tell him why you're so adamant about keeping your distance.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry will forever remember tonight.

It’s his second time going home as a Grammy winner and nothing can ruin this experience for him, not even how his performance was ruined. He did it again and nothing else matters for now.

Or at least that’s how he should be feeling as he is celebrating with his friends and other winners and artists at the after party, but something keeps bugging him.

Just hours earlier he ran into you again and he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since then. It’s no surprise you were at the award show, even though you’re not a singer he could have expected to run into you at one of the most important nights of the year. Yet, he was still surprised to see you walk down the red carpet, but it might have been because you always have that effect on him no matter what.

If someone asked Harry who his celebrity crush was he would say you with no hesitation or remorse. He’s been enamored with you since the first time he met you at some other after party a few years ago. The two of you were introduced by a mutual friend and he stuck to your side for as long as possible, drinking up every word, every laughter and every look you gifted him with. He thought you were way out of his league, he still does, but that doesn’t stop him from yearning after you like a lovesick puppy every time your paths cross. Harry can’t tell how many times he tried to flirt with you before, but his flirty comments were met with soft rejection every time, you never seemed to be returning the gentle feelings and though it was devastating, he knew he could do nothing.

He could at least call you his friend, more or less. He definitely has a tither connection with you than with most people in this room, there’s a bigger circle of friends you both share so you end up meeting every few months without planning it and there are periods when you’re even texting.

He hasn’t talked to you for a while now, so seeing you brought his feelings back he’s been harboring for so long.

Now as he’s sipping on his drink he can’t help but keep looking around, trying to spot you in the crowd to no avail for now. He pulls out his phone and opens the message thread with you, rereading the last few texts he exchanged with you a while back. His thumb hovers over the screen, fighting the urge to hit you up with a message when an elbow meets his side. Looking up he sees Mitch beside him.

“Your crush is here,” he informs Harry with a knowing smirk, nodding towards the bar.

He follows his friend’s gaze and spots you only seconds later. You’ve changed out of your burgundy gown he saw you wearing earlier, sporting a chic pant suit this time, but you’re just as breathtaking as ever.

Mitch just chuckles when Harry gets up without a word and heads over to you. Pushing between guests he ignores everyone who might try to strike a conversation up with him until he finally reaches you.

“Y/N, hi!” he smiles at you warmly. You turn to face him with a cocktail in your hands, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Harry! What a nice surprise!” you chuckle. “Congrats on your wins!” You don’t hesitate to put an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug that he returns gladly.

“Thank you.”

“Though it was no surprise you won, the album is amazing.”

“You listened to it?”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“Hmm, probably… Satellite.”

“Great choice.”

The conversation keeps flowing and suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you even though it’s a crowded party that’s happening around you. Harry realizes that no matter how much time passes between each time he sees you, he will always catch himself falling for you over and over again. He tries to flirt with you this time as well and this is the first time he can feel like his rizz is not going straight over your head.

“Y/N, I need you to be very honest with me,” he starts, when you both had a few drinks. Neither of you is drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“About what?” you chuckle.

“Do I have a chance with you? For real, I’m not playing here,” he smirks, placing one hand to his chest, while holding up the other one, his half empty glass rising into the air.

You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you busy yourself with your own drink.

“Ah, it hurts!” he acts as if he was shot in the chest. “Am I that ugly and boring?”

“Of course, you’re not!” you roll your eyes.

“Okay, do you like me?”

“I do,” you admit, avoiding to look him in the eyes.

“Alright, then let’s take this conversation over to my place.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head.

“We can go to yours as well, I’m fine with that too,” Harry half jokes, but he notices that you’re not laughing. “Y/N, what is it then?”

“I need to get some air.” Jumping to your feet you leave your drink behind and head out to the back of the place that’s the smoking area, hoping to be alone for a bit, but Harry rushes after you, determined to get answers this time.

He finds you in a dark corner, your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out into the void.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I went too far, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s… fine.”

“I just… fuck, I really like you. A lot. I can’t stop thinking about you and… I couldn’t just not shoot my shot.”

“You’ve been shooting your shot for a long time.” He finally sees a tiny smile on your lips.

“So you did notice my attempts?” he grins. “Just chose to ignore them, I guess?”

“Harry, I can’t.”

“Can’t ignore them anymore?”

“No. I can’t date you.”

“Can’t as in…?”

Sighing, your head falls back, against the wall as you close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them and finally looking at him.

“I don’t date.”

“Why?”

“Because of Arian.”

The picture is finally crystal clear in Harry’s head. You’re depriving yourself from dating because of your son.

It’s no news to Harry that you’re a mother, he has even met your five year-old son, but he never thought of him as the reason why you keep rejecting him. You keep your private life pretty hush hush, especially since you split from your ex, Arian’s father three years ago. No one knows why you called it quits and there’s actually no photo of the little boy online either, that’s how dedicated you are to protect him from the public. Harry completely understands it, but he doesn’t see why you can’t date because of Arian.

“The little guy doesn’t want to share you with anyone else?” he tries to joke.

“I’m a single mother who is also an actress. My life is complicated enough without dates and boyfriends.”

“Woah, we’re only talking about one boyfriend,” Harry puts his hands to his chest. You crack a smile, but it’s not as genuine as he would want it to be.

“It’s just not the right time for me to start dating again. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a little hurt you’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’m sure dating a single mother is not exactly your dream either.”

“Y/N, I haven’t even thought about it until you brought it up. Arian is a cool little guy and I have no problem with you being a mother.”

“You will at one point, trust me,” you scoff and Harry tries not to take it personal. You’re just trying to protect yourself and your son, it’s not against him.

“What if I prove that it’s fine? That I’m not just some random guy who will come and go?”

Staring back at him you chew on his words as you tilt your head to the side.

“We’ll see.”

At first the peace and quiet takes over your waking mind. You feel a gentle breeze from the window you left open for the night and you stretch long underneath the silky covers when it finally dawns on you.

It’s peaceful. And quiet. You haven’t had a morning like this in about… well, five years. Arian loves to wake you up whenever you’re home, jumping on the mattress, or just cuddling to you, either way, he never misses a chance to spend a morning with you.

So where is he now?

Slight panic rushes through your veins as you quickly wrap yourself in your silky robe and head out to find your baby. All the worst case scenarios flash through your mind, but they dissolve the moment you reach the stairs and hear his laughter coming from the kitchen. With careful steps you approach the source of his voice that’s mixed with another one, a more mature male voice that you don’t recognize at first but when you round the corner and see what’s happening in your kitchen, recognition washes over you.

Harry Styles is making pancakes in your kitchen with your son. And they are making a big mess, but Arian seems to be enjoying it. Music is playing in the background and there’s a ginormous bouquet of flowers on the kitchen island. Your heart flutters in your chest as you walk closer.

“Mommy!” Arian notices you and climbing off his stool he runs over to you and you gladly pick him up into your arms.

“Hey baby, what’s… what’s happening here?”

“Harry is making us pancakes!” He throws his hands up into the air in excitement as you walk over to the kitchen island and sit him down on top of it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he smiles at you so charmingly, it’s hard to focus on the fact that he is in your house on a Saturday morning.

“Hi, what do you… Um, what are you doing here?”

“Mommy, I told you, he is making us pancakes!” Arian giggles.

“I know, baby. Hey, you’re still in your pajamas, why don’t you go up and change?” You help him off the counter and gently push him towards the stairs. He runs off singing to himself.

“Before you throw me out,” Harry starts, holding the spatula up, “You told me to prove it.”

“Prove what?”

“That it’s fine that you’re a mom. So, this is our first date, in your house, with your son, so you don’t have to worry about him or get a babysitter.”

“How did you even get into my house?” you chuckle in disbelief. You’re definitely touched by the gesture, you don’t like to spend time away from Arian when you’re not working.

Grinning, he starts flipping the pancakes in the pan.

“Well, I might or might not have contacted your agent who hooked me up with your housekeeper who let me in this morning.”

“Wow, my own staff betrayed me,” you chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say betrayed. They both were happy to help me, because they want what’s best for you.”

“And that would be you?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at his cockiness. He shrugs, but his smirk tells it all.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the stove off. “I really did mean it. I don’t care that you’re a mom. It’s all good, it’s part of you. I don’t want to just come and go in your and Arian’s life. Just give me a chance to prove that it could work.”

He must have some kind of magic power over you, because he really just waltzed in here, made some pancakes and convinced you to change your mind.

“Arian will always come first for me, Harry.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” he nods.

“That means that even in my limited free time, you’ll most likely have to share me with him. I’m not the type to let nannies and babysitters raise my child.”

“And I love that about you. Arian is lucky to have you as his mother.”

Staring back at him you want to say no, but you simply can’t. It’s impossible.

“Okay,” is all you say.

“Okay as in… You’ll give me a chance?”

“Yes, but don’t fuck it up,” you chuckle as Harry walks closer and his hands find your waist, pulling you closer. It’s the first time he is physically this close to you, but it feels like he’s been doing it since forever, like you belong in his arms.

“Never,” he smirks and as he leans closer you hear a pair of tiny feet running down the stairs, so you step back just in time for Arian’s return.

“Give me the pancakes!” he giggles, climbing up to a stool and you smile at Harry.

“See, he is already cockblocking you,” you whisper to him chuckling.

“Touché,” he sighs with a smirk. “But he is cute, so it’s alright.” Shaking it all off he turns to Arian as he places the pancakes on a plate. “So, what do you want on top?”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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22back · 8 months

Text

Adam was the last person you expected to see in your hotel room right before your wedding, you guessed your future wife had let him since she never refused anything he demanded of her, he had made himself comfortable in the room, with a drink in his hand and a smirk when you walked in.

“Ugh hey Adam, this room isn’t for guests the ceremony is at th-“

He cut you off before you could finish “obviously I know this room isn’t for guests since I’m the only one here, I thought I’d do you a favor and have this conversation with you alone, since this might be your wedding day and all that”

Your mind starts to race, you’ve been avoiding being alone with Adam since you’ve known about him, afraid what he might say to you, embarrassed both of you knew he was fucking your fiancé before you met her and still is.

“Oh well I guess that’s nice of you thanks, what did you wanna talk to me about?”

“You never asked for my blessing to marry Amy did you”

“Well I never thought I would need your blessing to marry her”

“Well you’re fucking mistaken, you knew she’s been riding my dick for 3 years now, Amy is a good fuck, obedient, doesn’t complain and she got you to do all the boyfriend shit so she doesn’t bother me with that shit, and you know she wouldn’t marry you if I told her not to right? You realize that?”

You were confused by the conversation and how comfortable he was telling you all this about the woman you’re supposed to marry in an hour, but you also knew he was right, Amy would call off the wedding the second he tells her to, you had to find a way to save yourself from all this embarrassment.

“You’re right Adam, you’ve been here before me and I should’ve asked it slipped my mind, but please don’t do this, I love Amy and want to marry her more than anything please give me your blessing Adam”

His smile gets bigger “I knew you’d know the right thing to do, you’re a good cuck, and the bitch can do worse than you so I’ll tell you what, she told me how much you make, 50% of that will be transferred to me every month and I’ll let you go through with this thing”

50% of your income is a lot of money, you start to consider it for a second but you realize you can’t let yourself be humiliated in front of all your friends and family.

“Yes, okay, I can do that”

“Smart move”

You realize how desperate you must’ve sounded because he starts to push even further.

“Make sure you don’t miss a month cuz I’ll be quick to make that call, considering how generous I’m being with you, you’re gonna address me as Sir from now on”

You nod your head thinking about the possibility of losing your wife.

“Alright, thank you and I’m sorry for not asking for your blessing before” you say trying to calm him down and get the day to go smoothly.

“That’s not how you thank and apologize to a man” he said and he extends his barefoot to you, he doesn’t need to tell you what to do, you know what you have to do to keep your wife, you get on your knees, kiss his feet and say “thank you Sir”

“Good boi, I’ll send Amy tonight when I’m done emptying my cum in her”

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literaila · 1 year

Text

this is alarming

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary: you consider yourself a generally unlucky person, but when you meet peter parker it becomes even more apparent that the universe hates you.

warnings: mean peter, mean reader, coworkers, angst (?), working, jameson

a/n: this is part one because i wrote 10k and decided that tumblr wasn’t going to put up with me any more. next part will be out later tonight, or tomorrow.

you always set seven alarms in the morning.

it's often that your alarm clock falls behind the nightstand, often that you shut it off without a moments notice--eyes closed, dreaming dreams you can never remember. it's often that you don't hear anything at all.

only the sound of a groan escaping your mouth when you pick up your phone and see that you're two hours late for work.

the first alarm is to be snoozed; almost an hour and a half before you need to wake up.

the second alarm is for the dreams to muffle, to hear the sound but pretend that it's only a figment of your imagination.

the third is for stirring.

the fourth is to open your eyes and feel some haze snap them immediately shut. if you can't open your eyes, why should you even bother to wake up?

the fifth is for shivering into the covers. your temperature hasn't regulated, and if your bed wasn't so welcoming, you probably wouldn't still be in it.

it's usually by then that you've pushed the alarm clock off of your nightstand, and that it rests under the bed, collecting dust.

you've tried moving it to the other side of the room, but even seven alarms weren't enough to get you up.

so there it remains, ready to be picked up whenever you are graced with the opportunity to really notice it.

the sixth alarm is to think. wonder to yourself what you're supposed to be doing right now, if you need to shower, smell your own sweat from restless sleeping, and consider the possibility of never waking up at all.

you usually get caught in these thoughts, and your eyes still don't want to open.

the seventh alarm is the one you get up to if you're lucky. it's the one that pushes you out of the bed, onto the floor and laughs when it sees the bruises you have from falling.

and it doesn't really matter when you wake up, or when you get to work.

there's a bitter taste in your mouth, and it's not just morning breath.

it usually rains on the days you walk to work, and conveniently you've never really learned how to open an umbrella properly--proven by the stack of broken ones you keep hidden somewhere in a closet--so there's no hiding from the drizzle of the sky.

sometimes you wonder if the earth is mad at you. if whatever deity controls all of this thinks that you're making a mistake.

a mistake every time you wake up in the morning, and suddenly feel the courage to move your limbs.

it doesn't matter though. you have an extra pair of clothes in the ridiculously large bag you always carry around.

there might be a first aid kit in there, a water bottle, a lighter, and many other things that you only realize you need when you don't have them.

your relationship with this bag is the longest one you've ever had. and it's beginning to fray at the edges, not unnoticed by you.

still, as soon as you get to work--only fifteen minutes late--you hide in one of the bathroom stalls, cursing when you accidentally drop your clean clothes onto the floor.

you try not to think about bacteria, or who's walked in this bathroom before you.

and if you weren't already late--and if you cared a little bit more--you might try and deal with your hair, but today, you settle for dripping it out over the sink and ignoring the woman who walks by behind you, giving you a look you can't miss in the mirror.

you ignore all of it, at this point.

when you got this job as an editor at the bugle--known for crazy conspiracy theories and adamant headlines, or pictures of spider-man--there was only one desk available.

it's hidden in a little alcove of the space. a corner you have just to yourself--and it would be nice, you're sure, if there was any actual lighting or an outlet that worked anywhere within the eight-foot vicinity. and also if the ceiling would quit leaking almost right above your desk.

you didn't complain when betty showed you it on your first day. you figured that after ten job interviews and six very strange first days, you didn't have any room left to complain. and you wouldn't be surprised if this only lasted three days.

but it was supposed to be safer than stocking shelves at target--which, coincidentally, had no more shelves--or passing out flyers for local offices in the middle of the street. or even working at annie's flowers where everything was supposed to be beautiful and nurturing, but you were pretty sure you still needed stitches from all the thorn pricks you'd endured.

this was an office job. this was reading and writing and hoping to avoid the available eyes of everyone else--or a helicopter crash into the side of the building.

what could go wrong, you'd thought, smiling at betty and thanking her for showing you around.

and then you grabbed the nearest file on the desk, stained with something that looked like tears. you never said a word about your desk or the discomforting smell that came from the exposed pipes on the wall.

you'd managed to last seven months at bugle, so far. seven months of laughing at grammatical errors and wincing at headlines with puns that even you couldn't have come up with.

you fixed things and stayed out of everyone's way.

and then you went home, running to avoid the rain, or trying to catch the subway before it left.

you sat on the couch and watched the news, eating a sandwich or whatever you could find in the fridge that hadnt already rotted.

you hadn't put the pictures up, and you didn't think you were going to. even though you'd been living in this apartment for more than a year, and it had been three since any of that mattered.

you were lucky to have this life, you reminded yourself. and you sat at your tiny desk, reading about fates that were far worse than yours.

there were at least twenty pairs of eyes on you when you opened the door. the hinges squeaked as you closed it, and you almost squeaked when you realized that everyone else--everyone--was already in there.

all sitting down, all giving you confused looks.

and you swore that the email about this mandatory "morale" meeting--an excuse for jameson to talk about failures for the month--said eight-thirty.

you were absolutely sure of it.

but as you lean against the wall because there aren't any chairs left, after whispering a soft apology, it was clear that you were very wrong.

or maybe you'd been sent a typo that no one else received. or they forgot to put you on the forward list again, and there was no way for you to know that the time had changed to eight.

or maybe you just couldn't read.

it didn't matter, because after about fifteen seconds, the lecture resumed and the eyes left your sullen and guilty face.

you couldn't listen to anything else you were supposed to be paying attention to for the next thirty minutes.

your feet ached, and your head hurt, and every two minutes your stomach grumbled. and then you were thinking about breakfast. you were thinking about quitting this job so you didn't have to see any of these people ever again.

and whatever jameson was ranting about, it probably didn't apply to you.

still, it got worse when you began to doze off--who knew drywall could be so comfortable--only to wake up to people passing you, pushing you with glares in their eyes.

"hey, cathy," you nodded, giving her a reckless smile and waving. you’d never shared a proper conversation with the older woman. you definitely did not hear her scoff as she walked by.

and as soon as the crowd of your coworkers had cleared the room, you were sighing, hand to your head, and then promptly tripping over a leg of a chair someone didn't push in.

a hand wrapped around your shoulder, awkward and warm, as someone pulled you toward them, keeping you from falling.

"are you sick?" a rough, low voice whispered, not quite in your ear but not quite far enough away for you to feel comfortable.

with the grace of a drunk elephant, you attempted to stand on your own two feet, trying to find your balance without flailing your arms.

"what?" you croak out, trying to laugh this furious heat off of you.

"you came in late, and now you're falling over. also, you feel a little warm."

"i thought the meeting started at eight-thirty, and there was a chair," you say to this man, pushing the damn chair back in. "plus--" and then you look up.

peter parker, with his signature furrowed brows and lip bite, stands there, looking at you.

well, that explains the heat.

"oh, um--" you scratch at the back of your neck, going for a pleasant smile. "hey, peter. thanks for... not letting me split my head open."

"do you want me to call you a cab?"

"why?"

"you don't have a car right?" peter says, eyes clearly saying are you serious?

"i-- no?"

"you probably shouldn't walk home then. you're already having trouble standing.”

you blink. "i'm really not sick," you tell him, trying to sound stern or serious or anything but flustered. "it was an accident."

he holds intense eye contact with you, barely blinking. "you sure?"

you nod. it doesn't feel necessary to tell him that this happens a lot.

"okay. well, jameson wanted me to talk to you about the jenson project. which he wants us to do together."

"oh. how come?"

"apparently 'partner work' is a strong selling point. i'd just send you some pictures to fit into an article. you'd have to--" he purses his lips.

"mess with them?" you ask, trying to be helpful.

"sure. jameson said he wants it to be nice and shiny for next weeks release. i thought maybe we could work on adding the pictures together, just so i know if i need to change anything."

"like photoshop?"

peter nods. "or if there's anything you have questions about. i was there taking the photos so i got a lot of the interview too."

"yeah, okay. i'm just working on a couple of footnotes for this week right now, so i'm not sure when i can--"

"how's thursday?"

you try not to flinch at his tone. certain but soft. his eyes, you think, might be the most terrifying thing you've ever seen up close.

clearly, peter is not very interested in any of this. or maybe he's a strict rule follower and is holding a grudge against your lack of punctuality.

"thursday works," you tell him, dropping your somewhat regular smile.

"great. we can work at your desk or mine, it doesn't matter to me. or we can go get coffee to escape the office for a couple hours. just let me know."

and then he's walking away, pushing in a chair as he goes with a look back to you, and you've barely even comprehended what he just said.

or the fact that he didn't let you answer him.

"okay," you say, in a whisper, but you're just talking to the wall.

last to come, you think, and last to leave.

here's the thing about peter parker. he's not known for being the friendliest of coworkers.

he's pleasant enough, gets all his work done, doesn't snap at people when they make mistakes and doesn't finish the coffee in the breakroom without brewing another pot.

and since you've been there, you've learned--mostly from eavesdropping--that he's been working here for three years. that he's taken lead photographer out of many qualified candidate's hands and only responded with a smirk. that he's supposed to be a genius, comes into work with bruised knuckles sometimes--which your coworkers gossip endlessly about--and jameson is either constantly praising the man, or degrading him.

he doesn't go to office parties, he doesn't respond to emails. peter practices something you like to call "every man for himself."

and he doesn't ever smile.

trust that you should know. because, you'll admit, when you first got there, it was hard not to notice peter.

first of all, he's very tall, strong, and kind of brooding. he takes up fifty percent of the office space alone.

but he's also insanely attractive. blessed with thick hair and glorious eyebrows and cheekbones that put knives to shame. his eyes are soft and his lips are plump and he is a certified asshole.

or at least something like it, everyone knows. including you.

but for at least the first two weeks you couldn't avoid staring at his pursed lips or snorts when someone said something particularly obnoxious--usually jameson--or the way he tapped his wrist incessantly, like he was counting down time.

peter parker makes for a very suitable work distraction.

but as soon as you talked to him for the first time, you realized that he was a pretty, intelligent man.

you'd stumbled into the breakroom and dropped whatever semblance of a lunch you were going to pretend to eat that day, and peter was sitting at one of the tables watching.

he didn't have anything to eat, just a cup of coffee and a bitter look on his face.

you'd smiled sheepishly, picking up your now tarnished food, and swallowing. "i wasn't that hungry anyway," you'd said aloud, mostly because you weren't thinking clearly at the time.

peter didn't say anything back, not acknowledging the sarcasm or your lost lunch, he just stared.

and then you held a hand out to him. "hi, i don't think i've introduced myself. i'm y/n, a new editor."

peter blinked, looking at your hand, then back to your face. "peter," he said, giving you a small wave.

and then he turned his attention back to the mug in front of him, leaving your hand in the air, radiating embarrassment.

you cleared your throat and left the room, deciding to get more work done instead of worrying about it.

you'd sort of assumed--recklessly--that he would be charming. that he might smile at you, welcome you to the team, tell you that if you needed anything he was there. maybe it was his face, you'd thought. soft and knowing.

but peter wasn't there for anything but the money, and gradually, he became just another grim coworker, watching the clock until five every day.

and that was probably good for you anyway, because as angry or numb as peter already was, you didn't want to inflict anything bad on him, as you might've if he'd just smiled at you.

and if you overheard the clique of middle age ladies talking about him during lunch, you didn't say anything. didn't smile or laugh, or try to pretend like you weren't listening.

you kept your conversations with him short and tried to stay out of his way.

but apparently, he was going to get in yours.

you really don't even notice him when he walks up to your desk.

it's not your fault that you didn't get much sleep last night, being that your neighbors--right next to your bedroom--were fighting all night long. slamming doors and throwing things that shattered when they hit the floor.

and then they'd start screaming again.

you'd attempted to drown them out, only just barely dozing off when some other loud noise would wake you right back up.

you'd considered putting your headphones in and playing white noise, but with your luck, that would last all night into the next day, and your seven alarms would be pointless.

so you laid there, trying not to eavesdrop on the fight they were having, or think about your own voice yelling, screaming, and then going completely silent.

and now, you were nursing a cup of coffee, blinking at the computer screen like it was a puzzle.

and peter had come up to your desk--made the effort to venture almost across the office to your little cave--and you didn't see him there.

you didn't see anything until he cleared his throat, tapping his foot against the floor like an angry mother, and you finally looked up.

looked up to threatening eyes and a frown.

and peter parker, because of course he was there, at this very moment.

"hi, peter. what-- what's up?"

he blinks at you. you blink back, though significantly slower.

in the past two days, you had avoided any and all eye contact with him and accidentally forgot to look at the email he had sent you with some files attached. you also conveniently learned that jameson was disappointed with his last set of pictures, and that was probably why he'd forced the two of you to work together.

it didn't really matter.

"it's thursday," peter answers, dryly, after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

you look away, searching for any other person that could talk to him instead of you. "was that a question?"

"we have a date," he says, a bit harsher.

you couldn’t avoid leaning back at his voice, nor noticing the wince that fell upon his face as soon as he said it.

"er," peter clears his throat. "we're supposed to work on the jenson article today. are--do you have amnesia?"

"huh?"

"or some other medical condition," peter continues, "that would cause you to forget about the one article you have to edit this week?"

briefly, you want to ask how he knew that it was your only article, and why he was allowed to judge your work ethic when his was "consume coffee like blood and scare away any person who tries to speak."

you try not to laugh at the idea of vampire peter.

instead, you mumble "just a severe mental deficiency," under your breath and pinch the skin of your thigh, just to wake you up some more.

"what?" peter says, still frowning at you.

you sigh. "look, peter, i'm sorry. i haven't even looked at the article yet, or any of your pictures. i've been busy. but if you just want me to finish it myself i can--"

peter holds a hand up, telling you to stop without asking nicely.

you almost scowl at the very idea of it.

"no," he says, like it physically pained him to do so. "i need this--jameson wanted us to work through it together. as an actual collaboration."

you're very grateful that he's explaining this to you.

"i'm not going to tell him," you say, voice rough.

"you can read it and figure out where you want the pictures and the description for them while i edit some of them. i was rushing when i did it last week."

"um... okay. are you sure?"

"we can't work here," peter responds, instead of answering the question. "there's barely enough room for just you."

"...yeah."

"my desk is a mess," peter says, more to himself. "we can go to the coffee shop a block away."

you squint at him. "are you sure? 'cause we could always go to the starbucks on fifteenth, or we could just skip it and head to tipsy's."

you're just briefly aware that your sarcasm is not coming across well, and that you probably shouldn't have said that, nonetheless to peter parker, who already hates you enough.

to be fair, he hasn't asked you about any of these decisions.

"i'm going to go get my bag," peter grinds out. "i'll meet you by the elevator."

the only thing keeping you sane while you sit across from peter is the latte that you've been chugging for the past three minutes.

as soon as you got there, peter had ordered some tea that you didn't know the name of, picking the table for the both of you, and before you could even sit down he was frowning at his computer.

he hasn't bothered to say anything to you, so you don't bother to say anything to him.

still, you look up every couple of minutes, wondering what he could possibly be so worried about.

luckily--ha--this article is reasonably proofread. you only have to fix a couple of jumbled sentences and reread a couple of paragraphs because you can't really focus.

it's about half an hour after you've both been working that you get tired of it.

collaborating with peter by staring at your computer and hoping that the pleasantries, or nice relationship you've been craving for the past six months will manifest itself into existence.

he's right there, you think to yourself, and he's an ass sometimes but so are you.

and it's not like you get the opportunity to talk to a lot of people at work.

you clear your throat. "the pictures are good," you tell him as if this is new information.

you've known about peter's affiliation with photography since your second day.

the man just grumbles out a thanks, not even bothering to look up and acknowledge you.

you have a tight smile on your face. "are you still editing them, or can i start asking you where you think they should go?"

"you finished already?"

there's some emotion in his voice that you don't recognize, but there is still the obvious disdain that you're becoming very comfortable with.

"i'm a fast reader," you tell him. "was that a no?"

peter finally looks up, face blank. "i'll send you the updated ones. do you want me to add them in where i think they'd work, or just tell you where to do it?"

you'd really like to never have to have a one-on-one conversation with him again, but that doesn't really seem like an option right now.

"how about i put them in and you blink twice if you think it's stupid."

peter does not crack a smile. he doesn't even blink.

you try to hide another sigh. "go ahead and put them in."

and so you wait five minutes for the internet to catch up to him and silently curse jameson for subjecting you to this.

your latte is almost gone.

"okay, you can go through it," peter tells you eventually, returning to something else on his computer.

you scroll through it, beginning to write descriptions for each of the photos--which really are beautiful. and bright, almost too good for the bugle.

but you're a bit bored, and a bit delirious.

"can i ask you something?"

peter looks up at you, classic furrowed brows, and then back to his computer, grunting.

you're assuming that it means yes, but if he's not going to use his words like a big boy, then he'll have to deal with the consequences himself.

"how do you get the pictures of spider-man?"

"with my camera."

you can't tell if he's kidding or not.

"no, i mean, how do you get such good quality? he's always moving around, and quickly, so i'd assume it would be pretty difficult..."

he frowns. "it's just some angles and flash," peter answers. "honestly, it's less complicated than you think. they're not all good, i go back and edit them."

"yeah, but still."

peter shrugs, and looks down again.

"have you ever actually spoken to him?" you continue, still sizing pictures, still writing descriptions.

but you'll be damned if peter sits there in silence for another minute.

he sighs. "yeah, couple times."

"really?"

peter nods.

"is he nice?"

peter frowns. "'is he nice?'"

"yeah. i mean, i've heard lots of stories and read the articles--obviously--but i've never met him. is he... a good guy?"

"he keeps people from dying on the daily, and you're asking if he's got a good moral compass?"

you almost scowl, looking up to find brown eyes studying you. and then you shake your head. "i just find it hard to believe, i guess. i can't imagine--" you pause, shrugging. look away from peter's intimidating eyes.

"you can't imagine what?"

"just... doing that every day and being okay. i mean, he sees people get hurt all of the time, and he's supposed to be okay with that? that's a lot of mental energy. what if he's helping someone that he knows? or what if he can't help? not to mention the physical aspect..."

peter closes his computer, taking a breath. "are you good with the photos?" he asks.

"what?"

"i need to get back to the office and talk to jameson about some stuff. do you need anything else from me?"

peter is stiff and scowling. you shouldn't be surprised, but he also just shut down the first actual conversation you've ever had with him.

"oh, no. no, i'm okay. thanks."

"okay. i'll see you later."

peter packs up his stuff, and doesn't bother to look back at you while he walks out the door. you're not sure what you did this time--besides just generally existing--but you groan, hands rubbing at your eyes.

you're too tired for this. you're too exhausted to be talking to peter parker, who doesn't talk to anyone.

you sigh and look back to the article.

and then you spill what's left of your coffee, watching as it drips to the floor.

you're trying not to move.

even breathing, you think, is moving. so you hold your breath for as long as you can bare it, counting by tens, thinking about all the reasons you shouldn't need air.

but eventually, your body gasps for you.

your body moves because it can't think the same as you can, it can't hold that same guilt.

you know that if you don't move--not even a millimeter--nothing bad can happen. the dominos won't fall if there's nobody to push them over.

you're laying in bed completely still.

you're thinking about all of the mistakes you made, all of the unfortunate things you've caused to happen, and it causes enough fear to turn you to stone.

you'd be a statue. you know if you could choose that, you would.

what do you want to be when you grow up?

clay.

you'd choose being cemented in concrete than ever having to look your own luck in the eyes again.

you count by tens until you fall asleep.

and you dream of things that have already happened.

when you show up to work on monday, soaking wet, there's already a cup of coffee on your desk.

you try and think back to friday--which was lifetimes ago, really--and remember if you left it there. but you stayed in the office on friday, contemplating putting in your two weeks or throwing your computer across the room. you didn't go out for coffee.

and when you pick up this disposable cup to smell it, you can feel the steam on your face.

it's warm.

you look around the room, searching for someone who might've left this on your desk--even though you're literally hidden from every common eye--but can't find anyone who looks particularly tired this morning.

and there are only four people in the office as of now.

so you wait ten minutes, and then fifteen, ready for someone to come up to your desk at any moment and accuse you of stealing their coffee.

this would not be a surprising occurrence.

but even after twenty minutes, no one does.

you're back in your corner, alone, as per usual.

and when you realize that the coffee is going to go cold--claimed or not--you decide to take a sip.

and for the first time in a while, you've started the day off alright.

on tuesday, jameson calls you and peter into his office.

and, out of nothing less than familiarity, you're ready to be yelled at. you've prepared a list of snarky remarks to keep you from crying.

and you're completely, one hundred percent ready to ignore peter.

if he doesn't like working with you, fine. that's up to him--even though you definitely did a good job with his pictures. and if he doesn't even like you, fine.

you can deal with that.

what you can't deal with, of course, is standing a foot away from him in this office, feeling towered over by both of these men, who are much bigger than you.

but you keep eye contact with jameson anyway. what else can go wrong?

"i heard we were having some issues with the article last week," the boss starts, his voice typically unserious.

you furrow your brows and try not to look at peter.

he tattled on you?

"yes," you say, instead of admitting defeat. "i was behind on editing the article, so it took a little longer than expected. but i emailed you the finished copy on thursday night."

you don't mention that it was exactly one in the morning, and you'd been having twenty-minute naps since you got home.

or that peter had completely unnerved you.

"parker?"

peter sighs, shrugging. "it gave me more time to go over the pictures. we got it in."

at that, jameson smiles.

you wonder if he finds peter's grumpiness as amusing as you do. or if he's just enjoying the two of you struggle to completely ignore the other.

"good. well, seeing as it worked out--and it's some of the best work i've seen from both of you--i'd like to make it a regular arrangement."

finally, you glance over at peter, noticing his jaw clench.

you're not sure if it's at jameson's suggestion or his praise.

"it's a brilliant idea, having the photographer and editor working together. parker, you've got some fine pictures, but you're no writer. and obviously, she is."

you don't tell him that you feel anything but.

jameson chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. "i know, i know, it's more work for both of you. and more interaction. but it's only one article a week. everything else will remain the same."

"for how long?" peter asks, for the both of you.

"until one of you quits, i guess. or dies."

it's at this point that you see that there are no other options. no choices for you to consider. if peter wants to quit, he certainly can. he could get a job anywhere he wanted, any newspaper.

but you've struggled to keep this job. you've struggled to be anywhere for more than a month.

and despite how much you might dread the place, it's also an escape from everything else.

so you can't leave. and you have no current plans to die.

"alright, you can both go. shut the door on the way out. and one of you ask betty to get me a cup of coffee."

you follow peter out, looking at the muscles in his back tense.

and when you shut the door, he turns toward you.

he looks even angrier, even worse than he had last week. he's not even trying to remain professional.

"thursday?" he asks, but you know it's not a question.

"fine."

you go back to your desk, watching the ceiling leak onto your computer.

peter decides to go back to the coffee shop.

he orders the same tea, sits at the same table.

and he doesn't say a thing to you. he didn't even blink when you went to his desk at nine, gesturing towards the elevator.

but honestly, that's fine. you don't have anything to say to him either.

except to ask what made him hate the world so much. but you don't think he'd appreciate that.

eventually, you swallow. "so, you can put the pictures where you'd like, and then i'll write the descriptions. it'll be faster that way, and you've got a good eye."

peter nods but he doesn't answer.

"is there anything i need to know? anything important you want to add?"

"about the pictures?" peter confirms, waiting for your acknowledgment. "no. about social courtesy? definitely."

the last part is said completely under his breath, but you catch it anyway.

catch it like a rope you're hanging onto, hoping that it doesn't slip from your fingers.

"what?" you say, looking right at him. your hands are off of your computer. your hands might be around his throat in a couple of seconds.

peter furrows his brows. "what?" he repeats as if he doesn't know what he's said.

"what's your problem?"

"my problem?"

"yeah, with everyone. but especially me. peter, you don't have to like me, but i'd appreciate it if you could at least try and be professional. or talk to me about the work that we need to do."

"i don't have a problem--"

"save it. i'm sorry that jameson is making us work together, but unless you kill me, there's nothing i can do about it."

peter sighs, running a hand through his hair. "well there's something you can do about the way you get everything done," he says, quick and sharp.

"excuse me?"

"is it physically impossible for you to sit still? or show up on time, or do the work that you need to do? if i have a problem with you, it's that you're not doing anything to help me, and i don't need you."

"that's not what jameson thinks."

the words slip from your mouth, but honestly, peter deserves the wind knocked out of his chest, just like he did to you.

if karma is a thing, it's coming through.

it's just your luck that you'd get partnered with the one person that couldn't hate working any more.

"jameson doesn't even read the articles," peter scoffs, "he just sits in his office and smokes cigars and bosses everyone around--"

"then why does he want me to write your descriptions? you can't do it yourself?"

"maybe he pities you."

peter's eyes are sharp. his words are perfect.

"why would he pity me?" you ask him, "because i'm an editor?"

"because there's not a single person in the office that likes you. because disaster is attracted to you. because you can't follow directions to save your life, and you clearly have some issue with speaking up for yourself. he's probably pairing us together in some last-ditch effort to save you."

save you.

you take a breath in, tell your lungs that there's no air that they need.

there's no reason to be breathing, if you think about it.

and when you look at your hands, they're shaking. and you can't keep your eyes in one place. and you're ready to run out of there, to anywhere where peter can't follow.

you can't admit to yourself that he's right. you can't sit still, and you can't be there for much longer.

"you think you're better?" you ask him. "everyone in the office is scared of you. you don't have friends or anyone that likes you either."

peter shakes his head. "i chose that."

there's an implication there that you can't think about. there's something about his calm demeanor.

you can almost see the ghost of a smile on his face, just like everyone had said.

you don't have a choice about most things. but you know when to quit.

"peter, you can talk to jameson. you can quit, or do all of it yourself. if you want to just send me the pictures and have me edit all of it, that's fine." you stand up, shoving your computer in your bag, and trying to keep your hands steady as you pick up your latte. "but if you can't treat me like a person, or a coworker," you tell him, "then i'll talk to jameson myself.”

and then, without waiting for a response, you walk out the door.

you try not to let it hit you on the way out.

peter avoids you the next day.

or maybe you're avoiding him.

luckily, he's gone most of the time, taking pictures and sulking in corners where you don't have to watch.

jameson hasn't said anything about the article you submitted, and you're trying to assume that it's a good thing.

but honestly, none of it feels good anymore.

you know that you shouldn't let someone like peter parker get under your skin, but he has some iron grip on your brain. some cave built in your head, echoing the things he said to you yesterday.

nobody likes you.

disaster is attracted to you.

it's in your nature to prove him wrong, somehow. to start gossiping with the other ladies in the office, maybe even ask one of the men out on the date--though none of them are as tall, or as pretty as peter parker, so it probably wouldn't matter to him anyway.

you think about talking to jameson, tell him that you and peter can't work together, or that peter is an asshole, or that you would like a raise.

you think about blackmailing peter, but you have nothing on him. (besides his obvious attitude problem).

you want to do anything to prove to yourself that what he said isn't true.

people can like you, and you can like yourself.

but you know, that even if peter is just an asshole, bitter, and lots of other things you don't care to think about, he's also right.

at least about one thing.

disaster is attracted to you. and to the people you care about.

cared.

you wish you could tell peter that all of those things he thinks about you aren't by choice. that you don't want to live in your cave of a desk, and you don't want to show up late to anything, or trip on chairs, or walk in the rain.

but he'd probably just laugh.

and anyway, he isn't there on friday. so you can't tell him any of it.

on monday, it only takes two alarms to wake you up.

and typically, you'd be proud of that. grateful for it.

but it's cold outside, and you have to go to work.

you'd rather be sleeping.

rather be laying in bed than thinking about peter, or anyone else pitying you. rather do anything than think about peter and still recognize that he's smart and talented and better than you.

so you leave your alarm clock under the bed.

what are sick days for, if not days like this?

on tuesday, you get to work early. it's not by choice, but you were running in the rain.

you were trying to beat everyone there so that you might not have to speak to a single person all day.

that would be nice.

but someone is already there when you walk through the elevator doors, jacket still dripping.

and that someone doesn't even look up, or bother to wonder where the water is coming from.

of course, peter beat you there.

you've never loved your desk, but it's a welcome refuge now, despite how bad it smells. you can't see him, and he can't see you.

and you can take your jacket off over there.

but when you sit down, there's something on your desk that you don't recognize.

a blue hairbrush, and a candy bar next to it, wrapper somewhat wrinkled.

on tuesday, you decide that you're officially going crazy.

you try to avoid wednesday as a whole. thinking of it more as another object in your way, and something that can be ignored until it's over.

and it works, for the most part. you eat lunch at your desk, bring coffee from home, and sneak handfuls of chocolate whenever you feel like it.

you go through a thousand articles and decide that all of your coworkers are illiterate.

which you don't really mean, but prefer to think anyway.

it's about an hour before you can get home that you see the notification show up in your mail.

a new message, most likely some coupon for h&m.

but you see peter's name at the top, and a file attached to it. you stare at it for at least a minute.

it could be a hate note, a notification about submitting an hr claim, a picture of a house burning with a description of "this will be you." or even a list of people that peter hates, with your name in bold.

there are a thousand possibilities, and you don't care about a single one.

but when you click on the link, you just open a pdf with new pictures, labeled with the title of the article for the week.

and you're not sure what any of that is supposed to mean.

on thursday, peter is at your desk again.

in fact, he's at your desk before you are. and when you see the back of his head peering over your pens and pencils, and files that you haven't wanted to put away, your breath stops.

he might be there to murder you.

still, you continue to walk forward, tennis shoes squeaking, and pray that you don't accidentally trip before he's even noticed you're there. if peter is going to kill you, you might as well accept your fate.

and then you step past him, frowning. "peter?"

"oh, hey," he says, softly, standing up. his hands are awkwardly clasped in front of him. "you're early."

"what're you doing here?"

"at work?"

"at my desk."

peter bites the inside of his cheek. he gestures to the ceiling. "it's leaking," is all he says.

"yeah. it rained last night. why are you here?"

"did you tell jameson about it?"

you don't know how to feel anything but shocked. is he waiting for the perfect moment? does he want you to get comfortable just so he can ruin it?

"i--no, it's fine. i don't..." you shake your head, setting your bed down. "did you need something, peter?"

he clears his throat, nodding. "are we going to work on the article today?"

you might be gawking at him.

"what?"

"i just--there are some details i want to add, if you don't mind, and i think--" he stops, taking a deep breath in. "you're better at it than me, so i'd like your advice."

there is only one thought running through your head as you stare at him.

when did peter parker get a nicer, shyer twin?

"what?" you say again, just because you don't know how to answer any other way.

in fact, some part of you thinks that this might be fake. peter parker would kill you, and then you would hallucinate a different version of him that's actually talking to you.

no trick the world might be playing on you is more surprising than the smile peter is trying to put on his face, stiff and wrong.

he blows out a breath. "i'm sorry about last week. i shouldn't--i didn't, well. i shouldn't have snapped at you. or said any of those things. and you were right about me being unprofessional and mean, and just--" peter shakes his head.

and then he meets your eyes. "i'm really sorry. i'd like to continue working with you, because jameson is right, and... but i understand if you don't want to. if you don't feel comfortable. i can talk to jameson, so you don't have to, or--"

"peter?"

he stops talking, nodding. "yeah?"

"am i hallucinating?"

you must be. you must be dying or something. you can't believe that you didn't notice until now, that you didn't pay attention to any of the signs, or worried over something stupid like what you should be eating for breakfast when--

but peter parker laughs.

it's small and almost inaudible, but he's laughing.

and it's not that laugh that first drew you to him all those months ago, that judgemental snort or the laughing-at-you-not-with-you chuckle you'd thought was adorable.

this is a genuine laugh.

you blink, because this is just another sign that you're dead.

peter sighs. "no, i mean all of it. i'm... just sorry."

"you are?"

he nods, and he's still looking at you.

"um, okay," you say, nodding your head. "yeah, we can--we'll go get coffee. but there's, um, i just have some stuff i need to finish from yesterday, so--"

"how's nine?" peter asks, softly.

and this time, it almost isn't an interruption. it's more of a saving grace.

"yes, sure. nine."

"okay," peter gives you that same fake smile, and then he turns around, leaving the cave and going back to his desk.

you can't decide if this is a good or bad thing.

"you didn't have to do that," you're saying to peter as the two of you walk to the only empty table in the shop.

conviently it's much smaller than your usual table.

"i owe you," is all peter says.

"not coffee."

"it's six dollars."

you're having a hard time deciphering his face. and his attitude.

you're wondering if this more pleasant, sweet version of peter is going to last long.

you're wondering how far you can push him.

"i don't want to be indebted to you. it sets a bad precedent."

peter sighs, and he's shaking his head, and possibly rolling his eyes, but he says: "fine. next time we come you can pay."

you're satisfied with this, at least for now, so you take a sip of your latte and open your computer.

"which descriptions do you want to add?" you ask peter, "i already looked through all the pictures."

"just the ones of the church, and the bank."

"you want to add descriptions to the burned-down buildings?"

peter doesn't seem to recognize the sarcasm, because all he does is wince and nod.

you're frowning at his face, but you agree, letting him handle your computer so that you don't have to wait for it to update.

peter takes a couple of minutes, writing details that you'd have no idea about, scowling all the while.

"when'd you take these pictures?" you ask him, in the middle of it.

"saturday before last."

"you work on the weekends?" you raise an eyebrow at him, but he's not looking.

"i carry my camera around. sometimes jameson asks for pictures that i can't get six days after."

he pushes your computer back to you, nodding. immediately you start reading what he's written, trying very hard not to laugh at some of the word choices.

most readers aren't going to respond to an acrid smell.

but you don't tell peter this, you just change it, adding and deleting words where you see fit.

"did you work at another journal before this?" peter asks, after a couple of minutes of silence.

you look up at him and realize that he might've been staring at you the whole time, and you'd have no idea. he might be texting someone about how horrible you are.

"no."

"you started writing when you got the job?"

"mm-hmm," you continue typing, trying to avoid peter's eyes.

"how'd you get so good at it, then?"

"oh, well. it's just editing, you know, not that complicated," you repeat his words back to him but feel uncomfortable at his praise, even if it is a lie, but especially if it's true.

"you're writing all of these descriptions. jameson says i make them too complicated, or unreachable for readers."

"jameson says that to betty when she puts cream in his coffee."

peter almost chuckles. "that's true."

there's a moment when you aren't sure what to say. if this is friendship, or peter pretending to be kind just so that you won't tell jameson. just so you'll keep helping him.

but he doesn't need you.

"well, you're a brilliant photographer, so you don't have a lot to make up for."

"tell jameson that."

and that third week, everything goes smoothly.

after the fourth week, you and peter don't need to plan when you're going to work together. four days of the week you are completely independent, editing articles and spinning around in your chair, and listening to jameson yell at people from across the room.

but on thursdays, you and peter are partners.

it's a regular meeting now, so you show up at the elevator at eight-fifteen and peter is already waiting there. and then you walk to the coffee shop, making small talk that isn't completely uncomfortable.

peter asks you about your plans for the weekend--though you doubt that he actually listens to the answer. and you ask him about working at the bugle for three years, about wanting to quit every day.

it's only when you mention something of the sort that you can get peter to smile, even a little.

but today, as soon as you sit down, sipping on your coffee and moving hair out of your face, peter is frowning.

but it's not his typical resting frown.

"what did you do?" he asks, staring at your forehead.

"hmm?"

"to your head. what happened?"

you touch the edge of your head, feeling the cut run up your skin, and sign. "oh. that. i fell."

peter is blinking at you like you've removed your head from your body.

you move your hair back, feeling self-conscious.

"what'd you fall on? a knife?"

it's almost a joke but peter's face is concerned, his eyes are running over yours. so you're not sure that it counts.

"i bumped my head on the corner of a table."

"and got a five-inch cut?"

you roll your eyes, realizing that neither of you has taken out your computers, or actually sat down properly. "by 'bumped' i meant tripped and fell into the table and woke up a couple minutes later feeling a bit dizzy."

peter's frown deepens. "do you have a concussion?"

you raise a brow. "no?"

he tilts his head, pursing his lips at you like you're a reckless child. "you didn't go to the doctor?"

"i washed my face and put some glue on the cut."

"it probably needs stitches."

you just shrug.

"does your head still hurt?" peter asks you. "are you having a hard time focusing? did you feel nauseous when you woke up?"

you blink, laughing just a little bit, mostly because you're confused. "whoa, dr. parker, i'm fine. it happens. i'm clumsy."

"you're reckless, you mean."

"says the man who wears converse and a t-shirt when it rains."

at that, peter has nothing left to say.

it's maybe three weeks later that the two of you have moved on.

way, way on.

bypassing the small talk stage, you now make fun of peter for being knowledgable about every single thing--to avoid showing him how impressed you are--and he teases you about your abnormaly large bag, all the while trying to give you life advice, telling you that he has more experience than you do.

he's about a year older.

and it's comfortable now. peter doesn't joke much, but when he does, you react with nothing short of a cackle. and you've finally chided a real smile out of him, even if it's just a twitch of his lip or a wrinkle of his nose.

peter doesn't complain about your tardiness or the strange way you like to get your work done, and you don't complain about his sour attitudes, and glares.

well, not much, at least.

and you're not friends--you don't think you can say that, if only because it terrifies you--but that's okay. you don't think either of you needs that, some label on a relationship that could fluctuate into something else at any minute.

but peter is there, and you don't feel like every move you make is a mistake anymore.

when jameson calls the two of you into his office to praise you about an article that did well or ridicule the two of you for slacking on an article that no one cares about--even though he chose the topic--well. you smile at peter, and he smiles at you.

and if you laugh, he laughs.

still, you notice some layer of bitterness behind peter's eyes. like he knows that he's not supposed to be here, not supposed to be laughing or smiling or working with someone that he doesn't need.

you can see it, hear it in the way he talks sometimes.

so you tread lightly, not talking much on those days, and only offering him suggestions that he can't turn down.

he never snaps at you, and you don't think he's going to.

but there's still a bit of hesitation.

and on this particular wednesday, you're crossing out some section of an article, sighing into the paper, and trying not to listen to the creaks of your chair, when peter walks up to your desk.

in his eyes is something curious, something you don't see very often.

"hello, peter. is there something i can do for you?" you exaggerate the words, sort of like a warning.

"just stopping by. wanted to make sure that our fresh meat isn't being worked too hard."

you frown. "i've worked here almost a year."

peter tilts his head, shaking it. his eyes display some fake show of shame. "ah. to be so naive."

and then, without giving you another glance, he steals a pen from your desk and walks away.

you don't know if you're supposed to call out to him.

"what is that, peter?"

he looks up from his phone, still chewing. "what?" he asks, through a mouthful of food.

"that's your lunch?"

"wanna bite?" he offers the protein bar to you.

"you're surviving on that?"

peter rolls his eyes, looking away from you. "i have a big breakfast."

something about the way he says it makes you feel like he's lying, or hiding something, but if peter wants to lie about his eating habits--you had a bagel with butter on it this morning--who are you to judge?

it's comforting to be sitting here, in this lonely breakroom, next to an actual person.

it's also a bit strange because peter had said one word to you in this very room, the day you'd met.

"do you also eat wheat and very occasionally half an egg?"

peter bites his lip. "how do you half an egg?"

"c'mon, you can have some of my lunch."

you pull out a bag of chips, a sandwich, and some assortment of fruit that had been sitting in the fridge for far too long.

peter furrows his brows. "what is that?"

"this is a lunch, peter. say it with me. lunch."

"i think your sandwich is rotting."

you snort. "i don't want to hear any criticism from you, mr. ant, when you're literally eating eight grams of protein and four chocolate chips."

"there's at least seven," he argues, and frowns. "ant?"

"cause of your appetite."

and then, peter almost smiles.

and there's a part of you that feels the guilt seep into your skin with every breath, every almost laugh you get out of peter.

there's that voice in your head, laughing at your stupidity, wanting to whisper threats in your ear.

when you're home alone, you can't ignore it.

you can't feel anything.

you worry that sometimes, seven alarms won't be enough to wake you up. not from this foolish dream of having a friend, or just someone to talk to.

you'll never stop being reckless, that voice says.

you'll never stop hurting people.

you know that you need to let peter go, right now, before you get used to his laughter and a smile with teeth. before he wonders where you've gone on days that you miss work, and can call you when he's bored.

the last time this happened, the last time you let this happen--

every night you promise yourself that tomorrow. tomorrow you'll start distancing yourself.

you'll be too busy for peter. too busy for anyone else.

you've kept this job for longer than any other one, and you don't want to lose the familiarity. you don't want to have to leave.

you'll be a ghost, starting tomorrow.

"what do you mean?" peter says, arms crossed, glaring at you from the other side of the table.

you're typing as you say "what do you mean what do i mean?"

the two of you have eliminated peter's computer completely. you type descriptions, and he places them where he wants, making sure not to mess up the rest of the article. and then you read what you've written to him, and try to ignore his snide comments.

it's a well-thought-out routine.

thursdays might be your favorite day of the week.

"you don't cook?" peter asks, sounding dubious. "not even pasta? or a pre-cooked meal in the oven?"

"i save those for special occasions."

"you just eat things you find at the store?"

"i'm a big fan of those pre-made salads, and cans of fruit."

peter sighs, leaning his head into his hands.

"what?" you say, "the lack of protein bars in my diet is upsetting you?"

"you don't cook?" peter repeats. "at all?"

"no, peter. now will you help me--"

"why not?" he interrupts, closing the computer.

you sigh at him and he sighs back.

you think that his foot might be kicking yours under the table.

"i'm kind of a hazard in the kitchen. i don't feel like making a hospital visit every time im craving some mac and cheese."

"you can't be that bad."

you laugh and roll up your sleeve, showing peter the side of your arm. "see that scar? it's from when i tried to make thanksgiving dinner and burned myself trying to put something in the oven."

peter frowns, running the tip of his finger over it while you laugh.

you roll your sleeve back down, looking at his far too concerned eyes. "last time i tried to use a knife i almost lost the tip of my pinky."

peter waves a hand. "that happens to everyone."

"and i was also wearing a cutting glove."

he closes his mouth. stares at you very intently.

"peter, can we get back to actually finishing this article before jameson fires us both? and by fire, i mean literally burning us both alive."

peter is still staring, apparently thinking very hard. "i'm going to cook for you," he states, shrugging finally.

"what do you mean?"

"my aunt taught me enough to feed you for one night."

"peter, i meant, why would you do that?"

"because apparently you only eat boxed food--"

"--there's cans too--"

"and you're already crazy. you need some actual dinner. a meal."

"peter, you always criticize me for eating so much at lunch when you're munching on your apple or whatever--"

"yeah, because i didn't realize that those bagged foods were the only sustenance you were getting."

you laugh at him. "i think that's a little dramatic."

"i don't. are you free tomorrow night?"

something inside you screams no, violently and furious. it tells you to get up right now and leave. tells you that you shouldn't even be here, that they should.

but the other part of you is laughing.

"peter, i'm not letting you cook for me."

"you think i'm a bad cook?" he challenges, just barely smiling.

"i think you're insane."

he mock laughs, and then holds his hand out. "give me your phone."

"why?"

"just do it."

and you do, only because peter's eyes are right on yours and he's not going to let you look away.

he takes your phone and types something in, smiling a little while he does so. and then he hands it back to you.

"type your address in."

"peter, i'm serious. you're not coming to my apartment to cook for me. i eat."

"so am i," peter responds, "put it in."

you raise a brow, refusing to lose this battle. in all honestly, you're not sure who's going to break first, because peter hates eye contact, but you hate his eyes.

"do you want me to just ask jameson for the address listed on your file?"

and there's something about the way he says it that makes you giggle, finally looking away. you shake your head, a bit annoyed that he's gotten this far.

but you type your address and send it to him anyway.

and there's only a small piece of you that regrets it.

there's a knock on your door while you're pacing around.

it's seven o'clock, and you've only had the last two hours to think about how to get out of this. you've contemplated playing sick, pretending not to be home, telling peter that there was an emergency, accidentally forgetting about this whole in the first place.

and the only real answer you've come to is that you can't answer the door.

work is one thing, you think, but as soon as someone is allowed to invade other areas of your life, you've got no choice.

you need to keep peter away, and you need to start doing it tonight.

but he's knocking at your door, and there's something about him standing there that makes you feel restless.

insane.

and you're not even thinking as you walk through the hallway, swearing to yourself that you're only going to make sure that it's really him.

you're not thinking when you bump into the side table by the door, and knock over a vase that you could've sworn you moved weeks ago. a vase you shouldn't even own.

"shit!" you're saying, as you try to catch it.

it shatters against the floor, covering the entire walkway, and effectively trapping you from moving forward.

maybe it's fate.

maybe this is just another warning not to answer that door.

but then a muffled voice says "y/n? you alright?"

and you rap your hand against your head, feeling so stupid and unlucky. still, you call back to peter. "i'm okay. just broke a vase. let me clean this up really quick and i'll--"

peter is frowning when he opens the door.

and you are frowning when you realize that you left it unlocked for the last two hours.

"don't move," peter says, quickly. "you're not wearing any shoes."

"it's fine, peter, i'll be careful."

"where's your broom?" he asks, meeting your eyes.

it's only then that you realize he's wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. he's standing in front of you in completely normal clothes and carrying a bag of groceries.

"no, you're my guest and i'm not letting you pick up my mess."

"where is it?" he repeats, softer now.

and you want to walk over the shards just to prove a point to him--whether it's that you're fine, or that you can handle a little pain--but peter is looking at you and walking inside, trying to kick away the shards closest to your feet.

you sigh. "there's a closet just around the corner."

peter gives you a small smile, hand grazing over your shoulder, and then he goes to get it, unconcerned about the cracking underneath his feet.

when he comes back and begins to sweep it up, he's almost laughing. "were you running to the door?"

"i think i lack control over all of my limbs. i might be a robot."

peter scoffs. "you wouldn't get hurt all of the time if you were a robot."

"i'm realistic."

"you're human and ridiculously uncoordinated."

you frown at him, and peter smiles at you. he brushes the broom over your bare feet, laughing when you squirm away. and then he clears a path so you can walk forward without cutting yourself.

"thanks," you say to him, watching shamefully as he continues to clean. "sorry, i don't mean to make you my butler."

"i'm already cooking for you, might as well clean."

and then peter lets you lead him inside, asking where he can dump all of the glass, and moving the grocery bag he put by the closet onto the counter.

after a moment, he looks around, his eyes scanning the walls and the floors.

he licks his bottom lip. "it's... nice."

you look at him, pouting. "you don't think i'm a good interior designer?"

"it's just a lot more empty than i thought. i figured you'd have art and sculptures, and... more."

you don't tell him that you'd love to, that you'd love to fill this apartment with things close to your heart. you don't tell him that if anything gets that close, it's sure to be broken.

but you smile anyway. "sorry to disappoint you, mr. parker."

"it's just unexpected. show me where i can get a pan."

you show him where all the necessities are, scoffing at some of the ingredients he has in the bag, and listening to him explain that it isn't his recipe, but that you still aren't allowed to criticize.

you just nod errantly, sitting on a bar stool so you can watch him.

and peter makes it look like a little dance, finding the things he needs in seconds, handing multiple things at once, and catching anything before it falls.

you sigh, and peter looks over to you, questioning. "i think you stole all of the coordination i was supposed to have."

and then peter laughs--with teeth and everything--and turns back around. "i don't think it matters much."

and you're about to argue with him, when some timer he set beeps.

"almost there," he says, "do you want to get some plates and forks so i can just move it onto there?"

you nod even though he can't see it, and walk around the counter to move past him.

but peter has ridiculously long legs, and without even noticing, you're stumbling into one of them and almost falling into peter's back. just as always though, he's quick to turn around and keep you from hitting your head on anything, including his bones.

peter sighs and you look at him, sheepishly smiling.

"see what i mean?" he says and then helps you stand back up.

even when he lets go you can feel the imprint of his hands around your biceps, the taste of his laughter in the air.

peter is in your apartment, laughing and cooking for you, taking care of you, and doing it all with a smile.

and, god, you don't think you'll ever be able to wake up from this.

part two.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters

#tasm #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter smut #tasm!fluff #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #Andrew!Spiderman #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew!spiderman imagine

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chvoswxtch · 2 years

Text

happy anniversary

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt shows up late for your anniversary dinner, so you decide to teach him a lesson in waiting.

warnings: cursing, drinking, lil angst, some fluff, explicit sexual content (minors dni), blasphemy (?), little bit of sub!matty

word count: 5.9k

a/n: once again, no one asked for this. I am just once again being a selfish slut for matthew murdock. also, i'm not catholic (nor do I know that much about catholicism) so if the religious things mentioned are totally wrong or offensive, I apologize. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The candles I had lit several hours ago were now completely liquified pools of amber. I tapped my nail against the side of my fifth glass of wine as I watched the flames dance over the melted wax, their glow casting shadows on the one and a half empty bottles of onyx glass. I could hear the faint ticking of a clock as I brought another tart taste of sangiovese to my lips. The flavor profile was sweet in comparison to my own bitterness. I tapped the corner of my phone to illuminate the lockscreen. 10:57pm. No missed calls. No voicemails. No text messages.

The apartment was silent apart from the ticking of a clock, and the crackling of the wooden wick as it burned. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend there was a fireplace in front of me. I could no longer smell the warm clove spice and toasted cranberry of the candle I had been burning all evening, or the fresh aroma of the meal that was still neatly placed on the table. I couldn’t smell anything but the lack of his presence. I wasn’t turning in for the night until he came home. I didn’t care if I had to wait until sunrise. He may escape the dangers that were waiting for him around every dark alley, but he wasn’t escaping my wrath tonight.

I heard the drawn out sound of squeaking hinges as the door to the rooftop was pulled open before carefully latching back into place. Heavy boots thudded against worn wood as they descended the staircase down into the living room, stopping just shy of the final step. Tension hung thick in the air like an ominous fog, and I waited impatiently for whatever excuse was about to tumble from his lips.

“Sweetheart.”

“Matthew.”

Even with the cowl covering most of his features, and the light cloak of darkness, I could see him wince. He knew I only called him by his full name when I was upset with him. I watched his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed thickly, bringing his gloved hands up to remove the helmet as he cautiously took the last step down into the living room. Normally the sight of his messy brown hair sticking up in odd places made me giggle and wanna run my fingers through it, but right now I wasn’t in a loving mood. His eyes blankly darted around, his head tilting to the side slightly as he gauged the scents and sounds filling the space.

“It smells amazing in here. You..you smell incredible.”

“Do you know why that is, Matthew?”

“Honey-”

“Because I took my time in the shower today. I was nearly in there for an entire hour. I am shaved and waxed beyond your wildest dreams. I am completely lathered in that raspberry iris lotion that you love so much, that you said makes my skin feel like silk. And you don’t even wanna know how much I spent on the red lace that’s under this dress. Not to mention, I also spent hours making your favorite dish, and dessert I might add, because you promised me you would be home tonight. And why did you promise that?”

“Because it’s our anniversary.”

“So you did remember. You just chose to forget.”

“It was just supposed to be a quick sweep-”

“Nothing with you is ever quick, Murdock. You promised me. I asked for one night, Matthew. One. Night.”

“Listen, tomorrow night I’ll-”

“No. Tomorrow night isn’t our anniversary. Tonight is.”

Matthew Murdock was usually able to talk and charm his way through anything. I had to admit, there were a few times it had even worked on me in the past. But I was not falling for his shit tonight. I didn’t want excuses. I didn’t want empty promises. I wanted to teach him a lesson he would never forget.

“Please..let me make it up to you. There’s still time left of our anniversary, we can still have dinner and celebrate. Let me get changed, I’ll open a new bottle, and I’ll spend all night apologizing between your thighs.”

“Tempting. If you had been fifteen, or even thirty minutes late, but had called to let me know ahead of time you were going to be late, I might have taken you up on that offer. But right now, I don’t think you deserve my pussy, Murdock. I think..you deserve a little suffering.”

Matt’s jaw hardened at my words, and I could hear a quiet whine slip past his lips in the silence. He was usually the one in charge in our relationship, and normally I reveled in it. I loved nothing more than letting him take complete control, obeying his demands, feeling his large hands manhandle me into whatever positions he saw fit. I trusted him completely, and the reward was always overly generous. Matt was a very giving lover, so I let him take me however he wanted or needed knowing we would both reap the benefits of pleasure. But tonight, I would be the one doing the taking.

“Honey-”

“No.”

I downed the rest of my glass and set it down on the table, rising slowly from my seat and crossing the short distance to where Matt was standing. I turned to give him my back, gathering my hair and pulling it over my shoulder.

“Unzip me.”

Matt hsatily discarded his gloves, tossing them into the abyss of darkness haphazardly. He never touched me with his gloves on. He always said he liked to be able to feel me and never wanted anything in the way. His fingers quickly found the zipper of my dress and I felt his knuckles brush against my spine as he tugged the small piece of metal down the middle of my back. I could feel his warm breath against my shoulder, lips dangerously close to my neck.

“I didn’t say you could kiss me, Matthew. Help me out of this dress.”

I could hear the hum of disapproval that sounded in his throat. He gently grasped at the straps on my shoulders and pushed the satin fabric down over my hips until it pooled around my ankles on the floor. As I stepped out of it, I turned around to face him.

“Sit down, Matthew.”

“Sweetheart-”

“I said sit down, Matthew.”

I could see the struggle written clearly all over his face. He wasn’t used to this, taking orders. Hell, neither was I. But I was going to make the most of it. He walked backwards slowly until the back of his knees hit the chair behind him, lowering himself into a perched position on the edge of the seat. I giggled softly as I took a few steps to stand in front of him.

“Oh, get comfortable, Matthew. You’re gonna be sitting there for a while. Now, give me your hands.”

He didn’t hesitate to raise his hands up into the direction of my voice. I gently wrapped my hands around his wrists and guided his palms to lay flat against the crimson lace teddy that covered my body. A soft sigh came from his parted lips as he began to move his hands slowly over the fabric, fingers gliding over every inch.

“No squeezing. No exploring. No lingering. I don’t want you to touch me. I just want you to feel what you’re missing. What’s been waiting on you for the past four hours. It’s your favorite shade of red, by the way.”

The whine that emitted from his lips went straight to my core. I finally understood what he meant when he would tell me how much he loved the noises I made, and how much of an effect they had on him. It made me feel incredibly powerful to hear him being needy.

“Angel..please. Let me-”

“No, Matthew.”

I pried his wanting hands from my body and let them fall onto his lap. Taking a few steps backwards, I sat down on the chair directly in front of him and sighed.

“You know, it’s really a shame. I was so excited for tonight. God, I was going to worship every inch of you. I was going to let you have me as many times as you wanted. Even when my body was begging for a break, I was going to beg you to keep going. I wanted to spend the entire weekend with you buried deep within me. But, I guess tonight didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me, so I’ll just have to take care of myself.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, Matthew. It isn’t. It’s not fair that I’m going to have to get myself off when you and I know my fingers don’t feel as good as yours. When we both know they don’t reach as deep. But, you’ve left me no choice. You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to be quiet and listen. You will not touch yourself. I don’t want to hear any begging or any complaining. If you speak without permission, or move your hands an inch, I will leave you out here alone. I will lock myself in the bedroom, and you will have no choice but to listen, knowing you don’t get to touch me. If you’re a good boy, I might just have mercy on you. Understood?”

Matt’s cheeks and the tips of his ears had blushed a deep shade of rose. His mouth hung open slightly as he held onto every word. There was a quiet whimper that escaped when I called him a good boy, but I heard it, and it sent a fresh wave of arousal through me. Oh, so he has a praise kink too.

“I-I understand.”

“Good boy.”

I grinned as his thighs tensed. I could already see a growing bulge straining against his suit pants. I moved my body towards the edge of the seat and pulled the fabric covering me to the side, completely exposing myself to him. I ran my middle finger up and down my slit slowly, collecting some of the wetness that had formed before bringing my middle and index finger up to rub languid circles around my clit. I sighed softly at the contact that I had been craving for hours. Matt groaned loudly as he listened to my movements. He told me once he always knew when I was turned on, that he could smell the arousal that soaked my panties and it drove him crazy.

I flattened my palm against myself, slipping my middle finger just slightly inside my entrance as the pad of my index finger brushed against my sensitive nub. I whined softly, beginning to move my hips against my own hand as I felt myself grow wetter. Ever since Matt and I had gotten together, I hadn’t touched myself like this. I didn’t bother. Nothing felt as good as he did. He had memorized my body completely. He knew all of my sensitive spots, where to touch, where to tease, what I liked and what drove me crazy.

“Can you smell how wet I am, Matthew?”

Matt’s hands balled into tight fists on top of his thighs. He was squeezing them so tightly, they were shaking slightly and his knuckles had turned stark white. His jaw was set in a hard line as he leaned his tense body forward slightly.

“Yes.”

“Can you hear it?”

“I can practically fucking taste it.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the growl that ripped from his chest at his response. Don’t get me wrong, I loved a sweet and romantic Matt. I adored when he took his time, held me close and whispered sweet things into my ear as he made love to me slowly while holding my hand. I loved feeling connected to him that way. I could feel how much he loved me and it made my heart swell. But God did I love a pissed off Matt.

He was always calm and collected around everyone. He tried really hard not to let his irritations and temper show. But at night when he put on the suit, he got to let the devil out. All that pent up rage and frustration got taken out on the unlucky criminals of Hell’s Kitchen. But I was even luckier when he came home and still had some left to take out on me. I loved when he snapped and lost control. I knew how much he needed that release, but he didn’t understand how much I needed it too. I’ll never forget the night I was finally able to convince him to take it further.

“I trust you, Matt. I know you need this, and I want it. I’m not made of glass, Matty. You’re not gonna break me. Please..use me.”

That was all it took. Of course that didn’t stop him from apologizing afterwards no matter how much I told him he didn’t have to. Now, it was an unspoken thing between us. He didn’t even have to say it, or ask. I could tell as soon as he walked through that door after particularly rough nights what he needed, and it always sent a rush through me that what he needed was me. I was always ready for him, and he knew it.

“Wouldn’t you like to taste, Matthew?”

Matt closed his eyes tightly at my words. His chest had begun to rise and fall a little quicker now that his breathing had become erratic. If it weren’t for the tightness of his suit, I’d be able to see the perfect outline of his cock. I could tell just by the look on his face that he was painfully hard.

“I asked you a question, Matthew. Open your eyes and answer me.”

I didn’t recognize the demanding tone of my own voice. In my head, I was drawing from my own experiences with Matt from when he had been in more dominant moods. He opened his eyes slowly and let a deep breath out through his nose, spitting out his response through gritted teeth.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I..I wanna taste.”

“Mm, that’s too bad. I would’ve let you have your fill all night, Matthew.”

I began to quicken my pace, now fully slipping my finger inside my entrance. I let out a slow whine, but more due to frustration than pleasure. My fingers weren’t as long as Matt’s, and they didn’t reach as deep. I started to focus on swirling my index finger around my clit, applying pressure ever so often.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Matt’s hands fly up to grab at the collar of his suit, tugging at it softly with a grimace. I halted my actions as I narrowed my eyes over at him.

“Matthew.”

“Please..can I just take this off? I..it’s too hot. It’s making it hard to breathe.”

“Fine. Take it off.”

Matt didn’t need to be told twice, and I was frankly impressed at just how quickly the suit had been discarded. He let out a sigh of relief as he sat back in the chair, clad in only a pair of black boxer briefs that clung to his muscular thighs. I captured my bottom lip between my teeth as I took in the sight of his half naked form.

“You can’t come like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sweetheart..I know you can’t make yourself come like that. Please, let me help. If you wanna tortue me, fine, but don’t make yourself suffer. Please..let me help.”

“I don’t need your help, Matthew. While I admit, I do come harder and easier with you, I did take care of myself before you came along. It just takes me longer. So, I suggest you be quiet..and patient.”

I began to move my fingers again, focusing the pads of my index and middle fingers on my aching clit. Part of me wanted desperately to give up and just let Matt take over, make him prove all night how sorry he was. But I was stubborn and hellbent on proving him wrong.

“Baby..please. I-I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again, okay? I swear. Just please..please let me touch you. I need to touch you, sweetheart. I need to taste you. Please.”

“Matthew, this is your final warning to shut the fuck up.”

A strangled groan escaped Matt’s throat and filled the apartment as he threw his head back against the couch in frustration. He braced his hands on the armrests of the chair and gripped onto them so tightly I was certain they would snap. His entire body was rigid with pent up tension and I watched in awe when he started to slowly thrust his hips upwards into nothing. That sight had to be the hottest thing I had ever seen.

“You could come like this, couldn’t you? Just listening to me fuck myself on my fingers?”

Matt whined loudly as he turned his head in my direction. A sheen of sweat had already formed on his forehead and at the top of his chest. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he sighed defeatedly.

“Yes.”

“Too bad.”

Matt’s eyes widened at my callousness, his lips parting in surprise.

“Sweetheart, I can’t-”

“Now Matthew, we’re playing by your rules, aren’t we? What do you tell me when I’ve been a bad girl and want to come?”

Matt collapsed against the chair and groaned, digging his fingertips into the fabric of the armrests. It wasn’t hard to see how much he detested the taste of his own medicine. I wondered for a moment how long he would actually last through the teasing. I thought about how much longer it would be before every ounce of self control Matt had was completely eroded, and he snapped and took control. At that moment I decided I really wouldn’t mind. I think we both knew when it came down to it, he was a lot stronger than me, and definitely faster. I wouldn’t even make it past the couch before he had his hands on me.

“Only good girls get to come.”

“Same rules apply. Only good boys get to come. And you haven’t been very good to me tonight, Matthew.”

“Angel please..I don’t know if I can hold it.”

“You’re a strong boy, Matthew. You’ll find a way.”

The internal conflict I felt only raged in intensity the longer I watched him. I hated seeing Matt in pain, or upset. I always wanted to comfort him and make him feel better. The world hadn’t always been kind to him, and I always felt like I needed to make up for that. Matt for a moment looked like he might cry, and I instantly worried that I had taken it too far.

“Matty?”

Matt’s head perked up at the change in my tone and the use of my usual calling for him. His head tilted to the side slightly as his eyes blankly stared over in my direction, brows slightly furrowed.

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I waited with bated breath for his response. I knew he was sorry. I could see how bad he felt about tonight. If he wanted me to stop, I would. I’d happily give in and let him take over.

“No.”

I was slightly taken back by the conviction in his voice. I stared over at him silently for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous as I nibbled at my bottom lip.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I can hold it. Go ahead, sweetheart.”

All my anger from earlier had completely flown out the window. All I wanted at that moment was him. I took a deep breath and got back to work with my fingers. I wanted to come as quickly as possible so that I could finally have him. I scrunched my brows as I began to rub furiously over my clit, whining as I applied more pressure. I could feel that familiar bubble building inside me, but it felt so far away. I dipped my fingers into my entrance to collect more of my wetness and pressed my fingers a little harder against my clit as I rubbed and moved my hips in time with my hand. Finally, it hit me. I moaned softly at the explosion of bliss and fell back against the chair. My orgasm was weak, but I didn’t care. I could finally have him.

I looked over to see him waiting as patiently as he could, panting softly and features contorted in need. I sat up slowly and licked my lips, letting my eyes wander shamelessly over his body.

“Come here, Matty.”

Matt let out the deepest sigh of relief and jumped to his feet, crossing the short distance between us and kneeling down in front of me. His hands grabbed onto the arm rests as he waited for my next instruction.

“Open your mouth.”

His lips instantly parted, and I slipped two of my fingers that were coated in my release into his mouth. He closed his eyes and moaned as his tongue swirled around my fingers, collecting every drop from them. I whined as I watched him, feeling a fresh wave of need flood between my thighs. I giggled softly when he bit down gently on my index finger, a cheeky grin covering his mouth as he kissed the tips of both fingers.

“Mm, do you think you deserve to be forgiven?”

“No.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly at his instant reply, shaking my head as I brought my hand up to thread my fingers through his messy hair.

“Should’ve known better than to ask a Catholic that question.”

The grin on his lips stretched even further into that megawatt smile complete with dimples that made me weak in the knees. His hands hovered over the tops of my thighs, as if asking for silent permission. I gently grabbed onto his wrists and pushed them downwards, sighing at the feeling of finally having his hands on me.

“I think I need to pray for forgiveness.”

I arched one of my brows and smiled softly, tilting my head to the side curiously.

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

I knew religion was important to Matt, but I didn’t think a confession was needed right at this very moment.

“Okay. I..suppose you better find an altar then.”

“I already have.”

Matt gently squeezed my thighs before slipping his hand in between them to part them slowly. My eyes widened in shock and I let out a gasp of surprise once his words finally clicked in my head. He shuffled closer on his knees, wetting his lips with his tongue once again before whispering huskily.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left my mouth, my legs were thrown over his shoulders and Matt’s head was buried deeply between my thighs. I grabbed a small fistfull of his hair and cried out in astonishment when I felt his plump lips wrap around my clit and began to suck with fervor. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh of my thighs and I felt vibrations sent throughout my entire body every time he grunted against my pussy. Matt pushed me deeper into the chair as he tried to get as close as possible, nearly suffocating himself between my thighs. I was an absolute mess above him, moaning his name over and over like it was the only word I knew. I nearly lost it when I felt his tongue thrust inside of me and began to explore.

“Fuck..Matty..right there..please!”

Matt shook his head violently and I screamed as his nose bumped against my clit repeatedly as he ate my pussy like it was his last fucking meal. In a matter of minutes I was coming apart on his tongue, white flashing behind my eyelids as Matt continued to devour me through my release. I clamped my legs around his head and grabbed onto the back of his neck, rolling my hips up against his face as I rode out the high he had brought me to. This orgasm hit me ten times harder than the measly one I had conjured, and I found myself struggling to keep up.

I whined when it all became too much and attempted to push at Matt’s shoulders as I unwrapped my legs from around his head, but he wasn’t having it. He only gripped tighter onto my thighs and continued his assault on my overly sensitive clit. I whimpered softly as I tugged at his hair roughly to get him to move.

“Jesus Matty, please. It’s too much.”

Matt chuckled as he pulled back slowly, licking every bit of my release off his lips. He rubbed soothing circles on my inner thighs as he sat up on his knees with a wicked grin.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.”

“Carried away? Fuck, I can’t even see straight right now.”

“Well in that case, I suppose you can forgive me now.”

I slowly sat up and reached my hand out to push Matt’s sweaty hair away that was stuck to his forehead. I frowned slightly as my thumb brushed lightly over a faint bruise that was forming on his left cheekbone. He turned his head slightly to nuzzle his face into my palm, pressing a soft kiss to my wrist.

“I’m okay.”

“I know. I just..hate seeing you hurt.”

Matt gently grasped my wrist and brought my hand up to his mouth, pressing a featherlight kiss to each of my knuckles before he held my palm against his chest over his heart. I could feel it pounding against my palm as he held it there. Matt’s face contorted into an apologetic expression, a deep sigh sounding from his chest as he leaned in closer.

“I really am sorry about tonight, sweetheart. I promise, it’ll never happen again. I don’t ever want to hurt your feelings like that. I just..wanna keep you safe.”

“And I just want you, Matty. I just wanted one, normal night with you. You..you mean everything to me and I had this whole night planned out and then-”

“I ruined it. And I’m not done making up for it.”

“Well..good. Cause that was only like..one Hail Mary, and I’m pretty sure the standard is like..three. I think.”

“It’s five, actually. And that first one you did absolutely did not count.”

I felt my heart begin to thump against my ribcage in excitement. My cheeks immediately flamed with heat at the thought of what was still to come. Glancing down between us, I could see that Matt’s neglected cock was still straining against the confines of his tight briefs. I slipped my hand down his chest and lightly grasped at his cock through the fabric, causing Matt to hiss through gritted teeth.

“Honey, what about dinner? And dessert? You spent so much time on it, I don’t want it to go to waste. Besides, I have a gift for you.”

“The only gift I want right now Matty is the one I’m holding. Everything else can wait.”

I grabbed onto the back of his neck and pulled him in close as I crashed our lips together in a needy kiss. I greedily accepted Matt’s tongue in my mouth and moaned at the taste of myself on it. I dragged my nails against his lower stomach, causing his abs to contract as I dipped my hand into the waistband of his briefs once again to wrap my hand around his cock. He moaned into my mouth and it sent my mind into a frenzy.

He felt heavy in the palm of my hand, and warm. Everything about Matt was always so warm. I stroked my thumb along the underside of him, feeling the velvety smooth skin against my palm as I stroked him slowly. Matt hastily pushed his briefs down his thighs, sighing in relief to finally be freed from the confinements.

“I wanna taste you.”

“Not now, sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

“You know how much I love having those pretty lips wrapped around me, but I’m not gonna last angel. Not after that little show you put on. I need to be inside you, right now.”

Matt wrapped his arm around my lower back and hooked his other underneath my knees, easily lifting me into the air as he stood and carried us over towards the kitchen. I felt goosebumps erupt over my skin as the cold of the cabinets hit my exposed back. I braced my palms against Matt’s chest to halt his movements quickly.

“Matty, please don’t rip this. It was really expensive.”

A devilish grin formed onto his plump lips as his hands slowly snaked up my thighs. He moved in closer until he was flush between my thighs, brushing his nose along my jaw as he nipped softly at my neck. I wrapped my legs around his waist and moaned quietly at the feeling of his lips at the base of my neck. It was one of my sweet spots, and he knew it. I shivered when I felt his hot breath fanning over the shell of my ear.

“Oh angel, you think I wanna rip this off when you look so beautiful in it? It’s staying on.”

Matt quickly shoved the fabric aside before pushing the blunt head of his cock through my folds. I let my head knock back against the cabinet as he pushed himself into me painfully slowly, inch by delicious inch. The sound of our moans mixed together once he had completely bottomed out.

“Fuck honey, no matter how many times I ruin you, you’re always so fucking tight for me.”

“Just for you, Matty.”

Matt wrapped his arm around my lower back and pulled me closer towards the edge of the counter until our chests were flush together. He didn’t waste any time as he started to thrust his hips at a vigorous pace, his hand slipping between our bodies to press his thumb against my clit roughly. I whined loudly at the pressure and dug my fingernails deeply into his shoulder blades, no doubt leaving crescent shaped indentations.

“God..you always take my cock so well, don’t you sweetheart? This needy little cunt just grips me so fucking well.”

I couldn’t hardly speak. All I could do was hang on. The collision of Matt’s hips into mine and the feeling of his thumb working over my already sensitive nub was very quickly pushing me towards the edge, and I was ready to fall.

“This pussy was fucking made for me. You were made for me.”

“Made for you, Matty.”

I had no idea if I was making sense. I wasn’t even sure if I was speaking English. I tried so hard to stay grounded. I wanted to remember every single second of this, but Matt was brushing that spongy spot inside of me with precise accuracy with every powerful thrust of his hips and it only sent me higher and higher into another realm.

“Fuck sweetheart..not gonna..last much longer. I’ll make up for it later..I-fuck, I swear. I’ll take my time later, angel. Right now I need you to come with me. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?”

I wrapped my arms around Matt’s neck, bringing one hand up to cup his face as I pressed our foreheads together. I leaned in to press my lips to his in a passionate kiss, gently nipping at his bottom lip. I whined in pleasure when I felt his pace quicken at an inhuman speed, his thumb moving so fast over my clit it was practically vibrating.

“I..I love you, Matty.”

“I love you, my sweet girl. Come for me, baby. Let me feel you let go with me.”

My throat burned as I screamed loudly when euphoria finally hit, wracking thunderously throughout my body and drenching me in complete elation like a hurricane. I held onto Matt as tightly as I could, savoring the sound of his honey coated moans of my name that echoed in my ears as I felt him paint the inside of me with his sweet release. His hips stuttered as he spilled his seed over the garden within me, fingers no doubt leaving violet marks on my skin as he thrusted through the aftershocks of gratification.

I hid my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling a deep breath of his scent as I placed a gentle kiss to the spot right below his ear. I felt his strong arms wrap tightly around my waist, caging me against his chest. For a moment, we just held each other as our jagged breaths attempted to return to normal. I nuzzled my cheek against his, welcoming the slight burn of his scruff rubbing against my skin.

“Happy anniversary, Matty.”

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

My heart expanded in my chest so wide at his words I thought it would bust through my rib cage. I pulled back slightly with a satisfied smile, brushing my thumb along the top of his strong cheekbone as I kept him close.

“Hungry?”

“I’m fucking starving.”

I giggled softly as I smoothed his messy brown hair back into place, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

“Fighting bad guys works up an appetite, huh?”

“Well that, and pleasuring you.”

I blushed profusely at his cheeky words, lightly smacking his chest as a deep laugh rumbled from within his chest. Matt’s large hand came up to gently cup my cheek, his thumb lightly tracing my bottom lip.

“But no, actually I could smell your cooking from several blocks away. It made my stomach growl, and then I realized how much time had passed since I had left, and how much trouble I was probably in.”

“You know, for a lawyer, you cause an awful lot of trouble.”

Matt’s dazzling grin stretched across his beautiful lips, those charming dimples ever-present as he laughed and nodded his head.

“True, but I try to make up for it. Speaking of, what do you say I heat up dinner and open a new bottle, we’ll have dessert, I can give you your gift, and then we can resume my apology tour?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’ve learned your lesson yet, Murdock. But it’ll give you time to sit and think about what you’ve done.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll never make you wait again.”

“Don’t like the tables being turned, huh?”

Matt smirked and dipped his head, leaving a burning trail of kisses along my jawline and down my neck until he reached my sweet spot. His teeth gingerly grazed my skin as he sucked softly at my flesh.

“Oh angel, I don’t mind you taking control. That was actually really fucking hot. I just really hated not being able to touch you like I wanted.”

“You stand me up again, I won’t let you touch me for a month.”

“Never again, sweetheart.”

“Good boy.”

I grinned at the growl that ripped through Matt’s chest, giggling softly as I lightly pushed at his shoulders.

“Alright, you have a deal. But I have a gift for you too.”

“You are my gift.”

“Matty.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Alright, dinner, dessert, gifts, then more apologies.”

“Fine. Enjoy your break, Murdock. That was only two Hail Marys.”

“Three more to go.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil fic

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letsgetrowdy43 · 7 months

Text

Dial tone dramatics—

Request: Luke and Adam teaming up and sending the UMich hockey team to look for the Hughes Sister. Sunny forgot her phone and went to a party with some friends. She felt she didn’t need to tell Adam or Luke since they were busy and would tell them afterwards.

Au Masterlist!!

Charlotte grinned as she applied the finishing touch on Sunny's make-up, glittery gloss to finish the going out look as she checked her phone again to see if their ride was ready to pick them up. "They're here!" she said rummaging around their dorm for her purse that she had misplaced once again.

Sunny threw on her cute going-out jacket as she tried to speed her roommate up, not needing to hear the continuous rant of Lottie's lack of time awareness. She pushed her roommate out the door and down the stairs to the car that was parked out front with their two other friends, and the sober boyfriend of the night who was driving them to and from the party they'd been invited to.

"Shit Lottie, I forgot my phone on the vanity," the girl groaned as she dug through her purse for the phone that wasn't there, "Can you text Adam or Luke to tell them we are going out and that I'm safe?" Charlotte nodded, barely listening as she sang along with the Drake song playing over the aux, "They don't need to know your every move babes!" Macy yelled over the blaring music as she turned to see Sunny nod. "I guess yeah"

Adam frowned as he tried to call the girl for the third time in the past hour, a confused look on his face as he flipped through random Snapchat stories to see the very drunk Charlotte, Sunny, and Macy scream-singing to Katy Perry.

Luke's contact popped up on his screen causing Adam's confusion to grow, "have you heard from Sunny, she hasn't responded to me all night" his tone concerned. "No I was trying to call her as well, I think she went out though?" Adam listened to Luke groan in annoyance. "She didn't tell you?" "She tried to call me while we were at practices, but other than that I don't think so?"

Adam ran a hand through his hair as he thought of a possible way to track the girl down, "I'll call Charlotte and see where they are," Adam said as Luke began texting Macy's boyfriend who was more than likely trying to wrangle them into his car.

"Adamo!! I missed your presence tonight!" the very drunk girl said on the other end. "Hey Lottie, is Sunny with you?" The girl gasped on the other end, "We left to get pizza and forgot her there, shit she was with some girls in our residence building," the girl rambled before pulling the phone away from her head to tell Macy's boyfriend to turn the car around. "Was it that Alpha Phi party?" Adam asked as he searched his pockets for his car keys. "Yeah, at the off-campus house" she said just before Adam hung up and texted Luke who texted the team group chat.

Sunny was beyond drunk, giggling as her newfound girlfriend sunk another pong ball in their competitions cup, "booo you suck," the girl on the opposite side of the table said as she downed the full cup of beer.

"Sunny oh my god," Rutger said as she caught his attention, a worried look on his face as he maneuvered his way around the kitchen to be by her side, "your boyfriend and brother are looking for you." "Adam's here!" she said looking around for her boyfriend who was nowhere to be found. "He's on his way sunshine."

Sunny's cup pong partner grinned as she nudged her new friend, "Who is this?" "Oh, this is Rutger, my brother's friend!" she grinned as she squished his cheeks. "I'm hurt that you don't consider us friends," Rutgers brows furrowed as he removed Sunny's hands from his face. "Oh sorry, this is Rut my best friend, Rut this is..." "Kayleigh" "This is Kayleigh, she lives in the dorm right next to mine and Lottie's," she said moving out of the way, patiently waiting for her loving boyfriend to find her just as Rutger had promised.

The hazy look in her eyes quickly disappeared as she was pulled through the crowd, a very angry Luke greeted her as he pulled her outside. "What were you thinking?" "I forgot my phone, Charlotte wasn't supposed to leave my side all night!" she defended as her brother ripped into her in front of a crowd of people. "That's a shit excuse, Sunny!"

Her cheeks blazed with embarrassment as she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, "you okay?" "I'm fine, really, I found a group of girls that live in my building and wasn't gonna leave their side until I saw someone I knew and was safe enough to get me home," she mumbled into her boyfriend's chest as he ran a hand up and down her back, "I need some water and some sleep though"

Luke was still on a rant as Adam slid a sweater over her frame and brushed her hair out of her face, "she gets it, Luke, you can give her a talk tomorrow, but for now let's just get her home," Adam reasoned as Luke stopped his yelling and nodded shortly. "Make sure she calls me in the morning," the blonde said as he crossed his arms over his chest and death stared at his teammate. "Will do" "Keep her safe, love you both," Luke said before he made a beeline straight to his car.

Sunny let out a snort as she grinned up at her boyfriend, "Lukey loves youuu," she said in a singsong voice as Adam rolled his eyes at her drunk tactics. "Let's get you home, you smell like beer," he said before kissing her on the side of her head and leading her to his car.

#tinydancerau!!#adam fantilli #Adam fantilli x reader #adam fantilli blurb #adam fantilli insta edit #adam fantilli imagine #Luke hughes #umich imagine #umich hockey #rutger mcgroarty #quinn hughes #jack hughes

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misshoneyimhome · 23 days

Note

I apologize if this was requested already after reading last night's chapter i got inspired innocence kink + breeding kink + daddy kink jewelry fetish + cum play + slight degradation + overstimulation + hand kink + exhibitionist i don't know about the daddy kink but i'm down with professor nylander

Oh, I’ve missed Professor Nylander 🫦💦 he’s such a good one to work on when you’re in need of something extra naughty and filthy 😈 😏

And babe, I don’t think anyone has ever requested all of this (at least not at the same time 😉) but it did give me a lot to work with 😊🤍 Though I did forget about the breeding kink... my apologies!

Still hope you enjoy it 🙏🏼

Warnings; 18+ smut; oral sex (m receiving); fingering; unprocted sex (p in v); dom/sub (ish); basically everything in the request ⬆️

Word count; 5.6K

[Prof!Willy x reader]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Please, excuse me I don't mean to be rude… But tonight I'm fuckin' you I William Nylander [AU] 🖋️⚡️💦

You just couldn't stop staring. The way his arm moved, his strong hand gripping the pen as he wrote on the board in the lecture hall had you completely captivated.

You were in your usual spot for Professor Nylander's class, but your thoughts were elsewhere.

It had been a few weeks since you'd had that little chat on the sofa, and though you hadn't talked about labels or anything further, what you knew was: a) neither of you were sleeping with anyone else, b) he'd shown jealousy when Josh Adams tried to flirt with you, and c) you didn't appreciate Angie Turner's attempts to come onto him.

And d) even though it was all kinds of wrong, you found yourself falling deeper into your relationship with Professor William Nylander.

In your mind, he was the most attractive man alive, and there was no one else for you. No one could compare to him, so all you could think was that you needed to get through the final months and exams, and then you could be together.

Well, if William was up for it, of course. You weren't entirely sure what was going on in his head. Every time you crossed paths, he kept it neutral and calm but when it was just the two of you, he could rock your world for hours.

And William was definitely skilled when it came to sex. The way his mouth worked on your sweet little tight core, could make your head spin. It was like he used magic when he added his fingers to the mix, curling them to hit your most sensitive spot and send you into overdrive.

Moreover, his member was nothing to be embarrassed about either. William had confidence, and you knew exactly why. Not just from his physical training as a child and teenager, aiming to become a professional hockey player before an ankle injury ended that dream. But also, from his skilled... well, everything. He was creative, to say the least. And to top it all off, his member had that slight curve to the right, hitting just the right spot over and over again.

However, your relationship had also slowly become more romantic and tender. Though you couldn’t go on public dates for obvious reasons, he had treated you to dinner a few times now, enjoyed at his place. Sometimes on the couch in front of the telly, which may or may not lead to passionate snogging sessions. And sometimes at the dining table, a romantic setting that may or may not end in a passionate encounter on the surface.

Alright, needless to say, your relationship was filled with raw and mind-blowing sex.

And today was no different.

As you watched him intently during the lesson, you had to stop yourself from biting your lip. His suit looked particularly sharp today, fitting nicely around his bum, and his rolled-up sleeves revealed his strong arms. He'd opted for dark grey trousers and a semi-loose white shirt, and you couldn't help but imagine how you'd unbutton it later.

Shaking your head to snap back to reality, you cleared your throat and refocused. Yet, as always, you felt a little tempted to stir things up, maybe ensuring you'd definitely get some action later. So, you sent him a text.

"Can’t wait to have those hands on me 🫦 you’re turning me on just by writing"

It wasn't anything too wild, but you knew it would provoke a reaction from William, and you couldn't wait to see how he'd respond.

You didn't feel sorry about what you’d done during the lecture. At least, not at first.

After the call, William had naturally invited you to join him for dinner, but that evening's meal turned out to be more than just a serving of Italian takeaway.

First things first were that he’d asked you to dress nicely - which you knew in his world meant something that was easy to discard and could/should include a skirt of a sort. So naturally, you opted for another schoolgirl-like outfit; the “Hit me Baby one more time” era inspired look, just a tad more modern.

You wore socks just below the knee, a red checkered skirt, a white blouse (no time for buttons), and your long-curled locks styled in a half-up 'do with space buns, giving it a cute, innocent vibe.

And William was left speechless when he saw you. His jaw almost dropped as he looked at your outfit and your cute smile. Did he maybe have a bit of a daddy kink? Perhaps, but he didn’t mind. He knew you were a mature adult, taking responsibility for your own actions, and your relationship was consensual. He trusted that you would speak up if you weren’t comfortable with these kinds of intimate actions with him, so he didn’t dwell too much on whether it was right or wrong.

Moreover, you didn’t complain either. Your professor wasn’t just attractive, but he was attentive too, ensuring all your needs were met and prioritising you first - something guys your age weren’t always too concerned about.

So, after the delicious dinner where you’d playfully re-enacted a scene akin to the lady and the tramp with the spaghetti, you found yourself swiftly in his lap, straddling him - not exactly ladylike.

Your tongues intertwined as you shared a deep, hungry kiss, his hands resting on your buttocks while yours were tangled in his hair. It was passionate and messy, your fingers lightly pulling on his locks as his hands squeezed your cheeks.

The urge to let your hips rock against him was irresistible, your pulsating core pressing against his slowly hardening member. But William stopped you. Sensing his trousers becoming tighter around his crotch, he pulled back, allowing you both to catch your breath.

“I’ve got something for you…” he murmured, his hands still holding onto you firmly.

“Mmm... I can feel that,” you teasingly remarked, allowing yourself to rock a few more times.

“Not just that, babe,” he chuckled lightly, before gently moving you off his lap and walking to the desk to retrieve a small black box. Returning to the sofa and sitting next to you once more, he opened it.

Inside was a white-gold necklace with two charms: one bearing a W, and the other a locker.

You were taken aback. Had he actually bought you a gift? Did that mean you were more to him than just a sexual partner?

Suddenly, you realised you were holding your breath. Snapping back to reality, you let out a deep breath and flashed him a smile.

“Wow, Willy... it’s incredibly beautiful,” you spoke softly. “But you didn’t have to do that…” You tried to act as if this wasn’t the sweetest thing any man had ever done for you, but you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“I know... but I wanted to... since we can’t be officially together, at least I could show you that I wanted more than just... sex,” he admitted softly, offering you a mix of a smile and a smirk. “It doesn’t have to mean anything special; I just thought it looked nice, and you deserve to be treated like a princess.”

His words were incredibly sweet, and you couldn’t help but let the smile spread across your face.

“Oh, Willy, I love it,” you replied, sincerely looking into his eyes.

“Well, then turn around.”

And without hesitation, you did. Lifting your hair, you allowed William to gently place the slightly cold piece of jewellery around your neck, followed by his lips tenderly planting a few butterfly kisses behind your ear.

However sweet and romantic the moment was, there was an undeniable sense of sincere commitment hanging in the air, alongside a mutual longing for each other.

And as William gently nipped your earlobe, he then growled deeply. “Now… where were we?”

You couldn’t help but gulp lightly as his voice sent shivers down your spine, a slight tingling occurring between your legs.

Then, very slowly, William let his large hand gently wrap around your neck, his mouth moving to the opposite side as he spoke huskily once again. “So, you want to feel my hands on you? You want me to touch you?” He asked rhetorically, referring to your naughty text from earlier.

With another gulp, you carefully nodded under his grip, a soft ‘mmm’ confirming his questions.

“Good girl…” he softly muttered, his praise sending signals straight to your eager core. “Then go to the bed and wait for instructions.”

And again, without hesitation, you immediately complied. Rising from your seat as William released his hold, you made your way to the bed and stood waiting, just as he had instructed.

You stood with your back to him, facing the king-size bed, as you heard him unbuckling his belt. And as he kept you waiting for a few more minutes, you assumed he’d undressed completely - and you were right.

As he drew nearer to you, you felt his bare chest against your back, his hands freely roaming your curves as he breathed near your hair.

“Take off your clothes and bend over,” he ordered simply. But as you slowly removed your blouse and bra, he stopped you. “Keep the skirt and socks on.”

And naturally, you obeyed. And as you stood with your arse exposed to him, hands resting on the bed for support, you once again felt his hands on you, sliding beneath the fabric of your skirt to find your underwear. With a quick motion, he pulled them down, allowing you to step out of them.

You tried to maintain your composure, but despite controlling your breath, you couldn't help but gasp as his thick fingers traced up your folds.

“Mmm… so wet for me, baby girl…”

William was thoroughly pleased with what he found, and as he continued to explore your flesh with his fingers, he relished in the soft moans he elicited from your lips. Occasionally touching your clit gently, he knew he was making you feel good, yet he didn’t give you everything right away. You had to earn it. Instead, he slowly inserted two fingers past your entrance, effortlessly stretching you.

You were dripping for him. And as he moved his fingers in and out of your core, you felt the pleasurable sensation that only he could bring. The way he curled his fingers upwards just right had him hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. And your eager moans conveyed nothing else but how much you were enjoying it.

The sound of your wet pussy echoed through the room as William picked up the pace, his other hand supporting your lower back as he noticed your legs trembling slightly.

You had to shut your eyes as the stimulation intensified, a knot forming in your stomach and your mind entering a foggy state. You sensed an impending orgasm approaching, knowing it wouldn’t be long if he kept this speed.

And William gladly persisted. Taking pleasure in the sight before him as he observed how responsive you were to him, with moans and deep breaths escaping you with each thrust, he then intensified his movements. Fingering you vigorously, he was intent on bringing you to climax, and he knew your body intimately, giving him the confidence to know just how to push you over the edge.

As his fingering sent waves of pleasure through your body, your moans grew louder, your hands gripping the bedsheets tightly. You were so close. Incoherent breaths escaped you as William drove you towards ecstasy, and finally, you felt the climax nearing.

“Mmm… oh, Willy… I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered quietly. And as he maintained the intense speed, William let you reach your peak, causing you to bow your head, moan out his name in a sensual scream, before having to take in deep breaths to recover.

It took almost a minute for you to come down from the high, and as you suddenly felt the absence of his fingers withdrawing from your pussy, you heard him chuckle darkly behind you. “Done already? Oh, baby girl, we’re just getting started.”

With those words, you realised the night had only just begun.

And it didn’t take long before William firmly grasped you, pushed you down onto your knees, and tapped your lips, signalling you to open your mouth. The ease with which he could slide his hard length into your warmth, pressing it deeper into your throat as you skilfully took him, left him thoroughly satisfied.

You were talented, he had to give you that. Working his shaft with both your mouth and hand to please him. Breathing through your nose, you did your utmost to show him just how skilled you were, while coating his shaft with saliva as he guided your head. Then pulling back to catch your breath while still stroking him, before eagerly taking him back in.

“Mmm, you're so good to me,” William moaned softly as he leaned his head back slightly, relishing in the pleasure you were giving him. His hand gripped tightly onto your hair, and as he felt his climax approaching, he wanted to pull away, not wanting to finish just yet. But you were making him feel too good to stop.

Rocking his hips slightly against your movements, he let himself succumb to the impending release. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum…” he warned. And by the time you pulled away to catch your breath, he looked down at you with intense eyes, gripping his member firmly as he eagerly stroked it. “Stick out your tongue.”

Once again, you obeyed his command. Then, with a deep grunt and his eyes rolling back in his head, William released himself all over your mouth, chin, and cheek. He painted your face like a canvas, marking you as his own.

And as he slowly opened his eyes, coming down from the high, he admired his handiwork. While you remained in position, he gently ran his thumb over your lips, delicately playing with his own cum as he enjoyed the sight of you on your knees.

“My little cum slut…” he murmured as he smeared some of the stickiness onto your lips for you to taste.

“Mmm…” you hummed as you gently sucked his thumb, then licked your lips to savour more of him.

It was intensely arousing for him to watch, but he was still eager to feel himself inside your warmth. And being the gentleman he was, he allowed you a moment to wipe your face before pulling you onto the bed, pressing you down as he pinned your hands on either side of your head.

Your core was still tingling from the first orgasm, but William was also still hard, craving for more, so he didn’t give you any time to rest. With a forceful thrust, he easily slipped his cock into your cunt, and instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips.

William fucked you deeply, almost reaching places you hadn't known existed, sending your mind spinning with pleasure.

And as he repeatedly hit your sweet spot, he couldn't help but grin at the loud, uninhibited moans he was eliciting from you, which only spurred him on to increase his thrusts.

His grip around your wrists tightened as he pounded into you, his length stimulating your walls with every thrust. It was almost overwhelming for you to handle. William was relentless. His self-control waned as your pussy felt so good wrapped around his cock, and his sole mission was to push you over the edge.

And he was succeeding. You could feel another orgasm building within you, your mind clouded as you were filled inside and stimulated in your core.

“Mmm, fuck, Willy… I’m gonna cum…” you whispered in a soft cry, your eyes rolling back as he pushed you closer.

“That’s it, cum for me, baby… show me what a good slut you are for me…”

And that was all it took for you to arch your back beneath him, your walls tightening around his member as you let the ecstasy take over once more. It was intense. His dominant demeanour was overwhelming, and as you embraced your role as his good girl, you simply tried to take him so well.

Then as you began to come down from the high, William admired you, revelling in how he could make you feel. Releasing your hands and sitting back, he couldn't help but gaze at the necklace he'd given you, a symbol of your relationship's deep connection, trust, and comfort.

However, the tender moment was short-lived as he withdrew his length, took a firm hold of you, and spun you around onto your hands and knees. Which was undoubtedly his favourite position. It gave him ultimate power to thrust deeply and vigorously, while also providing you with incredible sensations.

He then gave your cheek a firm spank, eliciting a little squeak from you before plunging back into your core.

“Shit…” you muttered as he swiftly increased his pace, once again stimulating you deeply with rapid and forceful thrusts, just as he knew you liked it.

But it was too much. His hips pounded harder and harder against your bum, surely leaving a reddened mark. And as his fingers dug into your hips, you felt your cunt dripping with juices, trailing down the inside of your thigh. You cried out loud with every thrust, feeling like nothing more than a piece of meat for his pleasure.

But it was all part of the role play. As your mind turned to mush, your vision blurred, and your fingers clenched the sheets, you allowed yourself to edge closer to another climax. The impending orgasm forming as William rapidly moved his cock in and out, overstimulating your walls.

“Willy… Mmm… I can’t…” you cried out as your body started to feel numb and spent from his vigorous fucking.

“What's that?” he spoke, still thrusting at the same intense speed. “Can't handle me, baby? Not being a good little slut for me?”

But you couldn't form a coherent response. Instead, you moaned and whimpered as he delivered another hard spank to your ass, leaving it a solid red hue. Then, he moved his hand to your neck once more, his other hand finding your lower abdomen as he firmly pulled you up and held you against his chest.

His pace slowed slightly in the new position, allowing you to catch your breath, yet his firm grip remained thrilling and dominant. And as he growled once more in your ear, you couldn’t help but gasp.

“Hmm… I know you're a good girl… my little princess,” his deep voice echoed in your ear, his hand maintaining a firm grip around your throat without restricting your airways. “Your cunt is made for me…” He then moved his hand slightly to touch the necklace... “And you belong to me… you’re mine.”

His words were like a spell as he spoke huskily. And with his cock deeply buried inside you, thrusting hard and deep, you couldn’t help but surrender to him once more.

“I’m yours…”

And as if those were the magic words, William pounded vigorously a few more times before allowing you to reach your final climax, your muscles tightening around him, causing him to release himself into you. He let out a deep grunt as he spilled his cum, painting your walls just as he had your face. Then, gently releasing his hold on you, he guided you back to support yourself on the mattress.

Your head hung low as you gasped for air, your mind still fuzzy as you slowly opened your eyes. Then you heard William chuckle darkly behind you as he slowly withdrew his cock and spread your cheeks apart.

“Mmm… show me how good of a cum slut you are…”

He watched your pussy intently, relishing the sight of his dripping cum from your core. Then, delicately, he used a finger to glide through your sensitive folds, eliciting another light gasp from you. He then picked up some of his fluids and traced it up your cheeks, over your butthole, and to your lower back.

The air hung heavy as you both needed to calm down and return to reality. And when William had finished playing with his cum and marking you as his own, he broke the comfortable silence.

“Come on, baby, I think you need a shower.”

It was an unspoken way of returning to the romantic relationship that had developed between you, away from the dom/sub role play. William's attentive and mature nature made him a wonderful and caring person, ensuring you didn't actually feel like a slut, despite the names he used during your most intense moments.

And as he held you close under the water, you felt nothing but comfort and solace in his embrace. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder something.

“So… the necklace, Willy,” you smoothly turned in his arms and gazed up at him. “Does that mean… we’re exclusive?”

Your voice almost trembled as you asked. You didn’t want to seem needy or anything of the sort, but you needed confirmation. And William simply smiled as he locked eyes with you, his thumb tracing over your lower lip as he considered how to articulate his response.

And with a gentle nod, he conveyed his thoughts. “Yes, baby… we’re exclusive.

#thirst night #18+#prof!willy #wn88 imagine #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine

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bruhhhh-huhhhhh · 6 months

Note

if you could by chance, feed my obsession with some graves fluff, anything you want just something fluffy.

my obsession is out of hand, thank youu. <3

Anything for you boo thing <3

Coming Home

It had been a long few months for the both of you. You'd both be sent on missions by Shepard, a man you hated ever so dearly.

The worst part?

You weren't sent on them together.

You both didn't see each other, and when you did you had to act like you didn't know each other. It was nothing short of torture.

But you pushed through. The mission was simple enough. Get info and deliver it safely. It only took four months of sleeping alone in a safe house far too big for just yourself.

When you got home, you wanted nothing more than to see your boyfriend. But the house was eerily silent when you opened the door, and you knew that you had gotten home before he did.

So, ever so carefully, you sat your bag down in your shared bedroom and walked back out to the living room. You plopped down onto the couch, and started mindlessly scrolling through your phone that you had only just gotten back a few hours ago.

It took Phillip two hours to get out of the base and back to your shared home. The whole time he was nervously itching at his pocket, making sure his gift for you was still there.

When he finally got home, the sight of you on the couch made his heart leap into his throat. He missed you so much.

Graves sprinted to the couch, diving onto you and pulling you into the longest hug ever.

"Fucking hell, Phil," you complained, smooshed into his chest.

He just shushed you and placed a kiss onto your forehead. "I missed you," he confessed.

"I missed you too, but you don't see me jumping over the couch onto you."

"I didn't jump over the couch! I jumped from the side of the couch and... oh." It took him a minute to realize that he had, in fact, jumped over the couch. "Oops."

You just sighed and kissed him.

He, regretfully, pulled away and stood up. You went to follow suit, but he just pushed you back down. "No, no. I have something to give you," he explained.

You were curious as to what it was, but he was adamant on getting dinner and then giving it to you. Phillip ordered from your favorite restaurant and had it delivered to the house.

While the two of you waited, you cuddled on the couch and told each other everything that had happened while you were away. Graves got up and got the food from the driver, insisting that you stay sitting, and brought it over to the couch.

He placed the boxes on the coffee table and the two of you kept talking while you ate. Four months is a lot of time to be gone, after all.

When he was sure that you both were done eating, he cleaned everything. When you complained that you wanted to do something, Phil just shook his head and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "You deserve to be treated tonight. I don't want you lifting a finger."

With an eye roll, you let him keep doing whatever he wanted.

When Phil came back, he looked a little more nervous than before. Carefully, ever so carefully, he pulled something out of his pocket and got down on one knee.

"Y/n, I've loved you for a long time. I've known that I wanted to marry you for just as long. I planned on waiting just a little longer for the right moment, but after that mission we just had I couldn't. It was paining me not to have you with me at night. To not hear your laugh, your sarcastic comments. To not see the way you smiled when I told you I loved you or to see you roll your eyes at my jokes. I want you to be my husband so that I can argue when Shepard tries to seperate us. Will you marry me?" Graves asked, his eyes hopeful.

You couldn't help the smile that split your face, and you jumped off the couch and into his arms. "Obviously yes! God, I've been waiting forever for this!"

Phillip smiled and kissed you, tears springing to his eyes.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute before he pulled away and slipped the ring on your finger. It was beautiful, made with all your favorite colors and gems.

Graves picked you up and took you to your shared bedroom and laid you down in bed before getting in himself. He held you close to him, not wanting to let go.

He never wanted to let go if he could help it.

#cod modern warfare #cod graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod mw2 x you #phillip graves x male reader #bean writes #junkerqueen simp supreme

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mavrintarou · 1 year

Text

Christmas Morning - Suna Rintarou [end]

This wasn't supposed to go this far lol

Warning: fluff; explicit smut (18+); surprise ending (is it really a surprise though)

Fourth part

“Goodness,” Wendy narrowed her eyes, staring at you for a solid thirty-seconds in silence, “you’re illuminating. Are you pregnant?”

Every time you meet up with Wendy for brunch, she’s always making embarrassing comments to you.

And what is even more embarrassing is that she is always on spot.

Though you are not pregnant, you definitely had a pregnancy scare.

You were more than a week late and you were never late.

“I’m not pregnant,” you answered with confidence.

You had taken four pregnancy tests and all came back negative but you period never arrived.

You were about to express your concerns with Rin but he confronted you first.

You stayed an hour later at work and Rin was at your place making dinner.

After a long day, you were ready to spend the rest of your evening with your boyfriend.

Boyfriend…

You had a stupid smile plastered on your face every time you thought of him as your boyfriend. Rin was adamant that you officially accept his request asking you to be his girlfriend, in which you said yes and that made him your boyfriend now.

“Rin?” you found him sitting at the kitchen table with his back facing you. “What are you –“ you look over his shoulder and whatever you were going to ask went dead on your tongue.

In front of him was the four pregnancy test in a clear bag.

He looks at you with a pale face. “Is… are these yours?”

You exchange looks from the pregnancy test to him. “Uh… yeah…”

“Were you going to tell me?”

You frown at him, “tell you what?”

“That you’re pregnant?”

“But… I’m not pregnant, Rin?”

It was his turn to frown at you, “you’re not? Then why are you taking these tests?”

“I took them to see if I am but they’re negative, see.” You pointed to the single line. “One line means negative.”

Rin covered his face with both palms and groan. “I didn’t even look at that…”

You laugh, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry if I scared you – you weren’t supposed to find…”

“I was nervous… and excited.” He mumbled; his hands shifted only to uncover his eyes. “I saw them in the trash bin and all I could think about is that you’re pregnant.”

“I missed my period for a week now, so I took these test but they’re negative.” You sigh, “but I still haven’t gotten my period either so…”

“So…” he repeated after you.

“So, until Aunt-Flo arrives… I don’t know.”

That night after Rin makes love to you, your period arrives.

“Oh gosh, Rin is so cute… at least you know he was excited if you were pregnant.” Wendy laughed, she has been laughing since you explained how Rin thought you were pregnant cause he didn’t know how to read a pregnancy test.

“I was scared,” you whispered, “we keep having risky sex like that… since then I’ve made him wear a condom.”

“Why not just go on birth control?” Wendy inquired.

You sink back into your chair, “I brought it up but Rin said he didn’t want hormones and all the other junk to go into my system. It’s not good for my body.”

Wendy clutch her hand over her heart, “what a gentleman. He’s thinking about your body… argh… if you don’t want him, send him my way.”

You kept it to yourself, but you almost blurted how he was supposed to choose her that night. If Wendy had not backed out and asked you to take her spot that day… Wendy would have been you this moment.

“Thank you.”

Wendy blinks at you, “for what?”

“Had it not been for you to ask me to take your spot, I would have never met Rin and be where I am right now.”

“It was meant to be, so don’t lose him.”

You haven’t heard from Rin in a few hours. He was overseas in Taiwan for a game and was due to return tonight. What time? He didn’t tell you.

It was close to midnight, and you were beginning to fall asleep. Turning your body, you leaned into the couch and closed your eyes, clutching your phone.

You slipped into slumber waiting for his message or call.

“Y/n.”

You hear yourself hum.

“Y/n, why aren’t you sleeping in your room?”

One eye cracked open to see your favorite person beside you. “Rin?” You rubbed your eyes, sitting up. “you’re home?” When your vision was cleared you stare at him confused as he continued to gaze at you. You cup his face, “are you okay?”

He nodded, “you said, you’re home.” He smiled and his hand cupped your face, “yes, I’m home.”

You pull him into a hug, “I don’t know why this time, I missed you so much.”

Rin pulls you tighter against him. “I missed you more.” He suddenly pulls away, “I have something for you.” He shifts away and grabs something before holding it to you, “for you.”

“What is this?” You glance at the bag with colorful tissue paper. “It’s not my birthday?”

“Correct, but it was White Day… well a few days ago but I wasn’t in town, so it doesn’t count… now open it.”

You pull out the tissue paper and your lips curve upward. “Chocolate…”

“Returning the favor, although you ate my chocolate… and I forgive you but I’m returning the favor…” He fiddled around before sighing.

You sensed the sudden mood change and set the chocolate back in the bag to tilt his chin, looking him in the eye. “What’s wrong?”

He only gazes at you for a few seconds before swallowing, “I know… I might be rushing it but I – I really, really, really feel like you are the one for me.” He looks deep into your eyes, as if he’s trying to read your mind. “I – I have something for you.” He reaches behind and pulls out a velvet box.

You hear your sharp inhale.

He cracks open revealing two rings. “I never thought I’d get couple’s rings but… here I am…” He paused, “will you accept and wear this couple’s ring with me, Y/n?”

You lifted your left hand and with a clear voice, “of course.”

Rin chuckles and shakes his head, grabbing my right hand, “this hand, well… I want to save the left hand for when I marry you so we’re going to wear this on our right side for now.”

He slips the ring on and you grab the other ring to slip it on him. You hold his much larger hand for a second before looking up at him. “I love you, Rintarou.”

His green eyes widen, “say – “ he choked, “say that again?”

Dropping his hand, you cup his face and kiss him. “I love you, Suna Rintarou. I love you.”

“EJP! EJP! EJP!”

The gymnasium screamed loudly for their home team as Suna – EJP’s Middle Blocker shut down their opponent and helped his team win the game.

This was your first game of his that you attended and tears pricked your eyes as you refrained yourself from screaming like a madwoman when your boyfriend earned the winning point.

Rin points in your direction and you point right back at him, mouthing I love you.

He mouths, me too and winks.

He is going to be the death of you.

Rintarou has become the best thing that has ever happened to you.

There was never a dull day with him.

Your relationship progress every day and your love for one another grew daily.

You guys were like every normal couple that have their good and bad days.

Usually both times resulted in hot passionate sex.

Especially after a disagreement.

Rin’s grip on your waist is bruising as he pounded into you from behind. The dress you wanted to wear to one of his teammate’s wedding was now wrinkled and bunched up at your waist with your thong – torn and looped around one ankle.

Five minutes ago, you guys should have been out the door.

As soon as Rin saw your dress, the dress, he did not approve of you wearing – he had you bent over his bathroom counter and took you from behind. He is still dressed in his suit with only his pants undone.

“You just want to be a bad girl because you know what I would do when you start acting like a bad girl, huh?”

Not entirely true, for the most part Rin allowed you to do what you wanted, and it was only when your really pushed his buttons to see how far he let you get away with your action that he would have to set your attitude and action straight again.

But you wanted to wear that dress, sure it was a little more revealing than what you’re used to, or what he was used to, but you were going to wear it anyways because he can’t tell you what you can and can’t wear.

An arm looped around your chest, pulling you against him. Your back arched as he slows down his thrusts but they are deep and slow, driving you crazy.

He combs your now messy updo hair behind your ear before nipping it with his pearly teeth. He makes eye contact with you through the mirror, “are you going to be a good girl and let me cum inside of you?”

He knows you would never say no.

You loved it when he came inside of you.

Probably more than him.

“Will you let me wear this dress in exchange?” You hear his scoff. “Then no… you can’t cum inside of me.”

“You play dirty, love.” He growled, you feel his cock throb inside of you, ready to cum. “Fine… and that dress will go in the garbage after tonight.” His hips fasten, your moan echoing loudly in his large bathroom.

You grip the counters again as Rin reaches to find your swollen clit, rubbing it. His teeth grazing the skin over your nape. “Rin,” you moaned, reaching behind to thread your fingers through his hair, you’re going to have to redo his hair after this. “… I’m so close… so close – cum… cum inside of me…”

Your body trembles in bliss, walls squeezing him and bringing him over the edge. His hot cum spurts inside of you but he doesn’t stop his thrusting.

You gasped, trying to push his hand away from your clit. “Too – too much…”

He hummed but doesn’t stop, slowly rubbing it and riding your orgasm as far as he can take you. His hips stops and so does his hand as he releases your poor over stimulated clit.

“Are we late to the wedding?” he asked after a few minutes of recovery.

Yes.

You both arrived to the wedding late. Unfortunately, you couldn’t wear the dress anymore because it was so wrinkled and had to redo your hair as well as Rin’s.

“Wipe that smug off your face,” you mumbled, slapping his hand away from your hips. He would only place his hand there again, rubbing the satin material of the dress he had chosen.

Before he could say something, the MC announced for all the women to step on to the dance floor because it was time for the bride to toss the bouquet.

You weren’t going to go up but Komori Motoya’s girlfriend grabbed your hand, tugging you along with her to the dance floor.

You stood in the back and at a distance, away from all the other excited women who was ready to catch the bouquet.

“One… two… THREE!” shouted the bride as she blindly tossed her bouquet over her shoulder.

You watched it fly in a nice arch and all the women in front of you shoving and shifting to snatch it…

The smile on your face faded as your eyes narrowed, realizing… it was coming… in your direction. “Uh…”

You began to panic, none of the women was coming for it, as if they are frozen in their spot. All their head and eyes are on you, waiting for your next move.

You wanted to run for it, but your heels was rooted to the floor as well.

“Catch it Y/n!” Motoya’s girlfriend shouted excitedly.

At the last second, you reached for it, catching it before it could hit the floor.

The room roared loudly, clapping, and cheering.

Rin held your hand as you two left the venue after saying goodnight to your friends.

The bouquet was in your other hand, dangling upside down. You tried pawn it off, but they all refused.

Even the flower girl who was eyeing it didn’t want it.

“You’re quiet.” He looks down at you as you guys waited for his car.

You glanced up at him, “you’re quiet.” You said back, after you made it back to the table with the bouquet, Rin kept his hands off of you and only chatted with his teammates.

“I am?”

“Yes, you haven’t said a word to me since I un-fatedly caught this thing,” you waved the bouquet. “If you feel nervous or anxious because I caught it – don’t worry and don’t listen to what anyone has to say –“

He pulls his hand away and steps in front of you, cupping your face and forcing you to look up at him. “Y/n, I am not nervous or anxious at all.”

His green eyes is telling you the truth when you searched them. “But you didn’t touch me…”

“I had to keep my hands off of you or else…” he didn’t need to finish for you to know what he meant. “You catching this tonight has made my heart accelerated but for good reason…” He knocks his forehead with yours. “You know what they say when someone catches the bride’s bouquet, right?”

You nodded.

“Good,” he smiled and pecked your lips.

“Suna-san, your car is here.”

Present day [from the first part of this series]

Wrapping papers scattered around Rin’s apartment.

From designer bags, designer shoes to limited edition books you have always wanted…

Rin has spoiled you once again.

You begin to clean up the room when you hear him clear his throat.

Turning around, your eyes widen, and your breath stilled…

“What… are you… doing?” you breathed.

Rin is kneeled in front of you with another velvet box in his hands, very carefully, he opened it to a single diamond ring.

“Y/n,” his voice croaked and he swallowed, “you are the love of my life. I cannot go a day and night without you. You bring out the best in me and you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears have already rolled down your cheeks as you nod your head, “yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

He hops onto his feet and pulls you into a crushing hug before stepping back to take the ring out and slip it on your left hand. He brings your hand to his lips, “you’ve just made me the happiest man.”

“You need to open your gifts,” you pull away from him. You shove the smaller gift in his hands, “open this one first.”

Rin leans down to kiss you, “I don’t need anything else now that I have you.”

“Hmm, don’t be so quick to say that…” you mumble with a smile, pulling away. “Open.”

He pulls the ribbon and rips the wrapping paper off. He pulls out the card, reading it out loud.

Rin,

I tell you all the time how much you mean to me, but it seems to never be enough.

You are the greatest thing that has happened in my life, and I would never trade you.

Even for the first edition series of Lord of the Rings.

Every day is a blessing, even the days I want to whack a frying pan over your head.

But I love you.

Well.

We love you, daddy.

Y/n

You can see Rin re-reading the last part there.

His head snaps up and he digs further into the box.

He blinks and his face softens as he pulls out a bag of four pregnancy tests.

Four positive pregnancy tests.

“Are you…” he drops the stuff on the couch and pulls you into a hug before pulling away, “sorry, not too tight.” He mumbled before dropping down on his knees and stares at your belly. He lifts your shirt and places a kiss right above your belly button.

You grab the second gift that was in a bag. “This one too…”

Pulling out the tissue papers he reached inside and pulls out an identical miniature outfit that matches his volleyball uniform.

Clipped to the uniform were the ultrasound photos.

Rin covered his mouth with one hand, choking back a cry. His eyes filled with tears.

“Hi daddy, I can’t wait to meet you.” He reads the note you wrote on the first photo.

You reach to wipe his tears away. “Merry Christmas, Rintarou.”

He pulls you into his arms as you both fall onto his living room floor. “This is the best Christmas.”

You hold your left hand up to admire your ring, “indeed…”

Rin shifts around and hovers over you, he pushed your shirt up.

You just hit your twenty-week mark and was beginning to show.

“I’m twenty weeks pregnant.”

“How did I not… notice?”

You laughed, “because you were always so horny.”

Rin didn’t find it funny. “Did I hurt you when I was being too rough?”

You cup his face, “no love, you didn’t hurt me.” You rubbed his cheekbones, “but we probably should cut back on the roughness until I give birth.”

In a blink of an eye, you are maneuvered and straddling Rin. “Okay, you top so that way you are the one in control.”

You can feel his hard bulge through your cotton panties. “Rin!”

“You called it, I’m always horny. I’m even hornier now knowing you’re pregnant. How fucken sexy is that.” He pulls off your shirt in one swift movement and palms your breasts. “Will these get bigger?”

You moan, “yes…”

He pinches your nipples, “and full of milk?”

“… yes…”

Rin groans, pushing up against your core. “I need you.” He quickly pushes his boxers off and tugs your panties aside so you can sink down on him. “No wonder you feel… tighter…”

“They say sex can be sensitive during pregnancy.” You noticed how you orgasm faster than usual.

You rock your hips, pressing both palms on his chest for support.

“Not – “ he winces, “not too deep… or too fast, I don’t want to hurt baby…” One hand rest on your hip, trying to slow your movement.

You grab both his wrists and pinned them to the floor, “you said I get to be in control? So, let me do it.”

His eyes widen before they sparkle, “yes… mommy…”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re deep inside of me.”

He smirked, “you don’t like it?”

“It’s weird…” you rolled your hips faster, circling your hips. “We should enjoy this time to ourselves before they arrive.”

“Yes mommy.”

“I will leave you high and dry if you call me mommy one more time, daddy.” You gasped loudly the next second as you feel Rin groan as he cums deep inside of you. “Rin!”

He lifts his hips off the ground and thrusts inside of you in shallow hits. “Fuck, call me daddy again…”

You lean down to his ear and whisper, “daddy Rin…”

“Where is mama?”

You abandon your cart of books and ran down the aisle to see your husband with the baby carrier and inside is your five-month-old daughter, Rise.

“We brought you lunch!”

. . .

E/n: Thank you for hanging onto this bandwagon.

@hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @hannas16

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu suna rintarou #haikyuu suna #suna x reader #suna fluff #suna smut #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou smut #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna rintaro smut #hq suna #hq smut

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itsnotgray · 1 month

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Matching | A One Soul Three Hearts Fic

I think growing up Mrs.Fantilli would’ve dressed Adam and Gianna in matching/correlating clothes.

Until eventually a young, 6 year old Adam was so frustrated with matching/being coordinated with his sister, that he threw a fit.

Except Gianna was so upset that Adam didn’t want to match with her. She’s so silent the whole day after his fit, and sneaks her way into their parents bed that night.

Julia wakes up, confused at the feeling of small feet stepping on her leg. “Gi what’re you doing in here? Are you okay?”

Giuliano stirs next to her, but he stays silent, hoping it’s a one parent problem that can be solved quickly, having seen that the clock read 2:16am, and knowing he had work in about 6 hours.

Gianna flops her body in between her parents, curling her body into her mom’s. “Ad- Ad doesn’t love me no more,” she sniffles into Julia’s pajamas, her body being wracked with small sobs.

“What do you mean baby? Of course Adam loves you. And Luca, and me, and Daddy, we all love you.”

“Not Adam,” she insists sadly, shaking her head in rebuttal.

“What made you think that Gi?” Giuliano questioned tiredly, rolling over to join the conversation happening between mother and daughter.

Gianna untucks her head from Julia’s neck, turning to face her dad with a pout on her face, tears making their way down her cheeks. “He no want to match with me,” she puffs out, before throwing herself into Giuliano’s arms, her small arms latching themselves around his neck as she cried into the crook of his neck.

The parents glanced at each other, unsure of how to handle the situation. Giuliano brought a hand up to her hair, running his fingers through the strands that matched her mother’s. He nodded towards the clock, sleep evident in features. After the silent conversation, they came to the agreement to let the girl stay with them for the night, and the debacle was something they’d solve tomorrow.

Julia reached over, rubbing her hand up and down Gianna’s back softly, “How about you sleep with me and Daddy tonight, and then me, you, Adam, and Daddy can talk tomorrow after he gets done working? Is that okay?”

Gianna turned her head in acknowledgment, nodding her head tiredly while making eye contact with her mom.

Giuliano slowly unlatched the small girl from his body, moving her to the middle of the bed, both for comfort, as well as making sure he didn’t disturb her in the morning when he had to get up for work.

Minutes after being moved, the young girl was fast asleep, a hand clutched at Julia’s pajama shirt. Giuliano and Julia soon followed, joining their daughter in the land of dreams.

Around an hour later, another pair of small footsteps “quietly” make their way into their parents room.

It’s 7 year old Luca Fantilli, who had woken up from a bad dream, a dream where the only thing he remembered is that his little sister went missing. And when he woke up, it’s as if his dreams had come to fruition, his sister’s bed barren of the girl he was searching for. The sight of her empty bed had sent him into a hysterical fit.

“Mom,” Luca’s shaky voice echoed out into the night as he carefully shook his mother, eyes clouded with tears.

The sight of another one of her children woke Julia instantly. “What’s up Lu,” she questioned, voice riddled with sleep.

“I can’t find Gigi,” his young voice shook as he uttered the words, his concern for his sister evident. The mom couldn’t help but laugh a little, the sound making a pout appear on the boys face. “I’m serious,” he said, throwing out the word he learned a few weeks ago, stumbling over the syllables as his words became more frantic. “She’s gone!” He exclaimed, tears slowly making their way down his face.

“She’s right here baby,” Julia quietly spoke, carefully drawing back the covers to reveal the girl, still sleeping soundly, now sprawled on her back in the middle of the bed. “She was upset and came in here with us. Now why were you looking for Gi?” She asked, careful with her words, hoping not to upset the boy any further.

“Had a bad dream,” he stuttered out, a scared look making its way back across his face at the sheer mention of the images that plagued his slumbering conscience.

The woman sighed, glancing at the bed, and the little space left between the two adults, before glancing back to her son. “I don’t think Dad while mind if you crawl in here for the night,” she offered to the boy, scooting over to the edge of the bed in preparation of a yes.

A small grin made its way onto his face, not even bothering to respond as he rose up to his tiptoes, launching himself into the bed, crawling into the space beside his sister.

Julia pulled the blankets back up, throwing out a, “Comfortable?” To which she received a hum in response, the boy drifting off to sleep near instantaneously, Julia following close behind.

By the time Giuliano woke up for work, all he knew was that he was uncomfortable. There was a foot against his ribcage, and an elbow in his sternum… and a hand on his calf?

He glanced down, only to see Adam, almost curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, in the place he knew to be the spot his children took refuge in when they were too scared to try and wake up the slumbering adults. Then he glanced to his right, only to see an extra head than what he remembered, realizing Luca had also made his way into their room sometime that night.

And for a moment he paused, soaking in the silence, as well as the comfort of his little family, and revealed in the nostalgia of having all three kids back in their bed for a night, remembering when they used to do the same thing a little over 3 years ago, a time period that felt a lifetime away with just how fast they had grown in the timespan.

But alas reality came, and he carefully crawled out bed, getting ready for the work day ahead, already nervous for the “talk” him and his wife were to have with their twins, who had clearly hurt each other’s feelings in some way, hoping the conflict wasn’t unresolvable.

#one soul three hearts #luca fantilli imagine #adam fantilli imagine #luca fantilli #adam fantilli #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #osth #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey oneshot

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katyaromanoffpetrova · 2 months

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A lifetime of dates (part 1)

After being together for twenty years, Natasha and Katya have been on many dates in their lifetime. In this series, we see one from every part of their lives.

- Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC (Katya Petrova from the Forgotten Ghost series) - Wordcount: 1.2k - Warnings: bit angsty, but with a happy ending - This series will have multiple parts (6 or more) to celebrate my book Forgotten Ghost reaching 2 Million reads on Wattpad! We're kicking off with the Black Widow movie era (post Accords/Civil War) so this series will be out of order. Masterlist

A/N: thank you @nataliasquote for this idea! Couldn't imagine a more perfect way to celebrate 2 mil.

2016

''I can go without fries, you know?'' Katya said as Natasha turned onto the McDonald's parking lot.

It was dark, the only time they stepped outside their safehouse—or car, if that's all they had at that moment—if they could help it, but tonight, Natasha decided a date night was long overdue. Since they went on the run, months ago, there'd been none. There'd barely been any kisses or hugs either, let alone sex. They'd both been too depressed to do so.

But ever since they snuck onto a flight from rainy London to sunny Rome and started driving north in a stolen car, Natasha seemed a bit happier. Maybe it was the sea, or the sun giving her much-needed vitamin D, but when she saw the poster in the local supermarket advertising a drive-in cinema, she was adamant on going.

The movie wasn't important. The fact that it was in Italian even less—they both spoke it fluently. What was important was that for those two hours, their lives would be about something else than surviving the day. They'd at least try.

''It'll be quick, there's barely a line,'' Natasha insisted, already pulling up behind the last car in the short drive-through line. She reached up to ensure her hood was on and covered her face as much as possible, nervous now that they were no longer moving fast. Her eyes shot in every direction, checking all mirrors repeatedly.

''You're risking a lot for date night,'' Katya teased half-heartedly, wondering where this sudden motivation came from. She feared one of Natasha's fears had taken the overhand, especially the one that revolved around losing her.

''You said you missed french fries.''

That was both sweet and sad. Grasping at straws, that's what it felt like. Desperately doing anything to try and make the other happy, even momentarily. But french fries weren't going to fix anything.

Katya kept her concerns to herself, though. Nowadays, Natasha didn't want to be confronted with anything.

The guy operating the ordering system would never know Natasha wasn't a native Italian if there wasn't a camera. Her speech was fluent and without accent, and the girl at the pick-up window didn't look at their faces twice. Before they knew it, they were on their way again with an amazing-smelling bag on Katya's lap.

Finding the drive-in cinema was a bit of a hassle. Since they solely survived on burner phones and tossed their last one in a bin back in London, they couldn't pull up a GPS. But they found the location, bought their tickets the same way as buying food at McDonald's—through the car window, with stolen cash—and found a parking spot at the back of the field.

It was too dark for any of the surrounding cars to see who sat in this one. It was perfect.

Katya reclined her seat and unpacked the brown paper bag on her lap, handing over Natasha's portion of fries and a milkshake. The redhead was less eager to relax, but tried to, flicking her eyes away from the surroundings and to her freshly fiancée-turned-wife. It was the smell of the food that reminded her exactly of how hungry she was.

''Thanks,'' she said, in the same monotone voice she'd used for months. Katya just smiled back.

The movie started shortly after. The days had been a blur lately, but within seconds, Katya was reminded that it was the week of Halloween when she recognized the first scenes of the movie, Friday The 13th. No movie would ever scare her. Straight-faced, she watched the scariest of them. They could never relate to the horrors she had seen in real life. That's probably part of the reason she couldn't focus on this one.

The silence between her and Natasha felt weird, like it had for a while now. Their silences never used to be weird. In fact, most of their time spent around each other happened in silence. But so many unspoken things, so much sadness, hung around their heads like a raincloud. The rain never fell, but the cloud went wherever they went, pressing, looming overhead.

No matter how many times she said that the past no longer mattered, Katya knew Natasha still beat herself up over everything that happened. Choosing the 'wrong' side in the fight around the Accords, therefore not being there to prevent Katya from being brainwashed again. Putting their relationship in jeopardy in the first place. The big, ugly scar on Katya's shin that reminded Natasha of the literal hurt she caused.

''Natalia?'' Katya muttered, glancing at her face. It was so dark she could barely see it, the screen too far away to provide any light.

''Hm?'' Natasha didn't look away from the screen, placing another fry in her mouth. Her movements were on edge, restless about being around so many people.

''You know I love you, right?'' Katya saw her jaw pause. Another thing they didn't do often anymore; say they loved each other. It was worrying how quickly usual things became unusual. ''Things are shit, but it's you and me, always. And that's enough for me.''

Natasha swallowed thickly, because of emotions or not, and turned to face her. For the first time since everything went down, Katya was blessed with a look that she realized she'd taken for granted. That look that said, 'I love you more than anything in this world'. A less intense version of it, but it glimmered in her eyes in the dark.

''I know. I love you too,'' Natasha said softly. She tried a smile, barely reaching her eyes. But her words were sincere, and Katya's pathetic heart skipped a beat. ''Always.''

The air in the car lightened, the raincloud started to thin, and Katya smiled, placing her hand on Natasha's underarm. They were still them, incredibly in love, just disconnected from each other at the moment.

''Thank you for doing this for me,'' she whispered, as the people in the cars around them screamed at a jumpscare. Natasha tensed up again, but Katya knew the best way to return her focus to her. ''Can I ask for one more thing?'' She waited until her intrigued wife nodded. ''Kiss me?''

A genuine smile flashed across Natasha's face. She put her fries down, took Katya's face in her hands, and kissed her. It was nothing like the short pecks they shared lately. The press of her lips was tender, but the way they moved against Katya's felt desperate too. Desperate to tell her what her words couldn't. Desperate to keep her. It hurt in a good way.

They were both out of breath when she pulled back.

The raincloud had disappeared. Both their smiles came from a place of real joy. Katya missed the warmth on her cheeks when Natasha removed her hands and was quick to snatch one of them up, intertwining their fingers. Without a word, as synched as they both were, they burned back to the screen. But not without cuddling up to each other first.

Scooting closer to the middle console, Katya rested her head on Natasha's shoulder, feeling a squeeze of her hand down in her lap. She'd craved this, as touchstarved as she was. For an hour longer, they could fool themselves that all was right in the world. That they were just two lovesick newlyweds on a date.

Katya already knew, but this gave her more faith that they'd be alright. And who knew, maybe they'd be in Italy again some day, under better circumstances.

#katandnat #katyaromanoffpetrova #natasha romanoff #forgotten ghost series #natasha romanoff x fem!oc #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader

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toomuchracket · 6 months

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my whole life, waiting for you: part 2 (ross x girlband gf!reader fluff)

you know where this is headed, you don't need me to explain!! if you do... read this first. enjoy <3

it's almost funny how calm the green room is.

the atmosphere is a far cry from the manic, adrenaline and alcohol-fuelled hedonism that it was ten, fifteen years ago. adam is sat on the floor, facetiming his wife and son, chatting to the little boy about the murals the boys saw on their walk for coffee earlier. polly is beside him with her headphones on, watching something on her laptop, which rests on the coffee table. in the far corner, john, gabi, and jamie are battling it out on a mariokart race, and george - typical of him - is nowhere to be seen. he'd shouted to matty that he was just popping outside for something, but matty's curly head had been too engrossed in an essay collection to take in anything his friend had said.

ross is also reading, sat on the opposite end of the sofa from matty. well, he's trying to read, anyway - he can only focus on the words for a few seconds at a time, before they seem to start melting into illegibility on the page. it's not that it's a bad book, at all - in fact, he's actually really enjoying it - but it's making him think of you, and he's incapable of thinking about you without you completely taking over his mind. you recommended the novel, after all, and snuck your copy into ross's suitcase as a gift for tour with a "just so you don't forget to think of me".

as if he ever could.

the pages still smell like your perfume, a faint whisper of rose escaping into the air every time ross turns them. usually, he'd find it comforting, but today it's making the longing for you worse. he slams the book shut a bit harder than he means to, laying it down in favour of checking his texts from you - there's been nothing since your last message an hour ago, telling him you loved him and you'd speak to him soon.

matty looks up in mild concern as the book's covers meet. "shit story?"

"nah, just can't focus right now."

"fair enough," matty closes his own book and stretches, before curling up catlike with his head on the armrest of the couch. "how you feeling about tonight?"

crap. "alright," ross says, feeling anything but. "i'll feel better once we've soundchecked, i reckon. a bit more excited to go out there, y'know?"

"i'm the same," matty nods. "speaking of soundcheck, where the fuck is george?"

ross is about to shrug, when the man in question's famously impeccable timing kicks in; footsteps start to become audible through and towards the half-open door, george's unique laugh following it. following again is the smell of outside, freshly smoked cigarettes, and… your perfume? christ, ross really must be losing it.

and then you appear in the doorway.

your eyes dart round the room before locking onto ross's, and you beam at him. all the air leaves his lungs at once, and all thoughts except she's here leave his brain. in fact, all awareness of everything except your existence in the room totally abandons ross. he can't hear matty's cheerful cry of "HIYA!". he fails to register george and charli's presence in the doorway behind you. he doesn't even take notice of the sudden ground beneath his feet as he jumps up and runs to you.

he's completely running on autopilot, which is why he automatically crashes his lips onto yours when he reaches you. no hesitation, no worrying about revealing your relationship to everyone else in the room… just the need to show you how much he loves you, misses you, needs you.

you kiss him back just as eagerly, wrapping your arms as far around his broad shoulders as you can. your level of awareness is marginally higher than your boyfriend's, and the gasps and shocked laughter and shouts of "WHAT THE FUCK" make you smile into the kiss. well, partially - just the mere fact you're actually kissing ross is enough to make you beam in itself.

ross breaks away first, reluctantly, just so he can breathe. but he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, big hands cupping your jaw as he smiles centimetres away from your mouth. there's silence - from the two of you, at least - for a second, save your deep breaths, you and him doing nothing but clutching each other and revelling in the closeness.

"hi, baby," you lean back to look at ross, and he actually thinks his heart might give out. the softness seems to sparkle in your eyes, your lips are slightly swollen from how hard he'd kissed you, and he thinks you've never looked more beautiful.

without warning or indication, ross lifts you into a hug, your legs wrapping around his waist out of habit as you shriek out a laugh. "hi, my love," he says into your neck, spinning you around excitedly and relishing in the way you giggle joyously. "missed you. so fucking much."

"so i've heard. s'why i'm here, angel."

"who?... ah," ross turns, so he can see george. "you?"

"me," george nods, then winces as charli elbows him indignantly. "well, us. we did this."

adam pipes up from his spot on the floor. "and what is this, exactly? i mean, i think i know, but the wife wants details," he waves his phone in the air, and from your vantage point of head-on-ross's-shoulder you catch a glimpse of carly on the screen (well, her hair).

"me and her both, hann," matty looks like he's going into shock, lying flat on the sofa with his hands latched on either side of his head - if either you or ross had been capable of noticing anything other than each other, you would have seen the way his jaw dropped when you kissed, and how he'd slid into his current position with a hushed chorus of repeated "what the actual fuck"s. he looks up at you, wide-eyed. "is this… a real thing?"

you nod as best you can without chinning ross. "the real deal. true love, i'd say," you tap your boyfriend's back, and he turns so you can both look at matty; you gently turn ross's head so he can look at you first, though. "that's a safe assessment to make, right, my love?"

"and an accurate one," ross kisses your nose, then turns to his best friend. "yeah, mate, she and i are pretty much settled now."

"the plan was to tell everyone after tour finished," you chime in. "because neither of us wanted the relationship to take the focus away from your music, or mine…"

"...but i got too emo last night and blabbed to george about how much i missed her," ross smiles, cheeks taking on the slightest hint of pink. "and here we are."

there's a vague chorus of awwws from around the room, and through adam's phone, but matty still seems to be processing. "what about your bandmates? do they know?"

thankfully, there's no hint of accusation in his tone, only curiosity. you exhale a breath you didn't realise you were holding. "they only found out this morning, when i told them i couldn't come to the studio today because of a boyfriend emergency. and don't worry, matty," you say, as you see your friend begin to open his mouth. "the album's done. completely. the label overestimated how long i'd need to make it perfect. we were just going in for free tea and biscuits today, to be honest."

ross chuckles, squeezing you even tighter to him, while the room erupts into laughter behind you. matty rolls his eyes, but smiles. "you're so chill it's unbelievable. christ, the two of you are perfect for each other. i can't believe i never realised that."

"matty, shouldn't they start an onlyfans?" charli shouts, around you. adam collapses into giggles, phone nearly falling from his hand - luckily, polly (also laughing) catches it before it hits the ground.

ross winces. "are you still going on about that?"

matty follows suit. "for fuck's sake, charli. no! christ," he shudders, while charli sighs in despair. "you do look hot together, though. really hot. any kids you have would be- oh my god, you need to have kids. please? just one? imagine how musical they'd be!"

charli cackles, grabbing your arm. "babe! didn't i say he'd say tha-"

"right, i think we should all shut up now, and get on with the day, yeah?" george says, deep voice taking on an authoritative tone that ross is secretly thankful for. "soundcheck, let's go."

your boyfriend pecks your lips and puts you back on the ground, as everyone begins to wrap up their activities and head to stage. before a mass exodus from the green room begins, matty puts a hand on your arm and speaks. "i've just got one more thing to say."

"did you just quote your own song?"

"shut up, i didn't mean it," he blushes, while ross snorts. "wanted to ask you something about the show tonight."

"right."

"would you come on and sing with us? you can say no, obvs, but you know how much i love your voice. i'd be really honoured if you agreed."

your friend's quiet earnestness is touching. although it's an unexpected request - you know the boys haven't been involving guests on this tour like they did previously - it's not an unwelcome one. and judging by the way ross hugs your waist tighter and smiles into your shoulder, you think he likes the sound of sharing a stage with you for the first time too. you grin at matty. "about you?"

matty nods. "polly's soloing jesus christ 2005 tonight anyway. prime opportunity for you to have a moment of your own."

"she's soloing- fuck, i'm going to cry," you bring a hand to your chest, and polly laughs and blows you a kiss. "alright. i'll do it."

the boys on either side of you hug you in excitement, and your heart glows. but you're not finished. "if…"

"yeah?"

you turn to your boyfriend. "if i can wear one of your scotland tops while i do."

matty laughs, while ross leans down to kiss you. "course you can, love," he murmurs against your lips. "i'd like that a lot, actually."

"so it's settled, then. i'll sing," you peck ross again, and drag him and matty towards the door. "let's go and practice now, so i don't show you all up."

***

as it turns out, if you angle yourself just so behind the house set onstage, you get a pretty good view of ross through the sheer curtain on the window. mic in hand and ready to go, you sway softly on your high heels as the outro to me begins, keeping to the side so you're not blocking matty's route down from the roof to the front door.

the song ends, and you tap your free hand on the opposite wrist in a sort-of clap as the audience applauds; you pair it with a smile towards your friend as he comes into view, and a laugh as he bows dramatically.

matty pulls you into a half-hug. "i'm excited. you feeling alright?"

"yeah, i'm good," you squeeze his (tiny, really tiny) waist. "actually, i meant to ask earlier… can we stand near ross for the outro?"

your friend smiles, the significance of the action not lost on him. "course we can," he looks up as the familiar music begins. "see you out there, bestie."

with a wink, he opens the door - leaving it ajar for you - and you're alone again. you do your usual pre-show routine, tugging at your skirt so it sits right and fixing your hair a final time, and just wait for the end of the first chorus. ducking under the window to keep your presence a surprise to the crowd as long as possible, you get into position, and step across the threshold onto the stage when matty and polly (doing the backing vocals at the start to throw everyone off the scent of your big reveal) sing the title of the song.

the roar from the crowd when you step out - and presumably, when your face and name appear on the screens - is so loud you can feel it through the stage, so loud that you can't help but grin at the sea of faces as you walk onstage. john playfully nudges you with his shoulder as you pass him, and you make a point of waving at the two g's on drums when you walk by, singing.

when you get to the internal door, though, you can't help but milk the moment a little; you take your time walking through, looking and smiling at the light in wonder, winking at jamie and polly giggling at you. matty's waiting to lead you down the stairs - not for the bit, but for practicality, given your heels - and you have a little group hug with him and adam when you reach the lower level. it's sweet. it's fun. it's comfortable, even though you're performing without your band for the first time in front of thousands of people, who may or may not like you, or even know who you are.

through it all, though, you can't stop yourself looking to stage left, to your smiling boyfriend, the love in his eyes evident even from where you're standing. during the second chorus, you walk to ross, tiptoeing to rest your head on his shoulder from behind him, exactly the same way you do while he makes dinner for the two of you in your flat. he seems to be thinking about that, too; almost on instinct, he turns to kiss your temple, a feather-light brush of lips and skin that nevertheless sends sparks shooting through your body.

the crowd puts two (that kiss) and two (your - his - top) together, and goes insane. they have the good grace to lower the screaming somewhat during your solo, which you sing centre-stage, matty's arm around your shoulders and yours on his, and then they dial it back up to eleven when you both wander back over to your boyfriend. you know you're looking at ross lovingly, dreamily, adoringly, but you can't hide it.

you don't want to, anyway. he's yours, you're his, and you don't give a fuck who knows or doesn't.

clearly, ross feels the same. after matty urges you to take a bow during the outro (and urges the audience to "please give it up for my honorary little sister"), then hugs you with a "thank you, darling" before running off to make it to the b-stage, your boyfriend rests his head on top of yours as he finishes playing. it's such a tender action, and for a brief second you forget you're onstage, not sat in your living room writing new stuff together and larking about on your instruments. but then the crowd starts up the applause again, and you remember. as ross hands his bass to joel, you take another bow, waving at the excited faces before ross takes your hand and leads you offstage.

his arms are wrapped around you before you've even fully opened your mouth to talk; you close it, and your eyes, and just breathe in the moment (and the home-y scent of ross's aftershave). ross speaks first, anyway, hand on the back of your head stroking your hair. "i am so proud of you."

"oh, stop it, i do it all the time," you laugh. "but i'm proud of you, too. i love watching you play. it was lovely to get the chance to see it up close."

"i love you," ross leans back so he can look at you as he says it, punctuating the end of his sentence with a soft kiss. "thank you. for coming up here, and for doing that. it was a lot of fun - i know we all thought so."

"i love you, too. so much. and these muppets you call bandmates - they're a pretty good bunch."

"they're irritating me now, though."

"why, baby?"

ross smiles, a very honest lifting of cheeks and curling of lips. "just haven't gotten you all to myself today, s'all. they've always been around."

it's not necessarily a suggestive statement, but there's an underlying hint of something in ross's words; you try to respond with an equally ambiguous statement. "well," you begin, thumb stroking your boyfriend's cheek. "all you need to do is finish the show, and then we can hide out in your hotel room, completely uninterrupted, for like twelve hours. sound good?"

"sounds amazing, love," ross sighs, kissing you again. "i really have missed you. don't really want to let you go and go back onstage, to be honest."

"i'll be right here cheering you on the whole time. screaming your name and everything."

"oh, i like the sound of that."

"cheeky."

#mads muses #mads does writing #girlband gf #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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pyramid-of-starrs · 8 months

Text

Stay with me

Pairing: Clingy Boyfriend San X Black/WOC Fem reader

Genre: Fluffy Smut (Tbh it got pretty filthy)

Warnings: Clingy behavior, whining, lowkey toxic behavior, possessiveness, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (be safe), anal play (tehe, I said it got filthy), creampie, saliva, Y/N is dick whipped real bad lol

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: This will absolutely be getting a part two since this is not the original plot of this story lol.

Pt 2

Chapter Song Rec

You stretched out while sitting at your desk in your room, shutting your work laptop and happily jumping up from your chair. It was finally the weekend, and you were so excited, you wanted to get out the house and do something, anything! A ding was heard from your phone, and you grabbed it off of the charger on the side of your desk to see your friend group chat going off

Erica: It's friday hoes what we doin today Katrina: idk but I'm down for whatever Erica: OMG let's go to that club down town! There was some fine ass men last time we went Meg: OOOUUU yes! The dude that just wanted to buy us drinks all night! Katrina: Now y'all know Y/N boo'd up ass ain't gone go if we lookin for dudes Meg: Is she even gone come? San be havin her locked up lmaoooo Meg: Y/N bitch wya??? Y/N:I'm here and I'm coming! Ain't nobody locked up lol Erica: I'll believe it when I see it bitch lol lets meet at my house at 10 to pregame then leave! And Y/N tell San to back the hell up off you!!!

You tossed your phone on your bed and sighed, they did have a point. Ever since you started dating San about 8 months ago your attendance for friend gatherings and outings has gotten less and less, it wasn't like you were doing it on purpose it's just that San was very adamant about spending lots of time with you. He always wanted to be with you when you two weren't working, he came over when he got off, spends the night or ask you to spend the night, takes you out all the time and even comes to pick you up just to take you back to his house that was 20 minutes away. Though you loved your time spent together you were used to having your space, this was your first time dating a clinger and you didn't mind but maybe it was time you told him you wanted to do something else with someone else for the day.

Just as you were finishing your thought your phone rang again. You sat down on your bed and picked it up, speak of the devil.

"Hello?"

"Babyyyy"

You can already hear his whiny tone, it was cute you had to admit it, a grown man acting cutesy would usually be cringy as hell but this grown man made it work somehow?

"Yes baby? What's wrong?"

"I want to see you can I come over?"

"I'm going out tonight with my friends San."

You could hear a long groan before he continued the conversation.

"But I really miss you, I haven't seen you in forever."

"You saw me yesterday..."

"A WHOLE 24 HOURS! I'm suffocating without my baby!!"

You laughed at his dramatics.

"Fine...you can come over but you have to leave when I leave and you're not allowed to try to convince me to stay with you."

"...okay..."

"Promise me San."

He smacked his lips and groaned again; he was obviously going to try to convince you to stay with him, but he had to be good...just this once.

"I promise."

"Okay, you can come over."

You went to take a shower while San was on his way, you stepped out and put on your robe, once you walked out the bathroom your phone rang, you went to answer it already knowing who it was.

"Hey baby, let yourself in I just got out the shower."

The call ended and a few moments later you can hear the front door opening and closing while you're in your room, footsteps can be heard as San approaches.

"I'm naked still hold on."

If anything, that gave him even more reason to come in, San immediately opens the door to see you in a black pair of panties and a black crop top, his smile dropped to a face of disappointment.

"You liar you said you were naked." He said in a pouty voice.

"Sorry to disappoint, pervert." You giggled at him and sat on your bed, you picked up the lotion that you put on your bed.

"Let me do it."

"San"

"Come ooon, I already can't spend the night with you at least let me rub you down for the night."

"Fine." you flipped the lotion bottle to face him, and he came to sit next to you, he grabbed your legs and put them across his lap, your body turning to face him. He squeezed the lotion on to his hands, rubbing his hands together he started to rub it onto your thighs.

"So, what are the plans for tonight?" He asked with a smile on his face, even though San was sad that you were going out tonight he really was happiest when he was with you, even doing small task like this made his heart flutter, he really loved you.

"My friends want me to go to this club we went to a while ago, we are going to pre-game first though, they said they miss me since I don't go out much because I'm always with you."

He finished one of your thighs and moved down to your calves, he lathered you up while massaging your legs.

"Well, I could always come with." He said smiling like a cute little cat.

"No sir, no boys allowed, you would mess up the flow. Plus, all my other friends are single so it would be awkward."

He frowned at you shooting him down.

"That's not fair Y/N, it's not my fault they are all single! What if I get my friends to date them? Then we could go on group dates."

"Right, your friends that would rather play video games then see the light of day?" You said with an arched eyebrow.

He finished rubbing your legs and you walked to your drawers to look for the rest of your outfit for the night. San continued to talk about how he wished he could spend the night together and that he wasn't "technically" trying to convince you to stay with him just "Strongly suggesting" in his words. You turned on a chill RnB playlist on YouTube as you continued to get ready to drown him out. You were finishing up your make up while you were sitting at your vanity, well technically San was the one sitting on the vanities bench, he insisted that you sit on his lap while he held your waist and sadly rocked you back and forth. You finally took off your bonnet and brushed out your brown and blonde highlight wig you just installed last week; San watched you in awe.

"You're so gorgeous my love." He smiled; you could feel the love radiating off of him.

"Thank you, San." You looked in the vanity mirror slightly hunched over since San elevated you, so you were sitting a bit pass the mirrors height.

His warm and wholesome smile turned to a sneaky one as he decided to try one more thing to make you stay home. He buried his face into your neck as he sat behind you.

"You sure you don't want to stay here with me?" He said, trying to pursue you.

"Very sure." You said as you started to put away your make-up.

You could fill his plush lips start to slowly pepper kisses down your neck. At first you were just going to ignore him but then a particular linger kiss had suction to it as he started to suck your neck, you learned your head back and sighed. His hands left your waist and slid up your shirt, he started to massage your breast gently.

"Come on San I have to go, you told me you weren't going to do this tonight..."

"I'm not doing anything baby, I'm just appreciating your beautiful body and face."

You turned your face to the side that he was kissing as his lips migrated up from your neck up to your face then finally reaching your lips. The kiss was obviously not a quick appreciation kiss, so much lust as you followed his lead, his hands still on your breast as he made his way under your bra. You felt his fingers started to tweak your nipples and you moaned into the kiss, your moan was used as opportunity for San to put his tongue into your mouth, you had to stop it now or you were never going to make it out. You started to pull back from him, and he allowed you to.

"Come on pretty girl stay with me so I can give you what you really want." He said in a low raspy voice, his one soft kitten like eyes turned to lustful demon orbs, he rocked his hips forward so you could feel his semi-hard dick against your butt, your mini skirt left you bare on his laps, only your panties could protect you. You could have just said no and gotten up and left but you chose to stay silent, giving San hope that you could change your mind still. He leaned in to talk in your ear knowing that that was where you were weakest at.

"What if you stayed with me instead while I fuck your pretty pussy until you couldn't walk anymore? Or I could let you ride my face while you cum all over me."

It was like the devil himself was talking you into betraying God and eating the apple off the tree. Turning down San is the hardest thing you could do but you planned for this, you knew you were weak for him, so you texted your friend 30 minutes ago tell them to come pick you up. You were originally going to have San drop you off but the last time you did that you did make it out the apartment but 15 minutes into the drive San pulled into a Dark parking lot to fuck you in his backseat saying it was just a quickie. You ended up getting fucked so good your lace was lifted and your make up was running down your face.

"My friend is already on the way San."

Just in time your phone dinged and you picked it up thinking it was going to be your friend saving you from danger.

Meg: Hey girl, Katrina ended up needing a ride too and that's on the other side of you and she has no one else to pick her up, Imma grab her, could you ask your dude to drop you off?

You read the text in your head and so did the incubus behind you, you dropped your head in defeat as an evil grin was on his face, even had a maniacal laugh could be heard.

"Looks like she isn't, but don't worry baby I'll take you."

"Thank y-"

"But it'll cost you." San has never made you give him gas money, he thought as a man he should never have to ask you for money, plus he was paid much more then you.

"How much do you want?"

"Now, now gorgeous, you know good and well your money is no good with me, but you know what is?"

"Oh fuck."

....

You don't know how much time had passed, to be honest San was making you feel so good you didn't even know if you knew your own name or not anymore. His face was buried deep in your sopping wet pussy as his tongue explored your brown and pink folds. Your thighs sat pretty against his broad shoulders while his fingers dug you out. Your voice was horse as he was steadily working on your third orgasm, your hands full of his black hair as you gripped it tightly, it stung but San loved it because it meant he was doing a good job. Tears started to form in your eyes as you could feel your climax approaching.

"San, I'm about to cum."

"Already? I'm not done licking up the last one, you're going to have to hold it until I'm done."

You whimpered as San continued to draw perfect 8's on your clit, His two fingers were pounding deeply inside of you as he did the "come here" motion. Your hips lifted on and off the bed, your mind was going blank.

"Please San, please let me cum"

"Almost done."

Your nails dug into his scalp, your thighs started to close around his head, his sharp eyes darted up at you, he loved watching you go crazy.

"You're so good for me, go ahead and cum my angel."

"Ooooh Fuck" was all you could say as you came undone all over his mouth and fingers. You were a sobbing mess as San slowly pulled his fingers from your leaky cunt. He sucked all your cum off of his fingers as he put your legs back on the bed and leaned back up.

"C-can we go now San, it's getting late." you said in a defeated voice as you leaned up on your elbows.

He looked at his apple watch then back at you.

"What's the rush princess? its only 9:56, you still have time, plus I already told you if you want me to take you, you have to let me make you cum 5 times, and we have 2 more times to go." He said as he got off the bed and stood at the end of it.

"San I was supposed to meet them at-" he wasn't listening anymore, he was done talking, his mind was only focused on you cumming again and again for him. San loved the way you felt around his dick, the tight wetness drove him crazy and don't get him wrong when you sucked his dick, he swore he could see the gates of heaven open, but nothing ever compared to how good he felt when he made you feel good. It was not only a sense of pride but he honestly just loved you so much that making you cum was all he needed to get off. When you first started seeing San you let him know that a man has never made you cum before and you made a bet with him that it was impossible to get you to cum. Boy did he prove you wrong, he made you squirt the first time he ever ate you out and it was history from that point onward.

He grabbed you by both your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the bed, he didn't stop there because then he flipped you onto your stomach, San was strong because he worked out a lot so any chance he got to manhandle you, he took it. He gripped the sides of your hips as he pulled your ass in the air to connect to his crotch while your face stayed down. He didn't bother taking off your mini tennis skirt when he started to eat you out earlier since it was so short. You were arched in front of him, your pussy was bare since he ripped your panties off earlier. He stepped back a bit and stood there watching it drip and clench around nothing.

"Don't just stare at it." you said as you started to get shy.

"Why not? It's so pretty all I want to do is look at it." He said while biting his bottom lip.

You wiggled your hips a bit. "San come on you know we have to go soon, you're doing this on purpose." you said in a whiny voice.

Your whine was interrupted by a moan as he slid in his two fingers abruptly.

"So what if I am, this is my pussy to do what I want to it." he started to move his fingers faster.

"I don't even like your friends a lot because they are always trying to steal you away from me, taking you to clubs so other guys get to see you and fawn over you. I'm not there so they don't know this pretty pussy belongs to me. All they see is your sexy face and body wearing your little make up and this short ass skirt."

Sans full on possessive behavior was out, Clingy and possessive could absolutely be seen as red flags to anyone else but with San, those red flags were heart shaped. You loved how much he only wanted you for himself, but damn was in inconveniencing sometimes. He thrust his fingers deep into you at a steady pace, the over stimulation was killing you.

He continued, "If a guy walks up to you tonight and ask you for your number are you going to tell him you belong to me?"

“Yes- fuck!”

“Yes what? What are you going to say baby.” He dug his digits deep into you.

“That I belong to you.”

“Who is you? That’s not my name.” he held his fingers in you waiting for your reply.

“I belong to San Ah~ and only San.”

“Good job lovely, go ahead and cum for me.”

That was exactly what you did, it was that easy for San to make you cum, just some words and gestures. San once again pulled his fingers from your abused cunt, he brought them around to your face for you to suck your cum off them. You but both the wet fingers into your mouth and sucked them clean while he pumped them in and out of your mouth.

“Are you ready for me my love?”

You nodded as he removed his fingers from your mouth.

“I want words baby.”

“Yes San, please fuck me.”

He once again flashed that devious smile before undoing his pants and pulling out his fully erect dick, he pulled you back a bit before pumping it a few times. He lined his tip up with your entrance and you immediately started to clench it, as he slowly pushed his hot length into your wet cunt, moving slowly so you could feel every single inch he was feeding you. Sans dick was just not fair, it had a good and comfortable amount of length and width, but the best part was that his dick had a perfect curve that made him reach a spot in your pussy that most couldn’t. He had a firm grasp on both your hips to make sure you couldn’t run away from him, you fidgeted and whimpered while he stretched you out. Once he finally got all of him inside of you he held it in just so he could bask in the feeling of your hot wet walls against his raw dick, he bit him lip, closed his eyes and just held his head up to the ceiling. You started to become restless, feeling him so deep inside while he wasn’t moving made you dizzy.

“Please San, please move I need more.”

San came back to earth when he hears you begging for more and locked back in.

“Yes baby what ever you want.”

He started to rock his hips into you, you folded your arms under you and put your forehead on your forearm as you let pretty moans fall from your lips. His pace gradually sped up, his hands pulling you back to make his pelvis and your ass meet.

“Are you going to stay here with me?”

“N-No!” You replied.

He rolled his eyes and started to dig deeper into you, moving his hips even faster as your moans started to get louder.

“I said are you going to stay here with me?”

“San please.” You said in a whimpering voice.

He started to slam into you, your eyes began to roll to the back of your head, you felt your orgasm approaching. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse San placed one of his hands on top of the beginning of your ass. His thumb started to rub your asshole, it was still wet from his spit and your slick when he ate you out. The sensation of him rubbing your second hole felt amazing then he slowly slid his thumb into your tight hole, you could feel him penetrating your asshole slowly while he was still drilling his dick into your drooling cunt. This is the the kinda fucking that makes people want to kill for their partners. You moaned so loud you knew you were going to get a notice complaint, he started to move his thumb in and out your ass.

“You’re such a nasty little bitch, letting my thumb fuck your ass while your pussy takes my dick. Are you this slutty for anyone else?”

“Only you Sannie, only you!” You yelled out, unable to control the volume of your voice anymore.

“That’s right baby, you’re my little slut right?”

“Yes~ I’m your slut.” Tears started to fall from your eyes, he was fucking you dumb with both your holes being stuffed, your pussy started to rapidly clench and unclench.

“Going to cum deep in this slutty pussy and make you walk around that club leaking my cum.”

He kept pounding his hips into and the mental thread in your mind snapped as you felt his hot seed deep in your womb, you couldn’t take it anymore and came around his still leaking dick. San slowly pulled out and backed up a bit, you immediately collapsed to the side of the bed as your eyes felt heavy.

San pulled up his boxer briefs and took his pants off while he smiled at how cute you looked when your were tuckered out. You laid on the bed breathing heavily and fighting the sleep since you were determined to make it out still, he walked to the bathroom to bring back a warm towel to clean you up, he wiped you clean then went to get a different towel, this one had micellar water on it. He sat at the head of the bed and opened his arms to invite you in to be held, you gladly accepted, he held you in one arm as you closed your eyes. He carefully removed your false lashes and placed them on the night stand, the started to wipe the make up you word so hard on off, your body was to tired to even fight it anymore. Your phone rang and San grabbed it and answered it before you could.

“Hello?”

“Hello? San? Where is Y/N?”

“She’s right here.”

“Well when are you bringing her over we waiting’ on her.”

“Oh, she said she’s to tired to go, you know, work and all that.”

The line got quiet for a second before your friend spoke again.

“Boy stop holding my friend hostage.”

San laughed before he hung up. Yeah you’re never going to see your friends again.

taglist:

@mingyuwus@sillyhappygirl@atiny-dime-p1ece@bloody-wine@angelsaway

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz smut #san smut #san x black reader #san x reader #choi san smut

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